I.
On her next return to his side of the pool, Katherine paused at the height of her turn, hanging onto the side of the pool and gazing up at him with smiling face.
“Are you coming in, then?” she asked.
“Yes, of course.”
Anton briefly considered diving in, using his best form, then decided against it and just slipped in to the water, thankful as ever that the temperature was kept nice and warm.
“I haven’t seen you here this late before,” Anton ventured.
“I thought I would try it,” Katherine said. “And it is restful, swimming here all alone. Just you and the water and your laps.”
“That’s the way I’ve always found it,” Anton agreed.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m here, disturbing your solitude.”
“Not at all,” Anton said quickly.
“Good. C’mon, I’ll race you.”
II.
When they’d completed their workout, Anton and Katherine relaxed at the shallow end of the pool.
“Would you like to go out for a juice drink?” asked Anton. (They were in training, and eschewed all alcohol.)
“Sure,” said Katherine.
The Barlow Juice Bar was a popular hangout for the athletes in training for the Olympic tryouts. Even late at night, athletes were there, sipping one of a variety of all-natural fruit juices and either surfing the web on laptop computers, or chatting with each other.
Anton and Katherine took their glasses and went to a back corner booth.
By the end of the evening, they were fast friends, having discovering a mutual liking for animated movies (both of them chose the Toy Story trilogy as the greatest movies of all time), a desire to scuba dive the most famous dive sites of the world, and of course, the ambition to be Olympic champions.
III.
A couple of months later, they were halfway through their midnight workout when Katherine swam out of her lane and into Anton’s.
“How’s your breath control?” she murmured as she side-stroked beside him.
“Uh…it’s great. Why?”
“Well, I was thinking…have you ever made love…in the water?”
“I never have…I won’t say I haven’t thought of it, though.”
“Would you like to do it…now?”
“I’d be delighted,” he said.
He wiggled out of his swimming trunks, and Katherine shed hers.
“So,” murmured Anton, “are you ready?”
“Oh, yeah,” Katherine murmured back.
To be continued on the 28th.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
10. Stacy's Erotica: Anton and the Mermaid, Take Two
That night after returning home, Stacy fired up her laptop and took a look at the first chapter she’d written for her new story, Anton and the Mermaid.
She’d had the idea to do it as a science fiction story, but she was thinking now that she would tell it in a more realistic vein…something to inspire people. Two people – real people – fighting to save the oceans, instead of a mermaid and a man-turned-merman due to the magic of mermaid breath…
She tapped the keys of the keyboard idly as she marshaled thoughts in her head, and then began.
Anton and the Mermaid
Stacy nodded to herself. This was much better. She went and got a Pepsi, and then continued on with the story.
[Which will continue here, tomorrow.]
______
Note to my loyal readers: Most of the installments in this "three romances-with-occasional-erotica serial fiction" have averaged 1,000 words or more. For the next week and a half or so, the story will progress in installments of between 200 - 500 words. I'm about to start a cross country road-trip with an elderly, infirm relative, and while I'm hoping it's not going to be the trip from hell...I know it will be. The story will be updated every day, never fear, it just won't progress as fast as usual. The 1000+ word installmetns will resume around October 1.Thanks for reading, hope you're enjoying it.And please send vibes my way that the trip goes well!
She’d had the idea to do it as a science fiction story, but she was thinking now that she would tell it in a more realistic vein…something to inspire people. Two people – real people – fighting to save the oceans, instead of a mermaid and a man-turned-merman due to the magic of mermaid breath…
She tapped the keys of the keyboard idly as she marshaled thoughts in her head, and then began.
Anton and the Mermaid
Anton Weaver stood on the deck of the swimming pool, gazing through the crystal clear water to the bottom of the pool, several meters below. It was an Olympic-sized pool – twice the size of pools that the average person swam in at their high school or outdoor park.
It was late at night, and everyone else – Olympic class swimmers all – had left the pool, til only he had remained.
But no, there was still someone else in the pool. Katherine. She was a great swimmer. Her long body cleaved the water like a mermaid, arms and legs moving in effortless rhythm.
They’d existed in an uneasy silence for three weeks, ever since she’d entered the program. He had always been very conscious of her, and whenever he looked her way, she always seemed to always be just looking away from him. Which begged the age-old question – did she like him, or didn’t she? Was she just too shy to approach him, or was she not interested in him at all?
That was the thing, of course. Girls didn’t get interested in him at first sight. They had to get to know him first – at least, the two girlfriends he’d had to date. And they’d gotten to know him and fallen in love…and then they’d gotten to know him some more and fallen *out of love. That had hurt….
But he hadn't shared more than 10 words a day with her, in all this time.
And she was beautiful. She could probably have any guy she wanted. Yet she seemed to keep to herself…pleasant enough with the rest of the people on the swim team, but not one to socialize out of hours.
And yet here she was alone, at the pool. He was the one who always stayed late at night to swim more laps. Everyone knew about it – they teased him about it. So she must have known that he’d be here tonight. And yet here she was, effortlessly performing turns at the end of each lap and continuing on, like a machine, using a different stroke for each lap - front stroke, side stroke, back stroke, butterfly...she looked like a mermaid, so easily did she move through the water.
Stacy nodded to herself. This was much better. She went and got a Pepsi, and then continued on with the story.
[Which will continue here, tomorrow.]
______
Note to my loyal readers: Most of the installments in this "three romances-with-occasional-erotica serial fiction" have averaged 1,000 words or more. For the next week and a half or so, the story will progress in installments of between 200 - 500 words. I'm about to start a cross country road-trip with an elderly, infirm relative, and while I'm hoping it's not going to be the trip from hell...I know it will be. The story will be updated every day, never fear, it just won't progress as fast as usual. The 1000+ word installmetns will resume around October 1.Thanks for reading, hope you're enjoying it.And please send vibes my way that the trip goes well!
Thursday, September 23, 2010
9. Stacy: To Have and Have Not at The Compleat Angler Hotel
Stacy ran an eye through the one sheet folded over that served as the program for the play. The playwright’s name was listed as Kenneth Decker.
Well, Ken, she thought. Impress me.
As the production of the play, To Have and Have Not at the Compleat Angler Hotel, unfolded, Stacy found herself growing more and more depressed. Not because the play was bad, but because it was good, in ways she hadn’t expected. It dealt with the trials and tribulations of the creative act – Hemingway’s struggle to write a novel that he didn’t want to write, his attempts to write one that he did want to write but couldn’t because of his inability to find the right words, all set against a background of sunshine, beaches, and deep sea fishing.
She found her own writing struggles mirrored in the actions of the Hemingway character….
“It resonated with me,” she told Decker after the performance, as some of the audience members remained behind to mingle with the actors. True to form, most of them clustered around the Hemingway character, while she had been the only one to seek out the playwright – who had put the words in the actor’s mouth, after all.
“You’re a playwright, too?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ve got plots and even scenes written for a half a dozen plays, but I’ve never had the stick-to-it-tiveness to actually sit down and get one finished. I start on one…it goes great guns…then I run out of steam and start on another…then I go off playwriting for a while and work on a short story…never finishing anything.”
“Sounds like you have a fear of rejection.” Ken said. “If you never finish anything, you never have to send it off to an editor or agent, who can never read it, and can therefore never tell you it isn’t any good.”
“Yeah,” said Stacy sadly. She’d always thought she was just a perfectionist who wanted everything to be perfect and knew that her skills were such that she couldn’t achieve that perfection…but maybe subconsciously, she was just telling herself that, because she didn’t want to face the possibility of her work being rejected.
Stacy looked up and caught sight of her parents and Chelsea, standing at the door, ready to leave.
“I’ve got to go,” she told Ken, hurriedly. “I’d love to continue talking to you about your play…”
He dug into his costume, and pulled out a business card.
“Call me anytime,” he said. He looked deeply into her eyes. “Really.”
She smiled at him, pocketed the card, and hurried after her parents.
Well, Ken, she thought. Impress me.
As the production of the play, To Have and Have Not at the Compleat Angler Hotel, unfolded, Stacy found herself growing more and more depressed. Not because the play was bad, but because it was good, in ways she hadn’t expected. It dealt with the trials and tribulations of the creative act – Hemingway’s struggle to write a novel that he didn’t want to write, his attempts to write one that he did want to write but couldn’t because of his inability to find the right words, all set against a background of sunshine, beaches, and deep sea fishing.
She found her own writing struggles mirrored in the actions of the Hemingway character….
“It resonated with me,” she told Decker after the performance, as some of the audience members remained behind to mingle with the actors. True to form, most of them clustered around the Hemingway character, while she had been the only one to seek out the playwright – who had put the words in the actor’s mouth, after all.
“You’re a playwright, too?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ve got plots and even scenes written for a half a dozen plays, but I’ve never had the stick-to-it-tiveness to actually sit down and get one finished. I start on one…it goes great guns…then I run out of steam and start on another…then I go off playwriting for a while and work on a short story…never finishing anything.”
“Sounds like you have a fear of rejection.” Ken said. “If you never finish anything, you never have to send it off to an editor or agent, who can never read it, and can therefore never tell you it isn’t any good.”
“Yeah,” said Stacy sadly. She’d always thought she was just a perfectionist who wanted everything to be perfect and knew that her skills were such that she couldn’t achieve that perfection…but maybe subconsciously, she was just telling herself that, because she didn’t want to face the possibility of her work being rejected.
Stacy looked up and caught sight of her parents and Chelsea, standing at the door, ready to leave.
“I’ve got to go,” she told Ken, hurriedly. “I’d love to continue talking to you about your play…”
He dug into his costume, and pulled out a business card.
“Call me anytime,” he said. He looked deeply into her eyes. “Really.”
She smiled at him, pocketed the card, and hurried after her parents.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
8. Stacy: To Have and Have Not - the Prelude
I.
While Chelsea and Robert Wade were diving at their second site of the day, Stacy completed the first chapter of her short story (published as Chapter 6: Anton and the Mermaid).
When her passengers returned, she piloted them back toward the Bimini harbor.
“I was wondering,” said Robert, “I’d like to see the Sapona tomorrow. Can you take me there?”
“Delighted,” said Chelsea. “Shall we say, ten o’clock?”
