Little Black Shift

It is the evening summer sun of August that draws me to the sand and sea. I come late afternoon with a chair, a book and a small carafe of white wine. My name is Susan, about as banal a name as you can have. There is nothing in my family history that should have endowed me with this name. My parents are dead, lovely people who seemed confused by our world. Then, who isn't? I rolled past fifty a few years ago. My children keep in appropriate contact from their locations of choice. My husband is a traveling man. Home every Friday night, gone almost every Sunday evening. We don't worry about money.

The beach I often visit is a small strip of sand against which the Atlantic Ocean sends its endless waters. I like late afternoon as the sun has lost the anger of its heat yet provides a heavy warmth that comforts me. Like a magnet I turn my chair to follow the fall of the sun. I read, talk or text a bit on my cell, nip at the wine and almost always slip into sleep. I wake to see the beach less populated, succumb again and wake to the very few that remain.

One late afternoon I receive a call from my husband, David.

"At the beach," he asks?

"Si!" I reply.

"Been swimming," he asks? I make a shivering sound. Maybe once a year the heat drives me into the surf. Otherwise the sand is my habitat.

"No bathing suit," he asks?

"Just the little black shift."

"Bra?

"No."

"Panties?"

"Yes." I know where he's going.

"Take them off," he suggests.

"Why," I ask?

"Because you like the sun to shine on you."

He's is right, early on I'd lie on the back deck of his apartment naked in the sun. There were a couple of apartments across the way that had piecemeal views of the deck.

"Okay," I agree and wiggle them off slowly making sure no one notices.

"Save some for me, I'll be home on Wednesday.

"Can't promise" I say, as we end the call."

The sun has slid behind the dunes and when I open my eyes the lifeguard chairs are empty, the families home to dinner. Within my gaze is a figure a long way down the beach, two heavy-set women sit behind me near the dune wall and a man at a closer distance. I peak beneath my sunglasses and it takes a moment to recognize that he is masturbating. My bad, my legs are open, my shift high on my thighs. He has a clear look at my cunt. I move as little as possible and call David.

"Hi, what," he answers?

"I fell asleep" I say, "showing off all I have and there is this guy jerking off."

"Is he threatening?"

"No," I answer.

"Play with your pussy," David says.

"What?

"Why not," he responds? "You want to, don't you?" I breathe heavily and end the call.

My voyeur has finished his activity and is walking toward the ocean. My fingers move between my legs and I close my eyes.

Post-orgasm, I slide my panties on and then settle in beneath the sun. When I wake there are only an older couple strolling by the waters edge and two fishermen who have set their pole holders in the sand a short distance away. I gather up my belongings and head home. I am about to drive away when I see a business card tucked beneath my wiper blade. Neat printing on the back of the card reads:

"Thanks for the inspiration. You are lovely. Any chance for another evening together? Here until Friday morning. Please call, Tom."

There was a phone number and a small inset picture of Tom. Not handsome, pleasant looking. I keep looking in the rear view as I drove home. When I got home I checked the area code. Chicago, Illinois.

"I can't suck your dick and tell you what happened. The activities are mutually exclusive." We were on the screened deck at back of the house.

"Did you play with your pussy," he asked?

"Yes," I said, "I already told you. And, no, he didn't watch me.

"Call him," Dave said. I sat up and looked at him.

"You want me to fuck him?"

He firmly and clearly said "yes."

Then asked, "will you fuck him?

"That's what you want, you want me to fuck this guy Tom who jerked off looking at my pussy." Now, I'm angry.

"I want to watch you get fucked."

"I don't think Tom invited you."

"I've got binoculars."

I reach for my phone, punch in the numbers on the card and say "Hi Tom" when he answers. "How about 6 tomorrow evening?

"Great," he says, "I'll meet you on the beach.

"I'm Chloe" I lied.

"Chloe, I like that."

Now I had to remember my name.

I didn't have to worry about dressing for the occasion, my black shift would do.

I called Dave at the office and said "bring home condoms."

"Already have them," he said.

Sometimes you let yourself be pushed into something that you want to do. I went for a manny-petty with my friend Debbie, though I knew that Tom wouldn't be looking at my nails. When she mentioned the chance of afternoon thundershowers, I realized that I didn't want it to rain. I wanted to go to the beach, whatever happened. I must have looked at the clock twenty times. I put on some light makeup and decided on lipstick. Dave loved having his dick sucked with my red lips around him. Maybe Tom would like it. In early afternoon showers came and went leaving a quiet sun.

Our planning was almost military. We'd take two cars. Dave would arrive first. He'd worked at the beach as a college student and knew the maintenance road that ran behind the dunes. After 5pm most workers took off. He said that about fifty yards down the beach from where we customarily sat were two mini-dunes and an open area behind them. That's where I was to guide Tom. I often walked the beachfront and knew the spot.

