The Mermaid Of Mercy Street Chapter 2 #TeaserTuesday

Sarah became my hobby over the next few weeks of summer, before I got arrested.

I moved my computer desk to the window overlooking her pool, and set the webcam to begin recording whenever it detected movement.

While she played there, I watched her, when she left, I watched the video.

Studied is a better word. I rationalized my spying as a rare chance to analyze the candid habits of the teenage female. I compared myself to Jane Goodall among the great apes of Zimbabwe, or wherever.

Each morning, she swam fifty laps in a black, competition-style one-piece bathing suit. She had at least two of these, one full-bottom and one french-cut, but I suspected there were at least a dozen at any given time in her wardrobe.

After breakfast, she came back out in a variation of the bikini, hat, sunglasses and heels outfit. I counted twenty-five different complete looks over the next three weeks. No component repeated, each perfect.

To maintain her ghostly pale complexion, she compulsively smeared prescription strength sunblock over every inch of exposed skin. I looked the brand up online. It listed for three-hundred a bottle at the cheapest exclusive retailer I could find. It boasted one hundred percent UV blockage through an opaque foundation, custom tinted to each patient's exact specifications.

We read "Highway Love" together. I kept pace while she lounged by the pool, and caught up on the rest of the series in my spare time.

I admit they amused me, and I even felt sympathy for the hapless heroines struggling in the sinister clutches of their unscrupulous lovers.

She entertained few visitors, and those that came never stayed long. Like her friends at the mall, they were all smiles to her face, and dirty sneers when she turned away. In their defense, she did the same.

My father paid me to keep up the lawn. It kept me fit and active and didn't involve teamwork, which I never quite got the hang of enough to play sports. One Friday afternoon while trimming the hedges near the fenceline her voice froze me in mid-snip. The muffled thump of electronic bass and sussurrus of vapid teenage girls giggling and gossipping wafted into our yard like the stench from the paper mill near our old house. Just as I'd focus on breathing out to keep from noticing the rotten wet smell of mulched wood pulp, I focused my mind on my task to keep the sound of the party from bothering me.

"Hi, neighbor," she said through a porthole in the ten foot high concrete wall. Her voice, so close, like a thick steak roasting on the grill. It turned annoyance and disgust into yearning, burning hunger and desire.

Her waving hand poked through the hole. I stared at it, panicked.

"It's polite to answer back when a pretty girl says hello," she said.

"Hello? You're talking to me?" I said.

"I'm not talking to Julio," she said. "He isn't here today."

"Julio?"

"Our gardener. Who does your lawn?" she said.

"I do," I said. "My dad pays me."

She laughed at me, and I lost myself in the music of her sound.

"Fine," she said. "Don't tell me. You probably dont want Daddy snatching him up."

"I'm available. I could use the money."

"Stop it! You are too funny," she laughed.

"Right," I said.

"Come over here so I can get a better look at ya."

She could have told me to impale myself on my hedge trimmers and I'd have agreed as easily.

"I thought so," she said.

I asked what she meant.

"You're that guy from the mall."

I considered playing dumb, but decided against it.

"Oh, that. Yeah. That was a performance piece I'm working on," I said.

"Performance," she said. "Right. La Cage Au Boner, I assume?"

I blushed and squirmed.

"You're adorable. Like some kind of cute retard," she said.

"I'm not a retard. I'm an honors student."

She laughed again. "My apologies, Mr. Honors Student."

I didn't say anything.

She slapped the concrete to break the silence. "Soooo, look, I need a little help with my car," she said.

"What kind of help?"

She said it wouldn't start, probably something simple.

I asked her why her Dad or the butler guy couldn't do it.

"I don't want him to know I broke it," she said. It sounded reasonable. She bit her lip and looked at the ground. I couldn't see her feet, but I'd put good money on her cute little toes scratching the back of her heel.

I told her I didn't know much about cars but I could take a look.

"Awesome, meet me out front in five minutes." she said.

She met me by a brand new, glossy black Mercedes Kompressor Convertible. I couldn't imagine anything wrong with it that I could fix, but she begged and pleaded and I couldn't refuse her. She knew that even before she asked me.

