An Irresistible Temptation Ch. 01

"I had 800 psi when Connie checked just before I lost air. She then swam behind me." Realization then hit her. "She must have turned it off!"

"They were never very pleasant but why would she do that?"

Then Monique cried: "Oh no! It must be me."

Urgently I asked: "What do you mean?"

"I am a reporter and I was investigating them for fraud."

Of course this distracted me for a moment as I wondered what she had done. Then I realized I had to focus on the here and now. With Monique holding me again and looking at me for solutions, we just bounced about on the surface, while I confirmed that we had just one option.

"We are five miles from the coast. We can snorkel that far as we have wetsuits and fins."

Monique looked around then said: "We can't even see the coast."

"I think I can sometimes see a tall building when the waves lift me. There is possibly a bit of a southerly current in this part of the Gulf, but if I follow my compass on a bearing of 70°, we should be right."

"Are you sure we can make that distance?"

Monique sounded doubtful, so I realizing my first task was to give her hope. This would require a little over confidence on my part. "I have done half that distance before and then partied all night. Five miles is just like a long hike. We just need to relax as much as we can by doing slow long kicks. Every two minutes we should check our direction. Just relax your muscles whenever you can. You just stick besides me and we'll make it fine.

In a slightly resigned tone she replied: "Whatever you say."

"First, let's replace our masks then we will drop our dive tanks." I then proceeded to give instructions.

"Fill your vest first and then turn around so I can release your regulator and the tank." I turned off the gas, grabbed her second stages to purge the air from the line, disconnected her low pressure inflator hose and removed the first stage of the regulator from the tank.

Once I removed the safety strap, I released the cam buckle and turned her around to see the tank. I flicked the J valve lever to show her before I then dropped the cylinder to the bottom of the ocean.

After checking her submersible pressure gauges, I suggested: "You don't have a compass with your gauges so you might as well drop your regulator as well."

Monique was able to undo my regulator, however the buckles were too tight on my tank. Consequently, I dropped my weight belt and manually inflated my BCD to ensure it would float when I remove it to release the tank. I had previously tied my regulator to BCD to keep it streamlined as I needed to keep my compass.

With my tank gone and my BCD secured about me again, I told her: "Now drop your weight belt and let some air out of your BCD. I think you should drop all the weights from your BCD pouches, but try some snorkeling to check how it feels first. You need to make sure your fins stay underwater."

Once we had dropped all our weights, I asked: "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I will ever be."

"I will start slowly until we have warmed up, but then we need to maintain a consistent pace. Try and distract yourself by counting the number of dresses in your wardrobe."

"Owen... I will do my best."

"By the way. Hold any pee you have for as long as you can. We want to avoid dehydration." Monique just looked at me in amazement and slowly nodded to show her understanding.

I checked my compass and before placing the snorkel in my mouth, I said: "Here we go."

I put my head in the water and started to snorkel. I kicked slowly and looked to my right side and was pleased that Monique was close beside me.

I had rowed at school and college. In the off season we always undertook long rows, often doing ten miles with only one or two breaks. I had learnt that repetition and boredom of the rowing stroke often allowed me to zone out delaying the onset of tiredness. I thought maybe I could do the same now.

I checked Monique every minute or so and then the compass for about half an hour. Then I must have zoned out and suddenly worried that I hadn't looked at Monique. I abruptly stopped and raised my head and was greatly relieved when she stopped next to me.

"Are you OK?" That was going to be my first words for several hours.

She removed the snorkel from her mouth and puffed out: "Yes."

"I suddenly didn't see you. Am I going too fast?"

"Actually initially I thought it was too slow, but I now think it is fine. I was just hanging back a little to make it easier to follow you."

"Well as soon as you think you are dropping back... shout and stop me. We will need to rest for short periods."

"Ready to go again?"

With her nod, we replaced our snorkels and headed off on the bearing of 70°, slightly north of east.

I knew that swimming five miles was like running half a marathon. I had run 10 miles without a break, so I was confident that half a marathon was possible if I could have breaks. Swimmers without fins could cover a mile in half an hour. I knew we were going slower and would also use time for our rests, but maybe we could get to the shore in five hours. It was about midday when we started so it would still be daylight when we finished.

