The Beach Pt. 1

Work has been crazy these past couple of months. With things picking back up in the industry, I’ve seen the overtime at work picking up as well. Three months of thirteen on and one off has more than took its toll on my mind, body, and soul; not to mention, these are twelve hour days I’m putting in. It was time for a change of seen and a chance to reset myself.

“I’m using my vacation time, I need to get away for a bit. I figure with things starting to level out, now is as good a time as any,” I told my boss one morning.

“Good! You know things are still rolling on, but you have put in more than exceptional work lately. How much are you taking?” he asked with a fraudulent excitement.

“Two weeks. I have it saved up and with this overtime, I have plenty of extra dollars to fold.” I tell him matter of factly.

With my vacation approved and my mind made up, it was time to find a destination. After a few searches around one of my favorite areas in old Florida, I came across what I though was a scam. A cozy beach house that was recently renovated, had 5 bedrooms, and was just a short walk down to the sand, all for an easy thousand for the week. There’s no way this is legit, I thought. I dug around the webpage and found the owners direct number.

“Hey, I’m calling about your beach house up the road from Grayton. Is it vacant and is the price actually a thousand for a week?” I asked.

“Yessir,” the man on the phone drags out. “We just finished renovating it about two weeks ago. That price is set for that because we’re hoping to find a tenant that can do some light work while staying there. All I need them to do is run the heater we installed on the pool every night and report back that it’s working well. I know this isn’t much of a job, but I would like to keep track with it for the first few weeks to make sure all is well.”

“Well, I believe I’m up for that job,” I laugh. “Actually, I was hoping to book two weeks. I really only need a soft place to sleep and a refrigerator to keep the beer cold; a heated pool and large beach house would be an added bonus.”

“I tell you what, you come down for two weeks, run that heat pump for me, and keep the place neat, I’ll let you stay for $1500. How does that sound?” The man proposed.

“Sir, you have a deal!” I confirmed.

The drive down was peaceful. I decided to get up early and head out before sun up. Partly to beat the traffic through Atlanta, partly to make the most of the time I have off. With a playlist built heavily from the seventies and a coffee mug full of joe, I was set.

I pull into the driveway a little after noon. With the truck unpacked and a thorough solo tour of the house, I have decided the main two places I’d be were the kitchen and the master bedroom that had a set of French doors that opened to a balcony. As I stood there, my elbows on the railing, I could only think of the cool morning breeze waking me in the mornings and the cup of Jittery Joe’s I’d enjoy soon after that early morning wake up. Considering all I brought with me as far as food is concerned was a can of coffee, it was time for me to grab some groceries.

I knew there was a Publix tucked away just a few miles down from my house, so that’s where I decide to go. I was here for two weeks, so only the necessities were going into my buggy. Bacon, eggs, and a loaf of sourdough bread for the mornings. Lunch meat and chocolate chip cookies to pack down to the beach. I was especially happy to find Modelo’s were on sale and they stocked with cases of cans; my beer of choice. Looking down into my buggy, I was happy with my grocery run until everything came to a crashing halt.

Not paying attention, I ran my buggy into a lady’s who was coming off the isle next to mine.

“I am so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention!” I quickly let out.

“No no! It’s okay, I was looking up and not watching were I was going!” said the beautiful woman in front of me. I couldn’t help but fall into her beauty as she stood there wearing that orange sundress with thin spaghetti straps lapped over her dark, sun kissed shoulders.

“Are you okay?” I asked her concerned.

“Oh yes, I’m fine! I just hope my beer isn’t shaken up too badly.” She says playfully.

I look down into her buggy and smile, “Modelo, what a GREAT choice of beer!” I say as my smile widens.

“Look at that! Looks like you have a good taste in adult beverages as well,” she says, “most of the guys your age are out on the beach, pounding those seltzers drinks and making a fool of themselves.”

Not trying to buy into the age comment as this lady was in her mid forties if I had to guess, I respond with a, “I like to think I’m cut different from most guys my age; if I’m pounding anything on the beach, it sure isn’t going to be seltzers.”

“Well, what do you usually pound on the beach?” She asks with a stern but fun look to her feminine face.

No way, she called my bluff. I said it halfway hoping it would pass by but maybe leaving her with the feeling that a 29 year old just flirted with her, but she actually picked it up and hit it back to me. “Like I said, not seltzers, not sure if it would be any kind of drink, honestly,” I say with as cool of confidence as I could.

“Well, I hope you enjoy your Modelo’s as much as I will mine. And make sure you wear your sunscreen!” She says playfully as she begins pushing her buggy beside mine as she passes by.

“I would say, ‘you too’ but it looks like you have the sun tan under control.” I say as she’s passes next to me. She turns and and smiles the most breathtaking smile I’ve seen in years. Without another word, I watch her as her dress dances and sways down the isle; brushing just over her pretty flip-flopped feet and painted toes, the white popping off her dark skin.

What a rush, talking and flirty with such a woman. Her feminine energy was intoxicating. Definitely wasn’t what I expected to find on my first day down here, but it was certainly welcomed. Her husband must be a happy man, I thought as I loaded my groceries in the truck.

“Georgia, huh?” the familiar voice calls out.

Turning, I see her once more, pushing her buggy down the parking lot. “Yes ma’am, I’m down here for some much needed me time.”

“Oh don’t call me ma’am, you’ll make me feel old!” she fires back to me.

“I’m sorry, that’s just the nature of us Georgia boys; we are raised to say ma’am no matter a lady’s age. What should I call you to avoid that near fatal mistake again?” I ask, proud of myself for such a smooth delivery.

“I’m Ashley, you can call me Ashley. Though, this may be the only time you get to.” She says, concerned.

“Well, Ashley, it was fun talking to you and I’m happy to find there’s someone around with good taste in beer,” I return, “hopefully I’ll see you on the next grocery run.”

With that, I loaded my swelled chest into the truck and drove off. Breathing for what seemed the first time in an hour, I was filled with an energy I haven’t felt in years. This trip was already proving to be worth it.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/o01f7t/the_beach_pt_1