Chapter 3

Driving on the beach road toward the Mermaid, they admired the shimmering moonlit surf. With no other cars on the road he drove without headlights.

"Ashley, that woman just rubbed herself all over you when you danced," she laughed.

"Oh Miss Scarlet, Stephanie has her ways," he replied.

"Stephanie must be a very close friend," she went on.

"I thought for a while that we might find a real relationship, but she's too scared of being close to someone. We went skiing and to the islands, and we would have a wonderful time for about three days. Then unexpectedly she would pick a fight and want to go home. That created a safe distance for her. I thought I had done something wrong each time, but my shrink said that if it happened so consistently it was her problem, not mine."

"You never did anything wrong?"

"Of course I did, but they were never associated with her outbursts.

"The shrink told me that it was a mild or serious case of bipolar disorder, and talented though I was, I couldn't fix it. Even worse, she couldn't fix it either. I finally figured out that she just couldn't stand the pressure of being close to someone. When she had those spells, I would send her off by herself for a few hours or a day, and she would come back delighted to see me again. It was always a disappointment because we enjoyed the same things, even kinky movies, and I liked her."

"Did you love her and see her often?"

"I could have loved her real self, but not the vacillations between love and hate. I see her every couple of months unless I have someone with more promise. She has a lot of talent," he sighed.

No matter what you ask, Sheila, he seems to answer straight and in depth. Why?

As he parked the car under the house, he said, "I never like to go to bed with dry feet. Want to splash surf?"

A beautiful night and I enjoy his company. "Yes, I would. Let me get some shorts."

She returned in her cut-offs and tee-shirt, and then as they walked in the surf, she probed, "You said you were looking for a permanent relationship and didn't find it with Stephanie. You're now dating my stepmother who is married. Would you look for a permanent relationship with her?" she asked.

"I look for a permanent relationship with all women I date more than three or four times, unless it is explicit between us that we're casual."

"Are you and Marcia serious or casual?"

"When we worked on a project together, the tension and stress called for relief and we played for a weekend. That trip started many sparks and we were hot for a while. But, it takes a long time to convert a married woman to a serious relationship. By now, we seem to have given up on each other in that way, so we both continue to amuse ourselves with what nature offers. She was coming here for the weekend to be amused.

"Sheila, how do you feel about joining her assignation at the beach?"

The long silence gave them time to appreciate the iridescent glow of moonlight on the foam, "She was my friend when I needed one and though we are no longer as close, I like her. We have fun together. I have always been confused by my mother's actions, sometimes shocked by my father, and tolerant of Marcia."

"How did you graduate without some guy marrying you and taking you away? You are too much to be ignored."

I guess we're being honest, here. "Well, the one I really wanted asked someone else. I brushed it off as a commercial transaction since her father was wealthy, but it hurt. The ones who asked, I didn't want. In marketing, we call it consumer choice."

They splashed the warm surf barefoot. He held her hand. She interlaced their fingers and smiled at him. Though too distant to hear, a line of large thunderstorms defined the horizon with intense lightning flashes adding a vivid sparkle to the surf. As they stood in the ankle-deep water, she felt the small waves lick around her ankles and found it erotic.

While washing sand from their feet in the outdoor shower, Sheila leaned against him as she warmed to the moment and said, "Greg, I know that you didn't expect me, but you gave me a beautiful ending to what started as a dreadful day. It's the best date I have had in many months. Thank you."

Her smile gave him butterflies as he struggled for words. "As it turned out, I'm delighted you came a day early. I worked really hard this week. You extracted my mind from a real rut. May I have a hug?"

Sheila hugged him with strong arms for a long time, and then gently he put his fingers under her chin, lifted her lips to his starving mouth, and kissed her deeply. Then he let her go. "Good night, Sheila. You're good company!" She went to her room.

Well. That was all right, but weren't you a little passive?

As he carried the garbage out he saw that her light was off. I wonder if she sleeps nude? He imagined her naked body sprawled on the bed clutching a pillow and collapsed from the day's stress.

Needing to get his mind off her so that he could sleep, he opened his trashy novel to put the vision of her aside. He was soon deeply involved with the exploits of the super detective. After a while, he let the book drop and admitted that he really liked that woman. For the first time in a good while, he felt a strong emotional attachment to her, which, added to his lust for her, made him uncomfortably vulnerable.

