Under the Pale Moonlight
"Come have a walk with me," he requested, offering his hand.
"Richard, you know I don't like being in that smoke cloud of your cigars," she protested.
"I wasn't going to have a cigar," he countered.
"But you always have a cigar after dinner. We eat and have a drink with dessert and you escort me to the elevator and I go up to the room and you go have your cigar and you join me in the room when you're finished," she recited.
He sighed, trying not to roll his eyes. Yes, Emily had eloquently summarized the routine they'd established on this trip. But he had something else in mind for tonight. After all, they only had two nights left in Barbados. And the last night of a trip, Richard knew from experience, left his wife a bit too frazzled to enjoy herself, worrying about all the arrangements and the packing and such. No, this was the last proper night of their vacation, and he'd not waste it.
"Regardless of what we've done previously, Emily, I would like to do something a little different. If you prefer to go straight back up to the room, I'll not stop you. But I would very much like it if you'd join me for a walk," he said.
Emily eyed him curiously. She knew when he had something up his sleeve. Richard had a way about him when he had a plan of some sort. They had been married for a year and three days, now, having taken this trip to celebrate their first anniversary, and Richard had showered her with affection and lavish gifts and everything she could ever possibly want. And she was sure that whatever he had planned tonight would certainly be in the same vein. "Alright," she answered finally.
She took his hand and stood up from the table. Richard wrapped her fingers around his arm and led her out of the restaurant, though the enclosed portico, and out onto the beach. There was a stone path they stayed on for a while.
"Come on, let's walk in the sand," he suggested.
"Richard, my shoes! And your shoes! We aren't dressed for the beach," Emily pointed out.
"Then we shall take off our shoes and walk barefoot. I'll carry everything for us."
Emily did not like the sound of that at all, but she indulged him anyway. "Oh alright," she sighed.
Richard knelt down to take off each of his shoes and socks, stuffing the latter into the former. He also gently took each of Emily's feet out of her shoes and picked up the pretty pink pumps. His hand lingered on her ankle, daring to trail his fingers up her calf. "No stockings," he noted softly.
She shivered at his touch. "I didn't think anyone would notice. And we are in a tropical climate," she explained. Was her breath catching? Why couldn't she seem to give her voice any volume.
Then, as quickly as he'd begun, Richard stood up again. He put his own shoes under his arm and held Emily's in one hand. With the other, he laced his fingers with hers. "Let's walk on the beach."
Emily let him lead her out closer to the water. The cuff of his pants was going to be covered in sand, but if he didn't mind, she wouldn't nag him. Not right now, anyway. As it was, the breeze was more prevalent out here, and the skirt of her dress blew around her legs.
"That's a very pretty dress," he noted as they walked further and further away from the lights of their hotel.
"Thank you," she replied. "I never feel quite right in pink, I think it clashes with my hair. But tropical prints like this always come in pink. Pink and green. I hope I haven't embarrassed you, walking around like a giant auburn-haired watermelon."
Richard laughed delightedly. Oh how he adored her sense of humor. Few women he'd ever encountered had a sense of humor that actually made him laugh. The smarter ones might understand his jokes and laugh, but very few made witty quips of their own. Emily's dry sarcasm was a never-ending delight.
"It isn't nice to laugh at your wife," she pouted.
He stopped his laughter immediately and stopped walking as well. He turned to face her and took his hand from hers so he could reach out and cup her cheek. "I'd never laugh at you, Emily. But you know I find your wit endlessly endearing."
Emily looked up at him with shining eyes full of her love for him. And she did love him. She loved him for all he was and all he gave her. But more than anything, she loved him for how he loved her. All her life, she'd been told that men don't like women with so many opinions, that she would have to learn to keep her mouth shut if she ever wanted to find a husband, that she should be demure and charming and nothing more to find a man. Richard disproved each and every one of those old adages; he respected her opinion and freely asked her for it, he enjoyed her humor and her cutting remarks, and he was constantly impressed and proud of her take-charge abilities. And as she stood on the beach, reminded of all this about her husband, Emily smiled and told him, "I love you, Richard."
He smiled down at her, stroking her sharp cheekbone. "I love you, too, Emily. And I'm glad every day that I married you."
"Me too."
Richard leaned in to kiss her gently. He did not give her time to react much or to throw her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. No, instead he pulled back and whispered, "I've got a surprise for us."
"Oh?"
"Follow me. I noticed this when we were out on that boat yesterday. Gave me an idea."
Emily struggled to keep up as his long legs strode quickly and purposefully through the sand. "Where are we going?" she called out.
"Just around here," he replied.
And around a large rock, they came across a small cavern with a deep but peaceful little pool. The surf did not reach all the way inside, though perhaps at a higher tide it might. The waves lazily crashed and drifted back. It was quiet and secluded. And there was no one else around.
"I thought a moonlit swim might be nice."
"I don't have my bathing suit," she replied, not realizing what he was saying.
Richard grinned, putting their shoes down at the far end of the cavern and taking off his jacket. "Neither do I." He began undoing the buttons of his shirt.
Emily's jaw dropped as she realized what he was suggesting. "Richard!"
He laughed merrily. "Oh come on, Emily, a little skinny dipping never hurt anyone."
She watched as his strong torso was bared to her. And she knew she wouldn't be able to resist him. "This is like that month you spent as a nudist at Yale, isn't it?" she grumbled, reaching behind her for the zip to her dress.
