The Old Man and the Sea

I would sometimes even talk to her, just like she was standing next to me.

I am sure that the tall, unmarried Professor with the odd habit of mumbling to himself caused the occasional rumor about my sanity. But I didn't care. She was always with me, and I felt what I felt.

Then one day, after twenty-four long years I felt differently.

_________________________________

Humpty Dumpty

In my forty-ninth year I had transitioned from a young muscular slim, to a middle aged still-in- very-good-shape slim.

I had grown my hair out as soon as I finished competing. And it was kind of unkempt and shaggy.

It was ironic that I had gone from being totally bald as a young man to a thick head of dirty blond hair in my middle age.

I still swam at the University pool. But it was nothing like I did when I was a kid. I was simply trying to stay in shape.

One day I was stroking along in a relaxed backstroke, just to cool down after my workout, when a woman appeared on the pool-deck.

She was obviously planning to swim down the lane next to me. I only had a momentary glance as she set her swim goggles and dove in but she was stunning.

Kari was a little woman at five-two. This one was closer to five-ten. Kari had the silky white skin of the redhead. This woman was dusky and Italian looking.

But the main difference was in the size of her tits.

Kari had normal size, beautifully shaped breasts. This woman's chest would stop traffic. She was straight up and down, the word "lean" comes to mind. But her boobs were massive.

I just assumed that she had extensive work done to get mountains as astonishing as the two objects that were underneath her TYR competition swim suit. There was no sag whatsoever.

She proceeded to glide past me with a beautiful relaxed stroke. I was more impressed by her swimming than her tits. Which should give you some idea of what a good swimmer she was.

I had finished my workout. So I climbed out of the pool. But I had to pause a minute and watch her.

She was as sleek as a seal, long legs and waist and her powerful stroke indicated that she was probably another former college swimmer, with all of the physical benefits that imparted.

I found myself hoping to see her again.

That was an astonishing reaction.I had no interest in women for the decade after Kari was taken from me.

Once you have experienced a woman like Kari the others pale by comparison. It would be like going from steak to oatmeal.

In the subsequent ten years I tried to get back to a normal life. It was an absolute waste of time. I had my one shot at the brass ring and fate had chosen to snatch it out of my hand.

There was simply no going back.

Nevertheless, this new woman piqued my interest. It was her freestyle stroke that drew me in more than her incredible body. But I felt some stirring in my soul on that common ground.

However, notwithstanding the fact that I did my workouts at the same time, I did not see her again.

I finally ran into her several weeks later at the most unlikely of places.

I was attending one of those interminable faculty parties. I was there by command performance, personally requested by the Dean. Otherwise I would have been anywhere else.

I was standing against my usual wall and holding the ubiquitous glass of sherry. They always serve sherry at events like that. I guess they figure that you won't get too drunk at the rate of two ounces per drink.

I was gazing vacantly at the room wishing I could be any place but where I was. When the Dean appeared in front of me.

He looks like a hamster and is about as smart as one. But he is a true savant at faculty politics and political ass-kissing. So you had to take him seriously.

He had a woman in tow.

He said, "Danny, I want you to meet Janet Lucca, she was just hired in your Department and since you are an old hand I want you to show her around - maybe mentor her a bit."

I shifted my gaze and it was the mystery woman from the pool.

The Gods spend a lot of time laughing their asses off at me.

She was taller than the Hamster with thick dark auburn hair cut into a preppy bob. She was also wearing the full preppy regalia, cashmere cardigan sweater over the obligatory white button-down oxford shirt, grey pencil skirt and 3 inch heels.

She looked like she had just stepped out of the J.Crew catalogue. And she was stunning.

She was clearly working as hard as she could to understate that body. But that would be an impossibility. Her chest was just too big.

The impressive string of black pearls around her long neck was pointing in my general direction rather than toward her feet as they should.

I said, "Sure boss." And the Hamster wandered off, his duty done.

I turned to her and I stuck out my hand. Trying to keep my voice neutral I said, "Danny Jones at your service."

