It took a long time for the figures on the beach to grow smaller and smaller and then disappear. It was as though the ocean itself was rising up to swallow them and the island they stood on, till there was nothing left but blue all around us, everywhere you looked.

It was overwhelming. The utter flatness of it all was so striking it grabbed the eye and kept it there, even though there was nothing to focus on, and no landmark to indicate any distances. We ourselves were squashed flat into that landscape, flat along the horizon which was all consuming. The world was cut in two – pale blue on top and deep heavy blue on the bottom, and us in our little boat wedged in that endless vanishing point between them. It was hard to know how fast we were moving after a while. Or whether we were moving at all.

Once we had broken away from the frilled edge where the water met the beach, and cleared the waves, the ocean was surprisingly flat and smooth. Regular, low waves lapped against the canoe. I sat near the back, under the awning that was tied in place by Charlie’s hair, and Todd sat up front, his shirt off and draped over his head to shield him from the sun. He rowed like a machine. Literally, like a machine made of muscle and skin and whatever rolling energy underneath that allowed him to keep paddling so strongly and smoothly, one beat after another. I watched as the lattice of knotted muscles over his back tightened when he lifted the oar, squeezed on the opposite flank to lower it, and his entire trunk twisted strong and smooth to pull, bringing the whole boat forward on its watery track. Up came the oar again, and then again.

Out here, time seemed to flatten out as well, and the only indication that a few hours must have passed was the slow ascent of the sun. Though the rough fibers underneath me prickled right through my dress and grated at my skin, I found my own steady rhythm with my own lighter, smaller oar. Still, I was soon sweating and breathing deeply, watching his back closely and adjusting to his movements without a word – when we veered to the left I quickly double-paddled on the left side to correct us. Without turning around, he made his own efforts to keep our course straight as well. We were a machine together. A slow, fragile rowing machine powered by two slow, fragile bodies that had momentarily found a shared goal together and could move as one. And we were moving. Slowly, perhaps, but we were moving.

In, pull, lift, forward, in, pull, lift, forward, on and on went the simple cadence of wood on water, nearly meditative, till my mind found some art in it, and even though my arms were burning with exhaustion, I approached each new stroke with a fresh intent to master it.

It wasn’t that it was sexual. But it was something close to it. One man and one woman out on the wild ocean of life, sharing a boat and using nothing but their bodies to propel them to an uncertain future. I imagined myself telling this romantic anecdote to all the people we’d meet once we found land again. But that thought quickly evaporated and my attention was lost again on the muscular workings of his back.

Then he stopped. Lifting a dripping oar and crossing it over the top of the boat, he carefully swung himself around so he was facing me.

Had I forgotten how to talk? Or was I just in a new stage of my life altogether, where I had forgotten why anybody needed to talk in the first place?

“I think I’ll try rowing from the back for a while,” he said after some time. Skin sprinkled with a few days’ tan and the deep azure blue all around him, he looked like he belonged in a fancy commercial. We looked at one another for a moment. It was odd: though we both knew so little about the details of the other one’s life, it was as though the turmoil we had endured together acted like a kind of glue, creating a foregone intimacy that played out on a deeper, more primal level. What we had left in this world was so meagre, it felt unnecessary to have any boundaries between us. And so we looked at each other nakedly. No pretense. For now, no words either. It felt like our gaze was all that we needed or wanted to communicate. In this new paired down day, it felt easy to shed layers, to peel down attitudes until only the barest, most essential core remained. And I found that core in his eyes.

I wanted to share everything that was knocking around in my heart. I wanted to tell him that I was sorry for involving him in my messy, stupid life. That I didn’t want him to feel responsible. That he deserved better than to just be some ‘other man’ and that I hadn’t planned any of it. That I felt raw and exposed and defenseless, but that whatever it was worth, I felt good with him, and admired him, and wanted to let him know that it was all OK, even the parts that weren’t OK.

But I said nothing. We sat and silently exchanged looks. There was water, and boat, and body, and nothing else. Eventually, he cleared his throat started dragging his finger through the still water beneath.

