Dillan didn't know the specifics of a gale-force wind, but by the force of this wind, he thought it should have qualified. He wiped the fine film of sand from his clean-shaven face. "Forget it," he told his companion, who peered up the boardwalk. "It's a stupid bet. I call it off."
"What?" Joel said, turning to him. "You can't do that! You made a deal, man."
"Yeah, well, I don't feel so desperate anymore. This wind is bumming me out."
"Keep your hopes alive, my friend. There's one coming now."
Dillan followed his friend's gaze and saw her, way down the boardwalk, walking slowly towards them.
"It's definitely female," Joel said. "I can tell by the sway of the hips."
"Yeah. And the skirt."
"You're going to do it, right? You're not going to chicken out on me, are you?" Joel pressed.
"Fuck off. You're lucky I'm a nice guy."
Joel smiled in his regular way, oblivious of Dillan's unease. "Just be grateful I understand a hungry cock. And this is a great evening, feel the passion on the wind, all stirred up. Real romantic. Just what this woman likes. Why else would she be walking along the boardwalk right now?"
Admittedly, Joel seemed to have a deeper understanding of a woman's psyche than Dillan himself did. "Why don't you get out of here, then? She'll think we're planning a gang-rape."
Joel snickered. "Sure. See you later, dude," he said and trotted off to his car, parked a short ways away, and left.
Dillan went around to the other side of the nearby tree, for a shield from the wind and sand, his back to the lake. He could bend his head forward slightly and watch her approach. She was slim, at least, and possibly older, but it was impossible to tell from this distance. He thought of Joel's comment, and wondered why she would be out here in this crazed wind, as another wave crashed on the beach. Maybe she was passionate, maybe she was out and thinking about a fuck.
She wore a wide-brimmed hat, really wide-brimmed, which was mostly flipped up along one side where the wind struck her. It was surprising that she hadn't lost it yet. Her hand came up and touched it, then fell to her side again. She wore a long, colourful skirt, which was being tugged behind her, like the wind wanted to run off with it, and consequently the curve of her hip was clearly outlined, even the long slender space between the darker lengths of her legs, lit up from the setting sun behind her, and he swallowed. She stopped on the boardwalk, turning slightly, her hand once again on her hat, and she seemed to be surveying the turbulent lake. Would she turn back? Her top and skirt clung to her front under the force of the wind, clearly outlining the roundness of her breast, flatness of her belly, and length of her leg. His cock had lifted to life. He could only hope she continued toward him.
She turned to him, and carried on walking along the boardwalk towards him.
The sun's shape distorted as it descended towards the distant crest of the lake. It cast a golden band across the water and the beach, straight to me as I paused in my walk up the boardwalk. It felt warm on my skin, its weakened rays still persistent as they passed through the thin cloth of my shirt and skirt. It helped me to think: I had to decide if I would walk all the way to the end of the boardwalk and then beyond, which had been my plan when I prepared to come out. Two men had stood by the trees as I had been walking, their silhouettes tense, like they were having an intense discussion. One of the men suddenly loped off to the slight incline next to the boardwalk, got into a car, and left, while the other man remained by the tree, although behind the trunk. That was when I had stopped to look at the lake and the setting sun.
Should I continue on, or turn back and head home?
I hated the idea of cutting short my walk-time because of a possible threat from someone; I hated to be considered a victim. My arms tensed; I had my martial arts training. I could defend myself. And besides, maybe the fellow was harmless, just out enjoying the windy beach. My steps resumed on the boards, and I looked straight ahead, keeping my neck tall.
The shadow of his head bulged out from the straight line of the tree periodically, as I continued my steps to the end of the boardwalk. My hat brim flipped up, the wind tugged on my long full skirt, pulling it up by the hem, but I held my hand at my hip and extended my fingers to keep the thin fabric down.
Beyond the boardwalk the shadows deepened through a grove of oak trees, then the small forest -- a 'green space'. The oak that the man stood behind was furthest from the forest, and closest to the boardwalk.
He stepped from behind the tree as I approached, and I sucked in my breath through my nostrils. He stood there on the sand and ran a hand through his tousled dark hair.
He was young, probably early 20's, and very good-looking in an angular way. He wore an over-sized red t-shirt and colourful bathing trunks. His arms and calves were tanned and well-muscled. He turned toward me and gave me a nod. I nodded back, smiling slightly.
"Nice night for a stroll," he said somewhat hopefully, a twinkle in his dark eyes.
"Yes, lovely night."
He smiled and looked down at his feet, a brief moment of a bashful schoolboy. I swallowed and continued past.
The boardwalk ended in a few steps. My apartment was on a street back the other way, at the other end of the boardwalk. A path was worn down through the oak grove and disappeared into the forest. I rarely met other walkers down this far, or in the forest. I heard the young man's steps on the boards behind me.
I carried on along the path, the ground softer than the boards thus slowing my pace. The cool air of the grass wafted around my ankles, spreading up my legs to my bare bottom, refreshing my freshly-shaved labia. I paused just off from the trail and faced the lake, my legs askance; the fabric of my skirt pushed against my crotch, into my folds, and I was grateful that the thin fabric was patterned with colourful flowers; moisture wouldn't show as spots.
In my peripheral vision I saw him. He had slowed along the path as he approached. I turned, and made eye-contact. He stopped and smiled, and it was perfectly charming smile.
"Sorry, I --" he started. I waited.
When he didn't finish, I said, "Is there something you want?"
He smirked and wiped a hand over his smooth face. "Just to get out of the wind. So much sand blowing about."
My brows drew in. He needed to follow me to tell me this? "There's still a strong wind here. Maybe in the forest," I suggested, motioning that way, but not wanting to take my eye off him. (If I'd been a much younger woman, I certainly wouldn't have wanted to.)
"Good idea," he said, and he kept his brown eyes on me. "Do you know the trail?"
My muscles stiffened. "Yes. It just meanders around, and there's a trail that goes up to the golf course on top of the hill."
"So you come here often." He cleared his throat nervously.
"Well, sometimes," I said.
"Maybe --" he started, then stopped again abruptly, as though he thought better of finishing his sentence. "I'm... looking for -- something," he said, faltering.
"Good luck, then."
He smiled mischievously. "I have that already."
I turned to head back to the trail, ignoring his cockiness, and continued to the shadowy forest. I didn't have to try to decipher what he meant. If I showed I was strong, he'd be dissuaded from trying to take me by force, if that was his intent.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked from behind me.
"What?!" I exclaimed and spun around. I hadn't heard his steps on the path. I looked up into his face, and silently cursed him for his impressive appearance. "That'd hardly be wise of me." My voice sounded hollow in my ears, as I took in his shoulders, his chest, his arms, and his sheer magnetism.
