I was at the beach. It was a nice day and I was working on my tan. I had on this little rainbow coloured bikini and it was very nice, suiting me admirably. It was, by the way, strictly a sun-bathing bikini. Definitely not a swimming one. The tie that ran through the bottom of the triangles that made up the breast coverings was not fastened but ran through hemmed loops. It made it very easy to adjust the bikini while wearing it but it would be an embarrassment waiting to happen if I went in the water.
Not wanting to be bothered by the local wolves, one in particular, I wasn't with the main crowd but had found myself a reasonably isolated position to relax and listen to music while I tanned.
I should have known that that wouldn't be enough to keep all the wolves away. I was lying back, eyes closed, idly conducting the song I was listening to, and I felt someone standing next to me. By felt, I mean that they were casting their shadow over me, and it was noticeable.
"You're blocking my sunlight and I'm not interested. Please go away," I said, hoping that it wasn't Chuck standing there. (The particular wolf I wanted to avoid.)
"Hullo not interested," came a warm sounding voice. "Unusual name. I'll have to remember it for my next play. I'm William Shakespeare."
At that I did open my eyes. That and the fact that William had been kind enough to move so that his shadow was no longer on me.
"William Shakespeare?" I asked. "As in the famous poet and playwright, William Shakespeare?"
"Ah, you've heard of me. Fame is so fleeting that people tend to forget you when you don't write anything new."
"Especially when you haven't written anything new in five hundred years. You look younger than I'd have expected. Not a day over eighteen."
"Oh, please. There's no need to be insulting. I'm several days over nineteen. Don't blame me for the name, please. Blame my parents. I fully intend to have my name changed once I'm twenty-one. Are you having your name changed from not-interested? Strange name, that."
"Yes, I changed it," I said with a sigh of exasperation. "It's now Ann. What are you changing your name to?"
"Leonardo DiCaprio. I'm used to people recognising my name so I thought I'd just update it to something modern."
He was kidding. I knew he was kidding but he said it with such a straight face I couldn't be certain.
"Well, it's been nice meeting you William, or Leonardo, if you prefer, but I'm busy. Why not go and play with someone who has time to spare."
"Too busy to talk? What sort of woman are you? Women love to talk. Tell me about yourself. How old are you? Do you have a boyfriend? Will you go out with me? Are you a virgin? What are my chances of getting you into bed? Little scraps of information like that just fascinate me and will help give me a well-rounded view of your personality, which will go along with your superbly well-rounded figure."
"Eighteen, no, no, none of your business, zero," I replied, hoping I'd got the answers in the correct sequence.
"Hum. So that's age eighteen, no boyfriend, you're playing hard to get, not a virgin, and I'll have to work hard to get there."
"Hold on," I said indignantly. "How does none of your business switch to being not a virgin?"
"At eighteen, if you were a virgin you'd have said so. You didn't say so, so the chances are that you're probably not."
He was right, but damned if I was going to admit it. I contented myself with glaring at him.
"Just go away," I snapped.
"But aren't you going to ask me all about myself? Women are insatiably curious. Surely you want to know more about me."
"What's to know? You're William Shakespeare, the famous poet and playwright and you died five hundred years ago. That's why you're using such old-fashioned pick-up lines. Go away."
That's the point when a fist came out of nowhere and bounced off the side of William's head, knocking him over. Standing where he had been was Chuck. So typical of Chuck and just one reason why I don't like him and will not date him. I glanced over at William to see if he was all right.
William was slowly getting back to his feet, smiling, but there was bloody murder in his eyes.
"And who might you be?"
"I'm Chuck, and you're talking to my girlfriend."
"Chuck Norris? Gosh, it's my day for meeting famous people. Why do you call her your girlfriend, Chucky?"
"I'm not Chuck Norris. I'm Chuck Jander. She's my girlfriend because I say she's my girlfriend."
"That's strange. Ann was just telling me she doesn't have a boyfriend. We were finding out about each other to see if I'd fit her requirements for her next boyfriend. Looks like you've been dumped, Chucky, so why don't you run along?"
Chuck did his flexing his muscles trick and I've got to admit he looked rather formidable. He was bigger than William, and out-weighed him considerably.
"I've got a better idea, pissant. You run along and I won't turn you into meat paste." Chuck was clenching his fists and cracking his knuckles, looking as though he'd really enjoy smashing poor William. If William had any sense he'd depart while still breathing.
"Sorry, Chucky, but you had your free hit and it wasn't a home run. Try it again and I'll be forced to take remedial action. Tell you what. I'm a poet rather than a fighter. Why don't we both compose a sonnet, winner gets the girl."
"A what?"
"A sonnet. It's a poem of fourteen lines. Ah, I'm assuming that you can count as high as fourteen?"
Chuck, amongst his other flaws, is a trifle dim at times, but even he can tell when someone's taking the mickey. His face went red, he yelled something, and charged poor William.
That was the start and the end of the fight. Chuck took two steps, fist drawn back to punch a hole in William, and William's foot connected with Chuck, kicking him squarely in the cods. Chuck didn't even scream, just collapsing to the ground in a heap, trying to wrap himself around his testicles.
William took hold of one of Chuck's arms and twisted it, hauling Chuck up onto his feet.
"Go and feel sorry for yourself somewhere else, Chucky," he told him, "and don't come back. We don't want you here and Ann doesn't want you at any time. Now get."
With that he gave Chuck a push and Chuck went staggering off, bent double and moaning.
"That was a terrible thing to do to poor Chuck," I said, finally finding my voice.
"Yes, it was, wasn't it," he said with satisfaction oozing out of his voice, sitting down next to me. "Still, it was better than the alternative. If I'd let him beat me up I'd have had to charge him with assault and battery causing grievous bodily harm and he'd have gone to prison. This way he learns a lesson and doesn't go to prison."
Somehow I doubted that. I suspect that in a fair fight William would still have won. He had moved awfully fast and struck hard and accurately. I told him so.
"Possibly," he shrugged, "but in a fight, if you don't cheat you deserve to lose. We weren't in a boxing ring or similar. Chuck wouldn't have been bothered with fighting fair or he wouldn't have attacked someone smaller than himself. Forget him."
I was quite willing to forget Chuck. William had probably done me a favour. I couldn't see Chuck chasing me now that I'd seen him defeated so easily. Too humiliating for him. Another thing that helped me forget about the fight was William's behaviour.
Do you recall how I mentioned how the tie of my bikini ran through the bottom of the breast pieces, making them easily adjustable? William had just adjusted them, sliding both triangles to the side, exposing my breasts.
"Stop that," I snapped. "What do you think you're playing at?"
"I can't help it," he said, speaking quite calmly. "I'm all hyped up after that brutal battle, my chemistry currently overloaded with adrenaline and testosterones. I've conquered the enemy and now am entitled to take his woman to show my dominance."
My hands had leapt up to cover my breasts again, but it was a bit hard with William's hands in the way. They were covering both my breasts, lightly massaging them.
