DID YOU KNOW?

Did you know black sand beaches were volcanic in origin? Here's an excerpt from Mayon which releases on Monday, November 19.



Excerpt

Kalayukai Beach was approximately eleven kilometers away from Legaspi City in the small town of Santo Domingo. John parked the jeepney on a grassy rise and gazed down at the fascinating black sand. He knew that the distinctive color was created by the natural erosion of volcanic rock, and had read about this phenomenon in journals, but he’d never seen it. The sand sparkled like mounds of blackened sugar and was just as smooth. Surprisingly, the long strip wasn’t littered with the detritus from sunken ships that still soiled many beaches throughout the islands. It would take several more years to rid the cities and countryside of the reminders of war, but this particular spot was pristine, almost virginal in its beauty, and a perfect spot for their getaway.

While one of the servants laid out the food in the shade underneath a cluster of coconut trees, the other helped Rosa construct a makeshift changing area with the strategic placement of blankets on low-lying branches. Stepping back to assess their efforts, Rosa nodded in satisfaction, assured that they would have a little privacy; only their heads and shoulders were visible.

John had worn shorts underneath his pants. It was a simple matter of stripping and folding his street clothes so they wouldn’t end up buried in the sand. Greg was always in shorts, so he’d brought an extra pair he could use after swimming.

The women’s choices of beach attire mirrored their personalities. The four older girls were in modest one-piece suits while Lily and Daisy had opted for the more daring two-piece ensembles. Petunia clutched a towel around her full-figured body, guarding her virtue from prying eyes. It was uncomfortable to be half naked in the presence of two men, especially John, who was still considered a stranger, but the appeal of swimming was far more powerful than her scruples. Daisy had no qualms about showing off her body and sauntered up to John with a playful glint in her eye. He whistled appreciatively, and she tugged him toward the water, urging him to join her. Resisting was futile, and John soon found himself thigh-high in frothy waves.

Daisy dove into one of them and began to swim out into deeper waters with confident strokes. “Hey, wait up,” he called, a little concerned that she’d go too far.

“Catch me if you can,” she said, throwing out the challenge before resuming her steady course.

“Impulsive girl,” he muttered, diving in after her. Eventually, he caught up and they swam side by side. The temperature of the water was perfect, and the tide seemed to be cooperating in their favor. There was no dangerous pull, so that was one worry he could eliminate. Now he just needed to keep up with Daisy, who was a surprisingly good swimmer. After a while, he could sense her lagging, and he gestured toward the shore. “Let’s head back,” he sputtered.

Nodding, Daisy turned around and headed toward land. They collapsed on the dark sand, sucking in mouthfuls of air, while the warm waves continued to lap at their prone bodies. “Christ,” John wheezed. “You gave me quite the workout. How come you’re such a good swimmer?”

“I love the ocean,” Daisy replied. “Papá taught me how to swim years ago, and I took to it like a mermaid.”

“You look like one,” John smiled, lifting his upper body and gazing down at her. She rolled over and stretched like a contented seal. Her dark hair was slicked back and the cotton fabric of her swimsuit was plastered to her skin, hardly disguising nipples standing out boldly against the bright red and white polka dots.

“I used to wish I could breathe underwater,” she mused, tucking her hands underneath her head. “In fact, I almost drowned myself trying to prove a point.”

John laughed out loud. “Did you actually inhale a lungful of water?”

“Almost,” she giggled. “It was a big disappointment.”

“I’ll bet,” John said, looking at her with amusement. “Have you always been so fanciful?”

“As long as I can remember,” Daisy said, sitting up. She raked her fingers through her wet hair, trying to subdue the long locks twirling around her face like the tentacles of an octopus. “What about you, John? Where did you learn how to swim?”

“The YMCA,” he replied. “Not quite as exotic as this.”

“What’s that?”

“It stands for Young Men’s Christian Association but most people call it the Y or YMCA. It’s an organization whose primary goal is to help and develop a healthy spirit, mind, and body in young men. They’re all over America, and most kids spend a lot of time there playing sports and learning other skills. Swimming is one of them.”

“We don’t have anything like that over here.”

“I’m pretty sure you have something similar in the big cities.”

She shrugged. “If we do, I’m not aware of them.” Her eyes zeroed in on the auburn curls that lay matted on his chest, and she reached out to touch him, drawn by the quantity of hair and the color. “My, you’re hairy.”

“Compared to everyone else around here, I must seem like a bear,” John said, thinking of Greg’s smooth chest.

“My father has some chest hair but it’s nothing like this,” Daisy mused, now twirling the soft curls around her fingers. “Are you red all over?”

Shocked by the question, John drew back. “Are you always this forward or is it just with me?”

“I’m curious,” she apologized. “I’ve never been with a redhead.”

“I assumed you hadn’t been with any man.”

“Of course I haven’t,” she answered quickly.

John shook his head, trying to get rid of the startlingly clear image of Daisy in a virginal white nightgown. “How the heck did we get on this topic?”

“You asked.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Greg interrupted, glaring down at both of them. He’d been watching them warily from his perch on the branch of a mango tree, and when Daisy reached out to touch John, he moved like a panther, jumping down gracefully and sprinting across the sand to claim his own. The hot flash of jealousy had a stranglehold but he resisted the urge to shove her hands away from John.

“It’s nothing,” John answered.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Greg accused, staring at the telltale signs of John’s interest.

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