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Then, always the English teacher, onomatopoeia called to me, drawing my eyes over the balcony and down to the flip-flops that echoed out of the apartment below.My breath caught; for four long, sun-kissed legs stretched from those flip flops. The two women’s languid strides took them towards the beach. Beneath the pinch of their waists, derrieres curved outwards, then turned inwards in a tight peachy circle.Though, on closer examination, one posterior was more like a firm upside-down heart, attractively fuller at the lower part of the hips.Between firm glutes, no doubt hardened by surfing on the boards they carried under their tattooed arms, ran wafer-thin slivers of material. Given I’m so insistent about clichés with students, the irony of thinking candy floss thongs wasn’t lost on me.Their long hair, one dirty-blond like mine, the other coal-black, spilt over their shoulders. And a fair way down their backs, enough for me to chastise myself, slapping my palm against my knee, when I. John waved and saluted as I slowly backed out of the slip. As soon as the boat was clear of the dock and other craft, I swung her gently around, to head down the channel that led to the Gulf. All of the electronics were on line, and appeared to be working correctly. We would do a radio check with the Coast Guard once we were out ten miles or so.Our plan was to head out into the Gulf, then south to sail between Cuba and Mexico. We would pass near the Cayman Islands, between Cuba and Jamaica, to the south of Hispaniola. We'd make landfall in the U.S. Virgin Islands. This would take a minimum of a week. The plan was to stay at sea, and not go ashore, if possible.It didn't take long to be free from land so we could raise sail, and be underway.During the morning, the girls formed some kind of agreement that they each would spend some time in the lounge, with the kids. The other two were either with me, or sunning themselves on the bow. We had a good wind, which sent us gliding through.
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