I am so, so, so, so sorry for neglecting this fic. I did not forget it. Other Ichabbie fanfic stories have taken over (Strings/Back to Us) and so has my own original work. I will try to do better about updating this one. It's my baby, where writing Ichabbie fanfic all started for me. I started this collection two years ago during the summer. Thank you for everyone who has read, reviewed, followed. Thank you for sticking with this little collection. I appreciate it so much. Enjoy this little fun piece inspired by "How Stella Got Her Groove Back" by Terry McMillan. I think we all could use an escape right now considering what's going on in the world, especially in Charlottesville. If I have any readers who live there, please be stay safe.
"Excuse me. Is this seat occupied, ma'am?" a white man says to Abbie.
"All yours."
He smiles at her. "Thank you."
She smiles, too, says, "Yep."
He plops himself in the chaise lounge chair beside her. He's naked. She's naked. Everyone here is naked. It's a nudist beach resort, so…
The blue waves seduce her brown eyes gain. They hurry to the shore and attempt to snatch painted toenails, seashells, and dingy jewelry into its bottomless, greedy sea. As if it didn't have enough things swimming and floating around in it. She enjoys wave watching. Only partakes in it twice a year. In June, when humidity frizzes her curly hair and in December, when New York's negative 2 degree weather freezes her fucking ass off.
That's where she's from. Sleepy Hollow to be exact. It's a small town. Quiet. Everyone is in everyone's business, except hers because she knows how to keep her damned mouth shut.
Her job is amazing. It's her dream. She's an F.B.I agent. The day is never boring. There's always a creep to profile, always a bloody body to be found, always suspects to interrogate. It keeps her busy. She helps a lot of people. Again, it's a dream. But sometimes, she wants freedom, wants to get away from proper F.B.I protocol, pressed suit pants and dry-cleaned blouses, stacks of paperwork that take hours to complete, sign, and submit. She wants to be free of midnight phone calls and search parties and tears and long hours. And, so, she comes here, to a nudist beach in California, where she's free. Literally.
"If I may ask, ma'am, is this your first time attending this beach?"
Her eyes won't leave the water. "It's my third year here. You?"
"I've never done this before."
She glances at him. His beard is brown as well as his shoulder-length hair. There's hair on his chest and arms. And maybe she peeks where she isn't supposed to, to see if he has hair there, too. She doesn't know because his hands cover his penis. He really is new.
"Relax. No one here gives a shit about your junk."
He blushes. "Are you certain?"
"Positive."
"The residents have stared at me."
She laughs. "Because of how you're covering yourself. Of course, they'll stare. It looks odd. You can wear a towel or shorts. No one will judge you."
"I'm relieved to hear that." He takes a towel out of his bag and sets it across his private area.
"You don't look comfortable. Why'd you visit?"
There are literally naked women and men everywhere. Some of them build sand castles with their asses sticking out. Women, with their breasts constantly abounce, and men, with their slinging dicks, play volleyball and soccer. Guests swim in the water naked as the day they slipped out of their mother's vaginas. For crying out loud, people eat California rolls and drink sangrias at the bar without clothes. It's not a big deal. They're happy. They're living. He should live, too.
"My friend, Abraham Van Brunt, said I should loosen up. He visits this resort often and highly recommended it to me. However, he failed to mention it was a nudist resort. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the hotel for check-in."
She giggles and giggles. "I'm sorry. I know it's not funny, but I know it was a shock. Your face was a true Kodak moment, I bet."
"Oh, it was, I can assure you, Miss…"
"Abbie. Call me Abbie."
"Abbie. My name is Ichabod Crane. It's very nice to meet you."
They shake hands.
"You, too. So, why do you need to loosen up?"
He sighs. "I am quite the perfectionist, especially concerning my job. I'm a history professor at a local university. I'm quite detail-oriented and well-planned. For instance, my syllabus has no spelling errors. My lectures and notes are arranged in alphabetical and chronological order. If my students get one historical detail wrong on a test or in a paper, I instantly dock of five points. I like structure. I'm very particular. I'm stiff, you could say. It aggravates the people around me to no end. That is why I need to loosen up."
"I don't blame him for sending you here. You do have a large stick up your ass."
A laugh comes from him. "You have such colorful language, Abbie. I quite like it. You're very honest."
"It's the only way to be." She pauses. "It's okay if you're nervous. I was nervous my first time. I stayed in my room the very first day and ordered room service if that tells you anything."
"How did you overcome your nerves?"
"I said, 'What the hell? I signed up for this trip to be free for a bit. I can't be a punk ass, not after how much it cost.' Then I stripped down and went to the beach like I wasn't bothered to show my bare ass. And eventually, it didn't bother me anymore."
"I'm glad you feel comfortable and unrestricted in this environment. If I may ask, what do you want to be free from?"
She explains her job and all it entails.
"That is quite a career. Though rewarding, it sounds like it can be rather daunting and trying."
