I met Charlotte by the sea and she was winsome as any mermaid my puerile fantasies could ever conjure. And she was incredibly beautiful.
But there was a divide between her and me—wealth—that intangible element that wasn't merely calulated in money, stocks and precious metals, but in lifestyle and attitude.
I felt cramped and confined in her presence, afraid to make an embarrassing faux pas.
My guardedness caused me to be circumspect and that was a tonic that liberated her. Everything surrounding her became infused with brightness and life.
We sat beneath a colorful umbrella table while her maid served us drinks the color of the sea.
“What’s in this?” I asked.
“Verte absinthe. Do you like it?”
“I do—it tastes like anise.”
“It’s wormwood,” she whispered. “You’d best beware the Green Fairy.”
“Another danger to waylay me on the way home?” I joked.
“Why go home? I want you to stay.”
I didn’t know then the psychoactive properties of the drink and if I did, I doubt I’d care—I was obsessed with her.
She changed into a colorful, ankle-length shift that was even more seductive than the string bikini she wore.
The warm breeze began drying her hair and I saw it wasn’t dark as I supposed, but sun blonde.
We talked, watched clouds and sat mesmerized by the surf. The afternoon was a blur of crying gulls and lonely white waves.
When darkness fell and we had toasted the sunset’s dying rays, we went inside and straight to her bed.
The room was enormous with the French doors open to the sea and open also to the silvery track of moonlight on waves.
I felt we were on the beach—the surf pounding—my heart pounding—a ringing in my ears.
I awoke at dawn, chilled, crawled out of bed and stole away. I walked alone up the gray beach—went home to sleep in my own bed.
“You should never abandon a girl, Si.”
She was teasing me, standing in my open doorway while I was at my laptop on the dining room table.
“I didn’t mean any offense—just needed to sleep—if I stayed, I didn’t think I’d get any.”
I wasn’t sure if she bought my lie, but as I stared at her, I could feel the heat of passion coiling again in my belly.
“Don’t you have a study? I thought all writers wrote in a book-lined study.”
“There is a study, but I prefer a more open space where I can see the sea.”
“You do, huh?” She tilted her head to one side and slanted a mischievous glance at me. Her long blonde tresses hung down past her shoulders.
“Come on out then, and let’s play by the sea.”
I got up and crossed the wooden floor bare foot and took her in my arms and kissed her hard on the lips. She didn’t resist.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked.
“The same thing as you, but let’s save that for later.”
We took her motor launch and set out for a nearby key that was part of a federal nature reserve.
We anchored the boat in a sandy cove and lay on the beach on towels near some sheltering trees.
It was idyllic. Charlotte brought a picnic lunch that was more a champagne brunch—and then, it seemed the hours got away on us.
We powered back under starlight and spent another night of dark kisses and ocean breezes and again, I walked home in early dawn.
