Page 33 of Hot Summer's Prey

Pacari searches around the cave—though I don’t know how he can see at all. It’s almost pitch black in here—moonlight doesn’t travel that far.

“I mean, if nothing else, you can go get the coast guard or something and they can figure out how to get me out. Honestly, you should probably just do that—”

A pretty loud splash interrupts me. Or maybe it’s more of a kerplunk—the sound of someone jumping into water from the back of the cave.

“Pacari?” I call out.

No answer.

Great. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

I’m definitely freaking out. “Pacari!?”

Putting a hand to the wall and stepping carefully, I walk carefully, stepping out slowly until I feel solid ground.

Until I don’t. As soon as I feel the hole, I pull back, sink to my knees, and reach forward until I’m there again. My hand dips low, making my stomach flip. I lower myself down until my hand touches water.

O-kay. So there’s at least a puddle here. But it sounded like he fell. How deep does this hole go? Is he stuck down there? Is he going to die trying to save me?

Bracing myself as well as I can against the simultaneously slippery and porous rock (yikes, does it hurt to put my knees on this), I bend lower and lower.

It’s way more than a puddle.

As I pull my hand back, something grabs it. I shriek. Whatever grabs me feels coarser than skin—like scales. I don’t stop screaming, pulling my arm back, until I hear Pacari’s voice.

“Shhh, shh, it’s okay, Teresa. It’s me. It’s me,” he soothes.

His voice is right next to me, and the next time I feel his hand, it feels like skin again. What is going on? Just a second ago—I could have sworn that wasn’t human skin grabbing me. Maybe he prunes easily—but pruned fingers don’t feel like that.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, pulling me close. “I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”

The proximity calms me, gets me to stop screaming—which apparently I was still doing. He kisses my cheek, my neck, my eyes, my forehead.

“You’re safe with me.”

I take a deep breath. He’s grounding me, after everything. Even though I still don’t have answers for why, I forgot what it was to be with him—when suddenly the memories feel so clear. No answers why I’ve found him naked on the beach three times now—

Wait.

Just now, when we first met… And…

I shake my head, trying to jostle the real memory of what his cock looks like. I saw it when we met. Perfectly human and perfectly human sized. Not… Not a giant monster of a thing somewhat reminiscent of a green geoduck. When I went to Japan for a dance gig, I remember how none of us could stop laughing at how phallic the shellfish looked.

This is such a dumb time to be thinking about Pacari’s cock—especially his weird fantasy cock that has to be some sort of dream I had and have effectively replaced the dream memory with the real memory. My memories about him are all sorts of fucked up, though I still can’t place why. I hate how he makes me feel like I’m having a mental breakdown.

His lips caress mine, dragging me out of my thoughts. His mouth feels different now, lips thicker and tongue more… Oh god, it feels so good when his tongue strokes along mine. Unreal. When he pulls away, I want to keep kissing, but he puts his forehead to mine, strokes my cheek with his thumb.

“You need to listen to me. I found a way out, but it’s dangerous. And I have—I have something that will make it less dangerous. You need to trust me. Please trust me that I will get you out of here in one piece.”

“Um, okay. What is it?”

“We’re going to swim out.”

I laugh. “I can’t hold my breath for more than like a minute. We’re good swimmers in my family, but I’m not a free diver, which apparently you are.”

He shakes his head. “I have something… it’ll help you breathe.”

“Yeah? You got a scuba tank up your ass?”

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