Baby Doll Ch. 04

Jessa's truck was similar to Cliff's. It was a big and tall vehicle with four doors. The main difference was that Jessa had a roof attached to the truck's bed. Despite the sturdiness of the truck, Rebecca was concerned about it. That truck was the one pulling the RV that the three women were going to stay in. RVs were pretty heavy. Nervousness hit her every few minutes as she followed the RV in her car.

She had learned that, including Cliff, Jessa had four siblings, but the other two weren't coming to the beach with them. There were four trucks, each pulling an RV. One truck had "Nana and Pa." Rebecca was mildly surprised that they still had driving licenses; they had seemed fairly elderly. A second truck had Jessa's parents. The third was Cliff, who would have an RV all to himself. Of course, the fourth truck was Jessa's, with her wife comfortably dozing in the passenger's seat. Rebecca was the only one without a truck, and the only one who wasn't pulling an RV behind her.

She had also learned that Jessa's father had several siblings. Nana and Pa couldn't keep their hands off of each other in their youth, apparently. The resulting tree of children and grandchildren couldn't all come to the beach, and most of them probably didn't want to. Everybody has different plans in their life. What really blew Rebecca's mind was the fact that she had been living near this family without knowing it. The neighborhood she lived in had pretty much most of the family. Each house she had passed while driving out or into the location had a good chance of being owned by someone related to Jessa.

Rebecca's two sets of great grandparents had also been great producers of children, and so, she had a seemingly endless supply of aunts, uncles, and cousins, but she didn't know roughly ninety percent of them. Rebecca's family had spread out like the white fuzz of a dandelion floating in the wind, while Jessa's family had huddled together like a bee hive.

Before they had driven off to the beach, the three women went to Nana and Pa's house early in the morning. That's where the RVs were. As the men, and Jessa, prepared the RVs for transport, Jenny slept in their truck and Rebecca introduced herself as humbly as she could to the grandmother. The woman was in her late seventies, and although Rebecca wanted to ask what race she was, she didn't.

The old woman's name was Annabelle Miller, but she insisted that Rebecca call her Nana, because, as the old woman put it, "You're a youngun, and all the younguns around here call me Nana." When Rebecca told Nana her age, the old woman leaned on her cane and let out a hoarse laugh. She still had all her teeth, and they looked pretty healthy. "You're older than I thought you were, but you're still a youngun! Come on, Girl! I'll get you a glass of water while we wait on the men, that's what we ladies do, you know, unless you're Jessa."

Rebecca had been quite impressed with the house. It wasn't a manufactured home; some people called those kinds of houses mobile homes, even though they weren't exactly mobile. It was a two story building with beautiful windows and sturdy bricks. Everything about the place looked brand new and strong. Even the lawn was well kept.

Despite her mild issue with walking, Nana hobbled around, leading Rebecca around the beloved flower gardens. Then Nana asked her to go inside to look at her dolls. She had a whole room devoted to shelves and shelves of dolls.

Rebecca took the time to ask her about as many dolls as possible, when she bought them, what they were made of, etcetera. Nana had a variety of them, from children's fashion dolls, to expensive porcelain dolls with fragile Victorian clothing and large eyes. Rebecca had a fondness for anybody who collected anything and kept them in beautiful arrangements, even if they collected something weird like staples or cereal boxes.

"I knew a guy," Rebecca had said without thinking, "that would purchase mostly Monster High dolls, but he'd use nail polish remover to wipe off their faces. Then, he'd spray on some stuff to give the faces a papery texture, and he'd draw the most beautiful faces in the world on them. Then he'd use ... I think it was called sealant, to make sure it wouldn't smudge. "

"And a man did this?" Nana pushed her large glasses up. "What was he like?"

Rebecca paused. She shrugged and looked at a Barbie doll. "He's not that important. Anyway, I've seen people do that on YouTube. It's pretty cool. I wish I could do that."

***

The family had reserved four plots in a row at a Christian site. According to Jessa, "We like it here because, believe it or not, people here mind their own business. It's pretty safe." Rebecca was worried about something preachy going on, but Jessa assured her that the worst thing about the place was a rule against really loud music and overall partying on site from ten pm to eight am. "Sometimes, they'll have a small concert or something, but it's always kept away from the RVs," Jessa told her.

