We were camped at some beach location in West Wales, perhaps near St David’s, and it was early and I was awake. Wide awake. And so I made my way, alone, down to the ocean. The sun was already bleaching the driftwood and the tide was in, causing delightful waves to crash, one after the other and forever, onto the sand just a few feet from where grass became beach.
I stripped and ran into the ocean, cold, but not so that I was uncomfortable. The salt and the rough and tumble and the extremities beginning to loose colour were invigorating. I was now not wide but ultra awake!
I jumped over waves and swam out beyond the turbulence to calmer waters, dove under and imagined myself a great fish, a merman, a whale. The swell brought me back to shore and I body surfed into the soft intertidal zone. And I lay there, naked, alone, a creature born from the ocean and about to make it’s mark on the land.
It was time to dress so I stepped up and I noticed a girl watching me. She was a few metres away. I did not know how long either I or she had been there. And then as I was towelling off she stripped and she splashed her way into the water. Not for long, she was not made of such hardy material as my mountain mans body. I watched her as she yelped and timidly leaped and finally swam a little and then she was out.
Perhaps just about twenty years old, she was confident, striding to her towel and drying off. She took time to dry herself and I noted that occasionally she caught my eye. And she turned and twisted and bent over. She was displaying herself.
As she caressed her body with her towel I fumbled and took glances, some lingering, drinking her in as she was turned away from me, a little furtive when her eyes met mine. And then, as if by design, our clothes were on and we were walking together, away from the ocean and back to the campsite, chatting about our holiday, where we had been and what we intended to do with the rest of the week.
I can’t remember her name. I can’t remember her face. But her body. I do remember her…