“Sounds good.”
Chelsea nodded, and started to turn away, when something about Wade’s stance puzzled her. “Was there something else?” she asked.
“I…uh..the Red Rum..”
Chelsea waved a hand and grinned. “Don’t worry about it. No Red Rum for me tonight.”
“Very good,” said Wade shortly. “Thanks.” And he spun on his heel and walked away.
Chelsea stared after him for a second, then turned, shaking her head, and jumped back on the Scylla. “Jerk,” she said beneath her breath.
Stacy had finished re-filling the air tanks, and stowed them away.
“We’re taking him out tomorrow, too,” Chelsea said. “The Sapona.”
“You said that a bit briskly,” said Stacy. “What’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Chelsea. “Guy’s a bit…weird, that’s all.”
“Weird?”
“Oh, when I was in the bar last night, he made some crack about my drinking. And he just did it again.”
“You’re kidding!” said Stacy. “You don’t drink.”
“Not the way he seems to think I do, anyway. It’s just annoying.”
“Well, but he’s still going diving with you, so he can’t be too worried about it.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Still, it’s annoying. Just for that, I am going to go the Red Rum tonight, and I’ll have a beer in his honor. Want to come along?”
“Why don’t we skip the Red Rum tonight, and zip over to Paradise Island, instead. There’s a production of To Have and Have Not at The Compleat Angler Hotel that I want to see.
“Ugh…sounds dry. I never liked that book.”
“No, it’s not a play of the book. It’s a play about Hemingway writing the book at the hotel.”
“Oh, well that sounds much better,” Chelsea said without enthusiasm. “Tell you what, let’s see if Mom and Dad want to go.”
II.
Tourists came to Paradise Island for the scuba diving or the sport fishing. If they weren’t interested in outdoor sport, they went to the Aquarius casino. Those people too intelligent to gamble went to nightclubs, or, if they were looking for a bit of culture, attended the productions of the island’s local amateur theatre group.
Because the production was being put on by an amateur theatre group, innovative methods were used to make sure the audience had a good time. One of these was to have the actors, clad in full costume, act as ticket takers at the doors, as well as hover around in the lobby ready to answer any questions any of the theatre goers might have.
The Sutton family arrived at the theater in good time. There were plenty of tickets still available, so that they were able to get center seats in the fifth row.
“Aren’t you coming in, dear?” asked Stacy’s mother, they headed from the lobby into the auditorium, handing their tickets over to Ernest Hemingway.
“You go ahead, mom. I want to look at these photos some more.”
Chelsea, and their parents – Kay and Charles – went into the auditorium and settled down into their chairs.
Stacy remained in the lobby. Arranged on the walls were photos of the actors in the production – publicity head shots, as well as photos of action in the play. Stacy walked from one to the other, looking at them with interest.
As she turned away from the final photo on the wall, her eyes met those of a nervous-looking man dressed in 1930s garb.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he squeaked.
“I don’t see your photo on the wall. Who are you playing?”
“I’m not. I…I wrote the play.”
“How cool,” said Stacy. “I’m looking forward to seeing it.”
“I hope you like it.”
Stacy, an aspiring playwright herself (as well as an aspiring movie-wright, shortstory-wright and novelist) said with a warm smile, “I’m sure I will.”
He gave another nervous smile.
“This has been on for two weeks, hasn’t it?” Stacy asked.
“Oh, yes. And played to houses a third-full each night. But heck, that’s the best we ever do here, anyway, so I’m not downhearted by that. No…I’m just always nervous before the play starts. Some actors get stage fright…I get….”
“Production fright?”
He grinned. “Yeah.”
“Well, I came with my family, so I’d better go join them. Are you going to be around after the show is over?”
“Yes, we all will be. Me and all the actors.”
“Well, maybe I’ll see you then.”
“Yeah,” he said, as she nodded at him and headed into the auditorium.
Well, hell, she thought, as she made her way to her seat. This play had better be good.
While Chelsea and Robert Wade were diving at their second site of the day, Stacy completed the first chapter of her short story (published as Chapter 6: Anton and the Mermaid).
When her passengers returned, she piloted them back toward the Bimini harbor.
“I was wondering,” said Robert, “I’d like to see the Sapona tomorrow. Can you take me there?”
“Delighted,” said Chelsea. “Shall we say, ten o’clock?”
“Sounds good.”
Chelsea nodded, and started to turn away, when something about Wade’s stance puzzled her. “Was there something else?” she asked.
“I…uh..the Red Rum..”
Chelsea waved a hand and grinned. “Don’t worry about it. No Red Rum for me tonight.”
“Very good,” said Wade shortly. “Thanks.” And he spun on his heel and walked away.
Chelsea stared after him for a second, then turned, shaking her head, and jumped back on the Scylla. “Jerk,” she said beneath her breath.
Stacy had finished re-filling the air tanks, and stowed them away.
“We’re taking him out tomorrow, too,” Chelsea said. “The Sapona.”
“You said that a bit briskly,” said Stacy. “What’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Chelsea. “Guy’s a bit…weird, that’s all.”
“Weird?”
“Oh, when I was in the bar last night, he made some crack about my drinking. And he just did it again.”
“You’re kidding!” said Stacy. “You don’t drink.”
“Not the way he seems to think I do, anyway. It’s just annoying.”
“Well, but he’s still going diving with you, so he can’t be too worried about it.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Still, it’s annoying. Just for that, I am going to go the Red Rum tonight, and I’ll have a beer in his honor. Want to come along?”
“Why don’t we skip the Red Rum tonight, and zip over to Paradise Island, instead. There’s a production of To Have and Have Not at The Compleat Angler Hotel that I want to see.
“Ugh…sounds dry. I never liked that book.”
“No, it’s not a play of the book. It’s a play about Hemingway writing the book at the hotel.”
“Oh, well that sounds much better,” Chelsea said without enthusiasm. “Tell you what, let’s see if Mom and Dad want to go.”
II.
Tourists came to Paradise Island for the scuba diving or the sport fishing. If they weren’t interested in outdoor sport, they went to the Aquarius casino. Those people too intelligent to gamble went to nightclubs, or, if they were looking for a bit of culture, attended the productions of the island’s local amateur theatre group.
Because the production was being put on by an amateur theatre group, innovative methods were used to make sure the audience had a good time. One of these was to have the actors, clad in full costume, act as ticket takers at the doors, as well as hover around in the lobby ready to answer any questions any of the theatre goers might have.
The Sutton family arrived at the theater in good time. There were plenty of tickets still available, so that they were able to get center seats in the fifth row.
“Aren’t you coming in, dear?” asked Stacy’s mother, they headed from the lobby into the auditorium, handing their tickets over to Ernest Hemingway.
“You go ahead, mom. I want to look at these photos some more.”
Chelsea, and their parents – Kay and Charles – went into the auditorium and settled down into their chairs.
Stacy remained in the lobby. Arranged on the walls were photos of the actors in the production – publicity head shots, as well as photos of action in the play. Stacy walked from one to the other, looking at them with interest.
As she turned away from the final photo on the wall, her eyes met those of a nervous-looking man dressed in 1930s garb.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he squeaked.
“I don’t see your photo on the wall. Who are you playing?”
“I’m not. I…I wrote the play.”
“How cool,” said Stacy. “I’m looking forward to seeing it.”
“I hope you like it.”
Stacy, an aspiring playwright herself (as well as an aspiring movie-wright, shortstory-wright and novelist) said with a warm smile, “I’m sure I will.”
He gave another nervous smile.
“This has been on for two weeks, hasn’t it?” Stacy asked.
“Oh, yes. And played to houses a third-full each night. But heck, that’s the best we ever do here, anyway, so I’m not downhearted by that. No…I’m just always nervous before the play starts. Some actors get stage fright…I get….”
“Production fright?”
He grinned. “Yeah.”
“Well, I came with my family, so I’d better go join them. Are you going to be around after the show is over?”
“Yes, we all will be. Me and all the actors.”
“Well, maybe I’ll see you then.”
“Yeah,” he said, as she nodded at him and headed into the auditorium.
Well, hell, she thought, as she made her way to her seat. This play had better be good.
Friday, September 17, 2010
7. Chelsea: Diving the Bimini Road
I.
Jacques Cousteau once wrote a book called The Silent Sea. Chelsea had always wondered why he chose that inaccurate title – the seas are full of noise, especially if you’re a scuba diver. The scuba diver is always surrounded by the sound of bubbles escaping to the surface.
But in all other ways, swimming underwater was as peaceful and as beautiful as one could imagine, especially in the waters off Bimini. The visibility was 100 feet – a 100 feet. And they were surrounded by colorful fish - beautiful fish. And there…there was the Bimini Road.
Like a good buddy – or client – Robert Wade was right at her side. She pointed toward the Road, he nodded and they swam towards it together.
Chelsea watched Wade as he flippered along, using a frog kick so as not to stir up any sediment as he seemingly scanned the Road inch by inch.
For a newbie, he was doing quite well. Of course, diving down to 15 feet was not all that difficult, but he was swimming around quite calmly. She could tell by the rate of the bubbles heading to the surface that he wasn’t gulping air, and he was maintaining his buoyancy with ease. He was obviously a natural diver – or he’d been well-instructed – or both.
Despite its name, the Bimini Road extended only 50 meters (90 feet) before coming to an abrupt end. Once they’d swam from end to end, Chelsea gestured for Wade to follow her, and she took him to the first of the two supplementary roads, a bit closer to the coast.
Suddenly, a pod of spotted dolphins appeared. For several minutes they cavorted nearby, swimming past the human beings in their domain and watching them to see if they enjoyed the show being put on for their benefit. Chelsea looked at Wade and he looked back at her. She could tell that he was delighted by the experience and delighted that he was sharing this experience with her.
Back on the Scylla and Charybdis, Wade said, “Damn, I wish I’d thought to bring a camera. I would have loved to get photos of that pod.”
Chelsea hid a grimace. She actually had a couple of underwater cameras on board the Scylla. It just hadn’t occurred to her to bring one of them down under. After all, she’d dove these waters for years, and had plenty of photos of the dolphins and other aquatic life around Bimini. Not to mention the shipwrecks…such as they were. But of course her clients would find all of this new to them.
