Ocean's Embrace

Only when she lifted her arms up did I realize what on earth she was waiting for. She wanted me to undress her. This was new to me, since the girls I'd been with before had always felt the need to take their own clothes off. I found it incredibly appealing, not to mention unbelievably erotic, that Mae wanted me to be the one to undress her. I gripped the bottom of her shirt on either side and raised it up, entranced by her braless breasts, so patiently waiting for my lips. As her hair fell back down, freed by her shirt, I pressed my lips to first one breast, then the other, tasting each coffee-hued nipple, which I felt sure tasted like the salty ocean air. She pressed her breasts to my face, her arms wrapping around my neck, her lips on my head, sighing and cooing at me, her voice smoky with desire. My hands slid down to her butt again, round and pleasing, and the heat of our need was deliciously scorching.

My fingers found the button of her shorts and undid it, unzipped the zipper, and tugged slowly on her shorts, down her legs, which felt wonderfully smooth and firm. She stepped out of her shorts, and the sight of a simple pair of white cotton panties greeted me. I noticed a small wet spot, no bigger than a half-dollar, where the material covered the source. Down went those white cotton panties, and up went my hands, caressing her legs, back up to the small black thatch of pubic hair above a pair of dark-pink, thin inner lips that guarded her lubricated heat. She didn't allow me to linger too long on my loving examination of her. She pulled me back up to her eyes.

"I need you now. Maybe another time I'll give you as long as you could possibly want to please me in that way, but right now, I need you too much."

She hurriedly downed my shorts, wasting no time in freeing the phallus that had been tenting the thin fabric this whole time. She took me in her hands, the contact so soft and fleeting that I wondered if she was even actually touching me most of the time. Then she went to her knees on my bed, and sat down. She took my hand and pulled me to her, on top of her, her legs on either side of my hips.

"Please, right now," she whispered tremulously.

I lifted myself just above her, and she gripped me, guiding me to her, and I hovered for just a second before lowering down on top of her. She was already so ready, so moist, and I sank slowly into her. Her heels rested on the backs of my thighs, and she pulled on me, urging me in that silky-smoky voice to take her right now, she needed me right now. I moved within her as she gripped me just tightly enough to send courses of pleasure through me. She moved with me, raising up to match my thrusts with her own. I kissed her almost breathlessly, my rhythm increasing at her request. Soon the urgency with which I thrust matched her own urgency to receive me, and that sent her over the edge, into a frenzy of climax, and she shuddered with more intensity than when she had shuddered in my arms earlier. The release did nothing quench her need, and I found myself thrusting deeper into her, feeling like I might lift her off the bed with each stroke, but it brought her back up again, gasping, trembling as the pressure of her pleasure exploded, and then again before she could come down from the last.

By some unspoken decision, she pulled her legs up to her chest, and I pulled her up on top of me, without me slipping from her, and she straddled me, moving her body seductively, her hair swinging around her face. I brushed it back and then held onto her hips, occasionally running my hands over her thighs. She moved me, grinding herself against me while impaling me inside her. Then she brought her knees up again, and began lifting herself up almost to the tip before sliding back down, and I was hypnotized while I watched my length disappear into her, joining with her on a most primal level, but somehow it was all new. She leaned back a little, her hands holding her up, and she moved in quicker and deeper strokes. She began making a thin, mewling noise in the back of her throat that seemed to signal something earth-shattering impending. With each urgent thrust, the mewling evolved more into moans, then cries, reaching near screams as molten heat gushed from her center, out onto me, coating me generously. Her near screams took an incredibly long time to lessen, but when they did, fading back to gasps and whimpers, the urgency faded somewhat. Then, to my surprise, she collapsed back onto the bed, and I slipped quickly from her.

She gasped for breath, hitching, still shivering in the afterglow. Once she'd regained some of her breath, she flipped over onto her stomach, and raised up onto her knees. I could see her entrance, the dark pink inner lips engorged slightly, her clitoris more so. I took the nonverbal cue and raised myself to my knees, positioning myself behind her. With one easy, deep thrust, I imbedded myself into her. She cried out, suddenly filled full of me. I rocked back and forth, and she thrust back so that our skin slapped loudly. Incredibly, in this position, she began to climax quicker, with less time to recover between. Her lubrication soon gleamed in the dim light as it coated her thighs. Earlier in our lovemaking, I almost felt like I could go on forever, giving her endless pleasure, but she gripped me so tightly now in the thrall of orgasm that I now felt myself perilously close.

