The upside-down expanse of sea stretches out indefinately, a ribbon of teal filling the sky to the horizon. She wonders why this blue is different from the blue of California, how the frothy emulsion of color makes landfall in its own distinct hue.
The edge and recede of breakers below lends synchronicity to the mouthing crawl between her thighs. Her fist, anchored in the sheets, encounters his arm, plying her legs open, stretched taught and sun-kissed.
The work he does casts her adrift, treading and shivering before the plunge, ensconced by the lapping that rocks her. The swift rhythm makes her head heavy and full; she can hear the echoing thud of her pulse beating in her temples as the blood rushes tempestuously about, scattered and surging in its descent downward.
Neck bared and head lolling, her face pinkens, the golden wall of her hair brushing the tiled floor. There's a catch, a groan, air hissing through teeth when he hitches inside her, a backward step that hurtles her off balance. She holds her breath when the cascade comes. Thrashed in the rolling breakers, she drifts toward the blue she knows best; Spike's arms her quiet shoal amidst the warring current.