Memoirs Of a Dance Hall Romeo (1989) by Higgins Jack

Author:Higgins, Jack [Jack, Higgins,]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-03-16T14:25:48+00:00

I watched her go toward the pool, captivated by that superb body of hers, pale in the moonlight, ethereal, unreal. She disappeared from view. I heard a gentle splash, the sound of swimming.

My heart was beating like a trip-hammer as I undressed quickly and followed her. I stood at the pool's edge, peering about me, unable to see her, which was hardly surprising in all that steam.

"Imogene, where are you?" I whispered.

There was no reply. I sat down on the edge and lowered myself into the water. It was extraordinarily pleasant, more like a warm bath than anything else and there was that wonderful feeling of freedom that one gets when swimming with nothing on.

I moved toward the deep end, vaguely alarmed. "Imogene!" I called.

She materialized from the mist, poised on top of the high-diving platform, a heart-stopping sight in the moonlight. She dived before I could call out to her, a perfect half-pike, which still made far too much noise for our situation.

She surfaced within a yard of me, laughing, hair clinging to her face. "Isn't it marvelous?"

"You must keep quiet," I hissed. "You're making too much noise."

I suppose I sounded pretty annoyed, but we were in a vulnerable situation, to say the least, if we were discovered. The attitude of authority toward a bunch of teenage boys caught in such circumstances was one thing; a man and a woman, a couple of teachers to boot, were something else again.

"Don't be angry, Oliver." She reached under the water.

My heart was pounding nineteen to the dozen again, and I cupped my hands over her breasts, treading water, for it was eight feet deep at that end.

"You really are the most infuriating girl."

"Take me, Oliver," she said dramatically. "Now, as I am. Naked and unafraid." She smiled. "I've never tried it this way before."

An invitation impossible to deny, and I eagerly moved in at once. Of course, the trouble with most sexual fantasy is that the reality simply can't measure up, and often for the most absurd of reasons.

To the average man the idea of making love to that magnificent creature, drifting languorously in warm, translucent water, must probably sound like the final end to all things. Nirvana achieved.

To start with, I had considerable difficulty in any kind of a union at all below waist level, for in spite of the fact that she floated passively on her back, the currents in the water caused by my approach pushed her away from me.

We went under twice before achieving the necessary connection, and any amount of times after that as I attempted to perform my part. We rolled and twisted in the water, blowing for air like a couple of whales each time we surfaced.

Imogene seemed to find the whole thing enormously funny and she shrieked with laughter, the sound echoing between the walls. I was in no fit state to prevent her, was not even able to help myself. When I went under again, I decided it was for the last time, and threw in my hand.

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