I began to withdraw, and she jerked, startled.

"No! Don't leave me. It's okay, just fill me. Please, I want you to fill me."

The pleasure and pressure was too much, and I very soon after did just that. I made one last deep thrust, and unraveled a thick ribbon of my seed helplessly into her. She moaned and quivered as she felt it, pressing back hard against me, until one more weak spasm later. Feeling that I was done, she fell forward onto her stomach. For long moments, the only sound was our labored breathing, random creaks from the house settling, and the background susurrations of breaking waves on the shore outside. When she moved again, it was only to curl up in my arms, pressing her back against my chest. I slipped my arms around her, just under her breasts and buried my face in the abundance of her hair. It was at this point that I floated off to sleep.

My dream was at first terrifying. I found myself deep in the ocean, floating somewhere within, vast expanses of water all around me. I kicked and surged, but brought myself no closer to the surface. In fact I could sense that I hadn't moved an inch from where I was. My struggles ceased, since they were obviously useless. So I floated, quickly becoming calm, and even began to appreciate the ocean's embrace, its loving, watery arms wrapped around me as intimately as a lover, and even more so. The terror of the dream faded, and I found peace in it. I floated. I was the ocean, and the ocean was me, and we were one.

When I woke, I felt refreshed, and the dream, unlike most others I'd had, did not fade from me. Indeed, it stayed with me as I opened my eyes. I was at peace as I'd never been before. That peace lessened a little when I found that Mae was no longer in my arms, or in my bed. I sat up and looked around. Her clothes were gone. I got up and strode through my house, searching every room for Mae, but she was gone.

'Story of my life,' I heard her voice in my head, as clearly as if she'd spoken it aloud right behind me. In fact, I was so startled that I whirled around, half-expecting to find her there, gloriously nude, just waiting to slip into my arms. I was disappointed to find that she was not behind me. Still naked, I sat in a chair at my kitchen table and lay my head on the cool wood of the table. Again, after such soaring exhilaration of finding Mae, I was alone.

Again, in my head, Mae spoke, "Not always."

Surprised, I spoke aloud, "How is that?"

Mae's answer was, "You found me."

I laughed hollowly, feeling more than ever like bursting into tears. I was remembering our conversation from last night. I had feverishly hoped to find her here with me, but it seemed that all I had after all were my memories. I went through those memories, recalling our conversation, the crazy way that they had started.

"Sorry," I mumbled, "I just saw you sitting there, and decided to check on you, make sure you were okay."

'I'm fine," she had said, but she hadn't been, not at all, speaking of going into the ocean and those seconds of terror, gasping for air and getting only seawater. Sitting at my table, perilously close to tears, I hoped that I had helped her feel better, given her something to live for, a purpose.

Later on that month, I drifted listlessly, walking the beach, daring to hope I'd find her there, contemplating the depths of the ocean. I walked the beach both day and night, but I did not find her. Not until the end of that month. I drove into town and bought some groceries. I didn't buy beer. For some reason, after the night with Mae, alcohol just held no attraction for me. As I put my purchases into my jeep, I looked over toward a one-story, sprawling building in need of paint. The faded letters on the front proclaimed: LIBRARY.

I was walking over towards it before I realized that I'd moved. It was hard to explain, but I felt as if some invisible current was pulling me toward the building, and I was helpless but to yield to this current. I reached the door and opened it, a cool draft of the air conditioning greeting me at the entrance. I walked past the front counter, nodding absently at the old librarian in a stiff-collared blouse. I passed the aisles of bookshelves into an area with tables spaced in two rows of three, kept going, and found myself in a large room with two machines made to view almost a hundred years of newspapers. Most of the newspapers were local, the Gillespie Herald, all of them were copied onto microfiche, easier to go through than mountainous heaps of old, dried papers, and less of a fire hazard. My hand moved over the film catalog, separated by dates, seemingly aimless until my hand stopped as if stayed, on the previous year. The month was June, the beginning of the summer last year. I had been in Cleveland that summer, visiting relatives, eating like a pig at the reunion barbeque.

