Learning to Surf Ch. 02

Chapter Two (James's story)

I had been working at the ocean for a few months to get away from the grim British winter. The cold and the rain against a grey London backdrop. The dark nights drawing in the mid-afternoon, pitch-black after 4:30 apart from the artificial electric lights of the big city. It had been time for a change. Fast-forward the clock, and here I was; managing the surf store in the resort was a dream, come true for me. I'd get up as the dawn filled the sky with glowing pinks and reds, head down to the beach and catch the first waves on my Malibu board...before the tourists had even got up and had their breakfast. Then I'd do an eight-hour shift in the shack, renting out mainly body boards but sometimes long boards. Sometimes I'd give lessons as well, which was often good fun. In the evening I'd catch a few more waves on my own, or with one of my newfound local friends, and eat at one of the restaurants on the island. Or I'd set up a barbecue and throw on a few fish, freshly hauled out of the azure waters by one of the local fishermen. The staff was good fun, a smattering of Americans, Europeans and locals. We would have parties almost every night, knocking back rum, burning a few logs and playing dance music and reggae until the early hours.

With all that daily exercise I became fitter than I had been for years. I set up a pull-up bar in the doorway of my room and did sets of 20 pull-ups every morning and night. And with the surfing, I felt more muscular than I had for a while. In the sun every day, I gradually built up a good tan. I was feeling confident and very happy. There were female opportunities; that's for sure. I became friendly with a few of my women-colleagues....and every week there would be groups of tourists wanting to befriend me.

Thing was though...I had no urge to throw myself into a new relationship, or just sleep with women for the sake of it. I was looking for something a bit more exciting. Plus, the hotel had very strict rules: no fucking the clients....or you would be out on your ear. I kissed one or two of the more attractive visitors, after long rum-fuelled evenings, but didn't take it any further.

Anyway, it was one day in March and Jack, the barman with whom I shared a house, knocked on my door quite early. He's been drinking heavily the night before - and, I suspect, shagging one of the cleaners, a little black girl called Maria - and said he couldn't bear to work that day. So I offered to help him out. I stuck a "closed, back this afternoon" sign on the surf shack and headed down to the beach. I put on my mirrored sunglasses as the light was so bright, even this early in the morning.

I served a few drinks but luckily it wasn't too busy. No hassles. A group of girls were out on the beach....attention-seeking. All were wearing lime-green bikinis and they were making a big show and dance. They were quite young, and not bad looking. They demanded drinks....Coca-cola...and tried to flirt with me as I served them. Should I invite them to the party that evening? I wondered....not sure. A bit spoiled they looked; 'Daddy's little rich girls.' I'd met Paris Hilton wanna-bees and, to be honest, they did my head in with their incessant chatter.

"I was like, this, and she was like, like", etc, etc. They were playing bad pop on a portable radio. I thought of asking them to turn it off, for the benefit of the other guests.

Meanwhile another woman had come down to the beach and had taken a lounger. She had shoulder-length curly blonde hair and wore a black wrap around herself. When I came closer I could see glimpses of a red bikini underneath. At first I didn't pay her too much attention. Dozens of women came and went at this place, that's the way it is with holiday resorts. You couldn't befriend them all.

There were a couple of men heading into the sea with boogie-boards. Doormats! I chuckled to myself.

"You like what you see?" said the woman, as I stood near her watching the waves. She thought I was staring at the lime-green party girls.

"Those under aged beach bunnies are here all summer and are much too wealthy for their own good," I said.

The woman laughed. I wondered if she was on holiday on her own, and what had brought her here. I pointed out at the boys playing in the waves body surfing.

"I noticed you watching them, I can teach you how to do that if you want," I suggested.

She replied "Oh, that is so very kind of you to offer, but I just don't know. Is it dangerous?"

"Not really," I said. "Those aren't big waves by anyone's standards." I replied.

"You teach?" She asked sitting upright. "Multi-talented then; aren't you the waiter?"

I explained that I wasn't the waiter but was looking out for Jack while his body de-toxed those rum cocktails from the night before.

As I spoke to her I thought 'what a sexy accent' she had. I've always had a thing for American women; they seem to have such rich vocals. I couldn't help noticing what a lovely, curvy body she had either. Not like those beanpole girls in the lime outfits.

I had a little flirt with her, called her "beautiful" in a teasing kind of way.

Was she alone? Or did she have a husband waiting back in her room. It was hard to tell.

I leant over her to put the drink on her table, and then gave her a pink beach towel. For the first time in weeks I felt a real attraction...although maybe I was just imagining things. No doubt hubby would turn up in a few minutes.

I thought she was staring at my slim, toned stomach, but couldn't really tell for sure.

"Party last night?" she said, in a manner that I couldn't quite fathom. "So I arrived a day too late?"

I decided I should invite her up to the house this evening for the staff party. I took off my shades to give her the full blue-eyed gaze and asked her if she wanted to join us....no harm in asking, right?

"It's invitation only. We start to gather about dusk at the big blue house over there." I said.

Lots of tourists arrive at the ocean thinking the sun is the same as at home. Lots of them end up looking like lobsters. I passed the woman some sun block lotion..."you'd better use this," I said.

She asked me to cover her back....I wondered...was she flirting...or was I just a servant to her, a member of staff?

I spread some of the white lotion on my hands, asked her to sit forward, and rubbed some into her upper back. As I eased the cream into her skin I gave little massaging motions on her shoulders and shoulder-blades. I stood back a foot or so that she couldn't feel my groin...I had a semi-erection...but there was no way I would let her see that. Not so easy when I was only wearing Bermuda shorts.

I dabbed some cream on her nose.

"Be sure to keep that cute nose under wraps, this sun can be treacherous. Now, you will have to excuse me, I wouldn't mind doing your front as well, but I do have to get the shop open." I said.

I saw Jack coming down to the beach to take over his duties. So then I headed off back to the surf shop...luckily my erection had gone down...when I got there I unlocked the door, got everything ready. There were no customers for a while, so I just sat on the porch outside. There was a wicker chair and I kicked back with a paperback and waited for someone to turn up. I put some music on the stereo, a bit of Peter Tosh for that genuine beach vibe; "Just sunbathing." Some kids came along and hired boogie-boards. They left. Time passed. It was a few hours later that I saw the familiar red bikini and curvy figure appearing on the track downhill from my surf shack. The American woman had shed her black wrap and I could see her body more clearly than in the morning. Even at a distance I could see how curvy she was, with a big, generous chest. She came nearer...

"Not a great time for your first lesson," I said. "The sun is too high in the sky; you'll get burned to a frazzle."

She said she didn't want a lesson, yet. She just wanted to say hello. So I got her a beer out of the fridge, at the back of the shop, and pulled out another chair. She lowered herself into the seat and we sat together on the porch. I didn't feel particularly chatty but I told her a bit more about the island. As she leaned back to let the sun fall on to her face and neck, I got a good look at her cleavage. As I thought...she had wonderful big tits. As I spoke to her I tried not to let her know that I was looking at that cleavage....wondering what it would be like to touch...with my fingers and my tongue...But I knew that any sexual contact was banned. I would be risking my job. "Where are you from then," I asked...