The full moon seemed to be rising up from the ocean on the far horizon. It was 11:00pm and the beach was nearly deserted. There was a warm breeze blowing inland that kept Karen's raven black hair swirling. As far as she was concerned, this was the best time of day to take a stroll. The tide was coming in and she removed her sandals to walk along the water's edge.
She enjoyed spending more and more time alone at her beach house. She made it perfectly clear during the divorce hearing two years ago that the Panama City beach house was non negotiable. Steve had done well in the stock market and therefore agreed to her demands for a large cash settlement and the title deed to the beach house. He wanted out of the marriage and Karen out of his life. His desire was to spend more time with his newest young plaything, anyway. She could have probably gotten more in the settlement, but she knew that his new fling would soon tire of her middle-aged sugar daddy and the pleasure of watching him suffer romantic rejection and depression was worth more than money.
The foamy surf splayed over her toes and feet as she walked along. Up ahead on the lighted pier, a young couple strolled together hand in hand. She didn't miss all the emotional complexities that came with a relationship, but honestly, she did miss the sex. The divorce had so angered and disappointed her that she felt if she could ever find a man to satisfy her sexual desires and expect little in return she would be content. She never wanted to be emotionally vulnerable again.
She was 38, but looked ten years younger. Her skin was still smooth, her breasts firm, and she was just about the ideal weight for her 5'8" frame. Still, she realized this wouldn't last forever, and it seemed the older she got, the faster time moved along.
Turning around at the pier, Karen began the quarter mile walk back to her house moving along the shadow of the dunes. The image of the couple on the pier still lingered in her mind. She envisioned them returning to their motel room and quenching their insatiable lust that had been building throughout the day. Visions of their passion filled her mind. The woman, with her legs wrapped tightly around the man's back, crying out in ecstasy as he pumped faster nearing his own completion. Karen felt the wet stirring of arousal forming between her legs, and knew she would be taking care of her own needs when she returned home.
With her mind still focused on lustful images, Karen failed to notice the shadowy form slipping over the sand dune and through the growth of wild sea oats. It was only when the figure was within a few feet that she finally realized she wasn't alone. She turned around, startled.
She relaxed a little when she saw him. He didn't appear threatening at all.
"I didn't mean to frighten you," he said, in slightly accented English. He was tall, more than six feet, with a muscular frame accentuated by a thin white T-shirt and khaki shorts. A small gold medallion hung loosely on a chain around his neck.
"I don't usually meet anyone on my walks," Karen said, cautiously, still unsure why this stranger had approached her.
"Please forgive my boldness, but I've been watching you for some time now," he said. Although obscured by shadow, Karen tried to focus more clearly on his face. By what features she could see he was a very handsome man. She judged his age to be somewhere close to hers, maybe mid to late thirties. There was something oddly familiar about his voice.
"You've been watching me?"
"I find you to be a most beautiful woman," he said.
Karen was flattered and intrigued. His voice was deep and his accent, although slight, was sensual.
"Please, walk with me," he said, holding out his hand. Surprising herself, she allowed him to lead her down to the water's edge. Away from the dune, and with the full moon now high overhead, she got a better look at her companion and felt a shiver run the entire length of her spine. Suddenly she recognized the familiarity of his voice. The line between reality and fantasy had been crossed. Neither of them spoke for several moments, and he waited patiently while Karen's mind fought desperately to comprehend what was happening. She looked out toward the incoming surf.
"Have we met before?" she finally asked, in an unsteady voice. "Are you . . . Geoffrey?"
"Yes" He gently turned her shoulders until she faced him. "You recognize me," he said, softly.
"Yes" she said, almost breathlessly. "But . . . it's not possible."
"Many things are possible," he whispered, pulling her closer.
Karen's mind was racing. This was the man who had occupied her most intimate and erotic dreams for many years. He was the man who knew exactly how to love her. He knew where and how to touch her, bringing her to ultimate sexual pleasure, causing her to wake in the middle of the night trembling with her orgasm. And this was the man, through her dreams, who helped her retain her sanity through the last turbulent year of her nearly sexless marriage. But that's all it was, just a dream, her private fantasy, a secret she held never to be shared with anyone. And yet, here she was actually face to face with her fantasy lover.
"Are you real?" she asked, expecting him to vanish at any moment.
He laughed sharply. "Of course I'm real."
"But how did you . . .?"