On our next rest break Monique showed she was in reasonable spirits. "I must be getting better as I didn't drink any of the ocean on the last leg. I didn't realize how hard snorkeling could be."

I replied without expression: "Yes, it can be a tankless task."

She looked at me and then her smile slowly broadened. "Was that a joke? That was terrible. You will pay for that later."

As we continued, my thoughts wandered to many topics during the swim. Of course several times I wondered what Monique had done to get us into this situation. How bad could it have been to warrant this predicament? I kept asking myself, how could this beautiful angel have caused such a problem? However, I knew that explanations would be best left until we were safe.

We had gone more than an hour when on a break, Monique looked towards the shore and with dismay asked: "Are we making any progress?"

With all the optimism I could muster, I said: "I can now see the building tower clearly, but it is more to the left than before. We may be moving in a current, but our progress is really good."

"I am really getting cold now. You are a bastard! If only you would let me pee, I could at least have a moment of warmth." That brought a smile to my face and it also confirmed her morale was still good.

On the next swim section I focused on trying to remember at least one corny joke for our next break. The best I could do when the time came was: "Why do mermaids wear sea shells?"

"I hope this is not going to be a naughty joke." Then she shrugged her shoulders.

"Because B shells are too small." After a moment, a half smile was ample reward.

I can't describe the absolute boredom. I was tiring, getting chafed, and also getting cold. At our breaks we had run out of conversation, but I still tried to say something like: "We are doing well." I knew we were about halfway when the coast was regularly visible each time a wave lifted us higher. I tried to make the most of it to keep Monique's and my own spirits high.

"Owen... Help!" I raised my head and looked back at Monique. "I have a cramp." I swam to her, grabbed the inflator for her buoyancy vest and blew in several large breaths.

"Lie back and try and relax. Which leg is it?"

"The right. I have a knot in my calf but the pain shoots up the whole leg."

"Try flexing your foot upward. You have been pointing your toes for a long time, so do the reverse." As she lay back I grabbed hold of her right leg and started rubbing my hand up and down her calf to try and warm it up. Realizing this probably wouldn't work through her wet suit, I started rolling her muscles to the side between my thumb and fingers. I was concerned for her, but I still had enough energy to allow my thoughts to consider what it would be like without her wearing the neoprene skin.

"Ahhhh! That's the spot," she cried. I applied more pressure with my thumb for over a minutes to see if this would relieve her muscle contractions.

When the cramp started, her face had been contorted with her eyes almost closed. After five minutes, her face was now more relaxed. Hoping that we could continue again, I asked: "Is that better?"

"Much better, but there is still a shadow of the pain. If we make it, will you give me a proper massage?"

"I'll have you know, my services do not come cheaply. Pausing, I then said: "We need to get going again. The shore is close, but I don't want to be here at sunset."

"Are you thinking there may be sharks?"

"Don't worry, sharks don't attack women."

"What?"

"They are man eaters."

"Not funny Owen."

Monique deflated most of the air from her vest and then with her snorkel in her mouth, she put her head down and we started swimming again. This time I took the pace from her.

We had several more rest breaks where I massaged both her legs. We were too tired to speak now, but she certainly did not object.

Finally it was the changed motion in the water from choppiness to waves that stirred the numbness from my brain. The sun was now close to setting as I looked behind me, but I also saw a wave. Removing the snorkel from my mouth I shouted: "See if you can catch this wave."

As it approached I shouted "Now" to get Monique to react. She still had her head in the water and as she was too slow, the wave passed us by. I stayed beside her, looking about for the next wave. After several more rolled by us, we were finally lifted by a wave that took us to the shallows.

When I felt myself kicking the sand, I pulled my knees up under me. Resting my arms forward in the sand I rolled onto my bottom as the water ebbed and flowed around me. I pulled the fins off my feet and unsteadily moved back to a crouch so I could stand up.

