“Hey” you murmur in reply, knowing his sound to be warm and kind.

“Do you know where you are?” he asks, slowly, gently, secure and certain.

“No” you sigh, your voice barely perceptible beyond the rippling water that laps around you.

“You’re on my island” he soothes, reassuring and confident.

“Hmmm…” you reason, accepting, comfortable… 

“How did I get here?” you ask, gently, slowly, innocently, only mildly inquisitively, deeply immersed in the sensations of heat and cool shade, dancing light, colors, warm water and sensual sounds.

“On my yacht…” he soothes, his tone kind, careful, and clearly sensitive to the depth of your meditation.

“Oh…” you say, nonchalant, and satisfied.

“I have dinner ready…” he says, inviting, “c’mon…”

“uh-ha…” you sigh, floating carelessly and carefree.

Undisturbed you feel his arms slide beneath your shoulders and thighs as he lifts you free from the water and carefully turns, stepping up into shallower waters, before gently laying you down on an open soft, white towel-robe, covering a sun-lounger and set afloat on a tiny raft.

Your eyes peel partially open and squint against the sunlight, momentarily glimpsing the outline of the man’s kind and handsome face, his melting hazel-chocolate eyes convey a deep, intimate knowing of you, your body, your secrets, and your soul.

Your green eyes reflect the ocean, knowingly they survey the cartography of his broad shoulders, following his uncharted outline, as slowly he turns away and wades out toward a small row boat, leaving you to pull the soft, plush toweling-gown around you.

You can just make out the man’s sunlit gold-silver silhouette as his musculature strains to climb up into the row boat, and then you see him lifting an oar and begin to work at the water. 

There’s a simple rope-line, turning taught, it serves to tether your tiny leisure raft behind, and you relax, regal, as his effort pitches through the oars in his hands and gradually he pulls you toward his yacht, a sleek vessel, perfectly formed and anchored a little ways away.

You relax back into the clean, white and warm, dry toweling robe, pulling the comfort around you, your oiled bronze body, supple, tanned and toned, noticing all contact with the white sands have washed away. And closing your eyes you breathe deeply and slowly.

Breathing in deeply, you again smell the weight of a seemingly endless green blue sea, the heavy scent of exotic salt and spice carried inward on a dry cool breeze.

Fondly, you imagine the majesty of many mermaids, their fragrance mingling with the night air from a dark Arabian desert, a zephyr stroking the seductive surface and finding you, whispering exotic secrets of precious stones, spices and lavish riches, of wild men, strong and sure, who would kill or die, else trade their souls to be as welcome with you as the wind in your hair.

The golden, chrome-yellow, Mediterranean sunlight, continues to bathe and bless your beauty with a wanting warmth, and as you gradually open your eyes you see his yacht now beckons for you to board.

Sweet dreams fox, sleep well…