"Ready when you are, oh capable instructor," Mike intoned in mock seriousness, knowing that he had not been so serious about anything in recent memory. "I'm in your hands." And he said it more deeply than he might have imagined.
"It's been a long time since you had one of these on your back, I guess." Gary untangled the backpack straps, lifted the 72 cubic foot black steel tank to shoulder level, and expected Mike to back into it. Though it had been at least those umpteen years since Mike's high school scuba class, he knew exactly what to do...like riding a bike, he thought...and fastened the straps over his shoulders and around his waist. "Feels as heavy as I remember," Mike recollected. As Mike got used to the imbalance that he knew would disappear in the water, Gary deftly slipped into his own tank, like the consummate professional that he was.
"OK. Now for the regulators. Bet you've never worn anything like this," Gary observed as he brought two professional full-face masks out of the trunk, an all-black EXO-26 and a ScubaPro. Gary looked like Hercules who'd just slain the Medusa and stood proud before Mike with the trophies of tangled rubber hoses and straps, black-and-chrome, that caused Mike to breathe a little more self-consciously. What was that unusual feeling in the pit of his stomach? "You're sure right about that," was Mike's only reply.
"These masks are going to let us do something that your high school scuba instructor only dreamed about: talk to one another. There were some pretty hokey gizmoes for divers to talk underwater twenty years ago but these are really cool. You know how to attach the first stage to the tank, don't you?" The tone of Gary's voice let Mike know that these were pieces of technology, goddam life support equipment, for chrise sake, but that they were also wonderful toys; Gary and Mike weren't kids anymore but you sure couldn't tell from the way each of them handled these wonderful things, fondling them, understanding the purpose of each part in a mechanical sense and, at the same time, admiring them like a new airplane kit at the model shop that had been on order for several weeks. Mike could taste the anticipation as Gary secured the first stage to his tank.
"We're not going very far down or very far from shore, for that matter, if that's OK with you. You need to get comfortable with this new gear before we try anything more adventurous." Gary lifted the EXO-26 toward Mike's face, pulled the spider straps forward over the black plastic frame, and helped Mike seat the rubber seal firmly against the latex hood of his drysuit. Then he pulled the spider back over Mike's head. "Pull these straps fairly tight for starters," indicating the two lowest pull tabs at the jaw line. "Then work up to the pair above your ears, and finally, the one at the center top. They don't have to cut off your circulation; just nice and snug." As Mike adjusted the straps to what he felt was both confortable and secure, he finally remembered to breathe, sucking in a deep breath and marvelling at the sound. The rhythm of his inhaling and exhaling was so mechanical and yet so erotic...and so much louder than with a standard regulator set-up. He turned to watch Gary strap on the ScubaPro. They checked each other for tangled and twisted straps, anything that could pose a problem in an emergency situation, and moved uncomfortably into the water. Knee level...waist level...chest high...they made one final check of each other, then stood face-to-face and sank slowly beneath the water. The grey-green of the water came between them, but their eyes never broke contact. If the eyes are truely the windows of the soul, Mike felt that he was seeing deeply into his new friend.
Little wrinkles formed at the corners of Gary's eyes, the only part of his anatomy that Mike could see, but it was more than enough to tell him that Gary was smiling broadly inside that mask. Then he remembered what Gary had promised: they could talk! "Shit! This is fuckin' fantastic!" he yelled to his friend, as Gary nodded and pushed off toward deeper water with Mike beside him but a stroke or two behind. Buddies, he thought; this is what I've been missing.
Their powerful fins pushed them deeper and Mike learned how to equalize in a full face mask. His ears popped. They came to rest on the sandy bottom and just stood looking at one another. Gary reached out his rubber-gloved hand and pulled Mike toward him until their masks touched. "We can hear one another better this way. The vibrations will pass directly from your mask frame into mine and we won't have to shout so much. See what I mean?" Mike understood, but having to touch their masks together also meant that Gary's hand was on his shoulder. Mike reciprocated, holding Gary just tightly and long enough for them to plan a couple of exercises, some underwater maneuvers to build Mike's confidence with the gear.
Examining the plant life, reaching out for a fish that swam curiously by, Gary never lost sight of Mike. And Mike, for his part, made certain that Gary was always in view. Not so much for safety--though that was important--but more to study the grace and power of this man. Like porpoises at play, they horsed around. Gary grabbed Mike's fin as his swam past and tugged on it; Mike spun to face and chase him. They say that male porpoises engage in gratuitous sex, that they share foreplay. Q.E.D.
...the story continues as The Date...
While I'm working on this and future installments, you can return to Part One of the story The Meeting, go back to the Mr.DiverBear Dream Date page or even farther back to
The Frogman's homepage. And thanks to Dan for writing to tell me that he enjoyed Part One.