Caroline at the Beach

29... 30. It was time.

I waded into the moonlit waters of the Gulf of Mexico. The water was warm on my legs, my stomach, my chest as I headed along the path Caroline had given me. It didn't take too long to find her.

She was floating still in the water, her tan back, the royal blue spaghetti strap of her bikini. Her hair was spilt on the water. Her hands and legs hung down into the wet warmth.

I put an arm over her back and rolled her toward me. It was harder than I thought it would be. Her right arm, the one farthest from me when it dangled in the water, fell across her stomach as I turned her. I tossed the arm over my shoulder so that it fell into the water behind me with a splash. I felt her hook the waist of my bathing suit with her thumb (our signal that she was OK) and then I felt it slide limply out.

She did not gasp as her face left the water; she breathed so gently, so softly, that her chest moved barely an inch.

I placed my left arm under Caroline's back, feeling the bikini strap and her cool skin against my arm, watching the water ripple between the bulges of her bikini top. I reached my right arm down to beneath her thighs and "lifted" her so that she floated in my arms. I began to walk, very slowly, back toward the beach.

Her hair trailed out behind our motion and some wet locks pasted themselves to my arm. I watched her quiet face, lit only by the moon, her lips parted, her eyes gently closed. I watched her lovely stomach as the water coursed over it with each step. I felt her bare waist touch my bare chest. I stared at her legs as they glistened in the night. There was only the sound of my breathing and the rippling, splashing of the water, the smell of the salt.

As the water became shallower, I felt her slide slowly down my chest to my stomach, and then I felt her weight increase on my arms. Her head fell slowly back as the water failed to support her. The puddle of hair around her shrank as we walked, until her long wet hair hung like a curtain and I could feel its damp softness against my leg as it gently swung with each step.

When the waves had fallen so that they crested below my knees, I stepped on a bit of driftwood, and together with that and the shifting sand, I lost my footing and Caroline and I fell. She did not cry out as she fell, she simply dropped limply into the waves, her dull splash mixing with mine. As I regained my feet, I saw her lying there, her arms out, her legs bent, her face turned toward the moon.

I watched her for a moment, then bent down and lifted her again. I felt her briefly hook my swimsuit again to indicate she was unhurt. We then continued on to the beach.

When the sand felt dry under my feet, I gently lay Caroline out onto the ground. She lay much as she did in the water, her arms out, her legs bent, her hips swivelled slightly away from me. I knelt beside her and carefully lifted her bare feet, first the right, then the left, caressing them as I straightened her legs and hips. On an impulse, I rolled her limp body onto her stomach, and ran my hand down her wet, sandy back, down to her legs, and finally over her heels. I heard her breathing get somewhat deeper, and when I returned her to her back, her face was flushed.

A moment later, I bent down, placing my ear very close to her parted lips. She held her breath and lay as still as death. I then placed my right hand beneath her neck, lifting her head so that her jaw opened wide, placed my left hand over her nose without pinching, and covered her mouth with mine.

I did not breathe into her -- Caroline doesn't like that -- but I felt her pull air in through her nostrils so that I could see her chest rise and fall just as if she were truly being resuscitated.

The beach had been deserted, but now came along a young couple, holding hands and walking by the waves. When they saw us, the woman shouted "Oh, my God!" and the man ran toward us. "Do you need any help?" he asked. "I'll go get help."

They took me by surprise, and so I just knelt there with my mouth open, but Caroline lifted her head from the sand and opened her eyes.

"No," she said sweetly, "I'm fine. It's just a game we like to play." She then dropped her head back onto the sand and lay there as limply as before.

The man returned to his girlfriend, and the two continued to walk down the beach. In a moment, I heard her laugh caustically and shout, "Not on your life!"

But it was Caroline who had my attention then. I lifted her again in my arms and carried her back to our cabin, a few yards up the beach. I lay her down on her side on the wood of the picnic table by the back porch and stepped around the side of the cabin for the water hose.

I rinsed off my legs and hands in the (thankfully warm) water and then carried the hose over to where Caroline lay. I knelt by her feet and gently rinsed the sand from them, gently rubbing as the water fell over them. I rolled her onto her stomach, careful that she did not fall or rub against the wood, and rinsed off her legs (lifting them and turning them as I went), her buttocks, her back, her arms, all the while gently rubbing free the wet sand with my hand. I rolled her over (carefully again) and rinsed off her chest, her stomach.

I set the hose down across her waist, so that the water ran down her thighs, and walked over to where we hung our beach towels. I dried myself, watching Caroline lie still (and flushed) beneath the running water. I then took her towel over to her. I wet a corner in the hose's stream and gently wiped her face. I put the towel over my shoulder, lifted the hose, and ran the warm water over her wondrous hair, which fell softly over the edge of the table, gently running my fingers through it as I worked.

I walked over to the side of the cabin again and turned off the tap. When I returned, Caroline still motionless and flushed, I began to dry her off with her towel -- all but her hair. I ran the soft terry over her legs and lovely feet, I lifted her into a sitting position as I dried her torso and arms.

I then plugged in the hair dryer we had left outside, turned it on "low" and began to dry her hair. Caroline says she loves this part. Soon her hair began to dance in the warm wind. I turned off the dryer, lifted her once again, and took her through the back door of the cabin.

What happened then is between Caroline and me.


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Copyright 2001.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.