She looked amused and said, "I saw you at the pool so you don't need to act like you don't know me."

I grinned and said, "That was an impressive stroke, did you do that in college?"

She said, "I swam four years at Berkeley."

Well-well-well a fellow traveler. I said, "I did the same thing in Ann Arbor. But it was probably ten, or fifteen years before your time."

She said, "I was an undergrad twelve years ago."

So - it was more like fifteen.

We then launched into an hour long series of war stories. Which led to an evening at the Willow restaurant down Fairfax from the campus.

By the time the evening was over I knew that she had an exceptional sense of humor and that she was an expert in the policy end of tradecraft. She also had a degree from the Ridge School, which is in Erie Pennsylvania.

It's a top school in the field but seriously, Erie??!!

I also knew that she was gorgeous.

When I tore my gaze away from her bouncers I was looking at a perfect oval face and very dark, almost black eyes. Those eyes held the same kind of intelligence that my Kari had. Her mouth was lasciviously sensual.

She was like the hottest preppie ever born.

For the first time in 24 years I sensed an attraction.

She was a new-hire and had only been in town for three weeks. She was still living in a long-stay hotel while she looked for a place. That search was complicated by the fact that she had no idea where anything was.

The next day was a Saturday and I made arrangements to meet her for breakfast at the IHOP down from the Ballston stop on the Metro.

I chose that place because it was easy for her to get to from Clarendon. But coincidentally it is also a regular clandestine meeting place for the big-shots at the alphabet agencies in the area.

She was dressed in preppy casual today, archetypal chinos and one of those distinctive cardigans with the blue, red and yellow diamond pattern over a light blue turtle-neck, topsiders on her feet. Light gold chain around her neck.

She was striking in a Xena-Warrior-Princess-goes-to-Wellesley kind of way.

She had gone all-out with the makeup and I had to upgrade the face from gorgeous to unearthly. That was mainly because of her eyes. Those eyes were huge, dark and hypnotically seductive.

I had managed to actually find a spot in their parking lot. So after a little coffee and chit-chat we set off to find her a place.

I told her that the smartest thing she could do would be to find an apartment near a Metro stop. So we cruised the Orange Line for most of the afternoon.

And she finally settled on a neat little place in West Falls.

When we finished the apartment shopping I took her back to her hotel in the Clarendon area.

She seemed hesitant and moody as we drove back. So I asked her what the problem was.

She said, "Now that you've done your duty will I see you again?"

I said, "It is a real pleasure, not a duty. And we will see each other around campus a lot. My office is not far from yours in the same building."

She said, "That's not what I meant. Will we see each other socially?"

I said, "I have not had a date since my wife died. You were probably in high school then."

She looked aghast and said with horror in her voice. "Your wife died? How did that happen?"

I was trying to keep the pain out of my voice as I said, "She was hit by a drunk driver while jogging. We had only been married three years.

"Her untimely death cut my heart out and stomped on it. I have not even looked at a woman since that day twenty-four years ago,"

Then I hesitated and tentatively added, "Until now."

She looked aghast and said, "What do you mean by that?"

Okay - I had totally screwed-the-pooch! I hastily walked THAT statement back before she thought that I was some kind of psycho stalker.

I said, "What I mean is that I find you attractive. And for the first time in forever I have a desire to get to know a woman better. I don't know what it is about you, all of the common ground I suppose, but I want to explore our relationship further if you are willing."

She did that thing that only women do where they kind-of melt. She took my one hand in her two and said with sincerity, "I would like that very much."

Compound interest being what it is, the blood money from Kari's death had grown into a big bag of cash over the past 24 years. I would never spend the settlement. That was Kari's money. But the interest was a grey area and it was substantial.

So I got myself something to sail.

It was a pure survival mechanism. Being on the water was the only way I could wrestle with the crushing feelings of ennui and cosmic resentment that continually swept over me.

I thought that Kari would approve. I had to survive to keep her memory alive.

Janet and I still had a lot of talking to do before any decisions were reached. A day on the boat seemed like neutral way to kick that off. So I invited her to go sailing with me the following weekend.

