The names, characters, places and events in this book are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. All characters are over the age of 18. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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It was too good a day to work, Hershel thought. It wasn't like he hadn't been working six days a week for so long now and even on a Sunday; he mostly spent the afternoons after church catching up on paperwork as well as getting the basics done -- like shopping for groceries and doing laundry. All the things that had to be done. Not that he was complaining as that was life as a self-employed contractor. But yesterday he'd finished his last job, fixing-up a foreclosure on Oakmont Lane, with a day to spare and every cell in his body cried out for rest. Anything that didn't involve cement or plaster dust or paint. No, sir, he needed a change, a rest, a break.
He valeted his truck, an ageing Chevy with too many miles on the clock, which basically meant dumping a load of fast food and candy wrappers, useless receipts and notes, ripped gloves and the detritus that accumulates in any busy workman's vehicle into the trash can and then giving the interior a quick vacuum and polish. Surveying the results, he didn't fool himself that it looked like a new truck straight from the showroom but it looked a lot better than before. That got him into the holiday spirit so he threw some food and cokes into a cool bag and headed out eastwards to visit Lake Erie Bluffs Park on the other side of Cleveland. It was about eighty miles away and, apart from one or two stretches through Cleveland itself, traffic was light. As he drove, he sang along to WDOK, a classic country station, and with every mile his spirits lifted as the mercury in the thermometer rose. It had been far too long since he'd had a beach break and he remembered Lake Erie Bluffs from when his family used to visit when he was a boy.
It was just after ten when his truck pulled into the blacktop parking lot. There was plenty of space as only a few other vehicles were parked up. It was a Tuesday, after all, he thought, and school's not yet out. He swung down from the cab and fetched his cool bag from out the truck bed. As he did so, he caught his reflection in the driver's side window. In it, he saw a pleasant, rugged face with a square chin, not what women would call Hollywood handsome, but rugged and tanned from mostly working outdoors. He had short, sandy hair and what he called designer stubble although that was more not bothering to shave than any deliberate intent. Brown eyes crinkled with laughter lines. Not bad, he thought, but he was sorry that he was 'free and single' at the moment.
He was just about to walk past the picnic tables to the bluffs when he noticed a woman crouching over a tire on her Chevrolet Cruze. For a moment he thought about walking past as it was hard to approach a woman in these days of feminism without her thinking you were demeaning her or, worse, her wondering if you were about to attack her. However, he could not leave a fellow Chevy owner to struggle and it would have spoiled his day if he didn't at least offer to help. Making sure she heard his feet coming her way he walked over.
"You okay, ma'am? Anything I can help with?" he asked.
The woman looked up and squinted up into the sun. He saw she was about his age -- in her mid twenties or at most only a couple of years older. "I'm alright, thanks," she said.
That was the response that Hershel expected so he half turned to walk to the bluffs and find a path down to the beach. But then the woman spoke again.
"Actually, I could do with a hand. I've gotten a flat and just can't get this tire off. Why do they make these nuts so stiff?"
And, with some surprise, Hershel found his own nuts going stiff as the woman stood up. She was dressed to beat the heat in a pair of tight denim cut-off shorts and black bikini top beneath a loose, sleeveless white knit top. She drew the top together over her breasts simultaneously hiding yet drawing attention to her D cup boobs which filled her bikini top nicely. Her narrow waist flared out to her hips while below her shorts her long, tanned athletic legs ended in a pair of sandals which showed her painted toenails.
He took in her body with a glance and before she could think he was perving over her he quickly raised his eyes to look her in the face. She had a pretty heart-shaped face with full lips made for kissing and eyes the blue-gray color of the lake itself. Her hair was tied back in a pony-tail and, from what he could see, was a light brown with blond highlights running through.
"Let me try," he said.
She handed him the wheel nut wrench and it was his turn to crouch by the jacked-up wheel arch. The woman stood next to him, giving him a close-up of her tanned legs but he was also so aware that his face was only a foot or so away from her snatch. Concentrate, he told himself, don't think about it. Applying himself to the task in hand, he twisted the wrench. She was right, the nut was stuck. Using more of his arm strength he applied more pressure and felt the stubborn nut give. After that, it was the work of fifteen minutes or less to get the tire off and fit her spare. In the heat, he was sweating but it was his good deed for the day, he thought. As he was putting the old tire into her trunk, he saw a nail sticking out of the tread.
