A Writer's Cabin: Part 1
A WRITER'S CABIN: PART 1.
RETREATING TO AN ISOLATED CABIN, A FAMOUS AUTHOR FINDS LOVE.
Based on a post by PickFiction [https://www.literotica.com/authors/PickFiction/works].
Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/it-happened-one-night_202404/AWritersCabin1.mp3] at Steamy
Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories].
[https://archive.org/download/it-happened-one-night_202404/AWritersCabin1.jpg]
"Dale, nice of you to drop in." Katherine's
sardonic smile told me how she really felt.
"I have an appointment."
"That hasn't always mattered in the past." I'd
missed one appointment in nearly a year, but Katherine loved to jab me with the
nits she picked.
"I suppose. You make bundles off me, though", I
retorted.
"So, that gives you the right to ignore appointments
and not even have the common courtesy to let me know."
I'd left my cell phone at a restaurant. "Listen, if you
want to drop me from your list of clients, we can work that out. You're getting
to be a pain in the ass to deal with, Katherine. Plus, this office of yours on
the forty-fourth floor is a pain. I get an upset stomach riding the
elevator." Being from New York and hating elevators did not meld well, but
somehow, I'd survived.
"My poor delicate author. Perhaps you should try the
stairs."
"Perhaps we should try some Zoom appointments." I
wondered why Katherine and I could never have a friction-free meeting. Maybe it
was our signs. I'm a Libra and I'd learned earlier that she was an Aries.
Silly, perhaps, but there was definitely something. I think we rather enjoyed
skirmishing with each other.
"Bars are kind of noisy for Zoom calls." She
objected.
"You don't know me at all, Katherine. I don't drink in
public -- oh, maybe a glass of wine at those idiotic things you schedule for
me."
"Those idiotic things sell your books."
I hated to admit that I needed to sell books. I wrote
because I loved it and seemed to have a certain talent for it. But I also
needed a roof over my head and food in my stomach. Therefore, I needed to sell
books, and Katherine was here to help me do just that. And, I had to admit that
she'd done a decent job. My bank account assured me of that.
"I suppose you're right." I relented.
"Let me mark this on my calendar. Dale Schultz agreed
with something I said." She scribbled something on her desk calendar.
"So why exactly did I have to ride the supersonic
elevator to see you today."
"I thought I told you that."
"You sent me an email that basically said, be there or
be square."
"I'm surprised you'd let a clich like that escape your
lips." She teased.
"Talking isn't writing. And some people like
clich s."
"On another subject, four chapters of the new book are
due today."
"They're only due because you arbitrarily decide
they're due. Sometimes fictional writing isn't done on a schedule."
"I thought a brilliant author like yourself could just
snap your fingers and magnificently amazing stories appeared on the computer
screen."
"Having never done it, I would expect you to think
that."
"What, that you're a brilliant author?"
"You have three of the chapters on the flash drive, and
the fourth is nearly complete. What's the rush?"
We want to get it published before the Christmas buying
season. People still like to purchase hard copies of books by famous
authors."
I was a moderately famous author, even though I didn't often
admit it to myself. It made selling books relatively simple, which I enjoyed.
But it made the public appearances and book signings that Katherine arranged;
the bane of my existence. I was not a public person, and traveling all
over the country was not enjoyable, and something needed to be done about it. I
wasn't sure what, just yet.
"I suppose you're right. Put another note on your
calendar there, for the mental slip of mine."
"What?" She perked up.
"I said, bane of my existence, another horrible
clich .
Katherine shrugged, but didn't make a note on her desk
calendar.
"Also, I have a check for you since you won't simplify
things by allowing direct deposits to your bank account."
"I'm old-fashioned, I guess. I hear about bad things
happening from that."
"Well, here's your preliminary check for the new
book."
I glanced at it long enough to see $100,000 on the amount
line. That would hold me for a while. This would be my fifth book, and the
first four had been nicely successful, so my bank account was well-stocked at
the present time, far beyond anything I'd imagined when I began writing. I
folded the check and stuck it in my pocket.
"And we need to review the schedule of personal
appearances and book signings I've set up for you."
