NOTE: This is my first posted story. It's part of a longer series, describing a young woman's adventures in Tahiti, where she explores herself, her sexuality, and her perspectives on living a balanced life. If you like and would like to read more, please vote and comment. Thanks!
CHAPTER 3
The next morning, Jennifer woke before her alarm. Climbing out of bed, she walked to the heavy curtains and peeked through the gap at the horizon, blazing orange with the rising sun. The weather looked promising, without a single cloud in the sky. Jennifer picked a lime green thong bikini from her suitcase, then slipped on a pair of white cotton shorts and a black halter top. From the suitcase, she took out the plastic bag containing her certification card, dive log, and reservation confirmation, which she slipped into her shorts pocket.
It had been almost a year since her last dive, when she and Matt had spent a long weekend in the Keys. Although she was certified before they met, it was a hobby she only indulged on vacation and even then, only rarely. All told, she had less than ten total dives under her belt in almost a decade. Every time she went out on the water, she felt like an amateur and relied on the experience of more seasoned divers.
Jennifer passed through the Island Pearl without stopping to sit down, picking up a glass of grapefruit juice to drink as she wandered down the buffet line. She added a slice of honeydew melon, a chocolate croissant, and a pat of butter to a small plate. Carrying the plate to the outer deck, she set it down on the railing and stood staring out at the calm glassy lagoon while she hurriedly downed her breakfast. Setting the plate on an empty table, she walked past the Bonne Temps, down the stairs to the infinity pool, and out onto the beach.
Several hundred yards past the resort, she saw the wooden hut for Tahiti Dive Adventures. From the beach, a long dock extended out over the water, where two dive boats were tied. Jennifer had arrived an hour early in the hope of getting the best rental equipment possible. As she approached the hut, she saw two men walk out of the hut toward one of the boats, each carrying two scuba tanks. Both wore dark sunglasses, but one was young, tall, and lean with short chaotic blond hair, while the other was older, average height, slightly muscular, with a gray beard and ponytail. They set the tanks on their sides on the dock next to the boat, then headed back toward the hut, where they crossed paths with Jennifer.
"Mornin," the blond man said with a slight Norwegian accent, smiling at her. "Diving with us today?"
"Yeah. Where do I go to pick up my gear?"
"Inside. Henri will get you set up," he replied. "I'm Sven." He pointed to the gray haired man. "That's Captain Billy."
"Jennifer."
Sven extended his hand, which Jennifer shook. He had the boyish look of apprentice, maybe press ganged into a life at sea schlepping scuba tanks, whereas Captain Billy was the living image of a pirate straight out of Treasure Island with tattoos stretching down each tanned, bulging arm.
"Nice to meet you," replied Sven. "Head on in and Henri'll get you squared away."
Sven and Billy stood aside for Jennifer to enter the hut. Inside, there were dozens of buoyancy compensator vests hanging from hooks on the walls. On the opposite wall were hooks holding masks of various sizes, shapes, and brands. The room was filled with the intoxicating aroma of neoprene and sea water. Scattered around the room were colorful dive posters, some with breathtaking underwater photography of exotic fish and others showcasing beautiful models sporting the sleekest new dive equipment.
A short man in a stained white tank top with greasy brown hair tied back with a rubber band sat behind a counter, clicking away at a computer. He looked up as Jennifer entered, then returned his attention to the computer screen.
"Here for the eight o'clock dive?" he asked without looking up again.
"Yeah, my reservation is under --"
"Have your c-card?" he asked. Jennifer pulled the plastic bag from her pocket, removed her diving certification card, and set it on the counter.
"Henri?" Jennifer asked.
He grunted, picked up her c-card and began typing her information into the computer.
"Okay, you're all checked in," he said, putting her card back on top of her other paperwork. "Do you have any dive equipment?"
"No, I'll need --"
"Here," Henri said, ignoring her. He walked over to the wall of BC's. Briefly, looking her over, he selected a small bulky vest and tossed it to her. Brushing past her, he picked a mask off the opposite wall and handed it to her. "Try this."
Jennifer stared at him, not understanding. He rolled his eyes.
"Like this," he said, raising his hands to his eyes as though he were looking through a pair of binoculars. "Put it over your eyes, then breathe in through your nose and hold your breath."
Jennifer put the mask to her face and did as she was instructed. The mask stuck to her face.
"Good," Henri said, moving behind the counter again. He pulled out a large plastic tub filled with regulators. Henri pulled a regulator from the tub and handed it to her, followed by a pair of full-foot fins. In a flurry, he brushed past her again, heading outside the hut and around to the parking area in the back, where multiple wetsuits hung from a rack. Jennifer followed him, holding the regulator in one hand, with BC and fins in the other. Henri pulled a small shorty wetsuit off the rack and slung it over the arm holding the regulator. Without another word, Henri headed back inside the hut, not bothering to look back to make sure Jennifer was following.
Once inside, Henri began typing again at the keyboard.
"Your total is $124.56," he told her.
"Oh, we already paid for the dive."
"The dive, not the gear," Henri said, exasperated. "The gear is extra."
"Oh, well, I didn't bring my credit card..."
"We have it on file."
"But my boyfriend won't be coming. He couldn't make the trip, so we can just cancel his dive. Can we credit his dive against the equipment rental?"
"Sorry, no refunds."
Irritated, Jennifer took a deep breath, then shrugged.
"Fine, just bill it to my card."
Jennifer heard a pair of feet tromping across the deck behind her and looked back, expecting to see Sven and Captain Billy. Instead, standing directly behind her were Ricki's friends from the Bonne Temps. Both men were wearing board shorts and t-shirts with the logo for Tahiti Dive Adventures on the front.
"About time you showed up!" Henri shouted across the counter. "Here, carry her gear down to the boat."
The heavyset man picked up the BC from the floor, while the tall man held out his hands to take Jennifer's gear.
"Diving with us today?" he asked. "I'm Rob. That's Captain Patrice."
The heavyset man, already headed toward the dock, peered back over his shoulder and yelled back, "Just Pat!"
"I'm Jenn," she answered. Up close, Jennifer was pleasantly surprised by Rob's height. Jennifer towered over most men at almost six feet tall, but Rob was easily six foot five, possibly six foot six. It was rare for her to meet anyone who made her feel small or average sized (even Matt was only an inch taller than Jennifer).
