No Sanctuary (15 page)

She spotted Jerry near the middle of the pool, treading water, watching her. “I missed your dive,” he said.

“Too bad. It was a ten.”

“Let’s see you go off the board.”

“Thanks, anyway.”

“I’ll go first.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

He swam to the side and boosted himself up. His sodden shorts hung low. Gillian saw a pale band of skin where his tan stopped, the top of his buttocks. He tugged the shorts up as he walked toward the diving board. Pausing at the end of the board, he rubbed his hands together. “I’ll now perform my world famous triple somersault.”

He bounced on the board, springing higher and higher, his firm body shining in the sunlight. Suddenly, he tucked and hugged his knees. Gillian winced as his head barely missed the tip of the board. Midway through the first somersault, his back slammed the surface. A geyser of white water exploded.

He came up grinning foolishly, and Gillian clapped. “Bravo!” she called.

“Do I get a ten?”

“I’ll give you a three on the grounds that you survived at all.”

“Okay. Let’s see how an expert does it.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on. I’m you can do better than me.”

“I’m not much into diving.”

“You’re too modest.”

That’s about right, she thought.

Jerry side-stroked to the opposite side of the pool. Facing Gillian, he boosted himself up and sat on the edge. He grinned and wiped the water from his eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. One dive will get you a steak dinner tonight. Barbecued by the master chef, me. How about it?”

“Shameless bribery,” Gillian said.

“Naturally, the offer includes cocktails and hors d’oeuvres.”

“What about dessert?”

“Ice-cream, followed by after-dinner drinks.”

“And all I have to do is one dive off the board?”

“That’s all.”

“How come you’re so eager for me to go off the board?”

“So I can get a good look at you,” he said.

His smile vanished. “And so you can stop being nervous about your bikini.”

“You noticed, huh?”

“Yep. You came over here in a shirt. That was my first clue. Then you kept it on.”

“I don’t usually parade around in something like this.”

“But remember, I’ve already seen you in it.”

“You took me by surprise.”

“Nevertheless, the damage is done. I’ve seen what there is to see.”

Gillian grimaced.

“I think we’ll both enjoy ourselves a lot more once you get over the self-consciousness. You can stop worrying about what I might see, and I can stop worrying about trying to see what you’re hiding.”

“Makes sense,” she muttered. She rolled her eyes upward and sighed. She wished she had left the shirt back at the house. Drawing attention to her timidity had turned out to be even more embarrassing than if she had simply shown herself from the start. “I feel like an idiot,” she said.

“Don’t. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. If I were in your place, I would’ve been reluctant, myself, about going over to a stranger’s pool in an outfit that exposed every intimate detail of my anatomy.”

The remark stunned Gillian for an instant. Then, bursting into laughter, she cried out, “You bastard!”

He rocked, clutching his knees and grinning, delighted.

Gillian whirled around, still laughing, and thrust herself out of the pool. She strode toward the far end, scowling over her shoulder at him. “Every intimate detail, my ass!”

“That’s included!” he called. He wasn’t laughing anymore. His smile was slipping. He stared at her.

Gillian looked away from him.

It’s all right, she told herself. Plenty of women wear as little as this to the beach. Why should it bother me?

Her wet feet slapped the concrete. Water trickled down her body. The cling of the bikini kept her terribly aware of how little there was of it. Her breasts, though firm and not very large, jiggled and swayed as if they were bare. Without looking down, she knew that her nipples were erect and that the fabric of the bikini was too flimsy to hide the fact.

At the end of the pool, she turned toward the diving board. Jerry was still sitting with his legs in the water. He was gazing straight ahead.

He’s not even looking at me!

Gillian felt a mixture of relief and annoyance.

She stepped onto the diving board. Jerry kept staring into space.

She walked to the end of the board. It was springy under her feet. She stood straight, toes curled over the edge, and waited for the board to stop moving.

What’s with this guy? she wondered. He bribes me to climb out of the pool so he can get a good look at me, and then it’s like I’m not even here.

“Yoo-hoo,” she called.

His head turned. “Oh,” he said, as if mildly surprised to see her.

“Welcome back.”

“Guess I was daydreaming for a second there.”

