Beach Fantasy
by Scribe

Part Eight

Came the dawn...

That's an old, old phrase used on the title cards between scenes in the silent movies. I'm not sure how many times that particular phrase was used, maybe only once, but it's become sort of a cliched way of saying something along the lines of 'all became clear'.

Well, came the dawn, and I gotta tell ya--things were still pretty damn unclear to me, emotionally speaking.

I woke up in a very peculiar situation. Well, peculiar for me, anyway. It's not as if I'm not used to waking cuddled up next to a warm, living body--but they're usually kind of small, and furry. Lawrence wasn't very furry (not much body hair), and he damn sure wasn't small. In fact, I decided that his sleeping bag must be a double, because if it had been a single, one of us would have ended up out on the porch floor. As it was, I was occupying about a third of the space. I think the only reason I hadn't been nudged out was because Lawrence had an arm around me--and that was a novelty.

I know it's traditional for someone in this situation (waking up for the first time in the arms of a nearly naked man) to go through a moment of 'where am I? What happened?', but not me. Yeah, I'd been more than a little tipsy last night, but I've never gotten drunk enough to be able to pretend to myself that I couldn't recall what had happened. Nope, don't have 'my God was I drunk' as an excuse.

I've always known what I was doing--haven't always known WHY I was doing it, though. That was the case now. I'd made myself a comfortable life--emotionally neat and calm. Sexual intimacy is about the messiest and most unsettling thing a person can get themselves involved in. And with Lawrence, there are a lot of curlicues added to the equation. He's a co-worker, he's a lot younger, and... Well, if you asked just about anyone who'd be blunt and honest... he's out of my league. If there ain't no 'tens', then Lawrence is at least a 9.9. I won't contemplate what sort of score most people would assign me--too damn depressing. I'm not Medusa, but I'm darn sure not Catherine Zeta Jones-Douglas, either.

I suppose I should have thought about things a little more before I let Lawrence crawl on top of me, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. A damn good idea, actually. But it had been dark, and close, and, well... I used to roll my eyes when guys claimed that a high testosterone level clouded their judgment. It looked like I couldn't claim total clear headedness despite horniness.

So here I was, snuggled up against the side of a mostly naked, magnificent male specimen. Actually, I was laying on my side, with his arm under my neck and curved down around my shoulders. My arm, the one not tucked under me, was draped on him, hand resting on his flat belly. My cheek was resting on his upper chest, and I think my head was tucked under his chin. I wondered if my hair was tickling him, or possibly getting in his mouth. It was an interesting idea, but not as interesting as the nipple that was only a few inches away from my eyes.

I started scratching lightly at his belly, fingers tracing around his navel. His abdomen twitched, but that was the only movement, so I kept on. I located the faint tickle of the hair that ran from his belly button down under his waistband, and I started plucking at it gently. This had an unusual effect. The nipple I was looking at started to get hard, stiffening into a little nub. Interesting. My fingers hit the elastic of his waistband, and I started skating my fingers along it.

"If that's for my benefit, you can move a few inches south." Lawrence's voice was very quiet.

I raised my hand, lifting the top of the sleeping bag to form a small cave, and lifted my head a couple of inches to peer down. Sure enough, there was the beginning of a nice lump in the front of his boxers. "I thought that morning boners could be attributed to a need to visit the toilet."

"Often, but not always. Especially not if the owner of said boner wakes up to a woman caressing him."

There was a creak, and I quickly slid my hand back up to his chest. Apparently not quickly enough, though. "You horn dogs!" It was Philip's voice. "Is this an eye opener, or are you still at it?"

"We refuse to answer, on the grounds that you're a nosy bastard," said Lawrence jovially.

Dan was peeking over Philip's shoulder, studying me. "Mmm. Phil, I do believe that they avoided the main event last night. She doesn't look nearly smug enough. Anyway, you two peel yourselves apart. We are in charge of breakfast this morning, and anyone who isn't at the table when it arrives will be faced with omeletes like Frisbees." He patted his lover on the shoulder, and they both went back into the kitchen. But then he poked his head back out and grinned. "Besides, if you don't get up, you're going to have a parade of the curious. Those who do not even grunt before ten o'clock will be making a pilgrimage out here, ready to warble Good Morning, Starshine, if it'll help them figure out what you two were up to last night." He went back in.

