I was facing a long lunch break, having gone to lunch early and not having any meeting scheduled until after two, so I decided to take a stroll on the beach.
Just casually strolling along, admiring nature, admiring the young lovelies scattered around the beach. Not all that many of them which was not surprising, seeing it was a normal workday, but there were a few. Mainly young mothers from what I could see, the main clue being all those young children running around. Not wanting to find myself treading toddlers under foot I deviated onto that stretch where the sand is met by the encroaching grass, grass that is named surprisingly enough as 'beach grass'. The grass did make for a firmer footing.
Along the back of the grass, up against the fence that marked the division between beach and public highway, there was a row of beach boxes. These beach boxes are a bit of an anachronism, being built in the early 1900's. You can't build one now. The councils won't allow it. All you can do is keep your box in good repair if you happen to be one of the lucky owners. If a box falls down, bad luck. You can't build a replacement.
I was passing one of these boxes and noticed that the door was open. It's just human habit to look through an open door, especially if it was normally closed. The box was quite nicely fitted out. There was carpet on the floor, a small table and chairs, a picture on the wall, a full length mirror, and the gem of the lot, a young lady, topless, looking over her figure in the mirror.
Now I suspected that the young lady hadn't realised that the box door had swung open. She was standing there, checking herself out, lifting her breasts and giggling when she let them drop and they bounced. Bounced very nicely, too. It seemed to me, as a concerned citizen, that I should let her know that her door was open.
I gave a discreet cough and she spun around to see who was there, which was rather indiscreet of her, considering the way she was dressed. Or not dressed in this case. She promptly gave a small scream and it was hand-bra time which was a great pity. She really did have very nice breasts. Not too big, not too small. At least, that was my considered opinion.
"Excuse me," I said, seeing I had her attention. "I thought perhaps you didn't realise that you'd left the door open."
"OK. Thank you. Good bye."
Anyone would think she was in a hurry for me to go away. Couldn't be that of course. She wouldn't deliberately give the bum's rush to a fine upstanding chap like me, so I ignored her hasty comment.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"Why?"
"Why do women answer questions with a question instead of answering the actual question?"
"Why do you assume we do?" she said indignantly, and I sighed.
"Tell me your age," I said. Not a question but an instruction. Maybe that would work better.
"Eighteen, but you still haven't said why you want to know."
"I needed to know if I had to beat a hasty retreat or if I could continue talking for a bit longer. Children get so upset by little things but seeing you're an adult. . ." I shrugged to indicate that I thought everything was fine.
"As far as I'm concerned you can feel free to beat your hasty retreat. The hastier the better as far as I'm concerned."
"No hurry," I said comfortably. "Before I toddle along would you be so kind as to drop your hands. They're interfering with my vision of perfection."
"No. Go away."
"Hmm. You know, I bet I could make you move your hands without touching your arms or using any force."
"You could not. Not going to happen, no way, no how."
"Yeah, it will," I said softly. "And if you drop your hands then I'm entitled to give your breasts a quick kiss."
"Not going to happen," she insisted and I winked at her.
"Watch," I said.
I don't think it occurred to her just how close I was. Those boxes are really very small. I reached over, slid a couple of fingers into the waist of her bikini pants and started sliding them down. She squawked and grabbed at her pants. In that situation, what girl wouldn't?
She yanked her pants back into place, blushing madly, remembered her toplessness and hastened to re-establish a hand-bra. My hands were there first, not to grab her breasts but to stop her covering them up.
"Hold it a moment. You lost the bet, remember."
Leaning forward I brushed my lips across her nipples and then stepped back again. A very light touch but she certainly felt it. Even though she slapped her hand-bra back on I could see her nipples puckering.
"I didn't accept any bet," she said furiously.
"Maybe not, but I did. Anyway I've taken my payment so why worry. Anyway, I'll give you another chance."
"What do you mean, another chance? I don't want another chance. I want you to go away."
"Relax. You're just getting yourself all worked up over nothing. Just stand the way you are, covering your charms with your hands. Ah, on second thoughts you could move your hands a little. No? I didn't think so. Like I said, relax for a moment."
With that I reached over and slipped her bikini bottom down again while she just stood there as though paralysed, unable to believe I was doing such a thing. Standing straight again I took hold of her wrists and moved her hands away from her breasts, then looked her over. Definitely worth looking at as far as I was concerned.
She was spluttering, trying to say something but seemed unable to express herself. Suddenly she went quite pale and found her voice.
"Oh my god," she said in low tones. "You're going to rape me."
Well, really, how had she jumped to that conclusion? Surely not because I'd pulled her bikini down? I was quite irritated at her assumption.
"Oh, come on," I protested. "I'm only looking. Admittedly you have a very desirable body, lovely breasts, shapely, ah, mons, slim figure, tanned and fit. Apart from that, what have you got going for you? OK. A very pretty face, lovely eyes, nice hair, and a very sweet voice. But just because you're flaunting your assets at me doesn't mean I'll descend to rape. I mean, there's a thousand young mothers on the beach, not fifty feet from here. One scream from you and they'll come charging to the rescue and I don't fancy my chances of running away from a horde of young women who are practised at running after small children, especially with my trousers around my ankles. I'd probably trip and fall and if that happened they'd probably bury me at the spot where I fell. I'm sorry, but you'll have to excuse me for not raping you today."
"I am not flaunting my assets, as you so crudely put it," she protested, ignoring everything else I said. Typical woman, only hearing what she wanted to hear. "You pulled down my bikini and are holding my arms."
