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according to the stories they told over their Sunday brunches. She could take or leave sex. Well, she’d rather take it than leave it, but it was normal for her to go months, if not years, between liaisons. Though it might be a bit odd, that was just the way she was.
    Every few months she would drive to South Humbolt, where she would spend the weekend with friends, then drive back in the wee hours to be in her office by eight o’clock Monday morning. She didn’t regret any of her decisions or how she chose to live her life. But the tingling between her legs as she watched the surf instructor was new and uncomfortable. She needed another drink and needed it bad.

    Colby couldn’t wait for the class to be over. The woman from last night and in the grocery store was lying half-naked on the beach in just about the same spot as she was when she first saw her. A few quick glances throughout the afternoon told Colby what she had suspected. The woman had been watching her again. As much as she wanted to go over and talk to her, she had three other sessions before her day was over. After that she was invited to Amelia’s house for dinner at five.
    She ate with a friend at least once a week, not necessarily because she needed the company. On the contrary, she enjoyed her solitude, breaking it when she needed to, not because society’s standards wouldn’t let her be a hermit. But the six women she had somehow become friends with didn’t let up, and after she finally gave in they rotated dinner duty. This week was Amelia’s night. The more she thought about it, the more annoyed she became. Amelia could talk the white off a picket fence, and Colby would have to make up some excuse to leave early. She wanted to come back to this spot tonight and see if the beautiful woman was here again.
    It was unusual to be so attuned to the stranger. Between their few words last night and not many more than that this morning at the grocery store, she felt the familiar pull of desire. She wasn’t looking for love or any kind of attachment. Anything more than three or four nights with a woman was definitely on her Do Not Do list. Obviously the woman was a guest at the resort. She had a checkout date with a life to get back to, which made her perfect. That and the fact that what Colby had seen of her body was stunning.
    She had just started the second lesson when the woman returned to her chair, a drink in each hand. Her hopes dropped slightly. If the woman was still here when she got back, hopefully she wouldn’t be drunk. She liked her women to be active participants in the event, not sloppy drunks who fumbled around in the dark. Worse yet, passed out in bed.
    One woman several months ago had done just that. The woman didn’t seem to have drunk too much during dinner or the hour they spent in the hotel bar. But only ten minutes into what Colby thought was a rather pleasant time between the sheets, the woman fell asleep. At first Colby couldn’t believe it. It was a first for her. Her ego was a bit bruised and she didn’t try to be quiet as she slid out of bed and looked for her clothes. But the woman was snoring so loud by the time Colby left, nothing would have woken her.

    The maître d’ in the restaurant remembered Elizabeth from the night before and didn’t bother to ask if she preferred a table outside. Elizabeth appreciated the hospitality and settled into one at the opposite end of the patio. She almost didn’t notice her waiter standing beside the table because she was looking toward the water for some sign of the surfer. The waiter had to repeat his question before she gave him her drink order, almost on automatic pilot.
    A wave of disappointment far more than she expected filled her when she saw no sign of the woman in the crashing waves. After a few more minutes of squinting at the shoreline she turned her attention to the menu. Forty-five minutes later, her dinner finished, she was drawn again to the ocean. Far different from