"We're at my place," I said in the sweetest voice I could muster. "Fuck that." It was almost like he was shitfaced drunk and took cocaine at the same ...ime. As soon as I took off his seatbelt and lifted him out of the seat, I heard a strange but familiar voice. Dragging him around to face this voice, I was both decimated with anger and imbued with fear."There you are, prisoner." I looked up to see a face I hoped to never see again. The lift we had been in coincidentally pulled away, almost like. Most mornings would find me swimming in the surf shortly after sunrise, usually to tiny, or non-existent waves. Often patrons from the caravan park would also swim at that hour. Usually, they were older folk, mostly "grey nomads". I would never attempt to lose my trunks if children were around, and usually, there were none at that hour.On this particular occasion, the scenario was perfect. Better waves than normal, good light, around ten or so other bathers, mostly women, and all somewhat. More

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