The Fisherman

The Fisherman

It was my daily routine to watch the angler through the cottage window. At 2:00 PM every day, he rowed out to the middle of the lake, pulled in his fish pots before rowing back to his little dock. Shirtless, in just a pair of cut-off jeans that stuck to his thighs like a second skin, he did his daily tasks. As he pulled in the pot, his biceps bulged, while his back muscles rippled and glistened with sweat. His golden tan that he must have gained from being out in the sun often, gleamed in the afternoon sun.

Involuntarily, I stuck my tongue out, passing it over dry lips, whilst observing his ritual. Occasionally, he turned my way looking ashore, though I was certain he wasn’t able to see me through the lace curtains of the window.

Today, he did the same, turned and looked, then resumed his task. As soon as he began rowing back to his dock, I moved away from the curtain, going back to my computer. The guilt of lustily ogling the village fisherman made me feel like a pervert. With some effort, I pushed it from my mind and concentrated on finishing the novel I was working on.

I never ventured outside much. Whenever I did go out, I stayed away from everyone. I wasn’t sure if I was an introvert. I knew I was not a socialite, but I didn’t consider myself as shy. I loved my own space and hated having people around me. Okay I could be called a semi-introvert if that was even a word.

Nevertheless, I counted myself as being different. As the only person of color in Lakeside, a remote village in Switzerland, I felt their eyes watching me, and heard the whispers.

Now, I knew they would start talking if they knew I was perversely watching Jake. Yes, I’d heard them call his name at the dock as they bought his fish. Though I loved seafood, I refrained from going out to make any purchases because I was afraid. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to hide how much he affected me. Every time I saw him, my heart did a few somersaults and my pulse galloped like a spooked horse.

On this day, I was thinking of making coffee and resuming work when a knock at the door startled me. No one ever visited me in the six months I lived there, so this came as a complete surprise. Briefly, I wondered if I’d unknowingly done something wrong, or if by some weird voodoo someone knew I was lusting after Jake.

A queasy feeling presented in my stomach at the thought of the neighbors knowing my secret. Nervously I inched towards the door, certain they were going to demand I leave Lakeside because of my lust fest. Tentatively, I reached for the doorknob, pulling my hand back with a tremor.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered.

The knock came again, and I jumped. With a deep breath, I bravely pulled the door open, planting a bright smile on my face. The smile quickly faded as my heart stopped, with me looking up into the face of a man who was grinning down at me.

“Hi,” Jake drawled.

His voice made my knees weak, as its rich smoothness washed over me. It was just as I’d imagined it to be… sexy. His presence was overpowering, as I’d never realized just how tall he actually was. His frame seemed to swallow up the doorway.

He was wearing a t-shirt, almost too small for his wide shoulders, which he seemed to have pulled it on in a hurry. I chanced a look up into his magnetic blue eyes, like whirlpools, pulling me in. I was certain I was going to swoon, right there and then.

“Hi,” was my shaky reply, trying to smile but I knew I looked silly.

He held up a 3 lb trout. “I thought maybe you’d like this,” he said.

My eyes flicked to his face and he was smiling. His delectable lips were stretched across white even teeth and I knew I’d stopped breathing.

Shakily, my hand reached out and took the fish, which he’d placed on a sheet of newspaper. As I took the fish, my fingers brushed against his, sending an electric charge sprinting up my arm.

“How much is it?” I inquired in a tremulous voice.

“It’s a gift,” he replied with that dangerous smile of his.

My heart did a double take. He perhaps could not see the heat rise up my neck and face due to the honey complexion of my skin. A wisp of my charcoal semi wavy hair caught my eye. I blinked and tucked it with a trembling hand behind my ear, while my heart drummed unevenly beneath my ribs.

“Thank you,” I croaked. Embarrassed, I cleared the frog and repeated, “Thank you.”

It happened four times. He would bring me fish. I would become hot all over while he smiled down at me. On the second occasion, I caught him staring at my lips. Like an idiot, I’d licked my lips at the exact moment, kicking myself afterward, wondering if he thought I was seducing him.

The third time it was my breast that his eyes rested on. They weren’t large boobs, just average but nice and firm. I was wearing a t-shirt that fitted neatly to my size 8 body. The fourth time he came he leaned against the door-frame and mentioned the weather. That day he stayed for fifteen minutes talking about Lakeside.

Today…the fifth time and he was standing there with his day old stubble, which I wanted to rub my cheeks against. But instead of just saying ‘thanks’ as before, I found myself doing something weird.

“Would you like to share it with me? It’s so big,” I said and like an idiot again, my eyes dropped to his crotch. I caught myself in time and looked away.

“I’d love to,” he grinned.

“In an hour?” I asked, heart racing at a zillion beats per second.

He was back in forty-five minutes, bathed and dressed in a pair of jeans and flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves. I also showered and changed into a pair of jeans and tees.

As I let him in, he remarked, “I like your pretty brown eyes. I like them watching me through the window.” His eyes glanced over at the window where I’d watched him every day.

I almost fainted…or did I?

© 2016 Carolee Samuda