Chapter 4

Saturday

I woke up the next morning at oh dark thirty. Kayla met me in the kitchen with coffee. She was wearing sweats to keep warm and I was sure not much else. We took our coffee to the car and I pulled out of a dark driveway onto a dark street and headed for that beach I knew.

Kayla quietly worked on her makeup as I drove and I let her concentrate. She didn’t need much and she didn’t put much on. She had washed her hair the night before and started brushing it out. I had seen her hair down very few times as she liked to keep it in a braided ponytail for athletics. It was fuller than I remembered. When she finished that, I handed her my phone with the gallery opened.

“These are the pictures Playboy shot of Lisa Matthews on the beach.” She looked at each one as I talked. “They picked out of hundreds, maybe thousands of women. They had professional makeup artists, photographers and probably some sort of studio editor that airbrushed her pictures to make each one as perfect as possible. If you met her, you might be disappointed because they put more time and energy into making each shot perfect than she could ever hope to repeat in her daily life. Their magazine, their multi-million-dollar empire, depended on having the absolutely most desirable women, captured at their most alluring, freshest, most beautiful selves.”

After considerable study, she looked at me and smiled. “I get it. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Okay, maybe it is a little. But I want you to see the pictures I take for what they are, the work of an amateur, me. I have a good digital SLR with some outstanding lenses but I take less than a thousand pictures a year. Her photographers probably take that many in a week or less. Lisa Matthews was beautiful and so are you. She simply had a lot of team members to help produce these shots.”

“It will be fun and I’m not going to worry about it. I like her photoshoot and I think it’s nice to have someone else design some nice shots that I can try to copy. Whether they look good or not, I’ll be happy for trying ... and for you being willing. Still nervous?” I nodded and she went back to studying the photos.

I drove to the end of Ashley Avenue and parked. I grabbed my flashlight and camera bag and asked, “Ready?”

“Yes. Where are we?”

“We’re at the north end of faulty beach.”

“Folly. Folly Beach,” she responded. We both laughed and started walking.

I’ve never measured before but I had a good idea that we had a half mile to walk and I told her so. The sand was loose packed and there was a very slight onshore breeze. I checked my watch to see that we had fifteen minutes to sunrise.

“This beach is a good place to watch the sunrise. I’ve come at sunrise four or five times and only seen someone else here once. There wasn’t a batch of cars or motorcycles parked at the end so we might be good. What are you wearing under your sweats,” I asked.

“Birthday suit. Will goosebumps show up?” I laughed.

“Not unless I take an extreme closeup and we wouldn’t need the beach for that.”

We kept walking and as we reached the beach, the sky began to show pink. Thankfully, the breeze was very light, keeping the sand down. As we began to make out features on the horizon, Kayla’s eyes got big.

“You can see for a long way. Is that a lighthouse?”

“It’s the Morris Island Lighthouse. We’ll take a couple of pictures with it in the background but most without.” I tested the light and played with lenses until I picked the one I thought would be best.

“How much lighter does it need to get,” she asked as the pink washed over the sky.

“Almost there. Walk through your poses a couple of times. I don’t want to spend a lot of time with you nude on a public beach.”

She went through her poses with her sweats on and I snapped pictures of her in each one, making adjustments in how I framed the shot or what angle I used. I gave her a couple of tips and suggestions as she took each pose. We had gone through each of the poses twice when I finally had the light I wanted.

“I can shoot with 5.6,” I said.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I can use a relatively wide aperture setting.” She still looked puzzled. “It means I can adjust the camera so you’re in focus and the background is burred or slightly out of focus. I won’t blur the background in all of them but that flexibility is what we want.”

I looked up the beach in both directions and took a long hard look up the path we had just come down. Even if someone was coming it would take them a good ten minutes unless they were on a bike, not unheard of.

“I’m ready when you are. You sure,” I asked and she answered by pulling her sweats off. Her top came off first and she stepped out of her pants and tossed them toward me.

