Zuma Beach

I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. The little hand, the one that counted read "ten". So it's ten o'clock, too late for breakfast, but not too late to take a shower and pack a lunch and drive to Zuma Beach to bake in the sun before work.

There are nice beaches in Venice, I learned to surf there. I'm into working out so it's fun watching the bodybuilders work out at Muscle Beach. Today I want to go to Malibu. I ought to get in touch with my surfing instructor for another lesson, but I don't feel like covering up with a wetsuit. I want to feel the sun on my skin.

I took a quick shower and tied my hair in a ponytail. I pack a lunch and a thermos of lemonade and a couple of bottles of cold water. I shoved everything, plus an old quilt, into the trunk of my Celica and headed to the beach to kill some time before I had to come home and get ready for work.

Zuma Beach is the biggest and most popular on the coast. Nice wide beach, surfing if you like, and just an all-around pleasant place to kill time. I'm still learning to surf. I've done a little here but mostly I come to be alone and avoid the people I have to be nice to. I've got too much on my mind. Rick and my relationship with him are dominating my thoughts. On one hand, I can't really believe that I'm with him, and on the other, I am deliriously happy. I want this relationship to happen very much.

I'm sitting in the half chair I have so I can read and sunbathe at the same time. I am thoroughly enjoying being alone with my thoughts when I look up to see a stranger standing next to my blanket.

"Hey, didn't I see you at the party at the studio a couple of weeks ago?"

I take off my sunglasses to get a better look at him, then replace them. He's blond, not bad looking, kind of borderline attractive that saves his looks. I honestly don't remember him, there were a lot of people at the party, but he claims to remember me. Did I talk to him? I don't think so, I only had enough alcohol to give me a little buzz since I'm not a fan of getting drunk.

My mother's voice is speaking to me in my head. "Here's a perfectly acceptable young man, he's interested in you. He's not married or cohabiting. You'd be better off with him than..."

I switch the "mom button" off before it can go any further. Any of these guys might have girlfriends and there's no guarantee he doesn't have a coke habit.

I want to get rid of him without being rude so I ask him, "I'm really sorry, but I don't recall seeing you. Are you a musician?"

He laughs, a nice laugh if I was interested, "No, I'm an engineer. I hope to be a producer someday." He sticks out his hand and says, "Billy Wilkins and you're?"

I hold out my hand and give him my first name, just my first name. I don't want him looking up my number. I get my phone service free but part of the bargain is you don't get an unlisted number. That's okay, I really don't have to hide from anyone.

I've only had an hour at the beach but Mr. Billy the engineer shows no sign of leaving, which means I have to. I'm not interested in talking and I hope his story about working at the studio is a lie. Rick's suggested that I come down to the studio sometime and it would be awkward if Billy Wilkins showed up.

I start to gather my stuff up.

"Do you have to leave?"

"Yes," I reply as sweetly as I can. "I've got to go home and take a shower before I go to work."

"Oh, do you work evenings?"

I nod and finish packing up. I don't want to talk to him but mutter something as I grab my keys and start to head towards the parking lot.

"Hey, can I help?" he asks but I wave him away. He wants my number, he wants to ask me out but no way. I make as graceful a retreat to my car as I can.

If Billy Wilkins really works at the studio that is not a good thing. I don't know how Rick plans to deal with people finding out about us, especially someone who's tried to hit on me. I know if I do see Rick and I run into Billy Wilkins it is going to be awkward.

I drove home faster than I should have, but my Celica is sporty and likes to go fast, especially if I'm upset. I threw my uneaten lunch in the refrigerator and stripped off my bikini and took a shower. When I stepped out I noticed that my skin looked a little browner so I didn't feel so bad about missing my tanning time.

Gina is a late riser but I call her anyway and reached her answering machine—which I expected. I told her I had a craving for margaritas and enchiladas from Senor Sombrero's and could she please call me back because I needed to talk.

Fortunately, this was one of those days when she was awake before three in the afternoon. Senor's sounded great as long as we didn't have too many margaritas before work. And what did I need to talk about anyway?

