I took her chin between my ringer and thumb and raised her face. She closed her eyes. She looked white, like a beautiful porcelain mask in the moonlight. I looked down at her, then I kissed her. Her lips tasted salty. They were firm and cool and good. We stayed like that while the raft rode the ripples; and I didn’t care what was going to happen, even though I was sure that something was going to happen.
She pushed away from me suddenly, slid off my lap and stood up. I looked at her. Her beauty gave me a hell of a buzz. She dived in as I grabbed at her, and swam away from me. I sat there and waited. After a while, she turned and came back. I tilted the raft down into the water so she slid up it on her stomach. She lay close to me, her chin in her hands, flat, her ankles crossed. She had a beautiful little back.
“Now tell me the story of your life,” I said.
She shook her head. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“There must be. How long have you been here?”
“A year.”
“Before then?”
“New York.”
“A show girl.”
“Yes.”