et's go to the reservoir!" she says. I'm surprised. I've never heard of there being a reservoir in these woods. But I'll follow her anywhere, I think. We walk, sun dappling tree tops, shadows gathering below. It's getting late, but her stride is sure. It's a pleasure to follow. She smiles at me over her shoulder, calls: "We'll kin dip!"
What does she mean? Some code unknown to me, but I smile anyway. The more I'm with her, the less questions I ask these days, at least, out loud. She's already darting ahead on the trail. Kin dip. Can she really mean "skinny dip?" This is too much to conceive. We haven't even kissed yet, not a proper kiss. She does that French thing when we part or meet, just the cheeks. Odd, because she's not French. Actually I have no idea where she's from. But the thought of seeing what she looks like naked... I stumble on a rock, gut tightening.
he's disappeared. Lost, suddenly (I've never been in this part of the woods before), I feel a jolt of old, old, little boy fear. "Over here!" I hear her call. Stagger on. The path twists. And now, up over a rise, she's there again. Looking happily down at -- what? There before me is a huge crater. It's a dark circle in the earth, as if some huge force has scooped a gargantuan scoop out of it. Perfectly round, clearly man-made, and void: a big empty hole in the ground, completely dry of water. What a shame, I think, an ecological disaster, there was water, now it's all used up, and she'll be so disappointed, to have taken me this far. But when I turn to her she's smiling gaily. "What are you waiting for? Aren't you going to take off your clothes?"
look at her, bewildered. "Well, after you," is all I can think to say. And she laughs, "Silly!" modestly covering her breasts with one arm and looking at her, strange but even with her clothes on, she now seems more exposed than ever. Her blouse is telling me things about her mother, her skirt's revealing ambivalent feelings that linger from her last relationship, and with some trick of light and shadow the clothes are translucent, I could swear I see the tiny brown mole on the crest of her left inner thigh and embarrassed, I look away. And feeling only a little dumber than I usually do in her presence, I begin hurriedly taking off my shirt.
I'm down to my underwear when I hear the splash. Startled, I look to the deep black crater and at first see no more than a swirling glimpse of white. Then, there she is -- emerging -- suspended on a surface that's visible only to herself. She's swimming in mid-air. Astonished, I stumble out of my boxer shorts, unable to take my eyes off her as she turns leisurely on one side and begins a graceful paddle through space. "Come on!" she calls. "It's not too cold."
