Polaroids

Shara waded through the waste high underbrush, the rise and fall of cicadas and thrill of a blackbird unnoticed. Sweat glistened on her forehead, bare arms, and chest, the air hazy from the mid August humidity. The temperature was in the mid nineties but without a breeze seemed much hotter.

It wasn't the smartest thing she had ever done wearing a sundress while breaking trail through the woods, the sting of sawgrass, thistles and thorns on her bare legs overlaid by the fear of possible ticks and Lyme disease. She paused and slowly looked around, the bottom land next to the river flooding every spring and filled with mostly maple and cottonwood, sycamore and even an occasional sassafras.

There was one specific tree she was looking for, a single oak that seemed out of place surrounded by all the other trees. She hoped it was still here having not been to this spot in over ten years. She spied a standpipe that stuck a few feet above ground, a landmark that she remembered from years before, the sound of the river splashing over stones on her left helping her orient herself before she began to push through the underbrush again.

She moved a little quicker now that she was sure of her path, trying to keep moving in the same direction while working around the occasional downed tree or denser patch of bramble. She spotted the leaves first, a darker hue of green that stood out from the maple and cottonwood, Shara angling towards the oak and the sudden open area directly beneath the shaded canopy.

Once the underbrush lessened she paused to catch her breath in the deep shade, her eyes scanning the trunk of the oak that somehow seemed smaller and older, the memory of the majestic tree at odds with the gnarled and moss covered reality. In her memory the trunk would have taken seven or eight people holding hands to encircle, but now she guessed three adults could manage the same feat. She looked up at the limbs overhead and quickly spotted the crotch where three separate limbs came together at the main trunk.

She stared up at those three limbs, a smile playing over her lips and walked forward to place a hand on the deep creases lining the bark. The texture was the same as what she remembered, rough and deeply creased, even furry where moss had covered the surface, and warm. Still smiling she walked around the trunk letting her fingertips trail over the bark until she reached a branch that was even with her shoulders. She looked upward, her eyes tracing out the path, her heart beginning to race before she toed out of her flats to stand barefoot on the soft, damp, loamy ground.

Her eyes flickered to the three branches that was her goal and then grabbed the limb. It took four jumps before she was able to boast herself up and twist around to land sitting on the first branch, the sundress riding up so that she could feel the rough bark against her butt through the satin of her panties. Carefully she reached out to grab the familiar handholds and then slowly stood up, the bark biting into the soles of her bare feet. Limb by limb she climbed upward with the rough feel of the bark against her feet, the path taking her clockwise around the trunk until she finally reached her goal. She glanced down at the ground ten feet below, her arms and legs trembling at both the effort and the height before looking back at the three limbs that formed a wide, flat area.

The warped, water stained remains of a piece of plywood still remained, the rusty heads of nails sticking up in several spots while she gingerly turned around to sit down. She carefully let the plywood take more and more of her weight, the limbs beneath giving enough support so that the plywood barely even flexed.

Shara turned around to sit cross legged with her back against the trunk and gazed out over the woods, sun dappling the ever shifting leaves. She closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of all the plants and trees with just a hint of the smell of the river. She opened her eyes and looked down to spot the sparkle of water through the canopy of maple with another nostalgic smile.

She reached down to place a palm on the warped surface of the plywood and then looked up above and behind her. A dark crevasse marred the surface of the oak's trunk, the wound a vertical slash two feet long. Slowly and carefully Shara stood up and turned around, the crack now at chest level and eyed it skeptically. She bent down to peer inside with the thought of squirrels, raccoons, spiders and possibly even a snake or two running through her mind.

There was a hidden ledge inside that hole, a ledge that you had to be brave enough to reach inside to find. Shara swallowed and pushed her hand in, the gap seemingly narrower now either from the tree having grown to heal the wound or her arm having grown larger, the edges scraping the skin of her forearm as she reached up and twisted her hand around. She swallowed again, nearly abandoning her effort while her heart hammered in her chest while she waited to feel the fur of some wild animal.

Her fingers touched something cool and smooth sitting and she quickly seized the metal box and pulled it out. The box caught twice as she tried to yank it through the hole in her panic before she twisted it sideways and managed to slip it free.