A quick peek at the steering collumn proved me wrong.

"You're trying to hotwire it?" I asked.

"Kinda," she said. "I can't find my key."

"Don't these take those laser keys or something?"

"Look, boner-boy can you fix it, or am I wasting my time with you?" Her eyes darted around, scanning the lawn impatiently.

"Yeah, I guess. Gimme a minute."

In the mess of wires I identified two thick white ones I figured were the ignition circuit. I pulled my Leatherman pocket tool out and stripped a little of the insulation off. A thick shower of sparks fell when I tapped them together, and the luxury coupe's engine roared to life. I bent the thick wires back out of the way so they wouldn't touch each other, or Sarah's legs while driving.

"Thats what I'm talking about, boy, let's ride."

"Don't you have a party or something going on?" I nodded at the two dozen other vehicles parked neatly on the front lawn, and the sounds of music and bullshit from the back yard.

"What do you think I'm escaping from?" she asked. "I can't stand those phony bitches."

I answered with a blank stare.

"Daddy always throws these end-of-summer things to 'kickstart my social life for the coming school year,' but everybody that shows just wants to take me down. Two-faced bitches and nutriders. I'm tired of it."

"I don't understand," I said.

"You ARE adorable, aren't you?" she said "Don't worry about the politics, we'll catch you up later, lets just go before they wonder why I'm taking so long in the bathroom."

She pulled out and headed south on Mercy Street. I didn't see her breathe until we caught the left at SR420, the route that bisected the Island on the way past the mall and out to the beach. At the foot of the first bridge, she popped a CD into the stereo and some electrophonic dance music by a band I didn't recognize filled the air, muffled by the rushing wind and spilling into the salty river air.

The zen monks talk about moments of bliss so pure the illusion of seperateness dissolves. A kind of minor enlightenment. The object of all the meditation and stupid koans was to get there and stay there as long as possible.

Riding in a new Mercedes convertible with the girl of my dreams over the long river bridges on a gorgeous central Florida summer afternoon, I felt as close as I'd ever get to that enlightenment.

"You're new, aren't you?" she asked.

"We've been here about three weeks, I guess."

"Where did you come from, Mayberry?" She teased me. Her hair billowed out behind her like the tail of a comet.

"Uh, no, I, I mean, we lived on the base before then."

"Oh, a military brat!" She laughed at me. "How cute."

I always thought you needed a knife to castrate a man, or at least a strong rubber band.

"My Dad isn't rich or anything, like yours, but..."

"But what? I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?"

"But nothin." I said. "Where we going?"

She looked at me for the first time since we got in the car.

"So you're sensitive, too," she said. She smiled at me. I felt uncomfortable and a fresh, warm wave of embarrassment washed over me.

"That's okay, Ben. I kinda like that. Strong, sweet, sensitive, silent type. I bet the girls on the base miss havin you around." She ran her fingers through my hair.

The girls on the base couldn't stand me. I never got the hang of how to talk to them. No matter how innocent I tried to make the conversation, I knew they could tell that, behind the smiles and social niceties, boiled a volcano of demonic lust. The pressure of holding back the truth, that I wanted to fall on them like a F5 tornado in a crepe-paper trailer park, escaped in fits and spurts and nervous shakes. Instead of looking like I had the palsy, I just shut down and ignored them, like a cool-ass zombie with better, more important things on my mind. They didn't buy it, but it made me feel better.

"Yeah," I told her. "They sure do miss me. You should keep your eyes on the road."

"Shit!" she said, swerving sharply back into her own lane to avoid rear-ending a slow-moving pickup truck. "That's a rush."

"You like living danger-" She cut me off by pulling the handbrake and turning the wheel hard to the right. The car slid and spun around onto a gravel access path that ran under the bridge. She released the handbrake and coasted down the gentle slope, coming to stop next to the waves lapping the concrete embankment.

"Not really," she said. "I just like living."

Sarah reached into her oversized bag again and pulled out a pack of those slim kind of cigarettes that girls who don't really like smoking, but like to be seen smoking always seem to have. She lit a skinny, hand-rolled cigarette with twisted ends. It didn't smell like tobacco.

