High Tide

In every hole the sea came up

Till it could come no more.

Robert Louis Stevenson, "At the Sea-Side"

"Lucy! What's the news, darlin'?"

"Gas is up another dime and I've hardly sold a book all day. That kind of news?"

"That'll work. What's your evening looking like?"

"I was gonna bake some brownies, unless you have a better plan."

"Here's one. How about dinner at Kelsey's, and then...it'll be warm, the moon is full and the beach looks really good right now."

"Oh—I was wondering when you were gonna invite me out to your little lair. Breaking it in?"

"Just finished it. We can christen it tonight if you're game."

"Blanket in the moonlight? I'm in favor of that. I can bring wine."

"Super. When shall I pick you up?"

"Make it six. Come here, and we'll swing by the house. I'll want to freshen up before dinner."

"See you then."

This thing of Lucy's and mine was uncomplicated and we liked it that way. We had both grown tired of dealing with other people's baggage and far-reaching expectations. What we asked of each other was simple: good sex, good companionship, compatible tastes in music and movies, and no talk of five-year plans or biological clocks. Interesting dinner conversation counted extra. Once we discovered that we thought alike and had a mutual attraction, it was a done thing.

I pulled my Jeep onto the main road at a quarter to six and drove east. There is only one through road from Topsail Beach to Surf City, and the view from it is the same nearly all the seven miles of it. Once I left behind the group of houses on half-bare lawns and low-slung civic buildings that was the town center, there was little for miles but condos and beach houses, set well back from the road by wide expanses of concrete driveway. Now and then a wooden bridge to my right—the ocean side—would arch over the scrub to provide public beach access. As I approached Surf City, more roadside restaurants, bait shops and outfitters began to appear.

You might not think at first mention that a bookstore could survive here, but many a vacationer fails to pack her beach reading. Lucy's store carries a full range of fiction and non-fiction, but her sales are highest in the kinds of titles that many women like to read in a seaside setting: potboiler novels and romances, the sexier the better. She has a special shelf up high where children can't reach, discreetly labeled "Erotic Romance", where the really juicy reads are kept.

I have have had occasion to observe some of the readers of these books. I do maintenance work for a condo management company, keeping their rental units in some semblance of repair. It keeps me in one of those bare-lawn houses in Topsail Beach—one of the smaller ones. I have a knack for plumbing, electrical work, and minor structural repair. Doing that kind of work suits me. It also has brought me into contact with women tenants who had paperbacks that could have come from Lucy's special shelf. My observations have told me that while many have perfectly happy lives and read sexy novels and stories for spice and to give their libidos a boost, there are some who are missing proper attention from their dull or distracted husbands.

I will admit to having helped out a few of these latter women who were about the condo when I was working, while their husbands were out golfing on the mainland and their children were at the beach or otherwise away and occupied. In all cases they clearly needed it and either seduced me outright or were on the verge of doing so but needed just a small tug to overcome their shyness. I keep in shape and don't dress like a slob, so I've had my share of opportunities, of which I took advantage when I was single and it seemed safe.

I never claimed to be virtuous.

But that was all in the past now. I was not about to risk messing up my good thing with Lucy. Although we were officially not possessive, I felt I ought to be always available to her, if not always underfoot. That was enough to keep me from my former caddish ways. And her company in and out of bed was so satisfying that I felt no desire to stray, in any case. If I were completely honest with myself, my feelings for her...but I put that aside for the moment.

Such were my musings moments before I pulled into the tiny parking lot outside "The Beach Read". I felt the warm, humid air of June, scented with the ocean, and the beating of the still high sun on my skin as I walked to the door.

She was just finishing up closing the store for the day. I had a moment to take her in before she looked up from her work. She was only a couple of inches shorter than my six feet. Long dark hair cascaded around a face with features that most would not find remarkable until they took a second look and registered the sensuality that lived there in her bright brown eyes and wide mouth. She wore a wrap dress in a floral print, light and breezy as the image she cultivated for her customers, and a little daring in the plunging neckline that drew the eye to the swell of her bust.

