Beach Slut Pt. 01

Chapter One - Curtis

"I'm sure that it's healed up." Trisha Montgomery moaned.

"What has?" Ruth Fletcher asked.

Ruth was Trisha's oldest friend and confidant. The two women were outside the Island Bar, on the balcony that was overlooking the ocean. Each had a long, early evening, spritzer on the table between them.

"My pussy, it's healed up through lack of use!" Trisha moaned again and then drained her glass.

"Isn't Geoff performing often enough?" Ruth queried with a grin. Geoff's was Trisha's husband. A successful and therefore wealthy business man Geoff was also over twenty years Trisha's senior.

"Often enough! Occasionally would be nice." Trisha snorted.

"Is it really that bad?" Ruth said sympathetically.

"Probably worse, he's now come up with the idea of separate bedrooms. Said he couldn't sleep with me alongside him. So now we have separate bedrooms, I mean that kills off any chance of hanky panky. Soon I'll have to make an appointment to even have breakfast with him." Tricia pushed her empty glass towards her friend.

"I'll get another round in ... then we can talk." Ruth suggested.

***********************************

"I'm just a trophy, like the boat, the cars, and house. I'm a living, breathing trophy ..." Trisha finally said after another round of drinks. "He dresses me up and takes me out, just to say to everyone 'look at me, past fifty and satisfying this gorgeous young woman.' Like I said, I'm a trophy and a very frustrated trophy."

"Have you talked to him; told him you want some attention?"

"I tried, but it's as if he switches off when I talk about us. All that happens is that I get angry."

"So, is this a love thing?" Ruth could remember the boozy evenings she'd shared with Trisha when some six years earlier Geoff Montgomery had bombarded an impressionable Trisha Bowler with flowers and gifts. Even then Ruth had had her doubts, but she'd said nothing. Trisha was being offered a life of comfort that Ruth could only fantasise about.

"He still wants me around, and other than the sex stuff I can have anything I want, and I like him. I mean he's generally kind, generous, he can be good company. He just isn't very tactile." Trisha let out a deep sigh. "And this conversation is only making me hornier." She complained.

"So ..." Ruth started many sentences with the so word. "What about getting yourself a few girls toys?"

Trisha smirked. "I have toys; the good thing about having your own room is that you can play without being disturbed. It's just that a toy can't replace what it feels like to be held by a man."

"So, take a lover, be discrete but find somebody." Ruth suggested.

"I'll place something in the personal column ... horny woman needs to get laid ... often." Trisha laughed. Just talking about her problem was a kind of stress relief.

"Don't ever bring them back to your place!" Ruth laughed her warning. "Geoff may not understand some young stud in your bed."

"I'll rent somewhere, near the beach. I could do with some space, somewhere that Geoff hasn't bought." Until that moment it had been a joke, the whole conversation had been a joke. It was just a way of Tricia getting rid of some of the frustrations she was feeling.

***********************************

'Laid, get yourself laid.' The more Trisha replayed that idea then the more it appealed. 'Á no nonsense, straight forwards fuck, preferably with somebody I'll never meet again.' She liked that idea; it was just how she could engineer the event.

Once it had occurred to her the solution was so frighteningly simple. Geoff gave her a generous allowance and never enquired as to how she spent it. Now she would take advantage of that and rent herself a small apartment, somewhere anonymous. Even if she didn't 'score', it would be somewhere to chill.

Trisha replayed her idea to Ruth. "So, then you just go out and pick someone up?" Ruth asked. She was just a little surprised that Tricia was taking things this far. She had thought that their little chat had just been a booze fuelled joke.

"Something like that." It was that bit which, in truth, bothered Trisha. The 'fancy a fuck' approach seemed more suited to a prostitute. She had to refine her approach; roaming bars wasn't her idea of fun.

"It'll just take practice." Ruth said and they both laughed at the implications behind the remark.

"I agree; lots and lots of practice." Trisha agreed and they started laughing again.

***********************************

The apartment was neither tatty nor basement bargain material. A prime location, the apartment overlooked the beach, separated only by a single vehicle road. Only the relative lack of nearby amenities kept the rent down.

