“And who’s had a few mai-tais.”
“I’m perfectly sober. Somewhat sober. Besides, it’s dark now. Of course, if
“I’ll go in and get the towels,” he said. He took a final drink of coffee, then pushed his chair away from the table, got up, and went into the house.
Gillian was relieved that he’d left. She suspected that he’d gone for the towels as a ploy to let her undress in privacy. Decent of him. She had thought she would have to strip in front of him, and had rather looked forward to it, but this made it easier.
She stood up. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her blouse and took it off. She folded it and placed it on the seat of her chair. Then she stepped out of her sandals. She lowered her shorts, stepped out of them, and dropped them onto her blouse.
The warm breeze roamed her body. She felt naked. Looking down at herself, she supposed that the black bra and panties were no more revealing than her bikini had been. Though the bra had lace cups, the darkness of the night prevented much from showing.
Still, she thought. This isn’t a bikini, this is undies.
Jerry might have been right about the mai-tais.
Too late to back down now.
Who wants to back down? she asked herself.
She felt daring. It reminded her of the way she used to get when she broke into houses. The feverish thrill of the break-ins had diminished over the past couple of years, so that recently it had been little more than a faint stir of excitement. Not like this. This was intense. Her heart was slamming. Her mouth was dry. Her nipples ached under the soft touch of the bra. Her panties were clinging in front.
She looked at the lighted kitchen door. No sign of Jerry.
Reaching back with one hand, she peeled off her bandage. She set it down on her shorts.
Then she stepped to the edge of the pool and dove in. The cold of the water was a harsh shock for an instant. Then it felt fine. It felt better than fine, caressing her everywhere as she glided along below the surface. When her fingertips touched the tiles at the far side, she came up.
She swam toward the shallow end. Finding the bottom with her feet, she stood up. The water covered her to the neck.
Jerry opened the sliding door and stepped out, holding towels in his arms. “You’re already in,” he said. “I missed the show.”
“Tough toenails,” Gillian said. Then she gritted her teeth to stop the tremor in her jaw.
Jerry dropped the towels onto the table. “So you just get to stay in there and watch me?” he asked.
“That’s the picture.”
Shaking his head, he sat down on a chair and took off his shoes and socks. Then he stood and removed his shirt.
“Maybe you could turn on the patio lights,” Gillian suggested.
“Yucka yucka,” he said. He unbuckled his belt, opened the waist button of his trousers, and slid the zipper down.
“We could use some stripper music,” Gillian said.
He pulled his trousers down.
Gillian thought he was wearing boxer shorts, but a white cord hung over the elastic waistband.
“That’s a swimming suit!” she blurted. “Cheat! Cheat!”
Jerry shrugged. “No reason we should both embarrass ourselves.”
“Creep! Heel! Scab!”
Laughing, he said, “Okay, okay,” and pulled down the trunks. He was wearing something white and scanty.
“Is that a swimming suit, too?” Gillian asked.
“Nope. I swear.”
“Better not be. We had a deal.”
“How do I know you don’t have a suit on?”
“Just have to take my word for it.”
Turning away, he walked toward the house. He stopped at a switch plate on the wall. His arm went up. The water surrounding Gillian was suddenly illuminated by lights below the surface.
She looked down at herself. Her breasts and bra were distinct in the shimmering light, the lower areas of her body slightly blurred.
“How’s that?” Jerry called, his hand still on the switch. “Or would you prefer it dark?”
“This is nice,” she said.
He walked toward the pool. He stopped at its edge and rubbed his hands together. “How’s the water?” he asked.
“It won’t kill you.”
Balancing on one foot, he crouched a bit and dipped his toes in. The light from the pool fluttered on him. He looked lean and strong. His brief shorts hugged his hips. His penis, bulging against the thin fabric, looked as if it might thrust its way up through the waistband.
He seemed very nonchalant as he took his foot out of the water and rubbed his hands together again. Doesn’t he realize? Gillian wondered. Of course he does. And he knows I’m watching. He must want me to see, want me to know he’s turned on.
He took a deep breath, then leaped from the side in a low powerful dive that took him far out over the water before he knifed in with barely a splash. He was a pale streak below the surface for a moment. Then he came up at the wall and gripped its edge. “Not bad,” he said, “after the first shock.”
Gillian nodded. She didn’t trust her voice. It would probably come out shaking.
Jerry stayed where he was, hanging onto the edge of the pool several yards away.
Gillian stayed where she was, too.
This is silly, she thought Say something. Do something.
“Let’s see one of those fancy dives,” Jerry said.
“Oh, sure thing.” She was right. Her voice shook when she spoke. “You just want me to lose my pants again.”
“Never crossed my mind.” Jerry pushed himself away from the wall. He kicked and stroked his way slowly backward, but he headed straight for the other side instead of approaching Gillian.
Don’t just stand here like a jerk, she told herself.
Leaning forward, she left her feet. She did the breast stroke toward the deep end, keeping her face out of the water and gazing at Jerry as she glided closer to him. He had stopped short of the wall. Treading water, he watched her go by.
“That isn’t your bikini,” he said.
“That’s right.” Under the diving board, she turned around to face him. She kicked hard, reached high, and caught an edge of the board with one hand. Pulling herself up, she clutched the other side of the board. She hung there, out of the water to her waist. The air felt chilly on her wet skin.
Jerry stared at her.
She let go with one hand. Dangling under the board, she pawed her side with a floppy hand, stuck her chin out, and grunted like an ape.
Jerry didn’t crack a smile.
“You’re not amused?” Gillian asked.
“Me Tarzan,” he said, and lunged at her.
Gillian yelped. She clutched the board with her other hand, pulled herself up and raised her legs. She kicked water at Jerry. He grabbed one of her ankles. “Don’t you da—!” He tugged. She lost her hold. Dropping rump-first, she took a deep breath.
She kept her eyes open. At first, she saw only white froth. Then Jerry was above her. His eyes were open, too. His mouth was shut, but curled up at the comers in a mischievous grin.
He was above her, not touching her, just gazing down and grinning. He waved. Then he twisted around and
