Winter Harbor

I didn't hesitate at all. We agreed to the offer and he emailed me a contract agreement that I signed and sent right back to him. When it was done I sat back in my chair and congratulated myself before I realized I now needed to come up with a topic list.

Two weeks later I sent in my first article and a month after that I received a copy of the weekly with my first serious publication in it. The on-line version had a combox and by the time the 2nd article was published I started developing a small fan base. It felt good but even with that my life still felt like a rut.

Then God upped the ante. Two things occurred that opened up the façade of my existence. I received another call, this one out of the blue soliciting a submission for publication with a small syndication which I answered immediately. The other was a call from my sister telling me our Grandfather had passed away. I had always been close although my sister was the baby girl he never had so he spoiled her rotten. I never minded that but now he was gone and all that was left were my Dad and my sister.

When the will was revealed to my sister and me, we discovered that Dad inherited the family farm in Hiram and Grandma's old homestead outside of Gorham was to be sold with the proceeds split between my sister and me, if neither one of us wanted to live on it. In that case one would buy out the other. Suffice to say, we sold and took the cash.

Real estate markets in western Maine are in one word, hot, especially for large intact 300 acre farms. Dad handled the sale and my sister and I split proceeds of $900K after taxes. I almost fell out of my chair when he told us what it came to.

The syndication opportunity actually jelled for an article to be published in 8 New England newspapers every four weeks for $1,000 each submission.

It had been roughly six months since I walked out of the Mt. Pleasant condo and out of Kari's life. I knew she wouldn't be lacking for companionship even if my interloper and nemesis whoever he was turned out to be less than love. As for me, I had been laid two times in those six months, neither one being spectacular.

It was a cool but mild January Saturday morning that found me on a bench again at the Battery just killing a bit of time and enjoying the sunshine. From where I was sitting I could see her quite well but I was obscured from her vision. Kari sat on her bench alone with her knees propped closely to her chest seemingly deep in thought or at least preoccupied.

A few moments later a guy who looked vaguely familiar walked over to the bench and sat down next to her and put his arm around her. She didn't seem to mind it but there was no reciprocation. He bent down and kissed her and they both just sat there staring out into the bay.

'She has definitely moved on' I told myself only half convincingly and I rose from the bench and walked back to my truck.

That was the day I made the decision to leave it all behind and return to Maine. I was making more money than I ever dreamed of with the company now but it didn't really mean much to me anymore. I had lost the love of my life and seeing her with another man that day opened the wound again. The truth is I was still very much in love with her but after six months there was still that other man in her life.

I resigned that Monday when I went into work and two weeks later I opted out of renewing another six month lease on the apartment and with a trailer behind my truck I headed for Maine.

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I should have waited a few months before pointing myself north. The start of February is no time to restart a life in the State of Maine; it is the dead of winter. Instead of discovering my own Nirvana I ended up living with Dad in Hiram until we got through winter and mud season.

If you have never been through a mud season it is hard to appreciate the arrival of warm and dry weather like a Maineac does. Tires sink to the wheel wells if you dare leave the hard and true road before you. The ground stinks of old dog turd for a while and lawns rut up with single boot tracks. At the end of it however are the most glorious late spring, summer and autumn seasons anywhere on earth in my opinion.

I bid Dad farewell on May 1st and pointed myself toward the coast with Bar Harbor and its environs my first stop. What struck me first was the price of Paradise; everything with a roof and windows was just as expensive as what I had left behind in Charleston. I had a lot of money from the inheritance and my savings but as I've noted, I'm a minimalist by nature and I don't buy what I don't really need or feel comfortable with.

I grabbed a bite to eat and hit the road travelling east on Route 1. By nightfall I ended up in Machias and found a vacancy in a small Inn and a dinner of fried clams and scallops washed down with a couple local beers. Next stop was one of the bars in the neighborhood.

