Sea Siren
She exudes a natural grace in the water.
Long, beautiful limbs navigate the waves with ease, always certain. The clearness of the water makes viewing her, even from this distance, a casual effort.
All manner of clothing sit at his boots and they will remain in his safekeeping until she requires them.
She swims, clad only in what she refers to as a "bathing suit."
The shortened crimson corset sits just below her breasts, offering a wondrously decadent view of bare shoulders, collar and neck. Her hair flows behind her like ribbons, losing all curl with its dampness.
Where the clothing above her waist met with his admiration, the bottoms were another story. Even he, a long-ago admirer of fine women, had felt shocked by what completed her swimming costume. She had laughed heartily at his schoolboy blush, tempering her humor and his pride with a kiss.
A lengthy explanation had followed. Apparently, what she wore was quite modest in comparison to what other women wore.
Seeing a flash of red in the waves below, he finds a new appreciation for her swimming suit. And another, more powerful emotion takes the place of his surprise.
Her lean, powerful arms, so comfortable wielding a pistol or sword, now fight against the currents and ebbing tides. Lengthy strokes take her away from him before she executes a perfect reversal, returning again.
She grasps the wooden edge, heaving herself out of the ocean's depths. Moisture drips from her skin and the dock laps it up eagerly. Her smile is as brilliant as the sun reflecting off the water.
He offers hand and hook to aid her ascent. "So," he fingers a wet strand clinging to her neck. "You've returned to me at last sea siren."
Her chin raises, eyes alight with teasing. "I have and always will my Captain."