The late morning sun is already hot and the air so still that it barely moves the lace-like branches of the tamarisk. Only the third day into their Aegean idyll. A vacation for the senses, that was the mutual promise.
Eleven fifteen. "About time for my walk,"Jason says.
"Hmmm," Miranda replies dreamily from under her broad rimmed hat. "Where will you go?"
"Back uphill and around the cove. Must be a nice view from that chapel up there."
She raises her head, tips back the brim of her hat. "Think so?" The white chapel tips the arm that encloses the north side of the cove. She sees a small lizard scuttle over the hot rocks.
He stands, collects his day pack. "Yes. Think Vassily will come by on his lunch break?"
"He has two hours free every day between noon and two..."
Jason looks down over her lightly tanned body, nipples like milk chocolate buds. Dusty blonde hair loose over her shoulders. "I noticed he has an eye for the fairer types."
She grins, laying back onto her beach towel. "You noticed! I'm sure he does, especially if he knows I might be here on my own today..."
"We'll see."
"OK," from under the shade of her broad-rimmed hat. "See you later."
* * * *
Ten past twelve, and the rasp of a scooter dusting along the dirt track down from the main road. Jason sits in the shadow of the chapel wall, leaning against a large overhang of rock. Through his small binoculars he watches Vassily stop at the end of the dirt track and look down along the cove. Most tourists go to the main beach four kilometers south, at Ag. Georgios beach, with its tavernas and cafes. Only a few are interested in this empty place. Three or four couples at the south end of the cove, close to the descending path. One solitary female lays to the north sunning on the sand collected around the beach tamarisk, hidden from them.
Vassily takes the footpath down to the shore, walks along the water's edge. As he approaches the north end, under the chapel, he sees Miranda on her stomach. He waves, probably says something like 'what a surprise to see you here'. Miranda turns her head, gives a quick wave back. He approaches and sits next to her. She props herself up on her elbows. They both fill the field of view in the binoculars. Jason lowers them to concentrate on sound. But the distance and the light waves breaking on the shore and the stray gusts of wind are enough to muffle voices further below.
Vassily stands and must make a suggestion about going for a swim. Miranda also stands, throws her hat down onto the towel. Vassily runs ahead, springs a couple of times through the small waves then dives under the water. Miranda is more cautious, tightropes over the pebbles which shelve steeply into the water for a few meters, then eases herself forward into the pale crystal blue water. Her blonde shoulder length hair spreads like a fan behind her. Miranda floats on her back, small chocolate nipples puckering in the cool water. Vassily paddles on his side in circles around her. They must be chatting, drifting on the gentle swell of waves.
Vassily stands beside her, water above his elbows. Miranda floats on her back close to him, arms spread in the water, paddling slowly. He reaches out to hold her, to keep her from drifting. Then he dives, reaches his arms up around her waist and pulls her under. Miranda scrambles to the surface, gasping water, splashing for balance. She is a full head shorter than Vassily and a rising wave, swelling up towards the shore, pushes her towards him. He holds her shoulders to steady her. They stand close together. Miranda pushes the hair back from her face then rests them on his upper arms, balancing herself, bodies close. Another wave lifts her in the water and pushes her body against his. His hands under water on her hips.
Jason takes a deep breath.
Vassily falls back into the water, pulls Miranda forward onto him while he kicks towards shore. They stand as they get closer to shore, Miranda again stumbles on the pebbles. He has an arm around her shoulder, Miranda slips and arm around his waist as they both step up to the beach. Waking back to the towels Miranda drops her arm. Dries herself, runs her fingers through her wet hair, shakes her head, strands of hair whipping about. She replaces her wide brimmed hat then stretches out on her stomach. After a moment Miranda rolls over into her back, the arm closest to Vassily tucked back behind her head. Vassily rests on his side, propped on an elbow, facing her.
Binoculars lowered a moment, Jason wipes perspiration from his eyes and adjusts his sitting position. Tight in the shade of the chapel, elbows propped on knees for stability. Again eyes to binoculars, the circle of light filled with the water's edge, then the footprints in the sand, then the two of them laying on their towels.
Vassily is delicately brushing at sand which has dried on her lightly tanned skin. He brushes it from the curve of her hip, plays at digging grains from the pit in her abdomen. His lips move silently. Miranda must laugh, doubles up, then stretches out again. His fingers brush over her abdomen while talking, then rests motionless at her waist, palm flat fingers spread. Miranda raises the brim of her hat, tilts her head up to look at him. Exchanging words. Miranda lowers her head again onto her curled arm.
Vassily's hand circles casually, slowly over her abdomen, up her side.Miranda twitches at the delicate tickle. He again makes short brush strokes at isolated grains of sand, on her stomach, then over the curve of a breast, traces a finger around a light chocolate nipple. His body inches closer to hers, his hand slides down over her stomach and abdomen then up again, fingers closing around her breast. Miranda places a hand on his forearm, seeming to stop him.
