“Was I loud”?“Not so bad”.She made some drinks and handed me one. We laid in the sun for a while happy, content, not a care in the world. My c...ll phone rang, picking it up I saw Sara on the display. She is my cousin and a bitch but she was 21 and had a car. “Hello” sounding unsure. She replied in her bitch voice “Hello brat. Your mom just called me don’t you check your messages. She has been trying to call you. She will be out of town for a few more days then planned. She asked me to take you. “I never visited here.”“How are we going to find the lampades,” I asked as we flew past the ocean water crashing onto sandy beaches. I stared out at the dunes of the desert. “There’s just sand. Nothing but sand.”“They’re deeper in the desert,” said Mother Azuliana. “There are nomads who live out here who follow the oasis and caravans come from the gold mines of the mountains. That’s why there’s so much treasure in antlion nests.”The sun vanished. Night descended. The moonlight shone on the. On the other side stood a large machine that turned boxes into pulp, and some small, wooden stairs against it. The girl unbuttoned her jeans, leaned over them, and pulled down her pants, giving me the briefest of looks at her black thong before she pulled it down too. In no universe imaginable would I let this opportunity slip away. Even if I was married to a fairytale princess who was standing right behind me, I still would have done what I did: unbuckle my belt, pull my jeans and shorts down. I'd known she was a swimmer, and I knew what swimming entailed. And I'd seen her body-well, under a tee shirt and shorts, but I had an idea about her muscles. But I wasn't prepared for how she looked powering her way through the water. She was doing the backstroke, and she moved faster than I ever could've imagined. I'd seen swimming at the Olympics, of course, but seeing on TV didn't come close. Watching her backstroke through the water was like watching a motorboat-except this motorboat was.