The Last Wave Goodbye

I finished the rest of the wine by myself and went to bed.

* * * *

Over the following couple of days, I did not hear from Nina. I honestly was not surprised. If she had come over with the intention of seeking sex, and having clearly not found it, I could not blame her for not wanting to waste her time with me again.

With little else to do, I took to morning swims in the ocean, followed by minimalist meals. Abandoning the "ruffian" look I sported, I shaved off the beginnings of my beard and refrained from drinking, considering the tumultuous nightmares I suffered following my evening with Nina. Those I attributed to too much alcohol.

I called my mother. She was being cared for by a live-in nurse provided by her insurance and my additional financial support, so I had little reason to worry for her day-to-day well being. As the only real remaining member of my family, my mother was the last anchor attached to the world in which I lived.

"Are you doing alright?" I asked her.

"I'm fine," she said, following a barrage of bronchial coughing. "Lily's taking good care of me, as always. How's your vacation? Met anyone?"

I rolled my eyes. "I've met a neighbor," I said, indulging a little white lie. "He's old and fat and doesn't speak English. Not my type."

My mother laughed. "No pretty young beach girls?" she asked teasingly.

"No, none of those."

"Maybe that's just as well, they might talk you into staying there."

"Don't worry, mom," I told her. "I promise I'll see you soon."

* * * *

Being something of a fair swimmer, I made it all the way out toward a sandbar which lay a good two hundred yards or so from the beach. The water beyond was dark and cool, in contrast with the warmer, lighter-hued body swirling lazily between the bar and the beach. The edge of the continental shelf, I assumed. Even standing on the sandbar in less than two feet of water, I could feel the insistent pull of a powerful current, as gently nefarious as a siren's call.

One step over the edge would be enough to do it, I realized, and backed away. I plunged back into the warmer, safer embrace of the lagoon and headed back to shore.

"You want to be careful about going past the sandbar," a voice called as I trudged through the roiling surf at the edge of the beach. I lifted my head to see Nina standing in her stark white bikini . . . or, just the skimpy bottom, anyway. Her dark breasts hung free upon an athletic chest, nipples a shade darker even than the skin surrounding them. Based on the almost perfect roundness of the fleshy globes, I surmised they were implants. Not that the fact made her any less sexy.

"Yeah, I could feel the tide pulling at my legs," I said as I slapped wet feet upon the sand. "Don't think I'll be swimming that far out any time soon."

She cocked her head, assessing me as if we had just met. "Hector didn't tell you about the ultima ola?"

I frowned. "The what?"

"Ultima Ola," she repeated. "The Last Wave. According to local legends, the souls of drowned sailors swim just past the sandbar, waiting to drag people to their death."

I arched a brow. "I guess I'd better be careful, then. Wouldn't want any dead souls pulling me under."

For several heartbeats, neither one of us spoke a word. We stood just a few paces apart, me naked and uncaring, she topless and otherwise nearly nude. In any other context, the moment could have been the prelude to some torrid From Here To Eternity scene of reckless passion.

"I'm sorry I offended you," I said at last.

Her brow furrowed. "You didn't offend me," she said.

I nodded as I stepped past, toward my beach chair and towel. "Yes I did." I took up the towel and dabbed my face before turning back to her. "I turned you down."

Her eyes narrowed cattily. "Turned me down?"

I fixed her a look. "Nina," I said, almost patronizingly. "While we may not be old, we're both too old to play games. You wanted the other night to end a certain way. But I wasn't quite ready for that."

She faced me fully, in an almost challenging way. "Wait a sec. You think I came over because I wanted a booty call?"

I stared back. "Yes."

She started to glare, body language indicating the imminent release of a powerful vocal tirade. But then she softened, and actually smiled. I had been right, she knew it, and there was no reason to be coy about the matter. "Why aren't you ready?"

I smiled back, sheepishly. "I haven't had sex in over two years, Nina," I told her. "I haven't even masturbated. Hell, I can't remember the last time I actually had an erection. Truth is, I might be impotent, but I haven't even bothered to check."

She looked sympathetic. "What happened, Vincent?" she asked in a way that went beyond the immediate application of those words. It wasn't a 'what happened the other night' question. It was a 'what happened to you' question.

I sighed, averting my eyes. "That would be a very long conversation, and one that I don't think I want to have right now."

