“Why do you need to go for a walk, Michelle?” Diane asked darkly. She saw the moonlit waters, the black shadow of the proa, the moon-fire that ran down the far edge of the bellying sail, the silent natives: no sound except the slapping of the outrigger and the low sibilant murmur of water falling away from the sides—and the beating of her heart. He took over, doing his best to rearrange his overly sensitive member back into his pants. Presently her aunt sighed deeply and looked at the clock. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies.
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