The sensuous swimmer looks like a goddess today. I doze under the blazing sun. Meanwhile, she owns her liquid dominion. 

She calls my name from the water, waves hello with slender arms, wide open, her swimming motions more like flying, now. I would spot her easily in a crowd. Life itself speaks eloquently through her charms.

The swimmer yearns for an aquatic partner. Her voice takes me out of my nap as she smiles to me from afar, in the deserted beach. From the waves inciting me (enthusiastically gesturing, hurrying me to give up the firm land of my towel, to join her in her element).

Persuasive sensuous swimmer... Waving with the enthusiasm of a child, she is quite a sight. I stare at her, store her image safely in my memory, and do nothing but absorb her entirely, with incredulous eyes. 

From the distance, she highly praises with melifluous voice the delightful coolness of her waters,  the cristal-clear, paradise-like seabed... it is really a paradise. "She is a paradise on her own, no need for palm trees, mojitos, choral reefs and white sands", I consider.

(in other terms, how a man in his senses could resist her call?)

I know her well, and she is no dream, nor the byproduct of a feverish, sun-induced dellusion. And yet, being myself still dozing, anchored to my hot spot of sand, she looks too good to be true; she might as well be a mirage (doubt strikes, since the sun has hit me hard with its vertical slap, and I feel hot and dizzy).

But no, no, no, she is real, although I would accept that her heavenly charm might well come from another world. 

I will not follow her to the pelagic depths. I have a much better plan: I will find a comforting shadow and block the bright light with my shades. Then I will wait for the sensuous swimmer to come to me, to give up her element, to set her feet on my sands.

And eventually the sensuous swimmer makes her way back through the land. I would not miss her return for anything, the water sadly kissing goodbye to her as she emerges fully by the seashore, her slow walk, her bare feet caressed by the last waves, the naked legs that the waters wisely kept concealed, her smile growing wider as she approaches her devoted observer.

There are no reproach, no hard feelings for my apparent lack of answer to her invitations. There is no room for words in this huge NOW of ours. Just the moisture on her skin, the well-known motions to dry her hair, my shameless look to her fully exposed neck.  She knows, I know.

Coincidentally (nature is wise) she feels cold while I am burning hot. 

Then the spark, the luminous idea, the perfect exchange, the deal.

As she leans her body over me, cooling my hot body like the softest rain (and firing my passion as well, oh my), finding herself in me the warmth my body stored for her, and only for her.

1 comment:

  1. no me perdí este relatiño... no!
    me gusta mucho muchísimo!


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