Nina's eyes dipped. "You're not divorced, are you?"

"No," I said flatly. "I'm not."

Her breasts rose and fell as she heaved a sigh. "Vincent, I'm sorry. I came down here to let loose and get away from some bad memories and just . . . feel alive again. I thought anonymous sex with a complete stranger would be a good way to do all that. Guess I was just being selfish."

I chuckled wryly. "You have no reason to apologize," I said. "You're an incredibly beautiful woman. I still can't believe we're pretty much the same age, because to look at you, I'd think you weren't even thirty. You just had the misfortune of taking a vacation next door a guy with a lot of baggage."

Her brow furrowed quizzically. "I think that's the strangest compliment I've ever gotten."

"As long as you take it as a compliment," I said.

She watched me as I toweled off and slipped my shorts on. "Vincent," she said at last.

I gave her a questioning look.

"You want to grab something to eat? You know, just two friends getting lunch together?"

I nodded with a smile. "Honestly, that sounds really good right now."

* * * *

We opted to walk to the little grocery down the street rather than drive. The air was warm and flavored by the sea, the sun glowing but not unpleasant. The grocery sold barbacoa tacos and had a few old weather-warped tables sitting out front. We ordered our lunch along with a couple of Mexican Cokes (made with real sugar, as opposed to the crap made in the states with corn syrup) and sat at the table, sharing anecdotes about our lives without getting too personal.

Afterward, we strolled through a local market and I bought Nina a straw hat with pink hearts painted upon it. She smiled demurely at the gesture and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. It was the closest gesture to intimacy we had shared yet.

I could not help but notice the ogles and almost outright lustful stares Nina in her skimpy white bikini earned. Men young and old stared at the exotic beauty walking beside me, and I could not help but think some of them were envious of our perceived intimacy. I could not deny that I enjoyed expounding upon the illusion, even going as far as to hold Nina's hand now and then, or touch her casually upon the arm or shoulder. Her presence was doing wonders for my ego.

We returned to my hacienda, mainly to get into some shade and relax before the TV. I cracked open a bottle of tequila and mixed it with orange juice and splashes of grenadine. Classic tequila sunrises.

"What did you want to be when you grew up?" Nina asked me as we sat on the broad couch facing the television.

I laughed. "Where did that come from?"

She shrugged. "I'm curious. What did little Vincent want to be when he was seven years old?"

"Oh, man . . ." I trailed off, thinking. "Well, I remember wanting to be Steve Austin," I said. "The Six Million Dollar Man was my favorite show. But I also wanted to be a race car driver, like Speed Racer."

Nina looked amused. "And then you ended up going into real estate."

"More like an accident of fortune that turned into a career," I said. "After six years in college, I ended up with a degree in marketing. I had no clue what to do with it. Then a friend suggested I join up with a guy he knew who had a little real estate business . . . turns out I was pretty good at flipping properties."

"Not exactly Steve Austin," she remarked.

"No, not exactly," I agreed. "What about you?"

"I . . . wanted to be a Playboy Centerfold," Nina declared.

I stared, surprised. "As a kid? That's what you wanted to be?"

She laughed. "Well, not exactly. But I did want to be a model. I was a tall, skinny kid in middle school. I remember being taller than all the boys in my class, even in seventh grade, and my teacher telling me I could be a model. The idea just sort of stuck."

"But . . . a Playboy Centerfold," I prompted.

She chuckled. "When I was a teenager, I found my dad's stash of Playboys. Not a single one of them was a black girl, and I thought, 'I could be the first black Playmate!' Of course, that didn't happen."

"Did you ever try modeling?"

Nina nodded. "After I turned eighteen, I auditioned for some local commercials, stuff like that. Made it onto a couple of of them, even did some print work. Had some, um, interesting experiences with a few less than reputable agencies."

"Let me guess: 'take your clothes off, baby, we'll make you a star!'"

Nina tossed her head back with a laugh. "You know, I think I actually heard those exact words, once." She shook her head ruefully. "Funny thing is, I think back now and wonder, if I had gone through with it, I could have been a killer porn star."

"You would have had a much different life," I said.

She nodded. "No shit," she agreed, then sighed wistfully. "Instead, I met Mr. Athlete and thought I was in love." She sipped her drink. "But I can't really regret it. Not all of it. I have two beautiful children that I love more than life. At least he could do that right."

