Rope and Veil Pt. 02

I was humbled. Amelia was right - it always got easier. I mean, look at her.

"You know, that point break out there is one of the best on the whole coast."

Amelia pointed towards the headland, maybe half a kilometre or so away to the south.

"When the big southerlies are blowing, I've seen guys ride a wave all the way in. The waves build up as they come around the headland, and then break all the way along those rocks. I never did it when I was a girl, I was too small. Even I knew mum was right when she said, 'Amelia, you can't do that. Wait till you're older.' But I never did it."

She was wistful, sitting there propped against my body, looking out to sea. She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Take me back to the house. I need to look after you, don't I? My poor Alex."

I wasn't arguing with Amelia. I'd been spooked out there in the surf, and I wanted to forget. Amelia would look after me but in doing so, she'd always remember what in her was gone. Fuck. That's not right.

That night Amelia was nervous and edgy for some reason, and I was still spooked and shaken by what had happened out in the surf. Sex was the furthest thing from our minds, but love wasn't. I felt small like a child, with my head cradled to her breast. Amelia's soothing fingers ran through my hair, caressing me to sleep. During the night I reached for her warmth, each time I woke. She was there, each time I reached for her, warm beside me like some wild animal, coiled and alert.

In the morning I woke after Amelia, vaguely conscious of her movements around the small cottage we were staying in, followed by a silence. When I finally stirred, I saw that she had left me a note: Gone to the cafe for breakfast. Join me there.

Up in the small shopping centre I found her sitting at an outside table at our favourite cafe, talking excitedly to a fit looking guy, tanned and tall.

"Alex, I can do it. This is Sam, he can help me. I can do it."

Excitement was in her voice and in every movement of her talking hands, even if I had no idea what she was on about.

"What are you on about, Amelia? What can you do? Hi, Sam, good to meet you. I'm Alex." I laughed, "sometimes Amelia tells me what's going on."

"Hey man, surfing, we're talking surfing. Amelia saw me with the board, and we started chatting. I was telling her that I'd been surfing the headland break. Man, that's one of the best rides. She told me how she's always wanted to surf it, from when she was a grommet."

Amelia gripped my hand. "We reckon we can do it, Alex. Sam and I can surf it."

I was finally cottoning on to their conversation, and could see why Amelia was so excited.

"How can you surf it, Amelia? You can't stand on the board."

"I don't need to stand. Sam can stand, I just have to hang on!"

She proceeded to tell me her idea, which sounded crazy.

"Can you do it, Sam, is it possible?"

"It sure is. Man, Amelia so wants to do it. I'm willing."

That was that, then. The will to do it had been mentioned, and when it came to will, Amelia was the expert. You didn't raise doubts when Amelia decided she wanted something. We chatted some more, then Sam got up to go.

"I'll get some shit organised," he said. "I'll call you guys. Keep an eye on the forecasts. We'll need a good southerly to push the break around the corner."

After he went Amelia talked it all through once more. She wasn't trying to convince me, she was convincing herself.

As we chatted, the cafe filled up with the morning rush, the noise rising and the waiters hurrying. I felt a touch on my arm, and there beside me stood a young girl, holding the hand of an old woman.

"Can we share your table, please? The whole place is full, except here."

"Of course you can," Amelia replied. "Please, join us."

"Here Granny, we can sit here with these people. Can you manage?"

"Bless you, child. You're a treasure for your old Gran. Yes, just put my hand on the back of the chair, I'll be fine then."

I looked up at the old woman's face, and realised she was blind. She was old, very old, her dark skin wrinkled, and her face showed a hard life, long lived. Her gnarled, arthritic hand skimmed the back of the chair, sensing its direction and shape. With a surprising grace, for she was a big woman, she swung her body to the seat and positioned herself. She was almost regal sitting there with her body straight, both gnarled hands resting on the pommel of a carved stick.

"Thank you for letting us join you. Please, don't let us interrupt you."

"No, no, it's fine. There's room for all of us." Amelia was always willing to share what she had, her generosity of spirit most of all.

The waiter came by and took the couple's order, and we asked for two more coffees for ourselves. Once the drinks were in front of us, I noticed the little girl was whispering in her grandmother's ear, while all the time gazing at Amelia. People did that with Amelia, adults tending to see the wheelchair with a person in it; the kids seeing the young woman with the colourful hair and the bright red lips.