Note to self, she told herself, Never dive without a camera.
“I’m sorry,” she told Wade. “We’ve got cameras on board here. I should have brought one down. Well, shall we go down again and take some photos of the Road?”
“Yes, please.”
Chelsea brought out one of the cameras, and showed Wade how to handle it. Then, after rehydrating, they put fresh scuba tanks on their backs and returned to the ocean.
II.
I like her, Robert Wade thought to himself. And she is an excellent dive guide. Very thorough. Oh, a slight mistake with the camera, but she owned up to it and corrected the problem. I…I think I’ll ask her to take me to the SS Sapona tomorrow.
I….I wonder…I think I’ll ask her out for a drink tonight. Supposedly, after you have a drink, you’re supposed to lose all your inhibitions and be able to talk to people…I think I’ll try it.
Jacques Cousteau once wrote a book called The Silent Sea. Chelsea had always wondered why he chose that inaccurate title – the seas are full of noise, especially if you’re a scuba diver. The scuba diver is always surrounded by the sound of bubbles escaping to the surface.
But in all other ways, swimming underwater was as peaceful and as beautiful as one could imagine, especially in the waters off Bimini. The visibility was 100 feet – a 100 feet. And they were surrounded by colorful fish - beautiful fish. And there…there was the Bimini Road.
Like a good buddy – or client – Robert Wade was right at her side. She pointed toward the Road, he nodded and they swam towards it together.
Chelsea watched Wade as he flippered along, using a frog kick so as not to stir up any sediment as he seemingly scanned the Road inch by inch.
For a newbie, he was doing quite well. Of course, diving down to 15 feet was not all that difficult, but he was swimming around quite calmly. She could tell by the rate of the bubbles heading to the surface that he wasn’t gulping air, and he was maintaining his buoyancy with ease. He was obviously a natural diver – or he’d been well-instructed – or both.
Despite its name, the Bimini Road extended only 50 meters (90 feet) before coming to an abrupt end. Once they’d swam from end to end, Chelsea gestured for Wade to follow her, and she took him to the first of the two supplementary roads, a bit closer to the coast.
Suddenly, a pod of spotted dolphins appeared. For several minutes they cavorted nearby, swimming past the human beings in their domain and watching them to see if they enjoyed the show being put on for their benefit. Chelsea looked at Wade and he looked back at her. She could tell that he was delighted by the experience and delighted that he was sharing this experience with her.
Back on the Scylla and Charybdis, Wade said, “Damn, I wish I’d thought to bring a camera. I would have loved to get photos of that pod.”
Chelsea hid a grimace. She actually had a couple of underwater cameras on board the Scylla. It just hadn’t occurred to her to bring one of them down under. After all, she’d dove these waters for years, and had plenty of photos of the dolphins and other aquatic life around Bimini. Not to mention the shipwrecks…such as they were. But of course her clients would find all of this new to them.
Note to self, she told herself, Never dive without a camera.
“I’m sorry,” she told Wade. “We’ve got cameras on board here. I should have brought one down. Well, shall we go down again and take some photos of the Road?”
“Yes, please.”
Chelsea brought out one of the cameras, and showed Wade how to handle it. Then, after rehydrating, they put fresh scuba tanks on their backs and returned to the ocean.
II.
I like her, Robert Wade thought to himself. And she is an excellent dive guide. Very thorough. Oh, a slight mistake with the camera, but she owned up to it and corrected the problem. I…I think I’ll ask her to take me to the SS Sapona tomorrow.
I….I wonder…I think I’ll ask her out for a drink tonight. Supposedly, after you have a drink, you’re supposed to lose all your inhibitions and be able to talk to people…I think I’ll try it.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
6. Stacy's Erotica: Anton and the Mermaid
Anton Weaver stood on the prow of his ship, gazing out into the sapphire blue water. He was anchored just off the Bimini Road, an underwater rock formation that was thousands of years old and which many people thought was man-made, and proved that here…here at Bimini….Atlantis had once existed.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a silvery shape break the surface…it was a dolphin. He watched the creature playing exuberantly for a few minutes, and felt a pang at his heart.
Some people watched the birds and wished they could fly through the air, *sans wings, *he had watched mammals swimming throughout the depths, and wished he could do the same thing.
But no, he was doomed to always be separated by a thin sheet of neoprene, a face mask, and a heavy scuba tank on his back.
Not today, though. Today he’d be skin diving…and when he said skin diving he meant skin-diving. With only flippers, a knife strapped to his inner calf, and a pair of goggles over his eyes, with a snorkel attached to them, Anton stepped to the side of his boat and dove in.
He dove down, down, the fifteen feet to the ocean floor, and the huge rectangular rocks that comprised the Bimini Road.
As he had done many times before, he followed the rocks from their beginning to their ending, a distance of only about half a mile, surfacing only a couple of times.
Anton had been diving all his life, and had wonderful breath control. He could stay underwater, even exerting himself as he was, for over three minutes.
He swam close to the ocean floor, reaching down now and then to touch the algae-covered rocks, loving the feeling of the rough stone on his fingertips. He was touching history. He was touching an edifice that was thousands of years old.
Anton continued to swim along the Road. He’d swam along it dozens of times over the years, and knew when it was supposed to end.
This time…it wasn’t ending. He was still swimming…and now the rocks weren’t covered with algae but were unsullied, clean stone. How was this possible?
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a silver movement, and paused to take a look at the nearby dolphin.
Only…it wasn’t a dolphin.
It was a woman.
A woman who, like him, was skin-diving…in the nude.
Her hair curled around her beautiful face like a nimbus. Her pale skin positively glowed. Her breasts…her breasts were perfect, small, round globes that bobbed gently. Her belly was flat, then her hips flared out to long, long legs…and at the end of each foot…some weird kind of flipper…
Anton’s eyes had ran down the woman’s body, even as “something’s wrong here” resonated in him. He looked up again. She wasn’t wearing anything over her eyes, yet she seemed to be able to see him perfectly. And her lips…she was pursing her lips like she wanted to kiss him…and then unpursing them…as if she were breathing underwater…
She remained motionless, staring at him. Her arms were spread out to her sides, and she was making various gestures with her hands to maintain her position against the current.
Anton kicked his feet just a couple of times, so that he glided toward her slowly.
She waited for him.
He came right up to her, and she put out her hands to stop his forward progress, to bring him from a horizontal, swimming position to a vertical one. She stared deeply into his eyes.
Her eyes…a deep green, with a large pupil…eyes that you could get lost in.
And those lips…
Anton reached out and grasped her biceps, drawing him closer to her. He inclined his head forward, and placed his lips upon hers.
She kissed him back, and he opened his mouth to receive her tongue. But incredibly, instead of her tongue it was air that she breathed into him.
He pushed her away from him, feeling his throat working. He was choking…then suddenly…he wasn’t. He was breathing. *Breathing underwater.
She had been staring at him, and now nodded, as if he had just passed a test. She held out her hand to him. He swum forward and took it. She turned and pulled on his hand, placing it on her shoulder. He brought up his other hand to her other shoulder, and then suddenly she was swimming, faster than he would have thought possible.
Her body was undulating, like a dolphin’s, and he was riding on her back as she was cutting through the water at an incredible speed. And he was able to breathe…
And then suddenly she twisted underneath him, until suddenly she was swimming while *facing him, and her body was undulating and her belly was quite close to his cock, so close that if only he had some power of his own he could have entered her there and then. He found he wanted to, desperately.
She started slowing down, her body continuing to undulate, her firm breasts looking so lovely in the clear water, her belly, her legs, and that dark patch between her legs that indicated she was a woman ready for love…
Now…now…they had slowed down enough so that he was no longer feeling overpowered by the force of the water, he let his hands slide down from her shoulders to her waist and used them to steady her while he entered her.
Her body arced as she felt him enter her, and then she wrapped her legs around his waist.
They hovered there, neutrally buoyant, while Anton thrust himself into her again and again…meantime staring deep into those green eyes…eyes that seemed to have the wisdom of the world in them… and her face, her beautiful face, her lips continuing to purse and unpurse…he abandoned his grip on her waist and grasped her face, he so wanted to kiss her again.
He kissed her, and she kissed him back, and he could feel himself coming, and it was an incredible feeling, as the pleasure jolted through him…
Then he was spent, and he floated there, gazing at her, gazing into those fathomless eyes.
Then, suddenly, he was choking again, and she hooked a hand under his arm and raised him to the surface.
He bobbed there, sucking in deep breaths of air. Then, desperately, he began looking around for her. Where had she gone?
He jackknifed down into the water, and there she was. She came forward, kissed him once, gently, then she shoved him away, turned around and began swimming away from him with that undulating movement.
And all he could do was watch her swim out of his life…
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a silvery shape break the surface…it was a dolphin. He watched the creature playing exuberantly for a few minutes, and felt a pang at his heart.
Some people watched the birds and wished they could fly through the air, *sans wings, *he had watched mammals swimming throughout the depths, and wished he could do the same thing.
But no, he was doomed to always be separated by a thin sheet of neoprene, a face mask, and a heavy scuba tank on his back.
Not today, though. Today he’d be skin diving…and when he said skin diving he meant skin-diving. With only flippers, a knife strapped to his inner calf, and a pair of goggles over his eyes, with a snorkel attached to them, Anton stepped to the side of his boat and dove in.
He dove down, down, the fifteen feet to the ocean floor, and the huge rectangular rocks that comprised the Bimini Road.
As he had done many times before, he followed the rocks from their beginning to their ending, a distance of only about half a mile, surfacing only a couple of times.
Anton had been diving all his life, and had wonderful breath control. He could stay underwater, even exerting himself as he was, for over three minutes.
He swam close to the ocean floor, reaching down now and then to touch the algae-covered rocks, loving the feeling of the rough stone on his fingertips. He was touching history. He was touching an edifice that was thousands of years old.
Anton continued to swim along the Road. He’d swam along it dozens of times over the years, and knew when it was supposed to end.
This time…it wasn’t ending. He was still swimming…and now the rocks weren’t covered with algae but were unsullied, clean stone. How was this possible?
