The Extended Weekend

"That will be enough of that Swift." I remember telling myself: "Don't over analyze, let her take the lead (where ever it takes us) and just enjoy."

The salon was warm and wine was pleasant and I must have dozed off; in fact I know I did for I remember being startled awake from the sound of the head flushing. Then she emerged in the hallway came up to me and while looking directly into my eyes she took my left wrist in her soft little right hand and led me into my master suite.

There was no shadow of reluctance, no inquisitive reaction to any degree on my part for in that moment in time; I knew I would have followed her anywhere. To my utter shock and amazement, she confidently had the spread, blanket and top sheet already turned back by half and while staring deep in the center of my soul she started to slowly disrobe.

Totally without a thought, consideration or whim, I stripped down to accommodate and within seconds, we lay together with the covers pulled up over our shoulders.

With only the dim red glow of the nightstand clock and the constant sound of hard rain on the teak deck above, I lay silent awaiting her next move and she slowly snuggled up against me.

With my breath labored and my heart pounding from pure adrenaline, it was all that I could do to control myself from fear that if whatever was about to happen wasn't all her, it wouldn't happen at all and a soft smooth little palm started to explore what she had obviously come this far to experience.

In reaction, I instinctively started to sit but she was on me in an instant pressing my shoulders back into my pillow while slowly sliding her hands to either side of my face before initiating one long slow first kiss as her silky smooth flesh became warm and moist on top of me. As she moved her angelic face down just past my breastbone my throbbing manhood made contact and without so much as a second of foreplay she worked and worked to finally sleeve her tight flesh down over and onto me.

Though there are no written words to express what actually happened for the next hour, I can tell you that it was she who was in charge. Though I tried from the very center of my being to hold off, her womanly flesh started to convulse around my manhood and as that familiar white light -flash manifested in my head the animalistic feeling of what was uncontrollably about to unfold began building in by loins, twitching in my testicles before crashing in my chest and my heart was pounding, my lungs were burning and as I started to uncontrollably release her muscle tone began to slowly drain everything from inside of me.

With my chest heaving my breathing extremely labored and the loud sound of my heart beat filling the cabin, I hugged our two sweat soaked bodies tightly together, hell I wasn't ready to let go at the time, in fact I didn't want so much as an inch of space between us and though I was thoroughly satisfied at that point and of course totally exhausted at my age, like any other man I told myself: "Just take a few minutes to recover Swiftt, and then roll to where you are the one on top and the man in charge and take her again."

When I woke the following morning at four a.m. she was gone leaving only her sweet scent lingering throughout my suite. When I threw back the covers and bolted out of bed, I knew before my feet hit the floor that I would never see her again. But I had to look for her.

In the darkness, I could tell that little homemade boat was gone and I stood in the cold chill of that November morning air wondering if this had all a dream or if I had actually died and my boat and I had gone to Heaven together. But with the tell tale presence of her sweet feminine nectar still coating my manhood proved otherwise.

With feelings of strange forbidden contentment, sadness and confusion, I finally went back below where I just sat in the corner chair in my suite trying to figure out if I had suffered form of a mild stroke and imagined everything or maybe even hallucinated it, but with her scent still on me and her unmistakable fragrance still in the air of my suit and all over my comforter and sheets, I knew better.

When finally I dressed, ground the dark roast beans to make my espresso I found myself back on deck and it was starting to get light and I heard the sound of a motor drawing nearing my location so I stood at the gunwale to watch as the small fast looking Shore Patrol boat pierced the haze and slowly motor alongside me.

Within seconds a young woman in uniform sporting a pen and pad climbed between the openings in the windshield and stood on the front deck asking: "Hart of Joy is it? Have you been here long?"

Not in the mood for any debate with a 'cub' over my boats operations, I answered as friendly and professionally as I could manage: "No, Just overnight. I just took an extended weekend from work to get her out to blow some of the cobwebs and dust off of her sails. We'll be headed back north tonight"

Before she could ask me the standard questions about crew size, registration and such, her professional officer like facial expressions changed and she blurted out: "Did you see her?" Not knowing exactly how to react I paused and with her eyes fixed on that tiny beach she repeated her question a bit stronger that time: "DID YOU SEE HER?" And when she pointed over at the sand with her pen I started down the ladder.

