<em>- Bo going to his room to sleep -</em><br/><br/>Bo closed the door to his bedroom with a dull thud.  A quick survey of his room let him know that all was as he had left it.  He lifted the watch from the dresser, checking the time as he fastened it around his wrist.  Grabbing a pillow from atop the bed, his only surrender to the opulence that it offered, he tossed it at the head of his mat, which still lay on the floor where he had napped earlier, and lay down on the thin rubber foam cushion.  As he stared up at the ceiling he ran the events of the day over in his head, dissecting each part, and considering how each action fit into his overall plan for his role in this experiment.<br/><br/>From the moment of his arrival, as the gentleman had met him in the golf cart by the dock, to the last kiss and goodbye in Mari's room, everyone had been very friendly and welcoming.  Even Vince had tried in his own way, though ultimately his course had led him elsewhere.  Bo had a moment to consider the kiss between Marcus and Nicci.  He had thought initially that he would feel pangs of jealousy, though that didn't happen.  The flourish with which Marcus engaged in the kiss may have helped Bo to accept it, as it lent it a dramatic quality, almost like an act or play.  Perhaps that is why Bo didn't respond negatively.  How would he feel the first time Marcus pleasured Nicci in other ways in front of him, and he saw the enjoyment in her face.  He thought about Mari and Mila.  Would he develop the same bond with them that he already felt with Nicci.  He certainly hoped so.  The basic attraction was there, they just had to find a common ground for it to develop.  The careful manner in which they were all chosen for this experiment gave Bo faith that a common ground would be found with Mari and Mila as well.<br/><br/>However, that would be for another day.  As he stared at the ceiling, the lamp on his dresser still lit, he thought briefly about the dream he had earlier.  And wondered if it would come again.  He glanced one more time at his watch to set a basis time for his internal clock, then closed his eyes, determined to awaken at 4am.<br/><br/>****<br/><br/>Bo's eyes popped open.  The soft light of the shaded lamp still painted a circle of white on the ceiling of his bedroom.  A light, flowery scent tip-toed away, just out of reach of his senses, though he could have sworn it was just there.  He recognized it immediately as Mari's room from the evening before.  A memory, lingering from a dream that he couldn't remember -- gone now.<br/><br/>He brought his arm up turning his watch to his eyes and saw the time:  03:58.  Close enough, he thought as he sat up.  Rising to his feet, he glanced at the unused bed and smiled, musing at the likelihood that the three women would expect him to use a bed when in their company.  Something else for him to get use to.  He resolved that if he found himself alone in his room again tonight, he would use the bed and call it practice.  Though some might call it a return to normalcy, he thought wryly.<br/><br/>Casting about for his wet gear, he suited up, then threw on a set of fatigues, finally slipping his feet into a pair of tactical boots.  The swim fins were tied by the heels so that he could throw them over his shoulder like saddlebags.  The mask, snorkel, and specialized equipment he left behind as today was just about feeling out the currents.  He wanted to get in the water early enough to get a measure for the morning tide changes as well as a sense of harshness of the rocky coastline.  He figured for this first attempt that the dock was his best ingress point, so he grabbed one piece of specialized equipment that he had sent ahead.  Fully extended, it looked like a walking cane with knobs spaced evenly down the length of it.  And it could be used as such.  Each section between the knobs could be unlocked with a twist and then pushed up into the section above, making the length of the cane telescoping so that it could be more easily transported.   The knobs were lined in a thin lair of coarse rubber, and a twist where the curve of the handle ended in a nub allowed the nub to be removed revealing a sharp spike.  Sharp enough to stomp into the wood at the edge of the dock, giving him a basic, though very effective, ladder.<br/><br/>Cane in hand, he left his room, heading downstairs.  He made for a side exit that would allow him to avoid the kitchen and front entrance areas.<br/><br/>****<br/><br/><em>- Bo returning from his swim - </em><br/><br/>After his swim in the already frigid waters, Bo felt invigorated.  He quickly stripped, turned the hot water on, and hung his swim equipment on the racks in the bathroom to dry.  By the time he was ready to step in the shower, a pleasant steam was already rising.  He tuned the water temperature to his liking and stepped under the shower head, letting the warm water cascade over him.  No matter how much time he spent in water, he could never get enough.  The feel of it rebuffed by his thick wet suit or the soft caress of it over his naked body.  It didn't matter.  He loved being in water.  His breathing was so in-tuned with it's motions, that it rarely entered his lungs, so that he sometimes felt that he could breathe it in like a fish with gills.  As he stood in the flowing water, he thought of his swim earlier.<br/><br/>The water that surrounded the island wasn't the soft, warm variety that currently poured from the chrome shower head.  It was rough, mean and cold.  Home.  A dangerous home, but home none-the-less.  Just an hour in it's hospitality, and he was already beginning to know it.  About 80 meters out he had entered a current strong enough to whisk the best swimmer far away, but Bo's fins were specially designed to counteract all but the strongest currents when matched with his powerful kick.  He had let the current pull him along a ways, getting a measure of its strength before pushing against it.  Once free, the rush of the water over his body maintained its pace, a pace set by his own stroke, yet the shadow of the looming island suddenly began to draw closer as the current no longer fought against him.  So he had slowed, turned, and continued exploring in wide arcs, testing the edge of the current and following it further out.  Finally, glancing at his watch, he turned back, circling closer into the shoreline as he made for the dock.  The last 50 meters he swam underwater, surveying as best as he could in the choppy surf the rocky shoreline.  A person standing on the edge of the dock, pondering the strange cane-like device hanging over the edge, would have been surprised as a hand broke the glassy surface grabbing onto the rubber coated knob closest to the lapping water.  Just a couple hand-over-hand pulls and Bo's fingers clasped the top edge of the deck, pulling himself up and twisting to sit on the edge facing the water, the remnants of which dripped from his suit.  He pulled the hood back, breathing in the cool morning air in deep breaths just as the leading edge of the horizon began to color ever so slightly.  Sunrise was still some time away, but he had set there awaiting its arrival.  Thinking.<br/><br/>An hour later, having felt the first touches of light on his brow, Bo slipped on his clothes and returned to his room via the same route that he had taken out.  Something he had forced himself to do, since alternating ingress and egress routes was a necessity of his past life, not of his new one.<br/><br/>After showering, Bo got dressed in soft cotton boxer-briefs, jeans and a worn faded green t-shirt.  He was tempted to go to breakfast barefooted, but decided on wearing sandals instead.  With a quick brush of his teeth, hair, and a last look in the mirror, he walked out.  The stubble on his jaw, he kept.<br/><br/><br/><br/>