"Is the lady beautiful, child? You know I can't see. I'm sure she is. Her voice is beautiful, I can hear that for sure."

Amelia glanced at me, and squeezed my hand with that gentle pressure that always signalled one of her reveries, the way she always arrived at a moment.

"Would you like to see my face?" she asked the old woman, facing her directly so there would be no doubt who she was talking to.

"My girl says you're beautiful, so yes, if I may, I would be honoured to see you. I love beauty. I surround myself with it, wherever I can."

The little girl gazed at her grandmother as she said this, and her smile was radiant. Her young freshness was clearly part of the old woman's beautiful world.

Amelia moved herself closer to the old woman and took one of her gnarled hands in hers, placing it in her own open palm so the older woman could sense her position. Amelia glanced across at me and, with a silence in her eyes, mouthed the words, "it's OK."

Amelia sat with her arms resting on the table. The old woman lightly touched her fingers over the palms of Amelia's up-turned hands, tracing the shape of her long fingers. Slowly she moved her gnarled fingers up the younger woman's fore-arms and over her biceps.

"You've got some strength in those arms, girl," she said, her voice low with a slight quiver to it.

"Yes, I'm in wheelchair, my arms are strong."

"A long time ago then," the old woman murmured. How could she sense the years of Amelia's strength, just from feeling her muscle? Her fingers moved slowly up from Amelia's shoulders to the long line of her neck. I could see the woman exploring every part of my woman's throat, her fingers the most gentle trace.

"Ah, there's a pride in you, lass. I can feel it in the way you hold your head. High and proud. You're like my own daughter, this little one's mother, she's a strong woman too. Needs a strong man, that one, to match her." She laughed. "She finds them, my Clio. You got a strong man, lass?"

Amelia looked at me, her eyes soft.

"Yes, I think I've got a strong man. He puts up with me, anyway."

The old woman's fingers were a caress on Amelia's face, a gentle movement up the side of her cheeks to her temples. I could see her tracing the creases at the sides of Amelia's eyes, feeling the smile there.

"Ah girl, you've a joy on your face, I feel it from your eyes. That man of yours, he loves you and there's joy for you?"

Surprised, I saw Amelia's eyes glisten. There were few tears with Amelia, but somehow this old woman tracing her beauty was summoning them. Amelia reached out her hand to find mine, and she clutched it, hard.

"Oh lass, don't cry just because an old woman sees your love. You cry when the love goes, not now, lass, not now."

Amelia gripped my hand again, harder this time.

Then the woman cupped my Amelia's face in the palms of her hands and lightly traced the shape of her whole face and then her whole head with those caring hands. She paused as her fingers ran over the scars on the side of Amelia's head. The old woman didn't say a word, but held her hand there for a moment, as if feeling the reminder of Amelia's pain, long ago.

"My little girl is right. There's a beauty in you, girl." She patted Amelia's arm. "It's not just the outside, either. You've a beauty inside you, girl. Thank you for letting an old lady see."

Amelia took the woman's hands in hers and squeezed them tightly.

"I don't think anyone has looked at me as closely as you did just then," Amelia said, her voice soft. "I felt so open to you, your fingers traced my skin with a tenderness I've not felt before, I felt so open. So loved."

"Ah girl, that's because this old lady lost her eyes, but not her sight. Folk with eyes think they can see, but they don't feel so much. My finger tips, they feel deep. 'Specially, girl, with someone like you who is layers on layers deep. Bless you girl, I don't see beauty like yours much nowsadays. What's your name lass, would you share that with an old woman?"

"I'm Amelia. That's who I am. Amelia."

The old woman reached down and gathered her woven bag into her hands.

"Bless you, Amelia, for sharing your name. A name's a powerful thing."

She gave one last touch to Amelia's cheek, ever such a gentle touch, her fingers ever so light on her skin.

"That man of yours, has he seen you close? Teach him how, lass, teach him how to see. He'll never forget if he sees you deep, really deep."

I heard the old woman's words, but I felt I had missed out on something here. Something had gone between the two women, that was clear, but some of that thing had passed me by. Was this what they called women's business, a deep secret story that only women knew? Amelia would tell me later, if I asked; and if she could tell.

"Come child, say goodbye to Amelia. Your eyes see true, pet. She is a beauty, ah yes, isn't she just." It was as if the old lady was talking to herself now.

