Mummy & Daddy’s Naughty Diary (Erotica)

I continued to get up every morning and take the boat out to start each work day. I made it a point to invest into a couple of items. The first was a Zippo lighter and the second was a chimenea. A chimenea is a portable ceramic fireplace that emits an incredible amount of heat. Before going out on the boat, I would start a fire in the chimenea and go find and winch in the first log of the day. Then I would take a break from the shivering cold until I was warm enough to go out again.

Usually by midmorning the sun would warm the water enough that I could skip huddling around the chimena. As I thought would happen Gayle scoffed at my need for my breaks, ascribing them to general laziness more than anything else. I responded that for a woman that wore nothing more than Texas A & M tee shirts she certainly had a lot of opinions that nobody gave a damn about.

The remark had her gulping air like crazy and tears fell as she ran towards Robert’s car and left Robert stranded with me for the day. I told Robert that I didn’t think it was that good an insult as we went to collect another log.

By now, the sawmill was up and running and Gayle and Robert had hired a couple of guys to run the sawmill. Even though it was unspoken I knew Gayle was pushing Robert to end our partnership and hire a boat crew to operate the boat. To his credit Robert refused to listen to Gayle.

Now about the only time I saw Gayle was when the three of us would go on a boat run to scout out a new area. I don’t know how she did it, but, through her research Gayle would always have us on a new trove of logs to harvest. Now her new complaint was my sloth was causing delays in getting logs to the mill. Robert pointed out that I generally kept ahead of the sawmill crew and I had a small surplus of logs built up for the sawmill crew to attend to.

Thank God for that because when I took off for Saturday’s visitation I thought she was going to come unglued. How dare I waste a day! I pointed out that the sawmill crew didn’t work on the weekends so I would not hamper the operation by taking a personal day.

So I spent another sad lonely hour alternating looking from the door to the clock waiting for a visit that wasn’t going to happen. Robert had suggested that I continue to insist the kids attend the visitation. I pointed out that any manifestation to show my love by insisting on doing something they both resented would only cause more problems. No, I wanted them to be there voluntarily.

If Gayle had bothered to notice after I got back from wasting a half day Saturday, I unloaded a log haul late that afternoon and three hauls for Sunday. The work continued to be a salve for my heartache as I wondered about Steven and Carol. Oddly, I felt an amazing lack of concern for Stella. She had so treacherously destroyed our marriage I knew there would be no rebound there.

As Fall approached, Gayle’s efforts to undermine me escalated. The increasing cold continued to hamper my efforts to collect logs. I had to take longer and longer breaks to warm up sufficiently to continue to dive on the logs. That translated to fewer hauls of my timber and more hauls of pine and oak logs that Robert contracted with other logging outfits for the sawmill operation. Gayle argued that justified terminating the partnership.

I felt a strange comparison on Stella’s and now Gayle’s efforts to denigrate me. Obviously, from my perspective I didn’t see anything that justified their actions, but, still in the back of my head I kept wondering what I had done to set them off.Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

I spent another lonely Saturday with an unanswered prayer. As I drove home I asked God if I would ever be complete again? I didn’t hear an answer.

Another couple of weeks passed and my results continued to deteriorate. I drove to Robert’s and suggested to him that maybe it was time to stop diving until Spring. I could see the victory smile on Gayle as the results continued to fall in her favor.

Then she threw a total mindfuck. She wanted to go out tomorrow on the boat to scout locations on the Red River. We had held off on going on the Red River due to our success in the tributaries. Robert reminded her that he had a prior commitment in Houston to attend to so he couldn’t make it. I could see the debate waging on Gayle’s face as she tried to decide whether she could tolerate being alone with me on the pontoon boat. She finally announced that she still wanted to go out.

That morning I went to pick her up and she hurried past me in her maroon Texas A & M sweatshirt and jeans and got in my truck. Robert was getting ready to leave himself and jokingly told me not to kill her. I just drew a deep breath and went to my truck.

All day long we spent going to various places on the river. The only time we would converse would be when she directed me to another location or when I told her I located a log by my bamboo pole. Through my experience I could distinguish when I located timber. Then she would transfix the location into her portable GPS. I took note of several disturbing facts, the main ones being the depth of the river and the rapid current. I had to throw down an additional anchor line to keep the boat from drifting as we searched for timbers.

