Chapter 19: Up the Beach

Part III: Red Herring

Of all the means of expression, photography is the only one that fixes forever the precise and transitory instant
- H.C.B.

Montauk. The furthest edge of my universe at that time in my life. The very tip of the known world. The enormous gravitational vortex of my attraction to Heather was centered there. Between was the well-traveled path, a knot of telephone wires, padded envelopes, and monotonous pavement, where hopes were always highest in both directions. Beyond was the infinite sphere of cracked glass, where we cast our intertwined filaments, together.

I stepped out of our car and stretched. The heavy yet fresh weight of the sea air filled my lungs, and the pounding surf filled my ears.

Montauk. At last.

Beth and Hans spilled out from their front door and greeted us. My uncle hefted some of our bags and we all followed him inside. Clearly I was fidgety, because Beth had barely asked my parents how the trip went when she turned to me, and said, “Okay, get out of here! Just be back for dinner, and bring Heather, of course!”

I wasted no time, grabbing my fishing pole and tackle box from the car. As quickly as the cold sand would allow, I covered the distance to the pier. Soon I could see it jutting out into the Atlantic as I rounded the gentle curve of the land, illuminated brightly by the low afternoon sun.

The night before, Heather and I didn’t even talk about where we were going to meet, because it was so obvious. Indeed, there she was, all the way at the end. I reached the foot of the pier and started down it at the same time as she approached me from the ocean-bound side. Soon I dropped my fishing gear and started running.

Damn the length of this pier!

Then, the collision. A collision of bodies, arms, lips, eyes, and spirits. I lifted her and swung her around, recharging my body with the feeling of her, finally so close.

“You’re really here?” she asked at last, when I let her breathe.

“Yeah. Here at last,” I whispered, bracing myself against the torrent of feelings that were rushing through and out of me.

We didn’t even fish. We didn’t even make the end of the pier, instead commandeering the gazebo to retell our recent lives to each other. My fishing gear remained scattered on the boards halfway back to shore. There was nothing to do, except simply be together. The pressures of school, and the band, and everything else melted away as I simply sat, and was.

With her.

At one point, we were sitting cross-legged on the floor under the cupola of the gazebo, facing each other. She was holding my hands, piercing my eyes with hers. We held each other’s gaze for the longest of moments, buoyed by uncountable waves and caressed by hours of sunlight.

Then she smiled, a smile that erased everything I had doubted, and rewrote everything I had forgotten.

We returned to reality as we headed back along the beach to my aunt’s house.

“Do you think we missed dinner?” she asked.

“Doubt it. It’s not even totally dark yet.”

“I guess you’re right. I lost all track of time this afternoon.”

“Even if they ate early, I don’t think I really care.”

Heather squeezed me. “I know! But I just realized I’m a bit hungry, and not just for you.”

“I’m sure there will be something to eat, even if we’re late.”

I was quiet as we approached the house, seeing activity in the kitchen. I was slightly nervous, though unsure why. We set our fishing gear by the side of the house and then took the back stairs, which had gotten a fresh coat of Montauk Grey since our summer visit. On the second stair up, I stopped and turned her toward me. I had to embrace her one last time before temporarily losing her to the chaos of the family dinner.

“You know, I think this is the first time I’ve ever been with you that you didn’t tease me about something,” I whispered.

“Oh really!” she murmured back, the afternoon’s perpetual contentment in her voice giving way to that familiar mischief.

“Yes. Not that I’m expecting it to last, but I just realized that.”

“I’m slacking,” she whispered. “Then again...”

I groaned quietly as her cool hand slid down the back of my jeans and then around to the front.

“ ... we haven’t even gotten to the third step. Plenty of time yet.”

“I wasn’t even meaning that kind of teasing,” I said, glancing up at the lamp-lit windows of Beth’s back porch. Since Heather was using her starboard hand, there wasn’t much danger of anyone seeing anything but our hug, especially in the fading sunset. Still...

“I was too busy looking at you to tease you,” she whispered, moving her hand deliberately.

“That was amazing,” I agreed.

“Mm, very. But, the problem with teasing you,” she hissed, as she pulled me off the steps and back down to the sand, “is that it also teases me.”

I looked up again, hearing laughter from the house. Heather led me around the staircase so that we were standing underneath it, out of sight.

“And I’m in no mood to be teased right now,” she said, barely loud enough for me to hear it. She pushed me back against the house and then sank to her knees in the soft sand before me.

“And I can tell you aren’t in the mood either,” she continued. “And because I’m such a kind Heather...”

There was a long period of silence as I fought the urge to scream out.

“ ... and nice Heather...”

“Oh god!” I hissed. I stared at the empty beach through the slats of the staircase, but my mind was on the exquisite feelings Heather was finally completing within me.

“ ... and non-teasing Heather, I’m going to...”

She then took another extended break from her monologue to swallow me yet again. The energy soon started boiling over in me.

“ ... show you that I...”

I groaned as she brought me to the edge and beyond. She pulled her lips away just in time and looked up at me with a stern expression of warning, as the streams spurted past her. With her eyes locked on mine, she finished her little speech.

“ ... am not a tease.”

Then she giggled as I emptied myself onto the sand under the steps.

“Wow, that was a lot!” she whispered.

“Fuck, that was hot! I think I’m dizzy.”

