P Deutermann - Darkside

“You can look at me now,” she said in a husky voice, and he did, fully aware of the heat rising from her body, her arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him down, and the press of her lips on his. And then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight, his longing driving the breath right out of her. He pulled her down onto the cushioned bench seat, where they kissed as their bodies melted together. He almost came when she thrust her belly up against his and held herself there, the wanting palpable. Then she stopped, her eyes huge, and stood up. She unbuttoned her shorts and beckoned for him to come to her. He leaned forward in front of her, holding her hips while he consumed her from top to bottom, until she pulled his bathing suit off, rolled on top of him, and rode him like a bronc rider for what he later felt was far too short a time. Then after a few minutes and without a spoken word, they went below into the air conditioning of the master stateroom and tried it all out again, slower this time, concentrating on making sure nobody got left out.

Afterward, he lay on his back beside her, deliciously spent, staring at the polished ceiling in quiet contentment. He realized that she had ambushed him, and he had been so ready that it had taken all his effort not go off in the first minute like some randy teenager. She lay quietly next to him, her face on his chest. He rolled over, to find her watching him.

“I had no idea,” he said.

“I know,” she replied. “But I did.”

“And thank God for that,” he said, surprised at how grateful he felt.

She chuckled and rolled over onto her stomach as he sat up on one elbow and began to stroke her back. She was a study in feminine roundness, with smooth skin and yet muscles from top to bottom. He leaned over and kissed the hollow below her collarbone. Her skin tasted of salt.

The boat was rolling steadily now as the sea breeze picked up and the wave action increased. They decided to get up, check the anchor, and have lunch. An hour later, they got under way and headed back toward Annapolis. The wind had backed to the north, and the big Cats were driving the boat into the chop with a thumping authority. She kept it at a speed that covered ground but didn’t make the ride too rough. She offered to let him drive, but he demurred, preferring to watch her work, even though the red halter top was back in place. The wind was whistling hard enough to make further conversation difficult, and he saw that there were several other boats apparently intent on getting back in before things got hairy out on the bay, which was notorious for changing the odds in a hurry.

As they drew abreast of the South River, they came under a partial lee from Sandy Point to the north, and the waves diminished a bit. The visibility was unlimited, and the sky was a ferocious blue, darkening somewhat as the day sloped into late afternoon. Ev felt more alive than he had in years. More years, he realized, than Joanne had been gone. He felt a wave of guilt at that disloyal thought, but there was no getting around it. This woman excited him, surprised him, challenged him in a way that Joanne never had. He wondered if that was simply the toll of many years of marriage talking, or if he and Liz were better suited than he and Joanne had been. That’s unfair, a voice whispered. He wondered what Julie would have thought of his Sunday afternoon.

Julie.

That problem hadn’t gone away. They hadn’t even discussed it, either. He wanted to seek reassurance from Liz that it would go away, but he was unwilling to break the spell. Liz signaled to him to look at something with the binoculars while she slowed the big boat and brought her up directly into the wind.

“Over there-starboard bow. Is that a boat capsized? I thought I saw a sail in the water.” She had to raise her voice to make herself heard over the whipping wind. The yacht was starting to wallow a bit as the power decreased and her bow began to bump into the seaway. He had to wedge himself to hold the binocs steady.

He searched but saw nothing. After looking at Liz again to see where she was pointing, he refocused and saw a blur of white in the water. Then he noticed a flash of metal as what looked like a mast surfaced briefly and then went back under.

“Yes. There’s a boat over. Sailboat. Can’t see people.” Then he could, or rather, he glimpsed a single white arm waving once before disappearing into the whitecaps. “Whoa, there are people out there. I just saw an arm.”

“Okay,” she shouted. “I’m going to head over there. You get that life ring, snap it to that coil of line right there, and get up on the bow. Get into a life jacket first-they’re in that locker by the companionway. When you get up on the bow, sit down, wedge your legs, and hold on to the lifeline until I get her alongside.”

He saw several other boats passing behind them, all oblivious to the capsized boat ahead. As Liz drew closer, she got on the radio and called the Coast Guard station to report a capsized boat and their radar position.

He got into a life jacket, grabbed the ring and the coil of white nylon line, and went forward. He was immediately soaked by a wave that slapped salt spray all over the bow. The boat was pitching more dramatically now as she crept forward. After what seemed like a long time, they got close enough to see the boat, or its bottom anyway. Something, probably internal floatation gear, was keeping it from sinking. He could not see the people, even when they were only fifty feet away. His perch was pitching rhythmically now, dousing him with spray and even the occasional greenie. He was glad for the life jacket, although it seemed positively flimsy compared to the Navy’s kapok jackets. He saw an arm again, and then a head. A woman’s head, from the looks of it. He turned to see if Liz had seen the woman, and she nodded vigorously, adding power to the engines to get closer while still keeping the bow into the wind and sea.

Ev got on his knees, wedging himself between the pilothouse and a lifeline stanchion. There was a constant thrash of water coming over the deck, and the wind was going to make it very hard to throw a lifeline anywhere. Liz brought the big yacht within ten feet of the capsized boat, then surprised Ev by sounding the horn in one long blast. Then he saw why: The woman in the water hadn’t actually seen the Not Guilty. Now she looked up and shouted something, but her words were whipped away in the wind. She appeared to be holding on to the overturned hull with one hand while supporting something else with the other. Another person? Was that a child? She was as white-faced as the waves and visibly exhausted.

Liz eased the yacht to a position ten feet beyond and upwind of the overturned boat, then held her there with powerful thrusts of the engines as the wind buffeted the Not Guilty. Ev rose up on his knees, skinning them on the nonskid surface of the deck, and heaved the life ring upwind of the capsized boat. The ring hurtled past it and then fell into the water, dragging the line right over the woman’s head.

Shit, he thought, she never even saw it. She must be about done. As he reeled the line in, he turned to the pilothouse and signaled that he was going to go into the water to get her. Liz shook her head violently, motioned for him to wait, then disappeared. She popped back into view a moment later, just in time to gun the port engine to reposition the yacht. Then she opened a window and slid two life jackets down to him.

He grabbed the jackets before the next wave could snatch them off the bow. He understood now that he had to get the life jackets on the two people, then try to bring them back to the yacht. He’d been about to make a big mistake, just swimming over there. He snapped the two extra jackets onto his left arm, slid the life ring around his right shoulder, made sure his line was clear and secured to a cleat on the bow, and then slipped over the side. The bow immediately rose up on a big wave and very nearly knocked him senseless when it came back down, barely pushing him away in a rush of water. He could no longer see the capsized boat, but he remembered where it had been relative to the yacht. He struck out in that direction, doing the sidestroke so he could keep an eye on the yacht to maintain direction. The water seemed colder out here, but he hardly noticed as his adrenaline kicked in.