She was glorious. She turned to her first pose and I took 20 or 30 shots, catching slightly different angles and watching her hair get blown into good and bad positions. I coached her when necessary, which wasn’t often. Chin up, big smile, quiet smile, turn toward me ten degrees, pouty smile. A couple of times I wanted her to laugh and hollered, “I have a boner” or “I have a twelve-inch dick” and she responded appropriately. We worked through a dozen poses and I coached her up on her toes a couple of times and once to spread her legs so we could see her wonderful thigh gap everyone talks about. The sun was over the horizon and the golden hour was almost over. We were nearly finished and I could tell she was tired of posing even though we hadn’t been at it for very long.

“It’s kind of chilly,” she announced. I kept shooting.

“Next pose, please.”

“Did you hear me? It’s kind of chilly.”

I held the camera away from my face to talk to her. “I know it is, baby girl. It’s a good thing for two reasons. The first is that we will hurry to do this last pose and be done.”

I started snapping again. Great shots with the lighthouse in it. These were really nice shots.

“What’s the other reason,” she asked.

“Nipple enhancement,” I answered. They were stiff enough to clearly be seen at a distance, even without a telephoto lens. I zoomed in to get her profile from the waist up. Not much background in that shot and her nipples really were stiff. So was I.

“Nice. It’s still chilly. I bet it was warm in California.”

“No talking please. Nice smile. Thank you. Look at me like you want me. Yes. Thank you.”

I continued to shoot and when we had finished, she started dancing. I changed the shutter speed to capture the action and took another 40 or 50 impromptu shots. She turned away from me, bent low at the waist and looked back over her shoulder at me. Long, sculpted legs and a very tight ass. That and a playful smile.

“Is that good,” she hollered at me. I nodded and she ran to me, grabbed her sweats and pulled them back on at breakneck speed. “Do you think they look good,” she asked.

I took her hand and held it to my crotch. She could feel my boner through my Wranglers. “I want to jump your bones right now. I want to show you what kind of animal I can be. These are incredible shots, Kayla.”

She squeezed my pants as though I needed any more encouragement.

“I’m glad. It was a lot to drive out here and everything. And now I’m freezing.”

“What the ride on the motorcycle did for you, these poses did for me. Yikes, I’m glad we didn’t have any company.

I stuffed my camera back in the bag and took a look around to make sure we hadn’t left anything, an old habit. We turned toward the path and I pulled her close to me to warm her up. She might have been cold, but she was damned hot, too.

“As soon as we get to the trail, the dunes will protect us from the wind, some.”

She snuggled as close as she could and still walk with some pace.

“You really think they’re good?”

“The shots are the same shots a Playboy photographer and editor thought were good enough to print in millions of magazines. The time of day was great and the light was perfect. The breeze worked well in your hair. Not too strong but enough to know we were outdoors. And you looked amazing. The photos will show your muscle tone pretty well. Your legs look great, toned, strong. Your ass is perfect and the cold temps helped out just enough. They are awesome shots.”

She smiled a very nice, “Thank you. I’m really glad we didn’t get arrested.”

“No kidding.” I squeezed her.

We reached the path and the breeze eased as predicted. I stopped us and turned her toward me by the shoulders. “These shots simply capture you. You are so incredibly desirable I can’t stand it.”

“Pictures to fantasize by,” she teased.

“Any man who saw these pictures and didn’t get an instant hardon is a flaming homosexual. Any man,” I said, then added, “But I’m the only man that’s going to see them.”

“And you have a hardon.”

“I do indeed.”

Right then we saw a young couple on bicycles riding toward the beach. We looked at them riding toward us and started laughing. I’m sure they wondered why as they passed.

On the ride home I told her that I would crop and adjust color and not much more than that. I told her I could eliminate her tan lines but she insisted they stay. I told her about digital security and how dangerous it could be to even have these, let alone allow someone else to have them. She understood completely. Still, I told her about ex boyfriends and how it could damage her reputation forever. To her credit, she never once complained about my lecture.

When we got back to the house it was just after nine.

“I know Tiffany’s here and that kind of messes up my hopes for the weekend,” she said. “But if there’s some way we can be together again this weekend, even if it’s just for an hour, I’d like that very much.”

