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.
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