He opened his eyes.
He could see perfectly. The water was very clear, the bare white sand arrayed in ripples. His hair tendrilled in front of his face. He pulled forward with a long breaststroke, and the motion pushed his hair out of his eyes.
Victoria swam toward him, her stroke smooth and strong. Satoshi slid beneath him, nearly silent. Satoshi was close enough to touch Stephen Thomas, but he kept his arms close to his sides, streamlining his body. Victoria did touch Stephen Thomas, swimming past on the surface, stretching out her arm, stroking him against the direction of his fur from the back of his knee, up his thigh, across his buttocks, along his spine. He tensed, shuddered, relaxed. He kicked forward, rising beneath Victoria's hand, letting her fingers and the pressure of the water smooth his delicate pelt back into place.
When she swam beside him, he turned to face her. They sidestroked, slowed, and he caressed her. He wondered where Satoshi was. With the thought, Stephen Thomas found his partner treading water behind him in the faint, fuzzy sound picture of his surroundings.
Exhaling explosively as he surfaced, Stephen Thomas gasped in a deep breath and dove beneath Victoria. He touched and teased her, all over, with his fingers and his tongue. He slid his hands, his swimming webs, over her breasts. Her nipples hardened, their heat glowing. He could smell and taste her excitement, familiar, comforting, arousing, intensified by his changing senses. He listened for Satoshi; he opened his mouth
and let the sea water flow over his tongue. Satoshi hovered, near, yet out of reach, and the taste of his body in the water was cool, uninterested. Stephen Thomas blew his breath out in a stream of bubbles. Victoria touched his hand, then swam toward Satoshi. Stephen Thomas followed, kicking along easily beside her. lie touched her breasts again, stroked his fingertips down her body, and slid his hand between her legs. He let the rhythm of her kicking rub the swimming web against her clitoris. She gasped and pressed her legs together and lost her momentum. Stephen Thomas jerked his hand away, afraid he had hurt her with the strong, resilient edge of the web.
But Victoria grabbed his wrist.
"Yes," she said. "That's just right-it's like . . . like being made love to by a silk scarf."
They trod water together, face to face in the warm sea. Victoria embraced both men, drawing them to her and against each other, clasping Stephen Thomas's hand between her thighs. She kissed Satoshi, then Stephen Thomas, her tongue quick against his lips, sliding between his teeth, hesitating as if she had never kissed him before. Stephen Thomas tasted her, with new intensity.
The triad sank. Breath bubbled from Victoria's mouth, from her nose, tickling Stephen Thomas's lips and face. She pulled back and kicked to the surface.
"Let's go where it's shallower," she said. "I can't breathe underwater!"
She grinned and plunged toward shore, diving between Stephen Thomas and Satoshi.
Stephen Thomas followed her, pressing himself past Satoshi, letting the whole length of his body stroke his partner's belly. Stephen Thomas felt no arousal in him, no excitement.
Victoria stood chest-deep in the water. The fog was dissipating; it swirled around her like a wraith. Gentle waves covered her breasts, then exposed her again. She hugged Stephen Thomas and wrapped one leg around his hips. Satoshi swam up behind him and touched him, tentatively, sliding his fingertips over his shoulders.
Stephen Thomas gave himself to the seduction of the water and his lovers' desires and his own.
Suddenly Victoria cried out. She pulled away. Off balance, Stephen Thomas and Satoshi both splashed forward, submerged, and tumbled apart. Stephen Thomas gulped a mouthful of salt water and struggled to his feet, gasping and coughing.
"Stephen Thomas, oh, I'm sorry, I thought-"
She stopped and patted his back gently till he got his breath again.
"I can't breathe underwater, either," Stephen Thomas said. "Yet. What .
. . are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
"Oh-not really. Not exactly. When we started, it was wonderful, but then-" She glanced ruefully at Satoshi. "I guess you were right."
"Yeah," he said. "I guess so. Sorry."
They stood together, closer to shore, waist-deep in the water and nearly in full daylight. The fog had vanished with the breeze that chilled the air. Chagrined, Stephen Thomas shivered.
"Yeah," Victoria said. "It is cold." She sounded disappointed, but also amused. "Maybe we should go back home . . . back to bed."
"I just can't," Stephen Thomas said. "I've got to get to the lab." The last thing he felt like, right now, was sex. His penis hurt, and it had begun to itch and sting.
Great, he thought. Just fucking great. I can't do anything for the people I love, and now I've got a case of jock itch, too.
"Yesterday, with Zev and J.D.," Victoria said. "It was awfully nice." "Maybe divers have secret sex techniques," Stephen Thomas said, trying to joke. "Maybe I don't get to find them out till I'm completely changed. Maybe they're hard-wired."
"Maybe," Satoshi said dryly to Stephen Thomas, "Zev is smaller than you." He glanced at Victoria. "Is he?"
"I didn't notice," Victoria said lightly, and then, in
response to the skeptical glances of both her partners, she protested. "No, really. J.D. wanted to talk and Zev went on ahead. Then we were in the water. He liked . . . being touched quickly. You couldn't hold him, he'd slip away." She paused, thinking. "I never got a good look at him, eh? I certainly didn't say, 'Stand there while I look at you, Zev, and see how you measure up to my partners."'
They waded toward shore. Stephen Thomas was anxious to get out of the salt water. He hoped that then the stinging would stop.
"Good lord!" Satoshi exclaimed. "What happened--did you go face forward in the sand? You're all scraped-"
"No, I never hit bottom." Stephen Thomas looked down.
The blood drained out of his face.
The darkening skin on his penis had sloughed off, fading from its new deep tan to a sickly gray, hanging in flimsy strips, leaving the shaft angry-red, ugly.
Stephen Thomas knocked hard on J.D.'s door. No one answered. He banged his fist on the dense rock foam.
"Hey! Zev! "
He was about to be very rude and look through the open French windows when Zev opened the door. He saw Stephen Thomas and grinned.
"Hi-"
"Why didn't you reply to my message?"
"I'm sorry, I was busy."
"Busy!"
"Yes, J.D. and I were making love." Zev joined Stephen Thomas on the porch and closed the door. "Don't shout, she's sleeping."
"I need to talk to you!"
"Shh. Let's go for a walk."
He led Stephen Thomas through the wild garden, away from the house and the open windows of J.D.'s bedroom.
"Are your claws growing yet?" Zev looked at Stephen Thomas's feet.
Because of the bruising, it was hard to see what was happening to his toes.
"Yes, and they hurt like hell."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing! You're always apologizing to me.,,
"But what's happening to you, it's my fault."
"It's done. Stop feeling guilty, and tell me what I should expect."
Zev glanced over at him, curious, troubled.
"But you know what. You're turning into a diver."
"I want to know what's normal and what isn't." He turned to Zev, shouting again. "Is it supposed to hurt this bad? Is my skin supposed to peel off?"
Zev took a step away from him. "I'm sorry-"
Stephen Thomas flung up his hands in exasperation.