As she got to shore, she slid off her board, grateful for the cool water on her legs, and scampered back to the sand. How disappointing. She unceremoniously chucked her board to the sand, beside to her little blanket in the sand and the soft sided cooler that was sadly empty at the moment that they were all safe from pathways elderly couples walked back and forth on the beach, and far enough away from the boardwalk discarded trash wouldn't land on her possessions. Thank god school was back in session… finally. She didn't have to fight for space with young families and their crotch spawn, or hoards of teenagers. Of course she was technically a teenager, but whatever.
She saw the snack shop opening up, which mean she knew that Jason would be keeping an eye on her stuff with his usual grumpy man gaze, so with a grin, zoe climbed the little stone steps to the board walk, and perched on the stone wall, nice and warm from the morning sun. So there she perched, feet covered in sand, clad in her blue bikini that probably not that practical for surfing, but was sadly the only one she had. She crossed her ankles, swinging her feet back and forth, people watching for a while, eyes gazing lazily over boring people in suits as they got their morning coffee and went on their way from the expensive beach front condo’s and summer homes. She had some time to kill before anything worth eating was worth mooching from the restaurant, so she looked for something interesting to keep her entertained.
Isaiah couldn’t tell whether he was more exasperated to be up at this hour or more offended that his courier couldn’t complete a simple ******** assignment. Naturally he figured both played a part, but he often resorted to the simple mind game of determining the greater evil to distract his way through the frantic courier’s explanations. “First of all, you’re not supposed to wrap glass in plastic and expect protection.” His sigh came stepped in exasperation.
Isaiah padded down the boardwalk in black and red board shorts and a mesh jacket that left nothing to the imagination - his typical beach clothes. The cell phone remained pinned between shoulder and ear while he held sandals in one hand and a hastily ordered coffee in the other. “Right, so like I said before - if it’s cracked, you’re not getting anything out of the deal. That’s called ‘failure to deliver goods in acceptable condition’.” Which meant, of course, that he gambled and lost on that sale. Using couriers that lacked practice at acquiring goods enabled him to pay quite cheaply in comparison to professional transporters, but the lack of insurance and proper equipment occasionally bit him in the a**.
Oh, and apparent lack of common sense.
So when Isaiah passed the blue bikini babe, he was much too distracted by early morning ire to lay shadowed eyes on her proudly displayed form. He turned shortly after passing the bluenette and descended down the handful of stone steps to reach the fine sand that welled up between toes. Even at this point, he barely took notice of it beyond its welcome warmth. The tinny voice on the other line still scrambled away with pathos excuses as to why he still deserved payment for receipt of broken goods.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he said at last. “I have a call on the other line.” Without waiting for a response, Isaiah ended the call and pressed the cell phone in a mesh pocket alongside the vape he often took to public spaces. A glance about the place reminded him that, in his haste to settle business affairs before leaving the house, he forgot a ******** towel. Isaiah sighed and pressed nailed fingers to temples while he tried to separate himself from the morning’s quickly-mounting frustrations.
Zoe had turned her head to watch the mesh covered man stalk down the boardwalk. Tilting her head she kept her eyes trained on the most interesting thing there was - him - and twisted her body to watch him go down the steps to the beach. She turned and laid down, balanced on top of the little stone wall, pillowing her chin on her hands and watching him like a feline watching a pretty little bird.
“ Problems with the help? “ She had no idea who he was talking to, but she had listened to her father deal with inept suppliers enough to know that particular frustration and body language. She kicked her feet lazily in the air, letting the warmth of the sun soak up the soft rays of sun. She wasn't that far away from him, and luckily zoe wasn't exactly quiet so her voice would carry over to the black haired man over the soft murmur of people out and about on their morning business.
He looked dressed for the beach, but he seemed to have his mind all on business, and that was just tragic in zoe’s mind. No one should be at the beach on a sunny day and be worrying about work. At his height, and the height of the wall, that put her at about eye level with him at her current lounging perch.
The voice from behind drew his attention from the wretchedness of his morning, and Isaiah half-turned to discover the owner of the voice. A girl sporting a blue bikini stared lazily back at him, her body language belying a comfortable ease in scanty clothing and beach settings. She looked fairly tan, suggesting that she was outdoors often.
Unlike himself, he figured, as he tended to glow like the sun when in direct light. Her comment left him wondering if it was a polite ask for him to keep his voice down when on the phone, or if she was genuinely curious and starved enough for conversation that she would engage a stranger. Neither stood out in particular to him. “The help is becoming the problem,” he surrendered with a tactful smile. “Business never takes a day off when I do.” But his copilot in the whole affair needed breaks as much as he did, which landed him in this predicament initially. He considered volunteering more than that, but decided that work discussions often dampened good spirits on a day like this.