"I didn't figure you for a pothead," I said.

"Takes the edge off." She passed me the joint and coughed up a kidney without letting any smoke escape.

I wondered what edge a beautiful, privileged girl like Sarah could need to take off, but pulled a deep toke off the joint without commenting.

"I love coming here," she said. "Everybody driving overhead, watching the concrete bend and shake, the waves coming in. You can see the wind in the water." She took the joint back and took another hit. "Sometimes you can see dolphins swim past."

I held the smoke in as long as I could and said "Dolphins", too loud, as my lungs exploded. I took another hit.

Sarah exhaled a thick cloud of blue smoke. "Yeah, and sometimes manatees, too. Not so much anymore, though."

We finished it in silence, she put the crumpled brown roach out in the ashtray when it was too short to hold without burning our fingers.

"One time, a dead manatee got caught up against the pylons, there. I came back every day to see how long it would take to dissapear."

"How long did it take?" I asked.

"About two weeks. I watched it bloat up, then the skin fell in on the bones and little pieces started falling off. A bunch of crabs ate most of the meat. Nothin but bones after the first couple days. Then the bones were gone." She looked me in the eyes as if revealing the name of the second shooter on the grassy knoll in Dallas. "Did you know that sailors used to think they were Mermaids?"

"Why would a sailor think he was a Mermaid?"

"No, I mean, they thought the manatees were Mermaids."

"Oh," I said. "That makes more sense. I think I did hear that before."

"They thought the mermaids wanted to trick them into drowning."

"I thought mermaids were suppossed to be nice," I said.

"Well, some people thought they just forgot sailors can't breathe water."

"I guess fish, or half fish, aren't that smart."

She looked at me like I'd called her Dad a nigger.

"They aren't stupid. They're just innocent."

Uncomfortable silence hung between us like a rotten albatross, stealing my breath. Rather than speak without thinking, I let it hang there.

"I want to go swimming," she said. She unbuttoned her blouse.

"I didn't bring any trunks," I said, nervous at the thought of seeming unprepared.

"I didn't bring my suit, either. Who cares?" she said.

She got out of the car and stripped to her bra and panties, her shoes kicked off to the side. She was less exposed than in her normal pool attire, but the intensity of being close enough to touch, instead of peeping from a distance, paralyzed me.

"Don't make me go alone, Ben, c'mon."

"I don't know if this is the best idea," I said.

"Don't be a chicken, the water is perfectly safe."

"Yeah, but isn't this illegal?" I asked.

"Are YOU gonna call the cops?"

"What? Me, no, of course not."

"Then how will they know? Live a little." She took off her bra and draped it over my head. A second later, her panties hit me in the face. Her skin writhed and glistened as she walked around the hood, put her hands on the passenger door and leaned over me, her breasts inches from my face. "You aren't taking your clothes off, Benny."

"I- I don't feel like swimming right now. Think I'm catching a cold." I folded my arms over my lap.

"What? Are you afraid I'm going to see your boner again?"

"I, uh, I mean..."

"Don't worry about that. I'd be a little offended if I didn't turn you on. Now stop being a wimp and come swim with me."

She turned around and sashayed towards the water. "We're not getting any younger," she said. She sat on the concrete embankement and dangled her feet in the tide.

Paralysis gripped me. After watching her nonstop for three weeks, seeing her naked, up close, and encouraging me to strip seemed unreal, some kind of dream, like seeing a movie star waiting in line for a driver's license. If I moved, I might wake up and it would be over.

"Wow. With as much as you spy on me, I figured you'd jump at the chance to get a little closer," she said.

Cold, dark, fear hit me like a dead fish. I felt vertigo, though I was sitting in a leather bucket seat, as if the floor of the car had dissappeared, leaving me dangling over the pits of hell.

"Spying? Me? I don't know what you're talking about."

She turned to look at me over her shoulder, "don't bullshit me, Benny. Clarence spotted you the day you moved in. It's okay, though, I don't mind. It kind of turns me on."

"Clarence?"

"The Butler guy," she said, looking back at the water. She eased herself into the choppy waves and grinned at me. "Now stop being a pansy and lose the clothes. It's my turn for a peep or two, perv boy."

