The Bridesmaids Ch. 00

Prelude - BEACHSIDE ENCOUNTER

"Novus ordo sæclorum" [A new age begins.] - Vergil

Business had been good this summer. The firm was in its best financial position in years, a change from its usual dismal performance. The hot summers never gave them a break. Work, work, work, and still lose money in the end. But this time it was different. Was it the new clients, the new properties, or the magic from the wizards in marketing?

These thoughts hammered at the small bit of pleasure Trent Booth enjoyed. Leaning on the hood of his silver Mercedes roadster, he sipped Scotch from his hip flask. Parked on the small lot and surrounded by rocky outcroppings, he watched the waves roll into the beach. The slight buzz from the single malt made the waves a solid wall of sound. It enveloped his ears and reverberated off his chest. His unbuttoned pale blue shirt rippled against the wind.

A storm was on the horizon, filling the china blue sky with ominous gray clouds. Street clothes hastily slipped over sunbathers' tanned bodies as reluctant boyfriends and husbands removed umbrellas spiked into the sand, rolled up beach towels, and marched woozy-eyed to their waiting vehicles. Others remained, either stubbornly resisting or simply forgetting the need to return to everyday life.

He took off his shirt and sleeve-less undershirt, throwing them in the trunk of the car. Then he slipped off his shoes and headed to the beach, wearing only his dress slacks and carrying a beach towel. The sand scorched his bare feet, the sun beating down mercilessly when it peaked through the clouds. There might be a storm tonight. Trent smiled at the possibility, thunderstorms always soothing him into booze-soaked unconsciousness.

Once he found a spot, he spread out his beach towel and surveyed the landscape. Thoughts of work faded, then quickly shifted.

'When was the last time I got laid?' He thought.

Work had overwhelmed him these past few weeks. He could barely remember the last time, let alone the last girl, he fucked. Behind his sunglasses, he saw a few nymphs, either playing the water or sunbathing. As his pants slipped off, the warm breeze brushed over his naked cock. The sun warmed his body as he put on a pair of black Speedos. Men far fatter and far older wore the same attire, but on Trent it streamlined his body, smoothing it until it replicated Roman statuary.

Wind brushed through his black hair as he drifted off to sleep. His rolled up slacks cushioned his head, his eyelids heavy from long nights poring over spreadsheets, budget reports, and research data. Boring, monotonous, bloodless. Straining to stay awake, he watched a couple playing tennis on the beach. The girl slapped her wooden paddle, sending the rubber ball over to her male friend. As she hit the ball, her naked breasts bounced. Her dark nipples stiffened in the cooler air. She smiled, her slender body dancing against the waves. A voluptuous blonde walked past, oblivious, talking on her cell phone.

Then it hit him: sun tan lotion! He forgot it in the car. But he kept staring at the tennis girl, his cock stiffening beneath his Speedos. She eventually faded into oblivion, the overcast sky turned black. Dreams crowded his mind, tasting her nipples, salty with sea water.

When he woke up, the beach was nearly deserted. All around him, people packed their belongings and headed to their cars. He stretched, catlike, his joints cracking. How long had he slept? To Trent, it felt like he had just arrived only minutes ago.

"What time is it?" He asked a passing couple.

"About five thirty," the man said, looking at his watch.

Trent couldn't remember the last time he checked his watch. He didn't know what time he arrived. The bewilderment left him a little edgy. The jangled nerves wouldn't be calmed by driving home in the thickening traffic, only to enter an empty beach-house. He rented a beach-house for the summer from a business associate. Up until last week he hadn't used it all. He had deals to close. Much more important than a beachside view and the pretty maid he had seen only twice.

He had the occasional weekend party, but that was it. Mostly he slept in the apartment downtown and The Residence, the family mansion within the corporate compound. Since his father owned the majority share of the company, he lived rent free. Unfortunately, with all the business and the nights in, he started to feel like a "kept woman." They paid him handsomely and he remained quiet, the integrity of the family name preserved. Catering to such an obsolete notion left him nauseous.

A half an hour ride home, a short shower, probably no more than fifteen minutes, maybe watch a little TV ...

Trent didn't want to do any math. The whole reason he drove out here meant the escape from numbers and the drudgery of constant scheduling. Every ten minute block of life needn't require regimented designation in the monthly planner.

