She was waiting on the beach, her pale lines gleaming in the late afternoon sun. She was waiting for a sailor – and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her. Her cotton sales were the purest white. I took them down quickly so that I could wonder at every inch if her. With my hands gripping her slender frame, I pushed gently and she thrummed with the waves as I ventured deeper and deeper. Soon she was bobbing, up and down, salty and wet, the wind playing along her firm curves. Faster and faster we moved, until the forces of nature took over and I lost control. She bucked wildly beneath me, exquisitely slippery, letting the waves take her. They carried her to a gradual calm and for a long while we drifted, until it was time to tie her up.