Tricia had found the place by accident, spotting the sign in a second-floor window as she'd been driving to see her therapist. The owner wanted to let the single bed apartment for only six months whilst she was travelling through Europe. It was perfect, a short lease in case Tricia tired of the game.

The apartment was clean, well-decorated and furnished. Neither the décor nor the furnishings were quite to Tricia's taste, but she could always spend a few dollars. Even that would add to the game. She could tour the small shops in the area, get a chance to meet people and scout the area.

Ruth helped her to move her few things in. "So, Geoff's doesn't know anything?"

"Not a thing. I'm paying cash for everything, even set up a separate account addressed to here for the rent." Trisha explained. "The tenancy is in the name of Trisha Riley."

Trisha thought that was clever. Ruth wasn't so sure; Riley was Trisha's family name. An idiot could see through that little disguise.

"I'm impressed, so what's the plan?" Ruth said, keeping her thoughts to herself.

"For anyone who needs to know I'm a writer looking for some local colour." Tricia stopped and glared at her friend. "I know I'm looking for that but what I meant was ... some inspiration for a novel."

"Getting humped stupid should give you some local colour!" Ruth laughed.

"You dirty cow!" Tricia snorted.

***********************************

It took Tricia a few days to set everything up so that she looked the part. She liberated an old laptop from her husband's firm, swearing a reluctant IT technician to secrecy with her smile.

Trisha had smile that used not just her mouth but also her eyes and suggested many more things for the lucky man. The geek had lank, greasy hair and his breath told Trisha that he'd had a taco bell the previous evening. He wouldn't be lucky, but Trisha fancied he'd have a few wanks over their meeting.

She spent a week or so just getting use to the place, the drive from her luxurious home that she shared with Geoff. Where she could park; not the twelve months old sports car but the older jeep she used as a run around.

The jeep had just been part of a previous fad about learning to surf. The instructors had been cool but there had been way too many good-looking women for Tricia's liking. The instructors treated the women like so many trophies and Trisha didn't need that when she had Geoff.

*********************************

The jeep fitted perfectly into the locality that Tricia had chosen. There was just enough of a seedy feel to the place to give a jeans wearing, cheesecloth wearing Trisha a feeling of delicious feeling of anonymity.

The area was called Beachside and had once been popular with the artist community, then the tourists had moved in and then out. Now it was somewhere cheap for beach lovers and lazy surfers to crash. Even on a busy day the place was quiet, and Tricia started to wonder if it might be too quiet.

The lifeboat was somewhere between a bar and a café. You could have either and no one would think anything. Tricia had noticed that the clientele was mostly young, some local workers and a few just hanging out enjoying the beach.

It seemed perfect for her first foray.

***********************************

In spite of her determination Tricia still needed a large glass of her favourite wine before she felt relaxed enough to step into the Lifeboat. It was early afternoon and Tricia knew there would be a dozen or more regulars in the place.

The floor was foot worn wood and her shoes have announced her arrival. She was still wearing heels, just a conservative two inches, but they tapped her way to the bar.

"Can I have a cold beer please?" She ordered, trying to sound more relaxed than she felt. All the crude innuendoes she'd shared with Ruth came down to her looking to be picked up in a bar.

Tricia settled onto a stool at the bar, sipping at her beer and making casual conversation with anyone who spoke to her. She knew what she looked like. An attractive woman in her early thirties, casually dressed, her long brunette hair tied back from over her shoulders, a plain black head band keeping it back from her face. She didn't look out of place, maybe a bit up market that was all.

"I think I have seen you in Murray's." The barman said.

"Murray's?"

"Murray's, it's the deli down the street." The barman explained. "I think I've seen you shopping in there."

Tricia thought for a moment, retracing the steps from her apartment to the bar, she remembered Murray's now. "I think I know where you mean; yes, you could have seen me in there." Tricia was just starting to relax, thanks to a bottle of beer and some mundane conversation.

"You have to be new to the area, not knowing Murray's and a good barman's supposed to know everyone in the area." The barman tried a smile. The Lifeboat was quiet so why not try chatting up the presentable newcomer? He had nothing else to do.