"Shit!" Shara exclaimed at the sight of a spider crawling over her wrist, her other hand swiping at it to knock it away before she gazed down at her prize.

The box was the size of an old cigar box but made of tin, the old, bright red enamel chipped away so that only a few spots retained its original color. She was surprised at how much her hands were trembling as she held the box and attributed it to the scare she had with the spider. She sank back down to sit, her back once again pressed back against the trunk while she simply held the box and stared sown at it.

Ten years and it was still there.

She tried to ignore how much her fingers were still trembling, tried to insist that it was that silly spider and pried at the lid until it snapped open. The hinges were old and corroded, the lid not wanting to move at all as she lifted it up.

A crumpled back of Marlboro Reds, a lighter and a glass pipe a few inches long rested on top of several sealed Ziplock bags. She gave a small laugh and picked up the purple Bic lighter, her thumb giving the wheel several spins to send sparks flying without any luck at lighting it before setting it aside. Next was the ancient pack of cigarettes, a glance inside still showing three that hadn't been smoked before it joined the lighter resting on the plywood. She picked up the glass pipe next, the clear glass molted with purples, greens and yellows in a swirling pattern, the bowl still gummed and tarred with black residue. She gave the bowl a sniff, unsure if she really could smell a hint of a skunky aroma or if it was just her imagination and sat it down as well.

She stared down into the tin and four crumpled one dollar bills and a handful of change resting on top of the Ziplock baggies. She could make out a polaroid picture in the top baggy, a picture of herself and Brandon sitting in this exact spot, their cheeks pressed together, her brown and his sandy blond hair sticking up crazily while they grinned at the camera. An original selfie long before cell phones and selfies and been invented.

With her fingers trembling more than ever from that silly spider she took out the top Ziplock baggy and unsealed it before removing a stack of polaroid pictures from within. The image she had seen had bled around the edges, the colors running together and completely ruining the bottom quarter, but it was still easy to make out the rest. Her and Brandon sitting up here on a day so similar to today, their expressions happy and carefree, unconcerned with the world around them or what was to come.

Shara swallowed and placed the top photo on the bottom of the stack, the next image showing her laying back on the plywood, the surface covered by a padded bedspread that Brandon had brought along when they came out to their secret hideaway. She was wearing to tight Daisy Duke jean shorts and a bikini top, her eyes closed while she pretended not to notice Brandon taking her picture. She flipped through several more pictures of herself, Brandon snapping shots from different angles while she had pretended to ignore him until she found one of him glaring at her. She smiled at the memory of finally managing to claim Brandon's father's polaroid camera from him, Brandon claiming that she'd break the camera trying to take pictures of him instead of her. He had a narrow face with a square jaw, a prominent nose that she had constantly kidded him about being his beak, and pale gray eyes. In the picture he had on a tight gray t shirt that molded to his arms and chest as well as faded and ripped jeans. She smiled while she gazed at the picture and imagined Brandon's voice laughing while she had took that picture.

Shara palmed away the tears that she discovered slipping down her cheek and went to the next picture and had to snort back a laugh. The picture was of her own feet resting in Brandon's lap, one of his hands massaging her instep while he had used the other to take the shot. She smiled at the memory of how much he had enjoyed giving her foot rubs and then shook her head at how those same foot rubs would usually lead to something more.

The next two pictures were also of her feet, the second she had taken while splaying her toes wide and pressing them against Brandon's face. She grinned at his delighted grin and shook her head, although if forced to admit it, she still enjoyed Rick giving her a foot rub on the rare occasion that he could be convinced to amuse her.

The thought of her husband made her glance up guiltily and scan the ground below for a moment before moving on to the next picture.

Her heart froze for an instant when she looked down and saw her own breasts captured in the image. Small B cup mosquito bites with conical, dark red areola and prominent, long nipples. In the picture Shara was laying on her back, eyes again closed as she pretended to not notice the pictures Brandon was taking. Even now after two children that she had breastfeed she had small breasts, breasts that might on a good day and with a very good pushup bra pass for modest C cups. She reached up with her free hand and gave herself a squeeze through the light material of her sundress, her nipple scraping against the fabric unrestrained by a bra she really didn't need and rarely bothered to wear.