He dwelled on her body and the feel of her on the dance floor, then, the first lightning strike hit so unexpectedly within a half-mile, and the sharp thunderclap jarred the dishes and windows. The lights went out briefly as his heart pounded from the adrenaline rush. After a few more pages turned with shaky hands, he heard more loud thunder as the strong wind smashed heavy rain against the windows and deck. More sharp thunder cracked like the main gun on a battle tank.

Having been completely distracted by her, he had ignored the obvious tie down needs. He put on his trunks and left the detective on the bedside table. He checked quickly outside for loose stuff, then bolted the beachside door and started downstairs to secure things there just as the lights went out. He praised the power company with a loud "Aw, shit!" located his flashlight then went down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, a long flash of lightning revealed Sheila huddled on the floor sobbing in the corner.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked urgently.

"I can't stand lightning!" she shrieked.

"I'm going to secure outside and will be right back," he said.

Soaked from the blowing rain, he tied the garbage cans and closed the locker doors, then ran back inside and grabbed a towel.

Sitting beside her, he asked, "Okay, what is it?'

"I'm scared. I can't stand lightning and thunder that close," she sobbed.

"I can't either, so come here," and pulled her against his soaked body. He finally retrieved her towel from her bathroom and dried her off as best he could. Tiring of floor sitting, he said, "Come with me," in a tone that was not a request but a command.

It worked. She stopped sobbing and as she slowly got up, he put his arm around her and pulled her up the stairs amidst the constant lightning. Each one caused her to wince. He led her to his room and covered her with the bedspread. Then, he closed the door and the storm curtains, reducing the lightning to a mere flicker. Fumbling and swearing at the flashlight, he found the eye mask and ear plugs from a recent overseas flight.

Uncovering her head, he ordered, "Put this mask on and these plugs in your ears." She obeyed, then returned her head under the pillow.

He found a towel and a dry pair of briefs. Then, lying on the bed, he gave her a strong bear hug and just held on. After a while, a regular breathing rhythm replaced her shallow pant and her pulse was way down. She still flinched on the really loud thunder.

He massaged the full length of her back and shoulders continuously, and she gradually began to relax. The thunder quieted some, but the storm was far from over. To relieve the strain on his arms he rolled on his back and pulled her with him. She followed easily.

My God, he'll think I'm some kind of child or psycho. Though ashamed to let him see her fear, she sought the comfort of his arms around her. He can't protect you from the lightning by holding you. But, when he moved, she put her head on his shoulder and snuggled. With her eyes and ears blocked, her nose soon found his aroma and she was more at ease. She vaguely remembered absurd information from biology class about the body aroma of males doing something to menstrual cycles. The storm was suddenly far away and she finally relaxed.

After a while, he whispered close to her plugged ear, "I think the storm's about over. Are you feeling okay?"

She could barely speak, but said, "I'm fine. Just fine. I'm going to take these out," and then removed her blindfold and ear plugs.

"Do you mind if I open the window? It gets stuffy in here with no air conditioning."

"That would feel good," she said.

Looking out at the moon, he said, "It turned into a lovely night."

She said dryly, "It certainly didn't start that way."

"I know that it must have been a dreadful trauma." After a pause, "When you're comfortable, tell me about the storm that scared you." He led her slowly back to the bed.

Her love-hate feelings for him both grew — loving the relaxation and attention and hating the uncertainty. After a minute or two of silence, with love barely ahead, she blurted, "Just when Kevin and I started rock climbing on a Colorado mountain pass, the first lightning and thunder followed quickly. It hit a tree about 30 yards away and knocked it down on fire. The thunder was deafening and my hair stood up and Kevin was still up on the rock. He rappelled down quickly, but the flashes came again and again, and we didn't know where to go."

He felt her entire body stiffen during the story and kept his arms around her rubbing her tense back. She kept talking for several minutes, and her tears were profuse.

"It scared us so much and we had no place to run. I remembered not to go into the woods, so we pulled the tablecloth and backpacks over us and stayed in a low place on the cold ground. The hailstones hurt and bruised us and the lightning would not stop. It was so loud and scary. Then the icy water started coming down the hill in our ditch. Lightning scares the hell out of me when it's so close."

Just the description of the icy water and noise made him shudder. He continued pressing deeply and said, "Just hearing about it makes me nervous. How long ago?" Her warm tears were running down his chest, and he tried to hold her closer.

