Romancing the Bequia Mermaid

From the quiet ferry wharf, we strolled to the end of the shady Belmont Walk and then followed a path around a rocky point to Princess Margaret Beach and the restaurant. The hostess knew Karen by name; she was clearly a regular.

"So," I asked when we had placed our orders, "What do you do when you're not charming Caribbean tourists?"

She smiled at the compliment and her eyes twinkled. "I'm an attorney back in New England."

A confident answer that offered two follow-ups, 'what kind of attorney?' or 'where in New England?'. I went with the former.

"Oh, really? What kind of attorney?"

"Oh, the dullest kind—Corporate. Approve this disclaimer, review that contract, prepare another statement. It's a tedious way to make a living, but it pays for me to come here often enough to make it worthwhile. How about you, Marty? What do you do when you're not sailing between islands?"

"I'm a forensic accountant," I replied, hoping it wouldn't be the conversation killer it usually was.

"Oh, that must be fascinating work!"

"Uh, well..." I was a bit taken aback. "Nobody's ever called it 'fascinating' before. Most people think I do taxes for CSIs." She laughed at that and put her hand on my arm. Her laugh was musical.

"Well, I've worked enough mergers to know the importance of good forensic accountancy. Do you do criminal investigations or corporate audits?"

"Civil investigations are our bread and butter, but we have contracts with several law enforcement agencies as well."

"I'm sure your life is just as exciting as Kat Carter's." She was teasing me with that, but I didn't mind at all.

"Right, Kat Carter, from the books by, um..." I'd heard of the character before, but never read any of the novels. I was racking my brain trying to come up with the name of the author, or even the series. "Is it Karen Kross? Wait... You're not-"

"No, Colleen Cross," she corrected, laughing. "But I'm flattered you think I could ever be a writer. I'm not at all creative, but I do love other people's fantasies."

"So you're into high-finance crime novels, then?"

"Among other genres," she smiled, "spy thrillers, murder mysteries," and with a twinkle in her eye she added "erotica..."

"Oh! If you had waited until I had taken a sip of water, you could have seen me choke on that last one."

"Darn. I never was very good at timing."

The conversation came easily. Our food arrived and she was right about the chicken—best I'd ever had. Maybe it was the company. We talked about New England and California, my kids, her volunteer work, books, movies, politics. We lingered over coffee until early in the afternoon.

"Thank you for a lovely lunch, Marty," Karen began after I had declined her offer to split the check. "But I'm afraid I have to be going now."

"Is there any chance I can see you again for dinner?" I asked, standing and offering her my hand.

"I'm sorry," she replied, accepting. "But I'm not traveling alone. And since this is our last night on the island, I'm afraid we have plans tonight that I really can't break."

"Well... It was a pleasure meeting you, Karen. It's been the highlight of my trip."

"I know you were hoping for more," she leaned into me and kissed my cheek. "It would have been nice. But like I said... I never was very good at timing."

I watched her stroll away back up the path towards the Belmont Walk. More specifically I watched the way her hips swayed in the white cotton sundress. When she'd rounded a bend and was out of sight, I turned the other direction to walk down the beach.

Well, damn.

I tried to convince myself that Karen was just good practice, that she wasn't special, that it would work out better with the next woman... that I wasn't infatuated with her. I tried.

The afternoon was spent checking out a sea cave on the beach and an old fort on a hill—both sights Karen recommended. I went back to Jack's for dinner and lied to myself about why. As the sun set and the dinner crowd became the bar crowd, I decided I wasn't in the mood to socialize anymore. So I went back to the Right Off with a plan to plot a course to Mustique, about thirteen nautical miles away, and prepare for a morning departure.

But first I thought I'd enjoy another glass of scotch and the moonlight in the pleasant evening air. I sat on the deck listening to the dissonant mix of music drifting across the bay, dangled my toes in the water and tried not to feel sorry for myself. As I watched the light show of reflections play across the surface of the water, movement on the beach caught my eye.

It was the girl in the white bikini, out again for another moonlight stroll. I'm not proud to admit that I had hung out up on deck in the hopes that she would be back.

Just like the night before, she disrobed hidden in the shadows among the palm trees, barely visible. As the naked girl moved cautiously into the moonlight she checked the beach in both directions before quickly crossing the sand into the surf. But as she dashed across the open beach, I caught the unmistakable metallic glint of silver at her wrists and ankles and around her neck.

