Night Swimming | 17 July 2021

Night swimming, so sexual and risky all at once. The lights were low and that aided on both counts: you were both protected and exposed at the same time.  The party was winding down. While you had not indulged, most of the attendees had enjoyed a few joints and a few bottles and were now, sluggishly, finding their way home. Out of the shadows you saw his tall figure emerge from behind a frond: just as it had in so many daydreams. He waded into the water, and you couldn’t yet divine whether he could detect your state of dress. Oh man, was this the moment you’d been waiting for?

DD Response

“Brie?,” he said as he saw me sitting on the bank. “Is that you?”

“Yes. It’s me.”

“I thought everyone was gone.”

“It’s just me. “

“Are you going to swim?”

“I didn’t bring a suit. Everyone was making fun of me, because I wouldn’t join in the skinny-dipping party. I don’t need to hear more of that.”

“You won’t hear any of that from me.”

“But you’re doing it.”

“Because I thought everyone was gone. I’m not in to voyeurism and group sex parties, but it does feel really good to swim naked. There is something really freeing about it. Wanna try? I will turn around while you get in the water.”

The crickets chirped the only reply as I swallowed the fear. Seconds passed and he let my silent debate have its space.

“Okay” I said as he turned his back to the shore and waded in up to his chest.

I slowly undressed and folded my clothes into a neat pile. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I thought. But it felt safe and exciting and powerful. “I’m not ready yet,” I said as I gingerly stepped into the water.

“Take your time,” he replied.

I waded in a few feet away, parallel to where he was standing. The cold water moved around my body, and it felt amazing. I found myself smiling as I closed my eyes, outstretched my arms and looked up at the stars. “I’m here,” I said. “I know” he replied as he turned toward me with a smile of his own.

“I was talking to the universe” I said. “I know” he replied again. “That’s what I find so fascinating about you.”

That was the beginning of us, and as I sit here in the same spot 35 years later, I still smile. My partner, my friend, my lover always waited for me to find my courage. He didn’t expect more from me than I was able to offer, and one step at a time he walked beside me. I’ll never again touch his face or feel his arms hold me, but I’ll always have his love- his sweet patient love to carry me forward.

HCH Response

What was he still doing here?

I took an extra two steps backwards to cover my shoulders with water. Reflexive modesty — a little late for that, I guess. Soft mud squished between my toes, and a tickle grazed my ankle. I recited the night swimmer’s mantra: “It’s algae, it’s algae, it’s algae.”

His silhouette paused on the sand and raised its hand in an effortless hello. My pulse jumped. Had we ever spoken more than three words in a row to each other? My interest in him was irrational, pheromonal. If it hadn’t been for enough mutual friends to land both of us at an occasional gathering, we wouldn’t know each other from a hole in the ground. But as holes in the ground go, I’d gladly stop to investigate this one. Now here I was, buck naked in a lake, in a beam of unfiltered acknowledgment. Stupid broad shoulders. Stupid faraway eyes. Stupid baritone. Stupid way he was… undoing his… pants? Oh my god, he was wading in.

“This is the best idea anyone’s had all night,” he called out. His steps sent dark waves rippling toward me.

My mind flashed to the covers of trashy novels I’d found so scandalous as a teenager. I wondered if I looked as seductive — my hair slicked back with algae water and my fourth-worst underwear draped in a nearby tree — as those illustrated women moonbathing in their silvery lakes. Of course I wanted this experience. It’s just… I guess I thought it would follow hours of flirtation on dry land, not skip straight to the wet stuff.

He was near enough that I could feel the extra degree of warmth he’d brought with him. I suddenly fantasized about skipping even further ahead to a different myth: slipping into his arms, resting my head on his chest, listening to the frogs and crickets in the cattails, feeling so close that we could fall asleep holding each other. But my nerve endings were now pounding at the door, so trashy it would have to be.

“Hey there,” I tried on my best soap opera voice. Nope. Dropping that. “How’s your night been?”

“Good. But, you know.” He nodded toward the party, which had quieted down into a few glowing embers on the other side of the tree line. “It’s hard to keep up sometimes. So you just kind of hold on until the storm passes.”

“That’s a good way to put it.” We smiled. One, two, two and a half… There it was, the awkward pause. “Can I tell you something?” I saved us.

“Sure,” he said, with a hint of surprise.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been skinny-dipping in a lake.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve done it a bunch of times in the ocean. But it’s different in a lake, especially at night.”

“Mmmmmhm,” he agreed. “It’s more than peaceful. It brings all your senses to life. All your thoughts, memories even. Everything just comes rushing in.” Wow, that was unexpectedly thoughtful. Maybe he was hot and cool.

He took a deep breath and leaned his head back in appreciation. His chest rose and fell. I watched the water break and recollect its tension around his frame. I felt a light graze across my submerged arm closest to him. That was not algae. That was his hand, reaching for mine with his eyes closed. I joined it and reached for his other hand. We were now facing each other, a closed circuit with perfect current. The water between us was as warm as a bath.

“So… Anything else you want to tell me?” he asked, inching closer.

I could barely speak. Was this the part where we breathily confess that we have been noticing each other for a while, but neither of us had taken a chance to make the first move? And then we have a moonlit lake skinny-dipping kiss, and make out for an appropriate amount of time before transitioning to the hot’n’heavy, anti-gravity, tangled-limb, underwater groping portion? I did the only thing I could to play cool. I turned the tables. “You first,” I whispered.

He stood quietly, looking at me — no, through me. One, two, two and a half… I let this one ride. Then he closed his eyes again. His mouth opened but no words appeared before it closed again. “Um,” he started, and cleared his throat.

“Well,” he started softly. “When I was 10, I snuck into my brother’s room after school one day. He was at a friend’s house.”

“Okay…”

“I played with all of his action figures, and then I french-kissed his poster of Jennifer Lopez.” He furrowed his brow.

“Ohhhh?” I squashed a smile as if it were a sneeze I could barely keep in.

“Another time, when I was mad at him, I collected my boogers for a week and then put them in his bed.” He took a deep breath and let it slowly out. “Jesus, I’ve never told anyone about that. It feels so good.”

“Wowww.” My face fought to find an appropriate reaction. “So… You’ve been feeling bad about that for a long time?”

“I don’t feel that bad, he was always a jerk to me. But secrets eat you up inside, and I don’t know — when you asked if you could tell me something, it kind of felt like this must be the right time to open up.”

“I’m… glad you did.” My fingers were turning into prunes under the water, but he was still holding my hands. He was drawing some strength or comfort from our confession ring. The nerve endings had called off their battle cry. My nose itched. But you never know how this stuff goes — tears could be next. Pulling away now would be uncool. He squeezed my hands tighter and took one more deep breath.

“I peed on a coworker’s car,” he exhaled. “He’s just a real prick. I was there late one night, and he’d left his car in the lot because his girlfriend picked him up. So I peed on all the door handles. And the trunk latch.”

“Ahh?”

“Yeah. And the only ever time I’d ever done something like that was when I peed in my neighbor’s flowers because they hated my dog. Other than that, never. I swear. I’ve only done it to someone who really deserved it.” I pictured him as the self-appointed judge in the Court of Urine Punishment. I imagined him in a barrister’s wig and a robe, naked underneath for easy access to the weapon of choice.

“God, it is magical out here. I can’t believe you got me to tell you all this crazy stuff.” He chuckled. “You’re like a some kind of mermaid or a priestess or something. Or like, a hot Loch Ness Monster.”

He let go of my hands, and with a huge splash, he dunked himself underwater.