Peek A Boo

“Well I never mind getting my feet wet a little,” Aphra said, deadpan enough that she was sure the innuendo got through.

Town had stopped the cab at the entrance to the wood bridge to the Avalon, and then kind of mosied around, leaning over the rail and staring down where the water under the span. He pointed out a barracuda to her, and three pearlescent cuttlefish flitting through the cone of light The he’d looked around and said, “I kind of hate to go inside, it’s so nice. And this beach is just so perfect. Am I crazy to want to kick off my sandals and do a little moonlight wading?”

So get their feet wet they did. He kicked off his sandals off and was sloshing along the waveless shallows. She hiked up her skirt, to the desired effect, and fell in beside him. Slogging around the shallows by Na Balam, bumming along North Beach, chatting nicely, Aphra had to wonder. Did he know he was standing right in front of her place, talking about not wanting to go over to the Avalon? Stay down here on the sand and all? Be interesting to find out if he’s even registered at the Avalon. Aphra definitely reading him as competition at that point.

And he kind of had her. Obviously she’d rather snoop out his room and he’d rather do hers. But was she going to say, No, to hell with the tropical beauty, let’s go into your hotel? But know what, sometimes it’s just, See one, play one. So she hit him with the wet feet line, then sunk it with, “Know, what? We could have those drinks on my front porch. Right up there, behind the palm trees.”

“You’re staying here? Man, that’s so cool. I booked an all-inclusive over there, but now I see this place right on the beach, nice old buildings, I wish I’d known.”

Well come on over for some all-inclusive, Casper, Aphra thought. Said, “It’s a great little spot. You drink rum?”

“Don’t they call it grog around the Caribbean?”

“All I got is some Coke.” That was a probe, of course, but not a flicker. So, “Why do they call rum and Coke a ‘Cuba Libre’, anyway?”

“Government secret. I think they can pull your passport just for saying it.”

“Nah, the Democrats are in now. My man Obama be down there swapping spit with Fidel, sending them tractors and Mastercards.”

He spotted a round flat rock in a foot of water, picked it up and skimmed it on the surface. Aphra admired the clean, powerful delivery, the rock skipping completely out of sight. Man didn’t just look good and talk shit, he could move himself, huh? She had another of those weird moments when she looked a man over and thought; Not bad, not bad, oughta give it another shot. Whatever else he was, he was damn sure pretty.

Meanwhile Townsend was getting almost alarmed at the way his intentions were zigzagging between taking care of business and wanting to just wrap himself around this big, smart beauty and hang on until he knew how it came out. Fortunately, the two urges coincided at the moment, and were headed in a promising direction.

And it got more promising after two drinks, when she slipped inside to “visit the ladies” as she put it, and he could take a quick scan. He ran his art of the State iPod-disguised transponder over her purse and got nothing. Maybe it was reading something out in Langley or wherever the hyper-tech innards were routing things. He turned up the field, broadened it to maximum mayancalendargirls.comcardiac pattern, and got a blip or two from inside the room. He quickly slipped on the stylish sunglasses the guys called “X-Ray Spex” and leaned over to peer through the window. The displays fired in his left peripheral vision, and he spotted two different hot spots: the nightstand drawer and the pocket of that robe hanging by the bathroom door. Which was opening, so he ducked out of view and pocketed the shades and bug-buster. It had been a quick glimpse of the reads, but she was using some pretty trick stuff, herself. Then she was back on the porch. Wearing the robe. So much for heading for a whiz and copping her feed. On the other hand, he was electrified by the fact that she was standing there in a bathrobe.

And even more so when she said, in a rather smoky tone, “Know what I like about this place? Makes it easy to do a little skinny-dipping at night.”

He felt an unaccustomed, and not really desirable, leap in his chest at that. Damn! He was already on his feet. Totally ready to strip off and follow her delectable ass into the water. Leaving all his toys here in his clothes, and once they came back there wouldn’t be much way to snatch the stuff up, would there?

Among the characteristics Town shared with his father, that proved advantageous in his line of work, was the ability to make very quick decisions to take uncalculated risks. He stood up and faced her, looked straight into her eyes, and said, “How about we save that for after?”

“After, you saying?” she put a lot of arch and English on it. “After what, may I ask?”

“After all,” he said, and stepped right up to her: touching her breast with his, reaching to hold that wiry waist he could almost span with his hands, lifting his thumbs to loosen her robe’s terrycloth belt. “After us.”

She fixed him with a steely eye, from six maddeningly scented inches away, and said, “Will you please remove your hands from my ass, mister?”

Well, you give it your shot, he was thinking as he let his hands fall to his side and trotted out his boyish, sorry-ma’am grin. Which she wiped off quick by shrugging the robe off her shoulders and letting it slide down her to the ground. And saying, “That’s better.”

He actually took a step back. Taking her all in. Jesus frickin’ Christ on a crutch, was his assessment. Holy frickin’ shit. She smiled and tapped her foot. “Backin’ off already, white meat? I kinda thought you had more developed ideas.”

She stepped up to him with her hands cupped on her smooth, shaved crotch. Then cupped on his crotch. His impression was not unlike sticking his main unit into an electrical socket. He went to full erect position so fast he was surprised he didn’t fall over from the venous pressure drop.

She smiled appreciatively. “Now, that’s the kind of idea I’m talking about. Sometimes more is just damnwell more.”

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