A tale of the lone and the lonely.


Drinking and Swimming

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Most days the pair drank on her bench and staggered back to her house.  One day when I noticed they were no longer on the bench but had not passed my office I wandered down to the shore.  It was a cooler evening and the beach was deserted, just the two of them sitting passing the bottle between them.  I stood for a while watching. 

I was about to turn to go back home when Bevin suddenly stood, stripped off his shirt, his shoes, his trousers, his underwear.  Everything.  

Naked he stood talking to her before turning to the water and diving in.

He called, cajolled, dared her to join him. He shouted there was no one on the beach, the water was great.  

His calls carried faintly to where I was on the dunes.  To the little knoll I had settled behind in anticipation of seeing her disrobe.

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He dived under the water and started swimming away from shore and she took the opportunity to strip off her dress and her boots and shoes.  She ran into the water only in her knickers, she was not wearing a bra.

She dived and swam, near Bevin but not too near.


Bevin relaxes on the beach, dresses, sits, lies.

Swiming alone, erotic, exotic imagery

Swimming alone in smaller and smaller pictures, further and futher away

The old fox in the dues worries about what is happening out in the bay, clocks or lottery, or roulette.

She gets out and collapses on the beach, exhausted

He wraps her dress about her exhausted naked form

He carries her

He carries her all the way home, probably in multiple pictures, perhaps with the fox watching


The Bench

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