Naiad in Plain Sight

One of his own palms brushed her small chest, grazed across a rippled sheet of her diaphragm, the fingers sinking into Nancy's hot already oozing crack. Another slave to carefully shaving her box bald, Nancy's pube was stubbly to his touch. A condition both noted. His fingers on those nubs bothered then displeased her. He, on the other hand, enjoyed this unexpected tactile treat.

Thankfully silly vanity didn't fully unnerve the moment. Uneasy as Nancy behaved, she refrained from apologizing about her grooming.

Next time, should there be an encore, Lowery knew her mons would be razored smoother than grease on Teflon.

Lowery's fingers mined her slit. Nancy responded livelier than he recalled many other recent women. Had they been standing, Lowery believed her hips might've shimmied.

During his fingering, he dropped his mouth down on those girlish breasts. Rising from these hillocks were small nipples now the texture of ridged shells. Sucking each rough bead between mindful lips, Lowery let his tongue roll them mindlessly. Nancy's twitching became more pronounced. Little gasps accompanied these tremors.

Regrettably, Lowery cut his lapping short. Nancy had drenched the knuckles of the hand between her legs. He kissed each breast goodbye, promised himself he'd return, and hiked his body parallel with hers.

Nancy's long legs opened wider. Lowery was enveloped. Those strong limbs squeezed the backs of his own.

Her creamy nook took him completely in the first stroke. Unaccustomed to that as he was, he realized even if he'd expressed surprise Nancy wouldn't have noticed. Lowery's cock deep inside her elicited far more than the expected delightful color-shot journey.

For the longest strokes Lowery missed setting any rhythm because her hips bucked and weaved reasonless. This jarring traveled throughout Nancy's torso. Her head popped up and down, side to side, as if her neck was mounted on springs.

Hands now framing her head, Nancy either flexed fingers at empty objects or formed reflexive fists. Eye motion beneath her shut lids reminded him of sleepers deep in dream states.

Lowery deduced this random ride to Nancy's constantly shifting spot: she used his cock as a divining rod; but he always countered a beat behind. From this particular solution Lowery realized he'd been doing way too much thinking while fucking.

Nancy's gasps increased fervor. Some actually got stuck in her throat before subsequent ones dislodged them.

Lowery grasped Nancy's muscle-tightened ass and asserted himself. Swivel and sway as he did, he retained strength enough to plunge straight. To his dismay straightforward driving required effort. Screwing Nancy strained his back, arms and legs.

When Lowery came, he quaked rather than pounded. His grunting wasn't for show. They rushed from his sternum.

Either he'd worn Nancy down or she'd already come because his discharge was easier than actually riding her. His apple bag bouncing off her ass turned out as their encounter's sole routine act.

Moments afterwards Lowery lay against Nancy longer and heavier than he preferred. If she noticed, she disregarded it. Her frenzy dissipated, Nancy embraced him tenderly. She brushed the short bristles atop his head. Nancy dusted his flushed face with little kisses. Pleasant as he found Nancy's affection, it ultimately unsettled him. He should've mentioned it just to freak her out.

But what if Nancy asked "why?" Wonder, rather, if befuddlement became intrigue? He'd choke out the truth because that kind of deception revealed itself quickly. Particularly with Lowery whose truths festered just under his skin.

At times, Lowery wished he possessed the cold bastard aloofness of Ransom Farrell or Ian Abercrombie's calculating manner. Those two became his best college friends. An association which thrived into present day.

Abercrombie once said the trio demonstrated the same traits in different ways. Lowery and Farrell never saw what he meant, while Abercrombie never bothered explaining. Lowery bet Abercrombie was good at keeping secrets. Farrell was too distant to have secrets, much less share any.

Nancy asked what turned over in Lowery's mind. He focused on her and smiled. This had the proper effect. It mollified her and vanquished her inquisitiveness. She then mimed his smile. Advantage regained, Lowery spoke.

"What was that blender you just put me through?"

Nancy laughed. She snuggled into his chest. His arms tightened around her of their own accord.

"You mean to say you didn't recognize a woman who pushes back?" she asked.

Lowery pondered her statement, and replied, "It sure was novel."

The next morning, her presence more than streaming light or coffee aroma pulled Lowery from sleep. Nancy sat in a chair across from the foot of the bed. By her expression he knew she'd been studying him in all his glorious nakedness.

In a similar state herself, Lowery saw little contrast between tanned skin and those bits usually concealed. He imagined Nancy sunbathed nude behind her house. After all, this far out she really only needed worry about four-legged wolves.

"You actually have gray hair down there," she said.

Lowery left her observation unanswered.

Nancy continued. "I thought about taking your thing and seeing if I could tie it into a knot."

"Weren't you worried that you'd cut off blood to my brain?" Lowery said. "You already make me dizzy enough as is."

She laughed warmly at his hokey response. "You are so full of shit."

