Sondra chose the bedroom with the window that looked out toward the clearing and the big house beyond the pond. Maris was indifferent and went to the other bedroom and immediately to bed. Her window looked out into the forest that surrounded the clearing. Sondra showered quickly before she went to bed. The mattress was very comfortable, and before she fell asleep, she wondered about the days to follow. Truman Garrison was a brilliant tycoon. His holdings included theatres, movie studios, transportation companies and millions of acres of real estate. Some of the billionaire’s property was in the hearts of major cities, and some of it was in remote areas: ranches in Montana and northern forests like this one where he lived in New England.
Sondra couldn’t imagine why the reclusive Truman Garrison would grant an interview of any kind, and especially to a junior journalist who does human-interest features for a small television station. She assumed the beautiful native woman, Rainbird, was the household manager, housekeeper, cook, and faithful retainer to her employer. And her son must be the groundskeeper or some sort of role like that in the compound-like property where Sondra found herself. She began dreaming about Darkwater. She had seen him for only a minute or so, but in that brief, busy moment, she saw in that young man all the attributes she always knew she needed to be happy with a lover in a monogamous relationship. There was one thing wrong with the fantasy… Darkwater was obviously several years younger than she was.
She reminded herself that her fantasies can be crafted to suit every detail of her own wishes, and it didn’t matter who her lover might be, what his age is, what race he might be, what his size might be, she could make it the way she wanted it. It’s just a fantasy, and it’s her fantasy. Comfortable with this state of mind, she fell asleep.