“But being good is so boring,” I replied.
I pulled open the desk's right-hand drawer and found a dozen still-wrapped packages of index
cards. I yanked open the left-hand drawer and found more cards, only these ones were written on, in the same tidy, sexy handwriting.
The cards said things like:
Act I – Crime is more complicated than it first appeared. Secrets? Something dark in Dunham's past?
Chapter 3 – Subplot A is introduced. Love interest? Redhead? Young or old?
I wanted to keep reading the index cards, but my conscience and sense of propriety finally started doing their job, so I stuck everything back in the drawer, careful of the arrangement.
Cleaning went quickly that day, as my head was in the clouds the whole time, thinking about
detective novels and movies, and wondering what the initials DSW stood for. My cell phone didn't have internet browsing, but I planned to look on the shared computer at Carridee's house as soon as I got back, if I could drag all her kids away from their games.
After I finished cleaning the cabin, I stripped off my clothes and locked the door of the master bathroom so I could take a shower. I tied my hair up carefully, so that if the owner got home while I was in there, I'd say I was just cleaning the shower and must have locked the door out of habit when I was taking a bathroom break.
The shower had all these wonderful different spray attachments, and I was curious about the
removable wand. I changed the spray to pulse and held it so it sprayed directly onto my pussy. Since the party at Laura's house, I hadn't kept up the full Brazilian waxing, so my hair was coming in, but fine, and I enjoyed the innocent look of that area.
The soft, pulsing water reminded me of my sole experience with a boy, when I'd been licked to
climax by Lars. In the soft, summer rain.
I closed my eyes and remembered the merry-go-round gently turning, and the rain coming down,
feeling like it might steam off my hot skin. I climaxed surprisingly fast, gasping in pleasure. I kept the water trained in the same spot and was rewarded by a second and then a third orgasm, in rapid
succession.
“That was… interesting,” I said as I put the spray wand back in place.
Did everyone do that with removable spray wands in the shower? Did people know about this?
I did a quick mental checklist of showers. We certainly didn't have one of those at my house, or I would have tripled our water bill. There was no magic massaging wand at Carridee's house, but there were a few at the better cabins.
My knees were shaking when I stepped out of the shower, and I let out a nervous laugh to break my own tension. I couldn't use one of the cabin's towels, as I didn't want to be found out, so I squeezed the water off my body by hand, and finished drying myself off with some clean rags from my
housekeeper's kit.
After I got dressed again, I went downstairs and ate all the cookies.
I was already out the door of the cabin when I had an idea, so I ran back in and wrote on the note DSW had left me:
Thank you for the yummy cookies! They were so good.
I stared at my lumpy handwriting beneath his. My handwriting had no confidence. And I'd used the word yummy. I was eighteen, not twelve, so what was that all about?
I put the pen down and started to leave again, but doubled back and added a question to the note, so that the conversation might continue:
Did you bake the cookies yourself?
On my next visit, he'd left a brand-new index card, along with different cookies.
Dear housekeeper, I hope you like gingersnaps. Yes, I made them myself. What is your name? I might name a character after you, if you don't mind. I'm writing my first detective novel, in case you're wondering. DSW.
So that explained why I hadn't been able to figure out his name—this was his first novel, and he wasn't published yet.
I cleaned the cabin, then put on one of his shirts and got started on myself in the bedroom,
finishing in the magnificent shower.
These notes went on for several visits, and I'd built DSW up in my mind so much, that when I
arrived at the cabin one day toward the end of summer, I was horrified to find someone was there.
Horrified. I had to sit on a bench in the mudroom and put my head between my knees to get my
breathing under control.
Our notes had started off innocent, but things had taken a turn for the flirty. My cleaning frequency had been increased to multiple times per week. The cabin wasn't that messy, with only one person staying there, and I suspected the owner was paying to have me come by and write him notes.
Here's how it went:
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
DSW: Lexie. That's a pretty name, and it rhymes with the word sexy. Are you sexy, Lexie? Do people call you Sexy Lexie?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Me: Only sarcastically. I could be sexy if I wanted to, maybe. I have long legs, and I guess some guys like that.