On my drive along the ocean I recalled an inebriated college evening at my girlfriend Cindy's apartment off-campus. What was that thirty years ago. I was staying over that weekend. I'd been making out with a boyfriend I had at the time, Timmy Dearson. We had gotten to the point where I was about to give him a hand job, when Cindy and her boyfriend, I don't remember his name, came home. Tim needed a ride back to campus and the unremembered boyfriend, I'll call him Steve, offered a ride. Cindy and I finished the a bottle of wine Dave and I had started and I fell asleep on the couch. I'd woken and was making my way to bed when I heard the sounds from Cindy's room that told me they were fucking. About a fifteen minutes later Steve comes into my room naked, I'm masturbating, and he gets into my bed.

Next night with some booze, pot, music and mood lighting we do a threesome in the living room. First time I ever saw a woman use a dildo as Cindy watched Steve fuck me. Then, later, I watched Cindy give him a blow job that went on for ten minutes or more. I recalled being annoyed that Steve was spent while I wanted more.

So even though it's a show for Dave, no big deal. Curiously, I wasn't apprehensive. I made sure that I was a few minutes late. I didn't want to be waiting for him. He was wise enough to have walked down the beach away from the remaining beach-goers. He was sitting cross-leg on the stand and rose when he sensed I was behind him.

He kissed me on the cheek and smiling, said "I'm glad you're here.

"So am I," I replied. "Let's walk a bit further," I said, and walked toward the waters edge.

He carried a rolled blanket beneath one arm and a water bottle in that hand. He offered to carry my beach bag. I declined. He began to tell me how much he loved the beach and ocean, having grown up near New Jersey's beaches.

"I'm a late afternoon and evening beach girl," I offered. "I hide from the mid-day sun."

I danced away from a sudden surge of surf and he reached out to steady me. I moved against him and we kissed. Holding hands we walked along until I pointed out the small dune area Dave had decided upon for our tryst. Behind the dunes he opened a thin, microfiber blanket. I caught one side and we place it on the sand. Nice, I said, referring to the blanket. My company makes them, he said. Kneeling we were hidden from the beachfront. Behind us in the dunes somewhere was Dave.

"Here goes," I announced, pulling my shift off over my head.

I'm naked and smiling and about to perform. He low whistled, pulled off his polo shirt and sitting slid off his shorts.

He lay back on the blanket, his cock stiff. I moved to the side of his body so that Dave could see, took his cock into my right hand and put my mouth onto the tip. He put one hand on my back. For me, his was the largest cock I'd ever touched. I moved my mouth down and up each time trying to take more of him in. He rolled me to my back. His mouth took turns at each breast, I reached to guide him into me. I was excited and wet but still had to negotiate him into me. We made a number of small back and forth motions until he fully entered me.

I gasped and said "God you're big."

We moved slowly together. I waiting for him to quicken his strokes. He didn't and soon I pulled in my breath, clutched at him and orgasm-ed. He kissed my neck keeping the slow rhythm between my legs. A surge of feeling slid across my belly and chest, then I felt my toes tingling. He continued his slow fucking. I thought he isn't cumming.

I whispered "your dick feels so good inside me."

That's the idea," he said. I began to push back onto him and said, "please fuck me harder."

He increased his thrust and after what seemed the longest minute began to breathe heavily through his nose and shudder inside me. Another clutch of orgasm caused me to shake my head. And then we stopped. We just lay there for minutes. He slid out and bent to kiss each of my breasts. We each smiled.

I rolled to my side and he spooned in behind me. I snuggled against the warmth of his body and felt the sun's quiet caress. I drifted off, waking as he began to dress.

"Early plane," he explained. "May I walk you back to your car?"

I shook my head, no. "Might see someone I know."

He covered me with the blanket, kissed my shoulder and said "a keepsake until next time. Umm" was the sound I made. Then he was gone.

The evening seemed languid, the sun dropping behind the sea, laying long golden fingers across the water. I gathered my things, folded the blanket and walked slowly along the water's edge. This may not have been wise, I thought, but it was wonderful. My cell phone played it's music.

"Meet you at home," Dave said. "Thank you. It was amazing to watch you.

Welcome," I answered.

A couple jogged past. A long way down the beach a large family group had gathered on a raft of blankets. The gulls cawed and fought for scraps on the sand. Everything seemed as it once was. Except it wasn't.

I knew that I have to tell Dave how I'd felt about what he'd watched while he fucked me. That was fine. It now seemed small payment for my evening with Tom.

I saw Tom only once more. It was five, maybe six, years later. I was standing on the light rail platform in Chicago. I had come for a business conference. As a train pulled out from an adjacent platform I saw him hurriedly crossing his platform to a connecting train. I made no gesture and in seconds that train pulled away. I just stood there wearing a wistful smile.