Eroticy Story - Devil's Triangle

"THE WATCH FROM DEVIL'S TRIANGLE"

Ellen and I had been in the Bahamas for 3 days when we were sitting beneath a blue and white striped sunbrella at an outdoor lounge, talking with a couple who'd allowed us to join them at the last available table.

We were attired as typical tourists: they were in swim wear; I was wearing a flat Bahamian straw hat, aloha shirt and walking shorts, and Ellen was attired in a white sundress with a broad yellow ribbon tied into a headband around her black hair. Now, as Ellen laughed at a joke, the ribbon's long ends were flapping about in the warm breeze. It was difficult making conversation above the pounding surf and whistling wind.

Jeff, a brawny six-foot-plus with a booming voice, leaned across the table and asked, "You here in a boat?" His reddish hair was tousled by the breeze. His stunning blond wife, Virginia, was leaning back in a sun-chair, which squeaked as she fidgeted and appraised us.

"We flew over," I told him. Two years before, we'd been here in our twenty-foot boat. A troublesome storm convinced me I'd never take anyone else in a small craft, so this time we'd flown commercial, as we have each time since. "We're checked in at the hotel."

Jeff gulped his drink, gestured toward the distant docks, and murmured, "We're staying at the marina. They charge an arm and a leg to hook up to electricity over there. We're down here from Texas. Where you from?" When I told him, he responded, "Yeah, well your state's doing a lot better than mine.