A Chastened, FL Tale
My name is Willie, but everybody calls me Slim on account of how skinny I am. I’m a 34 year old Negro, gainfully employed in two occupations. One being song writer. Yes, I’m the guy wrote Come Back to Me, Baby and Hotter than Hot; and the other being Stage Manager at the Chastened Theatre Ensemble, here in downtown Chastened, Florida.
I was born and raised here, never left but the one time to fly out to Los Angeles to collect my Grammy for wrote Come Back to Me, Baby and dip my wick in Monica of Brandy and Monica who had the hit The Boy Is Mine that year.
I made some decent money from my two hits and umpteen misses that I did not piss away---thank you Momma Jackson, the kindly aunt that raised me. Most of it went into a fund that allows me to draw reasonable amounts of cash, which translated into financial jargon means enough to get by on, and not enough to drain the account on wine, women and song.
So I found myself at loose ends this fine afternoon—the Chastened Theatre production of Cabaret was still in rehearsal stages and the director had given everyone the day off with the air-conditioning going down and it being 98° and all. Sheeeit, Hell couldn’t be much hotter than it was on stage and back stage. No one wanted to see a body crumple up with a heart attack, and so Timmy Lunceford, our Director, give us the day off. Timmy’s a fag; has been ever since I known him in middle school. But he’s a good guy and I’ll back him up anytime he might need backing up.
And that’s how I found myself at the local beach with a decent book, a pad to jot down any musical notions passing through my mind while I lolled in the Sun and lovely breeze and a little-bitty lounge chair I stole (or borrowed, depending on whose story you believe.) But I allow as to that Fletcher Martin never having said four words in a row that were truthful is a habitual liar, and a thief, although to my knowledge he never picked my pocket.
So I set up shop in an open area; there was a couple about 20 feet to my right and two young ladies of Oriental persuasion roughly fifteen feet in front of me. A cigar smoking fat man flanked my left side and older, definitely Jewish foursome played pinochle maybe 50 feet away.
Other than the seven or maybe eight heads I could make out bobbing in the ocean, the beach was deserted. I’d walked a half-mile from the highway in my gym shorts and T-shirt to reach it. There was another beach maybe two miles down the road that drew the crowd on account of it butted up against a nudist preserve. Lots of self-declared bird watchers tanned there. I been there. It isn’t worth the watch unless you have a thing for chubby people.
I had a pleasant afternoon sitting in the sun and reading a paperback I’d brought along, titled, The Sun Also Rises, by Hemmingway. I’d arrived around two and it was closing in on four and the beach began to wave goodbye to the sun lovers as they gathered their belongings and trudged off to get ready for whatever their evening held in store for them.
I don’t know about you, but I can only read for so long and then I got to rest my eyes somewhat. So when eye resting time came up, I found myself lookin’ over my toes at the two Oriental girls and caught one of ‘em checking me out.
You know the old saying: One never knows, but then one always knows? It don’t matter if you do or you don’t. I felt it in my bones one of them girls was trying to look up the leg of my shorts just like I’d of tried seeing up her dress if she had one on.
I decided to meet her head on as it were, and without seeming to, hitched up the shorts a good five or six inches, or just enough to let the knob of my hickory colored dick peek out the leg. Sure enough, within a minute one of them noticed and nudged her friend.
They both looked and giggled and looked again, but they quickly lost interest and went back to their conversation.
Well I was baffled. I’d been certain that they’d have found a way to come over and start a conversation with me. I was figuring it was just bad luck, or maybe I was losing my touch when one of the girls stood up.
But instead of coming over to me, she began packing her things, gave the other girl a kiss and a hug and left the beach, headed in the opposite direction from where I lay.
I guess I must have dozed off then because the next thing I know, someone’s shaking my shoulder sayin’, “Mister, hey mister, better you wake up before you get bad sunburn.”
“Huh?” I said groggily.
“Are you awake, finally?” she said. It was the cuter of the two Oriental girls. I scanned her up and down for a second then shook my head to clear it.
“Yeah, yeah sure,” I responded, and then added, “Hey, thanks, I don’t know ... I don’t usually fall asleep like that. I must be awfully tired.”
I didn’t want to go off and leave you lying there, you know?” she said leaning over and giving me a great view of her apple-sized tits, right down to the nipples.
I looked around, the rest of the beach was deserted; it was just me and her. “Where’s your girlfriend?” I asked.
“Oh she left a half-hour ago,” she said. “You were kinda hard to wake up.”
“Yeah, I guess I was,” I answered. “I was dreaming...”
I saw her eyes light up at that and let my voice trail off.
“I um, do some song writing, you know.”
“Oh, cool!” she said. “Any hits!”
“I’ve had a few, I said, exaggerating some, but what the hell, I did have two big money-makers and the Grammy to prove it.
“Would I know any of them?” she asked, and added, “Oh, my name’s Sydnee.”
“Wow, that’s a lovely name ... Sydnee ... maybe I could write about you, ‘Sydnee at the beach, what a dish, what a peach!’ Well it’s a start. You never know.”
She leaned over a little more, now that was deliberate and I knew it just as I knew my knob had inched out a tad more from the leg of my shorts.
“Ever hear Hotter than Hot or Come Back to Me, Baby?”
“YES!” she shrieked. “Hey, you’re not shittin’ me are you?”
“Why would I?”
“Um, I gotta tell you ... I mean, normally I’d say something like your fly’s open, but in this case the horse is out of the stable,” and for emphasis, she pointed to my dick which was out of the stable.
“Ooop’s!” I yelped.
Sydnee giggled when I made it twitch.
“Can you do that again?”
I did it again and hiked my shorts up even more, exposing about a quarter of my nine-incher.
“Whoa, I better get out of here!” she said and started to turn away.
“Hey calm down. You’re responsible for my current condition,” I said accusingly.
“What! You’re sayin’ I got you that way? I never laid a hand on you!”
“I didn’t say you were an active participant.”
Sydnee shrieked again. It was a good thing the beach was deserted except for the two of us. I mean, me being black and her white ... uh, well Oriental which is damn close to white if you ask me.
“But you did make a point of flaunting those lovelies of yours. Admit it, you did, didn’t you?”
She turned back. “You did it first!” she shouted, knowing we were alone. “I bet you deliberately took that—that thing out so we could see it. That—that’s entrapment!”
I started to laugh. I couldn’t help myself.
“Think it’s funny, huh? Well you won’t when I call the cops and have them drag your sorry ass off to jail!”
Still laughing, I managed to say, “But it is funny ... you said my dick entrapped you. Kinda like you wuz walkin’ by and it snared you by your pussy.”
Now Sydnee was laughing too. “Think you’re a funny mother, don’t you?”
“Naw, just a poor song writer sunning himself at the beach.”
We got serious for a moment and I took my best shot. “You enjoyed looking at me though, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah, I guess,” she admitted. “Why not?”
“Well ... have a good look,” I said and took my best friend out of the confining shorts and we both watched as it grew in size.
Sydnee sat down on her hunches in front of me. “You’re carrying a deadly weapon there, Mister.”