She stood up, smiling sweetly and wiping a drop of cum that had caught her cheek after all. She left it on the underside of the steps, and then moved to start kicking sand over the globs on the ground while I recovered. She stopped immediately, though, eyeing the area with sudden keenness.

“Hmm,” she murmured, stepping out from under the stairs and slightly away from the house. She was looking toward the last light from the sun, as if sizing up a scene.

“What?”

“Nothing!” She returned and finished kicking the sand over my extended outburst. Then she turned to me, smiling suggestively.

“Okay, now what?” I asked, feeling eager for so much more.

“I’m hungry,” she said simply, emerging from the shelter.

“Wait, you don’t want to... ?”

She winked. “I can wait. You didn’t look like you could, though!”

“No, I could have,” I protested feebly.

“Well, now you don’t have to!”

I followed her up the stairs. A few seconds later we were swallowed into the energetic activity of the family meal. Lara and Heather hugged warmly for a long time, as did Heather and my parents. She was so bright-eyed. I felt my chest tighten as I saw her smiling and talking to my moms, acting like the picture of happy innocence despite the fact she had just finished completely destroying me ten feet below where we were now standing.

“I guess you’re going out with Heather tonight?” Lara asked me, when Heather was using the bathroom after dinner.

I smiled apologetically. “First day, you know. We’ll hang out tomorrow?”

Lara nodded knowingly. “Yeah, yeah. I understand. Have fun.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Read, I guess.”

I made a sad face.

Lara swatted my arm. “Hey, we can’t all live the life of excitement like you.”

“Told you. You should’ve smuggled Pete down here,” I teased. “Then we could’ve all gone out together.”

“Oh, I get it! If Pete was here, then I’m welcome, but without him...”

“No! You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Matt, I’m just kidding. I’m actually looking forward to a calm night. You have fun.”

The bathroom door opened down the hall. Heather soon joined us in my room.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

“I’m leaving you two alone,” Lara said.

“You want to go fishing again?” Heather asked her. “Frej said he’d take us out tomorrow night if we wanted.”

We looked at each other with grins. “Definitely!”

“Cool. I’ll let him know. It’s the only night he can do it, because the weekend is pretty busy with vacationers. It’s also kind of late in the season for most things, but we should be able to get some blackfish and stripers. We’ll go out after Thanksgiving dinner, for a night fish.”

Lara gave Heather a hug. “Awesome. It’s so good to see you. Take care of Matt, okay?”

Heather looked at me and grinned. “I’m working on it,” she said, which elicited a laugh from Lara.

After taking a few minutes to tune up the bikes in my uncle’s garage, Heather and I took off toward town. We were well-bundled in our coats, hats, and gloves to ward off the descending chill. With the addition of my backpack that held my camera bag and tripod, I felt like I was going on an arctic bike trek. In reality, I had offered to take Heather out for dessert, since I was feeling flush from the cash I’d made at Clara’s. It seemed wise to take this luxury before I blew the money on something else, like too much film.

“I need to swing by home,” Heather announced, taking an unexpected turn.

“What for?”

“Just to grab something,” she called over her shoulder.

“Your camera?”

“Maybe!”

Maybe? Yeah right! Of course not.

I swerved and followed her down the new route, knowing it was pointless to press. When we arrived at her house, she propped her bike against the porch rail and bounded inside.

“Should I come in?” I called.

“No, I’ll be out in a minute!”

I kept warm by riding up and down the road. Soon I heard Heather’s front door open and close again and she biked out of the dusk toward me. The moon was thinking about setting, still giving us enough light to easily navigate the roads. I realized the ride back home later would be much more challenging.

“So what did you get?” I asked, unable to see anything in her hands. There was definitely no camera bag on her back, either.

“A prop,” she said.

“Oh. For the photo project?”

“Maybe.”

“I take it you’re not going to tell me what it is?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” she said mysteriously.

I looked at her again. It was obviously invisible in the current duskiness, so I moved along side her and we finished the short ride into the main strip of town. We parked our bikes on an empty rack near the coffee shop, which was luckily still open. In fact, business was quite brisk, perhaps from vacationing New Yorkers arriving and needing a final fix of caffeine before facing packs of noisy relatives. When we stepped into the warm store, we soon removed hats and coats, grinning at the situation.

“This is nice,” Heather said sweetly.

“Yeah. A real date, I guess!”

“Well, one that doesn’t involve fish, at least!”

A few minutes later, we were sharing a table for two with a pair of hot chocolates and an apple pastry to split. I eyed our pile of winter clothing, which now rested on top of my overstuffed bag.

“So what’s the prop?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” she repeated. “Surprised you haven’t seen it yet.”

Another game. I looked at her closely. Earrings? No, she had those on earlier. Her clothes were all still the same as from dinner. I spent a minute looking closely at everything. Her foot touched my leg, sliding unhurriedly up my calf. Her smile turned sultry, but still expectant. I bent over to look under the table.

What?

“Heels?” I exclaimed, dumbfounded, looking for a long moment at the sight of her toes peeking out from a pair of red strappy high heels. Their finery was curtained by the ripped hem of her long jeans, and the sight was unexpectedly odd. It was also terribly arousing, the idea of this cute autumn angel perched on these devilish shoes. I eventually sat up straight again. Her foot continued her rubbing, though a little less urgently now.