“Gee, thanks. I thought you couldn’t wait to ogle my marvelous, semi-nude body.”

His eyes slowly roamed down Gillian. “And a fine body it is,” he said. “Now, let’s see if you can top my dive.”

“That’d be tough,” she said. What do you want? she asked herself. Do you want him to gape and pant in awe? Lick his lips? Drool? The bastard could show a tiny bit more interest.

Maybe he’s gay.

Wouldn’t that be a joke?

With a sigh, Gillian hopped. Her feet hit the board. She leaped as it flung her up. Soaring over the pool, she arched toward the sky, bent quickly at the waist and touched her toes, then straightened her body and knifed down into the water. When her fingertips brushed the bottom, she pushed herself away and glided to the surface.

Jerry held up both hands with their fingers spread. “Definitely a ten,” he said. “I had no idea I was in the presence of a champion.”

“I.think it was a seven,” Gillian told him. “But thanks.”

“I knew you looked familiar. I saw you in the Olympics.” Zit

“I’m not that good,” she said.

“Could’ve fooled me. And you claimed you weren’t into diving.”

“It was an easy one.”

“Well, don’t stop now. Let’s see another.”

“Okay, one more.” She boosted herself of the pool. “Don’t expect anything spectacular,” she cautioned him. “I’m a little rusty.”

She was standing at the end of the board before she realized that she had forgotten to be self-conscious about her bikini. Jerry was watching her. He had an eager look on his face.

What the hell, she thought. He thinks I’m a great diver.

She bounced high, tucked, somersaulted, and went in straight and clean.

Jerry was clapping when she came up. “An artist!” he proclaimed. “A virtuoso. You could win trophies for that kind of performance.”

“I’ve got a few,” Gillian admitted, treading water just in front of his submerged feet.

“I don’t doubt it. Let’s see another one.”

“I think two’s enough,” she said. “I don’t want to press my luck. Next time, I might belly-flop and embarrass myself.”

“Just one more?” he asked.

What’s the point of refusing? she thought. He really wants to see me dive again, and I’ve got no good reason to disappoint him. “Okay,” she said. “One more, and that’s it. For now, anyway.”

“Terrific.”

Instead of crossing the pool to climb out where she had before, she swam to Jerry’s side. He watched as she placed her hands on the edge next to him and thrust herself up. Gillian stayed there for a moment, braced with stiff arms. She saw him glance at her breasts, then look into her eyes. “I’ll do a really hard one this time,” she said. “My grand finale.”

Jerry made a thumbs-up sign.

Gillian swung her leg up, climbed from the pool, and hurried to the diving board. She walked out to the end of it, stood motionless until the board stopped shaking, then did an about-face.

Her back to the pool, she stood erect with her arms at her sides. She jumped, bounded straight up, came down again and bounced higher. On the third leap, she shot herself away from the board, did a quick somersault and snapped rigid, coming down fast with the board at her back and her arms stretched toward the water.

She had an instant of stabbing fear when she realized she had come out of the tuck too late.

Her head missed the end of the board. So did her upper back. It caught her just above the buttocks. She gritted her teeth as the board pounded her, scraped her and knocked her forward. She glimpsed her bare legs kicking against the pale sky. Then the water blurred her view.

She blew out air through her nose. Plunging toward the bottom of the pool, she wondered how badly she was hurt. She clawed at the water.

Then she felt a hand on her back. The hand found her arm and pulled her. She reached out and grabbed the side of the pool. Jerry was beside her.

His face looked pale. “My God,” he gasped, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. Her heart was slamming with fear and her throat felt clamped tight. Tears filled her eyes. She crossed her arms on the tiles, and rested her face on them. Jerry’s hand gently rubbed her back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have made you do it.”

“It’s what I get ... for showing off.”

“Damn, I bet that hurt.”

“I feel... like I got... kicked by a mule.”

“You ever been kicked by a mule?”

“Don’t be a wiseguy.” She managed to swallow. She took a deep breath. She wiped a wet forearm across her eyes, then reached down and carefully fingered a raw area near the top of her right buttock. She could feel loose edges of skin that had been peeled down. Her left buttock was in better shape. It felt battered and slightly scuffed, but not flayed.

