I chatted for a little longer with Phil and Dan, then gave them each a peck on the cheek (and I'll admit it was mostly to stir up whoever was watching, but I wanted to, too. I like gay guys, and this was a cute pair), stood up, and walked down to where the waves were breaking on the beach. I haven't ever cared much for the beach, but I've always enjoyed walking just where the salt water could wash over my feet. It felt as if the liquid sand was being sucked out from under my toes, and gave me a slightly off-kilter feeling--rather like when I was a child, and had to step onto an escalator. It just didn't feel right for the ground you were standing on to be moving.

I found a couple of nice enough clamshells, which I collected. I remembered shell hunting as a child, and wondering why I never found those cool conch, scallop, or nautilus shells that I saw in the encyclopedias. I didn't realize then that I'd have to hit more tropical sands to find them. I had heard SE Texas called semi-tropical, and with the heat and humidity I'd grown up with, I had little desire to find out what tropical felt like.

The rhythmic waves didn't quite mask the sound of footsteps coming up behind me. I could even tell how they were approaching by the sound. First there was the rapid, muffled thud of someone trotting on dry sand, then the slower, grittier squish-slush of them slowing to a walk in the same wave-washed area I was walking. The only question was who it was--and I had two good guesses. I was hoping for one, and ready to get downright catty if it was the other one, and he got on my nerves.

"I bet you did this when you were a little girl."

*Looks like I won't have to be scratching eyes out for at least a few more hours.* "Hi, Lawrence. Yeah. I also collected rocks, and all of them were just as undistinguished as these. I didn't classify, label, and display--I just sort of arranged them in a pleasing manner."

"Sounds good to me. I've always thought that some hobbies seemed an awful lot like hard work." We walked quietly for a few yards. When he stopped and squatted down, I paused, too, and watched him dig something out of the sand. He rinsed it in the next wave, then offered it to me.

I examined it. It was a small, perfectly formed sand dollar. "Cool. Thanks."

"You're welcome." We started walking again. His tone was elaborately casual. "So, what did Philip and Dan want?"

"A threesome." He actually jerked to a stop. "Joke, Laurey, joke. To jerk my chain, the two fey snots. If they weren't so darn cute together, I'd smack them both."

"Oh."

We resumed walking, and I noticed a slightly smug look on his face. "Don't look so pleased. You're capable of engendering the same feeling--barely escaping a richly deserved smack through cuteness."

"But you admit you think I'm cute."

I swatted him on the shoulder sharply. "You just stepped over the line."

"It was worth it."

"I don't think I want to be on the lonely end of the beach while you're being smug. Turning around now."

I turned and started back up the beach toward the others, with Lawrence following again. The booger was singing under his breath, "She liiikes me, she liiikes me, she reeealy, reeealy liiikes me." I would have found that obnoxious in a teenage boy. Lawrence was only a few years older than that, so why did it strike me as sexy?

Like many beach houses, ours was provided with a stash of box games. We played Trivial Pursuit, 60s version, that evening. I kicked much ass. I was partnered with Lawrence, and he could answer the science and sports questions, while I took care of the people and cultural. There was some muttering about unfair advantages, since I had actually lived through the sixties, so we switched to Movies Trivia. I, again, kicked ass. When Boz sulked, I asked him why. After all, all it proved was that I had a head stuffed full of information that was useless, unless I ever got on Who Wants to be a Millionaire, or Jeopardy.

Winning puts me in a good mood, and when someone mixed up a huge batch of Tom Collins, I jumped on it. I hate the taste of alcohol, but these tasted like lemonade. They were also, as I found out half-way into the evening, deceptive as to alcohol content. Whoever mixed those puppies did it like a frat boy rather than a pro bartender. Every one of them I drank hoisted one more sheet to the wind, so around ten o'clock I had raised three sheets and a pillowcase, and was working on the bedspread.

Now, I've never gotten really, really drunk. I've been tipsy as hell, but I've never reached the 'what the hell happened after that last tequila?' state. You know--I've never awakened anywhere other than my own bed, never been surprised to find someone snoring beside me, never had to wonder how I got a new tattoo or piercing when they're not supposed to do that for drunk people...

Anyway, that night I still didn't hit really, really drunk, but I did manage really. I suppose that accounts for the exhibition. No, I kept all my clothes on. I told you--I wasn't that drunk. But some fool had to turn on the radio. I'm a musical drunk. I think I sing better when I'm sloshed. Mind you I can't be sure--I've never heard a recording, or anything, but I damn sure think I sound better--but I'm drunk at the time. You get the idea. Anyway, it was just my luck that they hit 'Man, I Feel Like a Woman' by Shania Twain.

