the beach. No surf beating against your back nor salt stinging your eyes. It was like a 
swimming pool created for the four of them only; an idyll that no one else in the Grove 
had access to.
  Trudi was the strongest swimmer of the quartet, and it was she who headed from the 
shore with the greatest vigor, discovering, as she went, that contrary to expectation the 
water was getting deeper all the time. It must have gathered where the ground dipped 
naturally, she reasoned, perhaps even in a place where there'd once been a small lake, 
though she could remember no such spot from her ramblings with Sam. The grass had now 
gone from beneath her toes, which brushed instead bare rock.
  "Don't go too far," Joyce called to her.
  She turned. The shore was further than she'd estimated, the glaze of water in her eyes 
reducing her friends to three pink blurs, one blonde, two brunettes, half submerged in 
the same sweet-tasting element as she. It would be impossible to keep this fragment of 
Eden to themselves unfortunately. Arleen would be bound to talk about it. By evening the 
secret would be out. By tomorrow, thronged. They'd better make the most of their privacy. 
So thinking, she struck out for the middle of the lake.
  Ten yards closer to shore, sculling along on her back in water no more than navel-deep, 
Joyce watched Arleen at the lake's edge, stooping to splash her belly and breasts. A 
spasm of envy for her friend's beauty went through her. No wonder the Randy Krentzmans of 
the world went gaga at the sight of her. She found herself wondering what it would be 
like to stroke Arleen's hair, the way a boy would, or kiss her breasts, or her lips. The 
idea possessed her so suddenly and so forcibly she lost her balance in the water, and 
swallowed a mouthful as she tried to right herself. Once she had, she turned her back on 
Arleen, and with a splashing stroke headed into deeper waters.
  Up ahead Trudi was shouting something to her.
  "What did you say?" Joyce yelled back, subduing her stroke so as to hear better.
  Trudi was laughing. "Warm!" she said, splashing around, "it's warm out here!"
  "Are you kidding?"
  "Come and feel!" Trudi replied.
  Joyce began to swim out to where Trudi was treading water, but her friend was already 
turning from her to follow the call-of the warmth. Joyce could not resist glancing back 
at Arleen. She had finally deigned to join the swimming party, immersing herself till her 
long hair spread around her neck like a golden collar, then starting an even-paced stroke 
towards the center of the lake. Joyce felt something close to fear at the thought of 
Arleen's proximity. She wanted some leavening company.
  "Carolyn!" she called. "Are you coming?"
  Carolyn shook her head.
  "It's warmer out here," Joyce promised.
  "I don't believe you."
  "Really it is!" Trudi shouted. "It's beautiful!"
  Carolyn seemed to relent, and began to splash her way in Trudi's wake.
  Trudi swam on a few more yards. The water was not getting any warmer, but it was 
becoming more agitated, bubbling up around her like a Jacuzzi. Suddenly unnerved she 
tried to touch bottom, but the ground had gone from beneath her. Mere yards behind her 
the water had been at most four and a half feet deep; now her toes didn't even graze 
solid earth. The ground must have slid away violently, at almost the same spot that the 
warm current had appeared. Taking courage from the fact that three strokes would take her 
back to safety she ducked her head below the water.
  Though her eyes were bad at a distance her short-range sight was good, and the water 
was clear. She could see down the length of her body to her pedalling feet. Beyond them, 
solid darkness. The ground had simply vanished. Shock made her gasp. She breathed water 
in through her nose. Spluttering and flailing she threw her head up to snatch some air.
  Joyce was yelling to her.
  "Trudi? What's wrong? Trudi?"
  She tried to form some words of warning, but a primal terror had seized her: all she 
could do was throw herself in the direction of the shore, her panic merely churning the 
water to fresh and choking frenzy. Darkness below, and something warm there, waiting to 
pull me down.
  In his hiding place on the shore William Witt saw the girl struggling. Her panic made 
him lose his erection. Something odd was happening out on the lake. He could see darts on 
the water's surface, circling Trudi Katz, like fish that were only just submerged. Some 
were breaking off and sliding towards the other girls. He didn't dare cry out. If he did 
they'd know he'd been spying on them. All he could do was watch with mounting trepidation 
as the events in the lake unfolded.
  Joyce felt the warmth next. It ran over her skin and inside her too, like a swallow of 
Christmas brandy, coating her innards. The sensation distracted her from Trudi's 
splashing, and indeed from her own jeopardy. She watched the darting water, and the 
bubbles breaking the surface all around her, popping like lava, slow and thick, with an 
odd detachment. Even when she tried to touch bottom, and couldn't, the thought that she 
might drown was a casual one. There were more important feelings. One, that the air 
breaking from the bubbles around her was the lake's breath, and breathing it was like 
kissing the lake. Two, that Arleen would be swimming this way very soon, the golden 
collar of hair floating in the water behind her. Seduced by the pleasure of the warm 
water, she didn't forbid herself the thoughts she'd turned her back on mere moments 
before. Here they were, she and Arleen, buoyed up in the same body of sweet water, 
getting closer and closer to each other, while the element between them carried the 
echoes of their every motion back and forth. Perhaps they would dissolve in the water, 
their bodies become fluid, until they mingled in the lake. She and Arleen, one mixture, 
released from any need for shame; beyond sex into blissful singularity.
  The possibility was too exquisite to be postponed a moment longer. She threw her arms 
above her head and let herself sink. The spell of the lake, however, powerful as it was, 
couldn't quite discipline the animal panic that rose in her as the water closed over her 
head. Without her willing it, her body began to resist the pact she'd made with the 
water. She began to struggle wildly, reaching up to the surface as if to snatch a 
handhold of air.
  Both Arleen and Trudi saw Joyce go under. Arleen instantly went to her aid, shouting as 
she swam. Her agitation was matched by the water around her. Bubbles rose on all sides. 
She felt their passage, like hands brushing her belly, her breasts and between her legs. 
At their caress the same dreaminess that had caught Joyce, and had now subdued Trudi's 
panic, took hold of her. There was no specific object of desire to carry her under, 
however. Joyce was conjuring the image of Randy Krentzman (who else?) but for Arleen her 
seducer was a crazy quilt of famous faces. Dean's cheekbones, Sinatra's eyes, Brando's 
sneer. She succumbed to this patchwork the same way Joyce and, a few yards from her 
Trudi, had. She threw up her arms and let the waters take. her.
  From the safety of the shallows Carolyn watched the behavior of her friends, appalled. 
Seeing Joyce go under she'd assumed there was something in the water, dragging her down. 
But the behavior of Arleen and Trudi gave the lie to that. She witnessed them plainly 
giving up. Nor was this simple suicide. She'd been close enough to Arleen to observe a 
look of pleasure crossing that beautiful face before it sank. She'd even smiled! Smiled, 
then let herself go.