I awoke that morning to Sabrina gently shaking me. When I looked up, I could barely make out her silhouette. It was still dark, almost pitch, but fishing was done early for breakfast, and we were on duty. I stretched, then got up and we heading down the beach, stepping carefully over our still sleeping companions. We reached the raft a few moments later, untied it from the rocks jutting from the water that served as our dock and started out to sea, making sure the security line was well fastened to keep us from floating away. It would allow us at least one hundred feet, but would keep the ocean's strong currents from pulling us further out.
Sabrina was fairly quiet, and this early, with the two of us tired, neither of us said anything until we reached the security line's full length. Then, she turned to me in the dark and asked, "Do you want to go first or should I?"
"I'll go," I said, thinking that the water would be cold and that she'd prefer to wait.
I took the first net and ensured its attachment to the side of the raft. The small craft was made of fallen trees and bamboo, and held together by some vines that we'd found near the mountain's peak. The light frame of it shifted easily under my weight, making it seem as though it would fall over when I stood. The net was well fastened. Contented with that, I took my shirt off, not wanting my clothes to get wet, then dropped my shorts and jumped over the side wearing only my boxer-briefs.
I'd been right. The water felt almost like ice as my body broke its surface. I quickly swam until the net resisted, letting me know I was at the net's full extension, then, I dropped it, making sure that the end with the stone attached was aimed at the bottom and the end with the wooden bobbin Joan had made was toward the surface, that the net wasn't twisted.
That done, I swam to the surface for air and waited to make sure the bobbin floated to the surface. Once it did, I swam back to the raft and climbed out, shivering.
Now, the sun was nearing the horizon, not ready to break over, but closer. I could make out her features a little. Her facial features weren't visible yet, but I knew she was beautiful already. Her slender form was outlined, however, when she stood to check her own net. She was thin, her hips a little wider than her waist and her breasts small but nicely shaped. Her figure could have been that of a sixteen-year-old, though she was almost twenty-three. I couldn't see it in the darkness, but her skin was tanned to the point of perfection. The island sun would do that to anyone I suppose. My skin was well browned by now as well. It had been three months.
Once she was satisfied with the condition of the net, she stepped to the front of the boat (it was three tiered, having a center piece made of about ten logs, and a tier to either side, both made of five logs; the side tiers, unlike the middle one, were tied together in a bundle. The bamboo created a plane between the three tiers, holding them in place, as well as softer padding covering the floor of the middle tier, like carpeting). There, she pulled her T-shirt over her head, leaving her in her bikini top and cut-off jean shorts. I guessed she would go as I did, in her underwear. That way we could hang the undies out to dry and wear the dry clothes. She dropped the shorts, then, to my surprise, untied her bikini top and dropped it on her others clothes, then took off the underwear and did the same.
Naked now, though, to my disappointment, I couldn't see any features, she dove headlong into the water and placed her net. After about five minutes in the water, she swam back to the boat. The sun was getting even closer to rising, and now she was more visible, but not enough for a clear view of her beautiful body as she pulled herself out of the water and into the boat again. She stood there, shivering, with her arms held across her chest as if to warm herself, and then she sat, folding her body in on itself to further the effect. I sat and watched, entertaining fantasies of offering her a hand in keeping warm and smiling to myself at the ridiculous nature of it.
We would wait about twenty minutes, and then dive back in to check the nets. In the meantime, we would sit in the cold, waiting for sunrise, an event quickly approaching, and hoping for warmth. Ironic, considering that, an hour from now, we'll be roasting in the sun's light, wishing for the cold air we wanted rid of now.
We sat in silence; the only sounds the occasional chattering of teeth. As we did, the sun slowly neared the horizon. After fifteen minutes had passed, she stood, stretching. Her body, still mostly a silhouette, but more visible than ever, was plotted against the distant sky, deep orange with the oncoming sunrise, the color leaving an orange trail across the water in the form of a reflection that shimmered surreally and seemed to point at her, as if she were the object of its attention and fantasy as well. I decided I was willing to share in this case. She stood there for a moment, appearing angelic in that poise, fingers laced together and arms above her head, stretching upward toward where the sky above was still dark, on her toes to accentuate this poise, then dropped her arms to her sides and let her weight fall onto her heels again, letting out a light groan of relaxation and rocking the boat slightly.
She took a few small steps toward the front of the boat, raised her arms as though she were a gymnast and gracefully leapt from the boat and into the water. I watched as she vanished beneath the surface, and then took in a deep breath, realizing then that I'd been holding it as I watched her stretch.
She resurfaced at the end of the net. I watched her wiping water from her eyes, then shaking her head slowly, disappointed. I was about to ask if she'd found anything in her net when she dove back beneath the water and swam beneath the boat, coming up for air a few seconds later on the opposite side, then dipped beneath the surface to check the net I'd dropped. When she surfaced again, she was near the front of the boat. I looked to her questioningly. She shook her head, then said, "Some, but not many. Not quite enough. Perhaps a few more minutes will suffice."
I nodded back, and then smiled politely.
"Can I help you out of the water?"
She smiled back, and then reached up to me with one hand. I stood, taking hold of her hand and carefully pulling her up. She pushed down on the edge of the boat, helping my efforts until she was able to get a knee on the same edge, then pulling her other foot out of the water and into the boat. She gained her balance a moment later, and we stood facing each other, the sun now breaking over the horizon's edge. I tried to look her in the eye, to keep myself from glancing down at the body I'd wondered about all morning, but my efforts were in vain. My eyes dropped, almost without my realizing it, and found themselves gazing upon her breasts, each small but perfect, each wet with the ocean's water, the rising sun's light reflecting off of the them, making them glisten in the orange light.
As soon as they'd fallen, I caught myself and raised them again, hoping she hadn't seen and knowing that, though I'd only caught a brief glimpse, I'd never forget the sight I'd beheld. She looked back at me, the corners of her mouth curling into the beginnings of a smile. I was relieved in a way; I hadn't offended her. But the embarrassment of my mistake was still strong,
"I'm sorry," I explained, but her smile just broadened.
