Steve Turnip slid his hands through his straw-colored hair, waving disobediently in conspiracy with the ocean breeze, stretched his long muscular body, and smiled, tightening his lips in two narrow strips. The ocean waves still held the memory of yesterday’s storm, but the sky was clear all the way to the horizon. Thinking that he was going to have a great time in the waves, Steve grabbed the surfboard out of his truck and went down the cliff to the water.
The tide went away. Here and there between the rocks, usually hidden underneath the water, Steve saw puddles of trapped water and little crabs running in them in their funny, backward, way.
Steve stepped into the water to test the temperature. A little colder than warm – just what the doctor ordered. The rocky beach was deserted at this morning hour and only the seagulls wedged their voices into the hum of the ocean.
Right before getting into the water, Steve heard a sound that was more melodious than and not as prosaic as a typical seagull cry. He turned toward the cry and noticed a large fishtail showing from behind the rocks. "I wonder if it’s a dolphin. It must have been brought here by the storm and gotten stuck between the rocks." Steve lay down the surfing board and moved between the rocks to clarify the situation.
Coming closer and climbing onto the rock, Steve witnessed the most bizarre creature he had ever seen in his life, or could, conceivably, imagine. There, between the rocks, in a puddle of water sat a mermaid. Small, not more than five feet from the top of her human head to the tip of her fishlike scaled tail.
But the strangeness of this realization circumvented Steve's consciousness, as he found another feeling possessing him. Everything about her - long red hair covering her breasts and stomach, the face and neck of almost bluish-white complexion, and the clear, faded-blue eyes displaying from within their depths hidden suffering, tolerated, exited within Steve an instant and wild desire in him.
Steve usually was considered a cold lover. Tall, toned, and handsome, he looked like a Viking – a descendant of whom he most likely was - and never had difficulties getting chicks. They were practically jumping his bones. But he was more interested in sports and "did" girls only as a necessity, so he’d have something to comment about around the campfire.
Therefore he was stunned and somewhat frightened with the magnitude of the feeling he experienced now. He felt himself getting hard inside his already slightly too tight surfing trunks.
"Boy, how lucky can a guy get?" he thought, joyfully, "As lucky as ME, that’s how lucky. I’ve caught me a mermaid and hell if I’m not gonna’ cut me off a piece of that nice, fresh, tuna. That should shut them up at the next kegger. None of them can say THEY ever had a slice of ‘mermaid pie.’" He looked down at her with a smirk.
"So… what’s happenin’, baby?"
"Oh, noble knight," The Mermaid raised her eyes to his, her voice was uneven and hoarse as if her mouth was dry. "The storm cast me onto the shore. I think I banged my head against the rock and lost consciousness. When I awoke, the tide pulled out and I couldn’t get back to the water. Can you be so immensely merciful as to help me to get there? I’ll be eternally thankful for your kindness." Her eyes had the most innocent expression and Steve for a second felt uneasy about his thoughts - but only for a second.
He jumped down from the rock to be closer to her.
"Oh, that all depends, baby - how thankful can you be?"
The Mermaid’s face darkened with confusion.
"I don’t know, oh, noble knight. What does the noble knight desire?"
"What do I want, baby? What any other guy would want from a hot chick. Understand? Me and you… understand?" Steve made a slight hip movement to end all confusion. "Oh no, no – never!" The Mermaid exclaimed, finally understanding what Steve meant. She blushed a thousand shades of blue.
Steve rose and threw a tentative look around the beach. Rarely visited by the beach crowd, this morning, because of last night’s storm, it was absolutely deserted.
"Listen, baby," Steve squatted back down next to her and touched her shoulder. "You have to understand something. You’ve been here how long – about four, five hours - and what’s happening to you? You’re rotting doll. Do you see what’s going down? I’m telling you, cookie – you’re starting to stink. Fishy, fishy… another four hours and don’t think any water is gonna’ help. And if you think that someone besides me is gonna’ help you – think again. Without me, you’re gonna’ die, baby. As sad as it might sound. And it certainly IS sad, very sad indeed.” Steve shook his head in pretend concern. "You don’t want this and I don’t want this. You need to get there, back to the water, and you need to get there now. Oh, I see you looking around… this is a deserted beach, baby. People rarely come here, especially after a storm. That’s why I like it.”
"So what do you say, babe? What are we gonna' do? You gonna’ be a good girl and show me some gratitude for helping you get home?"
Seeing The Mermaid wasn’t going to respond, Steve moved her hair away from her breasts and devoured their milky fullness with his gaze. Then suddenly, not being able to contain himself, he grabbed her, turned her over, and started frantically parting her scales looking for the, now, desperately- needed opening.
But what he, finally, found was so tiny he doubted he’d ever been able to fit, even if he was half his normal size.
Holding her by her hips her head down he began to try to work his way through her scales, but couldn’t breach their armoring, and the only thing he got from the attempting was a razor cut along his shaft when he slid side-ways across her scaly hip on one particularly forceful thrust.