I picked up the microfiche and loaded it quickly and effortlessly into the machine though I'd never before used one. June 1st, no, not the first, nor the second. I kept moving the dial, day after day slipping past, until I stopped, and my eyes froze, tears forming and slipping unnoticed down my cheeks. June 23rd, of 2007, and on the front page of the Herald was Mae Sung smiling shyly in a picture, her delicate hand forever frozen in the process of tucking a strand of her silky black hair behind her left ear.

Two young children, swimming near the south shore of Gillespie Beach happened upon the corpse of a woman at around eight in the morning. The police responded to a frantic 9-1-1 call placed by a frantic mother, and pulled the corpse from the water, where, according to the chief medical examiner, Vick Mallory, it had been for at least four hours, just before sunrise. The corpse was later identified as 24-year-old Mae Sung, a local woman. No signs of foul play were detected, and the cause of death was listed as "Death By Misadventure."

"It's very easy to drift too far from shore," Sheriff Bryce Mitchell explained at a press conference, "And just as easy to become disoriented since the currents are often unpredictable. Still, it's tragic when something like this happens, especially when it happens to a young woman like Mae Sung, who seemed to have such a promising life ahead of her."

The tears blurred my eyes too much to make any sense from the rest of the article, but I had seen enough. I had seen too much. I removed the microfiche with trembling hands and returned it to its spot. Stunned, shocked, none of these words did justice. I returned to my jeep, drove home, and put all the groceries up, only able to function because I didn't have to think about it. I couldn't for the life of me explain what had happened last night. Maybe Mae had a sister who liked to use her deceased sibling's name. Maybe it was some prank. Anything seemed more plausible than the idea that was going through my mind. I waited for the sun to go down, and went for a walk.

I walked slowly, knowing that I was foolish. I knew that I wouldn't find Mae sitting there, because Mae Sung had died just over a year ago. Nevertheless I walked. I recalled our conversation again, moving along from word to word. She had spoken of just plunging into the ocean and relinquishing her life to the arms of the ocean. Perhaps she had done just that. Maybe she had panicked just as she had said, but I doubted now that she was able to get back to the shore after all. She had gasped for air, only to breath the ocean into her lungs. The lack of buoyancy from the misplaced air in her lungs would pull her down, and after a few flagging kicks and struggles, the life would leave her body, and she would be cradled by the current.

I was crying again, the tears flowing silently as I remembered the dream. It hadn't been a dream, I was suddenly sure, but a last memory from the eyes and mind of Mae. My mind was whirling so fiercely, I almost didn't see her. Her head emerged, about sixteen feet or so from the shore, her black hair plastered to her head. Her face appeared above the water, and more as she moved towards me. I stopped, my hands fluttering uselessly. I think I had intended on bringing my hands to my face, maybe covering my eyes, because this could not be happening. Mae was wearing her simple sleeveless, white shirt, stuck to her skin, her breasts almost completely visible behind the saturated fabric. She was also wearing the same black shorts; they dripped continuously as she walked up the gentle slope onto land. She was as beautiful as the night I'd first met her, completely unlike the corpse that two unfortunate children had most likely found over a year ago. She gazed at me pleadingly as she came toward me.

I wanted to run. I wanted to race to her, to hold her in my arms again. I stood there, immobilized by fear and awe. When she reached me, she just looked at me imploringly.

When she spoke, it was not the wet rasp of a cadaver suddenly imbued with terrible consciousness, like in the movies. It was the same sweet, lilting, silky-smoky voice I remembered from that night, and from endless memories.

"I was afraid you would hate me."

"How?" I whispered. My voice would not produce much more than that, my throat felt so tight and thick.

"I didn't want to leave you. The ocean called to me, and I had to obey. I felt horrible for keeping the truth from you. That's why I sent you to the library, to learn the truth. Even if you hated me for it, I wanted you to know the truth."

"I..." I choked back a sob, reaching to her and touching her cheek, her hair, "I could never hate you. I only wanted you back. Did you..."