She put down her pen, looked up and smiled.

"Hello, stranger. Where've you been all week? About time."

She walked from behind the counter toward me as I moved toward her to meet her in the middle. She leaned in to me for a quick kiss, her lips a promise for later.

"Here and there," I said. "Work. And working on the shack."

"Of course. And are you going to show it to me tonight?"

"Hmm. That could go in many directions. So I'll just say 'yes'."

"Good answer," she said.

The shack was more of a shed, a tiny structure that my friend John allowed me to put up and use on his private section of beach. Since he and his family only occupy the house a few weeks out of the year and don't rent it out with any regularity, he reasoned that any time I spent there would also be time when someone was watching the property.

The site of the shack was originally a changing and shower house dating from the time when this section of beach was public. I kept the facility as an outdoor shower and built onto it, creating a space large enough for a couple of chairs and a bed, for those nights when the weather was good for sleeping under the stars, which were visible through a large skylight. I installed a solar panel and batteries, providing enough power for some lighting and a portable music system. Facing the ocean was a deck with a fire ring built in. I was looking forward to spending many nights there over the summer, as many as I could with Lucy.

Thinking of the prospect, I slipped my arm around her yielding waist and pulled her to me. Our second kiss was more passionate, wanting and lingering.

"Oh, Billy, that's nice," she breathed. "You're not usually like this."

"I've missed you."

"Good to hear it. I've missed you too."

"Well, let me make it up to you by taking you to dinner, then I'll show you my little beach place."

Kelsey's is on the waterfront and features outdoor seating on a deck the size of a tennis court, overlooking the beach. The rough plank floor and wooden railings give it the rustic look that is popular now. Here the scent and sound of the ocean were even more powerful, and the coming sunset behind us promised to be spectacular.

We had ordered—she the shrimp and grits, I the jambalaya—and were sipping margaritas in the slowly diminishing, reddening sunlight.

"So, did you eventually sell any books today?" I asked.

"A few. Oh, one good success! I had a UNC student, she told me that much. Was looking for a book that had Coleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner". I remembered that it was in this anthology of English poetry that I stock. Made the sale. Why she needs to read that poem over the summer is anyone's guess."

"Maybe she's in the summer session?"

"Could be. Anyway, that's a big book. It made me a few bucks."

"Why couldn't she have found the book on her own?"

"A lot of them go into school without library skills. I saw that in the couple of years I worked there. They would come up to me at the desk, no idea how to find what they wanted. So needy."

"Hmm," I pondered. "Sounds like someone else you've told me about."

"Jason? I suppose. But I'm done talking about him. Not going to dwell on it."

"I know. I shouldn't have brought it up. Sorry."

A warm breeze brushed my face. The humidity held the heat of June in the air. There was a pause as a gull called, over by the fishing pier.

"But still," she said, "Now that you bring it up, I think he was one of the reasons I hooked up with you. I liked having it nice and simple for a change. It was such a relief. But now I also like missing you when you're not around. And I liked hearing that you missed me."

"I meant it."

"I don't doubt you, Billy," she said.

Our waiter arrived with our food. Our conversation turned to the immediate as we sampled it, praised it, and waited for his inevitable return with the first of several inquiries into its savoriness. The sun continued to near the horizon and the evening progressed toward some unknown culmination.

After dinner, she suggested a walk out onto the pier. The sun was just setting over the mainland, and being there put enough distance between us and the buildings that we could get the full effect. The crowd had thinned out and we were alone, out near the end. Waves lapped against the timbers beneath our feet. The top sliver of the full moon was just broaching the horizon, far out over the ocean, as on the opposite horizon the sun departed in a blaze of red. High tide was a few hours away.

We had been holding hands, watching the show, when she turned to be face to face with me and, planting her hands firmly on my ass, pulled me against her, grinding herself against the sudden hard lump in my pants.

"I'm going to tell you something, Billy," she said. "I can't wait to get naked with you on the beach tonight."