It was only March, and we were shooting for a September
publish date. I couldn't sign books until they were published. Maybe I could
get COVID 19, or something and avoid all of that. Katherine had twelve events
lined up, some of which would get national attention and some that were small,
local events. I had insisted on the latter. I grew up in rural Pennsylvania
before we moved to New York, and we Pennsylvanians had always seemed to be
bypassed by everything big or important that happened. I wanted people in those
types of places to have access to signed copies of my books if they wanted
them.
"Those don't begin until October, so please don't
forget about them. I'll send emails to remind you."
"I think your emails go directly to my spam folder.
I'll have to check." I said in a deadpan delivery.
"You're impossible. If I didn't make gobs of money from
you, I'd dump you in a nanosecond."
"Same here, you know."
We bid each other goodbye, and I left her office. Walking
down the hall toward the elevator, I wondered what it might be like to descend
forty-four flights of stairs. I was getting hungry and decided I needed plenty
of nourishment before I attempted that, so I stopped at the elevator, as
always. We made several stops on the way down, which seemed to decrease our
peak velocity, and my stomach survived. I wondered if I could find an agent
whose office was on the ground floor. Probably not.
ZǏH O W NG'S CHINESE RESTAURANT.
It was an unusually warm March day, so I walked to Zǐh o
W ng's Chinese Restaurant rather than using a taxi or an Uber. Since I ate
there often, Mr. W ng wasn't surprised to see me.
"Some shrimp chow mein for famous author?" were
his words of greeting. That was my favorite of the restaurant's offerings, although
their menu covered three pages.
"That sounds good, Zǐh o, but keep the shrimp and
change the other to fried rice."
"Hot tea and wonton soup?" He offered.
It was lunchtime, but I could make it my dinner.
"Of course," I answered, nodding to him and receiving
his nod in return.
I checked my phone and had several text messages. I'd
changed my number several times, but somehow, people discovered what it was and
would send me unwanted texts. They weren't spam or scams, just people talking
about my writing. I read several of them since I had nothing else to do, but I
stashed the phone when the wonton soup arrived. Mr. W ng served me personally
and sat down as he usually did.
"How is wonton soup today? Breaking in new cook and
would like opinion."
"Zǐh o, your wonton is always excellent, and this
is no different. Some wonton is more water than anything else, but yours is
solid and nourishing."
"Will inform new cook. Will Mr. Dale be wanting take
home today?"
"Your food and my microwave seem to get along well, so
perhaps the shrimp chow mein would be good."
"Will have, when finish. You good customer, Mr.
Dale."
"That's because you're a good cook. I didn't have much
Chinese until I came to New York, but I'm glad my parents found your
restaurant. And," I said, winking at him, "I've included it in my new
book. Characters in the book will be eating here."
"Mr. Dale, many thanks. For kindness, today is on
me."
I bowed my head to him. "The many thanks is for you, Zǐh o.
But I insist on paying."
I knew from experience that when people saw the name of the
restaurant in the book, they'd come here to eat, and Zǐh o would be very
busy. It made me happy to be able to do that for him, as he always took very
good care of me. I saw someone from the kitchen headed for my table.
Zǐh o took the sack and handed it to me. "Chow
mein for dinner," he said with a smile.
"Tell me something, Zǐh o. Do you like New York,
the big city?"
"I born in Foshan in China and live there till I come
here. I think population there is nine million. So, I used to big city. Is
important to me as I feel strange when not in big city. You from big city too,
Mr. Dale?"
"No, no, I'm not. I come from a small town, and I feel
out of place somehow."
"But you famous author. Is important to be in big city
for you, isn't it."
I chuckled. "It's easier sometimes, and I suppose
important for some things, but it's also annoying most of the time."
"Have friends in China who say same thing about
Foshan."
"It's what you get used to, I guess." I grumbled.
"New York big, but not Foshan."
"I think I know what you mean, Zǐh o.
I paid him for both meals and included a nice tip, which I
knew he'd divide among his servers.
I left Zǐh o's and walked back to my apartment, which
was on the fourth floor and not the forty-forth. I let my mind wander, trying
to concentrate on creating a new chapter for the book. But it was difficult
with loud diesel buses, emergency sirens, and just the noise and bustle of a
big city.
I rode the slow-motion elevator to the fourth floor.
Although I could certainly have afforded a nicer place, I was content with the
one-bedroom cubby which I inhabited. As I was approaching my door, I heard
someone calling to me.