Her cleavage proved entirely too much a challenge to ignore in favor of her face, and it almost physically pained him to look her in the eyes. “I’m surprised anyone is here this early. I was looking to escape… All of this,” he finished, gesturing to the scanty clusters of the elderly that often used the beach for daily exercise. Isaiah considered them wrinkling seas of cellulite given the condition of most of them. Several still maintained a decent tan and figure despite the lacking elasticity of their skin. They were, perhaps, the sole reason he would never set foot on a nudist beach.
“Were you hoping to do the same?” Isaiah hated small talk, but early morning grogginess claimed his creativity faculties much too thoroughly to change to more interesting topics (like her cleavage, and whether they had names).
“ Well if the help isn't helpful… Maybe it needs to be replaced. “ SHe gave a small shrug of her shoulders, which only tugged at the strings of her bikini, trapper precariously between her and the stones. She didn't know exactly what his line of work was, and she wasn't the kind to exactly pry, but it was sound advice in her mind either way.
“ Mmmm, give it a few hours. The old folks will usually clear out before lunch, the tire quickly, and the bustle of people will go away soon enough. You just happened to hit the beach during the morning rush. All the silver haired suits will get their coffee, kiss their blonde barbie’s goodbye, and then roll out in their Mercedes and the beach will be clean again. “
She gave him a grin. He was behaving so well, nice small talk, no grumping at her because of a bad employee, no obvious lech-leering. Gold star for effort! She lifted her chin from her hands, placed them on the stones, and pushed herself so that she carefully rolled off of the wall in a practiced move, so she landed lightly on her feet, toes in the sand.
“ Not exactly, I can deal with people here better than I can out and about out here “ She sort of shrugged a shoulder towards the city. “ I almost feel like its my world here, people are just visiting “ She grinned. She knew that sounded awfully full of herself, but she was at least honest with herself. “ I am usually here, its all of them who come and go, so I get to see new things, and new people, and then usually they are gone, and I never have to deal with them again. “ She strolled over, still watching him curiously. “ I’m usually not up this early though. “ She twisted her lips a little bit, as if the thought of someone being a morning person was actually disturbing “ I was told there was going to be some good waves this morning, but nothing. Just little piddly excuses of waves. “ Her voice held so much woe, it was as if she were telling him her dog had died, not that the water was particularly calm and beautiful today.
She tilted her head, and looked him up and down in a sort of appraising manner, like she was taking inventory of his features. “ Do you surf at all? “ She asked, curious as she stepped a bit closer. He seemed awfully thin, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. She knew some lanky as hell surfers. She was also, suddenly right up in his personal space without even realizing it, because Zoe had absolutely no concept of personal boundaries.
”And what do you advise I do in those few hours, then?” He watched her with interest, hands still in pockets. She spoke of domains, and instinctively it challenged. He thought about sex on the beach, and wondered if his taste for alcohol would someday overtake his libido on that matter. Somehow it makes it easier when the girl suggests it. Like it’s somehow more tolerable. Hetero interactions are always such a stilted deception.
He considered swimming, and thought of the cold water and sharks. He wondered about the incidence rate of surfers bitten and bled out over the ocean waves. He remembered Jaws and its exponentially terrible sequel, its threequel. But, of all the flecks of memory and anecdote and suggestion to his mind, he could not deduce a single worthwhile activity to whittle away hours at a beach. Not without becoming intimately familiar with the feel of sand across every square inch of skin he had.
“I don’t surf,” he answered back, still comfortable with the lack of space between them. It intrigued him, even if he never let onto it - with the closed gap came the scent of sea salt in her hair, and a lotion that fought to overcome the spray of waves. He could see how clear her skin looked up close, how young she appeared, how her hair was parted in a line that curved slightly to the left. She wasn’t tall, which meant an aerial view of her cleavage. His hands took to fiddling with the vape and cell phone in his pockets. “I think the last time I tried to surf was when I was seventeen. Found out that way that I wasn’t a terribly good swimmer, got caught in an undertow. But it’s been a few years, now.” Almost a decade, he reminded himself. You’re getting old.
“More often, I just come down here to sketch.” He looked out toward the sea, and measured the gentle waves that she lamented so. Truthfully they looked just as boring to draw as they might’ve been to surf. And certainly he could offer to draw her, but of the portraiture he preferred to do…
“Do you live with someone out here, then? Folks own a beach house?” It was time to pry for a hidden girlfriend, boyfriend, or special friend.
Parue
posted!