Frustrated, Steve let The Mermaid drop onto the sand and, roughly pulling her into a seated position, made gestures indicating he wanted her to open her mouth. The Mermaid tried to push him away but in her desiccating condition and as small as she was, Steve easily swatted her hands away and was ready to open her mouth for her, when….
"WAIT!" The Mermaid begged, her voice hoarse and bleak, "The knight is a powerful warrior and, I see, a great lover, too." She looked at him with a timid smile and batted her lashes, but Steve saw something else behind the smile, something more experienced and teasing that caused Steve’s heart to pound. "The knight should understand that I am a water creature. I live in water, I blossom in water. And I open up in the water." Again Steve caught that "look." Only this time it was much more pronounced.
"You mean, you…."
"Yes, brave warrior, yes. I need to be wet." The Mermaid smiled widely, no longer hiding her seductiveness, and slid her hands over her breasts and down along her hips. "Take me to water, warrior, and your patience will be rewarded."
Feeling himself about ready to burst, Steve picked her light body into his arms and carried her the several yards from where they’d been down to the water, carefully stepping between the rocks. As he walked he looked around suspicious of unexpected prying eyes but was finally satisfied there was no one else around.
"Just don’t try to fuck with me," Steve warned her before lowering her into the water.
"Oh, I’ll do whatever my knight wants and, perhaps, even more."
He stood up to his waist in the water, still holding her in his arms.
"My warrior, allow me, first, to feast." She looked down through the waves at his nakedness. "And don’t worry, I shall not flee. You will hold my head."
Feeling the gentle touch of her mouth under the water, Steve moaned with pleasure. Several movements of her lips made him so ecstatic that his hands raised to his head, releasing his beautiful victim.
To Steve it seemed he lost hold of her for only a split second yet, instantly, he realized with all his body her absence and a bellow of anger escaped his mouth, only to instantly change back to a smile as The Mermaid, smiling, too, rose to the surface next to him and grabbed his hand.
"Come with me, my knight, come with me, my lover."
"Where to?" Steve asked, genuinely curious.
"Over there, to those rocks. There are so smooth and comfortable. I’ll be yours there, all the way."
The rock formation she pointed to was about a hundred yards away. Many times Steve had rested there before starting to surf. Unlike the sharp and edgy shore rocks, those were smooth and polished as if they were composed not of bedrock so much as a pearl. Steve also figured that they would do their "thing" on the other side of the rocks – away from those prying eyes he still suspected everywhere.
They swam together side by side. The coy, seductive smile now didn’t leave her face at all, and actually, Steve thought had turned to something even more intriguing and exciting.
At about fifty yards to the rock formation, The Mermaid unexpectedly increased her speed. Steve tried to follow up on this challenge, but quickly realized he wasn’t a match.
"Hey, baby – hold on a sec. I’m older than I look and, hell, I ain’t got fins!" Steve forced a sputtering laugh, trying to hide from her the sudden sense of panic creeping up his spine.
The Mermaid, though she had the lead, to Steve’s surprise, didn’t swim away but stayed in sight. Only now bereft of all seductiveness and veiled, instead, with an almost palpable aura of hatred and contempt. To Steve’s confusion, The Mermaid started slowly circling ‘round him.
"Hey, baby, what kind of game IS this?"
Silent, The Mermaid simply kept her gaze determinedly placed straight ahead and increased her circling speed. Steve felt the water moving hard behind her – ‘round and ‘round and ‘round, faster and faster, till he started to feel a tugging at his legs and suddenly realized what kind of game this was.
By then, of course, it was too late. Moving faster and faster, and around and around and around, The Mermaid’s circular movements had created at their center a tidy little vortex, in which Steve Turnip found himself directly and most inconveniently placed. The water, first, a lazy slow seductive pulling downward fast turned into a great and wide and sucking space and, then, that space became the deep and black and infinitely sucking hole The Mermaid had – as promised – once wetted, had made especially for him.
And, then, Steve Turnip, a frantic fleshy ball of panic and despair, collected all his force of will together for one final scream for help – but, to the great amusement of the only "help" for miles – the gulls hung low in silent, curious, hover overhead - the screams of surfer dudes when mixed with one part mermaid, half a brain and fathoms-full of H20 make every uttered word sound, simply, "Glub."
The Mermaid, suddenly alone, stopped circling and in the process, shut tight the lid on Steve Turnip’s unexpected swirling, watery, end. Ducking her head beneath the, now, becalmed and lapping waves to watch her love sink slowly fathoms deep into the murky and, then, pitch-black, depths, she waved and smiled and in her tinkling mermaid’s voice, sang down into vast, below:
"And how, my ‘knight’, my love, pray to tell - how do you like my ‘hole’?" The seagulls hanging low and overhead screamed happily and dove and soared and dove and soared again into the teeming multitude of tiny, silver, fry churned to the bright blue surface by the disappearing mermaid’s tail as it flipped and flopped and with a final splash sank straight and down and, finally, out of sight.