On the Shores
We're on the beach. It's a normal Saturday afternoon. We're on one of our weekly daytrips to the beach half an hour away.
"Wait," I call to Rhys. His eyes are mischievous and dark as he glances back at me, beach tote and a towel slung over his shoulders. He looks good enough to eat in his fedora.
I grab a bottle of water and the bottle of sun tan lotion, and close the car doors, making sure to lock it with the key fob as I run towards him.
"These days with you are the best," I whisper, looking up at him, squinting against the sun. I can't help but give him a peck on his shoulder before his arm comes around me. And then I'm sandwiched between beach towel and wandering fingers, my favorite place in the world.
"Did you pack enough chocolate covered strawberries?" he murmurs, nuzzling my hair. I can't help but giggle. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," I whisper naughtily into his side.
For the 20 yards or so from the boardwalk to the beach, we walk like that, with him hugging me against his side.
When we get closer to the shoreline, I lay down the beach towel, and we use our small air pump to pump up the small inflatable sunbrella, using the tote to anchor everything down.
Just as I am unpacking the container of grapes from the picnic basket, Rhys' cell phone rings. It's a number I don't recognize.
"Hello," he answers, glancing at me as he waits for the reply on the other end.
The voice on the other side is unmistakably female, and although I know it is probably one of his coworkers at the research laboratory who needs a document for an upcoming conference, I feel a twinge of jealousy.
I pretend to be uninterested, and prop open a book as I start snacking on the grapes.
"Ok, I'll email it to you," he says before relating some details about the experiment. "The co-immunoprecipitation should depend on the antigen binding to the protein, and pH is a modulating factor. Control the pH and it should show up at the correct band on the gel electrophoresis," he says. I am brought back to the days of college biology and drafty lecture halls. He hangs up before I've polished off all the grapes.
"Hey, give me one," he whispers.
"Who was that?" I ask, temporarily caught off-guard by how good his tousled hair looks against the background of sand and ocean waves.
"The lab is just getting ready for a presentation at this annual conference we go to every year. They were hoping to get clearer imaging on one of the results figures. Might result in more R01 funding for next year."
He picks up the bottle of sun tan lotion. "I saw you brought this," he whispers, his eyes light and humorous. "May I?"
"Mmm," I whisper, flipping over onto my stomach and offering him my backside. Even the click of the cap on the sunscreen bottle as he flips it open makes me wiggle slightly. He gently lifts up the bikini strings and light coverup I'm wearing, smoothing a small dollop of sunscreen across my skin. With a light breeze playing through my hair, he gently massages the lotion into my side, and further up. I moan softly as his fingers graze my breasts.
Even though it is still midafternoon, the beach is surprisingly uncrowded for this time of the year. A few beach towels and sunbrellas dot the shore, but aside from that, the beach is fairly empty save for the few seagulls cruising peacefully over the waves.
After a few moments, I can feel his erection against my thigh.
"Do you want to?" he whispers. "Okay," I agree, blushing when I look up to meet his eyes. Double checking the beach landscape around us, the nearest beachgoers are more than 30 yards away from us, and the people taking walks seem to be walking away from us.
It feels so good and so right, and I can't help but groan against the welcome intrusion.
After we are done and my heart rate has returned to normal, he pulls me up. We walk back to the car, with me in a post-coital haze.