Chapter 4

The sun is climbing towards its mid-day zenith. I am glad of the shade here on the decking. I am relaxed, breathing deeply in the aftermath of my dream. All I can do now is wait.

The first hint, a flash of reflected sunlight low on the horizon draws my eye. I train my Zeiss binoculars on it, see a mast slowly rising from the ocean. The full sails are soon in view, billowing in the strong on-shore breeze, and I recognise Sea Nymph II, Sara's yacht. I stand and wave, a ridiculous gesture at this distance but an immediate connection to her.

The wait seems like hours, as I anticipate our greeting. Then your blue hull is nosing into the lagoon. I watch you busy on board, dropping your sails, your momentum keeping you under way. Now my wave is answered. I drop my Aviators on the small table and stroll down the beach. I hear the double splash as anchor and sailor hit the water in quick succession. I watch your effortless front crawl draw you to the shallows.

You stand, water glistening on your brown skin. I pull my t-shirt over my head and walk towards you, into the surf. We are both speechless, our greetings expressed only through our eyes. A silent embrace, a moment's stillness, and I feel the familiar shape of your body press against mine. I step back, take your hand and turn towards the beach.

"Come, my love." I lead you from the shallows, across the hot sand, up the beach towards the hut. On the veranda, I take a towel, gently dry your skin. We step inside the hut, through the living area, to the back. I guide you from behind. As we enter the sleeping area, what we christened the "boudoir" on our last visit, I lean forward, whisper in your right ear, "I must have you now!"

My arms embrace you. My hands cup your breasts. My damp bikini presses against your bottom. My kiss lands on your neck, where it meets your right shoulder. You see the bed is made with crisp, fresh linen sheets, brilliant white.

I turn you, embracing you again. Then my hands are on your shoulders, gently pressing you down onto the bed. I bend and kiss your mouth, my tongue exploring yours in its own greeting ritual. I push you back, down onto the pillows. The kiss lingers, my hands stroke your breasts, then lower. One reaches down your belly, between your legs, making you part them a little more. I cup and gently squeeze your mound. My fingers start to press between your lips, opening you. Your hands reach for me.

"Wait!" I whisper. You hear the urgency in my voice, feel it in my exploring fingers already inside you.

I disengage. I stand back to look at you. "Don't move!" My eyes take in every aspect of your beauty. "It has been too long!" I step out of my bikini. I move to the bed, lower myself to kneel beside you. I push your legs wider and kneel between your thighs. I reach forward, take your nipples in my fingers. Gently pull, gently squeeze, gently twist.

Again, with slightly more force. You gasp, your arms reach for me. I shake my head and you understand to withdraw. Again, and harder this time, drawing a low moan from you. I lean forward, lick and kiss your right nipple. Your left. I slowly slide down in the bed, my lips gliding across your belly, to your smooth mound. My tongue enters your slit. You are warm, already wet. I taste you, a memory stronger than Proust's madeleines. I find your pearl. My buried treasure. My tongue licks you, gently flicks across, up and down.

You raise your hips, offering more of yourself to my mouth. My arms reach up, my fingers again play your nipples. In rhythm with my tongue. I feel your body tense as I bring you closer to your climax. Your breathing sharper, your moans more insistent. I am drawing this bubble from you, closer and closer to the surface. My fingers, my lips, my tongue. And then it bursts, you thrust your hips against my mouth, your fingers grasp my hair.

And you subside. Falling away from me. I lie beside you, kiss your lips, let you taste yourself. I whisper, "Now sleep, my love!" And I fold you in my arms.