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Walking under the pedestrian tunnel at Boulevard d’Alsace, Tara tugged on our hands to stop us both. In the private darkness, her eyes were wide and expectant. With the war of the traffic over our heads, we surrendered to a few moments of pleasure, kissing each other like lovers. Even with no experience, we found the right balance between respect and passion, honesty and desire.
Happily, we made our way back to the hotel and found our parents waiting for us.
Annoyed but not furious, they merely separated us, simply expecting that we would go along with their schedules. It never occurred to them we wanted to do something different. It never occurred to us to demand more. After all, we were only thirteen.
But what I felt then, I never felt again. Not until now. A feeling that something was just inexplicably correct. A rightness. And I felt…
Happy.
I almost want to laugh out loud, thinking about it now. That’s what this is? Happiness? Is it her? Or is it finally reaching out and finding my brother again?
Does it matter?
The sun climbs in the sky, and I quickly realize that today is going to be quite hot. If I run all the way around the island, it will be past lunch by the time I get back. Even though I would very much like to spend this time by myself, there is still work to be done.
When I reach the pass, I cut across the path that bisects the island, taking me back toward the resort. With every step, I realize that I am nearing Opal and Irving again.
And that is a good reason to smile also.
To my surprise, I find Opal on the beach, holding her hair back with her hands, staring down the long strand of white sands. When she turns toward me, she raises a quick hand in greeting, squinting and smiling against the sun.
“I didn’t expect to find you here,” I remark when I near her.
It’s hard not to smile at her too broadly. I did just have her quivering in my hands a couple of hours ago. I don’t want to seem like I’m gloating.
But she is smiling at me too. She looks me over with unabashed interest.
“You’re a runner,” she remarks.
“I can hold my breath for three minutes, too,” I add.
She raises an eyebrow at me. Although I was joking, now I see there is an opportunity here.
“Would you like to see?” I ask carefully.
Grinning, she follows me back to the same outcropping of rock we explored yesterday. By daylight, it is almost unrecognizable.
“Oh, I don’t think I can swim today. I’m not wearing…”
“You won’t be swimming,” I reassure her with a smile. “Trust me?”
She seems to consider it for a moment, then grins and shrugs. “I do,” she confirms. “I really do.”
“Take off your shoes.” I smile. “Actually, let me.”
I lead her to a smooth, white rock and she sits obediently as I kneel before her, gently removing her ballet flats. I set them aside and then push her simple, teal green skirt over her knees. The sunlight catches the tiny, golden, downy hairs on her upper thighs as I expose them, inch by inch. She shudders with delight.
She resists only for a moment, but when I push her knees apart she allows me to spread her legs, revealing the pink, cotton triangle of her panties. So simple, so authentic. Not handmade Irish lace or spider floss or whatever kind of strange material the women I know wear as undergarments. Opal has no pretense at all. These are pink cotton panties, the sort that slide easily over her thighs.
I open her legs further, taking time to memorize the closed bud of her sex. Her pubic hair is trimmed but not shaven. It barely covers a plump, healthy pussy, one so demure and sweet that it makes my mouth water.
I have to get her into the water. My cock is so hard already, I am afraid I’m going to come on her feet. Abruptly I stand, pushing her skirt down to her ankles and sliding the sleeveless top over her head. She gasps and bites her lips together, holding back a whimper of surprise.
“It’s warm, I promise,” I reassure her as I draw her to the water, seeking the flat stones that lead to the secret pool I have in mind.
We wade through knee-high, warm water with barely any ripples and circle a column of stone when the floor suddenly gives way. It’s only about four feet deep now, a turquoise-green pool completely enclosed by stone columns. The water is bath-warm and still, with a natural seat on one side. I enter first, pulling her behind me. When she steps into the pool, I find her hips under the water and maneuver her floating form to the stone seat.
“Cal, I was just kidding about holding your breath.”