"I'll tell you at lunch," I told her, "It's one of those conversations you want to have face to face, not over the phone—okay?"

"All right, sweetie, I'll see you at Senor Hat's at two. I'm dying to find out if you've heard from your musician yet."

"Bye," I said, tempted to slam down the phone. He wasn't mine, he wouldn't ever be, I'd be lucky just to have him whenever and wherever I could.

I put on a pale yellow t-shirt and jeans—the air conditioning at work tends to work a little too well. I raise the convertible top on my little Celica because the air will be cool on the drive home tonight.

Gina is waiting for me at the restaurant. It's small and friendly and Irad, the owner, always greets his customers and never forgets a face. He's also a little too friendly but not overly so. He puts his hand on the back of my waist and guides me to the table where Gina is sipping a margarita. He promises to bring me one and hands me a menu.

"What's the big emergency?" asks Gina,

"I was at the beach today and this guy tries to hit on me."

"And what's so unusual about that?"

"He says he remembers me from the party—and I don't remember him. We didn't get fucked up so I think I'd remember talking to him."

"Did he say that he talked to you?" Gina looks at me as she takes another sip.

"No, but he says he's an engineer at the studio, which means he's going to see Rick and me together."

"Oh, Rick wants you to come and see him when he's supposed to be working? That's kind of sweet, he wants to show you off."

I choose to ignore that. "And then Mr. Billy Wilkins is going to see me with him. It makes me kind of uncomfortable, especially after he tried to pick me up."

"Ah, that will be a bit awkward but I'm sure once he sees you with Rick he'll leave you alone. You couldn't very well say something about it but it will be all right. Now, drink your margarita and let's have lunch. We have another fun night at Cal Tel to look forward to."

I'd been home from work for about two hours when I heard the knock at my door. I checked the peephole to see who it was but someone had their hand over it. I opened the door and Rick stood there grinning, a bottle of something in a bag in one hand and his free arm soon around me. He locked the door behind him then set the bottle down.

He put his arms around my waist and lifted me up. "How's my favorite girl?" he asked before he started kissing me. He carried me to the bedroom and laid me on the bed.

I opened my mouth to try to tell him about my encounter on the beach but he put a finger on my lips. "Only sighs and moans are allowed from you tonight," he says as he strips off my jeans and t-shirt. He pushed my hands away when I tried to help him with his. "Nope, I'm in charge tonight. We're going to play a little game called 'Do whatever Rick wants.'"

I laughed, I couldn't help myself but soon my laughter turns to the sighs and moans I am allowed. How in the world did he get so good at sex? Between his mouth on my nipples, his hands on my belly and thighs then into the more intimate places I turn to jelly. He played me as skillfully as he played his bass. I thought I'd never experience an orgasm no matter how many guys I'd been with but he plucks them from me effortlessly. If I fell in love with him, really fell in love, this is where it would start.

When we finished we both were tired. He kissed me and got up then came back into the room carrying a bottle of cognac and two glasses.

"You've earned this," he said and poured me the first glass. It went down with that smoothness that only a good brand like Hennessey or Courvoisier has.

It's been on my mind, fortunately not during our lovemaking, but I have to ask him about Billy Wilkins.

"Can I ask you something?" I say hesitantly.

"Sure, you can ask me anything that you like and if I can I'll answer.

I snuggle next to him. "Is there an engineer at the studio named Billy Wilkins?"

"Yes, he's worked with us for a while. Why?"

"Well, I was sunbathing at Zuma Beach today and he tried to hit on me. He said he'd seen me at the party."

"You didn't mention you were with me, did you?"

"No, of course not, why would you even ask me that?"

"I'm sorry," he put his arm around me and pulled me closer. "I'm sorry I said that to you. He's bound to see you at the studio sometime and it's going to be pretty obvious who you're with."

"Yeah, I got a little freaked myself. He was pretty surprised when I wasn't interested."

"Don't worry about him or anyone who works there. You already know we're in kind of an awkward position. Don't worry, I'll look out for you, I promise."

I hope so, I thought. I don't want to get caught between you and your girlfriend. I'll wind up the loser.