Bigfoot Beach

by Kristopher Rufty

  They passed a few vehicles until reaching Blake’s. He opened the passenger door for her. “Get in,” he said.

  Becky dropped into the seat, pulling her legs in just as Blake shut the door. Inside was stifling, making it hard to breathe. The seat was hot against the backs of her legs. But she left the door closed.

  She saw Blake through the window on the other side, hobbling to the driver’s door. It opened and he climbed in. With a groan, he settled down in the seat, then grabbed the door and pulled. It banged shut. The interior filled with the odors of sweat and stale breath like a puppy’s.

  Blake had a hard time catching his breath. Head leaned back, he took several breaths. His arm below the short sleeve of his shirt was soaked and dripping. Sweat clung to his mustache, making it sag on his lip.

  “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay.”

  He closed his mouth, breathed in through his nose and exhaled a heavy breath that rattled his cheeks. Sitting up, he looked at her. And nodded.

  She supposed he was affirming to her that he was better now. He was going to be fine. So, she nodded back.

  Something flitted past the window. Becky saw the elongated hairy arms an instant before the door behind Blake was wrenched away from the car in a groaning crumple of metal. The Bigfoot filled the open space, flinging the door behind him. Becky watched it spin through the air.

  Blake, screaming, didn’t even attempt to grab for his gun. A big brown hand with pruned skin and raggedy fingernails slapped down over Blake’s face. Fingers slipped into his wide screaming mouth. The other hand reached around his throat, fingers gripping Blake’s chin.

  In a simultaneous yank, the head was snapped back and the jaw pulled down. A deep crunch overpowered Blake’s cries. His jaw hung in front of his throat, dangling by webby threads of flesh. His tongue darted, lapping at the air, poking his upper teeth.

  The gnarled hand gave the jaw another pull and tore it all the way down his throat, ripping open two deep ruts in the skin. Blood poured through the gaps, streaming down his collar, drenching his shirt.

  Then he was plucked out of the car and tossed aside.

  Becky, too, had been screaming. Frozen, with her back to the door, her hands slapped the air in front of her as if fighting a swarm of flies.

  The Bigfoot leaned into the car, arms out. It began to roar, but its rage quickly diminished when it saw her. The roar petered off to an almost coo. The deep pitch of its growls rose to a squeaky whine. Tilting its head, the snarling expression dropped away and it seemed to attempt something like a smile. Big bulging teeth appeared.

  And this caused Becky to scream even more.

  Using its hands, the beast patted the air, like an adult trying to comfort a sobbing child. It reached for her.

  Becky pressed herself even tighter against the door. Her screams turned to gasping groans as she moved her face away from the pawing fingers. Her right hand swatted along the door, found the handle and pulled.

  She dropped backwards out of the car and landed on her shoulder. It raked across the sand-sprinkled concrete of the parking area. Pulling her legs out, she rolled onto her stomach and crawled away from the car. The hard ground hurt her knees as she put distance between her and the car.

  Looking over her shoulder, she saw the Bigfoot’s giant head appear above the car. He let out a single grunt as if asking her what her problem was.

  Another scream building in her throat, she turned away from the beast and her eyes landed on a pair of abraded shins. There were ruddy rings around the scratches. Becky, leaning back on her knees, looked up.

  Mackenzie’s wild hair blocked the sun, making her face a twisting grimace of shadow. She raised the jagged rock.

  “Your turn, bitch,” Mackenzie said.

  Becky closed her eyes, preparing for the blow.

  The Bigfoot growled.

  “What?” asked Mackenzie. A few quick stern grunts and Mackenzie sighed. “Why? She’s one of them. She came here to hurt you.” More grunts. “Baby, please…we don’t need her. Remember? It’s already been done.”

  Becky slowly opened her eyes. Mackenzie still stood above her, the rock poised to strike in one hand and the other hand was rubbing her naked belly exposed between the lapels of Styles’s shirt. She was no longer looking at Becky, staring over the top of her head.

  What’s already been done?

  Becky realized both of them were distracted by their little spat, and briefly contemplated making a run for it. But when she heard the heavy pads of the beast’s footsteps behind her, she knew her short moment of opportunity had already passed.

  Looking over her shoulder, Becky saw the Bigfoot standing just a couple short steps away. He was slightly hunched over, caressing his side. Blood trickled between the cracks of his fingers.

  He’s wounded. Looks kind of bad.

  She wondered who’d been the one to hurt it and hoped it was Paul.

  The Bigfoot grunted a few more times, and pointed at Becky. She turned to face Mackenzie and saw the wild woman’s upper lip curl, baring teeth.

  Mackenzie trembled with anger. “You should just let me kill her now!”

  A short, angry grunt.

  Mackenzie’s scowl fell away to worry. She shook her head. “No, baby, no. Don’t say that. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

  How in the hell does she understand him?

  Becky felt dizzy from the insanity on either side of her.

  Mackenzie’s bottom lip puckered out. “You’re hurt, baby. We have to get you patched up.”

  The beast released a soft groan of despair. For a moment, Becky felt bad for it. Then she remembered what it had just done to Blake, what it had done to Lillard and probably everyone else, and was glad it was hurting.

  “There,” said Mackenzie. “We’ll head over there. Looks big enough, we can hold up there for a little bit. Surely they have first-aid supplies.”

  Where?

  Becky turned to see where Mackenzie’s gaze was focused.

  “Oh…God…” Becky muttered.

  Mackenzie was looking at the mayor’s house.

  32

  “You let me win, didn’t you?”

  Megan, standing with the cue beside her like a spear, feigned a gasp. “How could you accuse me of throwing the game?”

  Laughing, Gunner shook his head. “Because I’m not any good at pool. And somehow I annihilated you.”

  “Maybe you just have beginner’s luck?”

