Wesley Stone became aware that it was morning. The first day home for the summer, and he woke up more or less on schedule. That might stop in time. In fact, it was a good day to work on re-learning to sleep late. He pulled the sheet over his head and lay face down on the bed. It felt good to be lazy in a bed twice the size of the college bunk, to be between ironed sheets, instead of the rough-dried ones which he laundered for himself in the dormitory. The linen was cool and light on this back, and if felt smooth to his chest and stomach.
In and out of sleep he drifted, vaguely aware of noises downstairs as his folks prepared to go through their usual routines. He was next aware of being awake as he heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs toward his room.
“Wes?”
“Hmm.”
“I’m going. I’ll be back at four thirty. You can find something in the refrigerator to make for lunch. Have a nice day, dear.”
“Hmm.”
“I left my phone number if you need me.”
No answer.
He heard the steps as she walked away. Later, the car started, and the garage door lowered. The house was quiet and, while he knew this would be perfect sack time, he was wide awake. There was an excitement that knotted in his stomach. His whole system felt go!
After sharing a room with two other guys at school, the excitement was really the anticipation of being alone in the house, as well as the pleasure of having no responsibilities for a week before his job started. Perhaps by the end of this week, he would be ready for the job of loading crates, or whatever he was to do at the warehouse.
Slowly, Wesley rolled over. His arms and shoulders came out from under the sheet as he stretched, touching all four corners of the bed. He tensed until his legs cramped. Kicking off the sheet, his feet shot up in the air until his hips were over his head. Only his shoulders and the back of his head touched the bed. Shoving the pajama shorts to his knees, a few bicycle kicks sent them tumbling across the room.
At school, almost everyone slept in their jockey briefs and so did he. He wondered if he would have to explain to his mother why his pajamas never wore out. The first night at school was the last night he had worn pajamas, and the only reason he did at home was because his folks had always expected it.
He knew some of the guys in the dorm slept bare and, at times, he tried it himself. Many nights after the light were out, he slipped out of his briefs; but on such nights, he never slept well. He could never get used to sleeping nude. Even if he tried it for several nights in a row, he always ended up with an excitement that had to find its release.
And the excitement came to him now. It would be a good day! No commitments. No schedule.
But later! It was early. He thought the day held a promise as he rolled out of bed.
It felt strange to walk bare through the house, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and stood there with the cool falling over his youthful nakedness.
Even at school, when he walked from the shower in the gym, he wrapped a towel about his waist; and, in the dorm, while there was a lot of clowning around, no one really ran around naked. They had talked about this in one of the Open University’s Seminars on Sensuality. He had been surprised to find that the other guys felt like he did. But, when he was in the dorm, he just followed the mores there.
He poured the milk on his cereal and propped his feet on the counter as he ate his breakfast, looking out over the backyard.
A swim and some sun would be the order of the day. Anyway, that would be a start. During the holidays, he would try to keep in shape for swimming. When the summer job started, the work in the warehouse would be hard and strenuous, but to be good at swimming and diving, it really required plenty of time in the water and on the boards. He had not expected to make the varsity team last year. For the next year, he would make a good try. He had resolved to return to school in top swimming shape. Swimming twice a day on his off days and once on workdays might do the trick.
He put his bowl in the sink and bounded up the stairs three at a time. After stopping off in the bathroom, he found his racing silks and started down the stairs. The full-length mirror in the hall caught his eye. He had asked to install it when he was in high school so that he could see how he looked before going out. Not that he really dated so much, but he has always been concerned about his looks.
And now, he stood there, naked with the racing silks in his hands. At six feet, two inches and 163 pounds, he thought he looked skinny. “That’s okay,” he thought. “Better this way.” He was down the steps in four leaps, mumbling aloud, “If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all.”
While the fence provided privacy in the back yard, he stepped into his suit before going outside. The guys on the team had joked about diving in the buff. The silks provided some protection, but even in them, a bad dive could be painful. He could easily imagine that every dive might hurt without a suit.
The air was warming with the sun coming up full and hot, but the concrete was still cool to his feet as he approached the pool. It looked great!