Her words were working their magic on me, as was the feeling of her mound pressing against me through her thin dress. My dick had taken on a life of its own and was crying to be set free.

"I can't wait either, honey," I replied, with a wicked grin.

"Now I'm going to tell you something else." She loosened her grip a little.

"I've been feeling more and more attached to you these days. Does that make you feel afraid?"

It kind of did. I thought back to Monica. My last relationship, the one I had worked at. It had felt like work. And every new day finding the rock at the bottom of the hill again. Being with Lucy was easy, such a relief after that. The last thing I needed was for this to become work too.

"Do you think it should make me feel afraid?" I said, buying time.

"I have a pretty good idea it might. We've been over our pasts with each other a few times. I know yours wasn't too pretty, and, well, you know about mine."

"Well, I'll admit that years of either being let down or being told that I've let her down kind of wore me down."

"I know," she said. "But I don't want to be like that, and I don't think you want to either. Maybe we've learned our lessons now?"

"Maybe. What kind of lessons?"

"Like maybe it's not helpful to expect someone to be something they aren't. We've both been on both sides of that, I think."

"I know I have," I said.

Here it was. We were in the 'relationship' discussion, the one I hadn't expected to be in today, but in some part of my mind I had sensed might come.

"I think now it's better to just look at a person, see them for what they are, and either accept that or not. I just want you to know that what I see in you I want to be closer to. Closer than being fuck-pals, nice as that is."

"That's a surprise to me, Lucy. I look in the mirror and I don't think I'm that much of a prize. I mean, I'll probably never be rich. I have a few talents. Maybe I'm easy to be with, but maybe that's because I've given up expecting much."

"Don't sell yourself short, please. I may be seeing something you don't. Anyway, I just wanted to say, if I should slip up sometime and say something, uh, emotional, that's not meant to be a challenge or to put expectations on you. It'd be a free offering. Okay?"

"Okay," I said. "And I don't mean to say that you haven't been much better to me than I ever expected. When I think about it, I'm damn fortunate to have you in my life."

"All right then. Enough of that for now. I want to get back to some of this."

And she pulled me in again, pressing herself against me tightly. My erection was returning. Then her mouth found mine and I got lost in the feeling of her warm lips, warm breath, and warm body.

I was quiet on the drive out to the shack. I was turning things over in my mind. Thankfully Lucy seemed to understand and didn't press me with conversation.

"And you know, Bill, you don't have much of a sense of humor. You might think you do, but you don't."

Monica had hit me with that, one time following some stupid misunderstanding. I couldn't remember the subject anymore. Just some damned communication failure.

"What if I do, and you just don't get it?" I had snapped back.

I admit that one royally pissed me off. If I had no sense of humor, why was she with me in the first place? Isn't that supposed to be number one or two on every woman's list, at least when they're not being honest and admitting that what they really want is a guy with tons of money, a chiseled jaw and a huge dick—none of which I had either? Okay, that last part was bitterness talking. I know, they're flawed creatures just like I am, usually trying to be their better selves even as I do. But it galled me, like getting a rubdown with a cheese grater.

At least Lucy and I seemed not to have that problem. She laughed at my jokes and got my cultural references, and I got hers. So many things were easier.

So why did I feel hesitant to get closer? Everything seemed to be running smoothly between us.

That wasn't too hard to figure out. I was afraid that it was working smoothly only because we were keeping it cool. Isn't it always when you get emotionally involved that the trouble starts?

The Jeep was passing the entrance to The Peninsula. Private Road / Owners and Guests Only read the sign across from the one bearing the name, flashing in my headlights. Twenty-four lots built on top of the wetlands of the Sound, a developer's dream. This was not our destination.

So I was afraid. What was I, a coward? Lucy deserved better than that. She was going to want better than that. My fear was unworthy of me.

But I realized that I couldn't have asked for a better companion for the last year, and that it would hurt like hell to lose her for any reason. That was what I feared. It was the risk.

But wasn't I already invested? I had built the shack with a mind toward it being a hideout for the two of us specifically. No one else.

