Bikini Bottoms
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I like to think that you can see the old me in this photo – the blonde haired surfer with the broad shoulders. But I guess the beads ruin it … the beads and the one of my breasts visible.

He saved my life, you see. Surfers like I was like to think that there is no sea we cannot paddle out of, but the truth is that some still drown, especially when surfing isolated coves with known rips.

Our boards are our only hope, but when that is gone you are treading water without a life preserver. He was in his boat and he dragged me out of the water as if I was a rag doll, and lay me down on his deck, forcing the water out of me and giving me the kiss of life. That was truly what it was.

“I owe you my life,” I told him.

“I’ll take it, then,” he said, with a smile. I had no idea what that meant.

His name was Andre. He said that his father was Chinese and that according to Chinese tradition - “once you've saved a person's life, you're responsible for it forever.”

I said – “That sounds stupid. I am not responsible for anyone. I believe in what I see and feel – the sky, the wind and the sea”. I was full of that shit in those days.

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” he said. “I am bound to care for you, and if you look around you, I think that you will see that I can afford to do that.”

It was an impressive boat – a luxury ocean-going sailboat - the sky, the wind and the sea. My board was lost and my car I could pick up later. It seemed like a good idea to ride this wave wherever it took me. That is what you do when you catch the best wave. So I agreed to stay.

“I have clothes below that you can wear,” he said. “Not my clothes because you are clearly larger than me. My ex-wife was your size. Why not go to the master stateroom and find something.”

It may sound crazy, but that is how it all started. I found a floral dress in my size and I took out my man bun and went back to the helm where he was sitting expecting him to laugh out loud at how ridiculous I must have looked. He just nodded in approval.

Before we docked I had received him inside me a dozen times, my first experiences of gay sex, although that was not what it seemed to be. I have lived with him ever since – not on his boat but in his mansion on the point beyond the marina that carries a Chinese name – Tianfenghai, meaning the sky, the wind and the sea. Was it coincidence or was all this meant to be?

Somehow it seemed that way. I just fell into the role of a woman and a wife to Andre as if this was a future that has always been waiting for me. It is like the past never existed, or has gone the way that I suppose my car parked behind the dunes must have gone – rotted out by the sun and salt and covered in sand blown in by the wind. Things not needed simply decay and disappear, although that is not always true

I have not surfed since we got together. Now the breasts have grown through the hormones I wanted to take to please him, I can wear a bikini top and I often do. But something stands in the way of me being able to wear bikini bottoms.

Andre will pay to make it happen, but perhaps you understand how I feel. A little fearful and a little excited. Perhaps that is why I am fiddling with the beads. What should I do?

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2024