It was a dive and a fun one to be sure. A half way decent busker found a gig strumming out Jed Strunk songs on a beat up Yamaha guitar with an occasional harmonica blast to keep us all awake for the next number, all in good fun. I ended up buying piña coladas for a late 20s something continuing education chick at UM-Machias and after half a dozen of them I found her hand resting on my growing member and we made our way back to my room at the Inn.

I woke up the next morning with her oral ministrations bringing me to an absolutely joyous place. After we cleaned up I bought her breakfast, got her business card and with a quick kiss and hug headed east on Route 1 again.

It became a routine. I would drive the coast looking for an Inn to spend the night and spend the days exploring the local communities and if I was fortunate enough to get laid occasionally that just added to the pleasure. I hooked up with Miss Machias one more time before I found myself motoring off the main highway and down towards Winter Harbor.

I found my home in Winter Harbor and a place I knew I could find comfort for a soul not looking to sow wild oats but to secure a respite and a place where a man can rediscover who he is and what he wants out of life. I had been writing and submitting my articles on the road and they took on a life of their own with a documentary of my travels and travails. The letters and combox discussions opened up a small cult following of sorts that tuned into whatever was happening on my personal sojourn.

So I settled down a bit and went to work on the old farm I bought. While it was in generally good repair, old houses are always in need of something and this place was no exception. New paint, weather stripping, redoing parts of the interior, a new barn door, taking in a stray coon cat that some fool dropped off on the country road; all these things occupied my mind and time through that first summer and into winter.

That first May in Winter Harbor, I turned to gardening and even purchased a few egg laying hens as I continued my transformation. My hair was longer and what passed for a beard continued to try to form into something respectable but I quit it after a couple months of trying. One thing I never stopped was working out. I turned a part of the barn into a farmer's workout gym with pullups, ropes, timber lifts and everything else I could think of to stay hard.

With the hard work, gardening and always pounding on something and chopping wood, the efforts were paying dividends. I was as sculptured as I had ever been, healthier than my time as a competing athlete. A few of my evenings were invested in a local Inn and Tavern that had their own Ale and a regular clientele. One of the regulars was a woman named Heidi who had moved here from Burlington, Vermont to take up residence as a budding artist and author.

Heidi and I had not been anything more than acquaintances over the past several months. She was a few years older than I, maybe early 40s and a recent divorcee. Apparently she made out well in the separation because she paid cash for a great big Victorian house right in the village and poured a lot of money into it to get it to her particular tastes. It was within walking distance of the Tavern. For that matter so is every other house in the village!

We were pounding down Ales trying to best the other one particular evening and doing a good job of it. Heidi was actually beating me.

"Bartholomew, when I have you all drunk and helpless, I'm going to pour you into a wheelbarrow and push you back to my place." She said to me through her half lidded eyes.

The only other person to call me Bartholomew was my grandfather when I was a kid. I kind of liked it that way but I was OK with Heidi calling me that. She said it was sexy so argue with it?

"If you can pull all that off then you can have your way with me." I kidded in return.

She wasn't kidding at all. She poured two more Ales into me and led me by the arm to her place. Apparently there wasn't a wheelbarrow available. When we arrived, we were two drunken revelers and burst through the door arm in arm and stared at a couple going at it on the rug right in front of us in the front parlor.

"Jesus, Mother, don't you knock?" The girl under the guy shouted out as he kept sawing in and out of her before realizing in his stoned stupor that they were no longer alone.

Heidi tried to respond but her laughter wouldn't allow it and she was leaning onto me in her peals of uproarious hilarity. I just had a huge grin on my face because the beautiful young lady on the floor was splayed wide open showing me every shade of pink a young woman can muster. The young fellow beside her tried covering up with his shirt.

"Bartholomew, this is my daughter Gail; Gail, meet Bartholomew, Bartholomew, Gail."

With that she laughingly led me around the corner and up the stairs to her master suite.

If you have ever been one to enjoy the fruits of the older woman, you'll understand my cause for celebration. Both of us were inebriated, aroused and at that point uninhibited. Heidi peeled off her top and unclasped the leopard print bra allowing it drop to the bed. Her fingers found the clasp to my belt and in moments my trousers, shorts and socks were scattered across the floor.