The clouds began to fill the air with foreboding, distant thunder crackling across the bay. But on the beach, remnants of sunlight still peeked through the clouds. The sand felt soft between his toes. As evening approached the heat slightly dissipated. The beach now seemed less like an outdoor sauna. As he continued to walk, he saw an area he never knew existed. The rocks became less frequent and shade provided by monolithic hotels became replaced by trees and foliage. Giant pieces of driftwood rested on shore like giant relics, waterlogged and sun scorched.

As he walked he saw a woman on foot in the opposite direction. She had long brown hair and wore large sunglasses. Trent tried to discern the rest, but she still was too far off. She wore a blue bikini and a silken wrap around her waist.

He hazarded a wave.

She waved back.

When she finally became close enough to greet, he saw that she was an older woman. At least in these parts. If you were not eighteen to twenty-one and possessed the body of a goddess, you were an older woman. But the obsession on the young and the pliant appeared misplaced with this woman.

"Hello," Trent said.

"Hello," She answered.

Her smile cheered Trent up for some unknown reason. He witnessed his share of smooth, fit bodies with buoyant breasts and succulent nipples, but this woman's smile was actually beautiful in the profoundly genuine way not captured in fashion magazines and pornography.

"I'm Trent,"

"I'm Jocasta,"

She couldn't have been older than her thirties. As she smiled he saw her crow's feet and her veined hands. Nothing unexpected. She either had a genius plastic surgeon or a personal trainer. He didn't see any signs of the former on her naked stomach. Although thinner than other women of the same age, Trent still thought she looked rather sensuous. Not voluptuous, but also not someone afraid to eat dessert in the presence of a man.

"What brings you over here?" She asked.

"I just wanted to walk,"

"Away from all the beautiful beach bunnies?"

"No, not that. I had a long day at work,"

"Poor baby," She made a mock sad face, then giggled.

"No ... I mean ..."

"Don't apologize," Her hand touched Trent's arm. The momentary contact sent electricity through him. "This is the beach. The water is warm and the sand is soft. This is the last place for apologies,"

The cool wind made her nipples stiffen. Trent tried not to stare.

She shivered from the unexpected breeze. After noticing Trent's area of interest, she took off her glasses and crossed her arms. Blocking his view, she frowned and tapped her foot.

Taking off her glasses let him see her green eyes. A little smirk sneaked into her scowl, making her cheekbones shine.

"I ... uh ..." Left speechless, he scratched his head.

"You're blushing!" She held his wrist and laughed. "You're actually blushing!"

"Sorry, I mean ... I didn't ..."

"What did I say about apologies?" She hooked her sunglasses on to the front of her bikini top. "Do you know the last time a boy blushed because of me?"

'Boy?' Trent thought. 'She couldn't be that much older than him? Could she?'

Trent became so distracted trying to think of an answer for her question, that he completely forgot about his stiffening erection. It ached to break free from the confines of his swimming briefs.

She stared at the bulge and smirked.

"College girls not good enough, eh?"

"What?" Trent felt confused. 'What's her deal? Mind games?'

"I don't follow,"

"Oh come on now, Trent, you can't play stupid with that pointing the way," She pointed at his cock. Normally, if any girl would have displayed that kind of candor, he would have been immediately turned off. But this time the opposite happened. Her bracing personality turned him on. He wanted to fuck her right then and there.

"There the ones walking around with their tits hanging out and-"

He kissed her, his body pressing into hers. She kissed back, her mouth opening to let him taste her tongue. Holding her cheeks, he stared into her eyes. Salt from the sea air mixed with her hair, as Trent smelled her sun kissed skin. Abruptly interrupting their kisses, he spotted a fallen tree on the beach, abutting the nearby forest. Jocasta giggled.

"C'mon," she said.

She led him towards the massive tree, its battered bark once black now bleached from years of direct sunlight. The gnarled branches had been stripped of leaves, creating a delicate lattice-work arching over their heads.

Feverishly, he kissed her lips, intoxicated by the perfume of her breath and skin, as he began to kiss her cheeks. His hands, desperately holding back his lusts, caressed her shoulders and arms. She guided his hands onto her breasts. His fingers slid over the silken fabric, feeling the erect nipples beneath.

