It was at that moment that I remembered I was nude. First he looked into my eyes, then scanned my body. I moved my gaze from his torso to his face and realized he was looking at me.
He was hairless and his skin was colored a light shade of cherry. His naked chest was strong and smooth, covered in a glistening sheen of perspiration. Apparently, he had been working so hard that his shirt was now a nuisance. I looked up and saw the wood-man bare-chested. These pro-whaling nations claimed they could do so in sustainable numbers, while most of the rest in the international community insisted that there was not enough science to know whether or not sustainable whaling was possible. They had convened an international conference of some sort to determine whether Japan and other pro-whaling nations, such as Norway, should be allowed to kill whales. I went back to reading my article about the Japanese pleas for whaling. To use the word ‘adonis’ in a sentence here would not be inappropriate. Now wearing only a tight black tank-top, I noticed his chiseled muscles and his very smooth skin. He began to unload the wood, stacking it neatly against the cabin, and he soon became warm enough to take off his jacket.
Behind him, he pulled a sled full of wood. His jaw was sculpted and he wore a thick mustache. He was about 6’3", with a long mane of dirty blond hair. I guessed him to be the man who would bring the wood, and about his appearance Amy seemed to be correct. I looked out my clouded window and saw a man. Just then I heard the rhythmic ripping sound of someone walking through the snow. It was a very interesting article, and I looked forward to reading it all. What did they know that we didn’t, I wondered. Japan was clearly concerned about the whales. They want to take 150 Bryde’s whales a year between 20, and 150 minke whales this year. It seems that Japan has wanted for some time to resume its practice of hunting whales. That first Sunday, I retrieved the newspaper and began reading an article about whaling. She told me that he was a very striking looking man. I could sit on my deck in the mornings and see the lake through the trees’ straight trunks.Īmy had told me that once a week, there would be a man who would come to deliver wood. There were pines everywhere around the cabin, and beyond the pines, there was a lake to the east. In the mornings I would get up with the sound of woodpeckers at work. The cabin was owned by former first daughter Amy Carter, who had grown up awkwardly before our nation’s eyes. A few years ago I spent a month in a cabin in Montana, my dog Curly as my only companion.