I live and work in paradise. I’m thirty years old and have been a lifeguard for more than fifteen years. For the last eight I’ve been the guard at Wineglass Beach on the east coast of small island in the waters south of Melbourne, Australia.
I had to look twice the first time I saw her. Beyond the exquisite beauty of the beach, I am used to seeing sexy swimmers every day. To be honest, I rarely notice anymore. But there was something different about her. She was striking.
She first appeared for a month last January. Her fit 5’11” frame was laid out on a plush towel like a display of feminine perfection, yet not calling attention to herself. She wore a blue string bikini that barely covered, allowing the sun’s rays to have their way on her glistening tan skin. Dark glasses hid her eyes. Her long blond hair flowed freely. She was elegantly risqué.
Each day she appeared in the late afternoon when most beachgoers were packing up. She laid in the sun, soaking in its warmth and affection. She methodically turned her body from front to back, allowing the sun’s rays to color her back and perfect ass evenly with the rest of her body. She was always alone. She sometimes read. A few times I walked past her, offering a kindly “g’day,” yet never acknowledged. As the sun was setting, she would get up and saunter to the water. She strolled waist deep, before diving in, disappearing beneath the surface. After a short swim, she walked out of the water like a vision, before disappearing with the setting sun. She was mysterious.
After four weeks, she disappeared as surreptitiously as she arrived. She was captivating. Now she was gone. She was paradise, lost forever.
Eleven months passed before she suddenly reappeared. She furtively arrived late in the afternoon, laid out as rotisserie in the sun, read, enjoyed a brief swim before silently vanishing. She was always alone, never saying a word or acknowledging anyone. Her beauty and mysteriousness were irresistible.
One warm day, almost four weeks after her return, I watched the sun move again toward the horizon. The beach emptied the closer it got. She made her journey to the beckoning water. Her bikini was teasingly risqué as always, almost transparent. Her tan body glistened in the rays of the setting sun.
The movement in my speedo betrayed my professionalism. I kept watch of the lone swimmer as she stepped purposely into the shallow waves, walking deeper until she dove beneath its surface, offering a glance of her perfect ass. She enjoyed her usual brief swim in the crystal-clear aqua water without a glance in my direction. She was all alone with herself in paradise.
Suddenly her arms began to flail. Her hands splashed violently. It was uncharacteristic. Riptides are common and dangerous.
I jumped off the stand and sprinted toward the water. It felt like slow motion. She continued to splash desperately. My feet hit the water, kicking sprays up as I moved into the breaking waves. I swam right toward her. Her arms suddenly grabbed hold of me, wrapping around my neck, leaning on my muscular shoulders, pulling herself close. I began to tread water with all my strength, holding us both up to keep our heads above water.