"Almost six months." I think I have talked about this long enough I'm repeating myself. I must stop crying and get it together. That feels so good when he rubs my back.

At the first pause, he asked, "Could you write about your feelings and experiences?"

"Why write?"

"My shrink made me do that. Writing helps to get it behind you. There are specialists who treat post traumatic stress syndrome," he offered.

He held her close to him and asked, "Can you sleep, now?"

She seemed to relax, and then, "I think so," yawned, stretched, and said, "Yes, I think so," and with no more thought cuddled against him. Uh, this is not your bed! When did you ever feel more comfortable and cared for?

His gentle strokes on her back and arms made her relax, as her breathing was regular. As the strokes continued, she began a slight shiver and felt quite sensual. With his hand under her pajama top, his fingers lightly went from her lower back to her neck, then down her arm, then up the other side of her arm, then the fingernails on his spread fingers going down her back barely touching her skin in her armpit and left chill bumps as he passed erogenous zones on her back and arms. Her feeling of comfort gave way to desire, and she felt the first wetness and swelling. He pulled her over to face him. He put his arms around her. As she reflexively put her arms around him in response, she felt his smooth skin all over his back. Maybe I have felt this before, but his skin is outstanding! I'd better stop — this is too much.

Then, he rolled on his back and brought her with him. As she rolled on her side, she put her leg across his thigh and her arm across his chest, which was the only place for it and her head rested on his shoulder. But she had waited too long to stop. Just as his fingernails and caresses continued on her back, her instinctive pelvic thrust pushed her mons against his hard leg, and her swollen clitoris delivered the first electric shock. She trembled from the contact and then her hips thrust again. He sensed the change from relaxation to sexual excitement. He intentionally made his strokes on her back lighter and made his fingernails tickle. He stroked the most sensitive places on her skin with special care. Her closeness and breathing provoked his base urges. He found her puffy mouth and kissed her. She responded in kind.

The combination of the passionate kiss and the fingernails down her back, made her lose control. The explosion deep inside her made her hold him, thrusting repeatedly, moaning until the throbbing stopped. Belatedly, she realized that she had squeezed his chest and locked her legs around his thigh.

Strong desire swept through his crotch when he felt the hot, wet mons against his thigh. Kiss her again! Her surprise orgasm intensified his desire. As she recovered, she discovered that her wetness had gone through her pajamas onto his leg.

That was some surprise. All he did was hold you and kiss you and you came all over him. Well, there is always a first time. He thinks you're a tramp! Didn't expect to be here did you?

As she settled back to normal breathing, he said softly, "I'm glad the power came back on. We have food in the refrigerator. I'd better close the windows." The excitement and humidity left moist dew on her body.

Oh, yes, we?

Sheila could feel herself trying to awaken after a while, vaguely aware of Greg's breathing and that she was still wrapped around him. A dim glow under the door guided her into the bathroom. As she sat, I can like now be in my own room. Then she saw the wet crotch of her pajamas. I don't want to wear these. As she said that she sniffed the musky aroma of her own excitement. I'll go to the other bed.

Her loud flush competed with the surf noise as the tide sought to regain its pinnacle. She went to her room to confront the messy bed where she had been initially scared. Shit. I'm not staying here alone. I'll get some clean panties and go back.

She found some cotton athletic panties. These are underwear. Anyway, they cover more than my bikini bottom. Where's my fucking retainer? Got it. Do it. Sheila, you have a perfectly good bed here with a locking door. Are you sure you want him to see you in those ugly cotton things? What is on your mind? Are you really going back up there to sleep with a man you don't even know? Then, she took her makeup kit and went upstairs.

When she came back to the room he was looking through the window at the brilliant moonlight — tall, trim, muscular. He looks good. In his bathroom, she pushed some of his toilet stuff over so that she would have a place for hers. Nothing but bright moonlight shimmered on the surf.

He gave her a big smile as she walked over beside him wearing her tee-shirt and cotton panties. He put his arm around her for a short time before they traded places. She watched moonlit surf and he moved to the bathroom. Maybe I weathered the storm.

When he returned, he hugged her and led her back to the bed. "I think it's time for sleep."

You came up here on purpose. What did you want? I think you want to be held and comforted. Can you admit that?