Shara swallowed while she stared down at the image of herself. There was a song that Kid Rock sang, a country song that she never would have associated with him since she didn't like most of his other work. She couldn't think of the name off the top of her head, but it had been about a young couple finding love one hot summer, a perfect theme song for what she and Brandon had shared together after they had graduated High School and before she had moved away to begin college. She stared down at herself in the faded picture for another moment and then went to the next picture.

She smiled when she saw what it contained, her stomach fluttering and her even, white teeth biting at her lower lip without realizing it. The picture was of Brandon from the waist down, his pants off and his erection thrust out from a nest of black, curly hair. She stared at the picture of his dick, a small drop of liquid catching the light at his tip. She had been so relieved the first time she had seen him. She had been scared at how she was supposed to fit something eight or nine inches long inside of her body or even her mouth, the sight of his modest five or six inches had been a relief as well as lighting an intense, burning liquid fire between her legs.

Shara smiled and placed a palm against the warped plywood. It had been here, in this very same spot where she had given herself to Brandon for that very first time. So many of her girlfriends had described their first time as rushed and fumbling, something they would always regret and wish they could change.

But not Shara. She and Brandon may have been fumbling and unsure, learning as much about their own bodies as their lovers, but they had spent the entire hot, humid Saturday naked together, touching, caressing, tasting, savoring the pleasure that they were giving as well as receiving. Shara took a deep breath and tried to ignore the ache that had begun between her thighs and then went to the next picture.

She easily recognized herself in the picture, her flower on prominent display with her fingers holding herself open. She could see inside the mouth of her vulva, a sheen of liquid slipping out of her, her large labia glazed while she used both hands to stretch and hold herself open, a single fingertip pressed against her hood just above her clit. A small, unnoticed moan escaped her as she gazed down at her womanhood, her hymen having been taken only a week or two before this very picture.

Shara advanced through the next few pictures, more of her holding her body open for Brandon to gaze inside, a picture of her with two fingers buried all the way inside of herself, a picture of her holding and squeezing Brandon's dick in her hand, one of her with him in her mouth.

She stopped and laughed at a picture of Brandon's face between her thighs, his tongue sticking out and pressed inside of her vulva, his eyes open as he gazed up at her while she had held the camera and took the picture. She shook her head while she smiled, Brandon somehow managing to convey a smile of his own, to come across so pleased with himself with his tongue inside of her pussy, his lips and even his nose glazed and wet from her juices.

She was still amazed that she hadn't gotten pregnant. The two of them spending two months coming out to their secret hideaway every possible chance they could get, making love together perched in their tree for hours at a time without any heed to birth control at all. It was a miracle that she hadn't caught pregnant.

She moved on to the next picture and bit her lip hard at the blurry, out of focus image of her sitting in Brandon's lap, his erection impaling her as the camera had pointed down between their bodies. She felt her sheath squeeze in sympathy, felt the need to having something filling and stretching her while she gazed down at her younger self being filled and stretched.

Two months that to this day she remembered as the best sex, the most sexual she had ever felt in her entire life.

Shara stared at the image of Brandon's dick inside of her, her body responding to the memories of him thrusting into her, of the feel of his wet, warm seed filling her, of him simply holding her, his arms wrapped around her body with his dick buried deep while they had simply held each other and kissed for twenty or thirty minutes, or even longer if they had already sated their immediate needs.

The next picture was of Brandon's shaft still wet from her juices halfway into her mouth, her eyes gleaming as she looked up at him as she conveyed her own happiness and pride in the power she possessed over him in that moment.

She couldn't recall the details of the last time Rick had made love to her months ago, details beyond the fact that they had made love missionary with all the lights out without any foreplay. A few thrusts and then he had rolled over to fall asleep while she had used her fingers to bring herself to completion with his seed for a lube.

But she remembered the feel of Brandon inside of her, the taste of his seed mingled with her juices when she had taken him in her mouth after they had made love, the way his mouth had moved over her body, possessing her soul one kiss at a time, the smell of his hair and his sweat. She remembered the smell and the taste of his cum.

Shara moaned again, a hand straying beneath the light fabric of her sundress to press her fingers against the warm, wet cleft outlined in the satin material of her panties. She ran a fingertip up and down that wet cleft for a moment, her eyes never leaving the sight of Brandon embedded inside of her.

