Chapter 10
I'd heard that in the Scandinavian countries the people liked to go in for nude swimming-even in the icy waters of that area. Apparently, Christina was homesick for the custom. The pool was heated to the mild temperature required for an afternoon swim, but this was three in the morning and the air was cold.
So was I, thinking of it. But the sight of the girl had given me other thoughts, too. She was a large girl built like a brick Amazon. Her huge breasts jutted out in front of her like ripe melons swaying in unison as she walked with a purposeful stride toward the rear of the house. Fascinated by the sight, I watched her naked buttocks twitch down the length of the room and then disappear.
With her long platinum hair trailing behind her, she had been like a lovely naked ghost haunting the house during the early morning hours. But she wasn't a ghost, I was sure of that. She was very real, and fantastically three-dimensional. I wondered if she had that diamond-shaped birthmark on her body.
There was only one way to find out. I hurried along the same path she had taken, across the room, through the alcove. I paused at the door exiting to the patio and pushed it open slightly. A blast of cold air met me and I hesitated, shivering. Then I thought of Christina out there without any clothes on at all and of what I had to do, and I opened the door and slipped out.
She was standing at one edge of the pool, stuffing her platinum hair under the bathing cap on her head. The towel lay in a heap at her feet where she had dropped it. She didn't look back to see me, and I stood there for a moment watching her.
She finished buckling her bathing cap and took a deep breath which swelled her taut-skinned breasts to even greater proportions. Then she stood for a moment like a piece of sculpture and slowly ran her hands down over her thighs, up over the arching curve of her hip, across the flat stomach and up to her pendulous breasts.
Then quietly, expertly, she slipped into the water.
The gentle splash awakened me from my trance, and I walked over to the pool and stood by the edge. As I watched, she swam slowly out to the center of the pool, her white body clearly visible in the underwater lights.
I squatted beside the towel, and watched and waited. It was a pleasure to watch her in motion. She was obviously enjoying herself, and she was very graceful while she was doing it. She paddled around and then swam underwater to the bottom where she did a few slow-motion dance steps. She surfaced and came swimming back and didn't see me until she was holding onto the edge.
She said "Oh!" in surprise, but she was obviously not embarrassed by her nakedness.
"Mr. Sly, what are you doing up at this hour?"
"I was going to ask you the same question?"
"I'm swimming."
"I suspected that. But why?"
"Because I like to, of course. I used to do it all the time when I was back home."
"In the nude?"
"Of course. It's much more fun that way. I wear a bikini here because I have to, not because I want to. Come on in."
I had a feeling it would be much more fun in the nude. The water magnified her already immense proportions to a point that was unbelievable. Besides, I had a job to do, and now was a remarkably opportune time to handle it. Before I could talk myself out of it, I stripped off my pajamas and slid into the water beside her.
I almost gasped with the shock. "It's like an iceberg!" I complained.
She laughed. "You'll get used to it. But you should go all the way."
Without warning, she pushed my head under. I came back up spluttering, with a desire for revenge. I reached for her, but laughing she swam away, her white legs churning the water, her face daring me to catch her. I went after her.
She swam the length of the pool with me right behind her, then turned, saw me coming, and pushed herself down toward the bottom. I reached the opposite side, tensed my legs, and jackknifed them to follow her through the silent waters. She. skimmed along the concrete, and I went down on her like a Kamikaze and caught her in my arms.
She squirmed about to face me and I tightened the grip of my arms around her so she couldn't get away, and slowly we drifted back toward the surface of the pool.
There was no sound, and it seemed like we were the only two people in a private world of our own. The chase had been playful, but the capture was rapidly becoming more serious. The water had lost its coldness and seemed pleasantly warm. Or maybe it was because Christina's magnificent female body was molded tightly against me to keep me warm, her breasts mashed against my chest, our hips pressed together, our arms and legs entwined.