Coupled by the tons of silt speeding through it would make diving an especially haphazard task in the murky water. Lord knows what other obstacles I would bump into down there. Anchor lines would be needed to tether to so the current wouldn’t sweep me down river. Which meant scuba gear so I could stay down long enough to fashion the winch lines around the logs. This was going to be an extremely dangerous proposition, I would need to take a refresher scuba course and update my gear. I would also need a dive partner since it had been drummed into me so long ago not to dive alone. As I continued to watch Gayle enter data into her GPS I thought about mentioning that to Gayle.

Then I had an epiphany. Gayle never intended me to dive on timbers we were scouting on. By next Spring she would have Robert convinced why I had outlived my usefulness and the need to hire lesser paid employees that would take the place of an expensive partner. The new crew would start on the treasure I had helped her locate to assure my termination.

The bitterness blinded me and I turned away from her and went back to the boat cockpit not daring to look at her plot my betrayal. The late afternoon sun was fading into evening on what would be a glamorous sunset on the river. I continued to pretend to do a chore that didn’t require me to look at her.

I heard an unfamiliar short yelp and a loud splash. I turned around to look at the bow of the boat and to my puzzlement I couldn’t locate Gayle. I heard a cry by the same time I spotted an object speeding down river.

Gayle was desperately trying to swim upriver to the boat as the river powered her downstream. By the time she started to scream I was already running up the length of the boat. By the time I dove into the water she was 50 yards downstream and sunk out of sight from an undertow.

Even as I cringed from the numbing cold of the water I knew I made the right decision to dive in after her. If Gayle had the presence of mind she wouldn’t have fought so hard to swim upstream, but, instead used her efforts to swim downstream to the bank where she could have waded out of the water. Instead she was panicking like most people would and sought to return to a safe haven.

I couldn’t have gotten the anchors up in time and start the boat to catch up to her. It was essential that I kept her in sight as best I could. I started swimming as fast as I could downstream. I heard her yell again which meant the undertow had released her and she had made her way to the surface.

I didn’t see but I knew she was trying desperately to get to me. The problem was she was quickly tiring and eventually she would go into an undertow that she would not be able to power her way back to the surface or she would collide with a snag and be injured and not be able to save herself. I had to get to her as quickly as I could. I reached the area of the undertow that sucked her under and felt it try to draw me to doom.

The difference being that I was speeding along on purpose allowed me to quickly draw away from its grasp. Slowly, ever so slowly, I gained ground as her voice weakened. Still I knifed through the water to catch up to her.

I was in midstroke when an unidentified snag rammed into my torso. It caused me to gasp from the pain and I sucked in the muddy river water and sputtered it back out as best I could. I had to ignore the pain as I continued to stroke toward Gayle.

Thirty feet, twenty feet, she disappeared again and thankfully came back up. Fifteen feet, ten, five. I saw that last remaining looks of desperation on her face before she submitted to the will of Nature. Three, two, one. Her arms blindly flailed to me and her hands snatched away to grasp me.

Now I would have to tend to a new danger of Gayle unwittingly clinching to me and riding us both to our deaths. I waited for the right moment and reached out and jerked her hair. I was using the hand on my injured side so the extra effort shot pain throughout my body , but, I continued to hold on. Luckily the pain I was causing Gayle was making her grab my arm to alleviate tugging on her hair.

As long as she continued to do that we had a chance. As I slowly guided us closer to the bank I had the incongruous thought that finally I was touching the red flames of those auburn tresses. I quickly dispelled that notion as we approached near a large sandbar. I continued to fight to get us away from the sway of the river.

Then my knee bumped into sand. I started to scramble upright. When I let go of Gayle, she panicked again and tried to grab me before she realized land was underfoot. We both crawled up the sandbar, crying, gasping for breath, shivering from the cold. Collapsing into the wet sand to try to recover.

I felt the hard muscle spasms and the numbing of my fingers and toes. I crawled up the bank ignoring the pleas of Gayle. I grabbed as much of the dry brittle pinestraws and oak leaves as I could from the peninsula of the sandbar. I stumbled back to Gayle and shielding it away from the wind as best I could, I dug out my Zippo lighter to desperately try to summon the strength and dexterity to light a fire.

The onset of hypothermia was evident in both of us. Unless I could quickly provide warmth, our metabolism would shut down and we would both die on that miserable little sandbar. I prayed hard as my thumb caused the rotation of the wheel of the lighter. Would it ignite? Had the immersion contaminated the lighter fluid? Would this be my final act of desperation?

Would I ever see my children again?