Sunday, January 29, 2012

Kimmydonn Week 88: A Private Beach


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Picture 2

Kimmydonn's Choice: Both


A Private Beach

Salt stung her eyes and filled her nose. Deb had looked forward to being on the beach, in the ocean, but she hadn’t expected this.

Russel had surprised her with the ticket.

“I have a conference in Hawaii. Can you believe it? I thought, maybe, you’d like to tag along.”

“Are you kidding?!” She looked at the printout in her hand. The flight was in three weeks. Spring break. She’d already planned to take the time off, but she’d thought she was visiting her sister in Vegas. Hawaii? Valerie would understand.

Not ten minutes off the plane, despite the cooler temperature and gray sky, Deb was walking the beach hand-in-hand with Russel. She didn’t care that it wasn’t warm. She wanted the seawater under her feet, the sand between her toes. Russel had been quick to oblige her. He spent the whole day at her side, until their toes grew cold and wrinkly. She couldn’t think of a better way to spend the day.

“I’m so glad you came with me,” Russel whispered as he pulled her into his side for a kiss. He felt so warm in the damp mist that had soaked through her top. She wished she’d been smart enough to bring a sweater or hoodie. Who would have thought it got cold in Hawaii? “But I have to do the conference thing tomorrow during the day. Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” she promised. “I can find something to amuse myself.”

“Just don’t be so amused that I can’t get your attention later.” He hugged her and let his hands slip into the back of her shorts.

“Never,” she promised, and their lips met again as the surf washed in around them.

The storm that had brought the cooler temperatures left Deb in the hotel room for most of the next day. She wandered the lobby and a few nearby shops, but couldn’t really spend time outside, to her disappointment.

She did, however, find an advertisement that piqued her interest.

Private Beach
Available Thursdays
Call for details

Russel would still be in the conference on Thursday, but he could meet her there afterward. The storm wasn’t expected to last more than a day, so Thursday should be beautiful. Deb called the number.

“Yes?” a man answered.

“Oh, hello, I’m calling about your private beach. I was wondering if it was available this Thursday. My boyfriend and I are only here for the week.”

There was silence on the other end.


“Yes, it is available this Thursday. When would you and your boyfriend be arriving?”

“Um... I’m not sure. Also, the ad didn’t say what you charge.”

“Oh, no fee.”

Deb’s brow furrowed. It couldn’t be free. “What’s the catch?”

“It’s my beach. That’s the catch,” he said, his voice husky. “I’ll be on it as well.”

“Oh!” Deb said in relief. “That’s fine. Well, Russel won’t be done until around five, but could I come by sooner?”

“You can come by whenever you like,” the man said, his words slow and thick. She wondered if he was Polynesian. He sounded vaguely like the girl at the front desk.

“Great! Where are you?” She jotted down the address, eager to tell Russel all about it.

On Thursday, Russel woke her as he dressed for his conference. “So, I’ll meet you over there?” he checked, looking at the address she’d put on his phone.

“Yeah, I’m going to head there soon. Go for a swim.”

“Have fun,” he said, kissing her cheek.

Donning a bikini beneath her shorts, Deb slung a beach bag with towel, lotion, book, and other incidentals on her shoulder. She decided to walk rather than call a taxi. It took her nearly three quarters of an hour, but the day was so nice after the storm, with the sun streaming through the palms, that she didn’t mind.

The last fifteen minutes were spent passing plantations. She could see row after row of mangoes and then pineapples. At last she came to an iron gate between stone pillars. There was an intercom fit into one of them.

“Hello? This is Deb. I called the other day.”

There was no answer, but the gate opened. She felt more nervous as she walked down the long drive to the mansion that was set at the end of it. She couldn’t be in the right place. She started to walk around the house and saw the ocean and beach that fanned out behind. The walk to beach was easily as long as the driveway to the house.

“Aloha,” someone called.

Deb turned and saw a man on one of the balconies of the house. He wasn’t Polynesian, not with dirty blond hair, but he was easily as tan as any of the natives. She shaded her eyes and waved up at him. His brightly patterned shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a chest more toned than Russel’s and lacking any hair. He had a tattoo on his left pec, but she couldn’t make it out. He was younger than she had supposed.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he told her, taking a sip from the coffee mug in his hand. “If you want a cup, come on inside.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she said, but the man turned and entered the house, coming out through the french doors at the back of the house.

“Please, come inside. At least a cup of coffee. The ocean isn’t going anywhere.”

She smiled and walked through the door he held open for her. “Thank you. You know, I never got your name.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t know yours either, Deb, until you rang today.” He reached past her to pull a mug from a cupboard. She glanced up at his arm and then down at his chest. The tattoo was an orchid. “I’m Vincent.”

