From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 29 Dec 2001 17:24:05 -0000
Subject: A Deceptive Depth by C and Me
Source: direct

Reply To: berngard3@yahoo.com


Title:  A Deceptive Depth
Author:  C and Me  email: berngard3@yahoo.com
Date authored: 8/7/00
Rating:  NC 17
Spoilers:  None
Catagory:  V
Keywords: MSR
Rating:  NC-17 (just in case)
Summary:  Timeline -- hard to say, but probably somewhere around
the third season, before the characters changed slightly.  I
imagined M and S on a case somewhere in the warm, turquoise
waters of the Caribbean.  Guess that would mean. . .PR or the
Virgin Islands.  Pre-fluff
Disclaimer:  Once upon a time there was a man named Chris, and he
invented all these wonderful stories, and he made lots of money
off them, and then. . .something happened to his writing team. .
. .   And if he can find ANY mention of his characters here. . .
Feedback:  always welcomed  berngard3@yahoo.com


* * *

I throw the anchor over the side, having reached the calm waters
of the inlet in my dingy.   I can see straight to the bottom,
crystal clear with a tinge of blue is the ocean today.  The
bottom is sandy, undulated by small waves.  No fish or other
intruders swim by to give any semblance of disturbing the peace I
seek.  It does not look deep.  I see my anchor rest on the
bottom, having sent a small cloud of sand into the mix when it
settled.  The sand has now dissipated.

I shed my clothes, casting off the white tank top, blue shorts
and white lace panties I wore out here.  I seek only the cool
refreshment of the water.  The sun beats down its steady stream
of golden light, hot and searing at noon.  The water is my only
refuge.  I pull my hair back in a scrunchie, stand and dive over
the side into the silky water below.

It is as I have suspected, refreshing, life-giving, fulfilling. 
My feet do not touch the bottom, and I do not know how much
farther I must go to feel the grains prickle my toes, feel the
assurance I am still of this earth.  I suspect it is another few
inches, maybe a couple of feet.  

I turn my back to the deep and float face up to the blue, blue
sky.  It looks so close I could touch it, but as I reach my arm
heavenward, the sky is no nearer.  It shifts and drifts further
away, with the few clouds which punctuate its scape.  

My arm returns to the water, straight out to my side, and I
float, as still in the water as the water around me.  My breasts
bob and dip in the small waves lapping at my side.  I close my
eyes as my breathing becomes deep and sure.  I could sleep
floating like this, letting the world pass me by to another day. 
I wonder how long it will take for my skin to burn and turn red
in places which never see the sun.  I wish I could float on my
stomach, arms pillowing my head.  It is not to be.

My ears pick up the water hitting the side of my dingy, the
contact finite and limiting the flow of ocean and sound around
me.  My ears also seek out and find a foreign noise:  the strike
of oar in the water.

I let my legs sink back down toward the ocean floor, as my arms
again come around and I tread water, scanning my limited horizon
for the intruder.   He is there, almost on top of me as he pulls
his identical dingy next to mine and hoists the anchor into the
water on the far side.  

I know him. . .sometimes too well.  He has followed me out here
after I left in my anger to cool down.  I did not expect him to
do this, although I am not disappointed by his arrival.  I wonder
if he can see through the water to the bottom like me, the water
clear and still but for my beating legs and the swirl of my arms.


He removes his sunglasses and reaches his arms across for the hem
of his shirt.  I know he intends to shed it and join me in the
water.  Now would be a good time to explore the depth of the
bottom.

I allow myself to sink, arms stretched over my head in a V
anticipating my eventual return to the surface.  I feel the
waters pull me and my lung full of air down, cooling my head as
the water lifts my hair and it floats out and around me.

The water is disturbed as if another has plunged in, ruffling the
waves against my breasts and causing them in turn to flutter.  My
toe strikes the bottom as I allow my knees to bend and pull me
down closer.  I push off, a little lift for the return trip.

As I glide gently back to air, I feel strong hands on my waist
piloting me upward.   My arms whip down, half in propulsion, half
to steady myself against the intruder who is now in the water
with me.  They come to rest on his shoulders.  I know without
looking they are tawny, broad and solid.   I know the comfort
they provide as I lean against one or the other at night.  I know
they can hurl a punch at an offending alien as surely as they can
cradle me tenderly.  I know these shoulders. . .and their owner.

My head breaks the surface.  I open my mouth to the onrush of
air, and flick my head back, my hair flying first in front then
down behind me, flattening on my scalp and allowing me to open my
eyes.  

He is still there, hands still on my hips.  He knows my nakedness
now, as natural as the sea which envelops us.  If I look, I will
know his too.

His eyes are deep pools of black and gold, his brow furrowed in
question he does not enunciate.  He wants to know if I forgive
him his outburst, if my anger has subsided in the cooling depths
of this pool.  His eyes are lined with worry and tension, as if
he will shatter into a thousand million droplets of salt water
and slip below the surface if I do not pardon.  

Right now I do not want to pardon.  I want. . .his lips on mine,
his hand gliding over my slicked surface to my hidden folds.  I
want to feel him in me as the sun baptizes our union.  I want an
end to the sexual tension which surrounds us like this calm pool,
floating with us where we wander.  I want him.

He does not stir the water.  Do his feet touch the bottom where
mine did not?  Is it so shallow I could slide down his body to
check the depth. . .to get caught on his sex erect and willing
and waiting?   We play games, too often and too many.  I want an
end to the games.  

His gaze has not moved from my eyes.  Has he surreptitiously
examined my nakedness and found it uninteresting, not worthy of a
return perusal?  Is he too embarrassed to find us both here. .
.like this. . .that he does not wish to heighten his discomfort
by studying me?  

I still my legs and hang in his arms.  The only things holding me
up are his hands on my waist and mine on his shoulders.   We are
but inches apart.

My heart is beating wildly in my chest, and I am surprised it
does not send wave after wave out from us, inundating our
dinghies and swamping us in its fury.  I see his heartbeat in the
artery on his neck.  It pulses in rhythm with mine.  How odd. . .
.  I should study this. . .as a medical doctor, I should study
this.  It is not on my list of wants right now.

His mouth parts slightly, allowing deeper breaths.  How I would
like to explore it as I have explored this pool, plunging nakedly
into its depths, reaching bottom and pushing off, floating.  It
mesmerizes me.

I look up to his eyes again.  They are focused on my mouth, which
like his hangs open.  I lick my lips, drawing in the bottom to
suck off the salt.  I release the lip and feel it slide back into
place, wet.

My hands move of their own accord, past his shoulders to the back
of his neck.  My thumbs feel the damp hairs where water still
drips, shedding the sea.  My arms rest on his shoulders, the
crook of my elbow on top of his tanned muscles.  In the depth my
thigh brushes something I know is his erection.  Just this
knowledge and contact causes my own fires to ignite.  I liquefy
between my legs, readying for him.

Our heads move in unison slowly toward each other, our parted
lips finding their companions.  His arms move across my back,
tightening on the opposites sides from their initial reach,
holding me close.  His tongue enters my mouth, invited and warm,
searching, stroking,  My legs bend and open, resting on his hips,
trapping his erection between my folds.  All I have to do is lift
and impale myself for my list of wants to be complete.

As his hand seeks out and finds my breast under the water, I
conclude we will be tying off one dingy to the other and rowing
lazily back to our rooms, only one of which will be occupied
tonight.  

* * *

The End