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From: dioladragontail@yahoo.com
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Subject: {ASSM} The Beach (MF)
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Date: Sat, 23 Jun 2007 19:10:05 -0400
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The Beach
By Diola Dragontail

"This is my favorite spot."  She said out loud to no one in
particular.  There was no one around that could hear anyway.

She laid out the towel on the soft sand; it was a light blue towel,
the same hue as the sky on a clear day.  But she could remember a time
when it was dark blue and brand new.

She could remember picking it out in the store just like it was
yesterday.  The store is long gone now, just a ghost of a memory where
a parking lot now stands.

She smiled to herself as she ran her fingers along the threadbare
surface of the towel, as if she was caressing an old friend.

She sat down carefully on top of it, her gaze turning to the surf
ahead of her.  The soft crash of the waves on the shore made her feel
sleepy, but she resisted the urge to nap.

If would be any second now and she didn't want to miss it.

She remembered the first time she came out here.  The cold wind was
blowing in off the water, pushing the heat back in land.

Behind her were the sounds of the party still going on.  She turned to
look and should still see the dull glow of the dance floor just behind
the rise of the sand dunes.

Like ghosts the figures came over the rise, clothing dropping like
autumn leaves.  Laughing voices charging towards the surf.

Bare skin dimpling at the first touch of the cold salt water, the
sound of splashing filling the air as hormone enflamed bodies charged
at each other.

She remembered the feeling of Johnny's knob her hand.  The surprised
look on his face when she gripped it.  She thought about making some
smart teasing comment about it, but she didn't.

Instead she just winked at her big brother.  Just thinking about it
now made her blush even though Johnny was long gone now too, just like
the store.

No one else could see what she was doing, her hand and his hips hidden
under the water.  The look of panic on his face was the only thing
someone would have spotted and it was even worse when she started to
stroke him.  He was so young and strong back then, how could she have
possibly forgotten?

She remembered the way his knob jerked in her hand, the brief glazed
look on his face, then the way the rock hard skin started to get soft.

She smiled to herself; she was so bold back then.

Johnny never touched her.  She wasn't sure if he wanted to or not,
maybe he was just scared.  Now she wished that they had talked about
it.  Maybe things might have been different now.

The splashing in the dark surf faded, along with the laughter, and
then finally the ghosts faded away too.

The edge of the horizon just began to glow orange now, burning at the
coming of a new day.  Her hand continued to stroke the towel
underneath her, like she was trying to reassure a nervous friend.

She remembered running barefoot along the sand on a spring afternoon,
the smell of fresh flowers lofting from the field beyond the sand.
The scent fighting with the odor of salt water, cast back and forth on
the whims of the wind.

She felt someone behind her, lunging for her legs, catching her feet
and sending her tumbling forward in to the sand.  She laughed as she
spun over onto her back, just in time for Margaret to scramble over
her, pining her arms down to the sand.

She remembered thrashing her head back and forth in a halfhearted
attempt to escape, Margaret's voice teasing her.

Then their lips met.  She wasn't sure which of them had made the first
move, but it didn't matter.  As their lips held together, she felt
Margaret's grip loosen.

Her eyes closed slowly and she thought she felt Margaret's fingers on
her chest.  But then, just like that, other voices interrupted and the
moment was gone.

She watched the sand as the two figures disappeared back into her
memory, just at the same time the intruder's heads briefly appeared
over the sand dune, before fading just like the other ghost memories.

She frowned as her gaze went back to the sea.  So much lost time and
missed moments.

She remembered sneaking down here during a winter storm, the water
frozen and shattered, like a surreal jagged landscape.  Feeling of
Andrew's cold hands slipping under her jacket, pressing against her
stomach.  Leaning against him, letting him support her, welcoming his
touch.

They kissed there and she knew that he was going to be the one she'd
spend her life with.  They made love there, in the snow, on top of the
sand.  It was a frantic, spontaneous affair, snuck into a few stolen
moments of privacy.

His hands opening her clothes just enough to get to her skin.  The
feeling of the cold winter air on her exposed thighs, her jeans around
her knees, her coat providing just a little bit of shelter.  She could
hear the ice crunching under her butt as he positioned himself over
her.

His penis was cold at first, pressing into her, tearing into her.  His
skin quickly growing warm, then hot inside her, he was only in her for
what seemed like a few seconds before he came.

She smiled as once again the ghosts faded from the beach.  The two
figures permanently entangled together in her memories.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the water now, the orange glow
going red, the clouds taking on a pink, cotton candy look.

"Mom?"  The sharp voice came from behind her.  "What are you doing out
here?"

She didn't bother to turn towards the voice, just watching as the sun
continued to rise.

"You shouldn't be out here alone."  The voice said, as it got closer.
The initial tone of reprimanding faded, now concerned annoyance.

Hands touched her shoulders, telling her that this wasn't just another
one of her ghosts.

"Come on, let's get you back inside."  The hands helped her to stand,
she didn't want to, but she didn't have the strength to resist.

"You're going to catch a cold out here."  The voice admonished her,
starting to lead her away from the beach.

She glanced over her shoulder at the faded towel, now sitting along on
the beach.  She wanted to say something.  She wanted to go back and
retrieve it.  But the only thing she was able to say was, "This is my
favorite place."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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