The tide, Marissa wondered, was it high or low? As if in answer, a new swell threatened to lift them off their nano-spit of safety toward yet more rocks on their right.

There wasn’t enough room for all of them on that little bit of semi-solid land. Above was a pitted cliff face. Some of them, Marissa thought wildly, could climb that. But there was no way she could.

It seemed she was expected to. Linda, with a muscled agility that had Marissa once again thinking about warrior amazons, scaled the cliff face easily, pausing along the way to mark hand-holds on the cliff face. Where Linda had found a very large indelible marker, Marissa didn’t know. It was the kind of thing a butch could be counted on to have in her pockets but Linda wasn’t so much butch as she was outdoorsy survivor warrior gal who probably looked fabulous in silk and diamonds.

Trying to decide how she’d describe Linda kept Marissa from thinking about the obvious fact that everyone expected her to be able to climb that cliff. Had they looked at her butt? Had they realized her arms were good only for moving computer equipment?

Old people were going up the cliff face. Okay, not quickly, except they looked to be octogenarians so any speed was fast. Any speed was faster than she would ever achieve.

From the top of the cliff, where Linda leaned over expectantly, came the decree.

With a smile that seemed intelligent but masked completely unrealistic powers of judgment, Linda said, “Marissa, your turn.”

Chapter 3

Marissa didn’t say “You must be joking.”

Linda read her mind anyway. “You can do this. Take off the life jacket. I’ll talk you through it.”

The boat shifted under her. The tide seemed to be getting more violent. Still on the boat were a few of the more fit people and they were all waiting for her.

If I refuse, Marissa thought, someone will stay with me. We’ll both drown and I’ll have that on my conscience for the rest of my life.

Her involuntary laugh at her own idiocy was edged with hysteria.

Again, Linda said, “You can do this.”

Marissa unbuckled the life jacket and was out of the boat without consciously making her legs move. After tucking her sneaker-clad foot into the spot Linda had marked “F1,” she reached up for the pit in the rock marked “H1.” Then she sighted “F2” and “H2.” She’d have to pull herself up about two feet to reach either.

“Pretend you’re a frog and keep your knees apart.”

There were a dozen ribald replies she could have made, she was sure of that, but she couldn’t think of any of the right words. Hands and feet braced, she pulled, pushed, lifted, grunted, scraped her cheek, squashed her boobs into the rock and managed to get good grips on the second set of holds. Men, she thought savagely, did not have to deal with boobs.

Looking up, she sighted the next reach.