She pinched his nipples, feeling his body wrench in pained ecstasy. He slammed his body against hers, pressing her back to the tree trunk. She untied the neck strap of her bikini, letting it fall to her sides.

As he kissed her neck, his head traveled down to her breasts, his teeth clenching the bikini top. He pulled the top away, revealing an erect nipple. With animal instinct, he began to lick her nipple, his other hand pulling her top off. Savage yet tender, his desires poured out while his tongue danced on her tits. A drunken moan escaped her lips.

His hand slid down her stomach and into her bikini bottom. Her pussy moistened at his touch, her scent reminiscent of afternoons eating raw oysters. She embodied the sea with its succulent riches and bestial energy. He watched her breasts bounce while she moaned, his hands lubricating her inner cunt.

Pressing his body close to hers, he let her hand travel down his chest and stomach into his Speedo. As she pumped his cock, throbbing, aching for release, she gave him a mischievous smile. Trent's moans were uncontrolled, bestial, like a feral animal trying to release itself from a trap.

He pushed her back until her butt pressed against the fallen tree trunk. Then he violently slid off her bikini bottoms.

"What are you waiting for? Fuck me," She said, her hand stroking the moistened flesh between her legs.

Walking up to her, he inserted himself inside of her. Inhaling suddenly, she gripped his shoulders. Trent worked silently, the slow rhythms matching the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

"Didn't expect this today, I imagine," Jocasta said between breaths.

"No, not really,"

"You would have probably preferred someone younger," She gave that smile again.

He stared into her eyes, trying to divine some motive, some reason for what she said.

"No, I want you,"

He felt her clench his cock, then release it.

"Then act like it,"

"What?"

"Fuck me. Fuck me hard. You're acting like I'm made out of glass. I'm not going to break,"

He began to withdraw, then slid back inside. Pushing into her as far as he could. Holding her butt, he slammed into her again and again. She placed her head on his shoulder, whimpering from his repeated thrusts.

As the undulations continued, he began to feel part of her body. Their breathing and heartbeat joined together into a single cadence. Her eyes moist and brow furrowed, she stared at him, her fingers stroking his black hair. A pained smile came across her face, a new variation different from the earlier mischief making smirk. Trent was taken aback by the honesty of this expression.

The stress and anxiety of the previous weeks began to lift off his shoulders, wound so taut and burdened with responsibility and proper behavior and the rest of the needless office decorum. Gone the constant requirement to appear selfless and serious, all in the name of the company and the good family name. The cramped interiors of cubicles and faux Victorian offices faded into the crimson sunset haloed by black storm clouds.

"Oh yes yes yes yes ..." Jocasta's voice trailed off beneath peals of thunder in the distance. "Oh God! Oh god oh god ..."

His cock, rigid and aloft, suspended Jocasta on the tree trunk as he ached for release. The days and weeks and months spent in chaste industrious deal making sent the cravings through his body. Once he climaxed, he would cease to feel so stressed out. His body, drawn out and overtired, yearned to end it all. Trent fought back the sleep and the stress, wanting to fuck Jocasta more. Not wanting to leave her body, the softness of her flesh and the taste of her mouth, he pounded harder.

She whimpered, her teeth brushing against his chest.

"Almost there?" She asked.

"Almost," It was all Trent could utter, his body rigid.

"Let me help,"

He withdrew himself from her and sat winded on the tree trunk.

"Just close your eyes," Her hand began pumping his cock again.

She kneeled on the sand and continued her ministrations. Getting close to him, she slid her fingers up and down the shaft. Trent moaned and tensed up as her fingers ran over the head of his cock.

"Okay?" She sounded concerned.

Trent nodded, the pleasure and pain she gave him enveloping his body like a flame.

He felt his cock slide over her breasts, the head touching her erect nipples. She pressed her breasts together, closing around his member. Instinctively, Trent's pelvis began to thrust up and down.

"Yeah, that's it," She said, her tongue licking his glans as it popped up between her tits.

Releasing her tits, she resumed pumping, his cock now lubricated with pre-ejaculate. She tasted it as her tongue traveled along his shaft.