“Me too. But right now, Tiffany is hurting and this is a bit of a sanctuary for her. You never know what the day, or weekend, might bring. I promise to take advantage of the opportunity if it arises.”

“If the opportunity arises, so will you,” she said and I groaned.

We entered the house quietly and discovered Tiffany still asleep. Kayla looked at me, eyebrows up, hopefully. I shook my head, a very difficult thing to do. I pulled her close to me so I could whisper.

“I’m going to edit these photos. It will take a while. I will have a hardon the entire time. You aren’t the only one that’s anxious to get into bed.”

She smiled, wickedly. “Speaking of photos, you’ve got some on your phone you need to remember to delete. Besides, you won’t need those anymore.”

She reached down and grabbed my still swollen member as it continued to strain against my jeans. Just as she did, we heard Tiffany holler from the bedroom, “You here, Kay?”

She turned her back to the door and squeezed me. “I want you so bad.”

“I know, girl. I want you too. Take care of your friend,” I said as I batted her hand away and returned to my room so I could replace it with my own. There was no way I could concentrate on editing these photos with that level of discomfort.

I had barely closed the door to my bedroom when someone knocked on it. I popped it back open expecting Kayla but it was Tiffany with gym bag in hand.

“Is there a Planet Fitness anywhere near here?”

“There’s one on Belle Hall, maybe fifteen minutes from here,” I answered, walking with her toward the front door.

“What am I thinking? I’ve got that on my phone.”

“Feel the need to work off some of Thanksgiving dinner?”

“No. I think we did that shopping, yesterday. I have a clinic on Monday and if I don’t get a shoulder workout in today it will be a week without one and that’s death for this pitcher.”

“Ah. Taking Kayla with you?”

“She was up way before me and said one workout a day is enough. Is there anything I need to know before I go? I don’t know what you have planned for the day and I don’t want to mess anything up.”

“Nope. Easy day for me. Maybe grade a few more papers. Leftovers tonight okay with you?”

“Food is fuel. But, seriously, Kayla made an amazing dinner and leftovers are perfect. Your chicken Tandoori was outstanding too.” So that’s what it was.

“Good deal. You know the code, in case the house is empty?”

“No, but I can call.”

“Don’t overdo it,” I cautioned.

She turned to leave and said, “Outwork yesterday.” It seemed like I’d heard that before.

She was barely out the front door when Kayla practically tackled me.

“Danny, you big stud, take me to bed or lose me forever.”

“Show me the way home, hey, wait. I thought you didn’t know guy flicks.”

“I watched a couple with mom. I liked that one. Now, do me right,” she said and pulled her sweat shirt off over her head.

“Don’t you think it would be a good idea to wait until Tiffany clears the driveway?”

“No. Let’s go,” she said pushing me toward the bedroom. I held a finger up, waiting to hear Tiffany’s car start. I couldn’t, but some of these old homes are practically soundproof. I peeked through the curtains in time to see her pull away.

“Alright, she’s...” and that’s all I got out before she was dragging me toward the bedroom.

She had me by my left wrist and was dragging me with both hands. Her butt was stuck out, leading the way to the bedroom, and she was tugging on me like a little kid. Her face was screwed up in a way only teenagers can manage, pouting and pleading at the same time. In the middle of this, I realized how strong she was, as I pretend to resist.

“C’mon, Danny. C’mon.”

I relented and went with her. She was in my bedroom, stepping out of her sweatpants and wiggling her firm butt at me. As soon as I cleared the threshold, she shoved me back onto the bed.

“Up. Skootch up,” she said as she pulled my shoes off. I worked my way up the bed as my shoes hit the floor. “Belt, off. Lift,” she demanded. I lifted my hips and my pants came off taking my boxers with them.

She climbed onto the bed, straddling my legs. “Shirt too. C’mon. Do you want this or not,” she asked, thrusting her pussy forward at me.

I did. My shirt came off and I started to reach for her but she pushed me back.

“I know how,” she said and proceeded to prove it.