Suddenly alarmed, Gillian reached lower. Her bikini pants.

“Oh shit,” she muttered.

“What?”

“I lost something.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Easy for you to say,” she told Jerry. She thought she was done crying, but her voice broke and her eyes flooded. “Damn it!” she gasped.

“I’ll find them for you.”

Jerry was no longer beside her. She wiped her eyes and turned around. He was far below the surface, kicking his way toward the bottom of the pool.

Gillian pushed away from the edge. She swam toward the shallow end, then stood. She was shoulder-deep. She peered down. The water blurred the view, but not enough.

Jerry was swimming toward her, well below the surface, the white rag of her bikini pants fluttering in his grip.

She drove her hands down quickly to cover herself.

Jerry veered off. So he has his eyes open under there, Gillian thought. Wonderful.

He swam toward the left, moved past her, and stood up. He lifted her pants out of the water. “Here you go.”

He looked into her eyes. He didn’t look down.

Gillian uncovered herself. She took the garment from him. The cords on both sides dangled, torn loose from the seat. “It’s ruined,” she muttered.

“You can’t put it on?”

She shook her head. She sighed. She felt as if she might burst into tears again.

“I’ll get you something to wear,” Jerry said. He turned away, waded to the side of the pool, climbed out, and hurried across the sundeck to the rear of his house.

While he was gone, Gillian moved to the pool wall. She pressed herself to it, feeling the slick tile against her belly and hips and pubic mound and thighs.

The initial pain had been replaced by a dull ache. Even the skinned areas no longer hurt much.

What hurt was the humiliation.

It wasn’t much different from the time, a few years ago, when she got plastered at a party and barfed on the floor in front of everyone.

That was worse, she decided. This time, at least, it was an accident. It wasn’t exactly my fault.

If I hadn’t been showing off...

Jerry came out of the house with a blue terri-cloth robe. “This should do the trick,” he said. He dropped it onto the pool deck in front of her, then turned away.

Gillian climbed out, hoping he wouldn’t take advantage of the opportunity to look at her. She put on the bulky robe, and belted it shut. “Okay,” she said.

He faced her. He was frowning. “Better?” he asked.

Gillian nodded. “Thanks.”

“You really caught it.”

“Yeah. I noticed. Thanks for pulling me out.”

“Do you think you need a doctor? I could drive you to an emergency room.”

“No, it’s not that bad. I’ll have an ugly ass for a couple of weeks, that’s all.”

Jerry smiled a little sadly. “It’s a shame for something that gorgeous to get banged up.”

Heat rushed to Gillian’s face. “I’d better get going,” she muttered. Stepping over to the table, she slipped into her sandals and picked up the shirt she had worn as a cover-up.

“You’ll come back for the barbecue, won’t you?”

“I don’t know, Jerry.”

“You earned it. The hard way.”

“I don’t know. This is all ... pretty embarrassing.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be.” He lowered his voice. “Look, the invitation stands. I’d really like you to come over. But I’ll understand, if you’d rather not.”

“If I do come, are you going to make me dive?”

He looked up at her. “Certainly. If you won’t dive, forget it. Stay home and starve.”

“What time do the festivities start?”

“Say five?”

Gillian nodded. “We’ll see. I’ll bring you back your robe, anyway.”

He walked with her to the gate, and opened it. “I’m awfully sorry you got hurt.”

“I’m awfully sorry I lost my pants.”

“I’m not.”

“Screw you, buster.”

He patted her gently on the arm. She stepped through the gate and walked down his driveway, trying hard not to limp.

“I think we should push on,” Bert said. “It’s still early, and Dead Mule Pass is only two miles.”

“Two miles straight up,” Andrea pointed out. “I don’t know why we want to push it. This looks like a perfectly good place to spend the night.”

Rick thought so, too. The lake was surrounded by trees, and the shady place where they’d stopped was close to the shore and had a rushing stream nearby. There were flat areas where they could pitch their tents, a ring of stones for a campfire, and sawn-off logs for seats.

Nobody was using the seats. All four had dropped to the ground and were resting against their packs.