Slippery Dip Quotes

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I've always had a good memory a good head for facts although when something is behind you it changes when you try to capture it in words. The past is slippery that way. I know all about that. And even the present is hard to pin down. You think you know everything that's happening around you. But you can't always see clearly when you're standing right there in the picture.
Amanda Howells (The Summer of Skinny Dipping (Summer, #1))
Christ, she missed him outrageously. Disgusted with herself, she ducked her head under the spray and let it pound on her brain. When hands slipped around her waist, then slid up to cup her breasts, she barely jolted. But her heart leaped. She knew his touch, the feel of those long, slim fingers, the texture of those wide palms. She tipped her head back, inviting a mouth to the curve of her shoulder. "Mmm. Summerset. You wild man." Teeth nipped into flesh and made her chuckle. Thumbs brushed over her soapy nipples and made her moan. "I'm not going to fire him." Roarke trailed a hand down the center of her body. "It was worth a shot. You're back..." His fingers dipped expertly inside her, slick and slippery, so that she arched, moaned, and came simultaneously. "Early," she finished on an explosive breath. "God." "I'd say I was just on time.
J.D. Robb (Ceremony in Death (In Death, #5))
The tips of my overgrown bangs dip into the wet of my tears. My fingers, forehead, moisten with sweat. I fight the slipperiness, press the valves firmly, play the love, the hate, the misery, the hope, the freedom that I wanted, never wanted, can't have; that doesn't exist.
Stasia Ward Kehoe (The Sound of Letting Go)
the agonisingly stilted telephone call with George. Chapter 5 Disturbing Siesta Time Marigold deigned to join me for a stroll around the village in lieu of the promised dip. An enormous pair of rather glamorous sunglasses paired with a jaunty wide-brimmed straw sunhat, obscured her face, making it impossible to read her expression though I guessed she was still miffed at being deprived of her swim. As we walked past the church and the village square the leafy branches of the plane trees offered a shaded canopy against the sun. Our steps turned towards one of the narrow lanes that edged upwards through the village, the ancient cobbles worn smooth and slippery from the tread of donkeys and people. The sound of a moped disturbed the peace of the afternoon and we hastily jumped backwards at its approach, pressing our bodies against a wall as the vehicle zapped past us, the pensioned-off rider’s shouted greeting muffled by the noisy exhaust. Carrier bags of shopping dangling from the handlebars made me reflect the moped was the modern day equivalent of the donkey, though less useful; the old man was forced to dismount and cart the bags of shopping on foot when the cobbled lane gave way to steps. Since adapting to village life we had become less reliant on wheels. Back in Manchester we would have thought nothing of driving to the corner shop, but here in Meli we delighted in exploring on foot, never tiring of discovering
V.D. Bucket (Bucket To Greece, Volume Three)
He leaned over the rail and stared down into the Pool with interest. It was certainly not much of a place, the water dark and rather slimy, the steps slippery-looking too. Grandfather must be right, and it formed part of the city drain. The man who had been lame for thirty-eight years was lucky when Jesus came along and healed him instantly, rather than waiting for someone to lift him into the Pool. Perhaps Jesus realized the water was bad. There they go, he said to himself, as the father, ignoring the child’s terrified screams, slowly descended the steps. Freeing one hand, he dipped it in the Pool and sloshed the water three times over his daughter, wetting her face, her neck, her arms. Then, smiling in triumph at the curious watchers above, he ascended the steps to safety, his wife smiling with him, mopping the child’s face with a towel. The child herself, bewildered, distraught, rolled her frightened eyes over the heads of the crowd. Robin waited to see if the father would put her down, cured. Nothing happened, though. She began screaming again, and the father, making soothing sounds, bore her away from the top of the steps and was lost in the crowd. Robin turned to the Rev. Babcock. “No luck, I’m afraid. There
Daphne du Maurier (Don't Look Now and Other Stories)
But I was very hungry. Finally I decided to imagine a feast for myself that would absolutely not arouse my appetite. As I thought about it I decided it would be blessed bread, dipped in holy water. This was my own ascetic convention. The dish turned out to be certainly quite pious, but terribly untasty: it was wet, slippery, and bland. But even that was what I wanted.
Tikhon Shevkunov (Everyday Saints and Other Stories)
It was as if they could dip their hands beneath the surface of the day and feel the current of that other life, only nine months earlier, running just beneath it. There was Cleo running naked through the living room, dripping lake water across the floor, and Frank laughing just behind her, trying to grab her slippery limbs. Here was the kitchen where they had eaten fresh fruit, cereal, or sandwiches for every meal because neither of them could cook. There was Frank dozing on the sofa, a book tented on his bare chest, and Cleo gently setting it aside to lay her head in its place. It was on the train home that he had asked her to marry him. She’d lifted her cheek from his shoulder in wonder. How did you know that was what I wanted? He’d laughed. So that’s a yes? Yes , she’d said, a thousand yeses, yes. And it had felt like the beginning of everything.
Coco Mellors (Cleopatra and Frankenstein)
Vibram FiveFingers,” Ted said. “Aren’t they great? I’m their first sponsored athlete!” Yes, it was true; Ted had become America’s first professional barefoot runner of the modern era. FiveFingers were designed as a deck shoe for yacht racers; the idea was to give better grip on slippery surfaces while maintaining the feeling of shoelessness. You had to look closely just to spot them; they conformed so perfectly around his soles and each toe, it looked as if Ted had dipped the bottoms of his feet in greenish ink.
Christopher McDougall (Born to Run)
I’m going to tell you a story,” she whispered. “There once was a beautiful woman named Amber, who lived alone in a far away land between the sea and the sky. Anyone that passed by knew that Amber was special. But there was one who adored her most of all.” She paused and smiled down at me. “Whenever Amber went down to the ocean and bathed her body, whenever she dipped her long fingers into the waves, the mermaid that lived in the deep water beyond the reef would swim close and watch her. Each day the mermaid came a little closer until finally, she emerged from the water and said hello.” “Just like you did,” I whispered. “Shhh.” She held her finger to my lips. “When Amber saw the mermaid, she was very curious. More curious perhaps, than she’d ever been about anyone. The mermaid was even more curious about Amber. No other woman had ever seemed so perfect and so pure. Every time the mermaid looked at Amber her desire grew like wildfire. Amber hadn’t yet learned all the slippery ways of the world,” She said softly as she dipped her thumb between my lips. I sighed as she pressed into me. “The mermaid could tell that Amber was still afraid. So the mermaid decided to take a chance. She gave Amber a single kiss and hoped that Amber would see her for who she really was.
Giselle Fox (Rare and Beautiful Things)