I Live in my Scuba Gear

Chapter Three – Scribd.Com Edition

Russell Twyce

I Live In My Scuba GearChapter Three

Warning:

This story contains some fairly explicit sexual depictions.

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For the next few days, Belinda stayed over. One day they drove to herapartment to collect fresh clothes and toiletries. She called her folks toassure them that aliens hadn’t abducted her but that rather she wason a special freelance assignment. The interview sessions took place during the days and evenings,punctuated with frequent sex breaks and various outings. He hadn’tdropped any more conversation bombs like the admission of his havingmurdered his adoptive father. Rather, the talk was on whatever topicstruck a moment’s fancy or detailing the exotic places he had been toand dwelled at. The bulk of his work experience had, not surprisingly,been related to scuba diving, scuba gear, diving equipment and/orswimming. The two settled into a domestic routine that Belinda found to besurprisingly comfy. It was almost like they were newlyweds and theintercourse that went on without prophylactics or even usage of theCatholic rhythm method made cohabitation feel as if they were achurch-wedded couple. To be completely honest, Belinda quite enjoyed the unprotected sex.When he dived into her naked like that, it felt like she was swimming inthe nude. When he came, there was a warm and gooey feeling insideher that made sex with a condom seem clinical in contrast. There wasalso the background fact that she could conceivably conceive and thatbit of life drama turned their sex acts into reproduction events.“Let’s go to the beach today.” Scott offered. “I’ll teach you how toscuba dive.”Along the way he stopped off at a specialty sporting goods store forthe appropriate scuba diving equipment.“Can’t we just rent my scuba gear package?” Belinda cringed at thehit to her credit card that a full set of diving equipment might cost.“We could,” he ushered her to the scuba gear section, “but I’ve seenthe way rental diving gear is handled at a dive charter outfit. Most, butnot all companies give their stuff a thorough maintenance but I’ve

seen scuba gear abused worse than I was.”He picked out diving gear items and got her to try them on. And a pileof equipment that met his approval grew steadily larger. There werescuba fins, a diving mask, snorkel, a scuba BC vest, regulator and aweight belt. The final selection was a sexy looking scuba divingwetsuit with short sleeves and the leggings ending at her mid thigh.But there her meager finances rebelled.“I don’t think I’ll need the scuba wetsuit: it’s such a nice warm day.”“Try telling me that after we’ve been down to about 10 meters or so.”He grabbed the bundle and headed for the store’s checkout. “Thewarm sunshine isn’t quite as toasty in deeper water.Belinda’s worst fear, an embarrassing transaction declined message,didn’t materialize though, as he flipped his credit card onto thecounter. They wheeled the purchases out to his SUV and loaded themin the back beside his equipment bag.“What if it turns out that I don’t enjoy scuba diving?” Belinda asked.“Then I suppose I’ll have to offer it all to the next hot female reporterwho wants me to grant her an interview.”She could tell from his expression that he wasn’t being serious, so shepunched him on the shoulder. Her hit was fairly hard: it was strongerthan she had intended.“I barely even felt that.” Scott laughed and scoffed. “Luther’s righthook was a like a freight train coming around a tight corner.”

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“Fully understand one concept before we move onto the next.” Scottgrasped her scuba mask and he kicked his flippers: he towed her likethat out to deeper water, laughing all the way. Then he stoppedkicking and relaxed his grip. Her scuba mask settled onto her face butit was a bit cockeyed. “Let’s go back down to the reef and watch thefish swimming again. This time pay careful attention of how they usetheir tails and play back the video clips to compare that with myunique kick.”—X—O—X—“You’ll not likely finish so far ahead of the rest in the next Olympicgames.” Belinda had sat in the truck quietly thinking, before uttering