Monique had gone past me. She had rolled onto her back and just lay passively as the waves flowed over her. Her mask was about her neck and some of her hair had come loose from her pony tail. She looked exhausted and barely raised her head as I approached. While this may not be the ideal look for the cover of a glamour magazine, she still looked beautiful. I pulled the fins from her feet, then I said: "Give me your arm." Somehow I just pulled her up to me.

Monique fell against my body, wrapped her arms about me and lay her head against my BCD harness. Holding her firmly I then felt the trembling of her body. She was crying softly. I just held her for several minutes hoping this was some comfort.

She seemed to have regained control, so when I heard a couple of sniffs, I said: Please don't cry on my gear as the salty tears will damage it.

Still holding me she raised her head with a thin smile and said: "Thank you." Her slightly puffy eyes showed her emotion and the sincerity in the statement. Strangely I couldn't have wished for a greater reward.

"What do we do now?" she tiredly asked.

"We get a drink... then food as I am so ravenous... we go to a house and call the police."

"No... we can't!"

"You'd better explain."

"The local sheriff is the brother of the Congressman I have been investigating. Hank is their cousin."

Well that stopped me. If we couldn't go to the police, how would this be resolved? This means we were in even more danger. "We still need water, food and rest. There is a house just over 100 yards down that way, or there are several houses about 300 yards to the right."

"Just go to the nearest, but we need a cover story."

"How about we just say we had a boating accident and had a long swim to shore. We just need a lift to town."

"Yes, but we are newly married... Ramiro and Julie Montague. Also let me do the talking initially, as I can put on the distressed little girl act."

"I wouldn't think that would need much acting."

As we walked to the house still carrying our fins, Monique held my hand. When I looked at her she said: "We need to look authentic." I had actually thought it was more an instinctive reaction, so I gave her hand three squeezes. I was pleased when she squeezed me back. I just hoped that her reply had the same meaning as I had intended.

The house was a little run down timber bungalow. I wondered how it had survived through hurricanes. I knocked loudly on the door. When there was no immediate answer it occurred to me that a visitor at sunset may not be welcome. I knocked again and loudly shouted: "Is anyone home, we need help!" I could hear a shuffle inside and a woman, at least in her sixties, answered the door.

Monique started: "Hello, we are sorry to disturb you, but my husband and I have had a long swim to shore as our boat sunk. Could you please help us? We desperately need some water and have no other clothes or transport."

"You look pretty worn out you poor thing. You had better come in dear."

The woman who was called Betty, directed us to a table with wooden chairs. She brought us water and an extra jug. We then delivered our modified story and our names; Ramiro and Julie Montague. Betty informed us that she didn't have a car as she no longer needed one. There was the bus and her son visited every Wednesday and Sunday to take her shopping. She offered to call a taxi, but at this time of the evening there would be a wait and it was quite expensive.

It was then that Monique and I realized we wouldn't have money to pay for a cab anyway. We had both left some money in out dive bags and the rest of mine was in my car. Monique said she had left her wallet in the folder that I had also placed in my car. The car was probably still locked.

If we hadn't felt helpless before, we certainly did now. I think it was probably due to Monique's look of despair that finally Betty said we could stay the night in her son's room.

Although Betty had remained guarded to start with, now her motherly instincts kicked in. "I have a stew cooking. I normally make enough to make four meals, so I have enough to freeze and reheat later. I am sure there will be plenty for us. While it is cooking, have a shower and I will look for some clothes for you dear... and I am sure my son has clothes that will fit Ramiro."

In the end, Monique receive some panties, a nice feminine t-shirt and some baggy shorts that had been her sons. I had shorts and t-shirt, but I had to go commando. I would wear my swimming trunks once they were dry.

After the shower, Monique had been able to comb her wet hair out. Her proud breasts were tenting her t-shirt so much I took every opportunity to watch their movement, making sure I was not being observed. I knew if I was really her husband, I would feel quite proud of her appearance after such a traumatic day.