With nothing to lose, my darkest secret exposed, I sighed and got out of the car.

I reached behind my neck and grabbed the collar of my T-shirt, pulling it up and over my head in one slow, smooth movement. A long time ago, I read an article that said this was the sexiest way for a man to get undressed. It didn't feel very sexy, but I figured I should work what I had as best I could.

"That's what I'm talkin bout, boy! Now lose the shorts," Sarah said.

As far as I know, there's no sexy way to take off a pair of denim shorts. I unbuttoned them and let them fall to the ground without ceremony, leaving my slide sandals under the pile.

I stood in a pair of gray boxer briefs, the kind that are cut like boxer shorts, but made from a flimsy, clingy, t-shirt like fabric, and I couldn't go any further. My erection throbbed, pressing against the thin cotton.

"What? You're gonna chicken out on me now?" she said. "What a pussy."

I didn't answer, just looked sheepish at the ground. She called me a pussy.

"I don't think I want to swim right now." I said.

"Too bad, you're swimming."

"Well, can I just leave my underwear on? I'd feel better about that."

"Not unless you wanna walk home. I'm not gonna let you ruin my leather seats with wet shorts."

"I don't want to get in trouble, Sarah," I said.

"In for a penny, in for a-. What was that?" she said. She looked around in the water, scared.

"What?" I asked.

"Something just nibbled on my leg. Shit! Help me up! Help!"

She dissapeared, as if something pulled her from behind. I moved without thinking, standing on the edge of the embankment. I couldn't see her anywhere in the murky water.

"Sarah!" I said. "Sa-rah!"

Sarah burst out of the water and grabbed my shorts by the hem. Laughing, she fell back down and took my underwear with her. I fell on my bare ass on the rough concrete.

"That wasn't fair. You had me worried," I said.

"Worried, shmurried. Now are you gonna get your naked ass in here or am I going to have to drag you?" She threw my soggy underwear at the car.

I eased into the water. "It's warm."

"Of course, the river is pretty shallow through here, and the sun keeps it warm as bath water."

"Makes sense," I said. "Now what?"

"Race you to the other side."

"Okay."

She pushed off the concrete and gained ten feet before I started to move. It didn't matter. She gained more distance and hit the opposite bank a good twenty feet ahead of me.

I arrived out of breath. "You, cheated," I said. I threw my elbows up on the concrete, with my back to the wall.

"So tell the judges," she said. "I paid off the Russians, anyhow." She floated on her back with her hair spreading around like the tentacles of a man o'war.

"Are you always this much of a smartass, or are you just trying to impress me?"

"Why should I have to try to impress you? You've got the game twisted. You're suppossed to be impressing me."

She drifted towards me until her face bumped me in the chest, the tendrils of her hair tickled my belly. "Aren't you already impressed?"

I considered her naked body, floating and bobbing on the waves. Her young breasts still developing, pointing straight up and not sliding down into her armpit, tight, smooth muscles of her belly leading my eye to the soft auburn triangle of close-trimmed hair defining her crotch. I felt my erection return with a surge of lust.

"I'm very impressed," I said, cool as a penguin's nuts.

"Then kiss me, unless you're too afraid."

She stared at me, expressionless, motionless, daring me to refuse. My heart felt like a timpani, each beat reverberating through my body, shaking my bones. I put one arm under her head and wrapped the other around her floating body, sliding down the concrete, and touched my lips to hers.

The world dimmed. The water, waves, boats puttering past in the river, seagulls, the steady thrumm of the cars driving overhead all faded as if they were shadows existing on the other side of a bubble of smoked glass.

Sarah righted herself, and threw her arms around my neck. I felt a hot slickness against the underside of my throbbing penis.

"Sarah?" I said.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a loud, deep voice with a thick vein of mockery interrupted our reverie.

"I hope I'm not disturbin' ya'll," it said.

We looked up into the amused eyes of Deputy Sheriff Smucker. He had two beige wool blankets in his left hand.

"I'm gonna need ya'll to get up here and answer a couple questions about that car over there," he said.