“We should carry on again in a moment,” he said. “We need to cover as much distance as we possibly can. Are you hungry yet?”

And with that he opened up the verbal floodgates and we began speaking, and we spoke for hours afterwards, with as much rhythm as we had when we rowed together.

We nibbled on the frankly revolting little morsels Livvy had packed for us and chatted about …everything. About the training he was going to. About his mother and how he had helped her through not one but two separate bouts of cancer. About how him and his friend had this shrimp barbecue once, where he had seem the biggest shrimp of his life. We spoke about the color of the ocean, and how expensive the cruise had been, and wondered out loud if it really was a hurricane that had hit us, and if so, what name they had given it. Then the topic of Charlie came up.

“To be honest, I don’t really understand her. I don’t get what the relationship between you both is. I have to admit it all seemed strange, even from the first day. Is she an…?”

“An ex? Well, yes, in a way.”

I was surprised at how easy it was for him to talk now, when he had seemed so withdrawn on the island.

“The thing you have to understand about Charlie, is that she’s not nearly as tough as she looks. Really. Charlie is …a complicated person. And even though things looked pretty bad back there, she is in the end my friend, and I respect a lot of things about her. Not everything, but a lot.”

I laughed.

“That’s a long-winded way to answer a simple question.”

“Yeah I know. Put it this way: Charlie and I …not dated exactly, but we were together very briefly. It was a mistake on my part, but she never could let it go.”

“You mean you guys just slept together?” I said. A guy as hot as Todd would obviously have loads of casual relationship, so I didn’t know why I felt so disappointed just then.

“Well, actually, just the one time. There was a lot of alcohol. We were young and stupid, I don’t know. I guess I had a lot to prove back then.”

“Wait, a lot to prove? What do you mean?”

He took his time answering me now. We were back to rowing again, our voices at the right pitch to carry over the slapping of the oars into the water. But I swear I could see him thinking in the muscles of his back. It was easier to talk, when we weren’t face to face, but I could tell we were now on a sensitive topic.

“Well, before her, I was inexperienced,” he said carefully.

“You were sexually inexperienced?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You mean …you were a virgin?”

His muscles rolled and pulled.

“Uh, yeah. Exactly. I’m usually not one to be pressured into anything, you know? But she really wanted to, and I guess I thought it was time and…”

“So she got really attached, but you both broke up?”

“Well, there wasn’t a whole lot to break up. I was honest with her. But she was convinced, I don’t know, that this meant we were soul mates or something.”

We rowed on a few paces further.

“And all your girlfriends afterwards didn’t mind that she was always there?”

He laughed out loud.

“All my girlfriends?”

“Well …however many there were.”

“Well, there were exactly none.”

“Bullshit. You must have had girlfriends.”

“Nope.”

Silence.

“Well …why not? Clearly there must have been plenty of opportunity along the way, right?” Was he an unrepentant player after all? Some kind of immature commitment-phobe? Gay?

“Well, it’s hard to explain…” he said.

Here, without thinking, I reached out to gently graze the skin on his back with my fingertips to catch his attention. He spun around quickly.

“Let’s stop here, I’m getting hungry again,” I said.

While he balanced the oars, I pulled out some more shriveled brown mussels and laid them out on our makeshift leaf plate. They were surprisingly tasty.

“Well, try to explain. I’m listening,” I said and gave him an encouraging smile.

I watched as he rolled his neck and shoulders to crick out the tension, and opened and closed his broad hands which by now must have been getting tired and sore.

“It’s like this. I realized that sex was a much bigger deal than I had thought at the time. I didn’t appreciate how …attached I could get. You know, I’ve always been this tough guy, right? Always the one that keeps his head in emergencies, that fixes shit when it breaks. I always played the rough sports, and did hunting and shooting and all the rest. So I guess you could say I was the most surprised of anyone when I realized I was actually a big softie. Long story short, after Charlie and I ...did our thing, I realized what a mistake I’d made. That I really should have waited for someone who it would be special with, you know? I realize that sounds pretty lame.”