She scooted up my body until I could feel her heat. I had been hard since the beginning of the photo shoot, over an hour ago. Painfully hard. She reached down and positioned me at her opening. Dry, I thought. And then she parted the coin slot and eased down. Hot and wet. Very.

She was too anxious to wait and simply slid all the way down onto me.

“That’s where you belong. Right there.” She jiggled a little bit and corrected herself. “Nope. Now, you’re where you’re supposed to be.” She smiled.

She lifted up or down a couple of times and then began a move she had hinted at in the past but not done well. She began something of a belly dance move, undulating her hips forward, then up and back, then down and forward, all the while using her stomach to move just a bit from side to side. Once she got into a rhythm, she closed her eyes and kept at it in a steady, even pace.

It felt glorious and I watched her work. But I thought, a worker furrows his brow, shows concentration and wrinkles. That wasn’t it. Her face looked more like a singer, singing a beautiful melody. Not work at all. Her hair was still down, flowing forward across her shoulders and breasts. I reached up and pushed it back then let my hands slide down her shoulders to cup her breasts, her nipples hard against my palms. I watched the slightest smile cross her face as she continued. She was humming quietly; the melody being played on me.

I watched, enjoyed, tried to thrust up a bit, all the while caressing the fine curve of her breasts and straining to hear what song was on her lips. She ground down hard against me and her eyes opened, looking down at me smiling, now almost fiercely. She’d crossed a line and now picked up the intensity. I mouthed the words, “cum for me” to her and she did.

Her shoulders jerked a bit and she struggled to stay upright as the wave began to overtake her body. She kept the motion and pattern nearly steady, pulsing against me, clutching me into her. Her humming stopped and she let out a soft string of “Oh’s” as she ground down, hard, the climax washing over her. Her shoulders jerked and her arms came forward to support her as she fell onto me. I pulled her tight to me, wrapping her in my arms as she quivered, her erratic breath now against me ear. I thrust up, holding us tightly together, and held it so she could ride it out.

As the last waves washed over her, she sat up and started again. I was so close but thought she might need a few moments before she would be ready again. I put my hands on her hips to hold her steady.

“Don’t move. Just stay still for a minute, or I’ll cum now. Just wait. Just a moment.”

She smiled and nodded, then began humming again. So beautiful. I reached up and pushed her hair back again, this time letting my hands trace the curves of her face. She kissed my fingers and I let my hands run down to her neck and back to her breasts again. I took a couple of deep breaths and judged my ability to hold off. I’d delayed the best that I could and I nodded for her to begin again. I nodded.

As she started her belly dance on me, I let my hands trail down her belly until I could finally slide my thumb against her clit. She leaned back to give me better access. I worked to coax her to her second orgasm, hoping she would cum quickly so I could too. Her pace increased and I thrust up into her, my thumbs now joined at her sex, almost pinching her clit between them, sliding across her quickly. She nodded without looking, letting me know she was on the edge once again.

The first spasm came over her and it was all I could take. My hips came off the bed and I lifted her as I began to pump into her. She smiled as she felt me explode and she joined me, her head coming forward to watch my face as I pumped into her. I held her shoulders, taking her weight for a moment before pulling her down to me again and we shuddered together, each little tremor triggering a reaction in our partner.

“You are so beautiful. What a gift you are to me,” I whispered in her ear. “So very special.” She held me tightly. We lay like that for a few moments, knowing it would likely be our last for the weekend.

Once again, Kayla broke the silence with a question, “Danny, how old were you when you learned how to make love to a woman? How old before you knew? Do you know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean, and I know why you’re asking. Your typical young stud won’t have a clue unless someone coaches them. Maybe, every now and then, someone will learn early but I don’t think that’s very common. When you meet the right young man and decide you want to make love with him, you’re probably going to have to be patient and will probably be disappointed. If it’s the right guy, you’ll be fine with that.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about this if you hadn’t taught me. So, who would teach him?”

“If you’re really fortunate, that would be you.”

