The bar was on the edge of the Mediterranean, a cheap concrete structure with a terrace overlooking the beach. There was a crude mural on the wall, painted in bright colors, featuring Neptune flinging a trident, flying mermaids, and a giant octopus. I had a good table in the shade. It wasn't a place for tourists...they mostly served red wine, so I had to pay extra for a cold bottle of beer. Who drinks red wine in that tropical heat? Italians.
There was stunning scenery. Deep blue sea, white sand beach, and pale orange bluffs. Against this backdrop the woman walked in, and her dress made a striking contrast against the riot of colors. It was a white cotton sundress, very thin, with faint pink stripes. I seemed to notice the dress before I looked at her. Maybe it was my subconscious warning me that just the sight of her would have strange consequences.
She was very tall and large, with wide, graceful hips that strained against the thin cotton. Her breasts were impressive, thrusting outwards agressively, fighting against that sundress. Though she was fair, her skin had that transluscent, sun kissed glow, with different shades of copper on her thick arms and shoulders, and just a hint of pink sunburn on her cheeks. Her hair was long, dark brown and braided.
She looked in my direction. I was sitting in the shade, but the sun was in her face. Still, she did not squint. She came right over and sat down without hesitating.
"You're an American," she said, not asking. She spoke perfect English, but I could not place her accent. The words were clear and clipped. Her voice was slightly hoarse, as though she were speaking deep in her throat. I once read that linguists claim the purest English speakers come from Inverness in Scotland. For some reason, I decided the accent was Scottish.
"How do you know that?" I asked.
"The way you look. The way you look at me. The way you sit. Americans are always the same. Like there's too much going on. Are you overwhelmed?"
"By you? No. Why would I be?"
"Because Americans always look confused," she said. I leaned forward. She seemed to be giving off warmth from across the table. There was a strong smell of jasmine around her.
"I'm not confused," I said. I asked to buy her a drink, but she refused. She just stared at me and smiled. The noonday light was setting her hair aglow. Where the sun's rays struck, the strands of her hair looked like warm caramel.
"I can see by that bag you have that you're alone. And you're on your way someplace. You're on your way, but you're a little...anxious?"
"Look. I'm confused by your approach, is all." She sat back in her chair, with one leg crossed over the other. There was a long ridge of hard muscle running along the front of her leg, yet her calf was sculpted and graceful. Her legs also seemed much more tanned than her upper body. They were hard and elegantly shaped, but thick as oak trees. She kept playing with the hem of her dress, sliding it back and forth over her knee. The jasmine smell increased, riding out on a wave of warmth that seemed to come from deep inside her.
"You're afraid and vulnerable," she said. "I can prove it to you. I know all about men like you. I've been looking, just for you."
I figured she was a nut. Probably a prostitute. I should have dismissed her, but I made the mistake of looking into her eyes. They were green, bright green, shimmering like emerald crystals. One brief glance, and I could not look away. She stared back without blinking. I tried to turn my head away, but couldn't.
"Afraid? ha. I just got out of the army. I'm used to everything. And what would I fear, huh? My last leave I spent hunting wild boar in the Austrian forests. With an M-1 rifle. Sound cowardly?"
"See, I can tell you're afraid," she said sweetly. She had small, even white teeth, and ran the tip of her pink tongue against them. She was so colorful. "I can either take your fear away, or make it much, much worse."
"What are you talking about?" I asked. "I"m not afraid of any girl."
"Girl? Hmmm...." She tossed he thick braids back over her shoulders. Now I was getting slightly annoyed by her arrogance.
She reached over and stroked my arm gently, then stood up. I stood too, and found she was almost as big as me, just about six feet tall, which would make her very tall for a woman.
"If you are afraid, you can follow me," she said. "If you THINK you are not afraid...and want to prove it to me, or to yourself...you can follow me too."
I had no choice but to follow. I had to see those green eyes again. So compelling was the erotic power of her eyes, I wasn't as fascinated by her wide swaying hips and bulging ass as I might have been. Still, I walked behind her out of the bar and down to the sand. She walked fast, and I had to hurry to keep up. For a woman so large, she had extreme energy. I almost had to sprint to be beside her, to maneuver to find her gaze again.
She stopped at her blanket, spread out over the white sand. I kept watching, out of the corner of my eye, for her gang to show up and rob me. But there was no one nearby.
She stood in front of me, and with one quick motion, slid her sundress off. It was a thrill to see her disrobe so easily, and it fell lightly at her feet. She was wearing a one piece white swimsuit, pure, blinding white. Now her breasts seemed so much larger, tanned round melons beckoning to me. I fought to keep my hands at my side.
She bent to slip her sandals off. With all her size and strength, her feet were surprisingly small, with delicately painted toenails. I began to feel kind of insignificant next to such an amazon. My only swimwear consisted of ragged cutoff army fatigues.
"You can swim, can't you?" she asked. "I want to swim with you first. Come with me."
I'd had enough. I grabbed for her, trying to seize those arrogant breasts. She anticipated my move and stepped lightly back. She shook her head. She was a tease, alright. I felt an almost painful stirring between my legs.
She reached out and lightly brushed her fingers against mine. I thought she might take my hand and lead me, but instead she turned and again walked quickly ahead of me. I chased after her. We waded into the gentle surf.
Here the sea was as warm as a bath, and just off the shore there was a rocky shelf with a steep drop off. The colors quickly changed from a light aqua to a deeper turquoise. The mysterious woman kept striding until the waves formed a foaming crest just above her hips, then she turned toward me.
She lowered herself into the water, right up to her neck, then stood up again. The tips of her thick braids were wet and they shed drops of sea water which ran down over her shoulders and chest like glittering diamonds. She leaned forward, presenting me with her magnificent ripe breasts, teasing me with the secret of her deep cleavage, making me half crazed with desire.
"What's the matter, little American boy?" she ran her tongue over her teeth again, making the enamel glisten. "Are you getting nervous? Are you getting hard?"
