Sara dragged a deep relaxing breath into her chest as she felt the crisp sea breeze crossover her bared chest. Her hardened nipples were pointed straight upward at the cloudless sky overhead and her entire body glistened with a combination of sweat and oil. Whatever tan lines she may have had when the trip began were long since faded and her entire body had an even tan now. The black shades she perpetually wore concealed her pretty brown eyes that occasionally opened to see who was ogling her. She didn't mind. Actually she only minded when nobody was checking her out. She'd spent the last several months working out to tone her body into its current Coke bottle form. Sara stood up and tossed pulling her glasses off with one hand. She tied her bikini top on and walked to the railing. The sun was still hours away, the only light was that of the full moon hanging low over the island. She could see the waves crashing over the sand, it was less than a hundred yards away. A good swim but nothing she couldn't handle.
She could have waited until morning and a boat would carrier to the island but patience was not one of Sara's many and varied virtues. It wasn't that far a swim anyway and besides this was probably the only real danger she'd get despite the thousand of waivers she'd been required to sign to Fantasies Inc. There was a brief moment when she considered not diving in, not being the first person to live out their dream on the mysterious island. Her consideration didn't stop her from placing one foot on the railing. After another brief moment of doubt flashed in her mind before she dove into the dark water.
The water was surprisingly warm almost like bathwater engulfing the young woman. Her lithe body glided easily through the water touching the sandy bottom before opening her eyes. The water was crystal clear, even in the near complete darkness she could see fish lazily swimming around her and the bright moon overhead. Bracing herself against the bottom Sara launched herself to surface and started swimming toward the shore.
It had been years since the last time she'd swam. It came naturally to her though, there was no fear of drowning but she hadn't even covered half the distance when her limbs started to tire. It started with a simple ache in her arms that forced her to slow her stroke. A moment later it was a burning in her thighs that had her looking back at the ship. I could go back to the boat. She thought treading water for a moment. It quickly dawned on her that she couldn't swim to the boat. It was the same distance from her to the boat as it was to the shore. More importantly though there was no way anybody would hear here shouting on the boat. She'd just float there until she drown, the only real option was go keep going.
Sara took a deep breath and started swimming again, this time remembering some of her training from lifeguard training. Lay on your back, elementary backstroke is the easiest stroke in the world. Breathe. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. It was still exhausting and every single muscle in her body screamed as her blood seemed to burn inside her. The fuck was I thinking? No answer came to mind as she continued toward the distant beach.
Breathe. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. She had to keep the rhythm going, it was the only thing keeping her going. She wasn't thinking about the pain, she wasn't thinking about how much farther it was. The battery acid coursing through her veins was an annoying detail. The only thing that was in her mind was a simple one, two rhythm. Breathe. Stroke. Breath. Stroke. I wonder how far it is?
That simple inquiry destroyed the rhythm. It didn't take much, her body was just looking for an opening to fail her and fail it did. Her legs stopped kicking for a moment sinking beneath the water dragging her head under. She was half beneath the water when she tried to breath inhaling a mouthful of salty water into her lungs fueling her panic.
AIR! It was the driving thought in her as she started thrashing her arms and legs frantically trying to get back to the surface. Her head broke the surface granting her a breath of air before a wave drove her back beneath the surface. Sara spun in the water for an moment and when she managed to stop herself she was lost. The moon had slipped over the horizon, or behind a cloud. Wherever it was she couldn't see it, or anything else. Weightless and blind in the water she wasn't sure which way was up.
Sara's lung burned and cried out for oxygen threatening to force her to breathe, something she couldn't do. She'd read enough on people drowning, how after a while without oxygen you pass out and your body will attempt to breathe. How your lungs flood with water and you die painfully. The waves continued pushing on Sara as she tried curling into a ball. If she remembered right it she would float up to the surface quickly.
Only she didn't. She stayed, it seemed in exactly the same place as the pain in her chest expanded slowly. Sara bit down on her lips trying to keep herself from breathing for a few more precious seconds when panic settled in firmly and she started thrashing in the water. Something soft and firm hit her feet, but she couldn't figure out what it was as she snapped upright.
Her head broke the surface of the water at exactly the same time that her mouth gaped open drawing in a breath of cool air. It wasn't water, she wasn't drowning. She was standing in chest deep water. A wave crashed over her head pushing her forward towards the beach. The water was supporting her weight, her legs were like mush beneath her struggling towards the shore. As soon as the water as the water fell past her knees she stumbled. The very next wave knocked her from her down to her knees.
Sputtering Sara crawled the rest of the way onto the beach before collapsing there. "Made it." She whispered spitting the wet sand out of her mouth. Her fingers dug into the soft sand as she tried to pull herself just a few feet farther up the beach. Sara literally dragged her body past the water line so the breaking waves only came up to her breasts rather than her face. She folded her arms beneath her head and let her eyes drift shut.
It seemed like she'd only just closed her eyes when she was violently wrenched awake. A fist was tangled in her hair pulling her face up out of the sand to stare into a pair of dark brown eyes.
The man who held her wasn't even as tall as she was. He was dark skinned and sinewy, like something you'd expect from National Geographic. His face and chest were completely covered with dark black tribal tattoos that formed no discernable pattern or picture and a bone pierced his septum. His tongue lazily played with the nose ring/bone as he screeched at her in some unintelligible language.
