Chapter 28: Round the Rocks with Pauline

Swimming on SCUBA over 200 metres of flat sandy bottom is not most divers idea of an exciting time, but as we swam out towards the rocks bordering the bay, Pauline was clearly entranced. She stopped several times to examine the various creatures we came across as they went about their lives, burrowing into the sand, moving over it, filtering seawater for the plankton it contains, or actively seeking larger prey. I kept a close eye on her.

Biologizing is all very well, and I do it all the time while I am on or in the water. But I have been diving for more than fifty years, and my safety routines are so well practiced that they have become automatic. I monitor my buoyancy every few moments and adjust it to stay neutral, and I check depth and tank pressure every thirty breaths or so. In the shallow waters of my bay that is ridiculous, but it is a very good habit to have, because in our general area there are lots of places where a careless diver could find themselves dangerously deep, short of air, and in big trouble as a result. Just as with boating and rowing, Pauline was a natural. She remained engrossed in her surroundings, but also checked her gauges regularly, and adjusted her buoyancy as necessary.

Not far off the beach, we spooked a flounder lying buried in the sand. Pauline started as it took off like a rocket in a small cloud of sediment three feet from her mask. She appeared delighted (as far as I could tell behind a mask and regulator mouthpiece) when I showed her how they habitually circle back through the cloud they have kicked up to settle into the sand again not too far from their original position as this one did.

There were one or two quite tiny juvenile snapper grubbing around in the eelgrass and sediment in the bay proper. They were apparently indifferent to our presence and continued to go about their business until we were quite close, and we were swimming around the kelp and other seaweed growing on the rocks before we saw anything anywhere near legal size. The larger snapper kept their distance from us, and appeared as pale, almost ghostly shadows at the limits of visibility. Sometimes all we could see were their iridescent spots.

It was a cruisy dive. Pauline kept stopping to look at each new creature she noticed, from the bright orange sponges attached to the rocks among the holdfasts that anchor the kelp, to the kina grazing the algal film on the rocks, and nibbling away at any seaweed they could reach. She was fascinated when I gingerly picked one up and turned the softball sized ball of spines over to show her the mouth underneath. The only drama was relatively minor.

There is a gut out at the point, where the softer rock between two ancient intrusions of very hard solidified lava has been eroded away over the last 20 million years. The hard rock remains as two ridges about 25 ft below the surface and 20ft apart, with the underwater ‘valley’ between them 10ft deeper. The ridges are covered in kelp and other seaweeds, and the ‘valley’ has a sandy bottom. Pauline was in the lead as we went over the first ridge. She didn’t see the big stingray partially buried in the sand until she was almost directly over the top of it. Neither did I, until it exploded up off the bottom in a cloud of sediment and flapping wings. Pauline reared back.

Fair enough – a short-tailed ray is up to six feet long and five wide. Two hundred pounds plus. And this was a big one. Impressive enough when seen and approached from a comfortable distance, but more than impressive when it is very suddenly four feet away and coming up from underneath you fast. I was concerned about what might happen if Pauline panicked. We had talked about the danger of breath holding while coming up, and here was a classic situation where a novice diver might do exactly that. I thought about grabbing one of her fins, but by the time I had moved close enough to intervene, the drama was over. The ray flapped off seaward into the green water, Pauline levelled out and got her breathing under control, and I made a mental note to discuss the incident in our debrief.

We stooged around the rocks, stopping to watch the various species of wrasse going about their business, and checking out various holes and nooks and crannies on the off chance that there might be a migratory cray taking refuge there. No joy – but I couldn’t realistically expect any. Eventually even Pauline had had enough and we swam back to the beach without incident.

I was pleased we had brought the car down. I was tired, and so was Pauline. We demounted and rinsed the gear, showered together and shed our suits, and after some slightly sexy play with my hairdryer on our respective bits, had a very late lunch and then snuggled naked in my bed for a debrief.

“I freaked when I saw the ray move. I was just about on top of it. Aren’t they dangerous? Didn’t one kill Steve Irwin?”

“Sometimes, and yes. Steve was doing a ‘Crocodile Dundee’ number with a big ray for Aussi TV and it speared him in the heart. But generally rays don’t bother SCUBA divers.” Pauline snuggled closer.

“I read they steal fish from spearos.”

“Yup, Not in my time, but I understand that these days they compete with sharks to steal fish off a string. We used to tow a small float and put the fish we had speared on a string underneath it. These days spearos get what they spear out of the water and onto a big float asap.”

“How would they spear you anyway? The spine is on the tail.”

“They hump their back and bring their tail forward to strike in front of their head. In ‘threat mode’, they swim with their back already humped.” Pauline giggled.

“Speaking of spearing and humping!” She reached down to caress my junk.

That was the end of the debrief. Neither of us were feeling particularly energetic – I have found SCUBA diving more physically demanding as I have aged, and even though her new gear is lighter than mine, Pauline is a lot smaller and weaker than I am, so we were both pretty tired. We lay together and she toyed with me until I got hard enough so she could ride me as I dealt to her nipples, but it was slow and gentle rather than energetic and passionate. Pauline got off with a couple of little orgasms, sighing and trembling and working her pelvic muscles around me, but I didn’t feel I needed to cum, and eventually softened. She needed reassurance.

“Was that ok?” She pulled away far enough to eyeball me. “You don’t seem to turn on to me as much as you used to!”

“I turn on just as much, but we’ve just had a SCUBA dive, and swum nearly half a mile in full gear. We had a bit of excitement and I’m not twenty-five anymore.” I took a breath and thought for a moment. “I’m in my seventies. I was out of the game for seventeen years, but that still leaves nearly forty years as a player. I’ve been intimate to various degrees with an awful lot of women and loved half a dozen very deeply. But what I am developing with you is different and on a more intimate and intense level than anything I have experienced before. We are playing around with “I love you” and what that might or might not mean, and I guess we’ll work that out more fully as we go along.” Pauline cut across me.

“You don’t think I’m neurotic?” I took a risk.

“Yup. But I am too! But it’s fine for either of us to ask for reassurance whenever we feel uncertain.” My answer was slightly dismissive, and didn’t quite address her issue. Pauline had been toying with my sparse pubes, but she suddenly grabbed my balls and squeezed just hard enough to get my full and immediate attention. I gasped in surprise.