In the far distance I could see the bright lights of Paradise Palms, and could hear the faint sound of music. The night was still, and sounds carried easily.
“Pretty nice,” I said. “What shall we do?”
Miss Wonderly had pulled up her skirt to her knees, and began to roll down her stockings. Her legs were slim and muscular.
“I’m going in,” she said.
I went around to the back of the car, unlocked the boot and took out a couple of towels and my trunks. It took me less than two minutes to shed my clothes. The warm breeze against my skin felt swell. I came around the Buick. Miss Wonderly was waiting for me. She was in her white brassiere and pants.
“That’s a hell of a swim suit.” I said.
She said I was right, and took them off.
I didn’t look at her.
We walked across the strip of sand, hand in hand. The sand was hot, and we sank in up to our ankles. I eyed her as we began to wade through the surf. A sculptor could have cast her in bronze for a perfect thirty-four, and he’d never have to do anything more about it. I was surprised I could take her so calmly.
We swam out to a moored raft. The sea was warm, and when she hoisted herself on to the raft, she looked like a sprite from the ocean bed.