All right, I haven't got the bod, or the face, but that night, by God, I had the attitude. When those first few sly bars started, and Shania did that little 'yeah' thing, I was up on my feet. I think I managed to boot Lawrence in the leg, but he never complained. "Ahm going out tonight, I'm feelin' all right! Gonna let it all hang oooout." My arms were over my head, and I twitched my hips. Charlie clutched his chest and fell over backwards. Surrounded by clowns. Fine. I was in a Ringling Brothers sort of mood, anyway.

"Wanna make some noise, really raise my voice..." Melinda and Bernice leaped up, getting on either side of me, and suddenly they were the Supremes and I was Diana Ross as we all warbled (loudly), "Yeah, I wanna scream and shout!"

Belinda and Janice had been exchanging looks, now they jumped up, too, joining our group. "No inhibitions, make no conditions..." We started pushing each other good-naturedly. "Get a little outta line. I ain't gonna act politically correct..." And I went a little nuts. I grabbed Bernice and laid a fast lip lock on her. The guys yelled, Philip and Dan clutching at each other in delight. "I only wanna have a good time!"

Okay, you may think I'm making the next part up, but it's true. Dan and Philip jumped up and joined us as we started to sing, "The best thing about being a woman is the prerogative to have a little fun..." I don't think I've been that silly since my last junior high sleepover. Of course back then I did it without benefit of alcohol.

Well, the group sing led to a bit of karaoke, except that it was the old fashioned kind of taking potluck and singing along with what you could find on the radio. Isaac and Belinda did a really raunchy version of Do Ya Think I'm Sexy. Hey--they're exhibitionists--it's to be expected. I threatened to strangle Boz when he tried to do an elevator music version of Hooked on a Feeling. I'm a firm believer that the man responsible for that should be hunted down and executed. Imagine--not a single 'ooga-chaka'. He made up for it with a spastic version of Do Ya Love Me (Now That I Can Dance?).

When a Billy Joel song started, Charlie tried to get up and perform to it, but Lawrence grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back into his chair, saying, "Uh-uh. This one is mine."

Have you ever heard Only the Good Die Young, by Billy Joel? It's basically every horny boy who ever existed trying to convince every 'good girl' who ever lived to quit 'saving it'. Lawrence was singing it to me, and the boy was good. I've never seen Billy in concert (dammit), but if he moves half as nice as Lawrence does... I really shouldn't finish that thought. Let's say that Christie was a damn fool to leave him if he does.

There are a couple of lines in the song where it gets real intense. "You say your mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation..." Not true. She also mentioned babies. Of course the ironic thing is that as I left my twenties behind, the mention of babies became more wistful than warning. Can't have it both ways, Ma.

Anyway, he was singing it to me. No subtlety here, friends and neighbors. I might as well have been getting a solo show. That last chorus he put the authentic begging note into, "Come out, come out--Virginia, don't let me wait. You Catholic girls start much too late..." I managed to refrain from singing most of the song with him, but I joined in on the 'ooo ooos' at the end.

When it was done, he was a little breathless. I stood up, looped my arms around his neck, and kissed him--not hard, not fast, not slow--just medium, then stepped back and batted my eyelashes at him. "I'm Southern Baptist, Lawrence." Then I turned, glanced over my shoulder at him, and walked through surprised silence back to the sleeping porch.

And don't ask me what the fuck I meant by that last statement, because to this day, I honest to God don't know!

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Only the Good Die Young
Sung by Billy Joel

Come out Virginia, don't let me wait
You catholic girls start much too late
Aw but sooner or later it comes down to fate
I might as well be the one

They showed you a statue, told you to pray
They built you a temple and locked you away
But they never told you the price that you pay
For things that you might have done.....
Only the good die young
That's what I said
Only the good die young x2

You might have heard I run with a dangerous crowd
We ain't too pretty we ain't too proud
We might be laughing a bit too loud
Aw but that never hurt no one

Come on Virginia show me a sign
Send up a signal I'll throw you the line
The stained-glass curtain you're hiding behind
Never lets in the sun
Darlin' only the good die young
(woah x5 )
I tell ya Only the good die young x2

You got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation
You got a brand new soul
Mmmm, and a cross of gold
But Virginia they didn't give you quite enough information
You didn't count on me
When you were counting on your rosary
(oh woah woah)

They say there's a heaven for those who will wait
Some say it's better but I say it ain't
I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints
The sinners are much more fun...

You know that only the good die young
Oh woah baby
I tell ya Only the good die young, x2

You say your mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation
Aww she never cared for me
But did she ever say a prayer for me? oh woah woah

Come out come out Virginia don't let me wait,
The catholic girls start much too late
Sooner or later it comes down to fate
I might as well be the one,
You know that only the good die young

I'm telling you baby
Only the good die young x2
Only the gooooooooooooooood
Only the good die young
Only the gooooooooooooooood
Only the good die young
Ooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooo oooooooooo...