"You're right about being new to the area and do barmen really know everyone." She favoured him with a smile in return; everyone had always told her that she smiled well and with her whole face.

"I know my regular customers and I try to get to know any good-looking women that come in ... the names Carson by the way."

"Tricia Riley, it's nice to meet you, Carson. Is that Carson something or something Carson?" They touched hands briefly. She was using her family name for everything; it seemed so simple to slip back into calling herself Tricia Riley again.

"Carson Murray ... as in the deli. It's my aunt's place." He added as if by way of explanation. Carson was in his mid, maybe late twenties, stocky and with the shoulders of somebody who lifted weights. He had the features of a boxer or ball player with his nose looking as if it had been broken at least once. He wore a t-shirt with a cartoon picture of a lifeboat emblazoned on the chest; the t-shirt looked at least a size to small and showed off his pecs.

Trisha thought that the one size to small routine was a bit dated.

In between serving other customers Carson kept returning to her. They talked, Tricia almost laughed at his very obvious questions about husbands and boyfriends. In the end Tricia put him out of his misery. "There is a Mr. Riley, but we don't actually see eye to eye these days."

"Thought so, divorced or just separated?"

"Separated and how did you know?" Trisha was wary, she hadn't really prepared her backstory.

He pointed to her hand. "You can see the outline of where your wedding ring was."

"You're very observant." Tricia felt mildly irritated. She thought she had all her bases covered and had missed the most obvious. In future she'd apply a little tanning cream.

"If I'm prying just say and if you want to be alone then just say so." Carson pressed; he was spending more and more time on Tricia's corner of the bar. So much so that customers had to attract his attention.

"I think there have been enough questions about my personal life and if I'd wanted to be alone, I could have stayed in my apartment and worked." Tricia was felt pleased with how she'd handled that. She wasn't that practised in relating her imaginary life so the sooner they talked about something else the better.

"No more personal questions ... but does asking what you do for a living count as personal?"

Tricia chuckled. "Not quite, I'm a writer, just magazine stuff. I came here for a break, rent a place and work, maybe get a few fresh ideas."

"A writer, so I have a chance of becoming a character?" Carson asked.

"Who knows, if you do something memorable, that's always a good idea!" Tricia pushed her glass towards him. She was already close to the State booze limit and another beer would tip her over. She hadn't been planning to stop the night, but Geoff was in another State, and she'd told him that she might stop with Ruth for the company. Now it gave her an excuse for another beer and maybe ...

***********************************

"Do you have to be anywhere?" Carson asked as the bar began to empty. It was mid-afternoon, that time between the lunchtime and early evening drinkers. Carson had become increasingly attentive, standing her a drink from his tips, and making sure that he was always near to her.

"No where special, why do you ask?" Tricia hoped her replied was the mixture of innocence and suggestion it was intended to be.

"It's time for my break. I usually shut up shop for an hour. I thought we might do something together?" Carson threw the expected suggestion into their conversation.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" Trisha felt her tummy take a lurch of anxiety. She was approaching the moment of decision. She hoped that she sounded interested and not as nervous as she felt.

"We could maybe get better acquainted?" Carson glanced about the room, checking if they were being watched. This was the moment when Trisha could still walk away, her honour intact.

"I think I could run with that." Trisha found that her mouth was dry, and her anxiety was turning into something more carnal.

She glimpsed at the windows; the glass was heavily decorated with an etched image of a coast guard lifeboat and with the doors closed the only really natural light source would have been cut off.

It would be gloomy in the bar; you'd have to really stare through the window to see anything. "Shut the doors, we don't want to be disturbed." She felt nervous and excited at the same time. This was what coming to Beachside was all about, the lure of casual sex until her inch had been truly scratched.

***********************************

She had thought hard about what to wear. She had a limited wardrobe in the apartment so had settled on a short, calf length skirt beneath which she wore a thong. She also wore a sleeveless cotton top which told everyone that she wasn't wearing a bra.

Carson shooed the last of the customers out of the bar. One said something that Trisha didn't quite catch but Carson looked angry. She watched as Carson closed and bolted the doors. He kept glancing back, as if he were frightened, she might disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere!" She laughed. The laugher was strained but was a relief. She felt as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders.