“That’s pretty,” she said, reaching out to touch the flower. She pulled her hand back quickly. “I’m sorry, I mean-”

He laughed again, tracing it with his own finger after setting the mug down. “It is, isn’t it? My ex-wife’s favorite.”

Deb closed her eyes and cursed her own bad luck. “I really didn’t mean-”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Water under the bridge. They grow here, so it reminds me of home.”

“It’s very nice,” she said again, fixing her coffee with cream and sugar. “Do you live here alone?”

He looked around the spacious kitchen and breakfast nook. “I’m afraid so. I have clients that use the place the rest of the week, but Thursdays are mine.”

“Oh, then you don’t want-” she started to set her cup down and back away.

He put his hand around hers on the mug, so she couldn’t let go. “I wouldn’t have offered my beach if I didn’t want people to use it. Please, let’s take a walk,” he suggested.

Deb felt a little nervous alone with the strange man who was only a few years older than herself. Walking helped with that, and the sounds and smell of the ocean washed away any anxiety that remained. They chatted amiably about the island and Deb felt a little less like a stranger by the end of it.

“You have a gorgeous beach, Vincent.”

He smiled. “It’s nice to have someone to share it with.” He reached out and brushed Deb’s cheek lightly with his fingertips. “Someone who appreciates it.”

She blushed a little and turned back toward the house, her mug empty.

“Let me take that. I have a few errands to run, so you can have a few moments to yourself.”

“Thank you,” she said again.

Deb barely waited for Vincent to reach the house before stripping off her shorts and running into the surf. She dove under and let the eddies and currents toss and turn her before fighting them enough to surface for air. She swam out a few hundred yards and floated, letting the swells carry her back to shore.

“There’s something I forgot to tell you.”

Deb sat up, startled at the voice. It was Vincent, and he was standing just behind her. She turned and looked up his bare legs, his bare... everything. She bit her lip and looked away.

He slipped a finger under her bikini strap and she jumped again, slapping her hand over his.

“There’s a no swimsuit policy on my beach.”

Deb started to pull away, but he didn’t let go and the strap snapped.

“Who do you think you are?” she asked, holding her suit together.

“I think I’m the owner of this beach. And I think I’d like to see you on the sand.”

“I don’t think-”

He smiled and held his hand out, not touching her, just palm out. “Just see. I understand you came with someone. He’s welcome to leave his suit behind as well.”

Deb stomach flipped a couple times. “You watch?” she asked, astounded.

“When I’m not invited,” he admitted. He knelt lower until his nose was nearly touching hers. “Unless you’d like to invite me?”

Her mouth worked on air. She should tell him to go to hell. She should grab her bag and march out of there. Instead, she had the odd desire to stay, to enjoy his beach. “You won’t let Russel know you’re here?”

His smile widened. “I can stay out of sight if you’d like.”

She licked her lips then eased the bottoms off her suit and released the other bikini strap. Vincent was true to his word and she only felt his breath. He was so close, over her collarbone, her shoulder, her ear.

“You look amazing, Deb. I hope Russel tells you that. Does he know how lucky he is? Does he make you feel the way you should?” His breath moved to her back now, blowing down her spine. She felt sand all over her, but grains were dropping as he breathed on them. She shivered.

“Can you show me how he makes you feel?” Vincent asked.

Deb’s eyes flew open. Vincent was still behind her but she could twist her neck to find his eyes, sea-green, like the ocean behind him.

“Can I show you how I’d make you feel?” He shifted on his knees around her and Deb’s eyes locked on his lap, on what stood there, taunting her.

“How many?” she managed to croak out. She couldn’t explain why she felt this way, why she didn’t turn and run, but she was too curious.

“How many what?”

“How many girls do you lure in?”

He sighed, and reached his fingers toward hers. He didn’t touch them, and she moved her hand the minute amount to lace her fingers with his.

“Almost none. You are the first to come alone in a very long time. In fact, you’re the first this year to call me. Very few stay.”

Deb slowly lifted her eyes to meet his again. “Don’t you dare tell my boyfriend,” she told him, then she slid forward and ran her hand over Vincent’s tattoo.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he answered, sweeping her hair over her shoulder so it hung curling down her back. Then he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over it. “I really was just hoping to see you.” His eyes flicked briefly from her eyes to her chest. “And now I can’t seem to look away.” His eyes didn’t dart again, holding on hers as the waves crashed four times, five, six.

Deb couldn’t take the tension anymore. She leaned forward and kissed Vincent, wrapping her hands around his shoulders. He fell backward, pulling her atop him.