was an outfit for wearing in private, not in front of strangers. She had a modest onepiece swimsuit for beaches and pools, but it was back in her apartment; she hadn’t foreseen any need to bring it along.
That’s because you don’t go swimming with neighbors, she thought. Right.
She considered changing into shorts and a T-shirt.
He already saw me in this. He’d think I’m nuts.
With a sigh, she put on her shirt as a cover-up. The shirt was long enough to drape the scanty bottom of her bikini. She buttoned it, brushed her short hair, then picked up her beer bottle and headed for the front door.
She removed the burglar bar. Having no key, she left the door unlocked.
She walked across Jerry’s yard and found him waiting at the open gate of his driveway. He was lean and dark. Instead of trunks, he wore an old pair of tan corduroys with the legs cut off.
“Glad you could come over,” he said.
“Who could refuse a swimming pool on a day like thins?”
He shut the gate. Gillian walked with him toward the rear.
“Enjoying the house-sitting?” he asked.
“It sure beats staying in my little apartment.”
“Does your apartment have a pool?”
Gillian nodded. “I never use it, though. There could be thirty people watching you from their windows. Not to mention an assorted variety of tenants who might decide to join in the fun.”
“Yeah. Know just what you mean.”
His pool was shimmering and clear, its surface flat in the still afternoon.
“Feel free to dive in,” Jerry said. “I think I’ll get myself a beer. Could you use another?”
Gillian squinted at her bottle. It was half-empty. “Sure, why not?”
She sat at the table under the shade of its broad umbrella while Jerry went into the house. She sipped her beer. Her hand trembled slightly and she felt her heart thumping. She looked at the house. From the rear, it seemed similar to Fredrick’s.
Bet it doesn’t come with a collection of sick magazines, she thought.
Or mirrors on the ceiling.
Not that I’d mind the mirrors.
She wished her heart would slow down.
Take it easy, she told herself. Relax.
The rear door slid open and Jerry came out with a bottle of beer in each hand. He sat at the table. He pushed a bottle across to her.
“Beck’s,” Gillian said, reading the label. “I like it.”
“What’s that you’re drinking?”
She slid the bottle toward him. “Corona. Have some. It’s okay, I don’t have any diseases.” As the words came out, she felt herself blush. That’s certainly laying the cards on the table, she thought.
Jerry drank from her bottle and nodded. “I’ll have to pick up some of this stuff.” He passed it back to her.
She drank the rest of it. “Uncle Fredrick has good taste in beer,” she said. “I can’t say the same for his taste in reading matter.”
“Oh?”
Careful, she thought. “He seems to go in for some pretty gruesome stuffy.”
“I guess we all have our quirks.”
“Does he seem all right to you?”
Jerry shrugged. “I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I really don’t know the man at all. I’ve said hi to him a couple of times when we’ve crossed paths, but that’s about the extent of it. He keeps to himself pretty much. So do I. Comes from all those years of apartment living, I think. The less I see of my neighbors, the better.”
“That’s why you poked your head over the fence and asked me over,” Gillian said, smiling.
He laughed. “That’s different.” He took a drink of beer and flinched slightly as the bottle dripped water onto his chest. Gillian watched the clear bead trickle down his skin, leaving a shiny trail. He smeared it with the flat of his hand.
“Are you on vacation?” he asked.
“Me? I’m on permanent vacation,” Gillian said. “I don’t do much in the way of work.”
“How nice for you. Wealthy family?”
“Dead family.”
His eyes widened.
Gillian felt a little shocked herself. Why am I telling him the truth about my family? she wondered. Would’ve been easier to lie. She always lied about her background.
“I shouldn’t be flippant about it. I’m sorry. But it’s been a few years and I usually don’t ... I usually just make up a story. The fact is, my parents were killed in a traffic accident. A deputy sheriff’s car lost its brakes while it was in hot pursuit of a robbery suspect and smashed into them. My parents’ attorney filed a wrongful-death suit on my behalf, and it was settled for a good sum. I’m pretty well. set up.” Gillian shrugged.
“I’m sorry about your folks.”
“Well, thanks. What is it that you do?”
“I design computer programs.”
“Ah, you must be a brain.”
“That’s me.” He laughed and took a drink of beer.
“What kind of programs?”
“I specialize in weapons systems.”
“You mean like for missiles?”
“Something like that.”
“Yikes. Guess I’d better stop asking questions or you’ll put the FBI on me.”
“That’s right.” He set down his bottle. “Well, ’m about ready to go in for a dip. How about you?”
“Sure.” Gillian lingered at the table, taking another sip of beer while Jerry rose from his seat. He hitched up his shorts and turned toward the pool. Gillian pushed her chair back. He looked around at her. “You don’t have to wait for me,” she said, and crossed a foot over her knee to remove a sandal. Nodding, Jerry headed for the deep end of the pool. Gillian slipped off her other sandal and stood up. She slowly unbuttoned her shirt. As Jerry dove, she took it off. She draped it over the chair and stepped quickly to the pool, watching him skim beneath the surface to the opposite side. He was just coming up for air when she leaped. She hit the water in a shallow dive. For an instant, the chill was an agony. Then it felt good as she glided along through the silence. Her fingers touched the tile wall. She bobbed to the surface and stood. The water covered her to the shoulders.
She spotted Jerry near the middle of the pool, treading water, watching her. “I missed your dive,” he said.
“Too bad. It was a ten.”
“Let’s see you go off the board.”
“Thanks, anyway.”
“I’ll go first.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
He swam to the side and boosted himself up. His sodden shorts hung low. Gillian saw a pale band of skin where his tan stopped, the top of his buttocks. He tugged the shorts up as he walked toward the diving board. Pausing at the end of the board, he rubbed his hands together. “I’ll now perform my world famous triple somersault.”
He bounced on the board, springing higher and higher, his firm body shining in the sunlight. Suddenly, he tucked and hugged his knees. Gillian winced as his head barely missed the tip of the board. Midway through the first somersault, his back slammed the surface. A geyser of white water exploded.
He came up grinning foolishly, and Gillian clapped. “Bravo!” she called.
“Do I get a ten?”
“I’ll give you a three on the grounds that you survived at all.”
“Okay. Let’s see how an expert does it.”