It was Lowery's turn to laugh. "Good thing we can skip the pretense."

Her attitude sobering, Nancy nodded. "Look, Paul, I want to straighten out a few things. About me. Don't think I often go around with my ankles behind my ears."

He hadn't caught her mood change. "As limber as you are ..."

Nancy flashed a curt grin, then resumed speaking. "But I am attracted to certain kinds of people. The look you gave me at the pool. You never looked away. I like that. I like boldness."

Several beats behind as he was, Lowery finally sensed Nancy's new tone. Her confessional nature put him on guard.

Nancy admitted: "What I can't stand are those women who slip on something sexy or go out strutting their stuff and when they do come across people who show appreciation, all of a sudden turn sour. They look away. Or look down. Or start scowling. Why be a bitch if you're wearing something that's going to be noticed? If that's how you feel, wear a goddamn burka!"

He laughed at her vehemence. She recognized her excess and throttled the stridency.

"I haven't worked hard on my looks," Nancy said, "but I have trained hard to win. The first is a byproduct of the second. There's no apology. No shame, either.

"It's a rush meeting people's eyes when they look at me. Being noticed makes you more alive."

Lowery asked if that wasn't a concession to ego.

"Fuck if I know," Nancy said. "Fuck if I care. From what I've seen people who shy away when they're spooked about being nabbed enjoying something pleasant aren't worth a shit."

"Maybe, Nancy, they don't see themselves as measuring up in your eyes."

She grinned. "That's why you wait for the reaction. See where it all goes from there.

"That morning at the pool, all those guys suddenly finding chores near the edge ... I'm more than quite accustomed to being stared at. It's the first requirement for tall women who work in next to nothing. We're always going to be somebody's long drink of water."

Nancy punctuated the homey saying by screwing up her face. "Not one of those men at the pool made eye contact. It could've been a comedy scene. I should've looked around the pool. Every head there would've turned away in sequence. I might try that next time."

Lowery chuckled from envisioning such hourly-wage choreography.

"I'm an attention hog," Nancy said. "Not the empty-headed, car-wrecking, drunk celebrity kind, but from how I soak it up. I drown in it now because someday I know I'll be disregarded and dismissed."

"That's a harsh assessment of aging, isn't it?" he asked.

"Today you're being kind. Five-10 years from now you'd be evasive. Any way to let me down easy."

His silence confirmed her insight.

"And since I'm desired today," she said, "I've decided to flaunt it. Besides the competitive rush, the hard work, the results, also satisfy my material needs. This house, travel, enough money, really, to act on a dare instead of meekly."

Lowery ought have said money leveled a lot of shortcomings as well as provided inspiration, as most middle-aged, moneyed, overweight, red sports car driving, bad-rug wearing men well knew. Rather, he kept that opinion to himself. He worried she'd hear how cash created her, not the meaningful part concerning augmenting what attributes already existed.

"Paul, that's why you're, we're, here. In, say, 15 years when I'm an old lady, I don't want to be some woman cursing myself over chances not taken. Because that would mean I missed out. I see those women. I hear them. They're all kinds of angry and bitter. They have no one to blame but themselves. I want to have moments like last night to warm me."

"Last night!?" Lowery asked. "Is that all I'm good for? What about the next few hours? And after that?"

Smiling, Nancy unfolded off the seat to slither into bed with him. Crawling out of shade into streaming sun showed how lustrously the sun had burnished her. In his arms her barely contained vigor pulsed against him.

That was one year ago.

Paul Lowery met Kathy Peck's stare. Neither imparted malice. Lowery believed contemplation generated hers. A radical reassessment of the male, which he represented. Nancy Kirkwood awoke. She brightened from her nap. Her stirring ended the trance between Kathy and Lowery.

Nancy swung her legs off the chaise then stretched her muscled arms. Kathy also sat up and let a smile round her face.

Intending surprise or reward, Nancy suddenly lurched across Lowery's empty chaise and planted unexpected passion on Kathy's lips. Caught unawares at the start of Nancy's long kiss, Kathy eventually settled and drank in the moment.

Their immersion in one another, how closed eyes led to blind fluttering fingers that skipped along the other's neck or shoulder, how each feasting tongue flicked and rolled their cheeks, all that excited him.

Once their burst of affection exhausted itself, Nancy faced Lowery. Only now was he aware of his thickening cock's tremor. Nancy's eyes shunted between his face and his hose.

"Paul, I don't want you to feel neglected."

She handled his swelling manhood, bent down, tongued the head and kissed it comically loud. Despite that, Lowery felt she preformed nowhere near the fervor showered upon Kathy.

Attentions paid, favors parceled, the three Americans toweled off sweat. They again girded themselves in damp beachwear and packed their gear. Then, weighed by deliberation, they trudged back towards the initial annoyance which had spirited them to this respite in Spain.

-15-