I chewed thoughtfully on the last remaining morsel and folded away our leaf.

“No. It doesn’t sound lame at all.”

“You have to understand, the culture in the military is very …well, they don’t exactly encourage you to get in touch with your emotions,” he laughed. “I guess I expected sex to be just another thing to master. Just something to tick off the list of achievements, to get it done and say you did it.”

“And then …it wasn’t like that?”

“No, not even close. It was …important. I don’t know if I’m making sense, you know I’ve never told anyone about this so it’s hard to put into words. But after Charlie I told myself that the next time it happened, I would make sure I did it properly.”

I caught his eye.

“Wait, you’re saying you haven’t been with anyone since her?”

He colored a deep red.

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong, I’m just …surprised,” I said quickly.

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem. I just look like a big stupid meathead, but I’m not really,” he laughed awkwardly.

I shook my head.

“I would never have guessed, honestly. But thank you anyway for sharing that with me.”

Again our eyes met. In some ways, talking like this felt more intimate than the secret kisses we’d stolen in the days before. I almost felt embarrassed now even thinking about kissing him again, after so personal a revelation.

“What about you? So long as we’re floating out here in the middle of nowhere, sharing secrets, what are yours?” he asked.

It was going to happen. We were going to slowly ratchet up this conversation until one of us chickened out. I loved talking to him like this. Loved how this plain, blue, empty day felt like it might roll on forever.

“Well, honestly? It might shock you,” I said and raised a teasing eyebrow at him.

“Shock me? Uh oh, now I’m really curious.”

“You sure you want to know?”

He widened his eyes and smiled.

“Yeah, go on, tell me.”

“Well, I think we should,” I said.

“Should what?”

Here I caught his eye again. He understood. He looked away again, and I made out the bob in his throat as he swallowed.

“I think we should too,” he said. It was as though his words were lightning that struck me hard, and now every fiber in my being was singed with electricity.

“But I do wonder if it’s a good idea,” he said quietly, and looked away.

“You mean …you’re worried about Anthony,” I said, the disappointment hitting me hard.

“No …well, yes, obviously Anthony is an issue, but it’s more than that. Like I told you, I don’t take this kind of thing lightly. Sex matters to me, you know? I don’t want to feel like I felt that time before, not ever again.”

His outburst was so filled with passion I almost felt a pang of guilt for being so forward.

“Look, Todd, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“I want to,” he interrupted, “but I just said we have to be sure.”

It would have been prudent to start rowing again soon, but I suddenly couldn’t focus on that at all.

“I get it. Really, I do. My relationship with Anthony was over a long time ago, it just took a big stupid shipwreck for us to really see it. But it was a little like what you’re saying – realizing too late that something isn’t what you want, and now that you have a taste of it, you suddenly feel like you rushed into it, that it was a bigger deal than you anticipated. And as for this, as for us, well… no pressure. I want you to trust me.”

“No pressure,” he repeated, although I couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement.

“No pressure.” I said.

This, of course, made everything seem one thousand times more urgent.

“Will you kiss me?” I said. He shot a hard look at me. “No pressure of course,” I added, a playful smile on my lips.

I felt the boat rock slowly beneath us as he shifted his weight to me and touched tentative lips to mine, his ropey biceps glinting tanned and hard in the late morning sunshine.

We shared a kiss that was at first sweet, and quivering with nervousness, but soon melted into something deeper and more fervent. Even the slightest flick of his tongue sent massive shockwaves all through me, and in a hot moment my entire body was raw with wanting, a pulsing ache growing at my clit.

He pulled back to gaze at me, and we exchanged more of that delicious, easy openness with one another, that same direct and unguarded seeing that felt so natural out here, alone, without anybody to tell us what was right or wrong. I extended a trembling hand to rest on his crossed leg, and for a while we both were lost in how electric it felt for me to simply stroke him up and down, my hand cool against his warm skin.