The little girl looked at both of us sitting there, Amelia and I, and she smiled. In that moment, we were both blessed by the girl's radiance, her broad grin.

"Goodness, those two were a presence, weren't they?" Amelia commented, once they had gone.

"What was it like, when she touched you like that? I've never seen that before, such gentleness."

Amelia touched her own cheek with the tips of her fingers. She closed her eyes, then reached out and touched my face, so gently. Amelia's touch on my skin was often delicate, gentle, a butterfly's kiss, a linger. But this time, it was a stillness. She nodded, slowly, just once, and whispered, "I think I see it. If I close my eyes, I'll see you better. I just need to focus more."

She looked at me with her frank, open gaze, her eyes wide. "Later, Alex, when it's dark. We can look at each other then. I think I get what she was saying to me. Later."

We spent the rest of the day between the house, the sea and the beach. Out in the lagoon Amelia wrapped her hand around me again, holding my hardness lightly, teasing me with her ebb and flow. Her kisses were deep and her salty mouth warm, her tight tongue probing my lips. She didn't insist on riding the surf, and I was relieved. She was more confident than I in the water. City boy was right, calm water and an olympic pool were more my style. She loved the water, it made her body weightless.

Early that evening Sam rang. "Gaffer tape and a fisherman's knife, that's what you'll need. Tomorrow or the day after, maybe, if the forecasts are right. I've got an inflatable, and a wet suit that will fit Amelia."

It was on then. Amelia's ride.

-- ooo OOO ooo --

Two days later we were out in the inflatable boat, out by the headland. We were in open water, the boat regularly rising up and down, the horizon swaying. To the east, out to sea, there was the long haul of the Pacific, white capped out to the horizon. In towards the long beach, the rock covered run of the headland break was dark gray and wet, gulls rising from the shore. As Sam had predicted, the swell was turning on the headland and running a long surging break down the rocks, in towards the lagoon.

Each wave would roll down the shore, with a breaking front maybe twenty to twenty-five metres wide. As always with the ocean, every sixth or seventh swell was higher, more powerful. The idea was to catch one of the bigger swells, and ride it as far as it went.

Amelia was pumped, her colour high and excited. She was slinked into a tight wetsuit, the tight cleavage of her high breasts curving delectably, the suit's zipper nestled between. Looking at her, curved in black, her long legs slender, I felt my own excited weight in the base of my belly, and my cock filled against the cold. Not enough to be obvious, just enough to remind me.

Sam was also clad in a full length wet suit, an essential part of the plan. He kneeled and got his balance in the shifting craft. Amelia pressed herself to Sam's back, and held herself close to his solid, muscled body. I felt a momentary twinge of jealousy. Fuck, why didn't I surf? I had to let someone else give Amelia this thrill, because I couldn't do it. Damn, I couldn't always be Amelia's man. That's not right.

But this was for Amelia, not me, so I grabbed the roll of gaffer tape and bound them together at the waist, Amelia's crotch tight against the tight muscle of Sam's ass. Amelia's arms and upper body were strong, so it wouldn't be a problem for her to hold herself high on Sam's back, her arms gripped tight to his chest. Her legs though, couldn't flow loose, so I lifted first one leg high and ran a circle of tape around her calf and strapped it to the lower part of his thigh, and then the other. We'd figured out the best way to do this on dry land, sorting out their geometries, sorting out how to fit their bodies together, tight.

"Just as well I don't mind being bound," Amelia grinned, her eyes sparkling at me.

"Did I miss something?" Sam asked, unable to see the flushed face of the woman on his back, this woman so alive. Amelia, so alive.

"Never mind that," she scolded, "that's not for you to worry about."

Amelia reached to touch my face, closing her eyes as she did so. Her finger tips traced a gentle path down my cheek and finished on my kissed lips. She tapped her fingers on my lips twice (and I flashed back instantly to those first days, "what, you've never seen a woman with bright red lips before?"). Then, in just as quick a flash, I saw the arthritic hands of the old woman in the cafe, sensing the love in Amelia's face, seeing the woman I loved.

"Let's do this," she said, holding her head high. "Are you ready, Sam?"

"Yes, I'm good, Alex has tied us together well. You ain't going anywhere I'm not going."

"Fuck that," Amelia laughed. "If we come off the damned board, I'm not gonna depend on your feeble arms to get me clear. Alex, where's the knife?"

