Prelude - BEACHSIDE ENCOUNTER
"Novus ordo sæclorum" [A new age begins.] - Vergil
Business had been good this summer. The firm was in its best financial position in years, a change from its usual dismal performance. The hot summers never gave them a break. Work, work, work, and still lose money in the end. But this time it was different. Was it the new clients, the new properties, or the magic from the wizards in marketing?
These thoughts hammered at the small bit of pleasure Trent Booth enjoyed. Leaning on the hood of his silver Mercedes roadster, he sipped Scotch from his hip flask. Parked on the small lot and surrounded by rocky outcroppings, he watched the waves roll into the beach. The slight buzz from the single malt made the waves a solid wall of sound. It enveloped his ears and reverberated off his chest. His unbuttoned pale blue shirt rippled against the wind.
A storm was on the horizon, filling the china blue sky with ominous gray clouds. Street clothes hastily slipped over sunbathers' tanned bodies as reluctant boyfriends and husbands removed umbrellas spiked into the sand, rolled up beach towels, and marched woozy-eyed to their waiting vehicles. Others remained, either stubbornly resisting or simply forgetting the need to return to everyday life.
He took off his shirt and sleeve-less undershirt, throwing them in the trunk of the car. Then he slipped off his shoes and headed to the beach, wearing only his dress slacks and carrying a beach towel. The sand scorched his bare feet, the sun beating down mercilessly when it peaked through the clouds. There might be a storm tonight. Trent smiled at the possibility, thunderstorms always soothing him into booze-soaked unconsciousness.
Once he found a spot, he spread out his beach towel and surveyed the landscape. Thoughts of work faded, then quickly shifted.
'When was the last time I got laid?' He thought.
Work had overwhelmed him these past few weeks. He could barely remember the last time, let alone the last girl, he fucked. Behind his sunglasses, he saw a few nymphs, either playing the water or sunbathing. As his pants slipped off, the warm breeze brushed over his naked cock. The sun warmed his body as he put on a pair of black Speedos. Men far fatter and far older wore the same attire, but on Trent it streamlined his body, smoothing it until it replicated Roman statuary.
Wind brushed through his black hair as he drifted off to sleep. His rolled up slacks cushioned his head, his eyelids heavy from long nights poring over spreadsheets, budget reports, and research data. Boring, monotonous, bloodless. Straining to stay awake, he watched a couple playing tennis on the beach. The girl slapped her wooden paddle, sending the rubber ball over to her male friend. As she hit the ball, her naked breasts bounced. Her dark nipples stiffened in the cooler air. She smiled, her slender body dancing against the waves. A voluptuous blonde walked past, oblivious, talking on her cell phone.
Then it hit him: sun tan lotion! He forgot it in the car. But he kept staring at the tennis girl, his cock stiffening beneath his Speedos. She eventually faded into oblivion, the overcast sky turned black. Dreams crowded his mind, tasting her nipples, salty with sea water.
When he woke up, the beach was nearly deserted. All around him, people packed their belongings and headed to their cars. He stretched, catlike, his joints cracking. How long had he slept? To Trent, it felt like he had just arrived only minutes ago.
"What time is it?" He asked a passing couple.
"About five thirty," the man said, looking at his watch.
Trent couldn't remember the last time he checked his watch. He didn't know what time he arrived. The bewilderment left him a little edgy. The jangled nerves wouldn't be calmed by driving home in the thickening traffic, only to enter an empty beach-house. He rented a beach-house for the summer from a business associate. Up until last week he hadn't used it all. He had deals to close. Much more important than a beachside view and the pretty maid he had seen only twice.
He had the occasional weekend party, but that was it. Mostly he slept in the apartment downtown and The Residence, the family mansion within the corporate compound. Since his father owned the majority share of the company, he lived rent free. Unfortunately, with all the business and the nights in, he started to feel like a "kept woman." They paid him handsomely and he remained quiet, the integrity of the family name preserved. Catering to such an obsolete notion left him nauseous.
A half an hour ride home, a short shower, probably no more than fifteen minutes, maybe watch a little TV ...
Trent didn't want to do any math. The whole reason he drove out here meant the escape from numbers and the drudgery of constant scheduling. Every ten minute block of life needn't require regimented designation in the monthly planner.
The clouds began to fill the air with foreboding, distant thunder crackling across the bay. But on the beach, remnants of sunlight still peeked through the clouds. The sand felt soft between his toes. As evening approached the heat slightly dissipated. The beach now seemed less like an outdoor sauna. As he continued to walk, he saw an area he never knew existed. The rocks became less frequent and shade provided by monolithic hotels became replaced by trees and foliage. Giant pieces of driftwood rested on shore like giant relics, waterlogged and sun scorched.
As he walked he saw a woman on foot in the opposite direction. She had long brown hair and wore large sunglasses. Trent tried to discern the rest, but she still was too far off. She wore a blue bikini and a silken wrap around her waist.
He hazarded a wave.
She waved back.
When she finally became close enough to greet, he saw that she was an older woman. At least in these parts. If you were not eighteen to twenty-one and possessed the body of a goddess, you were an older woman. But the obsession on the young and the pliant appeared misplaced with this woman.
"Hello," Trent said.
"Hello," She answered.
Her smile cheered Trent up for some unknown reason. He witnessed his share of smooth, fit bodies with buoyant breasts and succulent nipples, but this woman's smile was actually beautiful in the profoundly genuine way not captured in fashion magazines and pornography.
"I'm Trent,"
"I'm Jocasta,"
She couldn't have been older than her thirties. As she smiled he saw her crow's feet and her veined hands. Nothing unexpected. She either had a genius plastic surgeon or a personal trainer. He didn't see any signs of the former on her naked stomach. Although thinner than other women of the same age, Trent still thought she looked rather sensuous. Not voluptuous, but also not someone afraid to eat dessert in the presence of a man.
"What brings you over here?" She asked.
"I just wanted to walk,"
"Away from all the beautiful beach bunnies?"
"No, not that. I had a long day at work,"
"Poor baby," She made a mock sad face, then giggled.
"No ... I mean ..."
"Don't apologize," Her hand touched Trent's arm. The momentary contact sent electricity through him. "This is the beach. The water is warm and the sand is soft. This is the last place for apologies,"
The cool wind made her nipples stiffen. Trent tried not to stare.
She shivered from the unexpected breeze. After noticing Trent's area of interest, she took off her glasses and crossed her arms. Blocking his view, she frowned and tapped her foot.
Taking off her glasses let him see her green eyes. A little smirk sneaked into her scowl, making her cheekbones shine.
"I ... uh ..." Left speechless, he scratched his head.
"You're blushing!" She held his wrist and laughed. "You're actually blushing!"
"Sorry, I mean ... I didn't ..."
"What did I say about apologies?" She hooked her sunglasses on to the front of her bikini top. "Do you know the last time a boy blushed because of me?"
'Boy?' Trent thought. 'She couldn't be that much older than him? Could she?'
Trent became so distracted trying to think of an answer for her question, that he completely forgot about his stiffening erection. It ached to break free from the confines of his swimming briefs.
