The burble of the slow-running creek became louder as the path meandered closer, and the water chuckled over the smooth stones, exerting little effort...in the late day warmth.After a while, the path curved away from the water again, and the overhanging trees became denser, and blocked out more of the light. The dim path was romantic rather than spooky, and the warmth permeated even this part of the walk, pushing the cool air out, and settling lazily around them.The couple had been here before,. So, I parked myself a few rows up and watched. There were a number of people swimming, but I picked her out immediately.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. More

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