Now it was my turn to smile. Sam's biceps were solid, thicker than her thighs, but still she was going to rely on herself, her own will, first. I slid the knife, blade out, between the gaffer tape and their bodies. If Sam lost his balance on the board and they fell, Amelia could grab the knife, cut the tape, and free herself. I'd then ride in behind the break in the inflatable and pull her in to safety. Sam would follow his board, no different to a dump on any wave.

Only this time, if it happened and the world tumbled, Amelia had to cut herself free, first. Christ, when she was young she'd cut herself because she couldn't depend on life. Now, when her life might depend on it, she'd have to cut herself free again. I'd thought everything was in free fall with Amelia, but maybe it was all in circles.

I gripped her face in my hands, and kissed her on the lips, hard. Sam wasn't between us for those three short seconds, he wasn't there. You do this, Amelia, I thought, you do this.

Then he was there, reaching for the board that was stowed at the front of the boat. Amelia clung, her black clad body wrapped around his back, silver stripes wrapping her limbs to his.

"Fuuuck, I must be mad," her voice was a shout, a victory from the start. "Let's do this, no wave is going to stop me now. I'm the fucking dolphin queen..."

They fell onto the board.

"...on a fucking turtle's back!"

This was insane, crazy, but there wasn't time to be crazy. I took control of the boat, pulling them closer into the breaking surf. It was up to Sam to judge the timing of the waves, up to him when to release the rope. For a short moment Amelia wasn't going to be in control.

Then I realised, yes she was. Sam was her turtle just as I was her Alex. Amelia was always in control, this fisher of men. She'd set her will to this ride, and both us men were running hard to keep up.

"I can do this!"

Her voice was high and firm, challenging the sea. She had a strong man between her thighs, and with Amelia, that's often enough. I wished he was me.

Sam threw back the rope and I peeled the boat away behind them, giving them space so they could catch the rhythm of the sea. As I accelerated the boat away my cock was hard and full with Amelia's excitement. She was going to ride a long wave with a powerful man, and I was going to watch her do it.

Fuck, I didn't expect this reaction from my body. Her intensity was contagious. I wasn't jealous any more, I was there in Amelia's moment because I could see her. I knew what it was like to have Amelia wrap herself around my body and me around hers, so I could feel her. In this moment, in this long haul of surf and surging speed, I could be her. Amelia, queen of the sea, Thetis unbound.

I accelerated the boat away from the shore and ran parallel with them as they hunted for the perfect long wave. I looked back and could see Sam paddling for the best place to catch the breaking surf.

Out there, the waves were building up to a height of maybe two, two and a half metres nearest the shore, and then they would roll perfectly down their own slope, white water surging at a diagonal as the break ran fast along the shore. If they caught the wave as close to the rocky shore as they dared, and then surfed down away from the land's edge, the wave would continue at an angle, breaking on for several hundred metres. A hell of a ride, if the sea was right.

I could see that Sam was watching the cyclic rhythm of the ocean, waiting for the higher body of swell, the slightly longer trough. Amelia's red flame of hair was like a beacon. I saw Sam dig his arms deep into the water beside their board, saw him turn his head back once, and saw the red beacon dip, once. Even from a distance, I could see Amelia tighten herself around him, gripping Sam's body firm and hard. Here we go, he must have said. Fuck yes, she must have replied. My cock throbbed in a silent response.

Sam was paddling hard now, and behind him a long, powerful mass of water was building up high like a huge curved, translucent wall. I felt a surge beneath the boat as it too rose onto the higher weight of the sea. This was a big one.

His timing was brilliant. Sam matched the speed of the board perfectly with the incoming mass of water, positioning the board with their black clad bodies right at the top of the water's slope, just as the tip of the wave fell forward onto itself. My heart leapt into my mouth as I saw Sam get to his feet and quickly find his balance, hunching low on the board. Once on his feet Sam was able to steer the board smoothly along the curling, surging push of the wave, dropping away forever but always onto the water.

On his back I saw Amelia hold herself high, her body perfectly in line with his, matching Sam's balance and stance as if they were one creature. Over the crash of the waves I heard her high yell, "fuck, Sam, yes whooo hoo" and the ride was on. Their speed was amazing, not only did they have the speed of the board along the face of the wave, they also had the power of the long swell behind them, pushing them fast along the shore. The nose of the boat rose as I hit more throttle to keep up with them.