The jeep shone cherry red in the afternoon sun and Dave squinted against the glare that was reflected off the hood. He'd refused Amanda's offer of sunglasses earlier that morning and now regretted it. His eyes darted over her and he noted the slightest smile on her lush, heart shaped lips. It was that quirky half-smile that said she was up to something. Though, through the dark lenses of her own sunglasses... he wasn't sure what.
She drove about fifteen miles per hour too fast and had her music about a thousand decibels too high... as usual. The bass vibrated the rearview mirror slightly with its rumbling sound as she gripped the steering wheel loosely with one hand as the other arm hung out the window. Up would go that hand as it caught the wind, bobbing like an airplane as she sailed it through the harsh breeze kicked up by the car's passing. She seemed to barely pay attention to the road at all, focused on some inner reflection that kept her quiet... but for that smile.
She wore nothing but her bathing suit and a towel that she'd knotted around her waist. The suit was a grayish silver with a crisscross pattern down the back. Two pieces, a tank-top and a bikini bottom, and wholly unflattering. Though it didn't much match her skin tone... it was more suited to her spirit. It shimmered slightly in the sun, gray at one angle, silver at another... like a fish. He didn't like it, but it was obvious that she did.
The navy blue towel that she'd wrapped around her waist, fell open on one side, giving him that same, familiarly arousing glimpse of her upper thigh. His hand reached out of its own volition and rested there, feeling the warmth of her flesh as it seeped into his own. Hot, her skin was hot... and though his fingers never roamed much higher than mid-thigh... he could swear he felt the heat radiating from beneath the crotch of the suit. She smiled wider at the contact and just kept driving.
The music thrummed loudly and Dave had a hard time identifying the song. He guessed it was Bush though, seeing as how she was going through her Gavin Rossdale phase. Hell, she'd even named the Jeep, Gavin... Gav for short... and she referred to the car by its name at all times. When he'd asked about it she'd gone into a rather long list as to the many traits that the Jeep shared with the singer. Sexy, she said, hot, she said, gets around, she said... definitely
male
... she said. Amanda didn't drive a girl car, she said... only a handsome man could show her off satisfactorily. And she was right...
He also knew that she enjoyed telling people she loved 'Bush' and rode 'Gavin'...
Only someone as familiar with her quirks as Dave, would understand the strange insanity that prompted her to make such odd statements.
The car turned as she pulled into a parking lot that was still just beginning to fill up. Early morning and she always wanted to beat the crowds. Vanderbilt Beach, she said, was one of the most beautiful beaches she'd ever seen. As she pulled Gavin into a parking spot and turned him off, Dave practically leaped out the other side of the car. He brushed a few dark locks of hair from his face and watched her body move as she opened the trunk and pulled out a pile of towels.
God, she had the most incredible walk. It was that completely natural, completely female walk. Hips swaying, shoulders back, chest thrust forward. Her nipples were hard. Dave looked up and saw her looking at him. She smiled a bit enigmatically and thrust the towels into his hands before striding off toward the beach. He watched her ass twitch a bit as she walked. One cheek rising as the other fell... hips swaying. Hypnotizing.
Amanda had so many curves that he'd barely begun to map the geography of her body. With a D cup chest and flaring hips, she could have given Marilyn Monroe a run for her money. Her tiny waist made it impossibly to wear any kind of fitted pants. Everything was low riding, everything was conforming... molded to her body like a second skin. She was tan between the criss-cross pattern of her bathing suit, he could see lighter skin underneath the straps... he could see a black, tribal tattoo just peeking out from beneath the waistband of her bikini bottoms. She turned and looked back at him and urged him to hurry with the nodding of her head in the direction of the beach.
Past an old man selling hot dogs from a vendor attached to the back of his bike, past a sign that said 'keep off dune' (though he couldn't seem to find any dune but that of which the beach itself was comprised), and onto a small boardwalk that led to the beach itself. As he looked out over the sand and ocean he was somewhat taken aback. Never in his history of muddy brown lake beaches had he seen anything like this. Sand so white it nearly blinded him and water so clear it could only be the Gulf of Mexico.
Oddly enough, the people all seemed to migrate to the left side of the boardwalk, leaving the right side relatively empty. It was in this direction that Amanda headed, kicking off her shoes along the way and scooping them up into her hands so that she could traipse barefoot through the 'dune'.
Though this side of the beach was nearly deserted, there was a restaurant toward the street where people sat at an outside balcony and dined. A few yards away there was also a small family. A mother, father, and a young boy who charged up and down the beach pitching shells at low flying seagulls and trying to scoop up minnows in a purple bucket. Amanda laughed at the boy, shaking her head at his antics. That small rustle of her hair sent the clean scent of her shampoo wafting to his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. The dark brown curls were pulled up in a loose half-ponytail that was really more of a bun... but wild ringlets escaped and clung to a bit of moisture that had begun to build up on her skin.
He had the strangest temptation to lick away the salty beads of sweat that gathered just at the hairline. God, she was so tan. Four months in paradise had done her good. She slathered herself in some tan enhancing SPF 4 lotion that smelled like oranges, then came after him with a stronger bottle of Banana Boat. With the twirling of her finger she gestured for him to turn around and he did so, peeling off his shirt as he went and presenting her with his bare back.
He heard her chuckle, and glared at her over his shoulder. His disgruntled expression just made her laugh harder. He was white. He knew it. Canada wasn't anywhere near sunny Florida.. and winter had been especially cold this year.
She squeezed a bit of lotion onto her hand, then placed it flat on his back. He gasped slightly and shivered as the cool liquid came in contact with his hot skin. She rubbed then, easing the lotion into his flesh in gentle circular motions. Down his back, around to his waist, up over his shoulders. Her arms slid around his chest from behind and, as she leaned into him, he leaned back and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair. She massaged his chest, flicking her thumbnails over his nipples before tickling her way over his stomach and following the little trial of hair over his bellybutton and down beneath the waistband of his trunks.
He was semi-hard in an instant. The second her fingers touched him his cock stirred, coming to life beneath the warmth of her fingers. He groaned roughly and leaned his head back, resting it on her shoulder. Amanda laughed, shoving him forward and stepping away from him. He groaned then, agonized and torturous as she skipped away from him to the water's edge. Slowly he followed after, walking slowly until his erection subsided.
Amanda dipped her feet into the water, then waded in to her calves. The gulf was so clear that he could see straight through to the bottom several feet out. He could make out everything... the swarm of minnows milling in the sun-warmed sea just offshore, a clump of seaweed swaying beneath the surface, the black tattoo on Amanda's foot as it was slowly buried by each crashing wave. Everything.
She cast off the towel an instant later, and flung it back toward the rest of their belongings. Dave set one foot in the water and shivered before retreating backwards. Amanda looked back and laughed and gave him a look as if to say:
"You lived in Canada for chrissakes... and you think –this- is cold?
