Wednesday, 13 July 2011

The beach

The wave was vast, a wall of water and, for a moment, I panicked.  I couldn’t see ‘my’ surfer.  How ridiculous was that?  My surfer.  But no, there he was and – Oh My God – could he surf?  These weren’t the gargantuan waves of Hawaii or California but they weren’t tiddlers either and he rode this one like a pro, swooping low, slicing through, not a foot wrong. 
As he neared the beach my heart did a double flip.  That tall, sinewy body, albeit clad in a full body suit, was oh so familiar. So too the long blonde hair, wet tendrils down his neck. 
I stepped back, my hand flying to my mouth.  As he jumped easily off the  board and stalked through the water towards me, I could only say one word.
My heart gave such a lurch I thought it would jump clean out of me.  I knew I should be wary; I knew I should confront him about the stuff in the chest – but my body was telling me a whole different story. 
A smile simmered round those slim cool lips.  I felt my body tug towards him, as if we were magnets inexorably attracted, unable to resist.  He scooted the board onto the sand and shook out his hair, like a dog.
‘Hey, I’ll get wet.’
‘So?’  He grabbed my hands and pulled me towards him.  I felt my body slam into his rock hard chest, my thighs rubbed against wet neoprene.  He let himself fall backwards into the water, pulling me with him, twining his hands into my hair. I tried to pull away, tried to remember my doubts, but it was impossible.
Then his lips were on mine and my senses fell into overload.  Every cell of my body tingled at his touch.
‘It’s not fair,’ I gasped, freeing my mouth for a moment.  ‘I’m virtually naked and you’re all covered up in a wetsuit.’
'That can easily be remedied,’ he said, kneeling up and reaching behind his shoulder to tug down the zip.
‘Oh.’ I felt myself flare red. ‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘I know you didn’t,’ he said with a grin, shrugging his arms out of the suit and pulling it down, revealing a broad chest and the start of a serious six-pack.  A silver chain hung round his neck, with what looked like a magical symbol dangling from it.  He pulled me up and stared down at me, his head slanted to one side.

‘I’m sorry I left you. There were things I had to do.’
‘Like what?’  There was probably a simple explanation, right?
‘Just things.’  He shrugged and stroked a tendril of hair from my face.

From Samael, Chapter Twenty

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