Darkest Instinct

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The powerful beam from the Cape Florida Lighthouse came some distance over the water, once a beacon of warning to sailors, now just for show. Still, it told Tammy that they had sailed out to the tip end of Biscayne Bay and were fast approaching the open sea. Tammy Sue Sheppard watched the light as she would a star, watched it blink on and off, on and off, on and off again, actually going around in a circular motion, spinning, like her head, racing like her pulse when he took her in his arms.

Patrick smelled of a tangy, spicy aftershave here in the ocean breeze. He’d been so attentive, and now he was tantalizing her with his gentle caress, the soft touch of his tongue in her ear as they danced again about the deck of the beautiful, large sailboat. It was better than any schoolgirl’s dream.

He now gently asked her patience as he returned to the controls and paused the ship here at the southern tip of Biscayne Bay, skirting the northern tier of the famous underwater Biscayne National Park, where coral reefs and sunken ships beckoned thousands upon thousands of recreational divers each year. But all that activity, even by night, was far to the south. The area around Cape Florida Lighthouse Point was long since deserted, save for a handful of passing boats, each with its own running lights reflecting off the water ahead of them, each mirroring in Tammy’s mind the image of how she and Patrick’s boat must look from across the bay aboard these other ships.

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