Something in a woman's gaze can draw you into her very being. If it happens, don't question her motives but simply enjoy the ride. She may offer herself to you only once in a lifetime.
Scene One
He felt the hull shudder as each row of whitecaps met the bow. The noise created by the crashing of the seawater combined with the engine's drone made conversation all but impossible. Twenty-odd minutes to the dive site translated into more of the same, so he busied himself like the others tightening the first stage to the tank's fitting and checking the air pressure load. A fill of 3K psi or more was always a good omen for the first of a two-tank morning. Today, the gauge registered 3.1K. The boat driver slowed the engine near the first of several site markers, signaling the time for all of them to dress and get ready for the plunge. He'd signed on as a single, as usual, and was introduced to his diving partner, a young accountant from San Francisco with only an admitted seven dives to her credit. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for her in the event of any trouble, but the dive master leading this small group of six would be doing the same – Eduardo had said as much to him in confidence earlier that morning.
Gear in place and tank air turned on, his fins slapped the deck as he moved to the stern and the launching platform. Hand across the mouthpiece with two fingers extended to his mask, he kicked outward with one fin, and, pushing off with the left, he joined the others who'd gone before.
Swimming back to the platform, one of them handed him the camera rig, and he slipped the safety lanyard over his wrist. Now the procedure he'd followed countless times before: dive computer punched 'On,' camera strobe light 'On,' check the RS-1 settings, tighten weight belt and vest straps again, and dump air from the BC.
The choppy surface closed over him with air releasing from his bouyancy vest as lead weights pulled him downward to the sandy shelf, below. Just past the thirty-foot depth, he felt the all-too-familiar surge of pressure to the ears and a cotton-dry mouth unable to swallow for equalization. "I'm getting too old for this nonsense...and pain." Then, just as suddenly, ears and sinuses cleared, and he dropped slowly to the rendezvous point where the others were waiting for the divemaster to begin another all-too-brief exploration of the reef. Settling into a comfortable neutral bouyancy, he leveled out in search of his diving buddy, and finding her with others in the group, he followed their guide into a sand chute that led to the outer wall.
Darkness prevailed as each one of them entered the tunnel in single file. Small pools of bright yellow appeared here and there, as divers used their flashlights in hopes of finding a lobster or two clinging to the sides. Moving carefully now, he noticed the cavern sides widening, and instantly there was an expanse of blue water everywhere. He turned slowly and took in the spectacular colors and shapes of coral that were growing from the near-vertical wall. He thought to himself that this was always the best part. His depth gauge read 84 feet, and his tank held nearly 2400 psi of air, while his wrist computer displayed a favorable nitrogen reading. His breathing slowed as he luxuriated in silent weightlessness, the sweet envelopment. And he thought about her and events of the past forty-eight hours.
Scene Two
There had been rain showers the night before that carried into the early hours of morning, and now the sun was battling with the remaining clouds adding the heaviness of humidity to the air. The hotel's outdoor breakfast pavilion was already humming with voices when he arrived and was shown to his favorite table at the side. Photography was his primary goal for today, and he'd made arrangements to have the U/W camera fitted with a 20mm lens and strobe. However, the lingering cloud cover could easily defeat any plans to capture the brilliant colors of these shallow reefs, and his thoughts shifted instead to exploring the local waters with mask and snorkel.
His daydreaming was interrupted when a chair leg scraped the tile floor. A young couple had just taken a center table nearby. Lifting his coffee cup and tasting its sudden heat, his mind tried to get back to deciding whether to attempt U/W filming or.... Something about her profile; striking, yet delicate...and the tempered gold of her skin. Turning toward their table just as they rose together for the buffet, he noticed the equally striking profile of her figure. Her body was clothed in the tailored fit of a fashionable sweat suit. The two of them had the appearance of those who take great pains to keep themselves in shape. He paused to consider how fortunate was he that this dark-haired woman was now a part of the local color; his meals would certainly be more enjoyable with her added presence. And with that, he got back to planning the day's events and, accordingly, the remainder of his shortened holiday.
A bit later, he was at the buffet bar attempting to choose between croissant and cut fruit when he noticed the filled glass of juice someone had left on the rail. A hand appeared to reach for it, and, quite mechanically, he slid the glass gently in that direction. He heard, "Merci!" and he responded politely, "Ne rien...." He turned in the direction of her voice in time to see her parted lips form a smile as she collected her omelet and breads and juice and returned with her companion (husband, lover?) to their table. He thought her beauty was more captivating than he'd first imagined, and he stood there longer than necessary selecting unwanted slices of fruit and filling a plate, wondering who she was. There was something different, even alluring, about this woman. It wasn't until voices erupted close to his side that he snapped out of the dream-like trance and moved away from the breakfast bar. Now seated again, he glanced quietly in the direction of their table only to find them enjoying their breakfast and entirely engrossed with each other. So he let it go.
He decided against diving that day, relishing the idea of snorkeling off the hotel's beach on his own, and working his way through a few more chapters of the awful novel he'd bought at Heathrow. After draining a last cup of morning coffee, he walked to the dive center to let them know he wasn't going, then took a longer-than-usual walk to his room to change for the beach. His route took him past the glass-enclosed fitness room, and, as he glanced in that direction, he made out the young couple from breakfast now peddling away on their stationary bikes. Walking past, he glanced away, then back again only to find that her eyes were following him. No, it wasn't his imagination he told himself. Her guy was facing straight ahead and working away at some imaginary hill, while she slowed and locked her eyes to his, almost...yes, beckoning him. And that unexplained sense of subconscious connection he'd felt earlier that morning came over him again. He couldn't deny the sudden sensation that surged in his groin, nor did he want to, despite his complete inability to understand what had come over him.
Scene Three
Rain-dampened sand clung to his feet as he made his way across the empty beachfront to a shaded lounge chair. Volcanic rock had been removed at one point to permit easy entry to the water and the shallow reef beyond. He noticed there was only one other couple on the beach that morning. One of them was reclining in the half shade of a thatched palapa; the other with chaise turned to take the sun's full glow. Then he stopped mid-stride realizing it was the young woman and her male companion from breakfast. All the better that neither of them had seen him, and, wishing to get into the water to clear his head, he carried fins, mask and snorkel to the sandy entryway, dunked his gear in the lapping water, and sat in the shallows to put it all on.
Send to your friend