"Hey, Dale. How's it going, neighbor?"
"Hey, Zach. Not too bad for a March day, and after a
trip to the forty-fourth floor."
"Uh-oh, that again. How's your stomach?" he asked
with a little laugh.
"We made lots of stops, so it wasn't too bad. I stopped
at Zǐh o's and had some fried rice and brought some chow mein home."
I held up the bag with the familiar emblem on the side.
"We need to go there. It's been a while, and Talia
loves Cashew Chicken."
"That's good stuff. I have it every once in a
while."
"Got the book finished?"
"Nearly. A couple more chapters."
"I'm sure you'll be relieved, and the money will be
rolling in."
"I suppose. I'm just anxious to get started on the next
book."
"Dale, you need to slow down and enjoy the fruits of
your labor, whatever they might be. I know that money isn't the big motivation
for you, but still, savor all that adulation you receive."
I laughed. "All of that adulation is a pain in the ass,
and I could do without it. Book signings and being on The Morning Mirror. And
all of that other good stuff, i.e. crap."
I always sensed that it was good stuff, in its own way, but
not particularly for me. It was awkward, and the questions they asked were
always frivolous and not something that I particularly cared about. I enjoyed
sometimes talking about the process of creating and then writing a story, but
I'd been told that most listeners found that boring after about thirty seconds
of it. They wanted sensational things, like who I was currently sleeping with
or what woman I was chasing, things like that. Most of my time on the show
seemed to be spent denying rumors as no one seemed to believe that I was a
boring guy, content to eat, sleep, and write my books.
'I feel very awkward on that show and others that have had
me. People think that if you're famous, you should fit into a particular mold,
and I don't."
"I can see that about you for sure."
"But, what the heck are you doing home, Zach? Shouldn't
you be working?"
"Yeah, but Talia was sick this morning, and she needed
help getting to the doctor, so I took a day of vacation."
"Aw, I'm sorry about that. How's she doing?"
"Much better. The doc said it was probably something
she ate, so It's not contagious, thank goodness."
"May I stick my head in to wish her well."
"Let me make sure she's decent." He disappeared
for a moment. "Come on in, Dale."
"Hey, Talia, how are you feeling?"
"Better, but that doesn't mean good."
"Aw, sorry."
"I should be okay tomorrow."
I thought she looked pale enough that tomorrow might not do
it."
"So, are you still thinking about what we talked about
the other day?" Zack gestured for me to have a seat.
I plopped into a lounger. It had been in and out of my mind
all day, from my time with Katherine through my lunch with Zǐh o, to now.
"I have, but it's a tough decision."
"Talia and I would hate to lose a good neighbor, but
don't let that influence you." Zack looked at the ceiling as he spoke,
unsuccessfully stifling a smile.
"I'd hate that too, but that's only one issue. I could
go back to Pennsylvania, but for some reason, I'm hesitant to do that."
"Lots of big hills in P A, but I'm from Ohio, and the
climate is similar, but more variation in the topography."
"I like hills, but big hills and snow don't always mix
well."
"Take a look at Ohio. And take a look at Caraway Hills
in the south-central area. Kind of an older area with rolling hills and lots of
nice cabins and cottages."
"Listen, thanks for the information. I've got some work
to do, so I'll leave you two alone. Talia, get well, please."
"Thanks, Dale. I hope so," Talia said, rather
weakly, I thought.
In my room, I sat at my writing desk, opened my laptop, and
searched for Caraway Hills, Ohio. I found two real estate companies that had
listings there and saw some very nice cottages, cabins, and luxury homes. I
chuckled at the luxury homes. What I had in mind was something like my New York
apartment, something simple but adequate.
I didn't want a fixer-upper since I wasn't very handy. I
could paint and probably drive a nail, but hanging things on the wall might be
a challenge. I was certain there would be videos on the internet to help if I
needed them.
As I paged through the cabins, carefully checking details, I
knew that I had made my decision without realizing it. I was going to move to
Ohio, much to Katherine's chagrin, I was sure. I needed to finish the last two
chapters and get the process started.
"You made quick work of those last two chapters,"
Katherine said, peering at me over the top of her glasses. "I hope they
measure up to the rest of the book."