The left of the row had Jessa and company's RV first. Then there was Cliff's, the parents, and then the grandparents at the right. Once everyone was secure and set up with power and water, Jessa shoved a pair of tongs into the sky and called out, "Grilling Time!"

To Jessa's obvious disappointment, she didn't get to grill. Her father did. Jessa was hovering over him, asking him questions, and doing everything she could to try to help, but that man was stubborn. At one point, as he was cooking hamburgers over hot charcoal, Jessa began flapping her strong arms like a malfunctioning toy bird. She repeated over and over, "Flip them! Flip them! Come on, flip them, Daddy!" All this went on while Cliff and Pa stayed nearby and nursed beverages, as men often do when something's being grilled outdoors.

The father had introduced himself to Rebecca as Robert Miller. He was almost sixty years old, and sort of reminded Rebecca of her own father, except Robert Miller didn't have a great beer belly, and his skin was much darker. Rebecca had wanted to watch him cook, as her own father had often let her, but for some reason, Robert Miller had given her a strange look. It was like he was bewildered at her audacity to look at the cooking meat. One look at his face embarrassed Rebecca to the point of backing out.

Jessa's mother was Claire Miller, and Rebecca was certain that she was White. She had no problem talking about any handsome young men that happened to walk by. There was a thickness in her frame that Rebecca sort of liked. She was happy to sit with the mother and chat about shopping, amusement parks, and splashing in the sea.

"I can't swim," Rebecca confessed, "but I'd love to put my feet in the water."

"There's a swimming pool around here," Claire Miller told her. She was smiling with bright red lips. "It's a short walk from here. They have a lazy river."

Jenny took a seat at the collapsible table they had chosen. "I love lazy rivers! So relaxing!"

George Miller, also known as Pa, called out to the women, "Would one of you go see if Nana's doing alright?"

Claire agreed to go into the appropriate RV to check in on her.

Jenny's smile was almost impish as she put her elbows on the table and said to Rebecca, "After we eat, we're all going to the aquarium for a few hours. After that, we're all going out eat at our favorite seafood place. Then we'll split up. Jessa and I are going to ride that big-ass ferris wheel we saw on the way here. You want to come?"

Rebecca shook her head. "I want to go to the lazy river." The price for riding that over-blown carnival ride was too damn high anyway.

"We got some extra sunscreen." A can of soda hissed as Jenny opened it. "Just holler, and we'll soak you in it."

***

The aquarium had been cool and colorful. A wheelchair had been brought for Nana to make all the wandering about less troublesome. There was a tunnel of glass where a viewer could admire the beautiful sea creatures. To have a toothy shark float above you was quite chilling. Rebecca's favorite exhibit had colorful seahorses. She separated herself from the group to examine them. For a few moments, she was fascinated, and then she heard Mr. Cliff Miller speak to her.

She turned to him. He was so cute in his obvious tourist shirt with that Hawaii inspired pattern. His pants were pretty normal, though, tight jeans that practically spelled out his muscles. Rebecca tried to remember what he had asked her, something about the seahorses.

Oh, that's right! She smiled as she remembered. "I think seahorses are fish, but don't quote me on that." Her eyes went back to the floating little seahorses. They had such peaceful lives, no predators, no competition for food. Captivity had its advantages, as long as the ones who held you were kind.

"Did you know the males essentially give birth to the babies?" he asked, sliding a little bit closer to her. Why did he always smell like steak and pine needles? It was starting to feel odd.

"Yeah. I also heard that while the male is holding onto the babies, the female will occasionally touch and caress him. Isn't that cute?"

"So even seahorses are sweet to their mates, huh?" Cliff Miller licked his teeth. She saw him do it in the reflection on the glass.

"Not all creatures are like that, sadly," she sighed.

"Like spiders?" He was preparing his phone for a photograph.

"Depends on the spider, some mate for life." She saw a flash, and she turned her head to him. He was holding his phone in her direction. "Did you just take a pic of me?"

"Couldn't help it." He aimed his phone at the seahorse display. "You looked cute."

She thought he looked like a stud.

She was still thinking that during lunchtime, at a large seafood restaurant. He just so happened to sit next to her, and he was oh so kind, helping her crack open crab legs, holding onto her purse whenever she needed to use the bathroom, offering her tastes of his own meal, since he was eating something different and wanted her to know as many flavors as possible. Rebecca was worried that his family might get the wrong idea. She kept looking to Jessa for any sign of disapproval.

