A Traditional Swim Ch. 17: Final

Heather was collapsed in my arms panting when one of the servers came up. In heavily accented English she said, "That was very nice." She lifted a bottle of champagne. "From the couple over there," she said and pointed at Rita and Mark. I nodded for her to open the champagne. Heather tried to drink a bit straight from the bottle, but it spilled and ran down between her breasts. I licked that up.

Just then, I heard Rob shout, somewhat drunkenly I thought, "We'll top that!" I watched Sandy get up on a table and lie on her back. Rob climbed up on top of her with his head over her cunt and his dick pointed towards her face. Soon, Sandy and Rob were doing 69 on a table top and Heather and I were old news.

We finally staggered home from Sally's. I think all of us felt the effects of Bastille Day the next day, except maybe Sara.

By the end of July, Heather and Sandy were making plans to get back to Florida to start swim practice, Heather as the start and Sandy now as a coach. Rob was going with them. He was going to start work on an MBA and his old baseball coach had agreed to let him volunteer with the team. "I'm not a major league pitcher," he told me, "and I don't aspire to be Crash Davis."

Per plan, we would also be leaving for Florida soon to do our nude training with Heather's team. However, a few days before Heather, Sandy, and Rob were scheduled to leave, Sara had a call from Chris, her sister in New York.

After she got off of the phone, Sara gave me a very long look. Finally, she said, "I'm sure that you guessed that was Chris. Some family stuff has come up and she needs me up there for a few weeks. I'll call Trish and Lauren and tell them that we can't do Florida this year."

I didn't ask what "family stuff." I knew that Sara's parents had died years ago and that Chris was her only sibling. I also knew that Sara would only tell me what she wanted me to know no matter how I asked. I was slightly put out that she had made the assumption that, because she had a conflict and couldn't train with the women's team in Florida, we had a conflict and could not go. Oh well. That was a part of living with Sara.

Whether it was serendipity or someone's plan, I'll likely never know, but my friend Karen in Florida called about an hour after Sara talked to her sister. Karen's husband, "Dr. Rick," had become quite wealthy from inventing a medical device and was now as much, if not more, businessman as physician. Dr. Rick had to make a two week business trip to China. Karen did not want to go to China and had Rick's permission to visit us on the island. She would be coming in the same day Sara was leaving.

I told Karen the situation and said that I felt obligated to ask Sara's approval for Karen to be here while Sara was gone. Sara said only, "That's wonderful Dear. You won't be alone."

The plane making Karen's flight into the island would, after cleaning, refueling, and getting a new crew, become Sara's flight to JFK. We greeted Karen at the gate. However, she said, "I better get my bag before it's stolen. I'll meet you at baggage claim Harry." For whatever reason, Sara and I didn't have much to say. When they called her flight for boarding, we stood up. I hugged her, kissed her, and said "Take care."

Sara simply said, "You too Harry."

I stood watching until Sara disappeared down the jet way. Something felt wrong, but I couldn't specify what. I went out to baggage claim to meet Karen.

Karen had been a friend for a very long time. I'd known her long before I met Sara. In truth, I loved Karen. She was smart, funny, caring, had a great looking body, and had an open and endearing face below her straight black hair. She also had a New York accent that many years of living in Southwest Florida had done little to erase. About a year ago, Sara and I had visited Karen and Dr. Rick at their mansion on Captiva Island. One night during our visit, with everyone's concurrence, we swapped partners. Karen and I had spent a night making love to each other with an intense passion. Lacking the history, I doubt that Sara and Dr. Rick had the same passion, but Sara assured me later that it had been "great fun."

Karen was waiting with her bag as I walked up. "Come on, let's get going. I want to get my clothes off," she said smiling. An American tourist standing nearby gave her a double-take.

I drove us down to Sara's and my house on the cove in Sara's SUV. As promised, Karen got out of the vehicle, took her clothes off, dumped them on the passenger seat, and started walking down to the water. I quickly stripped off and caught up with her. Hand-in-hand, we walked nude along the water's edge until we reached the point that separated the cove in front of Sally's bar/restaurant from our cove.

Karen stopped and turned to face me. God did she look beautiful. "Harry, this is just a sometime thing with us. Let's make it special."

We hugged, kissed, and hugged each other more tightly. We turned and walked back in the direction of the house. There was one boat anchored in the western side of the cove.

When we were about even with the house, Karen stopped again. She looked at me for a minute or so. Then she said, "Here, now, on the beach." I kissed her again as I also reached down to finger her clit. One of Karen's hands was gently fondling my balls. I moved my face to Karen's chest and began nibbling on one of her nipples. Karen was stroking my shaft as I started to get hard. Finally, I picked Karen up and laid her, very gently, on her back in the sand. I knelt down and spread her bare legs. As I was entering her, Karen giggled and said, "They're watching."

"Who?"

"That boat. I don't care."

What we did was not animal sex. Rather, it was lovemaking between two people who cared about each other and who wanted very much to please each other. We were also in no hurry.

I was bareback and couldn't remember whether Karen used contraceptives. I started to pull out as I felt myself getting ready to come. Karen clamped both legs around me and said softly, "No. In me." I came in her, for as long as I ever have. In the midst of that, Karen had a shuddering orgasm. I didn't pull out immediately when I was done. I wanted to stay in her and feel her even as I softened. We kissed again. Finally, I pulled out. I got to my feet and then helped Karen up. I brushed the sand off of her back and ass. A figure on the boat waved at us. Karen giggled again.

Karen stayed for ten days. We dressed once, to go into town to get fresh beef at a butcher. We either ate at home or walked nude across the point and ate at Sally's. We made love on the beach, in the surf, on the point, under the outdoor shower, in the master bedroom, in the guest room, on the patio facing the cove. Everywhere we could think of, at least twice.

Throughout Karen's visit, I had not heard from Sara. I thought, maybe, that was Sara's idea of giving me time with an old friend. As much as I loved being around Karen, I missed Sara's voice. I called once, got voicemail, and left a message. Oh well, Sara was due back the day after Karen left.

I had been back from taking Karen to the airport for about an hour when the phone rang. It was Sara.

"Harry. How are you?"

"Fine."

"How's Karen?"

"Gone."

"Oh, that's right, she left today."

"Yeah."

"I have to stay up here longer than I thought."

"When are you coming back?"

"I'm not sure."

"Is there anything I can help with?"

"No. Uh, Harry, I have to go."

"I love you."

"Take care of yourself Harry."

That was the last conversation I ever had with Sara. When she hadn't called again in a few days, I called and left her another message. A couple of days later, I left a third message.

About ten days after we spoke an envelope arrived from New York. I recognized the return address as Chris's office. Inside was a letter from Sara:

"Harry: I'll be staying up here for the foreseeable future. I do not expect to ever return to Martinique."

The rest of the letter explained how she had divided up our assets. While we never married, we had owned everything jointly. Sara had about 25% of our cash and securities transferred to an account set up in my name at the bank where Chris worked. Sara had transferred the other 75% to an account in her name only. However, she had arranged for and executed all of the documents needed to transfer her interest in our home on the island to me. Those had been sent to one of the bank's correspondents on the island for recording in accordance with local law. There was a name and an island number I was to call to verify that the property had transferred. It was very Sara-like to present this all as fait accompli.

I was struck by two things that were missing from the letter. Given the years we had spent together, the obvious omission was any word of endearment, or even goodbye. Something else really hit me though. Sara had taken very little with her to New York. All of her things, from clothes and jewelry to books and things she acquired on our trips, were still here in the house. Sara had not asked for any of her things back. She never did. I guess that she wanted a complete break from the phase of her life that I had been privileged to share.