When Trent looked down he saw Jocasta's head bobbing up and down.

As he closed his eyes, it seemed like this moment of pleasure would last an eternity. Thunder rumbled in the distance, filling the beach with a wall of sound. It seemed only they occupied the beach, the other beachgoers having fled.

With his flushed cheeks and sweaty brow, Trent hoped the rain would start falling, too cool him off. He wanted to feel Jocasta's body wet against his, to taste her and fuck her surrounded by water, their bodies floating as one in the sea or a bath or a shower or ...

Her tongue fluttered over the head of his cock, her palm cradling his balls.

'Why can't I cum?' Trent thought. 'No. No. No! This can't be happening. Not now. Not with her.'

Stress threatened to destroy everything that happened before. All would be for naught if he couldn't cum. And he wanted to cum. Desperately desperately wanted to cum.

Jocasta, getting visibly tired from the exertion, asked: "Everything okay?"

"I'm okay. Is it okay you let me do this?"

She seemed confused, possibly hurt.

"I've had a lot of stress at work. Probably why,"

"Sure," She whispered, then smiled.

Trent then began to jack off, his sagging cock eventually regaining its rigidity. As he pumped away, he let the images drench his consciousness. All the fantasies, the perversions, the endless scenarios came pouring back. His mind drenched with acts of unending pleasure and depravity, his cock standing at attention, now became ready dispense the hot seed.

Jocasta watched close by as she masturbated. Realizing Trent was approaching his orgasm, she crept closer.

Trent's face reddened, veins on his neck and face bulging. The sounds he made resembled pained groans.

When he opened his eyes he slowly released the grip of his hand. He cried out as his jism shot on to Jocasta's breasts. She stuck out her tongue, franticly catching the trickle of sperm. As she licked the last drops off of his cock, she sucked him some more.

The crackle of thunder was now dangerously closer to the beach. With the thunderheads traveling above their heads, Jocasta and Trent ran into the water. As Jocasta wiped Trent's jism off her tits and lips, she ran up and embraced him. Trent felt her clit throb beneath the roiling waves.

"We should get out of here. The lightning is getting pretty close,"

"I want you to fuck me again sometime," She said, her face lit up in the darkness like Gustave Moreau's painting of Salome.

"I've never wanted someone so bad,"

They kissed, their arms intertwining as a thunderclap echoed ferociously in the distance.

"Let's get out of the water,"

They left the water, the storm very close to the shoreline. Wind threatened to blow Jocasta's bikini away, but she caught it in time. Trent was able to throw on a shirt and toss the rest of his clothes in the car.

"Is that yours?" She asked.

"Yep. Want a ride home?" Making love in a rainstorm always turned Trent on. He wouldn't mind doing the same with Jocasta.

"It's all right. My car is over there," She pointed to the silver Spyker roadster. Like Jocasta, its top was covered. The same couldn't be said for Trent's Mercedes.

"Nice. Those get great acceleration,"

"So do you, when you're properly motivated," They kissed again, tongues dancing as Trent breathed in her heat.

"C'mon. Come back to my place. It's a beach house about five miles from here,"

"Not tonight,"

"Why not?" Trent asked, indignant at this slight.

"Wouldn't want to wake up any girlfriends you have around,"

"I haven't had any girlfriends around. I've been busting my balls with business deals for the past three months,"

"And no fun on the side?"

"Rarely,"

"Poor boy,"

Rain began to fall. First as large drops.

"Oh fuck, my top!" Trent bellowed as raindrops splattered the leather interior. "Can I call you? No wait, let me get my card."

Trent multitasked, or attempted to, as the convertible top deployed while he busily searched his pockets for a business card.

He took out a card and gave it to Jocasta, her body shivering from the rain.

"Vector Enterprises?"

"Yeah. Now get some clothes on before you catch a cold,"

"That's so weird,"

"Why is that?"

"My fiancé works there," She said, her tone matter of fact, as if mentioning a news item or a shoe color.

Trent stood there, stunned.

"Don't worry about it," Giving him another kiss, she stuffed the card into her bikini bottoms, and ran over to her car.

She got in and drove off, leaving Trent drenched, confused, and frightened.

'Fiancé?' He thought, not noticing his sopping shirt and shoes.