So there I was at the beach, eyeing all the lovely ladies. Isn't it amazing how the fine weather brings them out? Somehow pretty girls just seem prettier when they're with a bunch of other pretty girls.
I'd been wandering around, chatting up a few girls, being ignored by others, finding a few of them downright rude. I've always found that the rude girls are generally outnumbered by the friendly ones and when I say friendly I mean just that, the girls that automatically friend-zone you on first meeting them. If you want to get out of the friend-zone you have to put in some effort.
I don't have a problem with rude girls. I can be just as rude as they are and it's fun to see the shocked looks on their faces when someone calls them on their rudeness. Pretty girls aren't used to being challenged by men. Men are supposed to accept what they dish out. If I genuinely like a girl I'm prepared to accept a certain amount of rudeness but I do draw the line at a certain point. They actually respect that.
There was one pretty young lady who I found very attractive. She was about five foot six with beguiling curves, curves that were nicely set off by the bright yellow bikini that she flaunted. She was dark haired, brown-eyed, and had a golden tan, altogether a delightful young thing. It was a pity that she was also uber-rude.
I graciously ignored her rudeness, rising above her cutting comments. It was obvious that she wasn't going to warm up to me but that was OK. I was finding it fascinating the way she seethed whenever I came along. She just seemed to have a natural antipathy where I was concerned. Now I'm not saying that I was doing or saying anything that was deliberately designed to rile her up but. . . Ah, wait a moment. Now that I think about it I probably was. How reprehensible of me. I would need to speak to myself severely.
I happened to meet up with her as she was coming out of the water, no attached retinue for some reason, which was an unusual state of affairs.
"Hi, Jen," I said, smiling happily.
"It's Jan," she snapped at me.
"That's what I said," I replied, smile still in place.
"Oh, just go away. You make me sick," she snapped.
"Really? Odd. Don't let it worry you. I have a cure for that."
"Suicide?" she asked, sounding very hopeful.
"Death by frostbite, possibly," I said, "but what I really meant is that you should get to know me better. A lot better. Why not come for a walk with me and we can spend some quality time together, where we can get to know each other a little more, ah, intimately."
For a moment there I thought she was going to have a stroke. She went red and then white and then red again.
"If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting you have to be insane. There's no way that I'm going to spend time with you getting to know you more intimately."
She even put finger quotes around the 'intimately'.
"But we could have such a marvellous time," I said softly, my smile undimmed.
"You have got to be kidding," she said, speaking equally as softly and just as sincerely. "You'd have to rape me to have that marvellous time."
"Oh," I said in a surprised voice. "OK then, but you'll have to promise no screaming."
"What?" She looked at me as if I was dense.
"No screaming," I repeated. "When I drag you over behind the bushes and rape you I'll have to insist that I have your word that you won't start screaming. For a start it would hurt my little shell-like ears and for a finish it would bring a crowd who would want to see what was happening and I'm not an exhibitionist. I'm just not."
"You are insane," she gasped. "What on earth gives you the idea that I'd let you rape me?"
"Now you're the one being silly," I pointed out, at the same time cupping a hand over her elbow and starting to stroll towards the bushes at the back of the beach. "One doesn't agree to rape. It's that non-consent that makes it rape and gives it that illicit thrill. All you have to do is give your word that you won't start screaming, as that will spoil the entire ambiance of the occasion."
"Rape doesn't have an ambiance," she said. (Actually it was more of a snarl but I like to keep things friendly.)
"Of course it does," I said. "From my point of view there's the fact that I'm wielding my mastery over you and you're helpless before my base desires, not able to do anything but yield, possibly weeping quietly. From your point of view there's the utter helplessness you feel as I force my attentions upon you, knowing that your protests will fall on deaf ears."
"You are so full of it. Has it occurred to you that there's no way I'm going to put myself in a position where you have a chance to rape me?"
"Ah, Jan, you already have," I said, waving a hand around to indicate where we were. She'd been so busy trying to score off me that she hadn't even realised that I'd walked her off the beach and into the bushes. They were only waist high bushes, but once we lay down we'd effectively vanish.
"Oh, no," Jan said, turning to step back out of the bushes, surprised to find that I was still holding her arm.
"Oh, yes," I replied. "However there's still that little matter of screaming. Unless you give me your word that there'll be no screaming it'll be little fish time and I'll have to throw you back, which would be a pity. Um, excuse me for a moment."
I released her arm, took hold of her bikini bottom and pushed it firmly down, leaving her delightfully exposed. She gave a squeak and her hands dropped to cover her mons, eyes wide.
"Don't worry, no-one can see," I told her. "The bushes, remember. Apart from me, that is. What I can see is delightful and smooth. Um, I hate to sound as if I'm harping on the subject but about the screaming?"
"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of hearing me scream," she retorted.
"All right then," I said, sinking down to one knee. I took her bikini bottom from where it was tangled around her knees and pushed it down to her ankles. After that I pulled her hands away from where they hovered in front of her mons, my hands continuing to go around her and closing on her bottom. I pulled her towards me, my face pressing between her legs, my tongue already darting out to caress her naughty bits.
I wondered how she felt, standing there in plain sight, at least from the waist up, while I was effectively kissing her mound. Scandalized, to say the very least. She certainly sounded it.
"What are you doing?" she said and, yes, her voice certainly sounded scandalized. "You stop that or I'll scream."
I reluctantly pulled back and looked up at her with a sigh.
"Might I point out that you just assured me that you wouldn't scream," I pointed out. "Now you're saying you will. Which is it?"
"But - but - what do you expect? What are you trying to do?"
"I thought I'd already explained all that," I said, trying for a long-suffering voice. "I'm about to rape you and you agreed that you wouldn't scream while I did it. Now as soon as I start to get under way you say you will. Which is it? Scream or not scream?"