I had run into her several times during the succeeding week. She had been completely professional in her dealings with me.

She was a smart girl. She had been around academia long enough to know that faculty types have the same approximate maturity level of junior-high-schoolers.

Especially, when it comes to chit-chatting about matters of the heart.

I was a senior guy and she was brand new and an assigned mentoree. We both could foresee all kinds of career ending gossip falling out of that situation.

She was still making the arrangements to move into her apartment. So I picked her up at her place in Clarendon. She was dressed for the boat in a demure pair of white boat shorts, Topsiders and a dark blue polo shirt with a little alligator on it.

This was the first time since the initial time at the pool that her body was truly discernable. It was spectacular.

You don't compete at the collegiate level without having handsome muscular legs. But the round ass and lithe hips in those shorts were also a work of art.

Given the challenge that the exceptional size of her boobs posed to casual attire. The Izod polo shirt was perhaps the classiest compromise possible.

She was wearing the shirt tails-out. So it kind of hung down off her front. Which left you with the impression that she was smuggling watermelons underneath. But at the same time she looked athletic and utterly asexual. Or at least as asexual as somebody built like her could look.

I kept the boat at the James Creek Marina back behind Fort McNair. The 7 mile drive took the usual forty-five minutes in DC traffic.

All the way to the marina we talked about her first week. She was amazingly insightful in her appraisals of her peers. And it was clear that she had a first-class mind, particularly in her ability to maneuver through the swamp of faculty politics.

We got to the boat and she just stood there gaping.

I don't know what kind of vessel she THOUGHT I was talking about when I invited her out. But it was clear that she didn't expect what she was seeing. Maybe she thought I was talking about a Sunfish.

I had to admit that the C&C 40 is an impressive boat. It's a masthead sloop with the fifty foot mainmast anchored slightly forward of center. From where we were standing it seemed to go up to the sky.

Compared to the true racing sloops, the boat itself is sturdy, almost a little tubby, Its broad beam makes it an excellent cruiser.

Janet stepped on board still gazing around like she had never been on a boat before. She said, "Is this yours?"

I said, "It's over thirty years old but she's still a very well-preserved old girl."

We stowed our gear and the groceries. Then I cast off and took us out into the Anacostia River and shortly thereafter into the Potomac.

We were under motor at that point because there is just too much traffic on the river to reliably go under sail, at least until you get around Hallowing Point and into the wider part.

She sat next to me glorying in the sun and the hustle and bustle. I pointed out the landmarks as we cruised by from Alexandria, to National Harbor, to Mt. Vernon.

I wasn't going too far but I wanted to raise the sail to give her the experience.

I set the autosailor when we got around the Point and told her to hold onto the halyard line while I took the cover off the mainsail.

She was tugging on the halyard like she thought she had to raise the sail by hand. And she almost seemed strong enough to do that.

I went back to stand behind her and reached around her to loop the line over the top slot in the winch and she leaned back into me. It was an exquisite sensation. One that I had not experienced in two decades.

The power winch pulled the mainsail up the mast. She was clapping her hands with glee.

Then as I was attaching the line to the cleat the wind shifted off the nose, the sail cracked and filled and we lay over on a beautiful port tack.

I rushed back to take over the helm and told her to coil the line at the cleat. As she bent over to do that I could see the most perfect apple shaped ass ever fitted on a woman.

She came rushing back to where I was sitting with her eyes positively glowing.

She said, "That was the most exhilarating thing I have ever done."

I said, "Yeah - sailing a big boat does that for you."

We cruised for a while, tacking back and forth, just to give her a sense of it.

Once I was sure we were away from any ship traffic I let her handle the helm. I told her to just steer by feel, the ship, the wind and the helmsman are one and the same organism. She looked positively ecstatic.

I finally maneuvered us to where I wanted to anchor, which was Belmont Bay on the Virginia side. It is surrounded by Mason Neck State Park.