She immediately pushed me back onto the bed and in a single svelte move dropped her wet mouth onto my fully engorged prick. The luscious pleasure she gave me was unmatched by anything I had experienced in years, perhaps even back to before I was married. After a few moments she swung her hips and thighs over my waiting mouth and lowered her wet sex straight to my mouth. How she maneuvered her skirt and panties off while sucking my prick was a mystery but not worth a moment of wonder.

Neatly trimmed, wet and delicious is how I describe it to this day and had I not wanted to fuck this wonderful woman I could have devoured that beautiful pink morsel until we collapsed in exhaustion. Once she soaked my face in a powerful orgasm she swung off and laid back in the bed, her pussy opened wide; a condom was already in her hand and I brought my prick up to her grasp as she rolled it down over the head and down the length of my erection.

If I thought eating her pussy was glorious, it was literally nothing compared to pushing into the hot butter of her wet vagina. She was moist, tight and highly aroused and we fucked slowly, quickly and then with an even tempered keel, I laid pipe into that wonderful goddess. When I felt her orgasm I couldn't hold back any longer and filled the condom with white milky seed.

Lying there with her afterwards was wonderful. I hadn't felt so satisfied with a woman since my happy married days. We were both inebriated so sleep came quick for both of us and I'd like to think we did it again in the morning but we didn't. She was up before me and showered before I woke. When she came back into the bedroom she pulled the covers off me.

"Hey, Bartholomew, wake up." She stood before me naked, an absolute picture of beauty. Her breasts were shaped like small apples each with an erect eraser nipple protruding out and slightly upward. Her tummy was tight and flat and that delicious neatly trimmed dark 'V' parked so nicely between those firm thighs. I loved every feature of the view.

"I'm fixing breakfast so hop up. Towels are in the closet and there is an extra toothbrush in the drawer in the bathroom. Come on down when you are ready."

So that's what I did and twenty minutes later I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Heidi was at the stove and sitting at the table was the girl we saw getting fucked in the middle of the floor the previous evening.

"You remember Gail, right?" Heidi said glancing back over her shoulder. I did.

Gail looked me up and down, licked her lips and smiled.

"Nice ... Mom, you like them pretty."

She pushed out a chair for me to sit in and I took it.

"I'm sorry you had to see that last night." She said while smiling coyly.

"I really didn't mind." I was being truthful too. I still had the image of that young open pussy lying there before me. She just laughed in a pleasant manner and said 'I bet'.

She looked a good bit like her mother but there must have been her father's influence as well because her eyes were dark and her hair much darker than Heidi's. I knew from the previous night her breasts were considerably larger. I know it's kinky and I've never done it but I thought for a moment about a mother-daughter romp. The breakfast tray brought me out of that thought almost immediately.

We enjoyed the morning eats and then Heidi and I fell into a pleasant conversation out in her backyard garden.

"So what were you running away from when you came here?" She asked me.

"It might have been the same thing you were."

"No, I doubt it. My ex-husband packed his bags and flew off to be with his very young Argentinian princess once Gail turned 18. He never looked back and I would have plucked his eyes out if he did. No, I didn't need to run, hell, I skipped and danced all the way here with half his bank account, the proceeds from the sale of the house and 1/3 of his company. I hope he thinks she was worth it. Wait, that's not true. I hope he finds out it's NOT!"

She gave a boisterous laugh at her words.

"Well, Heidi, I guess my case might be a bit different. My wife didn't want a divorce and the truth be known neither did I. She just couldn't make up her mind who she loved and while she was trying to determine that she thought it was reasonable to try out her fucking pussy on the other guy to test compatibility I guess.

"She had been doing it for months before I found out and didn't give any indication she was going to stop. Being a willing cuckold just wasn't going to play out in my life plans. Actually, I don't know if I'm still married to her or not. We had an ironclad prenup so there was nothing to fight over. I just don't know if she ever filed or not. Since I basically abandoned the marriage I'm sure her daddy could take care of it."