We lay together, Kayla on top, just holding each other quietly. She was warm and her young skin felt wonderful to my touch. I ran my hands over her back and across her butt, simply enjoying the moment. I listened to her breathing slow as she relaxed. For a moment, I thought she might have fallen asleep but I gently squeezed her butt and she giggled quietly.

I realized I had no idea how much time had passed since Tiffany left nor how long she would be gone. I twisted my neck into an uncomfortable position so I could see my old-fashioned alarm clock. Tiffany had been gone for nearly 90 minutes. It was time to get showered and dressed or risk discovery.

“Time to get up and showered,” I said.

“Uh uh. Don’t wanna.”

“Tiffany will be back. Any idea how long she usually works out? Shoulders today.”

“How long has she been gone?”

“About 90 minutes.”

“How far away is the gym?”

“Maybe 15 minutes, 30 for the round trip. How much more than an hour does she work on shoulders.”

“Crap,” she said and rolled off me.

I held her hand to slow her down, just a bit. “You didn’t expect this. This was nice. We take what we can get. Be cheerful when she gets back.”

“Got it. Change the focus.” She squeezed my hand and was gone.

I still didn’t know how soon to expect her. I laid out some clothing and let the shower run to warm. I sprayed the bedroom with citrus air freshener and straightened the sheets a little. A quick look around the room told me Kayla had taken everything with her. Everything except the pillowcase full of toys I saw on the closet floor.

Fifteen minutes later I sat at the kitchen table grading papers. Kayla appeared to be taking her sweet time, or else investigating the capacity of my water heater. I’d graded four or five papers when Tiffany knocked on the door. Tiffany home and Kayla still in the shower. I wasn’t sure if Kayla needed more time to get herself together or not. I answered the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Where’s your gear,” I asked.

“I left it in the car. Showered already and don’t plan on working out again so it seemed like a good idea to leave the stink in my trunk.”

“Alright. Let’s go,” I said, shutting the door and walking to my car.

She followed right behind me. “Where we going,” she asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

“You wanted to learn how to drive a stick, right?”

“Are you serious?”

“Why not? Not many people get to learn on a Ferrari, a distinction you’ll always have.”

She seemed pleased. I drove us to a grocery store parking lot. Their lease had expired and the lot was empty. Perfect. It was big enough to make the shift from first to second and back again. I parked and shut the engine off, then explained how a gearbox and clutch worked. She quickly picked up on all of it, including the tach. I showed her the mechanics and she seemed to get a handle on that too.

We switched seats and she adjusted hers back, something that mysteriously stabbed at my ego. With the engine still off, I had her demonstrate the technique until she felt comfortable and, more importantly, I felt comfortable. I checked the lot for traffic and let her crank it up. She grinned at the sound, then revved it a couple of times.

“Should I go?”

“Just remember, if you get in trouble or forget what you’re doing, clutch and brakes. Everything, nice and easy and when you’re ready, go for it.”

She put it in gear and let out the clutch and promptly stalled the engine.

“What happened? What did I do wrong?”

“You have to ease on the gas as you ease off the clutch. Takes more power to go than to idle. Try again.”

After another stall and a couple of jerky starts she got the hang of it. She drove around in first for a while, stopping and starting again until she felt good about it. Then, on to first to second shifts. She worked at it for a half hour. First to second is the toughest shift because it’s an up, over and up movement when you’re at relatively low speed. Once she had that, I had her park and go through the gears again. She saw how easy the rest of the shifting was and we took it out on the highway.

She was practically giddy as we cruised north on Highway 17 toward Georgetown. With such light traffic she was able to get plenty of practice running through the gears as we sped up and slowed down. I think I was having as much fun as she was.

A half hour north of Charleston, we turned right onto Pinkney toward the little shrimping community of McClellanville. It’s a sleepy little hamlet that was ground zero for hurricane Hugo nearly 30 years ago. Much has been rebuilt but the live oak trees have been around for much longer. They reach over the streets of the community, making a drive seem like a light show as you quickly move from full shade to full sun and back again. It’s a beautiful little town that always makes me feel like I’ve entered a time machine and gone back one hundred years. Cars seem out of place and especially little, red sports cars.