"It can be. That's why I come here. It helps me unwind. I'm not stressed when I leave. If you let go, give it a chance, it'll do the same for you. I promise."
His blue eyes inhale the warm sand, the noisy ocean, and the laughing residents. "Well, it never hurts to try."
He shoves the towel in his bag, stands, holds out his hand to her. "Would you care to join me in a swim, Abbie?"
She takes his hand. "Not at all, Crane."
They swim and share random tales about themselves. He's from Sleepy Hollow like her and loves to cook anything and everything, though he's really partial to desserts. She loves to watch Netflix documentaries and eat pasta. He can spend hours reading, so much so that he forgets to relieve himself and fill his stomach. She secretly believes she's a mermaid and no one can tell her otherwise.
They go on and on until they wrinkle, until the sky pinks and the sun sets. He wraps himself in his towel and she throws on her coverup. And then they go eat at the bar.
He wants to play it safe and order fish or chicken, but she dares him to be adventurous. He asks for ribs and French fries. And goes for Sex on the Beach instead of his usual rum and cola.
She smiles. "Doesn't it feel good to let yourself go?"
"It's beginning to, Abbie. It's beginning to."
As they eat, lovebirds and singles and girlfriends sing mostly 90's karaoke that guests, waiters, and bartenders dance and chime along to themselves.
"You dance?" she says.
"I fear I will not make the best dance partner." He avoids her eyes, wiggles his fingers that he hides under the table.
"Why? I love to dance."
"I'm fear it'll look like I'll have a large stick up my ass."
She half laughs and half chokes on her wine cooler.
"Touché."
"However, since I am letting go, I suppose we could dance together. I'll have to admit that not only am I a horrid dancer, I'm also unfamiliar with this music."
A woman with bright colors in her hair sings Montell Jordan's "This is How We Do It."
"It's a popular R&B/Hip-Hop song from 1995. Still a bop today. They'll probably sing more songs in this genre and some pop songs, too. What kind of music do you listen to?"
"I enjoy classical."
"Well, this is a good way to get exposure to something else. You may like it. Keep an open mind." She tugs him from his chair and finds them a spot in the crowd.
He attempts to dance to the beat, but he has no damned rhythm whatsoever, so she stops him.
"Follow me."
She moves from side to side, nods her head. He copies her, but still doesn't go at the pace of the music. It makes her giggle.
"Think of it as counting the beats. One, two, three. One, two, three."
Eventually, he catches the pace. Then she teaches him a few simple 90s dance moves, which to her surprise he's kind of good at learning. After the song ends, a man terribly belts "Right Here Waiting" by Richard Marx. It's a slow song.
"You can keep up with this one, I know." Abbie pokes him.
He smirks at her. "I can." Then he pulls her to him. Their chests and waists touch.
She smells salt on him, wants to steal the pineapple and cherry fruit juice that touched his tongue earlier. Wonders if he wants to taste her lips, too. His eyes won't stop shining. It's like he's having the time of his life for the first time. She's glad to help him with that. He reminds her to keep having the time of hers, no matter how often she comes here. And she wants to visit as much as she can, but now she wants to visit with him, too. They dance until the bar closes.
"What are your plans for the rest of the night?" he says.
They are outside her hotel room. He wanted to walk her back, so she let him. She thinks it's sweet and endearing of him.
"Going to retire to my bed."
He steps into her personal space, grabs her hands. "Or perhaps, you can retire to my bed. I'm one floor up."
She finally pecks his lips. They are sweet. "Led the way."
Of course it doesn't take them forever to undress. She quickly removes his towel while he swiftly pulls her coverup over her head. He sucks her lips, her neck, her nipples. His tongue teases hers. He's an amazing kisser.
"I didn't say this earlier, as I wanted to respect you and your body in such a vulnerable state. However, you are quite lovely."
She bites her bottom lip. "I'm not going to lie. I thought you were pretty cute, too. I may have even peeked at your…" She glimpses down toward his penis. It was a nice size.
He chuckles. "Not to worry. Since we are being honest, I may have gawked at your ass more than once."
She squeals when he squeezes it and kisses his chest. "We're free to do whatever we want, don't you think?" Her hand grips and moves up and down his dick as his eyes close.
"Free indeed."
Her mind can't help but wonder how he is in bed. If he's rigid at work, he could be rigid in the bedroom, too. She's expecting he's old-school, missionary-style only. More than likely, he may not experiment or try new things. He likes to be safe. But he actually does surprise her with what he says next.
"Would you do me the honor of sitting on my face?"
Her eyes are wide, she's quiet. Then she breaks out in a chortle because it is so unexpected. On top of that, he asks so proper and so gentlemanly.
"Did I say something wrong, Abbie?"
She contains herself before she pushes him on the bed still in a small fit of giggles. "Not in the slightest. I didn't think you'd request such a thing."
"I'm not as prude as you would think." He winks.
"Show me."