Even though there is a marina on the southeast side and a bunch of yahoos in powerboats and jet skis, the bay is big enough that our anchorage on the far side was both private and also semi-secluded.

I dropped anchor fore and aft and she looked at me in anticipation.

Why do women always do that? It was like she expected me to make a romantic move, which was a long way from happening.

I felt closer to this woman than I had to any female in two decades. But Kari was the only person I had ever been intimate with. And that intimacy was still very precious to me.

I said, "Let's sit here and talk. I have told you about my life, or at least what there has been of it since my wife died. Tell me about yourself. Have you been married before?"

Her face darkened. She almost looked panicked.

I said gently, "You don't have to tell me anything about yourself if you don't want to. I was just hoping to get to know you better. I'm interested. That's all."

She looked like there was a wrestling match going on inside her head.

Finally she said, "I started developing very early and these were the result." She gestured disparagingly at her tits.

She continued, "I was thrilled at first because every boy I knew wanted me, even the older ones. Then I figured out that was all that they EVER wanted.

"None of them appreciated the fact that I was smarter than most people and also a better athlete. All they ever wanted was to get their hands on these." And this time she actually cupped them.

She added, "I managed to hold them ALL off until I was in my first year at Cal.

"That's where I met Prince Charming.

"James was everything I had ever wanted in a man, suave, good looking. He seemed to care about me. And he had literally inherited gold, silver and uranium mines from his dad. So he was also fabulously wealthy and powerful. I was only nineteen at the time.

"He was eight years older than me. We met at a club in San Francisco and James thought I was his age because of the way I looked.

"We lived together throughout college and in my senior year he asked me to marry him.

Getting married was something that all of the girls in my social set were doing and it just seemed like the right thing to do.

"I wish I had spent a little time thinking about that, rather than just jumping into things. But I was still only a girl and James was very convincing.

"The problem was that the minute we were married I became one of his possessions and he morphed into a psycho control freak.

"He had done a good job of keeping that little obsession hidden from me during the courtship. But once we were married he started to lay down the law, sometimes in pretty physical terms.

"So I was literally the princess in the tower.

"Living with him was my worst nightmare. He didn't want me doing anything but being at his beck and call.

"My life was dictated to me. I was not allowed to have meaningful conversations with men. And God help me if I flirted or danced with one.

"In fact he also got jealous of my women friends. So I had to jettison them too.

"He had a lot of money and so I dedicated myself to spending it for him. It was my way of getting revenge for the way he treated me.

"I bought everything a girl could imagine from expensive coteur to cars.

"And the more I spent the deader inside I got .

"He was willing to pay as long as I never expressed an opinion, or did anything that involved free-will. And he expected me to perform any sexual trick he could think of on demand.

"The word "prostitute" comes to mind.

"Sex was often disgusting and degrading. But I didn't have a choice. He totally owned me. It was a living hell.

"I was allowed to continue swimming because it kept me in the shape required to boost his raging ego. But it was only in our pool in our place in the Santa Monica Mountains.

"I couldn't divorced him. He had his hands around my throat, sometimes literally.

"And his 'body guards' constantly kept an eye on me. I was essentially under house arrest for all seven years we were married.

"Then - fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, he found a new bimbo.

"She was as well-endowed as I am and only 20 years old. And apparently she even liked the kinky things that he inflicting on her.

"The problem was that we had an iron clad pre-nup.

"Adultery was the main feature. So he made plans to trade in the old slut for a new one by setting me up.

"One of the guys who was keeping an eye on me started helping me to get away for a few hours.

"It was just walks on the beach and coffee at Bobby's. But it was freedom.

"He seemed to be kind and sympathetic. I actually began to trust him. In fact I started to crush on him.

"I know how naïve that sounds. But I had been sheltered my entire life. And I was afraid that my husband was going to kill me. It was the Stockholm syndrome.

"One night my friend was the only guy watching me. He came into our home theater with drinks and some popcorn and offered to watch Steel Magnolias.

"That alone should have told me it was a trap. No guy is capable of sitting through that movie, no matter how devoted.