There on that narrow little beach was a circular imprint about three feet in diameter sculpted so perfectly with images of the plant life, that fawn and it was so photo perfect it actually looked as if it had been stamped into the sand. In the center was the unmistakable image of her face underscored with some form of writing or symbols.

As the young female officer started taking pictures, without ever looking away she stated the obvious: "My God man you did see her! Before I leave here you have to tell me everything about your encounter."

Without being capable of thought I reacted: "I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THAT!" Then I qualified: "This is the first time that I've seen it! What is it?"

It's a communication, it's a sign and it's a Seminole symbol of love undying gratitude and devotion!" She responded back so fast that her words ran together. Without trying to hide her excitement she added: "Very sacred, very sacred indeed!"

Though I'm sure at the time that I totally believed her and there was no doubt she believed what she was saying, as I comprehended her every spoken word all that I could manage to respond with was: "Are you serious?"

After taking what seemed to be hundreds of photos, she told me that she would personally see to it that I was copied, then she stood silent for a moment as if she was contemplating something, then she requested to come aboard my boat.

For the next hour she picked my brain and I detailed our visit and I told her everything with the exception to our sexual encounter. But for some unknown reason I felt that she knew and I remembered hoping at that moment she would leave without asking about it.

When she finally stood to return to her boat and waiting crew, she told me how fortunate I was informing me that she was of Seminole heritage and she told me that she had been following this legend since she was a young child.

As she descended the ladder to return to her boat she smiled and said: "Captain, if you're leaving this morning you might want to get under way to beat the rain."

"Rain, what rain? I remember asking her: "As of early this morning there is no rain in the forecast." I explained: "I'm equipped with NOAA!"

"Trust me Mr. Swift." She explained: "When she leaves that sign sir, there is always rain, and a lot of it." Then just before firing up their craft to leave the cove, she looked up dead in my eyes said something that actually startled me: "The Seminoles call that rain tears of the brokenhearted Princess."

I stood kind of frozen at the gunwale and a little numb as the sounds of her engines took life ... and shortly after they eased from the cove, they were gone.

Without realizing I was actually saying it out loud: "Make preparations for open water Old Girl! Came out of my mouth and though I really didn't want to leave just then, I started quickly preparing for our departure.

As the Heart of Joy's joystick magically positioned us to slowly motor from that cove, I found myself aft staring at her little patch of beach and as it grew smaller while we distanced ourselves, from a clear and beautiful morning sky came rain, a lot of it.

A few weeks later I received a large mailer from that young Coastguard lieutenant with nice friendly letter thanking me for sharing my experiences and many clear pictures of what she referenced as "my" personal massage.

I took what I thought to be the best views to an associate and had two life size replicas laser-jetted into the one wall hanging in my office that Cheryl has secretly admired and the other that hangs over my fireplace in my Missouri home and later had a third cut and inlaid into the paver by my pool where I sit mornings to enjoy the first light of day with my memories of her while enjoying my espresso.

Though I haven't yet totally retired, I had the office art that Cheryl so admired professionally boxed and delivered to her door the anniversary of her twentieth year with me. It was rare that she requested the day off and thinking it more fitting than a card or a cake I had it couriered to her home.

I still get down sometimes with the feeling of sadness over the three magical women that I have lost during my life. One who honored me as my wife for over two decades, one with the latter six years of her beautiful life and of course the one who shared the one day and night of the only extended weekend that I will ever take, but God always seems to remind me that I was not only blessed, but that I should be thankful that I had that precious time to be with the three of them at all.

You see he informed me that suffering grief over the loss of a loved one is the selfish feelings of the living fore for those who have passed over in His grace can only be bathed in unlimited peace and happiness that He provides them for all eternity.