There was always something exciting about the first dive in a clear, calm pool. Its surface mirrored the sky and clouds and trees. Splotches of light bounced across the bottom. The pump was mixing the water down deep, but none of this showed on the glazed surface.
He always tried to make that first diver the best. In this mind, he could see how it should be. He saw himself coming off the high board, bouncing high and arching over the flat surface. Then, he would straighten. Every muscle would go tight as he shot downward. The water would rush over his arms and back and legs as he penetrated. He would go deep and know that he had cut clean. Then, he would turn and watch the ripple of the circle cover the surface above him. Finally, he would emerge, gasping for air, but with an exhilarating freshness. The cold water would give the surge of energy to swim hard and to dive. He could go for an hour when it was good. Afterwards would come the deep sleep – the long, deep sleep which gave back the strength spent to total exhaustion.
He climbed the board and made the leap. The first dive was never as good as in his mind’s eye. Over and over again he dove and then he swam … hard at first, making fast laps and good turns. Then he slowed. He rolled, pulling the string on the swim trunks. The water caught them. In a few flutter kicks, they were off and he swam five more laps lazily feeling the pull of the water over his body as he surged through it. On the last lap, he dove deep as he approached the side and sprang off the bottom. In one continuous motion, he broke the surface, grabbed the side of the pool, and pushed up till he was out. He was panting for breath. Jumping to shake off the water, he moved to his towel and fell into it. The heat of the sun felt good to his chilled body.
Who would see now if he tanned all over? He had wondered how some of the guys at school got their total tan or if they felt self-conscious to show to the shower room that they had lain naked in the sun. It didn’t matter now. He was alone for the summer.
Lying on his stomach, he folded his arms under his head. Even though the hard concrete hurt his hip bones, he was tired enough so that he was soon asleep.
When he woke, the water on his arms was from sweat rather than the pool. He rolled over and stretched. He was relaxed now. The excitement he had felt earlier was gone. The tiring swim had been perfect. He stood and looked back at his buttocks. The skin would not blister. The pinkness would turn to a tan.
The pool was calm again. He walked to the edge and tumblesaulted in, landing on this back. The water seemed colder after lying in the warm sun. He dove under and caught the submerged trunks. Surfacing, he flung them toward the towel and pushed off backwards from the side. Each arm swung in time back over his head, pulling his shoulders out of the water. The ripples tumbled over his stomach giving him the sheer pleasure of swimming and enjoying it.
He was plowing through the third lap on his back when he saw a movement near the house. A lady stepped out the door!
“Oh, you must be Wesley. I thought your mother was home swimming and came over for a dip.” She was taking off her beach towel. “You don’t mind if I take a quick dive. Do you?”
His mouth said, “No.” but he was measuring the distance to his suit lying on the grass as he moved to the side of the pool nearest her. She was talking about coming over and talking about something which Wesley never heard. He was aware that his face was flushed and that he could not reach his suit. She hardly stopped talking as she walked to the end of the pool and dove.
He watched her go deep and turn upward. Her head broke the water past him. She was smiling, but she said quite earnestly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Why didn’t you say you were skinny dipping? Here, let me leave you alone. Please forgive me.”
She swam to the steps and had started out when he heard himself saying, “That’s okay, really. Stay … only … there’s my suit over there.”
She stopped and picked it up. From the look she gave the suit as she brought it to him, he knew she thought it rather skimpy, and now he did, too. He had hoped she would throw it, but she handed it to him. He felt her eyes and his blush. Exhaling, he sank down and struggled to get his feet in. Pulling the suit up, he surfaced, and while treading water, tied the string.
How could he say such a thing? “There. Why don’t you come back in?”
Her eyes stayed on his for a moment. Then, with a surge, she hit the water in a racer’s dive. Halfway across the pool, she turned.
“When I was in school, I was pretty good. Race ya!”
He didn’t move but watched her swimming away. Her flutter kick was good, and when she got to the edge, the turn looked okay. She surfaced laughing, coming toward him doing a slow breaststroke.
“Hey,” she lighted. “I thought you were supposed to be a swimmer.”