Could it be? Karen? I sat in awe for moment, amazed at the very idea that the mermaid frolicking in the surf only thirty yards away wasn't a carefree twenty-something dilettante at all, but a woman of my own generation, with all of the responsibilities and hang-ups that come with age.

My heart raced as I watched her in the water. I desperately wanted her to draw close enough for me to recognize her, but I was terrified that she might spot me watching and recognize me. Part of me wanted to run back into the cabin, but a stronger part couldn't tear myself away from the erotic spectacle. Sitting on the deck ogling her, I felt as naked and exposed as she was.

She was drawing closer, venturing further from shore tonight, risking the presence of the boats anchored in deeper water. Avoiding the larger yachts with their underwater accent lights, she dove beneath the surface. I glanced at the nearby boats to see if anyone else was watching her. There were more people out tonight, and several boats were brightly illuminated. But no one seemed to have taken notice of the woman skinny-dipping nearby.

She emerged again scarcely ten yards away from where I sat, and even in the moonlight, with her sable hair plastered to her head, her profile was unmistakable.

"Karen?" I called out softly, before I could stop myself.

I'd startled her and her eyes went wide. She let herself sink to her chin and looked about frantically before spotting me. It took just a moment to recognize me in the moonlight and she relaxed visibly, treading water until her bare shoulders emerged and her chest hid just under the dark surface.

"Marty?" she called back, swimming towards me.

"Yeah, hi. So are these the big plans you had for tonight?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound bitter or judgmental.

"No," she replied, smiling wistfully, "this is just... one last opportunity. How was your afternoon?"

"It was good," I answered, scooting forward on the deck as she treaded water a few feet away. "I walked out to that cave you mentioned, and I got up to Fort Hamilton—enjoyed them both."

"Seriously? You enjoyed Fort Hamilton?"

"Well... I'm a dad. I spent so many years telling my kids that boring, historic sites like that were fun, that I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't say I enjoyed it."

"Ahh... Have you seen anything else you enjoyed?"

With a kick, she bobbed up out of the water until her bare breasts were exposed for a fleeting moment before she sank back down with a wicked grin.

"I have now! I didn't realize nude bathing was legal on Bequia."

"Oh, it's not! Want to join me?" she invited conspiratorially, her eyes flashing with excitement. "The water's perfect."

I looked about at the other boats. The anchorage was crowded, so the closest was only about twenty yards away. My own deck lights were dark, and no one seemed to be paying us any attention. So I hastily pulled off my clothes and slipped naked off the deck into the warm Caribbean water.

"Nice, isn't it?" Karen asked as I swam up to her. Without the drag of a swimsuit, the water flowing around my groin was a new and stimulating experience.

Karen and I dove and swam and splashed around the boat, laughing like kids. We were less cautious now because we had the hull to hide us, at least partially. Unfortunately, I hadn't been swimming since the kids had taken lessons at the local YWCA pool. So after about fifteen minutes, I found myself clinging to the transom ladder to catch my breath.

"Ok..." I panted, "I need a break... Would you like to come aboard and sit for a few minutes?"

"I'd like that," Karen responded, treading water a few feet away from me.

I climbed out cautiously and looked around at the other boats to make sure no one was watching before I darted up to the locker by the cockpit, pulled out a towel, and wrapped it around my waist. The night breeze was cool on my wet skin, and despite my fatigue I felt exhilarated as I turned back aft to see Karen coming aboard.

She climbed the transom ladder, one slow step at a time, as the seawater coursed down her bare skin in rivulets that snaked along her contours and trickled off into the bay. In the moonlight she glistened. With her feet at last on the deck, she reached up to wring the water from her dark hair, her hip cocked to one side. With her arms raised, her breasts lifted and tightened against her chest. She was a goddess of the sea—the kind who lure sailors to a doom they are all too happy to embrace.

Her body curved in all the right ways in all the right places. Her breasts fell in gentle handfuls and in profile the shadow of pert little nipples stood proud against the night sky. A silver chain attached to her navel piercing and draped around the soft sweep of her waist. The shape of her hips curved in a way that begged to be grabbed from behind and her long legs were toned from swimming.

Not the over-tight body of girl with nothing else to offer, this was a woman's body carried with confidence and wiles earned over years of experience.