"Here, let me," he offered. His belt was unbuckled, but he crossed over to stand behind her and unzip her dress. As the fabric parted, he pushed it off her shoulders and leaned in to kiss the nape of her neck. His hands traced down the curve of her waist and hips over the think fabric of her slip.
Emily shivered at his touch. Or perhaps it was just the cool ocean breeze. But before she knew it, she'd folded her dress and placed it on top of Richard's pile of clothes. His pants and boxers were tossed at her to fold, and she completed the pile with her slip and various undergarments.
When she turned back, entirely naked and trying to cover herself, she found Richard standing tall and proud with his hands on his hips, just as naked as she. Emily bit her lip to keep from laughing. Not that he looked funny—he looked extremely impressive, actually, with his physique and various attributes—but the whole situation was just ridiculous!
"Oh come on, no need to hide," he said, coming toward her again. He took her hands from her chest and below her belly, kissing her fingertips. "I want to see how the moonlight shines on your skin," he whispered.
"I thought you wanted to go skinny dipping?" she teased.
He smiled. "I can do both," he said softly, leaning down to gently kiss the tip of her nose. "Let's go."
Emily let Richard take her hand and lead her into the water. It was much warmer than she expected, and it felt wonderful against her skin. They both paddled around in little circles. Richard did not mind getting his whole head wet, so he dove down and swam around her, grabbing her feet and legs under the water, making her shriek and laugh at his playfulness.
When he was finally done with that, he went to a shallow part where he could stand, beckoning Emily to join him. She floated evenly with him, not able to stand at that depth. She put her arms around his neck. His hands found her hips and encouraged her to wrap her legs around his waist. They did not say a word as their lips met and their kiss soon turned much more passionate.
Richard swallowed every little moan she made as his hands tightened their grip on her and his tongue surged into her mouth. He could not resist a thing about her, certainly not when she made those sounds. Without thinking about it, he carried her with him to shallower ground.
The pair tumbled onto the sand with those lazy waves going to and fro over their bodies. Finally, Emily had to pull away. "Richard," she panted, "we can't do this here."
"Yes we can," he disagreed. "Like Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster."
Emily adored From Here To Eternity, but she'd never actually had any desire to recreate that famous scene on the beach. But since she and Richard were already here, already halfway towards that goal, she gave up her protests. She rolled over onto her back and spread her legs, grabbing his hip to encourage him.
When Emily finally caught her breath, she found herself curled up in the sand, soaking wet and covered in who knows what, with Richard's strong arms holding her protectively. As her heartrate went back to normal, she was starting to get a little cold. "We should get dressed," she suggested, noticing how hoarse her voice was.
Richard just hummed in agreement. He'd not regained the power of speech yet. But Emily recovered much quicker. She kissed him softly and extricated herself from his arms. Hopefully the breeze would dry her off soon enough and she could put her clothes back on.
Her clothes…where were her clothes? "Richard!" she cried.
"Hmm?" His eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly in response to her obvious distress.
"Richard, our clothes!"
It took a moment for him to see what she was so upset about. The neatly folded pile of their clothes had blown away in the wind. His shirt and pants were there, but Emily's dress had ended up in the pool, and all her undergarments were covered in sand. His underwear was nowhere to be found.
"This is all your fault! I can't believe I listened to you!" she lamented, trying to figure out what to do.
By this point, Richard had gotten up and joined her in the search for a solution. The situation was certainly not ideal, but not the most dire thing. And he refused to have the evening be ruined. "Did you enjoy yourself up to that point?" he asked.
She whipped her wet hair around to turn to him sharply. She opened her mouth to yell at him again, but something stopped her. She saw that look on his face, that sweet, besotted look. And her heart softened towards him, even in spite of their circumstances. "You know I did," she muttered.
"Well sometimes I man can't be too certain. You know I like to do what I can for you," he said with a cheeky grin.
Emily huffed slightly, more annoyed with the fact that she wasn't annoyed, more than anything else. "I'm not going to stroke your ego."
"Actually you didn't stroke my ego at all today."
"Richard!"
He laughed again. "Alright, Emily." He hugged her around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "Let's get dressed before anything else blows away. You wear my shirt and jacket. Those should be long enough to cover you. I'm alright in just my pants to get back to the hotel. The rest of the wet and sandy things we can carry."
"What will people say!?" Emily asked, scandalized at the idea of wearing her husband's shirt and him being bare-chested as they walked through the hotel lobby.
"It's far too late for anyone to be milling about. The only people who will see us are the hotel staff, and I'm sure they've seen worse over the years," he pointed out.
Emily did not want to forgive him so quickly for this, but she did not see much choice. Because he was right, she had very much enjoyed herself. It wasn't often she did anything so reckless, and Richard had a way of bringing that out in her. And she did love him for it. "Fine," she conceded. "But as soon as we get up to the hotel, you and I are taking a bath."
"Together?" he asked excitedly.
"Yes. What they didn't show in From Here To Eternity was Burt Lancaster washing all the sand out of Deborah Kerr's hair."
He chuckled happily. "Anything you say, Deborah."
"You're damn right, Burt."
They gathered their clothes as best they could and made themselves as presentable as possible and headed back to the hotel. They held hands the whole way.