I think Heidi could sense a bit of bitterness in my words because I could taste it.

"Yeah, all that, but you did run away didn't you and came here?" She asked probing for more with a tender compassionate look in her eye.

"Yup, I sure did." I replied with a slight chuckle. "I took one look at her on a park bench with some other guy's arm around her about six months after we split and decided I was going to walk away from everything and start over."

"So she chose the other guy?"

"I don't really know. I hadn't heard from her, still haven't. Hell, I don't even know if it was the same guy or another one after moving on again. I just couldn't handle it all anymore so yeah, I guess I ran away."

"You still love her though, don't you?"

She had me there and I knew it. I had always known it. I fell in love with Kari after our first date many years ago and I never stopped loving her but the rub is she broke my heart and I took the cowards way out. I told Heidi that and she was wise in her response.

"Bartholomew, some day you might get that divorce decree in the mail all tidy and everything and you'll have to let it all go or maybe someday you'll show up back in her space and want answers to all your questions. Jesus, she might show up here to bring closure to it or maybe, just maybe, there isn't any closure to be had and she's waiting for you to come back to her."

I stopped her.

"I won't go back to her. I'm the aggrieved party here, Heidi."

Heidi reached over and caressed the side of my face.

"Kiddo, nobody knows how that is any more than I do. I'm just suggesting that you will want to get closure or resolution on everything someday. How and when that happens, who knows? But for now, I kind of like having you around to drink a beer with and God knows, as I found out last night, you are just plain fun to play with!"

So Heidi and I pretty much became a FWB thing after that and every week or so we'd knock a few down and jump bones. I learned that Heidi was 41 and Gail was 23. The two of them had been keeping a pretty open and liberal relationship between them since Gail was a teenager and her mother put her on the pill and rather than have her sneaking around she preached discretion and safe sex to her. Apparently our catching her having sex wasn't a first time thing between mother and daughter but from my perspective every time I saw Gail I immediately thought of that little pink pussy winking at me on the floor.

Over the next few months my writing workload began to grow with a couple additional columns added and an expanded syndication distribution. The cash flow had risen to around $5K a month and I was only using up around a third that for living expenses so life was getting comfortable. My response to the comfort was to 're-minimalize' things again.

I changed up my diet to see if I could sustain myself off of what I grew on my own along with the eggs and meat from my chickens and hens. I had to keep the internet connections for work and research but I dropped the satellite TV hookups and started peddling a mountain bike into the village every day instead of driving. In just a few weeks I felt better and I started sleeping like a log every night.

I wrote a column about the experience and a few weeks later the Washington Express Currier expressed an interest in running it in one of their Sunday issues. It was called 'Minimalizing Life Downeast - One Man's Journey'. I didn't write it for popularity but that became the result as several online sites 'republished' it with links to the on-line WEC article.

My email inbox was flooded with interest, many from women wanting to correspond and help me with my 'minimization' journey. I didn't give out my address in the article but the Winter Harbor Post Office started keeping a box for the excess mail that started coming in for me.

It's amazing how far the reach is of the WEC! I had women from Eastern Europe writing love letters to me sealed with abundant amounts of perfume. There were even marriage requests from three women in the Philippines. It all slowly dropped off after three months or so, all but for a hardcore group of admirers. A couple of them even showed up in the village looking for David Bartholomew Higgins or at least where he lived.

The folks at the Tavern all thought it was grand having a small celebrity pounding beers at their local establishment but I was pretty much relieved when it all died down. The best thing about the whole experience was that I started doing a blog that was receiving a lot of attention.

The 'Life & Living' sections of several newspapers started picking it up once in a while and I had a growing fan base to help ensure readership.

Out of force of habit and respect for the readers I always made it a point to read the combox discussions and respond when I felt appropriate. I've had some pretty interesting discussions as a result. One of those discussions began when I wrote an article about divorcees and shattered relationships here in the Downeast and how couples and individuals have adapted socially in our small communities. I didn't expose my heart in the article but I did share some of the angst and difficulties we have all had.