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a silver movement, and paused to take a look at the nearby dolphin.
Only…it wasn’t a dolphin.
It was a woman.
A woman who, like him, was skin-diving…in the nude.
Her hair curled around her beautiful face like a nimbus. Her pale skin positively glowed. Her breasts…her breasts were perfect, small, round globes that bobbed gently. Her belly was flat, then her hips flared out to long, long legs…and at the end of each foot…some weird kind of flipper…
Anton’s eyes had ran down the woman’s body, even as “something’s wrong here” resonated in him. He looked up again. She wasn’t wearing anything over her eyes, yet she seemed to be able to see him perfectly. And her lips…she was pursing her lips like she wanted to kiss him…and then unpursing them…as if she were breathing underwater…
She remained motionless, staring at him. Her arms were spread out to her sides, and she was making various gestures with her hands to maintain her position against the current.
Anton kicked his feet just a couple of times, so that he glided toward her slowly.
She waited for him.
He came right up to her, and she put out her hands to stop his forward progress, to bring him from a horizontal, swimming position to a vertical one. She stared deeply into his eyes.
Her eyes…a deep green, with a large pupil…eyes that you could get lost in.
And those lips…
Anton reached out and grasped her biceps, drawing him closer to her. He inclined his head forward, and placed his lips upon hers.
She kissed him back, and he opened his mouth to receive her tongue. But incredibly, instead of her tongue it was air that she breathed into him.
He pushed her away from him, feeling his throat working. He was choking…then suddenly…he wasn’t. He was breathing. *Breathing underwater.
She had been staring at him, and now nodded, as if he had just passed a test. She held out her hand to him. He swum forward and took it. She turned and pulled on his hand, placing it on her shoulder. He brought up his other hand to her other shoulder, and then suddenly she was swimming, faster than he would have thought possible.
Her body was undulating, like a dolphin’s, and he was riding on her back as she was cutting through the water at an incredible speed. And he was able to breathe…
And then suddenly she twisted underneath him, until suddenly she was swimming while *facing him, and her body was undulating and her belly was quite close to his cock, so close that if only he had some power of his own he could have entered her there and then. He found he wanted to, desperately.
She started slowing down, her body continuing to undulate, her firm breasts looking so lovely in the clear water, her belly, her legs, and that dark patch between her legs that indicated she was a woman ready for love…
Now…now…they had slowed down enough so that he was no longer feeling overpowered by the force of the water, he let his hands slide down from her shoulders to her waist and used them to steady her while he entered her.
Her body arced as she felt him enter her, and then she wrapped her legs around his waist.
They hovered there, neutrally buoyant, while Anton thrust himself into her again and again…meantime staring deep into those green eyes…eyes that seemed to have the wisdom of the world in them… and her face, her beautiful face, her lips continuing to purse and unpurse…he abandoned his grip on her waist and grasped her face, he so wanted to kiss her again.
He kissed her, and she kissed him back, and he could feel himself coming, and it was an incredible feeling, as the pleasure jolted through him…
Then he was spent, and he floated there, gazing at her, gazing into those fathomless eyes.
Then, suddenly, he was choking again, and she hooked a hand under his arm and raised him to the surface.
He bobbed there, sucking in deep breaths of air. Then, desperately, he began looking around for her. Where had she gone?
He jackknifed down into the water, and there she was. She came forward, kissed him once, gently, then she shoved him away, turned around and began swimming away from him with that undulating movement.
And all he could do was watch her swim out of his life…
Monday, September 13, 2010
5. Dive Preparations: Stacy and Chelsea
I.
After Stacy dropped Amanda off outside the Miami harbor, she headed back toward Bimini.
As she piloted the craft Bimini-wards, she found herself laughing out loud at times for the sheer joy of living. The Scylla and Charybdis was a powerful, well-behaving craft which was a joy to handle. Top that off with an azure blue ocean and a paler blue sky, and life was good.
Occasionally she’d pass another craft – Floridians loved their boating, as did Bahamanians – but for the most part she was alone on the water, lost in her own thoughts.
Bimini consists of two islands -- North Bimini and South Bimini. The town on North Bimini, an island about seven miles long and 700 feet wide, is Alice Town. A single road, the King’s Highway, runs through this collection of shops, restaurants, and bars.
South Bimini is a quieter place, with only one community as well -- Port Royale, which is, indeed, where the Suttons live and the Sutton kids grew up.
Tourists come to Bimini for a day of big game fishing and then a night out at the bars. Lots of tourists come for the snorkeling and scuba diving.
As far as literary figures are concerned, Ernest Hemingway lived on the island for a couple of years, from 1935 to 1937, writing bits of To Have and Have Not while staying at the Compleat Angler Hotel. (An iconic part of the island, the Compleat Angler was destroyed by fire in 2006). Singer Jimmy Buffett worked on one of his books while living on South Bimini.
II.
An hour or so after the Scylla and Charybdis glided into its slip on the coast of Bimini, it glided out again, with Stacy once more as pilot and Chelsea and Robert Wade as passengers. Acting as a guide to only one passenger was not really an economical use of the large yacht. Both Chelsea and Stacy knew it. It would have been better to have just taken the Zodiac. But…Amanda needed it and that was that. Besides, it was fun to put the powerful craft through its paces.
Stacy wore a bright yellow t-shirt and shorts, and a yellow baseball cap. She also wore large, black, wraparound sunglasses, which served to hide the fact that she and Chelsea were identical twins.
Stacy guided the Scylla and Charybdis to an optimum anchor position a few hundred meters from the Bimini Road.
After her two passengers disappeared beneath the waves on their little adventure, Stacy pulled out a notebook and pen, and wrote down the title a new short story, the plot of which had occurred to her as she returned to the islands. One of her goals – for she, like the other two Sutton sisters, had many goals – was to be a published author. In her sea chest at home were dozens of notebooks filled with short stories (she preferred to compose her first drafts with old-fashioned pen and paper, before transferring it to her computer.)
Stacy relaxed on deck, gazing occasionally at the glittering horizon while she sought for inspiration. She was going to try science fiction this time…a science fiction love story under the sea…
III.
Robert Wade had arrived at the pier with a shirt and baggy shorts thrown over a shorty wetsuit (a spandex or neoprene wetsuit that covered the wearer from arms to upper thighs). He was somewhat disappointed..or was he relieved?...to see that Chelsea was also wearing a shorty.
“Hi,” she greeted him cheerily.
For the next half hour, Chelsea took him through dive preparation. They checked the tanks and regulators they’d be using. Chelsea tested him on the various hand signals that divers used while underwater. Finally, she gave the dive plan. They were going to dive all three rock formation, the Bimini Road and the two formations near it. Chelsea would lead, he would follow her on her left side. If they got separated, they would surface and inflate a rescue pole.
Wade was quite pleased to see the professionalism with which Chelsea conducted herself. He was careful to pay close attention and he tried to show some hesitation as he did the hand signals, to make it clear he was a novice.
Finally, they settled themselves on comfy chairs in the prow of the boat, and their pilot pointed them out to sea.
As they headed toward their destination, Chelsea chatted more about the history of the Bimini Road.
The Bimini Road, also called the Bimini Wall, is a submerged rock formation near North Bimini. It consists of a half-mile long linear feature that runs northeast-southwest, and is composed of limestone blocks that are roughly rectangular. There has long been controversy about the Road – is it a natural rock formation or was it made by human hands in the distant past?
She recounted the story of the discovery of the Road. It had been discovered on September 2, 1968 by a diver named J. Manson Valentine. Since its discovery, it has been dived on by geologists, archaeologists, anthropologists, marine engineers, and tourists, all trying to decide if it was a man-made structure or just a natural phenomenon.
The Scylla drove through the ocean, and Wade sat silently, enjoying the sea-nery. [Yes, I said sea-nery.] When they anchored, just off the Road, he followed Chelsea to the rear of the boat where they put on their gear, then walked off the edge of the boat. They surfaced, performed an OK hand-signal, and then submerged simultaneously into the crystal clear water, with visibility of over 100 feet.
It was beautiful. It was peaceful.
After Stacy dropped Amanda off outside the Miami harbor, she headed back toward Bimini.
As she piloted the craft Bimini-wards, she found herself laughing out loud at times for the sheer joy of living. The Scylla and Charybdis was a powerful, well-behaving craft which was a joy to handle. Top that off with an azure blue ocean and a paler blue sky, and life was good.
Occasionally she’d pass another craft – Floridians loved their boating, as did Bahamanians – but for the most part she was alone on the water, lost in her own thoughts.
Bimini consists of two islands -- North Bimini and South Bimini. The town on North Bimini, an island about seven miles long and 700 feet wide, is Alice Town. A single road, the King’s Highway, runs through this collection of shops, restaurants, and bars.
South Bimini is a quieter place, with only one community as well -- Port Royale, which is, indeed, where the Suttons live and the Sutton kids grew up.
Tourists come to Bimini for a day of big game fishing and then a night out at the bars. Lots of tourists come for the snorkeling and scuba diving.
As far as literary figures are concerned, Ernest Hemingway lived on the island for a couple of years, from 1935 to 1937, writing bits of To Have and Have Not while staying at the Compleat Angler Hotel. (An iconic part of the island, the Compleat Angler was destroyed by fire in 2006). Singer Jimmy Buffett worked on one of his books while living on South Bimini.
II.
An hour or so after the Scylla and Charybdis glided into its slip on the coast of Bimini, it glided out again, with Stacy once more as pilot and Chelsea and Robert Wade as passengers. Acting as a guide to only one passenger was not really an economical use of the large yacht. Both Chelsea and Stacy knew it. It would have been better to have just taken the Zodiac. But…Amanda needed it and that was that. Besides, it was fun to put the powerful craft through its paces.
Stacy wore a bright yellow t-shirt and shorts, and a yellow baseball cap. She also wore large, black, wraparound sunglasses, which served to hide the fact that she and Chelsea were identical twins.
Stacy guided the Scylla and Charybdis to an optimum anchor position a few hundred meters from the Bimini Road.