He was thinking how in the hell he had gotten into this, but said, “Okay, I’ll take you on!” And they pushed off.
It was a tie, but they both knew he had allowed it. She held to the edge, breathing hard, laughing.
“Just wait, you know I was out of breath from the last lap. When I catch my breath, I’ll beat you.”
They both laughed. And, then they raced. Without realizing it, he relaxed. While she rested on the bank, he did a complete lap under water. She was impressed. Or she acted as though she were. Of course, he showed her some dives. It turned out that she was pretty good at diving too. Only, she splashed too much. As she was climbing out one time, he realized that she was not really a contemporary of his mother. She had to be somewhere around thirty-five.
“Hey. Let me make a suggestion about your entry into the water. You know, I don’t even know your name.”
“Marion.” She extended her hand. He touched her.
“Look, Marion. When you hit the water … " And he talked to her about keeping the splash down and demonstrated three times – the right way, the wrong way, and the right way again. After the last dive, he treaded water off the board.
“Now, you try. Stretch your arms as far as you can and keep the legs straight and tight until you finish the turn under water.”
As she made the approach, he made a surface dive to watch her follow through. She hit good, and suddenly doubled. He couldn’t believe it! The top of her suit was jerked down to her waist by the force of the water. He knew he should surface and turn away, but he hung there below the surface, watching as she struggled to pull the top up. She tried to untie the knot which was now about her waist. Her breath gave out, and she kicked to the top. He floated up and flung his wet hair from his eyes.
Marion did not look at him but fumbled with the halter behind her back. “Oh, damn!” She laughed and bobbed below the surface. “I can’t get the knot out. Turnabout is fair play, huh, Wesley?”
She was obviously embarrassed and out of breath, too. He swam to her.
“Here, grab hold.”
She extended her arm and put her hand on his shoulder. Rolling backwards, he swam toward the shallow end with a slow back stroke. Her hands slipped to his chest as she rested her face on his stomach.
Wesley was aware of the softness of her bare breast on his legs, and he felt the excitement of the early morning coming back to him. She turned and their eyes met.
“Wesley, you are just a kid.”
He let his feet drop. The water was shallow here. Her hands slid down his sides. He swallowed hard.
“Turn around and I’ll get the string undone.”
She watched over her shoulder as his hands worked on the knot, but his eyes were caressing her body. He smiled for her breasts were round and well-tanned. She had not gotten that tan in a swimsuit.
And then, he knew it was okay!
The knot was loose now. As she turned to thank him, she saw his thumbs looped in his swimsuit and sliding it below the water.
The sun reflected in the pool causing the light to dance in her eyes and on his bare belly. Only the tossing light on the surface hid his nudity.
He saw the desire he felt reflected in her flush. She reached out and touched his face. His fingers stroked her arm and slid down to her shoulder. Her breasts were firm in his cupped hands. The water lapped at her waist as his hands slipped down her sides and untied the remaining strings. He sunk back in the water as she floated over him. It was a warm tanglement of legs and arms – a mixture of the softness of a mature, athletic woman and the hardness of a young, lithe man. They pulled themselves onto the wide steps leading out of the pool. He bent over her to brush his lips against her cheek. Her fingers found the crease down the middle of his back as drops of water fell off his shoulders and chest.
In his mind, he saw the calm surface of the water as he jumped on the diving board, as he arched high over the pool, and tensing every muscle, as he plunged in. The water rushed over him and took him in, allowing him to sink deeper and deeper. Suddenly the exhilaration of the first dive burst from his soul!
Poor kid. He had no idea. Whenever he saw her later, he blushed but otherwise was properly respectful. "Hello, Mrs. Robinson," he would say. She would extend her hand and as he took it, she would chuckle quietly at his shyness. "Are you still on the diving team at the University?" He would feel his face getting hot at this question but would reply that he was. "Let me know when you are competing. I'd like to come watch." "Yes," he would stammer. She went on, "You should get job as a lifeguard at the pool this summer." And he would look at her and wonder if it wouldn't be better for him to go to summer school and take that biology class.
Oh, well. He got a girlfriend that Spring and, well, things just did not work out with Mrs. Robinson again.