A nostalgic wave of emotion passed through me. "Nothing better than being a parent," I said.

"You have kids, too?"

I held her gaze with my own for a moment, considering how much I should reveal. "A boy and a girl," I said. "Madison, then a couple of years later, Vinnie Jr."

Nina grinned broadly with a display of her perfectly white teeth. "Aw, a little boy to carry on your name."

I nodded somberly. "Yeah."

"Do you still see them?"

I sighed. "Every night when I close my eyes."

I stared at the TV, sipped my drink. I was peripherally aware of Nina looking to me. I could almost hear the unspoken question just behind her lips. Thankfully, however, she did not speak it.

Instead, she rolled forward on the couch and stood, setting her glass upon the little coffee table. She stepped around so that her lithe, dark-skinned form blocked my view of the television.

"Vincent."

I breathed in, feeling more than a little intimidated. "Yeah?"

She reached back to the trailing straps of her bikini top. Her dark, glowing eyes stabbed into mine. "I think I want to be a star."

I cradled my drink, but did not sip from it. A thick slug of something formed in the back of my throat, making me swallow thickly. "Right now?"

Nina nodded. "Yes. Right now."

First removed was the top, which fell to the ground with barely a flutter of cloth. Nina's breasts stood out firm and proud, glowing with a light sheen of sweat and arousal. Then she slipped her fingers beneath the straps of the bikini, and stooped over as she slid the garment down lean, athletic legs. Now fully nude -- she even stepped out of her sandals -- she straightened, arms dangling at her sides.

I would have been a consummate idiot if I did not allow myself the luxury of drinking in Nina's beautiful, exotic nudity. Ripe round breasts floated above a trim stomach, which sat upon hips that flared out nicely before flowing into strong, long legs. Her thighs were toned, not at all fleshy, and between them lay the most incredible, smooth-shaved edifice of ebony sexuality I could ever hope to see.

The sight of Nina in her delectable nudity was enough to make me lick my lips. More than that, but I felt a sincere and insistent stirring in my groin.

Giving me a look of abject lust, she pushed the coffee table out of the way and lowered herself to her hands and knees. Her eyes glowed like those of a feral cat's as she crawled toward me. "Put your drink down, Vincent," she whispered sultrily.

I numbly complied, setting the glass upon the small table beside the couch. I flinched as I felt Nina's hands gliding across the tops of my thighs. Her fingertips slipped beneath the edge of my shorts.

"Nina, I'm not sure--" I began.

"Shh," she responded, cutting me off. "If it happens, it happens."

I felt like I was suddenly a third my age, completely unsure of myself and woefully unprepared for anything that might happen next. At the same time, the unknowable future was tantalizing, and Nina certainly knew how to turn a man on.

"Lift up," she whispered. "So I can take these off."

I complied quickly, almost drunkenly, though I had not imbibed nearly enough alcohol to dull my senses. No, I was fully sober, yet at the same time utterly intoxicated.

My shorts slid down and vanished as Nina tore them from my feet and tossed them away. She was like an impish nymph, grinning from between my legs, the half-swollen tube of my erection laying between us. Her eyes remained on mine until my feet had settled to the floor.

"Oh, my," she whispered heatedly, lips spreading with an approving smile. "What have we here? Is this all for me?"

I could not respond. I was caught between two worlds, one dominated by guilt, the other by passion. The latter won out.

"What a beautiful cock," Nina murmured, just before she pressed her lips to the base of my shaft, sucking gently. I arched my back, gasping at the sensation. Sexual nerves which had long lain dormant were now suddenly brought back to life.

Eyes heavy and mouth slack, Nina lovingly licked up and down my stiffening penis, bathing it with the heat and wetness of her mouth. Tendrils of saliva stretched from my shaft to her tongue before she lapped them away. Finally, she lifted my erection and pointed it toward her mouth. Lush, thick pink lips parted wetly. She flickered her tongue out to tease the tip.

"I want to fuck you, Vincent," she said breathily.

I trembled with a heartfelt sigh. "I don't think I could stop you if I tried."

Nina grinned, then her features became almost feral, almost predatory as she sunk her mouth down my engorged cock. I gasped at the heat, the sucking, pulling, swallowing motions of her mouth and throat. She took me to the root with ease, pressing her chin to my balls, her nose against my abdomen.