After her two passengers disappeared beneath the waves on their little adventure, Stacy pulled out a notebook and pen, and wrote down the title a new short story, the plot of which had occurred to her as she returned to the islands. One of her goals – for she, like the other two Sutton sisters, had many goals – was to be a published author. In her sea chest at home were dozens of notebooks filled with short stories (she preferred to compose her first drafts with old-fashioned pen and paper, before transferring it to her computer.)
Stacy relaxed on deck, gazing occasionally at the glittering horizon while she sought for inspiration. She was going to try science fiction this time…a science fiction love story under the sea…
III.
Robert Wade had arrived at the pier with a shirt and baggy shorts thrown over a shorty wetsuit (a spandex or neoprene wetsuit that covered the wearer from arms to upper thighs). He was somewhat disappointed..or was he relieved?...to see that Chelsea was also wearing a shorty.
“Hi,” she greeted him cheerily.
For the next half hour, Chelsea took him through dive preparation. They checked the tanks and regulators they’d be using. Chelsea tested him on the various hand signals that divers used while underwater. Finally, she gave the dive plan. They were going to dive all three rock formation, the Bimini Road and the two formations near it. Chelsea would lead, he would follow her on her left side. If they got separated, they would surface and inflate a rescue pole.
Wade was quite pleased to see the professionalism with which Chelsea conducted herself. He was careful to pay close attention and he tried to show some hesitation as he did the hand signals, to make it clear he was a novice.
Finally, they settled themselves on comfy chairs in the prow of the boat, and their pilot pointed them out to sea.
As they headed toward their destination, Chelsea chatted more about the history of the Bimini Road.
The Bimini Road, also called the Bimini Wall, is a submerged rock formation near North Bimini. It consists of a half-mile long linear feature that runs northeast-southwest, and is composed of limestone blocks that are roughly rectangular. There has long been controversy about the Road – is it a natural rock formation or was it made by human hands in the distant past?
She recounted the story of the discovery of the Road. It had been discovered on September 2, 1968 by a diver named J. Manson Valentine. Since its discovery, it has been dived on by geologists, archaeologists, anthropologists, marine engineers, and tourists, all trying to decide if it was a man-made structure or just a natural phenomenon.
The Scylla drove through the ocean, and Wade sat silently, enjoying the sea-nery. [Yes, I said sea-nery.] When they anchored, just off the Road, he followed Chelsea to the rear of the boat where they put on their gear, then walked off the edge of the boat. They surfaced, performed an OK hand-signal, and then submerged simultaneously into the crystal clear water, with visibility of over 100 feet.
It was beautiful. It was peaceful.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
4. Swim Meet: Amanda
I.
Amanda Sutton spent the evening into the wee hours working on the website for their new freelance scuba diving business. About an hour after she started work, a friend of hers, Cheryl Kaszkowski, IM-ed her.
Amanda was a volunteer for the aquatics division of the local Special Needs Kids Sports Foundation. As far as Cheryl knew, she was still in Miami, and not 50 miles away in Bimini.
Amanda did not hesitate.
Cheryl signed off, and Amanda stood up from her computer.
Chelsea had returned a few hours ago, and when Amanda padded out to the living room for more cake, she saw the twins sitting on the couch, watching The Abyss together.
“I’ve got our first client,” Chelsea informed her. “I’ve been telling Stacy. A guy wants a guide to the Bimini Wall. He’ll be here at noon tomorrow.”
“Well done, Chelsea,” said Amanda, eyeing the cake with a practiced eye and cutting off a large slice. She took it, and a glass of milk which she fetched from the refrigerator, to the couch and sat down to watch a few minutes of the movie with her sisters.
“I need to head back to Miami tomorrow,” she said. “This week there’s a Special Kids Sports swimming competition. One of the assistant coaches has come down with the flu, so I said I’d help out.”
Chelsea nodded. “How are you going to get back, fly?”
While it was possible for a single personal watercraft to make the journey between Bimini and Miami, it was not a good idea. If mechanical problems occurred, the rider of a PWC…bobbing alone on the ocean waves…not a good idea.
“Normally I would..but I have to be at the pool by 1 o’clock. I figured one of you could take me back in the *Scylla and Charybdis. Early, of course, before Chelsea has to be out at sea with her Bimini Wall guy. Then I’ll fly back at the end of the week if you need me, otherwise I’ll stay in our apartment and do some networking and try to line up more clients.”
“Sounds good,” said Stacy. “I’ll take you over…leaving around 7 o’clock or so. That way I’ll be back in good time for Chelsea to take her guy out to the Wall.”
II.
The next morning, after the sisters shared breakfast with their parents, Stacy and Amanda set out for Miami. Stacy held the throttle wide open, and the seas were calm. They sighted land in an hour and a half.
Rather than go through the fuss and bother of taking the big yacht into one of the busy harbors along the coast, Stacy lowered the Zodiac – a motorized dingy which all large craft carried - and Amanda climbed into it. “Thanks, Stacy,” Amanda called from the bobbing boat. “I’ll see you later.”
Stacy waved, then watched as Amanda fired up the Zodiac and headed it toward shore. After waiting a few minutes for her to get well-clear, Stacy made a U-turn in the *Scylla and Charybdis and headed back toward Bimini.
Amanda took the Zodiac in to the Sutton family slip at the harbor, and jumped onto the quay. She glanced at her watch…she was cutting it a bit fine. She should have told Cheryl one o’clock, that would have given her a cushion she dearly needed. She hated being late.
Well, not to worry. She’d call Cheryl on her cellphone, make her apologies, and be there by one pm.
Amanda climbed into her Mustang, and made the call before she started the engine. She never talked on her cellphone while driving. Cheryl didn’t pick up so she left a voicemail.
However, traffic lights were with her, and she made it to the Barnes pool at exactly 11.55 am. Five minutes early!
Feeling pleased with herself – she so hated being late, even by a minute – Amanda strode into the pool and looked around for Cheryl. The whole area was a bustle as dozens of special needs kids competing in the event, and their family and friends, milled about.
There was Cheryl, talking to a tall, slender man she didn’t recognize.
Amanda walked up to her. “I have arrived,” she announced with a grin.
Cheryl turned and smiled at her, then looked at the man. “Teague, this is Amanda. She…”
The man she called Teague turned to her, frowning. “You look pretty happy for someone who is four hours late.”
Amanda looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“You may think just because you’re a volunteer you don’t need to be on time, but that’s not the case. We deserve to be treated just like any other organization. Four hours late, that’s pathetic.”
“Teague,” began Cheryl, but Amanda forestalled her.
“I’m very sorry,” she said. “Won’t happen again.”
“You say that so easily,” Teague said. “As if being late today …four hours late… doesn’t matter.”
*So much for a soft answer turning away wrath, thought Amanda ruefully.
“Won’t happen again,” she repeated.
Teague glanced at Cheryl, said, “See that it doesn’t,” and walked away.
“Who the heck is that guy, Cheryl?” Amanda demanded.
“Patrick Teague. He’s new since your time. Co-ordinator for the aquatic events. He’s a bit…abrasive, as you see. Doesn’t like it when people don’t take things seriously.”
“You don’t say. What’s this about me being four hours late?”
“Well, the coaches were supposed to be here at eight o’clock.”
“But I told you I couldn’t get here until noon today.”
Cheryl stared at her, sudden horror in her eyes. “Oh, Amanda, I’m so sorry. I’d forgotten. Normally, you were always here so early, I’d just…it slipped out of my little mind, what you said…Jeez. Well, I’ll go tell Teague it was my fault…”
Amanda held up a hand. “And get you on his bad side? Don’t even worry about it, Cheryl. I wont’ be late again, so it’s a moot point.”
“But I don’t want him thinking…”
“Cheryl, I said don’t worry about it. If one of my volunteers was four hours late I’d be ticked off, too. And let them know. Perhaps not as …abrasively as Mr. Teague did, but…”
“I know you would,” said Cheryl with a grin.
The two women looked up from their grins to see Patrick Teague across the vast room, glaring at them.
Cheryl touched Amanda’s arm. “We’d better get to work.”
“Yeah,” said Amanda, turning away from Teague’s glare. “Let’s go.”
Amanda Sutton spent the evening into the wee hours working on the website for their new freelance scuba diving business. About an hour after she started work, a friend of hers, Cheryl Kaszkowski, IM-ed her.
“Amanda. Donna has called in sick with the flu. I really, really need an assistant coach to help me with this swimming competition at Barnes Pool. Could you possibly help? I’ll need you all this week if at all possible.”
Amanda was a volunteer for the aquatics division of the local Special Needs Kids Sports Foundation. As far as Cheryl knew, she was still in Miami, and not 50 miles away in Bimini.
Amanda did not hesitate.
“Sure, Cheryl. I can meet you at the pool by 1 o’clock tomorrow, and I’m available all week.”
“Amanda, you’re a lifesaver. Thanks!”
“No prob.”
Cheryl signed off, and Amanda stood up from her computer.
Chelsea had returned a few hours ago, and when Amanda padded out to the living room for more cake, she saw the twins sitting on the couch, watching The Abyss together.
“I’ve got our first client,” Chelsea informed her. “I’ve been telling Stacy. A guy wants a guide to the Bimini Wall. He’ll be here at noon tomorrow.”
“Well done, Chelsea,” said Amanda, eyeing the cake with a practiced eye and cutting off a large slice. She took it, and a glass of milk which she fetched from the refrigerator, to the couch and sat down to watch a few minutes of the movie with her sisters.
“I need to head back to Miami tomorrow,” she said. “This week there’s a Special Kids Sports swimming competition. One of the assistant coaches has come down with the flu, so I said I’d help out.”
Chelsea nodded. “How are you going to get back, fly?”
While it was possible for a single personal watercraft to make the journey between Bimini and Miami, it was not a good idea. If mechanical problems occurred, the rider of a PWC…bobbing alone on the ocean waves…not a good idea.
“Normally I would..but I have to be at the pool by 1 o’clock. I figured one of you could take me back in the *Scylla and Charybdis. Early, of course, before Chelsea has to be out at sea with her Bimini Wall guy. Then I’ll fly back at the end of the week if you need me, otherwise I’ll stay in our apartment and do some networking and try to line up more clients.”