It seemed that Jessa was not giving any shits. She busy having a good time, and when she did notice Cliff's behavior towards Rebecca, she didn't react to it at all.

Well ... maybe this wasn't so bad.

It was still hot and bright when the family split up, and Cliff Miller had decided to follow Rebecca around, which didn't surprise her much, although she had wanted to be alone.

"I'll need your help getting sunscreen on my back," he told her with absolutely no subtlety. Everyone else had gone on to explore. They were the only ones at the RVs.

Rebecca was deathly afraid of skin cancer, or any cancer, or any illness in general. Sunscreen is the best screen! So, even though he knew the man was being pervy, she agreed to help him, as long as he helped her too.

They decided to do it in his RV, because the concept of applying sunscreen to another person in public didn't seem tasteful to her. Like a queen, she ordered him to apply as much lotion to himself, in all the places he could reach. And like a very mannerly queen, she tried to ignore the fact that Mr. Miller had just the right about of thick hair on his chest and belly. She LOVED hair on a man's body, especially when she rubbed her nipples against it.

Grinning, he massaged the lotion in slowly, very slowly, to the point where Rebecca wondered if he was drawing it out on purpose, and then he knelt on a bed in the front of the RV, waiting for her to finish him off. Briskly, almost roughly, she pressed the cold lotion onto his back, her fingers and palms sliding up and down.

The man was corporeal sexiness and strength! She loved his darker skin tone. She loved how the center line of his back was complemented by well shaped shoulders and a slim waist. Her fingers soon drew two separating paths, shaped like an upside down V.

Please don't make pervy noises. Please don't make pervy noises. Please don't make pervy noises. It would be so awkward if he did. It would be worse if she did.

She wanted to run her hand around him, upwards, through the hair and to his dark nipples. She wanted to slide downward and pull on his knee-length bathing shorts. She wanted to press the length of her torso against his back and hold him close.

She needed to stop.

"I think I'm done here." Rebecca rubbed excess lotion onto her arms and took a few steps away from him. She avoided his eyes, but she knew that he was watching her as she rubbed sunscreen all over herself. At least she wasn't naked. She had on a black string bikini top, but her breasts were so small that they were pretty well covered. Her string bikini bottom was covered by black shorts. She didn't like showing off her inner thighs. When she couldn't reach certain spots on her back, she asked Mr. Miller to move.

Once she was kneeling on the bed, she tried to concentrate on the unpleasant floral design in the sheet's fabric. It was a challenging task. Once his hands were on her, she had to clench her teeth and curl her fingers into her lap in order to stop the twisted sounds that she wanted to release into the hot air. The man's large, rough hands were pressing up and down.

Her flesh tingled and flinched over and over. A pulsing in her clitoris had her thighs shaking. Was it her imagination, or should he have been finished by now?

Something was on her thigh.

It was his hand!

"Mr. Miller!"

A voice at her ear, it chilled her. It heated her. "Nobody has to know. I can touch you, and I'll make sure nothing bad happens."

"What?" Rebecca wanted to move away ... but ...

She didn't really want to move away.

Somehow both harsh and gentle, his voice whispered, "I'd love to touch you. I'll put my fingers under your bikini, and I'll make you feel good."

"Please!"

"Please what, Baby? Please put your fingers in me? Please make me cum?"

She shook her head. "I can't!"

"Well I can." His hand pushed between her thighs, and Rebecca didn't resist. She actually parted her folded legs for him. "And I'm going to." The hand slid under her shorts, under her bikini bottom. She could have stopped him. She could have pulled his hand away, but her fingers dug into the ugly sheet.

"You sign my paycheck, god damn it." Her voice was so little that she wasn't sure if he heard her.

"And I want to touch you, god damn it."

Inside, he was inside, and he was breathing against her ear. His fingers didn't tease. They pushed on, and her muscles constricted. Her nipples were tightening under her black bikini top, rubbing against the material with every worried breath she took.

He found that spot, and she gave a short yelp. It was that famous little spot deep inside that she could never make much use of on her own, because she would always chicken out in the end.

"Does it feel good, Baby? Hm? Tell me." Those charming teeth sank into the side of her ear.

