Wednesday, 4 January 2017

Fiction: Coral Reef

It hadn't taken me too long to get to the reef. I was waylaid a couple of times on the way - a shark here, an overzealous policeman there - but, considering how long it's taken me in the past, this was an easy journey. I'm aware - as I was then, of course - that I wasn't supposed to go to the reef, but since when have I done anything anyone else told me to? That's what independence is about, right?

Truth be told, I wouldn't have gone there, were it not for the tourists. I wasn't meant to be there for the same reason - but if they weren't meant to see me, nobody had said anything about me not seeing them. 

And I loved to watch them. Hiding under the overhangs of coral, or squeezing into rocky crevices, I could peek upwards and watch them. Seeing the gaggle of people pressed up against the sides of their glass-bottomed boat, their only view of the reef through the screen of their camera or recorded on their 'phone for whatever purpose. It always amused me, how little these people saw. The divers, in all their gear, got a little closer, their masks turning the clear blue into a murky green. But I liked watching those the best. If I was lucky, I'd see one whose suit was possibly a little too tight. All the contours of their body, all the curves, the lines, perhaps seeing more than I should - all framed in plastic, close enough almost to touch...

And that was how I spent my days. If you ever saw a flash of tail larger than you expected, or heard something closer to a giggle, that was me. I couldn't help it. I liked to tease. I still do.

And then, that one evening, I saw her.

It was a clear, starry, moonlit summer night. Even from beneath the surface I could see almost to the top, and I was resting on my back, lying on the coral. Who was going to see me? Everyone would be asleep. The boat had been by earlier - I wasn't expecting it to return. But, this one night, it did. It went straight above me... and the light was on.

I froze, wondering how many people would see me through the glass... maybe if I stayed still enough they'd think I was part of the coral? Or perhaps they'd see my tail and mistake me for a dolphin or something? Maybe I could just make a break for it and...?

...and then I stopped. Because there was only one person there. And there was no doubt about it... she was looking straight at me.

And she was perfect. Her beautiful body like a pool of perfection - a wonderful frame, a good stance, full breasts, and a long sweep of dark hair over one shoulder, all offset by the twinkle in her eyes and the half-smile that turned quickly into a grin as she saw me. From the moment I saw her, I couldn't have moved, even if I still wanted to. With my heart pounding in my chest, my head in a spin and a slight throb just below my stomach, I made to smile back at her.

And then she bit her lip. Running a finger through her hair, she took a step closer to the glass, and traced a line from her collarbone down between her breasts. Even from the distance, I could tell she let out a small sigh.

I'd never really realised until that moment how naked I've always been. My own breasts, buoyed by the swell of the sea, were completely bare, and the only thing that needed to be covered - my own little coral reef - had a shell in front of it, held on by string. It's not something we consider, really, and yet I know those above go for covering most of their bodies. This lady was wearing a clinging white T-shirt and blue jeans, not that either of those left much to the imagination. For the first time in my life I felt underdressed... and yet I still wished I was wearing less.

Maybe it was my nudity that made her do it. Or maybe she was being as rebellious as me. But once she started cupping her breasts, I didn't really care any more. I copied her, caressing my own tits, running my fingers over my soft skin, even teasing my pert nipples once or twice. Holding her gaze, I licked my full lips and swept a hand through the water. If she was going to do more, I was going to make her want more.

And how much more I wanted. If only I'd had her with me. I'd have my mouth pressed against hers, melting into a deep, passionate, lustful kiss. We'd be able to curl our bodies together, our breasts mashing together, her legs wrapped around my tail. Maybe she wouldn't have those clothes on - maybe her sex would brush against mine. Would her tongue caress my warm, wet slit? Or maybe mine would hers? What would her curves feel like under my hands? Or her legs, wrapped around my head, while she grips my hair and cries out?

As all these thoughts spun through my head I realised that I had my eyes closed and a couple of fingers underneath my shell, stroking my warm lips, a pulse coming from my pearl, rocking my body. I arched my back, unable to stop myself, and from what I could see of her above, she was more than enjoying this view. I'd rarely given way to my desires, been so wanton, not least for one of those above. And yet, at this moment, in this place, it felt natural. It felt right. It felt good.

"Ha de schemo," I whispered throatily, "mashada... la samoli... no pike sali..." And I let out, finally, a long, low moan, something that I heard echoed all the way through the cavernous sea, whistling through the coral, making the water whip around my hair.

I looked up at her, body throbbing, and could see that she had sat down, and had her legs pressed firmly together, her hands still stroking her breasts through her shirt. Desperate to give her that sweet release she needed, I shook myself out of my reverie, wanting to swim up there and take her; it just seemed so simple an idea, so easy, and would be so rewarding...

I lay there watching as she managed to stand up and walked unsteadily away, giving me one more coquettish look over her shoulder before vanishing, the light dimming as she did so. My hand stretched out... but she was gone.

As I made my way back home, I entertained myself by wondering exactly what she would be doing once she got back to her cabin. Maybe her dreams would also be slick with lust that night.

As an entry for Charlie Powell's "Polished" competition. I know very little about nail polish... although more than I do about lipstick... but this was still fun!

2 comments:

Mrs Fever said...

I really like this - what a creative approach to a creative prompt!

Jolyon Folkett said...

Brilliant imagination and well written