Pier Lights by Ella M. Kaye

mask. From his
costume. Why?
    Edging in slowly, cautious of drop off
points in the mossy slimy shifting sand below her feet, Caroline
let the water circle her rib cage and stopped. Called check. She
wasn’t sure if she wanted him to call check mate or retreat. He was
beautiful. He was sensually exotically madly beautiful. She didn’t
want to lose that image.
    He picked up the oars.
    She held still.
    Slowly, he dipped them into the water.
    Caroline’s heart stilled as she waited to
see whether he would ebb or flow, come or leave, accept her
challenge or retreat.
    He stroked lightly. The boat moved toward
her.
    Moonlight lit his shoulders as they surged
with his movement. He was close enough now she would be able to see
his face if it wasn’t covered. She wished it wasn’t. She wanted to
see him. She wanted to see all of him.
    He stopped.
    The cold of the water sank into her flesh,
deep down into her body. “So close and yet so far.” She called out
to him.
    “You work at the club.”
    “So do you.”
    He held still. Studied her.
    “I love boats.” She added to the
challenge.
    “I love dancers.”
    “Strippers, you mean?”
    “No. I mean dancers. What they do with it, I
don’t much care.”
    She grinned. “Come this way farther. My
sarong will get wet if I come all the way to you.”
    “My boat will hit bottom if I come all the
way to you.”
    She took a couple more steps until the water
was just below her breasts, unwrapped the sarong, and held it over
her head. With both hands. As though in surrender mode.
    Maybe she was.
    He rowed closer.
    She took a couple more steps. The water
splashed up onto her breasts.
    He edged slightly closer, enough she could
nearly reach the boat, but not quite. “I’ll ground myself if I go
in farther.”
    “I guess that’s the end of our game then,
isn’t it?”
    “Do you want it to be?”
    “I don’t want my sarong wet. I need it to
wrap in for the walk home.”
    “You live close.”
    “Yes. Why did you put your mask on when I
walked toward you?”
    “Why did you walk toward me?”
    “Curiosity.”
    “About my sword.”
    “Yes. About your sword. And the way you use
it. But my arms are getting tired so I’ll have to call it a night.”
She stepped backward.
    “Lina.” He moved to the front of his boat
and stuck his sword out, above the water, close enough she could
touch it if she dared. “Wrap your sarong around it and I’ll bring
it into the boat.”
    Check mate. He’d called it.
    She hesitated. How would she get it back out
again dry? Did she want this risk? She knew nothing of him. She
wanted to know nothing of him. And yet...
    Carefully, she lowered her arms and stepped
out close enough to his sword to wrap the sarong so it wouldn’t
fall off.
    He pulled it in, unwrapped it carefully so
he wouldn’t cut the delicate fabric, and reached out a hand.
“Coming in?”
    “Sure you have room for me? It’s a small
boat.”
    “Not nearly as small as it seems from out
there.”
    Lina figured if she was going to do it, she
should do it all the way. She dove under the water and came up
right beside him. Her hair was down and she had to brush it out of
her face. He offered his arms. She accepted. It was an awkward way
to get on a boat but they managed it well enough.
    He handed her a towel as she sat on the wood
plank seat facing him. So far he sat still and respected the
distance. She supposed that was a good sign. She sopped her hair
then mopped her body. Slowly. Seductively, she hoped. She pressed
it against her breasts, lowered it to her stomach, ran it over her
legs, and rested it on her lap. He followed every movement but he
still held his distance.
    The light she’d noticed reflecting off his
sword wasn’t only from the moon or the pier. He had a small lantern
in the small boat.
    “I’m Dio.”
    “I know. Is that real or a stage name?”
    “Is Lina real or a stage name?”
    “Right. Guess it doesn’t matter and best to
leave it alone.”
    He