We surfaced, and without a word, but anxiously, hurriedly, we climbed onto the coping. She lay back, and I joined her. She opened her mouth to say something, but I placed my own mouth over hers, filled with a more important message, and we clung together, our actions and thoughts rapidly converging into the same plane.
For a long moment neither of us moved, and the world seemed to hang in silent stasis, and then slowly, deliberately my hands moved along her, and her breathing increased and she began to move her body. The tempo increased, like a stream rushing toward a waterfall, faster and faster, naked bodies tossing on white-caps of pleasure. Her teeth nipped at my shoulder, and she let out a deep animal moan. I held her tightly to me as we rushed accelerating toward the waterfall, reached its edge-I felt my muscles contract, and the girl let out her breath in a slow, soft sigh-and we relaxed and rolled over the edge of the coping into the pool!
The water closed over us, shutting out the subtle night sounds. The light shimmered around us as we descended slowly, locked in the sensual satisfaction of the aftermath. Our feet briefly touched the concrete bottom of the pool, and then tension gone, fires quenched, we drifted lazily to the surface again.
I climbed out and then grabbed her hand and helped her out. She sat down at the edge. I sat down beside her, exhausted but happy.
She looked at me admiringly. "You are an excellent swimmer," she said.
"Thanks," I said, grinning at her. "You know a couple of good strokes yourself."
"Back home I used to do this regularly, but here I have to do it in secret so Miss Rice doesn't know. She would be very angry with us if she knew."
"I'm not planning to tell her," I said.
Droplets of water were standing out on our bodies, and goosepimples were starting to form. The air seemed suddenly cold. I grabbed the towel.
"We'd better dry off," I said.
She closed her eyes and leaned back, murmuring an affirmative answer. I hesitated briefly, awed by the sight of all that woman, and then began working in earnest, toweling her briskly, starting with the neck and shoulders, working down around the responding breasts, across the stomach and along the legs. She purred softly with an animal contentment as I rubbed her all over until her skin glowed and I was satisfied that she was not Carol Rutledge.
"That was stimulating," she cooed when I finished.
"It certainly was," I agreed.
She laughed, seeing the truth of my statement. Then she took the towel from my hands and rubbed it over my body until I knew that I wasn't Carol Rutledge either.
"Do you do this often?" I asked her. "Swimming at night, I mean."
"One a week, maybe. I don't think Miss Rice would approve, so I sneak out here when everyone is sleeping."
"She's probably never been in a bathing suit in her life," I said.
"She never does go in swimming," Christina admitted.
I could see why, with all the pulchritude she'd have as competition. "How about the other girls? Carmen, for example, or Mary Ellen, or Joanne?"
If she wondered why I happened to pick those three, her face didn't show it. She shook her platinum tresses.
"No," she said. "Janet wanted to swim nude with me, and I let her-once. Swimming wasn't what she had in mind, though."
"I've got a confession to make," I said. "It wasn't really what I had in mind, either."
She laughed. "I did enjoy our-er-swim together, though. I hope we can do it again."
"I hope so, too, Christina," I said sincerely.
I wasn't much of an outdoorsman, but I did want to brush up on my breast stroke.
"We'd better go in," she suggested. "I wouldn't want anyone to see us out here. If Miss Rice found out-"
I'd lose a job, I thought, just when I was getting close to finding the girl I had to find. I put on my pajamas, and Christina and I quietly returned to the house. We parted company at the foot of the stairs, where she leaned into me and gave me a kiss full on the lips. Then she whispered a "goodnight" and stealthily made her way up the stairs.
For a moment I stood watching her ascend. The shifting of those huge though well-proportioned buttocks was a marvelously graceful sight. Then I returned to my room and climbed into bed.
I was beginning to feel very tired, and sleep drifted over me. But I was making progress, that was certain. I'd narrowed the field of seven suspects to the three remaining girls: Carmen Cervantes, Mary Ellen Cuthbert, and Joanne Murray. One of these girls must have the elusive birthmark, and I'd have to find it.
It would bear looking into.