I reached down to grab the hem of my ragged dress and, with some effort, pulled it up over my head and placed it carefully to the side. My bra and panties still had some sand embedded in the lace and smelt of saltwater, but that didn’t seem to matter much now. Though I had starved for three days, I still had that loose, feminine swell beneath my navel. My leg looked like a train smash. And my body was so pale and soft compared to his, so yielding and loose.

But so what? His eyes were glued to my body, and as I settled my weight again and let him look at me, I finally felt for the first time what people mean when they talk about loving their bodies. I still had stretchmarks. I was still a little plump and round. But out here, in this barren ocean wasteland, I felt like Venus herself, a goddess, even more beautiful than hundreds of cubic square feet of this featureless ocean.

“You’re lovely. Will you take those off, too?” he said quietly. “No pressure.”

His smile was so mischievous I couldn’t help but grin myself and blush deeply. My hands went to my back to unhook my bra and my breasts fell loose and full from the cups as I took the bra off and set it aside with the dress. I was about to suggest it was his turn but he was already working the button of his trousers and, with a little wobble of the boat, he stood, balancing artfully, and took his pants off. He was now completely nude.

“No underwear?” I said giggling.

“I am a military man, you know. Haven’t you heard of going commando?”

I tried hard not to stare at his crotch but eventually gave up. He didn’t seem to mind as I ogled him. He was well hung, and his cock was already half hard, bobbing in his lap as he adjusted his hips to sit cross legged in front of me again.

And why shouldn’t I look? Was I some prudish schoolgirl who’d never seen one before? Wasn’t it one of the most beautiful parts of him in any case? The perfect, most obvious proof of his manhood, something natural and wholesome and real?

It was my turn to stand and wobble, peel off my panties and wobble back down again. Our knees touched but nothing else. The fresh air slipping all over my naked body and between my legs felt so supremely liberating I couldn’t stop myself from smiling.

“Your body is amazing,” he said.

“So is yours.”

I extended my hands out to touch him, and his abdomen pulled sharply inwards. I caressed slowly and deliberately, introducing my hands to every inch of his taut, toned stomach and grazing down over the tops of his thighs. His cock rested to one side, thickening visibly as I touched, till it stood up stiff and dark between us. I leaned forward till our foreheads touched, and he looked down with tenderness as I continued to stroke him. I dragged my fingertips closer to the coiled black hair at the root, but his hand jumped to stop mine. He swallowed hard, looking conflicted.

I pulled my hand away again. I understood. I wasn’t going to push him.

I don’t know why, but something possessed me to lean back, as far back as I could till I was completely shaded under the frond roof, and then, with my heart pounding madly in my chest, I began to part my legs. I spread them wide, leaned onto the small of my back and then lifted each foot till it hooked on the outside edge of the boat, my toes just dipping into the cool water. I could only imagine the view this gave him. One hand went to gently cup one breast and the other snaked down to that aching spot between my legs. Here, I split myself wide too. I wasn’t surprised to find myself completely soaking. I dragged an exploratory middle finger down through that wet cleft and pressed to release the gorgeous tension pooling there. I was almost too scared to open my eyes and see what he made of all this.

He was still sitting, very upright, his cock pointing straight up, and the look on his face was a touching blend of awe and intense focus. His hand went to touch my ankle and as I stroked, he glued his gaze to my pussy, staring hard as I caressed that juicy spot till I shuddered. His hand never moved further up than my ankle. It rested just there, on that small bone, seemingly there just to make the connection. Without exchanging a word, he leaned back too, placed his other hand on his meaty cock, and began to stroke himself, matching my own indulgent pace.

The sun beat down on us and the waves whispered secretly all around, but they were just backdrop for the slow, syrupy swell of things inside the boat. It drove me wild to see his strong fist glide teasingly over the fat length of his cock. I watched in awe at the tender movements, the subtle flick of his wrist near the tip, loving that not only was he touching himself in exactly the way he needed, but that I got to witness it all.