She seemed to understand what I couldn't say, "At first, that was why I swam out. But when I became too tired to keep myself afloat, I suddenly did not want to die. I tried to make it back, but then I swallowed the water, and went under."

"My dream..."

"Yes, your dream. I wanted you to know the peace I felt once it was too late. The ocean, she allowed me to walk the beach. So I did. Still, I was so alone, even though so many people walk the beach at night. So many people."

"So alone," I half-sobbed.

"Not always."

I couldn't say it, but I didn't have to.

"After all, you found me, didn't you?"

I nodded, the pressure on my heart too much, I felt it would implode.

"You found me, noticed me as so many others didn't. You just wanted to make sure I was okay. I said I was fine."

"But you weren't."

"No, I wasn't. But you made everything better. You did for me what nobody else could. What was the reason I had for wanting to live?"

"A purpose," I sighed miserably, "You had a purpose, a reason that you were alive. You wanted to find that purpose."

"Better late than never. I never figured it out until after. I had a whole purpose for living, and even though I'm wasn't alive anymore, I still searched for it. But I didn't find it. It found me. And it said that he was just checking on me to make sure I was okay."

I shook my head, "It can't be."

"But it can. My purpose, my whole reason for the life I'd thrown away, was you. And now that I have found my purpose, the ocean has agreed to let me go home. I just wanted to see you one more time before I go."

"Please..." I slumped, "I can't...you..."

"But you must. I found my purpose...my purpose found me. But your purpose is still waiting to find you."

"You're my purpose," I cried out, "And when you leave, there's nothing."

"No," she stroked my cheek with a warm hand, "As much as I wished I was still alive to be your purpose, I'm not. But you'll find it soon enough. I just hope you'll realize it when you see it."

She dropped her hand, "But I have to go now. My time here is done, but I'll never forget you. For the only time in my life, and even after, I felt truly loved, and I'll never forget what that feels like."

She started to turn, and I flung myself into her arms. Only my legs, weakened in my grief, spilled me to my knees. I pressed my face into the sodden front of her shirt, tasting the salt of the sea. Her hands cradled my head for a moment, and then I lost consciousness.

I woke with a start. I was lying curled up on my side in the sand. The sun had come up.

"Are you okay?"

I shook my head, the sand falling from my hair. No more...it was too much to stand.

A hand touched my shoulder, "Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

I rolled over onto my back, the sun biting viciously into my eyes. I blinked and squinted.

Then a cool shadow fell over my face and I was able to see. My breath caught as dark eyes peered into mine, the concern evident.

"Can you sit up?" she asked.

I nodded, but I still needed her assistance to sit. She brushed the sand from my hair and shirt, fussing over me.

"Did you fall asleep out here? That can be dangerous, you know? You're way too close to the water. You could've drowned."

"I did," I whispered.

"Huh?" she looked at me worriedly.

"But I didn't."

"Did you bump your head?"

"Not hard enough, I guess," I muttered.

Gradually she got me to my feet. I swayed slightly, but slowly gained my balance.

"I'm glad you're alright," the woman laughed, relieved. "Do you realize how many people drown every year?"

I looked down at the beach, where the waves broke on the wet sand. My breath caught again, and I felt dizzy. There were footprints leading to the water, which was steadily erasing them. Tears sprouted in my eyes at the sight. The woman looked at me curiously.

"She said goodbye. She came back to say goodbye."

She looked at me oddly, but with sympathy, "Well, that's more than most people do. Usually they just go away and leave you alone."

I nodded, and then said something that struck a chord in my heart, "Story of my life."

A short Epilogue

"Sweetie?" A hand touched my face, worried.

The hand stroked my face, and then the soft voice, "Darling?"

I awoke gradually to find two dark, mysterious eyes on mine. Mae?

The face cleared, and I realized I'd been crying.

It wasn't Mae, but Holly. She looked concerned, just as she had that morning three months ago, when she had found me too close to the water.

I smiled tremulously, "I'm fine."

"Were you having a nightmare?"

"No," I shook my head, "Just peaceful."

"Peaceful enough to make you cry in your sleep?"

I nodded, and kissed my purpose for living.