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Show 104, Jeffries, Islamorada [Section 2] come and sit on your lap, trying to wheedle a higher grade. . .' He stood alone with her under the cottonwoods. "Peel off," she challenged. "Marjoram--" "Skinny dip?" she laughed. The naked, perfect girl. His sudden shortness of breath. And middle age, what was it, thirty-eight to fifty-five, still eight years away- "Uh, run along young missy," he managed. She piled her hair high, and took a pose. "Let's race." "Yeah, fine," he said. "Get, uh, get in the water." After four tight laps in the musty water he let her show a length lead. "You see, slowpoke?" she pouted, challenging him off her flip turn, "it's your resistance." "Huh?" "Fish don't wear pants." "Oh all right." He churned white bubbles in the old eaves-water from the cistern. He lapped her and won by three. He faced her across the short pool. The Minoan femininity of a small steel comb in her hair giving the lie to her slim boyish chest. "Okay, Mark Spitz, give me a horsey-ride." |