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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
White Beach Diving Adventures was located a way down the coast from our hotel. We drove down the winding road in a limo my father hired, which deposited us at the small diving business on the ocean, that housed a wharf and boat launch, a small wooden shack with equipment and a room for instruction, changing rooms for suiting up.
We took the hour-long instructional course designed for tourists, Drake sitting beside me, his arm on the back of my chair, his legs spread. We went over safety techniques, how to wear the gear, the itinerary for our short dive, and then it was time to suit up. A group had already gone out in a boat before us, and so we were going as our own small group, just Drake and me, my father and Elaine and our instructors. My father had grown a bit portly and they had a bit of trouble finding the right suit to fit his belly. Elaine was tall and slim and fit nicely into a woman's suit. Drake was well-built and looked very delicious in his wetsuit. It was me who was the real problem.
Of course, I already made one mistake, wearing my bra and underwear instead of a bathing suit. I hadn’t thought to bring a one-piece and all I had was the white string bikini. I didn’t think it was appropriate to wear it so I wore my skin-colored lace bra and panties, not thinking that they would get wet and still be wet after the dive was done. My instructor smiled and said I wasn’t the first person to wear underwear. Some people didn’t wear anything. He'd seen it all.
I was petite and small boned, the smallest woman's size left was too big in the body and too small in the bust.
The instructor held up yet another wetsuit for me to try.
"This is all we have left. It's old."
It had a front zip and fraying fabric. It was the only suit left that had any chance of fitting but it was worn, the zipper a bit rusty.
"Maybe I should just stay behind."
"Nonsense," my father said. "Suit up and let's go."
I went behind the curtain and tried once more, hoping this suit fit me well enough. It was a the best so far, but when I tried to zip it up, the rusty zipper stuck about half way up at my waist.
I struggled with the zipper with no luck.
"Um, I need a bit of help with this zipper…"
Elaine was getting dressed herself so Drake came in the change room where I was struggling with the zipper.
"It's a bit rusted," I said, trying to hold the two sides of the zipper as close together as I could so that the zipper was less stretched. Of course, the suit was still too tight in the bust and my breasts were squeezed together. Drake leered at my chest and smiled while he took hold of the zip loop and pulled, but it didn’t budge. He jiggled the zipper up and down, but it was completely stuck.
"That’s what you get for having such luscious breasts," Drake whispered as he gave one strong jerk on the zipper latch. "Squeeze them a bit more, pull the two sides closer."
I did, feeling like some exotic dancer putting my breasts on display.
"Christ, you're going to give me a boner, Kate."
"You better not get one," I said. I glanced down and was shocked at how big he looked already, the wetsuit thin and showing his ample length. "You look like you already do."
He glanced down. "No, I'm soft. I'm just a shower, not a grower."
"A what?"
"A shower. I show my length all the time, and only thicken up and harden when I get an erection. Most men are growers. They're smaller when soft and grow in length when they have an erection."
"Oh," I said, amused at his clinical description of the categories of men's dicks. "So what I see is what I get?"
"More or less," he said. "In terms of length, at least." Then he leered at me, his eyes hooded. "As you learned from Big, length isn’t as important as girth when it comes to a woman's pleasure…"
"Drake!"
He just grinned and gave one huge tug and voila – the zipper went up.
"There," he said, smiling at me. "Confined." He eyed me up and down. "I might be convinced to put you in some latex at some point. A nice black latex cat suit would be really delicious…"
I adjusted the suit a bit, and it was too tight but better than all the others.
"We have to get going," the instructor said through the door. "Those suits are thin but if you wear them for any length of time in this warmth, you'll overheat. Most accidents in triathlons are due to people overheating while waiting for their wave of swimmers to leave the shore."
We emerged and made our way to the boats, where an assistant instructor was loading up our gear. Since he was already certified, Drake took over as my buddy, helping me with my equipment and swimming with me on the outing.
