For Tricia........who inspires me.
A newborn wave my love is.
Brave and bright in the sea of my life.
Rising to foaming crests of emotional ecstasy,
and crashing and splashing
the joy of your presence
on the shores of my thoughts.
My moments with you,
sparkle, like sundiamonds
collected in the troughs of the sea.
My heart soars with the gulls at your words.
Cathy Webb had not left her home in over ten years. Now, in late summer, she stood gazing from the window of The Seabreeze Hotel and considered the things that had brought her here. Time, time to get away, to take a break, to regroup, to take stock and to get out of the apathy in which she had wallowed since the separation. Somewhere quiet. DuBois Beach was certainly that. Just two hundred and seventy feet of rocks and sand. Pretty though, she thought. She had chosen New England and this time for the leaf-changing. A metaphor for the changes she knew she had to make. Cathy smiled at herself. Was she herself not in the late summer/ early fall of her life? She turned from the window and attended to unpacking the suitcase that lay open on the queen-sized bed. Placing things in neat piles in the available drawers, hanging things in the open closet, shoes, just three pairs, in a neat row beneath the garments. From the case, she chose to leave out the white sundress, which she would wear tomorrow over a bathing suit, and the white strap sandals that she had brought with her because they "went with everything". The white one-piece swimsuit was new, still in the package.
Cathy planned to be up early, and out. To explore the beach alone, before any late tourists arrived. She disrobed and shut the closet door. On the back was a mirror. She smiled at herself. A radiant smile she had had since childhood. That, thought Cathy, I have not lost. Standing naked before the mirror she appraised herself. Thick bodied but not obese, she spied traces of the body that used to be. The body before kids and perhaps some self esteem loss, caused by two, now defunct, marriages. Her breasts were full and large, the areolae almost silver dollar sized. They sat proudly above a rounded belly still fairly tight for a woman nearing forty. The legs were thick and strong with not too much cellulite. Altogether not that awful, Cathy thought, then walked to the shower.
Cathy turned on the shower and set it at a tolerable temperature, stepped in and began to shampoo her shoulder length strawberry-blonde hair. The warm water cascaded over her, caressing her body. Her hands slid the sponge over her naked form soaping her. She passed it over her breasts, brushing the nipples, down her body, over her thighs and between her legs. The body wash and water ran down her inner thighs as she washed her shaven vagina. Cathy was warm and relaxed now. The water massaging her. She pushed the sponge between her sex lips and squeezed it, a gush of soap and water bathing the opening, ennervating her. She released the sponge and it dropped between her feet, her fingers stayed at her sex. Cathy slipped one inside of her as she had done on countless occasions during and since her last marriage. She inhaled at the digital invasion, her excitement growing, pushed another finger into her vaginal hole alongside the first and began to masturbate herself. Pushing them in and out of her, stirring the juices. She pinched a nipple with her other hand teasing it hard, then slid it down her body, finding her, now erect, clitoris. The fingers of her left hand pushed in and out of her, as her right teased and excited the sex bud between the top of her lips. She gasped and tightened as she brought herself to the edge of release. She pulled the pumping fingers free and pushed down hard on her clit. A moan escaped her, and her legs buckled slightly, as her juices flooded from her vagina. They flowed onto her thighs and the cascading water carried them away. She stood under the sweet rain for a short while regaining her breath, then stepped from the shower and dried herself. Leaving the bathroom, she made sure her room door was securely locked, slipped naked between the hotel room bed sheets, set her alarm for six-thirty, and slept.
By six-thirty, the sun was clawing it's slow way above the horizon. Cathy looked out across the sea from her window and watched as the rising sun scattered a path of diamonds across the ocean surface to the shore below her. She opened the package containing the swimsuit and put it on. Looking in the mirror, she turned and checked it's fit. Not bad, she thought, fourteen is not that big. The white suit gave her body a little more tightness. The neutral color gave line and shape. The scooped neck was not too low, yet low enough to show a couple of inches of cleavage. Cathy took the sundress from the hanger and slipped it over the suit. It was gently belted and the one-inch buttons went from bodice to the lower hem. She leaned down and undid the bottom two buttons, making the skirt open to her knees. Cathy pulled the white, strappy sandals from the closet floor and buckled them at her ankles, closed the door, and picked up the straw tote bag from the bedside. In it she had packed a book, a large beach towel, her billfold, a pair of sunglasses and spf 45 sunscreen. She turned went out of her hotel room door, made sure it was locked behind her, and headed downstairs for the continental breakfast.
It was seven a:m. Cathy grabbed a warm croissant, some blueberry jelly, and made tea from one of the little teabags provided at the buffet. The morning, being as cool and pretty as it was, Cathy decided to eat her breakfast on the wrap-around porch of the hotel. She took her plate and teacup, walked through the open stained glass doors and deposited herself in one of the white wicker chairs on the porch. She placed the bag beside her chair, looked out to the beach and ocean, and ate her croissant. She felt, for the first time in along time, relaxed.
The sun was well above the horizon when Cathy rose, placed her plate and cup in the trash, pulled the tote bag up onto her shoulder and headed down the steps of the hotel to the small, secluded beach. She followed the boarded walkway down over the rocks and stepped off into the warm sand. The New England breeze played in her hair as she stood deciding on a direction to explore. She reached into the bag, removed the sunglasses and placed them on her face. Cathy turned to her left and headed along the beach. The open-toed sandals allowed the soft, warm sand to weave it's way in and over her toes. She would stop, now and again, to inspect an interesting shell she spotted at her feet, though, sadly, most were broken. As Cathy strolled along the rocks and sand, and the sun climbed higher in the sky, she became warmer, eventually turning right and walking some two feet or so into the gently lapping waves at the ocean's edge. The water felt good, cooling her somewhat. The sand beneath her was softer but even and firm, and she did not worry about the damage the sand and surf may do to the cheap sandals she had purchased just for this late summer escape.
Cathy walked on, lost in thoughts of her yesterdays and her tomorrows. Pondering the events that had brought her here, and wondering what life a single, woman approaching forty may have for herself. Would she spend it alone, loveless, directing her attentions to an already grown child and young grandchild? Perhaps, she thought, I am one of those that has loved and lost and all I can do is accept it.
When Cathy looked up from her reverie she found she had wandered quite a way. She was beyond the end of the beach. To her left was a sheer cliff, to her right ocean. Fortunately, the water had not deepened and she had maintained a straight path. She looked behind her and could see the end of DuBois Beach and the rise of the cliff to her right. Ahead, she could see the same cliff, its left edge descending sharply to the earth. Cathy stood and considered her options. She smiled to herself almost cynically, thinking this whole trip is about decision and discovery, angled herself in toward the edge of the cliff and strode towards the shore.
What Cathy found at the waterline both pleased and scared her. She had happened upon about forty feet of pristine beach enclosed by the walls of two cliffs. At the water's edge, at her feet were shells. Lots of them. Most unbroken by the tramplings of tourists. She gathered a few of the prettiest. Cathy looked around her. She was completely alone. She walked about ten feet up the twenty feet deep beach, reached into her tote bag pulled out the towel and laid it on the unmarked sand. Placing the bag on the ground beside the towel, Cathy removed her sundress, folded it and placed it behind her to use as a pillow, pulled her book from the bag, kicked her sandals off of her feet, applied some sunscreen, sat down on the towel, laid back and began to read.
