The vending cafe where he had paused was one of the few uncrowded
ones he had come upon. There were a dozen outdoor tables, each with
its brightly colored umbrella. Only one other table was occupied.
The man sitting there had glanced Hendley's way without apparent
interest, though his eyes were hidden behind the dark glasses worn by
the majority of the camp's residents. He was a slender, lithe young
man, about Hendley's own height and build, with skin darkened by long
exposure to the sun. Hendley envied the youthful stranger his casual,
indolent air. Quite obviously he was used to all this; he could take it
for granted.
Fifty yards away a game of some sort was in progress in an outdoor
pool. Shouts and sudden cries and bubbling laughter drifted across the
green lawn. On impulse Hendley downed the last of his drink, rose and
walked slowly toward the pool.
The scene might have been in a Freedom Play on the viewscreen in
Hendley's old room. Men and women in white uniforms sat around tables
on a broad patio surrounding the pool, or relaxed in lounge chairs,
caressing drinks while they talked or idly watched the action in the
pool. Sunlight sparkled on the blue water, which was churned into foam
where the swimmers tangled in a spirited struggle for a round ball. The
swimmers had doffed their uniforms and wore only thin strips of white
plastic mesh. One man had lost his flimsy cover in the course of the
game, but neither he nor the spectators appeared to pay any attention
to the loss.
The game was unfamiliar to Hendley. There were goals set up at each end
of the pool, and the object of the skirmishing seemed to be to carry
the ball to one of these goals and push it through a round hoop. The
players were divided into two teams.
Hendley looked around for a vacant lounge chair. A girl sitting at the
far side of the pool, her legs over the edge, caught his eye. She was
clad in the wisps of white mesh around her breasts and hips, exposing
a large expanse of smooth, deeply tanned skin. Her slender brown legs
dangled in the water. Looking up, laughing, she saw Hendley watching
her. The laughter faded. Her eyes, large and dimly visible behind
tinted glasses, seemed to hold his, their expression unreadable. When
a sudden explosion of action in the water drew her attention, Hendley
took the opportunity to walk around the pool. He paused a few feet away
from the girl, staring down in admiration at her sleek, brown-skinned
body.
She glanced up with a slight smile made sensual by full red lips. "Why
aren't you in the game?" she asked.
"I don't know how to play." He squatted beside her, watching the agile
leap of a swimmer out of the water to spear a loose ball. "Is it easy
to learn?"
"Anybody can do it," she said with a careless shrug, "as long as you
can swim."
"I swim a little."
"You're new, aren't you?"
"How could you tell?"
Slowly she removed her tinted glasses. Large brown eyes regarded him
candidly. "You're so white," she said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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