She almost screamed, but she managed to control herself a little. What came out was a heavy moan. He rammed in and out, which had her giving tiny little whines of pleasure. The muscles of his arm worked against her front. He smelled a little different, sweatier.

And then there was pain in her vagina.

"Get the fuck off of me! It burns!"

"What? Oh Jesus!" He hurried away from her.

She immediately realized what the problem was. The sunscreen! She turned around, slipped off the bed, and headed for the tiny bathroom in the RV. As she ran some water from the shower, she called out, "Sunscreen is NOT a good lubricant!"

She heard his footsteps grow louder, and then she heard him speak right outside the door. "I'm so sorry! Shit, I'm sorry! I didn't know!" He didn't sound confident anymore.

Rebecca was trying to rinse herself off the best she could. "It's okay! Don't worry about it! The human vagina cleans itself. I'll be fine. I don't want to go to the lazy river anymore, though. How about we just build sandcastles at the beach?" She thought she might have a better time building a sandcastle, and her mood had been ruined. To make up for that, she wanted to hurry and and have the better time.

"Uhm, okay. That sounds good."

They had already covered themselves in the lotion. They mighty as well enjoy the day.

So, Rebecca packed a beach bag full of supplies. She had a few plastic buckets and little shovels, two towels, some bottles of water, her phone encased in a plastic baggie, a comb and an elastic band, and some clear diaper rash ointment with a folded paper towel. She used clear diaper rash ointment as lip balm, and it was a thousand times better than those stupid tubes of camphor based products that dried her lips out. It also stayed on her mouth much longer than ordinary petroleum jelly.

Mr. Miller volunteered to make some sandwiches and she had to admit that she found the idea to be charming. She asked, "Do you have any peanut butter and jelly?"

He shrugged at her. "Sure. That's a good idea as any."

Rebecca filled a little cooler of his with ice as he made a few sandwiches. Then she wrapped each of his little creations up in wax paper and put them in his cooler. She saw that he had the foresight to snatch up a large umbrella and a rolled up beach towel under his arm.

Their sandals made flapping noises against the dirt pathway that drew a line through the center of the site. Rebecca thought she was especially cute, because she had a large straw sun hat with a floppy brim. She loved hats with floppy brims. She also had on a big pair of sunglasses, and she had always loved sunglasses. Rebecca peeked at her companion for a moment, and she decided that she liked his sunglasses too. They made his cheek bones seem higher and put a little extra character on his nose.

Soon, the grass and packed dirt faded into loose sand. Their sandals couldn't protect them anymore. Their feet were slowly being coated. While the sun was still strong, the sweet air made it more tolerable. Cliff Miller picked out a spot, spread out his beach towel, opened his umbrella, and sank the handle into the sand. He put the cooler of sandwiches under the newly created shady spot and sat down onto the towel.

"I'm going to get a bucket of water," Rebecca told him, getting out her children's bucket. Once she had it, she put her bag next to his cooler.

Rebecca was the one who made the basic shape of the sandcastle. Mr. Miller watched for a while and asked her a few questions as she worked.

"Are you good at this?"

"No Sir. I'm not good at this at all."

"So why are you doing it?" he asked, folding his long legs in something like a meditation position.

"It's fun, Mr. Miller."

"You don't need to keep calling me that. Cliff is fine."

Her feet were blushing. She gingerly walked over to the water and soaked her ankles, pressing her toes together to keep her sandals in place.

Maybe it didn't matter that he was her employer. Maybe she could put aside her annoying pride.

"I guess so, Mr. Miller, I mean ... Cliff." Rebecca nodded at her words. She should think of him as Cliff. It would be fine.

She refilled her bucket with the salty water. Then she squished wet sand with her feet as she went back to her little castle. She made a new puddle and scraped up wet sand with her shovel. She probably didn't need to make a puddle. She could've have gotten wet sand from where the water was moving back and forth. She knew. She didn't care.

Cliff was looking at her. She knew he was. There were plenty of things to look at, other vacationers, the great blue sea, the birds, but he was looking at her. She could feel his eyes on every inch of her. She heard the lid of his cooler pop up. Through her sunglasses, her eyes turned up to see him pulling out a wrapped sandwich. His fingers gently turned the wax paper just enough to expose a portion of the food, and then his teeth took out an even smaller section. She eyed his throat as he swallowed, and she honestly wanted to press her lips there, right at the place where food had made a little bulge.