"He's gay, and he's making threats about his cooking. He's serious," I said, flipping the bag open. We both got up, and dug in our duffle bag for clothes.

I started back into the house, and Lawrence said, "Don't bother on my account."

"You think that because I let you hump me, I'd get dressed in front of you? Good lord, next you'll be expecting me to let you steal food off my plate." I went in, weaving my way between Dan and Philip, and just beating Box into the downstairs bathroom.

He tapped on the door, sounding mournful. "C'mon, lemme in. I need to pee."

"Go upstairs."

"Melinda beat me in there. You know how much time she spends on her hair. My bladder will burst."

"Dammit, Boz, then go outside."

He squawked, "Outside?"

"Oh, right. Look, I've seen you step into an alley rather than walk back into a building. Look at all the sand out there, and think like a cat. As long as it's just tinkle, just be sure to do it away from walkways, and kick litter over it."

"You are so cold."

"No, I'm not. It's just that I need to pee, too, and the logistics are a lot harder for a woman than for a man. Now, I thought your bladder was bursting?"

"Oh, man!" I heard him hurrying away, and started to attend to my own needs. Then I heard someone from upstairs yelling, "Hey! Boz is watering one of the posts!"

Someone downstairs replied, "Ew! Well, I'm not paying to have them put new tar on them, or whatever they do."

There was a short line when I finished dressing and stepped out. Isaac and Belinda, clothes and towels hung over their arms, were ahead of Bernice. All three grinned at me. They started a three part version of 'Oh, What a Night', with Bernice taking the falsetto part. "Oh, hell." I sang right back. "People like talkin', talkin' 'bout people."

"Ah, but we don't whisper," said Isaac cheerfully. He and Belinda went into the bathroom.

Bernice said, "I hope I never get that comfortable with any man. Well? Walk across the room. I want to see if you're bowlegged."

"The tact and elegance of my co-workers never ceases to amaze me."

"C'mon, Scribe." She crooked her fingers. "Details, details, details."

"I swear, you people are in other people's business more than the IRS. Hurry up unless you want a Frisbee for breakfast." I headed for the kitchen. Dan was sliding an omelet out of the pan and onto a plate that already held several, while Philip pulled a pan of ham slices out of the oven. "Ah. I love the smell of pork products in the morning."

"Bless your redneck heart," said Philip, depositing his load on the counter, and beginning to fill a platter. "It's a pleasure to cook for someone who enjoys it. I almost had to strangle Dan to get him to use the yolks in the omelet, and he usually won't eat anything for breakfast except yogurt and fruit. He's been living here for eight years, but he's still got some California hang-over."

"I haven't tried to put sprouts or avocado in anything for years, so shut up," said Dan. Lawrence came in. "Got an appetite for a big breakfast, Romeo?"

"Wrong literary reference," said Lawrence. "No tragedy here. But yeah, I could eat a buffet or two." He opened the refrigerator and started pulling out odds and ends--milk, butter, orange juice, jelly.

"Oh, look--they're pretending to ignore each other," Philip cooed. "Aren't they cute?"

"I may have to kill some of you people," I said, taking a seat at the table. "Feed me, and I'll let you live." Lawrence poured a glass of orange juice and set it before me. "Thank you. You live." I took a sip.

"Live, hell. I want the position of Official Concubine," said Lawrence, taking a seat beside me.

Conner and Janice entered in time to catch the last of the conversation. "Can I be Grand Vizer?" he said.

"Dibs on Head Harem Boy Wrangler," said Janice.

"Is that an official position?" asked her husband.

"I'm Grand Poobah," I said. "I can create any position I want. Bribes are accepted."

Charlie had entered by now. "How about sexual favors?"

"Just so long as no one suggests we work as eunuchs," said Dan.

Charlie sat down on my other side. "What I need to know is, do we have a Virgin Queen?"

"News for ya, Charlie," I said, "General belief is that it was all PR, and Liz had as healthy a love life as most women of her age."

"And this means?"

"Ain't saying." I helped myself to omelet. "Suffer."