I took a moment too long to admire her before I remembered my manners.

"Welcome Aboard! Can I get you a towel?"

"Why would I want a towel?" she asked coyly, strolling along the deck, her hips swaying provocatively as the boat rocked gently beneath her feet.

I shook my head and chuckled. "You know Karen, you have an exhibitionist streak that is very sexy."

"I know," she agreed. "What else is sexy about me?" she purred, taking my hand as I steadied her step down from the deck into the recessed cockpit.

"That's a long list. It'll take some time to get through it all. Would you like a drink first? The bar is well stocked."

"Hmm..." she considered as she sat nude on the starboard side of the cockpit's cushioned bench, crossing her legs and spreading her arms across the low back. "I never cared for alcohol," she responded, wrinkling her nose in the most adorable way. "What else have you got?"

"Uh... Pineapple juice, a couple cans of Coke, a jug of iced tea. I could make some coffee."

"Iced tea would be lovely."

"I'll be right back."

"I'll be right here."

I stepped down into the galley and filled two glasses with ice wondering just how badly I'd have to screw up to blow this opportunity. I figured I'd never hear the end of it from Betsy if I didn't at least try to take a shot. So after I filled the glasses with tea, I tossed my own towel aside and boldly walked back up to the cockpit fully nude.

Karen sat in the moonlight, draped in silver jewelry around her neck, wrists, fingers, waist, and ankles. Silver dripped from her ears and sparkled in her pierced navel. The effect was magical. She was like something out of an Edgar Rice Burroughs novel—an earth-bound Deja Thoris bathed in cool silver instead of fiery gold.

"Here you are," I offered a glass of iced tea and sat on the bench opposite her, and in the narrow walkway between us our calves brushed against each other.

"Why thank you," she accepted, looking me up and down. "Did you change just for me, Marty?"

"I did. I wouldn't want a guest to be uncomfortable." I was beginning to swell, not yet erect, but enough that I'm sure my interest was obvious. "Now, I think I was about to tell you what else I find sexy about you."

"I was hoping you would."

"Would it be too cliché to start with your breasts?"

"No, they're too small," she demurred.

"Not at all. They're just the right size and shape—prominent without being flamboyant. Those perky pink nipples fit them just right, too. And I love that scattering of freckles above your tan line. I bet they all fade away during the winter, don't they?"

"They do," she admitted.

"No wonder you like the islands. I'm lucky you had two weeks of sun before I got here."

"Hmm, lucky you," she smiled "What else?"

"I love your jewelry, how you keep it on to swim. Do you sleep in it too?"

"It's too much trouble to keep taking it all off and putting it back on."

"I'm sure," I agreed. "Silver stands out against your tan so well. It makes your skin seem darker, more exotic. I can imagine you asleep on crisp, white linen, silver jewelry dripping off your tan skin. Very sexy."

"You think I sleep naked?"

"I hope so. I'd be a little disappointed if you didn't."

"Well, I won't disappoint you then."

"Good. Oh... I just noticed that little tattoo on your hip."

"You want a closer look?"

"May I?"

She shifted on the cushion to bring her left hip closer to me, and I put my hand on her thigh and brushed away a few stray droplets of sea water with my thumb. Stenciled there, just below her hip bone, was an elegant flower and vine motif done in a classic, old-school style. The faded edges suggested it had been there for many years.

"Simple, elegant, and discreet... Very sexy."

She laughed at that. "But you just noticed it. Are you done with your list already?"

"Not remotely. I also like the shape of your ass."

"Now you're just making things up," she objected. "My ass is flat."

"Your mirror might be flat. Your ass isn't. You haven't seen it when you swim. When you dive down and you bend at the waist and your backside breaches the water in a graceful curve with those long, long legs of yours trailing behind."

She rolled her eyes. "A trick of the moonlight."

"Mmm... Could be. Why don't you stand up and let me have a better look?"

She gave me a cute little smirk, but without saying a word, she set down her glass and stood and turned her back to me with her hands on her hips. Of course her ass wasn't super-model perfect—at our age, no one's is, not even super-models. But it certainly wasn't flat and I enjoyed the view for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary.

"Sorry Counselor, there's nothing flat about it. The verdict stands," I told her. "That is a sexy backside."