As Carson dropped the final bolt Tricia turned towards the bar where the large ornate mirror gave back her reflection. She place one foot on the copper boot rest that ran the length of the bar and waited.

In the mirror she could track Carson as he walked towards her. There was a moment when he hesitated and then understanding her move, he came and stood behind her.

Tricia arched her back enough to push her rear towards him, far enough to just brush against him. It was as blatant as signal as she could muster with a stranger.

"Nice, I like that!" Carson murmured as he held her by the hips and just pushed against her, pressing the hard length of his cock into the cleft of her buttocks.

They were still clothed but Tricia swore she could feel his heat.

"Likewise ... you need to have something ..." Trisha swore silently at the sudden thought that Carson might not have a rubber handy. It was something else to add to her shoulder bag.

Carson laughed; his voice was deep with the passion he was feeling. He patted the rear pocket of his jeans. "Always prepared, just in case ..."

"Don't say in case you get lucky." Tricia warned. She gave her behind an extra wiggle, feeling how he was caught up in the movement, reminding him of what he might miss by the wrong move or word.

Carson's hots breathe was on her neck and then his lips touched her bare, exposed skin. It was more of a long touch than a kiss, but Tricia couldn't prevent the moan exploding from her.

It had been so long since a man had touched her like this. She vowed that she wouldn't touch him, just leave her body open and available, and let the sex take its course.

He just stroked her, caressing her neck and shoulders, always kissing where he had touched, running his fingers down her bare arms until they raised goose bumps.

"Don't stop!" Tricia whispered.

"I'll try not to." Carson mumbled into the bare flesh of her neck, where the loose strands of her hair hung.

She felt his hands on her ribs and then the soft swell of her breasts. He just held them and then ... so slowly ... drew tiny rings around her already risen nipples.

"Nice?" He asked.

"Very nice!" She agreed although she had hated it when a boyfriend had asked such a question. Trisha thought that her reaction was answer enough. She pushed back again, grinding her buttocks into his unyielding groin. "Nice?" She asked.

"Very nice." Carson agreed.

Now Tricia was getting what she had wanted, what her fantasies had been about. She was alone with a young strong man whose body was straining for hers. Carson didn't have the pallid, flabby body of her husband. She felt wanted again, vital, alive, her boobs were tingling, her pussy was already wet, her own body quivered with expectation.

She felt between them, through a gap that didn't really exist. She found his cock or at least his shape and traced it with her fingers. It seemed huge, but that was her fantasy again.

As she touched him Carson's hands started to squeeze and press her breasts, he was no longer content just to stroke her. He rolled up her t-shirt until her naked breasts were in his hands, flesh against flesh and it took her breath away.

Carson had her nipples between his fingers, he didn't squeeze but he pinched, and Tricia didn't care how loud she cried out.

"Harder!" She demanded.

She squealed when he did. She sobbed with the pain and the gratification that seemed to burst through her body, invading and then overwhelming every single one of her pleasure points. She almost came, literally came! She was that close. "No more!" She pleaded.

Slowly the pain receded, her breath returned, her scrambles senses almost returned to normal.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked. "I didn't mean to really hurt you!" He sounded concerned and his hands had left her breasts; he was stroking her ribs.

"Not hurt, not hurt hurt!" Tricia gasped. "It was nice, in a painful way but nice." Tricia started to laugh. "There is only thing that I need now." She gave his imprisoned cock an affectionate squeeze "Guess what that is?"

She looked up at the mirror, saw herself leaning against the bar; saw the look on her face, the sheen which had appeared, her complexion was flushed.

She could see Carson standing so close to her, as she watched he unfastened his jeans and pushed then to the floor.

She half turned, her attention caught between the sight of his cock and the temptation to keep watching herself in that huge mirror. The sensation of being a voyeur of sex involving herself was exhilarating.

The urge to touch won and just before Carson rolled the pink coloured condom onto his cock, she just touched it. Savouring its hardness and knowing that she had caused its condition.

She watched as Carson rolled the condom down to the bottom of his stalk. "Now we are cooking!" She laughed, once more turning her back on him.