"If you put it anywhere else in the world it would be tacky," someone told Neil once. They had been talking about the little surfer-pub on the promenade, and Neil was a local there. He'd grown up in the little seaside town, and had seen it grow and shrink with the seasons. Already the long hot summer was starting to condense into a beautiful autumn, and the tourists had blown away like tumbleweeds, back to their metropolises and suburban sprawls.
At 23, Neil was an old soul; most of the local kids went away to inland universities and colleges, but Neil had chosen to travel- far and long. He had finished his studies the year before, and then gone sailing, and now he had time on his hands till his next delivery assignment, delivering luxury yachts from one playground to another.
He was tall and lean and sunburned, and the first time he met Micci, he prowled into the pub and stalked up to the end of the bar. The place was almost deserted, and only the locals frequented it in the off-season. Paul was in his usual spot, operating the pinball machine like a surgeon, mute and motionless save his gunfighter fingers. He also owned the pub. "Hiya, Neil- grab a beer!" He called out, not straightening up or looking around. "With ya now! Dammit- Aah!" as the last silver ball was swallowed.
Paul's girlfriend, Linda- heavily tattooed and pierced appeared round the service door and hugged Neil. "Welcome back, sailor! 'Ow long you back for? Beer?"
She ushered him round to their table, and Linda moved some paperwork to one side. "Bloody accounts," she muttered "always have to pay the damn bills, and we've had a HUGE season while you were away, luv."
As Paul returned from the fray, a compact blonde woman in her early thirties came in and joined them at the table. "Neil- this is Micci." said Paul, indicating a paper- and file-free chair.
Micci smiled and sat down. "Nice to meet you," she said. Neil admired her as she sat down. She was petite, with the telltale lean look of a serious swimmer or surfer, and from what he could see, her compact figure looked as toned as an athlete's.
Micci was wearing a pair of very short denim cut-offs and a tank-top over a bikini, and Neil's eyes kept getting drawn to her full, heavy breasts and very spectacular cleavage. Her strong smooth legs tapered down from a beautifully round little butt and hips which tucked into a small waist and flat stomach.
Over a few beers they chatted, and Micci kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. She was absolutely charming, Neil thought, and her foot kept touching his thigh when she crossed her legs. Neil admired her as they talked, and Linda and Paul kept bringing fresh, bitterly cold beers to the table.
"It's getting late- I must go- where do you live?" Micci asked.
Neil told her his address.
"That's right next door to me- want to come over sometime?"
"Tonight's good- shall I bring some beers?" asked Neil.
"Grab some from the fridge, luv," interjected Linda "and just close the door when you go, luv. Paul- Neil and Micci are going now!"
Neil grabbed a six-pack from the fridge, and said goodnight to Paul, who was finishing off in the kitchen. He ushered Micci out of the front door, and they walked down the deserted promenade, looking at the waves. As they wandered and chatted, Neil felt Micci's small hand steal into his. His cock grew heavy, and he felt a twist of butterflies in his stomach. Cautiously, he disengaged his hand and slipped his arm round Micci's waist. They walked on, quietly. Neil was sure Micci could hear his heart pounding, and he looked at her as they walked up her stairs.
She smiled as they walked up to her apartment, and Micci opened the door.
"Welcome- would you like a beer now? Bomb them in the fridge over there and let's grab a seat on the verandah. It's very hot tonight, isn't it?"
"Sure- thanks tons." Neil answered as he followed Micci's direction to the kitchen with the beers. He put the pack in the fridge, took two out, and Micci stepped out of her bedroom onto the verandah. She had shed her tank-top and cutoffs, and was just wearing her navy bikini-top and a mid-thigh-length wrap. Her heavy breasts jutted out provocatively from the balcony cups of the bikini, and Neil's cock twitched. He sat down quickly on the divan, and Micci sat beside him.
"Cheers! To new friends!" she toasted, and they clinked bottles.
In the half-light, Neil took stock of Micci. She had sun-bleached dirty-blonde hair tied back on her head, and a honey golden complexion. Her green-blue eyes sparkled when she spoke, and her mouth revealed small, even, very white teeth. Her body was trim and well toned, and she exuded a comfortable air of friendliness. Neil felt at home in her company, as if they had been friends for years rather than hours.
As the time wore on, and their conversation hadn't even begun to flag, Micci got up and put the kettle on. Neil adjusted his uncomfortable cock while she was gone. The sight of her luxurious breasts and heart-shape butt and the thought of the woman perhaps wanting more than drinks made his cock stiffen. He untucked his light shirt and adjusted his rigid cock. Already it was snaking down the leg of his trousers, and ached to be freed; to be liberated, played with, teased.
His mind was racing when Micci returned and sat down closer to him, putting two coffees on the table in front of them.
"I think you're really beautiful," she said, "and I just want to admire you."
She looked at the young man. He was well over six foot tall, and he had the lean frame and wide shoulders of an athlete- a swimmer or an oarsman. His dark tan and blue eyes gave him a captivating appearance, and his shyness was really appealing to many women.
Micci curled up to him, and Neil put his arm round her. Without thinking, he bent down and kissed her, softly on the lips.