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.” “No! It isn’t! It isn’t!” Into the headlights came the iron gates of Cragness. Quentin operated the combination which set an invisible beam in motion. The gates swung silently open. Then clanged heavily behind them after the car had swept through. Envoi Melissa wriggled her toes in the warm sand. Wearing a clinging, one-piece white bathing suit, she was lying under a beach umbrella gazing out at a sea so smoothly blue it could only be the Mediterranean. It was mid-morning and the sun was just pleasantly warm. There was a glass of iced Pernod on a small table by Melissa’s side. Far out to sea, there was a wake of white foam. That was Quentin - her husband Quentin - on water-skies. That was all part of his plan for slimming down. Melissa was aware that she was frequently the focus of numerous male eyes which passed. Deliberately she would pose herself provocatively from time to time. Sometimes lying on her back with thighs parted. At others on her tummy, her bottom curvaceously. Orange and red flowed freely out of the room and back into the crimson sky. In a rush to take its place, a cold draft rolled in, bringing with it a welcome coolness. I pulled the comforter off our chests, exposing everything above our waists to the light, allowing the warm colors to dance upon our skin. Was the sun blushing? I ran my hand through her silky hair, stopping near the ends. She smelled like passion fruit and watermelon, an intoxicating melody that seemed perfectly at home in the summer. Her hair was dark brown, but you could barely tell without being under direct sunlight. Otherwise it looked black like every other Asian’s. The strands flowed freely down the nape of her neck and onto the bed, though some stuck to her wet skin. She was still sweating, but so was I. She was a small creature, easily bundled in my arms. Small, but warm – both inside and out. Her personality was infectious, a permanent smile tugged at her lips and jokes rose from her like bubbles in a boiling.
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