Beach Stud
Returning from my early morning three-mile jog, I unlock the door to the beautiful beach condo, pour myself a nice tall glass of ice water, and gulp it down like there's no tomorrow. It's only once I set the now-empty glass into the sink and turn that I see the dark red long duffle bag on the living room floor. I also notice a particular pair of sandals missing from the mat by the door and know exactly what to do after washing my face and changing clothes.
********
With my pores happily washed and my sandy blonde hair tied back in a very perky ponytail, I throw on that white bikini with the gold polka dots, then pull on my black denim short-shorts over the bottoms.
Leaving the house, I shade my eyes with my hand, looking out at the beach for the typical line of girls a few feet from the shore and head down to
join
them.
********
Taking those couple of steps down to the sand, I occupy the space at the end of their already four-person chain on the beach. "Hey ladies," I say, making my presence known, "Seeing anything good out in the water today?"
"Oh my god, yes! Do you see that guy coming in with his surfboard? The one with the really dark hair and those black trunks with the weird neon design?"
The second Barbie in the row explains. "Oh wow. He is hot. With that sculpted body and those amazing eyes..." I add.
As he steps onto the shore the shallow water ebbing and flowing over his feet, I call out, "Hey golden boy," to which he points at himself to clarify, "Yeah, you in those black and green trunks," the Beach Barbies staring in awe at my boldness. I gaze as he jogs over, watching how that amazing firm body doesn't have an ounce of spare fat that jiggles when he moves.
"Hey, what's up?" he asks, looking at me with those gorgeous glowing sky-blue eyes under that messy onyx hair.
"I was actually wondering if you could help me out with something; see I moved in to that condo right over there last week and the new stove I got was delivered last night. Can you help me get it in my unit?"
He asks, "What floor do you live on?"
"Second," I answer promptly, "What's your price?"
"Hmm, how about you do a dance for me without any clothes?" he asks, just as brazenly.
"What about a hand job?" I counter.