We were at John's place, a big, friendly white beach house on our left.

I slowed and pulled the Jeep off the road and into his guest parking spot.

"Here we are," I said. "It's about fifty yards in back, just at the edge of the beach."

"Let's go then," she replied.

We got our small bags, packed with the essentials, out of the back and started around the side of the house. John's was a real beachfront property: no climbing stairs down a fifty-foot cliff to get to the ocean, just a gentle slope that was easy to walk. Lucy slipped her hand into mine as we made our way down.

It didn't look like much from the back, just a wall made of planks with no windows, ten feet wide and eight high, supported on studs driven into the sand and the earth underneath.

"Here's what it started as," I said, showing her the outdoor shower, now joined to the side of the shack. It was a bit larger than a regular shower stall, allowing room to dry off and change clothes. It had walls but no ceiling. I pulled open the spring-loaded door to show her the plumbing.

"Does it work?"

"It does indeed," I said, turning on the water to show her. "That's the beauty of it. A water feature always makes a property worth more."

You can hardly turn around on this island without being subjected to realtor-speak. I often found myself dropping into it sarcastically.

"Oh? How much are you asking?"

I could see in the fading dusk that she had that wicked grin going, playing along with my conceit.

"It's priceless. I couldn't part with it. I built it for us."

Her eyes widened at my admission.

"I like that," she said. "Show me the rest."

I led her around to the front. She stepped up onto the deck, now exposed to the full moonlight. The light breeze off the ocean molded the front of her dress to her body, showing me every delightful curve.

"Oh, this is wonderful! I could just sit here and watch the waves for hours."

"We could," I agreed. "And if it gets a little chilly, we could have a fire." I pointed to the fire ring.

"Wonderful," she repeated. "Can we look inside?"

I worked the combo lock on the door latch. My birth date. Neither the combination nor the latch would stop someone determined, but they would discourage casual idiots. That was all the security I had planned.

The door opened, and I clicked on the switch beside the opening inside. The overhead 12-volt lights came on, bathing the interior in soft illumination. The walls were unfinished: there were only the planks and studs, but the planks fit together closely, and the wiring was hidden inside plastic conduit that was painted to match the wood. The plank floor was covered with carpet remnants sewn together, making it friendly to bare feet. On the opposite wall were the music player, amplifier and miniature speakers, sitting on a low shelf. A wooden box on the floor against the side wall held the batteries and charging regulator. I had attached a cushion to the hinged top, making it double as a seat.

The remaining feature in the room was the bed. A queen-size mattress on a low platform was made up simply but comfortably with soft sheets and warm blankets. A waterproof cover lay over it for protection. Above it was the only window, a small opening covered with Plexiglas and equipped with a pull-down blind.

"What a cozy little hideaway you've made here! Could we spend the night?"

"If it's warm enough, like tonight, sure," I said. "We'd be sleeping under the stars."

I pointed to the Plexiglas skylight above our heads. It remained to be seen how leak-proof the roof was, though I had taken some care with that part of the construction. It would certainly be fine on a clear night like tonight.

"I can't wait," she said. "This puts me in the mood for a moonlight swim. How about you?"

"Can't think of anything better. I have the blanket."

"I've got the wine. C'mon, let's get ready." And she pulled the bottle out of her bag.

We were familiar with each others' bodies, so weren't bashful about changing together, although she did turn her back to me at first. She quickly slipped out of her dress, allowing me to admire her smooth, supple back and the way her sweet, round ass filled out her cream-colored panties.

I got my pants off while she pulled her bra straps down and, freeing her breasts from the cups, tugged the garment halfway around to undo the clasp. When it came off, I was there to catch it and toss it onto the bed. My hands went around her, cupping her soft boobs. My new erection pressed between her cheeks through our two flimsy layers of clothing. She shivered as I ran my lips along the side of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin.

"Easy there...we've got all night," she said, though she was clearly excited.

I put on my best faux-dominant croak. "My price for releasing you...one kiss."