Over dinner with numerous glasses of water, we answered a few questions from Betty about our experience, but she then took over the conversation. I had the feeling that she was lonely as she was enjoying the opportunity to tell us about her family, her garden, her chooks and her previous work at the supermarket. I was glad she could keep the conversation going as we were far too tired to think of interesting things to say.

As Betty continued chatting, I was having my own thoughts. If we were to avoid attracting attention from the police, we needed Betty to avoid gossiping. Consequently I explained that we were embarrassed about our accident and asked if she could be discrete for at least the next week. Betty had no problem with that.

Monique with her elbows on the table to support her head was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open. I thanked Betty for everything she had done but asked if we could be excused as we desperately needed sleep. I helped Monique up and guided her to the allocated bedroom. Neither of us made a comment about the double bed as we were too tired.

I pulled off my shirt and hopped in the right side of the bed. When I had settled, Monique was in beside me wearing only her panties. I briefly viewed her magnificent chest before she pulled up the sheet. In that glimpse, I beheld large pink nipples mounted on firm breasts that tantalizingly wobbled. I was sure they were natural, but as they looked so perfect it made me uncertain. Under the sheet, she held my hand, but said nothing. I had wicked thoughts but the temptation did not last for long as I was soon asleep.

I awoke in the morning with a warm body cuddling me. Monique, still asleep, had her arm around my body and two warm pillows were pressing into my back. My morning wood was pressing into my shorts. I remained still while I cleared my mind.

Looking at my watch, I realized we had probably slept almost ten hours. I also noticed the distinctive smell of bacon. Oh, how I would have loved to explore this new intimacy with Monique, but I could just imagine Betty listening and waiting for us to appear.

I rolled out of bed and then gently shook my bed partner. As Monique's clothes were on my shirt, I threw them to her. I had no other option than be a reluctant gentleman.

As I guessed, Betty was waiting expectantly. We sat down to eggs, bacon, hash browns, beans and lots of coffee. She was insistent that we have a second plate and it was not hard to be persuaded.

Greatly refreshed we were eager to get back to our own bungalows so we could properly dress and normalize our lives. Betty provided us with a large calico bag for our diving equipment and even found a pair of old flip flops for Monique.

Betty gave final directions: "Walk north along the beach until Swanston Street. It is then only 200 yards to the main road where there is a bus stop. Now the bus to town will have 33 on the front. Here is some money to cover your fare."

We were full of appreciation. Monique gave Betty a long hug of thanks then said: Betty, what is your full name and mail address? I will write to you later, so could you please write it down?" Equipped with this information, we said our final farewells.

As we walked to the bus, we considered our options without making a decision. How could we report the attempt on our lives? We decided to work that out after we had returned to the bungalows.

I explained that all my gear was in the car. Monique was very keen on the return of her green folder, but wanted to first shower and dress. She would get her belongings together while I collected the car.

We didn't talk on the bus and weren't certain at which stop we should exit. It was soon obvious when the bus engine ceased running and all the passengers exited. We were about 500 yards from the bungalows and the garage was almost a mile further on. I decided to accompany Monique and leave the bag containing our dive gear at her Hut 14. Then I would collect my car.

We were about 200 yards away when we sighted two white vehicles; a pic-up and a sedan. They both had blue light bars on the roof and the word 'Sheriff' emblazoned in green on the side. They were parked in the visitors' carpark of the Bungalow complex. Trying not to look suspicious, I pulled Monique behind a tree and hugged her as if we were a real couple.

She immediately asked: "What do you think?"

I didn't have an answer, until I spotted a 13 year old boy sitting outside a video game shop across the road. I replied: "Just stay here leaning against the tree. Don't let Charlie see you, but pretend you are looking at the birds in the branches." I then walked towards the road and Charlie.

Fortunately before I had to cross the road, Charlie looked up. When he saw me, I waved for him to join me. He happily bounded across the road so we could talk. "What is the Sherriff doing at the Bungalows?"

"Oh they are collecting Ms. Fontaine's belongings. They said she drowned."

"Well... Charlie, you still have my ice cream money don't you?"

"Ah yes... I am sorry Owen... I ate your ice creams yesterday because I couldn't find you."