“Sounds good,” said Stacy. “I’ll take you over…leaving around 7 o’clock or so. That way I’ll be back in good time for Chelsea to take her guy out to the Wall.”
II.
The next morning, after the sisters shared breakfast with their parents, Stacy and Amanda set out for Miami. Stacy held the throttle wide open, and the seas were calm. They sighted land in an hour and a half.
Rather than go through the fuss and bother of taking the big yacht into one of the busy harbors along the coast, Stacy lowered the Zodiac – a motorized dingy which all large craft carried - and Amanda climbed into it. “Thanks, Stacy,” Amanda called from the bobbing boat. “I’ll see you later.”
Stacy waved, then watched as Amanda fired up the Zodiac and headed it toward shore. After waiting a few minutes for her to get well-clear, Stacy made a U-turn in the *Scylla and Charybdis and headed back toward Bimini.
Amanda took the Zodiac in to the Sutton family slip at the harbor, and jumped onto the quay. She glanced at her watch…she was cutting it a bit fine. She should have told Cheryl one o’clock, that would have given her a cushion she dearly needed. She hated being late.
Well, not to worry. She’d call Cheryl on her cellphone, make her apologies, and be there by one pm.
Amanda climbed into her Mustang, and made the call before she started the engine. She never talked on her cellphone while driving. Cheryl didn’t pick up so she left a voicemail.
However, traffic lights were with her, and she made it to the Barnes pool at exactly 11.55 am. Five minutes early!
Feeling pleased with herself – she so hated being late, even by a minute – Amanda strode into the pool and looked around for Cheryl. The whole area was a bustle as dozens of special needs kids competing in the event, and their family and friends, milled about.
There was Cheryl, talking to a tall, slender man she didn’t recognize.
Amanda walked up to her. “I have arrived,” she announced with a grin.
Cheryl turned and smiled at her, then looked at the man. “Teague, this is Amanda. She…”
The man she called Teague turned to her, frowning. “You look pretty happy for someone who is four hours late.”
Amanda looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“You may think just because you’re a volunteer you don’t need to be on time, but that’s not the case. We deserve to be treated just like any other organization. Four hours late, that’s pathetic.”
“Teague,” began Cheryl, but Amanda forestalled her.
“I’m very sorry,” she said. “Won’t happen again.”
“You say that so easily,” Teague said. “As if being late today …four hours late… doesn’t matter.”
*So much for a soft answer turning away wrath, thought Amanda ruefully.
“Won’t happen again,” she repeated.
Teague glanced at Cheryl, said, “See that it doesn’t,” and walked away.
“Who the heck is that guy, Cheryl?” Amanda demanded.
“Patrick Teague. He’s new since your time. Co-ordinator for the aquatic events. He’s a bit…abrasive, as you see. Doesn’t like it when people don’t take things seriously.”
“You don’t say. What’s this about me being four hours late?”
“Well, the coaches were supposed to be here at eight o’clock.”
“But I told you I couldn’t get here until noon today.”
Cheryl stared at her, sudden horror in her eyes. “Oh, Amanda, I’m so sorry. I’d forgotten. Normally, you were always here so early, I’d just…it slipped out of my little mind, what you said…Jeez. Well, I’ll go tell Teague it was my fault…”
Amanda held up a hand. “And get you on his bad side? Don’t even worry about it, Cheryl. I wont’ be late again, so it’s a moot point.”
“But I don’t want him thinking…”
“Cheryl, I said don’t worry about it. If one of my volunteers was four hours late I’d be ticked off, too. And let them know. Perhaps not as …abrasively as Mr. Teague did, but…”
“I know you would,” said Cheryl with a grin.
The two women looked up from their grins to see Patrick Teague across the vast room, glaring at them.
Cheryl touched Amanda’s arm. “We’d better get to work.”
“Yeah,” said Amanda, turning away from Teague’s glare. “Let’s go.”
Thursday, September 9, 2010
3. Dive Guide: Chelsea
I.
“Hi,” said Chelsea, extending her hand. “Chelsea Sutton.”
“Robert Wade.”
“ Harry tells me you’d like a tour of the Bimini Road tomorrow.”
“That’s right. I…”
At this point Harry arrived with the two glasses of beer.
Wade looked at the glasses. “No thank you,” he said, stiffly. “I don’t drink.”
“Oh. No problem,” said Chelsea, trying to make light of her faux pas. “All the more for me.”
Wade smiled, a little grimly, Chelsea thought, and said, “I hope you’re not driving.”
Chelsea bit back a sarcastic reply. He was a client – a potential client, anyway – and he had to trust her. Especially if they were going scuba diving the next morning, not that the Bimini Road was a difficult dive.
“I was just joking,” she said instead. “I never drink more than two beers the night before I go diving. Harry, take it away.”
Harry did so.
“Now, Mr. Wade. How much scuba diving experience do you have?”
“Not a lot. I just got certified.”
“Can I see your C-card?”
Wade nodded, took out his wallet, and presented the crisp new card to her. It was a PADI open water card, issued by TechnoOcean. (This meant that a dive school called TechnoOcean, certified by the Professional Association of Dive Instructors, had trained him.) Chelsea had never heard of them. She made a mental note to check up on them when she returned home.
“Okay,” she said, handing it back to him. “And do you have your own gear, or do you need me to supply it?”
“I need you,” said Wade.
Chelsea nodded. “No problem. Well, the Road is not a complex dive. It’s only in 15 feet of water. And there are always a handful of tourists there. It’s a popular spot, as you can imagine.”
“Yes. I know,” said Wade. “What time can we go?”
“Whenever you like.”
Wade’s eyes drifted to her beer glass, which was now two-thirds empty. “How about noon?” he asked.
“Noon it is." said Chelsea, taking a sip deliberately. What, did he think she'd need time to recover from a hangover? "Be at the North pier at 11:30, so we can get you geared up. My boat is called the Scylla and Charybdis.”
Wade’s eyes widened slightly, but he only said, “Very good, I’ll be there. Thanks.”
He extended his hand, Chelsea shook it, then he left the bar.
Chelsea finished off her beer, waved a farewell at Harry who was talking with a couple of young women at the other end of the bar, and went home herself.
II.
Robert Wade had entered the Red Rum nightclub and walked to the bar. He’d been told that the bartender, Harry, knew all the divers on Bimini and could quote him chapter and verse on each one.
Wade was in search of dive masters, for reasons of his own, and had decided that the best way to find the ones he needed was to pretend to be a novice. He would see how he was treated by each of those whom he would select as his guides over the next couple of weeks, and choose the ones he liked best for his project.
“I’m a novice diver,” he told Harry, “And I was told you know everyone here and can give me a recommendation. I want to dive the Bimini Road tomorrow.”
“The Bimini Road isn’t a very hard dive,” said Harry. “You can snorkel it.”
“I suppose so,” said Wade, “But I’d really like a guide. Someone who can explain the Road to me.”
“Well, I’ve got just the girl for you.”
“Girl?” said Wade.
“Well, young lady. She wouldn’t thank me for calling her a girl, actually. It’s just that it takes a second to say girl, and several seconds to say young lady.”
“A bit of a feminist?”
“Yeah," said Harry, waving that away as not relevant. "Dives like a fish. And she’s just started a free-lance dive business with her sisters and is looking for customers. So it’s like karma. There she is, over there, drinking the beer.”
Wade gazed to where Harry had indicated, and his heart skipped a beat. She was tall, slender, but with the musculature of a lifelong athlete. She was also beautiful, with a short razor-cut hairstyle that nevertheless emphasized the femininity of her square face. She was dressed all in black…a look he found very sexy as well. But young.
“How old is she?” he asked.
“Twenty. Been diving since she was a kid. Her parents came over from the States twenty years ago, and she's grown up here. She knows Bimini, and the waters around it, like the back of her hand.”
Young and beautiful, thought Wade. And very aware that she was young and beautiful. The world was probably her oyster. He was a computer man, he could talk just fine to people via email, but when it came to dealing with them in person…which is what he was going to have to do for this particular project…he had a hard time. Oh, he could do it, he just didn’t like it. Wasn’t skilled at it. Did he really want to start his first interpersonal contact with a beautiful young woman?
“So shall I go get her?” asked Harry. There was a touch of impatience in his voice.
“Sure,” said Wade quickly. “Thanks.”
She came up to him, and he got a better view of her as she came at him with an economical stride, no sashaying of the hips, for which he was duly grateful. He was six feet, she was only a couple of inches shorter than he was. “Hi,” she said, holding out her hand for him to shake. “Chelsea Sutton.”
“Robert Wade.”
“Harry tells me you’d like a tour of the Bimini Road tomorrow.”
“That’s right. I…”
At this point the bartender arrived with the two glasses of beer. Wade looked at them in surprise. What was this? Was she expecting him to treat her to a beer, like he’d seen in the movies? Whenever a guy wanted to pick up a girl in a bar, he always bought her a drink and had the bartender deliver it.
He couldn’t think of anything to say. Especially since he didn’t drink. “No thank you,” he said. “I don’t drink.”
“Oh. No problem,” said the woman, exchanging a glance with the bartender. “All the more for me.”
Was she making fun of him for being a teetotaler, wondered Wade. He thought desperately for something relevant to say, something clever. He’d try to make a joke. He said, “I hope you’re not driving.”
Immediately he knew it had been the wrong thing to say. She didn’t smile, just looked at him. She said, a little coldly, “I was just joking. I never drink more than two beers the night before I go diving. Harry, take it away.”
The bartender did so.
“Now, Mr. Wade,” the woman said in a business-like tone. “How much scuba diving experience do you have?”
“Not a lot.” He lied. “I just got certified.”
“Can I see your C-card?”
Wade nodded, took out his wallet, and presented the crisp new card to her. He’d had it made up specially to reflect a date just a few weeks old.
“Okay,” she said, handing it back to him. “And do you have your own gear, or do you need me to supply it?”
He’d try another joke, Wade thought. Some clever play on words. “I need you,” he said.
But the lady…Chelsea, he must think of her as Chelsea…just nodded, her face expressionless. “No problem. Well, the Road is not a complex dive. It’s only in 15 feet of water. And there are always a handful of tourists there. It’s a popular spot, as you can imagine.”