My own hand gradually picked up pace, and I slipped lower and lower down, circling the pad of my finger round that shuddering, swollen opening. I had already imagined a thousand sordid scenes in my mind, all of them with that thick, full rod of his stuffed deep into me, stretching me apart. I only had to touch myself delicately to set all of those thousand scenes off, popping like a string of fireworks that, once ignited, exploded on their own, right through me. I couldn’t help it when my eyes fluttered closed. My nipples hardened against my teasing fingertips, linking with the swirling pleasure in my core and spreading that hot bliss all through my body. I heard my own breath pick up pace.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he groaned.

Our eyes easily locked again. This time our gaze was raw and intense, his eyes alone penetrating me enough that I felt that the tightly circling finger at my cunt may as well have been him. His hand remained gently on my ankle, and the other was pulling long, smooth strokes, his veined dick pulsing inside his fist.

Watching this beautiful man pleasuring himself was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. He was simultaneously too rough and yet gentle, stroking expertly, an ordinarily private moment unfolding before my eyes.

I had never done this before with anyone. Never shown this part of myself to anyone. But with him it felt easy. And the more I saw that I was turning him on, the more turned on I got, till we were essentially fucking without touching one another.

His jaw tightened and his eyebrows twitched as I saw him get closer. My eyes feasted on every part of him. His tightly crunched ab muscles. His broad, sun-covered shoulders. His cropped hair. I loved the way the head of his cock bounced and bulged in his hands, and how his balls seemed to pull in closer to him the more riled up he got.

I wanted to reach out and touch him. But then again, this game we were playing was its own strange kind of delicious, wasn’t it?

Instead of touching him, I touched myself, touched where I knew he was looking, stroked myself in those deep places I knew he wanted to fuck. And he teased me in return, his engorged pole on full display, my hunger for it enough to push me to the edge of my own orgasm. My fingers were slick now and my hips were twitching of their own accord.

“Tell me how that feels,” he said, all of a sudden. There was the sweetest, most erotic desperation on his voice. I loved that this was all new for him.

“It feels …it feels like if I make one sudden move, I’m going to explode,” I said, voice breathy.

He groaned.

“Keep talking,” he said and stroked, his mouth slackening as he watched my fingers work.

“It feels like an ache, like it almost hurts. Like nothing in the world could get it to stop hurting but to be filled up, to be fucked really hard…”

He licked his lips.

“I really want to see you come, Ellie,” he said, in that same voice that seemed only a notch or two away from a whimper.

“I really want to see you come.”

I could hear his breath snag and catch as he stroked himself harder, his eyes fixed to mine the whole time. I returned his gaze, two soaking fingers now slipping inside as I inched closer.

“Are you ready?” he whispered.

I nodded my head slowly.

I released, pressed my fingers deeper in and held on as the first wave of pleasure hit. I desperately tried to keep my eyes pinned to his as my grateful body tumbled into a long, hard, juicy orgasm that had my whole body jerking. He stared back, his whole expression twisted and washed over with pleasure as his strong body bucked and he came with me.

I looked to see one creamy glob burst from him after another, his chest heaving as he milked the tip to coax out every last drop of his cum. I couldn’t suppress my own moans and felt my body tighten and twitch round my fingers, a full, sweet ecstasy beating all through me. I looked over at the edge of the boat. His other hand was still there, resting gently on my ankle bone.

My head flopped back and I relaxed, my naked body now limp under the mottled shade of the fronds. It took me a moment to remember how to breathe. I stayed as I was, still relishing how naughty it felt to expose myself like this to him. I wanted him to see me twitch. To see my open, exhausted body. To see just how much he had turned me on.

“Ellie.”

I closed my eyes to the yellow sun and listened to my heart beating in my ears.

“Ellie, get up,” he said, this time more panicked. I peeked at him.

“What’s wrong?”

He was hastily pulling his trousers back on, dangerously rocking the boat.

“Put your clothes on. Now!”

I snapped to attention and did as he said, and just as I had slinked my bra straps on and begun to latch it closed, I saw him staring off into the distance behind me. I angled my head out of the shelter and slowly looked behind me.

It was a yacht.

And it was heading right for us.