Carefully, she sits her pussy on his face. His beard doesn't feel scratchy or annoying like she though it would. It adds to the pleasure of his tongue, which does amazing things. He flicks it this way and that on her clit and inside her vagina. Her nails dig into the headboard while she sways above him, moaning and repeating his name. When he groans into her like a wild man and sucks her wet pussy, her head tilts far back.
"Mmm…you're too good at this, Crane."
He grips her hips to bring her even closer to his mouth.
"Shit…"
Now, he's sucking her harder. She's gasping for his name that she isn't able to say because her orgasm is approaching. And approaching. And approaching until she feels high and out of control and amazing. She throbs, gets off him. The throbbing and trembling she's experiencing tells her she can't take more. He surprises her again when he says he isn't finished. She knows she's thirsty as fuck for this man because her legs open on their own.
"I want to use my fingers now."
"Fuck." She doesn't know what she's gotten herself into. He will literally be her undoing. More than once, which she's more than okay with. She's never orgasmed more than twice in sex and is curious to know what he'll bring her.
"Open wide," he says between her legs.
"You sound like my fucking dentist." She giggles.
"Ironically, that's the career path I almost considered. However—"
"Crane."
"Right."
He gets right to it, slips two fingers in her vagina while his thumb nudges her clit. Again, he's taking her there and her body is letting him. She's wiggles like a damn worm, quickly shoves her hips forward, and squeezes her breast because she has nothing else to grip. It all just feels good. Now, she's floating once more. Her second orgasm almost takes her breathe. Crane kisses her. How she tastes is still there on his lips and in his beard.
"Are you ready for part 3?"
"Yes."
His lips kiss her cheek, forehead, nose. He puts on a condom first before finding his place between her thighs. Both of her hands are in his. Their fingers twine. He pushes his penis into her. Slowly. Until he hits her G-spot. He's big. She doesn't care. He feels wonderful, tells him as much. Then he moves, thrusts. And oh her word, this man…can probably make her see Mars and Jupiter and Saturn with how he slides in and out of her. She likes listening to him grunt and moan her name.
"Faster…" she says.
He obliges. They are kissing, and he's fucking her like he's been her lover from the very start. Soon, her orgasm is close. Really close. Her nails dig in his ass. There she is again, coming for him and shaking in his arms. He kisses her lips as he removes himself from her to throw away the condom, only to put on a new one. This time he added extra lube to it.
"One more round."
This motherfucker is trying to ruin her.
"Why haven't you climaxed yet?"
"Practice, Treasure."
She's nosy and asks, "With other women?"
He's breathless and laughs. "With myself."
She knows exactly what he meant. "You're a damned freak, aren't you, Mr. Ichabod Crane?"
"Perhaps. I haven't heard you complain though, dear Abbie."
"I have no complaints. How do you want me?"
"Turn over."
They are in the doggy-style position. Before she could even blink, he hit the right spot when he gently pushed his dick into her asshole. She moaned and sighed again, let herself free. Tells him yes, there. There.
He's groaning. Her name falls from his lips over and over. Suddenly, it's his turn to undo. When he orgasms he feels even bigger for some reason. He's throbbing. She's still aching for more, pushes herself back against him. His dick has to be the Chosen Dick because it's driving her insane. Then her final orgasm takes over. It's better than the last three. She feels it in her toes and fingertips, in her breastbone. This man can get down like she couldn't believe. And she loves that. As much as she wants to suck his dick, to give him some kind of reward for putting it down, she's tired. Lets him know this while he gathers himself.
"It is alright, Treasure. As long as you satisfied, I am more than happy." He kisses her cheek.
"You're too sweet. When do you go home?"
"In five days. You?
"The same. That's enough time for me to fuck your world up next."
"I look forward to it."
They cuddle under the covers, sweaty and warm-skinned. Then they are quiet.
"Thank you for today, Abbie. I appreciated you pushing me and encouraging me to let loose. I've forgotten what that feels like. It's been so long since I've had any real fun. You've reminded me what it's like to be carefree again and what it's like to get out of my head."
"You're more than welcome, Ichabod. It was fun to see that side of you, even if I don't know a lot about how you are outside of here. You've reminded me to not take this for granted. I think I have been lately. It's all so new for you. I've learned to keep discovering new things from our time today. So, thank you."
"You are most welcome."
"Will we keep in contact after this is over?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way. I don't consider this a fling. I want to know you better." He touches her cheek, her nose with his finger.
She kisses his palm. "Me, too."
And they snuggle closer, enjoying the quiet and how the other breathes. Then Crane says, "Abbie, it just dawned on me that I don't know your last name."
She laughs hard because this is a Crane thing to do, to mention unexpected things at such random moments. But he is right. He doesn't know her last name. She didn't think they'd make it this far, so she didn't share it. Plus, he could've been crazy and she wasn't about to give her last name out to just anyone, especially at a nudist beach because...creepers.
Her lips find his once more. "It's Mills. Abbie Mills."