Shara moved on to the next picture after she pulled her hand away from between her legs, the view crooked and off center in the picture, but one she recognized as a view of her flower seen from below and looking up with Brandon's shaft again impaling her. She licked her lips and was able to recall when she and Brandon had taken this exact picture, how she had been on all fours with Brandon behind her and thrusting into her. She had placed the polaroid camera between her legs pointed up and taken several different shots while they had laughed together, Brandon thrusting madly between shots and only pausing when she declared she was ready for the next. In the end Shara had managed to capture several images of her or Brandon's thighs, one of the padded bedspread they had made love on, and then this, an out of focus off center and crooked image of her labia wrapped around Brandon's wet, glazed shaft halfway inside of her.

Shara lifted her hips enough for her free hand to catch at the hem of her panties and slip them down. Once she managed to slip them off her feet she brought them up to her nose to breath in her strong, musky aroma for a moment before setting them aside. She moved on to the next picture and found her and Brandon's faces pressed cheek to cheek smiling and staring up at her.

Slowly, one picture at a time Shara again looked at each picture in turn, her feet pulled up so that the soles were pressed together while she used a finger to strum and circle her clit. The rise and fall of cicadas continued to fill the air, but now with the addition of her soft moans as she paused at the picture of Brandon's sex glazed length in her mouth. The pressure, the need was already there, the pleasure of her finger fluttering over her pearl making both surge while she went to the next picture of her on all fours with her labia wrapped around his shaft. She moaned louder, her hips picking up off the warped wood of the plywood, her sheath and asshole squeezing rhythmically at the wave of pleasure cresting and breaking over her.

Shara collapsed back against the rough bark of the tree trunk, her body trembling and her clit suddenly to sensitive to even touch. She let herself recover for a few moments, eyes closed and her fingertips lightly stroking the swell of her sex just above her cleft until finally sitting up.

She continued to pant, her body covered in sweat while she slipped the polaroid pictures into the Ziplock baggy and carefully sealed it shut. She glanced curiously down into the tin at the next baggy which seemed to contain newspaper clippings and took it carefully out.

She began to thumb through each clipping, the first a few months after she had started college, a long list of times for the 100 meter freestyle and 200 meter individual medley. She was confused at the list until she spotted her name in both. The next clip was a newspaper article about her sorority house, a bevy of women lined up in tiers outside the old Victorian house, Shara spotting herself in the third row. More newspaper clippings followed, each one pertaining to herself in some way including her college graduation and a few years later an announcement about her wedding to Rick and then in due time the birth of both of her daughters.

It should have been creepy, a stalker following her life from a distance, a detective stumbling onto a serial killers room plastered in pictures of his intended victim, but it wasn't. She felt more than anything sad at the evidence of Brandon following her life, the way he must have returned to this tree so many times to add to this collection.

Sad at the lost possibilities of what might have been if he had simply reached out. Sent a letter. Called. Emailed.

She resealed the baggy of newspaper clippings and returned it to the tin. She hesitated at replacing the baggy of intimate pictures, the thought of what would happen if some kids in search of a treehouse happened to stumble across the tin making her face burn in shame. She weighed the pictures in her hand, bounced the baggy up and down and then finally with an embarrassed glance down at the forest floor placed them back into the tin. She added the cigarettes and spent lighter, glanced at the pipe that she had experimented with marijuana with and then closed the tin tightly. She hesitated a moment and then pried the tin open again. She reached down to retrieve her satin panties, even reaching between her legs to wipe at her moisture with the soft cloth and then added the damp cloth to the tin as well. She sealed the tin shut and with a deep breath replaced it in her and Brandon's secret hidden spot.

Shara stood up and took a final glance around. The funeral for her mother had been the day before yesterday, there would be no call to ever return to her hometown ever again. She glanced at the tree trunk, a deeply carved heart with a cupid's arrow piercing it with the letters BS + SW in the middle. She remembered carving those letters, but she never had carved the three words beneath the heart.

I miss you.

Shara reached out a finger to trace slowly over those three words and tried to ignore the tears spilling down her cheeks.

"I miss you too," Shara whispered and then began to carefully climb down out of the tree.