"That's the trouble -- you must've run over it," he said, wiping his hands on a rag.
"Thanks for mansplaining that," she said with a grin taking the sting from her words. "Seriously, thanks so much for doing that -- I appreciate that."
"No problems, ma'am."
"No need to call me ma'am. My name's Heather. Heather Dooley," she said with a smile that lit up her face. With that she put out her hand and they shook. Her grip was quite firm and she had a good hand.
"Hershel Myler," he said.
She looked down at his little cool bag and pulled out a cooler from the back seat of her Cruze. "I always bring far too much. Look, why don't we head down to the beach together and we can share lunch later? Call it payback for the tire?" Her lovely smile appeared again.
"That's a deal, ma'am -- Heather."
Chatting, starting to get to know each other, they walked over the grass then through a stand of pines and firs and down the bluffs path to the beach. The lake sparkled in the sunshine and was a slightly darker blue than the nearly cloudless sky. They walked along the beach to a sheltered spot near some limestone boulders. There were a few other people, some with dogs, on the sands. Hershel found that Heather was divorced and worked at Mohr's Building Supplies in Cleveland. He figured he'd be paying it a visit real soon. He also listened to her chat about her little daughter, Willow, "The only good thing that useless man ever gave me," she said.
They found a place which suited Heather and she spread out a colorful beach towel. Hershel hadn't brought anything like that -- just sitting on the sand was good enough for him. They looked at each other and smiled, suddenly shy. Hershel pulled off his T and revealed a good physique, shaped by hard work on various construction sites over the past few years. He saw that she liked what she saw. Turning her back, she shrugged out of her white top, folded it up and laid it on the towel. She then undid her shorts and wriggled them down her legs. She dropped them onto her top and turned to face him.
"Wow," he nearly said. There was a young woman standing before him in her bikini. Her boobs were in danger of spilling out of her top and with her high-leg bottoms it was evident that she shaved or waxed down there. With difficulty, he dragged his gaze upwards and took in her smile. She knew what he had been admiring. He was so glad his trunks were loose as he was sporting quite a stiffy now. She sat on the towel and patted a spot beside her then produced two cokes, sparkling with condensation from her cooler.
They talked some more, listening to the waves gently lap the shore until Hershel felt like going for a swim to cool off and build up an appetite.
"Coming?" he asked, extending an arm.
She shook her head. "No, the water's gonna be too cold for me. I'll stay here and guard our things."
He walked down to the shore where wavelets lapped against the sands. Looking back, he saw her lay down on her towel, then she unhooked her bikini top and pulled it out from beneath her. No tan lines for Heather, Hershel thought, except on her firm behind. It was such a sexy sight and he felt his cock grow even stiffer and push out the front of his trunks.
But his erection didn't last as soon as he hit the water. Despite the day's heat, it was so cold. The lake water felt like it had come direct from the Canadian Arctic. He half expected to see icebergs floating past, probably with polar bears and walruses sitting on them. He gasped with shock and his skin tightened and his penis shriveled to something microscopic and hid deep in his body.
"It's freezing!" he called out.
Heather merely waved a hand in response. He swam for several minutes, more to say he'd done it and also to show Heather that he was a real man and not afraid of a little chill. But he was no Navy SEAL and enough was enough. Stay in much longer and he'd get hypothermia, he thought. Turn into a block of ice or something. He started to swim back to the shore when it happened. He felt something on his leg. Looking down he expected to see he'd snagged a piece of trash but what he saw was worse, far worse, than his worst nightmare. On his leg were five or six small jellyfish. Small translucent blobs about the size of a quarter. Immediately, his leg went into spasm and paralyzing pains seared into his brain. He cried out, stopped swimming and instantly his head went underwater, filling his lungs with cold water. He splashed up to the surface, coughing and spluttering and screamed out, "Help, I've been stung."
At once, Heather sat up on the beach towel. Even in his shock and terror, he saw that she hadn't put on her bikini top from sunbathing and her full breasts swayed beautifully. Her areoles were perfectly circular and chestnut brown in color while her nipples stood out proudly. If these are my last moments; thank you, God, for that sight, he thought. An instant later, the view was hidden as she threw her arm over her boobs.
"What's happened?" she called out in alarm.