“Yes. I know,” said Wade. “What time can we go?”
“Whenever you like,” she replied.
Wade looked away as he gave it some thought. He was never very good in the mornings, it took a few hours and several cups of coffee before he felt ready to meet the world. “How about noon?” he said.
She smiled at him. “Noon it is. Be at the North pier at 11:30, so we can get you geared up. My boat is called the Scylla and Charybdis.”
The Scylla and Charybdis? What an intriguing name for a woman to give her boat, he thought. He said, “Very good, I’ll be there. Thanks.”
He extended his hand, she shook it with a firm grip, and then he nodded at her and walked quickly out of the bar.
As he walked back to his hotel, he ran his conversation with her over again in his mind. Things he should have said came to him…but that was always the way. He always knew what to say, five minutes after the time when he needed to say it.
Typical.
Still, he hadn’t done too badly. And tomorrow they’d be spending most of their time underwater, so he wouldn’t have to talk to her much at all.
Wade nodded, satisfied with his conclusions.
But he was a little nervous about tomorrow, nonetheless.
“Hi,” said Chelsea, extending her hand. “Chelsea Sutton.”
“Robert Wade.”
“ Harry tells me you’d like a tour of the Bimini Road tomorrow.”
“That’s right. I…”
At this point Harry arrived with the two glasses of beer.
Wade looked at the glasses. “No thank you,” he said, stiffly. “I don’t drink.”
“Oh. No problem,” said Chelsea, trying to make light of her faux pas. “All the more for me.”
Wade smiled, a little grimly, Chelsea thought, and said, “I hope you’re not driving.”
Chelsea bit back a sarcastic reply. He was a client – a potential client, anyway – and he had to trust her. Especially if they were going scuba diving the next morning, not that the Bimini Road was a difficult dive.
“I was just joking,” she said instead. “I never drink more than two beers the night before I go diving. Harry, take it away.”
Harry did so.
“Now, Mr. Wade. How much scuba diving experience do you have?”
“Not a lot. I just got certified.”
“Can I see your C-card?”
Wade nodded, took out his wallet, and presented the crisp new card to her. It was a PADI open water card, issued by TechnoOcean. (This meant that a dive school called TechnoOcean, certified by the Professional Association of Dive Instructors, had trained him.) Chelsea had never heard of them. She made a mental note to check up on them when she returned home.
“Okay,” she said, handing it back to him. “And do you have your own gear, or do you need me to supply it?”
“I need you,” said Wade.
Chelsea nodded. “No problem. Well, the Road is not a complex dive. It’s only in 15 feet of water. And there are always a handful of tourists there. It’s a popular spot, as you can imagine.”
“Yes. I know,” said Wade. “What time can we go?”
“Whenever you like.”
Wade’s eyes drifted to her beer glass, which was now two-thirds empty. “How about noon?” he asked.
“Noon it is." said Chelsea, taking a sip deliberately. What, did he think she'd need time to recover from a hangover? "Be at the North pier at 11:30, so we can get you geared up. My boat is called the Scylla and Charybdis.”
Wade’s eyes widened slightly, but he only said, “Very good, I’ll be there. Thanks.”
He extended his hand, Chelsea shook it, then he left the bar.
Chelsea finished off her beer, waved a farewell at Harry who was talking with a couple of young women at the other end of the bar, and went home herself.
II.
Robert Wade had entered the Red Rum nightclub and walked to the bar. He’d been told that the bartender, Harry, knew all the divers on Bimini and could quote him chapter and verse on each one.
Wade was in search of dive masters, for reasons of his own, and had decided that the best way to find the ones he needed was to pretend to be a novice. He would see how he was treated by each of those whom he would select as his guides over the next couple of weeks, and choose the ones he liked best for his project.
“I’m a novice diver,” he told Harry, “And I was told you know everyone here and can give me a recommendation. I want to dive the Bimini Road tomorrow.”
“The Bimini Road isn’t a very hard dive,” said Harry. “You can snorkel it.”
“I suppose so,” said Wade, “But I’d really like a guide. Someone who can explain the Road to me.”
“Well, I’ve got just the girl for you.”
“Girl?” said Wade.
“Well, young lady. She wouldn’t thank me for calling her a girl, actually. It’s just that it takes a second to say girl, and several seconds to say young lady.”
“A bit of a feminist?”
“Yeah," said Harry, waving that away as not relevant. "Dives like a fish. And she’s just started a free-lance dive business with her sisters and is looking for customers. So it’s like karma. There she is, over there, drinking the beer.”
Wade gazed to where Harry had indicated, and his heart skipped a beat. She was tall, slender, but with the musculature of a lifelong athlete. She was also beautiful, with a short razor-cut hairstyle that nevertheless emphasized the femininity of her square face. She was dressed all in black…a look he found very sexy as well. But young.
“How old is she?” he asked.
“Twenty. Been diving since she was a kid. Her parents came over from the States twenty years ago, and she's grown up here. She knows Bimini, and the waters around it, like the back of her hand.”
Young and beautiful, thought Wade. And very aware that she was young and beautiful. The world was probably her oyster. He was a computer man, he could talk just fine to people via email, but when it came to dealing with them in person…which is what he was going to have to do for this particular project…he had a hard time. Oh, he could do it, he just didn’t like it. Wasn’t skilled at it. Did he really want to start his first interpersonal contact with a beautiful young woman?
“So shall I go get her?” asked Harry. There was a touch of impatience in his voice.
“Sure,” said Wade quickly. “Thanks.”
She came up to him, and he got a better view of her as she came at him with an economical stride, no sashaying of the hips, for which he was duly grateful. He was six feet, she was only a couple of inches shorter than he was. “Hi,” she said, holding out her hand for him to shake. “Chelsea Sutton.”
“Robert Wade.”
“Harry tells me you’d like a tour of the Bimini Road tomorrow.”
“That’s right. I…”
At this point the bartender arrived with the two glasses of beer. Wade looked at them in surprise. What was this? Was she expecting him to treat her to a beer, like he’d seen in the movies? Whenever a guy wanted to pick up a girl in a bar, he always bought her a drink and had the bartender deliver it.
He couldn’t think of anything to say. Especially since he didn’t drink. “No thank you,” he said. “I don’t drink.”
“Oh. No problem,” said the woman, exchanging a glance with the bartender. “All the more for me.”
Was she making fun of him for being a teetotaler, wondered Wade. He thought desperately for something relevant to say, something clever. He’d try to make a joke. He said, “I hope you’re not driving.”
Immediately he knew it had been the wrong thing to say. She didn’t smile, just looked at him. She said, a little coldly, “I was just joking. I never drink more than two beers the night before I go diving. Harry, take it away.”
The bartender did so.
“Now, Mr. Wade,” the woman said in a business-like tone. “How much scuba diving experience do you have?”
“Not a lot.” He lied. “I just got certified.”
“Can I see your C-card?”
Wade nodded, took out his wallet, and presented the crisp new card to her. He’d had it made up specially to reflect a date just a few weeks old.
“Okay,” she said, handing it back to him. “And do you have your own gear, or do you need me to supply it?”
He’d try another joke, Wade thought. Some clever play on words. “I need you,” he said.
But the lady…Chelsea, he must think of her as Chelsea…just nodded, her face expressionless. “No problem. Well, the Road is not a complex dive. It’s only in 15 feet of water. And there are always a handful of tourists there. It’s a popular spot, as you can imagine.”
“Yes. I know,” said Wade. “What time can we go?”
“Whenever you like,” she replied.
Wade looked away as he gave it some thought. He was never very good in the mornings, it took a few hours and several cups of coffee before he felt ready to meet the world. “How about noon?” he said.
She smiled at him. “Noon it is. Be at the North pier at 11:30, so we can get you geared up. My boat is called the Scylla and Charybdis.”
The Scylla and Charybdis? What an intriguing name for a woman to give her boat, he thought. He said, “Very good, I’ll be there. Thanks.”
He extended his hand, she shook it with a firm grip, and then he nodded at her and walked quickly out of the bar.
As he walked back to his hotel, he ran his conversation with her over again in his mind. Things he should have said came to him…but that was always the way. He always knew what to say, five minutes after the time when he needed to say it.
Typical.
Still, he hadn’t done too badly. And tomorrow they’d be spending most of their time underwater, so he wouldn’t have to talk to her much at all.
Wade nodded, satisfied with his conclusions.
But he was a little nervous about tomorrow, nonetheless.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
2. Red Rum: Chelsea
After making serious in-roads on the birthday cake, their parents officially turned over ownership of the Scylla and Charybdisto Amanda, Chelsea and Stacy. The entire family took the boat out for a spin to cap the day.
That evening, Amanda broke out her laptop and did some more work on the website she’d been designing ever since her parents told her of their plans to gift them with the boat, and provide start-up financing for their freelance dive business.
Chelsea and Stacy relaxed in their own individual ways. Chelsea was the outgoing one of the duo, the one who could, wherever they were, go into a sports bar to cheer on her teams (the Florida Marlins and the Miami Dolphins) on a regular basis, and make new friends at the drop of a hat. Stacy, on the other hand, was more of a loner, unhappy in large groups.
Stacy, therefore, chose to spend the rest of her birthday on board the Scylla and Charybdis, relaxing in her cabin (the yacht was a live-aboard with six cabins) and watching her favorite movies, James Mason’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and then The Abyss.
Chelsea went out to the Red Rum night club. Bimini was a popular tourist spot. There were many night clubs, some free standing, others within resort complexes where guests from cruise ships stayed. The Red Rum night club was a small, intime club, frequented typically only by scuba divers.
Stacy, dressed in a black t-shirt and black cargo shorts, entered the Red Rum and looked around. A steel band was playing in one corner, there were a few people on the dance floor, and a few people at the bar.
“Beer please, Harry,” Chelsea requested, snagging a stool. “Anyone around?”
“Hi, Chelsea,” said Harry with a warm smile. She’d known Harry for two years, ever since she’d turned 18, the legal age for drinking on Bimini, and indeed, throughout the Bahamas. She – and her sisters – had been attending university on the mainland for the last two years, but made frequent trips back home – their parents had run a successful dive boat operation in the area for the last 20 years, until their retirement…official today!
