The Fantasy in the Ocean
She’s standing ankle deep in the ocean, dress balled up above her knees so as to keep it dry. My eyes slide up her bare leg until they reach her hand clenching the sky-blue dress. I imagine I can see the curve of her ass hidden by the fabric. As her hair blows carefree in the ocean breeze I try and remember her name but I never can.
I can hear my children playing on the beach behind me. The sound comes like a distant television turned too low to make out the dialog.
It’s many years ago. Exactly how many I don’t wish to recall. I’m walking along the beach with the beautiful woman. I can never decide if I’ve forgotten her name or she never told me. She never asked my name and was disinterested when I offered it to her.
All she wanted was to play.
She was a dream. The kind of woman that a fifteen year old boy fantasizes encountering, but I actually met her. I interacted with her. She made it clear in our brief time together that I could have her.
I could have, if I hadn’t walked away.
I did it for my wife. She wasn’t my wife then, we weren’t even engaged, but we were dating and I’ve always prided myself on being an honorable man. So I walked away. I politely said goodbye and strolled away from the fantasy and back to reality. When walking away from something unbelievable it’s best to not look back, so I can not say what her reaction was. I did the honorable thing, which may not necessarily have been the smart thing.
I left the beautiful woman on the beach, but I could never leave the fantasy behind. She taunts me every time I come to the ocean, a lake, or even a large pond. I see her wading in the shallows, her dress bunched up in her hands, hair blowing carefree in the ocean breeze.
My oldest son breaks from my wife’s control and makes for the ocean. I open my mouth to tell him to stop but he’s already reached the water. The woman is gone, replaced by the joyful screams of a preschooler splashing in the ocean. My wife scolds him for not changing into his swim trunks before getting in the water. She gives me an exhausted smile and I respond with a tired smile of my own.
I glance down the beach and there she is again, dress bunched up over her knees, tempting me with the promise of untamed pleasures just beyond a thin veil of fabric.
I fear that one day I’ll give in to her desires.