Oh, God in Heaven, I thought in stupefaction.

But then she slipped her mouth from my cock, sucking up her own saliva. She gave me a wicked smile as she moved up and straddled me, one hand keeping my glistening wet penis pointed upward. Her face grew progressively slack as she rubbed the head along her fleshy dark lips, exposing the inner pink of her delectable sex. Her clitoris was thick, bulbous, peeking from beneath a fleshy dark hood.

"Push me down," she whispered hoarsely, heavy eyes staring at me.

It was the most erotic challenge I had ever been issued. If I complied, it signaled my desire for her, turning what would otherwise have been a one-sided erotic attack into a shared expression of sexual desire. If I did not . . . .

My thoughts never got that far. I slapped my hands to Nina's hips and pulled her down, while pushing up with my own. Regardless of the inner conflict raging in my heart and mind, at the moment I wanted nothing more than carnal satisfaction.

Nina sighed long and deep as my cock eased deep within her. Slick from her mouth, and with her pussy all but dripping, I had little trouble burying my penis to hilt inside her. Heat scorched through me as if I had never before felt such a thing, rekindling ancient memories which tortured me with thoughts of why did you wait so long?

For a long moment, Nina settled atop me, shifting back and forth a little, smiling with her eyes closed to savor the sensations trickling up from her sex. Her pussy pulsed and squeezed my dick like a hand adjusting its grip, looking for that perfect hold.

Hands braced upon my chest, Nina finally opened her eyes and gazed upon me with an expression that combined abject lust with abject grace. "I don't want to think about anything but what's happening right now," she stated heatedly. She leaned over, settling her body atop mine, and ran her hands down the sides of my face. "This is just us. Just what we want."

I stared into her dark brown eyes, finding a sense of loss, a sense of wanting, that mirrored my own. Nina, I realized, was just as tragic a soul as I was.

I nodded, touched her cheek. A smile drifted across my lips. "Just us," I mimicked, then kissed her, tenderly. She whimpered, body shuddering. My response had been what she had needed to hear.

We made the rounds that night. It would have been impossible to tell who was the more desperate between us. There were times when our coupling was as romantic and tender as anything penned in a romance novel, and times when we rutted and fucked like professional porn stars. We gave to each other all the energy, all the yearning, all the fierceness we could garner.

She leaned back with hands upon my knees, her legs lifted and splayed wide to afford me the incredible erotic contrast of her dark skin against my pale hue. She came with a series of shuddering cries and convulsive, jolting wracks of her body. Then I lifted up and took command, laying her upon one of the chairs. I held her lean legs wide apart and hammered deep, making her grunt, growl, and glare at me. She raked my skin with her nails, nearly bit my lip when we kissed.

I bent her over the coffee table and clutched her firm buttocks, spreading them apart to watch my slickened, pale-skinned cock plunging into her ebony-framed depths. I grabbed a handful of hair and jerked her head back, making her gasp and grunt as I pounded into her again and again and again and . . . .

And then, at last, came that incredible rush, the culmination of years of pent-up need and desire, that indescribable explosion of physical and emotional catharsis. It actually surprised me how fervently it tore through me, like a beast made to both destroy and remake me in the same moment. With each pulsing jet I spent inside Nina, I felt my strength ebb in the most delicious way possible, until I could do nothing more than collapse.

I found myself floundering on the carpet, numb, spent, incoherent. Nina giggled and cooed and curled up beside me, head upon my chest, and arm draped across my body as we recovered. She kissed my skin, hugged me close.

"Damn," she breathed at last. "Best. Sex. Ever."

I laughed ridiculously. "I can't even think."

She chuckled, warm body rubbing against mine. "Don't think. Just say you'll do it again."

* * * *

Hours later, as a sky unpolluted by man let me see the stars in all their glory, when the moon hovered above the horizon, I sat out upon the steps of the rear patio, sipping the cocktail I had set aside before.

I felt no guilt for my dalliance, as I had dreaded I would. Instead, there was a strange sort of acceptance, even approval. My departed wife, in her eternal wisdom, would understand that I, a mortal man, could not be expected to continue without certain simple physical satisfactions.

So I smiled, both from what I had enjoyed with Nina, and what I felt -- knew -- from my wife.

"There you are."

My smile remained as I responded to Nina behind me. I did not turn to look at her. "Here I am."