"Damn. Lawrence, you're a guy--you have a sacred duty to talk."

"As the lady said--suffer."

Charlie squinted at Lawrence, then me. We continued eating. "I say nothing happened." I raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, something happened, but not The Big Event." He pointed. "You'd be blushing by now if it had."

"Damn this fair complexion," I drawled.

Charlie started helping his plate lavishly. "Which means that I'm still in the running."

There was a clatter as several of my tablemates dropped their forks. Apparently it was difficult to operate silver ware and roll your eyes at the same time. "I bet if I tried to neuter you, you'd believe I was just playing hard to get."

"Charlie, got any idea how easy it is to hide a body at the beach?" said Lawrence.

A moist breeze blew through the open porch door, and there was a sudden rolling boom over head. "Not all that easy with the sand wet," said Charlie cheerfully. "Looks like we'll be spending most of the day inside." He wiggled his eyebrows at me. "Wanna play Truth or Dare again?"

"Let me think--no. Now both choices would be hazardous. And I don't feel obligated to be trapped in here. Like my mama used to tell me, I'm not sugar--I won't melt."

By the time breakfast was done, it was really coming down. Not a lot of wind, mind you, just that straight down, hard rain that Texas can achieve so often. I'm not usually all that impressed by a Texas seascape. It's not like it is on those tropical postcards, with gorgeous blue water. You want blue, you have to go out five or ten miles. Thanks to the Gulf Coast current stirring up the bottom, we usually have brownish, or at best, gray-green. But a beach during a storm is a sight to see. Even without the high winds, the waves churn up into froth, stretching far, far out. You can watch what looks like the entire ocean rippling and heaving. I'm not a small woman, but it's always enough to make me feel downright tiny. Gives me a sense of how small my place is in the universe.

And I needed that right now, because with the amount of attention that my roomies were giving me, I could have easily gotten an inflated sense of my own importance. Good God, you'd think that the secret of my maidenhood was... I don't know. Next week's winning lottery numbers. What really happened to Jimmie Hoffa. The truth about what Scotsmen wear under their kilts. I haven't seen a group that nosy since I hid a catnip mouse in a paper bag and threw it in the middle of a neighbor's group of cats.

I finally got desperate, and dug the Arts and Entertainment section out of the previous day's newspaper. I shoved it into Conner's hands, saying, "Here! You people go see a movie. Start a snogging session in the back row, and see how people react. Come back and tell me, and I'll try to work up an article on public displays of affection through history, and you can deduct the cost from your taxes."

"Sounds good to me," said Isaac.

"It would," said Boz.

Dan was peering over Conner's shoulders. "Oo, look! They're running a bargain matinee of Murder by Numbers! I want to see that again. Maybe the two hottie teen murderers will go ahead and kiss this time."

"If they didn't the first time," said Boz, "they won't..."

"Shut up, Boz. Let me dream."

After a little discussion, everyone found something they wouldn't mind seeing--except Lawrence. "They've got nothing that I haven't seen, or am not willing to wait a few months and see on Netflix."

Charlie crossed his arms. "If he doesn't go, I don't go. I'm not leaving him with a clear field."

I sighed. "How old are you again, Charlie? Twelve? Fourteen?"

Charlie stuck his tongue out at me. Lawrence said, "Hell. I suppose I could see Constantine one more time."

"Yes!" said Philip. "There's no such thing as too much Keanu Reeves."

"Personally, I think that Chain Reaction comes pretty damn close," I said.

They decided to have lunch out, then go on to the show. I received some bawdy suggestions on how I could spend the afternoon. The rain hadn't slackened in the least, and didn't look like it was going to any time soon, but the cars were parked in the open space under the house, and the front staircase went down from the covered front porch. They loaded into the two vehicles, with Conner driving one, and Janice the other. I waved bye-bye. Lawrence, riding shotgun with Conner, gave me a smirk as they drove off.

I went back upstairs. I had a strong feeling that he was going to try to sneak back, but I had no idea what he was planning. After all, Conner and Janice would have possession of the keys, and if Charlie knew that he was trying to get back to the cabin, he'd tag along.

I didn't give it too much thought. If he didn't come back, I'd have a few hours of peace. If he did...

Heh heh heh...