Motion was caught in the corner of his eye and directed
his gaze quickly. The image filled in as she slowly revealed herself above
the hatch, coming up from the hold. Her hair was pulled back, doubled into
a messy ponytail. As he gained sight of her shoulders he could see she was
wearing her white two-piece, covered by a sheer top. Her back was directly
to him and, like so many times before, he marveled at the perfect curves
of her. Her long, brown hair now bunched up, the ends of it fanning out
lazily in the breeze. The gentle way her neck met with her shoulders, creating
the sensitive spot where she loved to be devoured. The way her sides dipped
gracefully to a petite waist. The inset curve of the muscles down her backbone,
the place that invited his gliding fingers. Her incredibly graceful arms,
delicate wrists and elegant fingers. Every part of her was so utterly feminine
to him, so much the epitome of what he considered a woman to be. She stepped
up to the deck and turned, stopping with her side to him as she looked out
over the water. He could now see her completely.
She had become very tan during their time on the boat, which changed her look dramatically. That was simply another aspect of her perfection in his mind. No matter how she looked, how she dressed, what time of day or night, how made-up or plain, she was never any more, never any less. She was always exactly what he wanted, needed, desired. Anything more simply wasn't possible.
He drank in the long, subtle curves of her legs, slowly following them to her smooth, flat stomach. Her stomach had always destroyed him. He remembered the first time he drifted his fingertips across it, so firm that it caught him by surprise. Even more unexpected was his reaction, almost obsessive, imparting in him the immediate desire to drag his mouth across it, his lips over her navel, feel the hard muscles beneath the flesh with his tongue. He smiled, thinking the only thing that spared her from being ravaged in that moment was that it happened in the midst of a corporate party.
She turned, raised a hand to shade her eyes and saw him sitting at the opposite end of the boat. She brought her other had up to her lips, pressed it against them then delivered the kiss to him through the wind. He smiled, held out a hand, caught the kiss and pressed it to his own mouth. She smiled, turned, and knelt down, reaching into a storage bay to retrieve an apple and knife.
He continued to watch her, slightly mesmerized by her grace, the delicacy of her movements and how every vision of her impacted his senses like art. As she carved the apple into edible pieces his mind shifted lightly, like a feather caught in a draft. He slipped into daydream, watching her now, watching her then, the night of the party.