Sex Retreat(10)

Stilled by what he saw in the glossy images, Cash couldn’t escape a nagging suspicion that maybe a groundskeeper hadn’t been employed by Colony. Perhaps the Cartwell woman had been there. If so, would she return again?

Cash went rigid. His cock throbbed in agitation. He’d become accustomed to his growing anxiety whenever he thought of her. The pictures only made him long for her more. Trixie held his future in the palm of her hand, and soon she would realize how much she meant to him.

Without a doubt, one day they would be together forever. It was written in stone, sealed as his fate. And Cash believed in sanctified destinies.

“Soon, Trixie,” he muttered, growing more anxious by the second as he glanced around at the apartment’s appointments. He paid closer attention to details then.

The color scheme and décor suggested a woman had decorated the place. There were matching rose pillows with needlepoint stitching. Large frames housed floral prints and fake potted plants added character to every corner.

“That’s it. That’s why these quarters are well maintained.”

Trixie Cartwell had been there. It was the only explanation for the well-kept grounds and various memorabilia left behind.

There wasn’t a groundskeeper. The reason everything looked untouched was because Trixie Cartwell couldn’t let go of the past. And even though Mitch Colony had been in prison, his work at Cow Camp had not been in vain.

Trixie must’ve returned there on occasion. She must’ve kept things in running order, on the chance Mitch was freed on short notice. They were friends, after all. Weren’t they?

Cash slipped his hand down the front of his slacks and wrapped his flaccid cock in a loose fist. He narrowed his gaze on his favorite Trixie image and pumped his dick, determined to make love to her right then and there. Some might say the fucking was only an illusion, but later he’d share these very special memories with the woman of his dreams.

“Ah yes. If only you were here, my darling.”

He moistened his lips and tried to imagine her before him. She was standing on the dock wearing white-washed denim shorts and a fitted navy halter, tied under her perky breasts. She struck an inviting pose with her index finger crooked. The come-hither look was designed to seduce a man—perhaps even him.

“Ah, baby lady. Mitch didn’t return for you, but I’m here instead. And I promise, my love, I will wait for you. One day soon, we’ll be together for the rest of all time.”





Chapter Four




Brock tossed the last of the luggage in their SUV and turned to Trixie, now saying good-bye to Winter and Cazeron.

“Is that everything?” Rory asked, following Brock back to the house.

“I believe so,” Brock replied right as his cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Who’s calling at this time of the morning?”

“Bertie from Cow Camp,” Brock replied. “Let me tell her we’ll be staying there for a bit and I’ll be right out.”

“This is Brock Sheldon,” he said, taking the call.

“Brock, this is Bertie. I wanted to touch base. Claude had a heart attack.”

“Oh, Bertie, I’m sorry to hear that.” Bertie and Claude had taken care of Cow Camp for nearly three decades. The older couple had originally worked for Mitch’s parents.

“Well, it’s gonna be just fine,” she said, forever the optimist. “The doctor said this was a little warning sent from above. That’s the way we’re gonna look at this thing, but I wanted you to know that I haven’t been out to the camp in three or four days. You know Claude. He hates for me to go all the way out there alone. I’m sorry, Brock. I can’t leave Claude right now and I just don’t know how I can manage the place on my own.”

“Hey listen. No problem. In fact, I was planning to call you. Rory and I are taking Trixie out of town today. We’re headed north but I wanted to swing by the lodge and stay for a night or two.”

“The camp is in outstanding order,” she said proudly. “We had high hopes, you know. We had thought Mitch might want to reopen the place. We worked hard to make sure the property was just as he’d left it before he was sentenced.”

Brock smiled to himself. The couple had actually gone out of their way to leave the camp precisely as Mitch had left the facilities. He and Rory had driven to Abingdon the year before. It was almost eerie. Cow Camp hadn’t changed a bit in the seven years since they’d been there.

“Tell you what, since Claude isn’t well, you take off a month. I’ll make sure someone tends to the place.”

“Oh, Brock, I can’t put that on you.”