“You just missed Carl and Piet, they went out with a couple of girls a few minutes ago. I haven’t seen Terry yet. He’s usually in by this time if he’s coming.”
Chelsea nodded and stretched out an arm to move a bowl of beer nuts closer to her.
“Well, I’ve got news for you, Harry. Amanda, Stacy and I are opening up our own freelance diving business. Taking over from mom and dad. “
“Oh – dive boat?” said Harry.
“No…hopefully not. We’re looking more toward just diving, helping people excavate submerged sites, find shipwrecks, that kind of thing. We’ll be getting business cards printed up in the next day or two.”
“Well, congratulations,” said Harry. “I’ll put the word around.”
“Thanks.”
Harry caught the eye of a customer and hurried away.
Chelsea twisted on her stool so she could take a good look at the inhabitants of the bar. There were a lot of couples, she noted…and very few single men hanging about. And none of those who were single aroused her interest…too young or too old. Chelsea’s taste didn’t go for young men – guys her age weren’t really men at all, most of ‘em, but still boys trying to find their way in the world. She preferred guys who had filled out a little, both physically and mentally. Someone in his late twenties or early thirties, for choice.
But tonight seemed like the invasion of the college kids…
Well, that was all right. She’d go back home…probably arrive in time to watch the rest of The Abyss with Stacy. Or perhaps she would challenge her parents to a game of scrabble…
Chelsea finished her beer, and stood up.
Harry, who had been down at the other end of the bar talking with a customer, walked quickly over to her.
“Feel like diving the Bimini Road tomorrow?” he asked.
“Of course,” said Chelsea, without hesitation. “Why?”
“There’s a guy over there. Newbie. He was told this was the place to come to find divers who knew every inch of the water around here. He wants you to escort him around the Road tomorrow.”
“Fantastic, Harry. I’ll go talk to him.” She had followed Harry’s gesture toward the end of the bar, where a man – in his thirties, she guessed – held up a hand in greeting.
“Want another beer?” asked Harry.
“Sure. Just one more, I think. Send it down to the end of the bar. And one for the newbie, too. On me.”
“Right.”
That evening, Amanda broke out her laptop and did some more work on the website she’d been designing ever since her parents told her of their plans to gift them with the boat, and provide start-up financing for their freelance dive business.
Chelsea and Stacy relaxed in their own individual ways. Chelsea was the outgoing one of the duo, the one who could, wherever they were, go into a sports bar to cheer on her teams (the Florida Marlins and the Miami Dolphins) on a regular basis, and make new friends at the drop of a hat. Stacy, on the other hand, was more of a loner, unhappy in large groups.
Stacy, therefore, chose to spend the rest of her birthday on board the Scylla and Charybdis, relaxing in her cabin (the yacht was a live-aboard with six cabins) and watching her favorite movies, James Mason’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and then The Abyss.
Chelsea went out to the Red Rum night club. Bimini was a popular tourist spot. There were many night clubs, some free standing, others within resort complexes where guests from cruise ships stayed. The Red Rum night club was a small, intime club, frequented typically only by scuba divers.
Stacy, dressed in a black t-shirt and black cargo shorts, entered the Red Rum and looked around. A steel band was playing in one corner, there were a few people on the dance floor, and a few people at the bar.
“Beer please, Harry,” Chelsea requested, snagging a stool. “Anyone around?”
“Hi, Chelsea,” said Harry with a warm smile. She’d known Harry for two years, ever since she’d turned 18, the legal age for drinking on Bimini, and indeed, throughout the Bahamas. She – and her sisters – had been attending university on the mainland for the last two years, but made frequent trips back home – their parents had run a successful dive boat operation in the area for the last 20 years, until their retirement…official today!
“You just missed Carl and Piet, they went out with a couple of girls a few minutes ago. I haven’t seen Terry yet. He’s usually in by this time if he’s coming.”
Chelsea nodded and stretched out an arm to move a bowl of beer nuts closer to her.
“Well, I’ve got news for you, Harry. Amanda, Stacy and I are opening up our own freelance diving business. Taking over from mom and dad. “
“Oh – dive boat?” said Harry.
“No…hopefully not. We’re looking more toward just diving, helping people excavate submerged sites, find shipwrecks, that kind of thing. We’ll be getting business cards printed up in the next day or two.”
“Well, congratulations,” said Harry. “I’ll put the word around.”
“Thanks.”
Harry caught the eye of a customer and hurried away.
Chelsea twisted on her stool so she could take a good look at the inhabitants of the bar. There were a lot of couples, she noted…and very few single men hanging about. And none of those who were single aroused her interest…too young or too old. Chelsea’s taste didn’t go for young men – guys her age weren’t really men at all, most of ‘em, but still boys trying to find their way in the world. She preferred guys who had filled out a little, both physically and mentally. Someone in his late twenties or early thirties, for choice.
But tonight seemed like the invasion of the college kids…
Well, that was all right. She’d go back home…probably arrive in time to watch the rest of The Abyss with Stacy. Or perhaps she would challenge her parents to a game of scrabble…
Chelsea finished her beer, and stood up.
Harry, who had been down at the other end of the bar talking with a customer, walked quickly over to her.
“Feel like diving the Bimini Road tomorrow?” he asked.
“Of course,” said Chelsea, without hesitation. “Why?”
“There’s a guy over there. Newbie. He was told this was the place to come to find divers who knew every inch of the water around here. He wants you to escort him around the Road tomorrow.”
“Fantastic, Harry. I’ll go talk to him.” She had followed Harry’s gesture toward the end of the bar, where a man – in his thirties, she guessed – held up a hand in greeting.
“Want another beer?” asked Harry.
“Sure. Just one more, I think. Send it down to the end of the bar. And one for the newbie, too. On me.”
“Right.”
Saturday, September 4, 2010
1. Scylla and Charybdis: Sutton sisters
Three personal watercraft zoomed across the crystal blue waters from Miami, Florida to the island of Bimini, a journey of some 50 miles which takes a couple of hours depending on the weather.
The front rider, on her Waverunner Cruiser, was Amanda Sutton, the eldest of the three Sutton sisters, at 22 years of age. She was clad in a white one-piece swimsuit, although the splendid figure it revealed was obscured by a sleek, bright-yellow lifevest.
Flanking her on the left was her sister, Chelsea , wearing a blue one-piece, and on Chelsea’s right was her twin, clad in red, Stacy. They were both 20 years old, riding Sea-doo RXTs, also wearing yellow lifevests.
The three sisters wore headsets and chatted between themselves as they drove across the ocean, riding in formation and keeping their eyes open for any interesting marine life that might cross their path.
Their watercraft were the top of the line, equipped with compasses, fresh water containers, transponders, repair kits, and enough horsepower to get them as far as they wanted to go, as fast as they wanted to get there.
When they reached North Bimini, they pulled into the harbor, tied up their PWCs at the pier, presented their identification to customs, and then walked into the harbor building where they were greeted with hugs by their parents.
They arrived at their home, and the three young women went around back to where several outdoor shower heads awaited them. Before they could start to take their showers, two of the three women stopped in shock. Their parent’s yacht, a 35-footer, had at one time been painted white. Now all of a sudden it was bright yellow, and the name had been changed to the Scylla and Charybdis.
“What’s going on?” demanded Chelsea.
“I know,” said Amanda. “It’s not fair. Scylla and Charybdis…that’s only two sea monsters. I wanted it to be the Sirens, or the Sea Hags, or even the Sea Witches, but Mom insisted on Scylla and Charybdis. You and Stacy will have to decide which of you is which.”
“You mean…they’re giving us their boat?”
“Yep. Us as in all three of us, mark you.”
“Yes, of course, Amanda, you’re the captain as always! But, they’re giving us their boat???”
“Yes, and the business. We are now officially freelance divers. Have scuba tanks and boat, will travel.”
“Oh, my god,” said Stacy, “This is like the best birthday present ever.”
“It gets better,” said Amanda. “There’s a cake inside. Made in the shape of a galleon…dad IM-ed me the pictures. It looked delicious, and I’m starving. Let’s go!”
The front rider, on her Waverunner Cruiser, was Amanda Sutton, the eldest of the three Sutton sisters, at 22 years of age. She was clad in a white one-piece swimsuit, although the splendid figure it revealed was obscured by a sleek, bright-yellow lifevest.
Flanking her on the left was her sister, Chelsea , wearing a blue one-piece, and on Chelsea’s right was her twin, clad in red, Stacy. They were both 20 years old, riding Sea-doo RXTs, also wearing yellow lifevests.
The three sisters wore headsets and chatted between themselves as they drove across the ocean, riding in formation and keeping their eyes open for any interesting marine life that might cross their path.
Their watercraft were the top of the line, equipped with compasses, fresh water containers, transponders, repair kits, and enough horsepower to get them as far as they wanted to go, as fast as they wanted to get there.
When they reached North Bimini, they pulled into the harbor, tied up their PWCs at the pier, presented their identification to customs, and then walked into the harbor building where they were greeted with hugs by their parents.
They arrived at their home, and the three young women went around back to where several outdoor shower heads awaited them. Before they could start to take their showers, two of the three women stopped in shock. Their parent’s yacht, a 35-footer, had at one time been painted white. Now all of a sudden it was bright yellow, and the name had been changed to the Scylla and Charybdis.
“What’s going on?” demanded Chelsea.
“I know,” said Amanda. “It’s not fair. Scylla and Charybdis…that’s only two sea monsters. I wanted it to be the Sirens, or the Sea Hags, or even the Sea Witches, but Mom insisted on Scylla and Charybdis. You and Stacy will have to decide which of you is which.”
“You mean…they’re giving us their boat?”
“Yep. Us as in all three of us, mark you.”
“Yes, of course, Amanda, you’re the captain as always! But, they’re giving us their boat???”
“Yes, and the business. We are now officially freelance divers. Have scuba tanks and boat, will travel.”
“Oh, my god,” said Stacy, “This is like the best birthday present ever.”
“It gets better,” said Amanda. “There’s a cake inside. Made in the shape of a galleon…dad IM-ed me the pictures. It looked delicious, and I’m starving. Let’s go!”
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
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