"Fine," she conceded, only instead of returning to the opposite bench, she sat down next to me with her feet bent up behind her and put her hand on my bare thigh. "What else?"

"Well, you seem to have this self-deprecating modesty that is very cute."

"Cute?" she asked, leaning into me. "But not sexy?"

"Oh, on you 'cute' is sexy... and pretty... and... several other synonyms I can't... seem to think of... right now."

She was looking up at me and the moonlight was reflected in her bright brown eyes making them shine with the same desire that I was feeling. I was more than just swelling now. I had been building on a plan to tell her how sexy her eyes were, and then her lips... fuck it.

I turned towards her and took her head in my hand and I kissed her. And Karen kissed me back and our lips parted and my tongue found hers and I was glad I'd taken the chance.

She tasted of salt brine and smelled like an ocean breeze. My fingers tangled in her damp hair. Against my naked flesh, her skin was hot and her jewelry was cool, and my senses we're overwhelmed by her.

Our kiss went on and our hands explored each other and I tried not to think about Gwen but it was impossible. The breasts that filled my hands were not my ex-wife's. Karen's legs were longer and the patch of fluff I stroked between them was a different texture and a different trim. The hands first on my ass and then on my balls didn't squeeze me the same, and the skin under my lips didn't taste the same.

Every stroke and caress and lick and gaze was the same but oh so delightfully new and different. We shifted on the bench changing posture and position, over and over, exposing new and tantalizing flesh to roam. I could have spent hours exploring Karen's body and being explored.

All at once, her hands found my shoulders and she pushed me back up and straddled my lap on her knees in a sitting lotus position. She held my face in her hands as I craned my neck back to keep my mouth against hers. My hands wandered down her ribs to her waist and pulled her into me, my erection pressed between us.

Her lips broke from mine and she looked down at me resplendent with the moonlight behind her.

"Do you want me, Marty?" she asked in a husky voice, thick with desire.

"I do. I need you," I whispered in the darkness.

I looked around at the other boats anchored nearby. There were definitely people out on deck, and not too far from us. We were somewhat concealed in the sunken cockpit—up on her knees, Karen was certainly more exposed than I was—so I tried to put the other boats out of my mind.

I just couldn't bring myself to ignore every concern though.

"I have condoms inside," I offered.

"I don't think we need one. I feel safe with you. Do you feel safe with me?"

"Karen, you may be the most daring and dangerous woman I've ever met. I feel alive with you."

And I pulled her face back down to mine and I pressed my mouth to hers as she adjusted my erection until my cockhead was nestled between her blossoming folds. I pushed my hips up and she forced hers down and she moaned into my mouth as my fingers dug into her ass.

"Oh God, Marty," she moaned, rolling her head back. "You have no idea how much I needed this."

I kissed her jaw and her throat and traced the line of her collarbone with my tongue and muttered "I think I have some idea." Her soft breasts pressed against my shoulders and I felt every whisker of stubble on my cheeks brush across the galaxy of freckles on her chest.

The cool of silver bracelets against my shoulders sent a shiver down my spine. She rode my cock slowly and deliberately, pacing each thrust to the rocking of the boat in the gentle surf. Her every gasp and moan was punctuated with the jingling of her jewelry.

"Mmmm... Ohhh... Mmm-Marty... Yesss..." she murmured, and I caught her glancing over my shoulder for any sign that she'd been heard.

"You don't want to be seen?" I gasped pressing myself up and into her with a bit more vigor.

"I don't mind being seen... Ahhh... I don't want to be... Mmmph... caught... I might have gotten a ticket... Uhnnn... for skinny dipping... last year." The mock-innocence in her smile was unmistakable and adorable.

"Lady cop? Obviously jealous?"

"Obviously," she grinned. Karen shifted her posture to lean forward into me and her hips worked frantically against my groin. I moved my hands up to her shoulders to pull myself tighter into her and she started to groan, then bit her lip to restrain herself.

Between the risk of being caught at any moment, the look of urgent desire on Karen's face, and the way she was desperately fucking me, I hadn't been so stimulated in years. My cock ached with need inside of her, and despite my best efforts at restraint, I felt myself approaching the brink.

Suddenly a bell rang out somewhere off the bow. Karen pulled herself tight against my chest and we both froze in the darkness, panting quietly. We both looked anxiously, but saw only a mooring buoy, bobbing in the wake of a passing ferry.