As the red hull of the canoe moved smoothly through a slight chop on the lake, Danny dipped his paddle and pulled strongly toward the far side. It was a near-perfect day on the lake; sunny, a light breeze and the smell of summer in the air.
In the stern, Danny had his sites set on the far side of the lake, a spot he knew would hold some voracious trout. This lake, his lake, as he liked to call it, was nearly perfect, long, fairly narrow, sided by steep hills that kept the winds at bay. It had deep areas for fishing and grassy, shallow bays that were always warm and perfect for swimming.
In the bow, Sheila lounged with a couple of lifejackets behind her for padding, her long legs draped over the front seat toward him. Her tanned arms rested along the gunwales and the sun shone sharply off the mirrored Oakleys that covered her eyes. An osprey screeched overhead as Danny, on his knees paddling, kept up an even, constant paddling rhythm.
"This is a nice little lake," said Sheila. "Not exactly my beach, but it's nice."
Here we go, thought Danny, the beach again. Sheila did go on about "her" beach; the one she hung out at, surfed at, drank beer at, barbecued shrimp at. She went on and on about it, and he sometimes wondered why she had ever left it for Canada. On the other hand, looking at her body covered by the tiniest sky blue bikini, he was glad she had a taste for travel and had moved to Canada to work.
Still, to hear her talk sometimes, you'd think Australia was the greatest place in the whole world. And, since Danny had never been there, it was hard to argue with her. Still...
"Yeah, I like it. And there's nothing in here that can kill you, like sharks, barracuda, sea snakes." The whole time they had known each other, they had traded similar barbs; taking shots at each other's country while building up their own. It had become a bit of a mind game between them.
"I suppose that's true," she sighed, stretching like a cat in the sun. "But I do miss the beach. It's so... home, I guess."
Danny also sighed. He knew she missed home, but he sure as hell didn't want her heading back south. "I know babe, but think of this as home away from home."
Looking at Sheila through his own shades, Danny studied, once again, her fine form. At 5-foot-eight, she was just a couple of inches shorter than he was, but it seemed like a lot of her height was shapely legs that went on forever. And when those legs were wrapped around him, well... But possibly what he liked best was the way her body was sprinkled with sexy freckles. The freckles were part of a package that included long blonde hair bleached by the sun, firm, full breasts, frosty blue eyes and a very fair complexion. When they met the previous winter, Danny had found her skin to be unbelievably pale. With summer, though, and glorious sunny days, Sheila had turned into a bronzed goddess.
And Danny thought it cool that they were such a contrast. Where she was fair, he was dark; she was blonde, his hair was jet black; she was freckly, he was clear-skinned.
Looking at her in the bow, he felt a stirring in his swimsuit, a feeling he'd enjoyed often since meeting Sheila.
"You know, in Australia," said Sheila, "you're not really considered an Aussie unless you can surf, dive, or play football."
Danny wasn't sure where she was going with that comment. He paddled along, trying to come up with a response. Then it struck him. "Well, here in Canada, you're not really considered a Canadian unless you've made love in one of these babies," he said, thumping his hand on the gunwale. "Goes way back, likely to when the first fur traders started paddling their way around the country."
"Really? In one of these? I thought these things tipped over at the drop of a hat."
"See? That's what I mean, you have to be a Canadian to paddle and enjoy a canoe and you have to be a "real" Canadian to make love in one. It's just a Canadian thing that not many other people seem to get the hang of."
"Well, that's an interesting historical note," said Sheila.
