The Dock at Dawn

The lake house was supposed to be a retreat, a quiet weekend of repairs and bad coffee. I hadn't counted on Maya next door, or the way her wet hair dripped down her spine when she swam over to my dock that first morning, her husband already gone for the week on business.

"Thought you could use a proper welcome," she said, water streaming off her shoulders, her tank top clinging like a second skin. She didn't bother crossing her arms. "Mark's never around. Gets lonely."

I tightened my grip on the hammer I'd been holding. "Lonely seems like a dangerous thing to be out here."

She smiled, slow and knowing. "That's the point."

The sun was barely up, the lake flat as glass, and she climbed onto the dock without asking. Water pooled at her feet. She was close enough I could smell the lake on her skin, the faint coconut of sunscreen.

"You're married," I said, stupidly.

"So is my husband. Doesn't stop him." She stepped closer, her bare toes inches from mine. "You going to make me beg, or are you going to kiss me?"

I dropped the hammer. It clattered against the wood, loud in the morning quiet. Her mouth found mine before I could think, and she tasted like coffee and something sweeter. Her hands were already at my shorts, fumbling with the drawstring.

"Been thinking about this since I saw you hauling lumber yesterday," she breathed against my lips. "Watching you work. God, the way your arms moved."

"Fuck, Maya—"

"Shut up and help me with this." She yanked my shorts down and her fingers wrapped around my cock, which was already hard, painfully hard, leaking against her palm. She stroked me once, slow, and I groaned into her neck.

"Been a while?" she whispered.

"Too long."

She laughed, low and dirty. "Good. Means you'll be quick. We can work on that." She pushed me down onto the dock, the boards rough against my back, and she straddled me, her swimsuit bottoms already kicked aside. Her pussy was slick, warm, and she sank down onto me in one smooth motion, both of us gasping.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned, her head falling back. "That's it. That's exactly what I needed."

I grabbed her hips, held her still, felt every inch of her clenching around me. Her tits swayed under the wet tank top, and I reached up, peeled it off, buried my face in her chest. She tasted of sun and sweat and lake water.

She rode me hard, her nails digging into my chest, the dock creaking beneath us. "You feel so good," she panted. "So fucking thick. I'm going to come on your cock, you know that?"

"Do it," I growled, thrusting up to meet her.

She came with a cry that echoed across the water, her body shuddering, her pussy gripping me so tight I saw stars. I flipped her over before she could recover, got her on her hands and knees, and slammed into her from behind. Her ass slapped against my thighs, wet and loud.

"Yes," she hissed. "Yes, right there. Don't stop."

I didn't. I fucked her until my knees were raw and the sun was fully up, until she was begging and sobbing and coming again, and I came inside her with a groan, my face buried in her neck, her body trembling beneath mine.

Afterward, we lay tangled on the dock, catching our breath. She traced patterns on my chest with her finger.

"Mark won't be back till Friday," she murmured.

I looked at her, at the flush on her cheeks, the satisfied smile curving her lips. "That's four days."

"Plenty of time to practice."

She stood, stretched, and dove back into the lake without another word. I watched her swim away, her body cutting through the water, and I knew I was in trouble.

Friday came too fast. I heard Mark's truck pull into their driveway, heard the slamming of doors, the cheerful greetings. I stayed inside, trying to focus on anything else.

Then came the knock. I opened the door to find Maya standing there, holding a casserole dish, wearing a sundress and a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Behind her, Mark waved from their porch.

"Welcome to the neighborhood," she said, her voice flat, and she handed me the dish.

I took it. Our fingers brushed. She held my gaze for a beat too long.

"Maybe you should come over for dinner sometime," she said, and I could hear the double meaning in every syllable. "Mark would love to meet you."

I nodded, mute, and she turned and walked back across the lawn.

I didn't sleep that night. I lay in the guest room, listening to the crickets, thinking about the way she'd looked at me. The casserole sat untouched in the fridge.

The next morning, I went down to the dock. She was already there, sitting at the edge, her feet dangling in the water. She didn't turn when I approached.

"He's going back on Monday," she said quietly. "I need you to know something."

I sat down beside her. "What?"

She finally looked at me, and there was something raw in her eyes. "I'm leaving him. I've been planning it for months. The lake house was the last stop before I told him."

I stared at her. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I wanted you to know it wasn't just about the sex." She smiled, small and fragile. "I wanted you to know I chose you."

I didn't know what to say. I reached for her hand, and she let me hold it.

We sat there until the sun rose, our fingers intertwined, the water lapping at our feet. And when we finally kissed, slow and tender, it was different. It was a beginning, not an ending.

Monday morning, I helped her pack her car. Mark watched from the porch, confused, and I felt a pang of something almost like guilt. But then Maya came down the steps, met my eyes, and smiled — a real smile this time — and the feeling vanished.

"See you around, neighbor," she said, and got in the car.

She drove off, and I stood in the driveway, watching until she was out of sight.

The lake house felt emptier without her. I went inside, made coffee, and sat at the kitchen table, staring at the water.

The coffee turned cold. I didn't care.

The phone rang. I picked it up.

"It's Maya." Her voice was warm, familiar. "I'm at a motel about an hour out. The address is on the fridge."

I looked at the refrigerator. A sticky note was stuck to the door, covered in her handwriting.

"Are you coming?" she asked.

I grabbed my keys.