"I'm sure you can touch them up if they don't."
"I'm your agent, not your editor."
"I must have forgotten. Sorry."
"Yeah, right. Do you have an outline for your next book
yet?"
"This one isn't even published yet."
"And speaking of that, I'll email your appearance
schedule so you can finalize your plans. "
"Speaking of plans, I've already finalized one."
That got her attention. "Oh?"
"Yes. I'm moving to Ohio." I said it as
matter-of-factly as I could.
"Like that's going to happen," she replied with a
laugh.
I didn't respond.
Katherine looked up from her computer. "You are teasing
me, aren't you?"
"Nope, I made the decision two days ago. We'll soon be
Zooming."
"Dale, why would you do a silly thing like that? It
makes no sense."
"To you, perhaps."
"To anyone with common sense."
"That leaves me out then, I guess."
"Dale, I'm sensing that you're serious about this. Is
there no way to talk you out of it?"
"Don't even try. I'll be off to Ohio next week to find
a place to live. And it won't be on the forty-fourth floor, or even the fourth
floor."
I ended my time with Katherine and made what I hoped would
be my final descent on that miserable elevator. I'd never gotten a chance to
try the stairs.
THE OHIO VALLEY.
The drive to Ohio was smooth and uneventful but was over
five hundred miles and took nine-plus hours. I'd booked a motel room near
Caraway Hills, actually on the edge of Caraway, a small town near the Hills. I
checked in and then went out and grabbed some dinner at a quaint mom-and-pop
diner. The food was delicious, and I think I had a smile on my face the entire
time I was there. Back at the motel, I made some notes regarding a possible new
story and then went to sleep.
The following morning, I was ready to go and anxious as
well. I'd called ahead to the realty company and talked with Brooke Row, the
owner, who said she'd be ready to show me several possibilities. I stopped at
the diner for breakfast, and was taken in again by the good home cooking.
I made it to the Realty company at nine and was greeted by
Brooke. I'd never spent much time around women as they tended to distract me
from my writing. When I came through the door, a quick glance told me that she
was attractive. When she looked at me, I nearly froze. Her dark hair contrasted
sharply with her very pale blue eyes. She was the living personification of one
of the favorite characters I had created. Not a very pleasant character,
unfortunately, but one I enjoyed writing about. I decided not to mention it, as
I wasn't anxious for people to know I was a writer.
"Mr. Schultz, it's so good to meet you after our
messaging. And please call me Brooke."
"I'm just Dale, and I'm anxious to see what you've
picked out for me."
"Tell me again exactly what you're looking for."
"I'm really looking for something simple, maybe one
bedroom, a decent living area, and some space between me and the
neighbors."
"Actually, there aren't many one-bedroom places
available. I'm not sure what your occupation is, but a second bedroom could be
transformed into a very nice office."
"Good point. I probably could use an office." I
didn't volunteer what it would be used for, and she didn't ask.
"Okay, why don't I go with a two-bedroom, then? It
would cost a little more, but there are plenty of those available."
"Yeah, that's good. I'm not worried about a few more
dollars."
"How about amenities? Would you like a pool?"
"No, I don't need a pool for sure."
"Hot tub?"
That one made me think. I'd been in a few hot tubs, and they
were nice.
"It wouldn't be inside the house, would it?"
Brooke chuckled. "Oh no, it would be on the porch or
beside the cabin."
My turn to chuckle. Yeah, I guess all that steam inside the
cabin wouldn't be good."
She nodded but didn't reply.
"It sounds like you're looking for a fairly basic cabin.
Is that a fair description of what you're after?"
"I think so. I mean, I don't want peeling paint, or
floorboards that you can fall through."
"I get the picture, Mr., uh, Dale. What about
land?"
"I'd like for it to be on land." I kept as
straight a face as possible.
Her head snapped up from looking at her notebook. I had that
innocent look on my face.
"I'll make a note of that. Mr. Schultz does not want a
cabin-boat." I enjoyed that she was smiling.
Her easy manner told me we were going to get along fine searching
for a cabin.
"I don't want any close neighbors, so if that takes a
little more land, that's fine. I'm from New York City, and Central Park was the
only view of land that I had."
"Ah, that helps. Are you good at math and
visualization?"
"No, and