  “Highly doubtful,” said Gunner.

  Laughing, Megan leaned her cue against the pool table. All that remained on top were a few solid color balls. She turned around, facing him. The light from the machines blinked across her dusky skin, making her bikini top look like white-painted triangles on the tips of her breasts. The matching shorts were a pale wedge that sprouted a pair of gorgeous legs.

  Gunner put his cue with hers. “Or maybe I had somebody take pity on me because I’m so terrible.”

  Megan laughed. “That’s probably it.”

  “Thought so.”

  “Either way, you won. And what does the winner choose as his prize?”

  Gunner turned to Megan. She stood with a hand on her jutting hip, leg pushed out and foot tapping the floor. He felt a tremor of excitement.

  “My prize?” he asked.

  Megan nodded. “Yep. The winner gets to select a prize, his choice. Whatever he wants.”

  Whatever I want.

  Words flowed through Gunner’s head, so many things he wanted to say. What if he told her he wanted to see her bedroom? Would she think badly of him?

  She said whatever I want.

  And if he did say something like that, and she agreed, what would he think of her afterward?

  I’d think she’s really damn cool!

  But if this was some kind of test…a way for her to judge his character. What he said next could make or break it for their relationship.

  What relationship? We’re not even dating yet. Or are we?<
br />
  Gunner took a trembling breath. “I’ll take another kiss, if that’s one of the prizes.”

  Megan looked relieved. A smile parted her mouth. “Good choice.”

  She walked to him, her breasts slightly jiggling with each step. Pressing against him, her skin felt slick through his shirt. She hugged his neck and pulled him down. His hands slid over her back. Their mouths connected. Her lips were soft and cold, quickly warming as they kissed. She sucked in his bottom lip, ran her tongue over it. Then she was kissing him faster, more eager, as if she couldn’t get the amount of his lips she desired.

  Gunner’s hand slipped down her back, over her rump. And squeezed.

  She gasped in his mouth. He tasted her breaths.

  Walking backward, Megan guided Gunner to the pool table. He put his hands together to form a sling and hoisted her off the floor. Megan let out a small squeal as she swung around. He set her on the rim of the table.

  Her thigh bumped Gunner’s pool cue, sending it against the other and both onto the floor. Laughing, Megan put her hands on his shoulders. “That was fun,” she said. Then she pulled him between her legs. Thighs rubbed him on both sides. They felt soft and velvety against him.

  Gripping the bottom of his shirt, Megan raised it over his face. The shirt blocked his view of her for a moment, then it was gone. Megan slid it down his arms, tossing it over her shoulder. Gunner didn’t see where it landed. He didn’t care, either.

  Oh, wow. This is it!

  Her fingers slipped into the front of his trunks, behind the knotted tie, and pulled him closer. The tips of her fingernails lightly tickled the shaft of his penis. It sent a tingling surge through his hips.

  As Megan kissed him, she reached behind her with the other hand and flung the billiard balls back. Some rolled to the other side, one hit the pocket and fell in, and others didn’t go very far. But she managed to clear a space on the plushy green surface.

  Megan scooted back, dropping over the rise onto the green. Gunner climbed up, following her as she crawled backward.

  We’re going to do it! We’re really going to!

  Gunner couldn’t believe it. He’d never gone this far with a girl before. He’d never had one want to, either. Megan was a completely new experience for him and he was excited and ready to see how far this moment would go.

  Lying on top of her, Gunner kissed her some more. If felt different kissing her in this position, as if he might be crushing her. His wallet felt big and hard in the tight pocket of his trunks. He dug his elbows into the plush top and raised his torso off of her some. He felt the silky material of her bikini rubbing his chest. Her legs were spread and he settled his jutting crotch between them.

  Megan moaned as he pressed against her. She unbuttoned her shorts and pushed down the zipper. Then she lifted her rump enough to run her shorts down her thighs. They seemed to catch there and Gunner helped her pull them all the way down her legs. At her ankles, he pulled them off and tossed them over the table.

  As he studied her smooth pubic mound, she reached behind her neck and untied the strings of her bikini. The patches went limp on her breasts. She slid them off.

  Gunner could hardly swallow. It was hard to breathe as he gazed at her perfect body. Her breasts were large and plump, slightly flattened from lying on her back. Her nipples were like tiny dots on the tips of her breasts.

  “Like what you see?” she asked in a breathless voice.

  Gunner didn’t trust himself to speak, so he nodded.

  Smiling, Megan sat up, widening her legs and reaching through them. Her hand found the string holding his trunks up. His erection poked the netting inside.

  She worked at the knot. Finally, she got it to come undone, then shoved his trunks down his legs. The wallet bounced against him. His penis fell out, bobbing in the air. Megan’s mouth dropped open.

  “Wow,” she said. She looked nervous.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s…big.”

  Gunner smiled. “Really?”

  Megan laughed. “Don’t tell me you had no idea.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “It is…wait…” She looked up at him with those huge sapphire eyes. “Is this…your first time?”

  Gunner wanted to lie and say it wasn’t, but he imagined his performance would give him away. Though what few friends he had back home had been having sex since they were fourteen, Gunner had never gotten the opportunity. When his dad’s popularity was at its peak, there were many girls he could have gotten with, but they were usually the kind he knew to steer clear of. And if they weren’t in that category, it wasn’t Gunner who made them want him, it was his dad.

  Instead of lying to her, Gunner nodded.

  Megan’s smile dropped away. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Her eyes twitched. Filled with moisture. Her jaw trembled.

  Is she going to cry?

  “Maybe we shouldn’t,” she said.

  “I have a condom, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Gunner regretted the words the moment he spoke them. She looked at him from one eye, her eyebrow arched. “You do, huh?”

  “Yeah, I mean…” He shrugged. “I’ve had it since I was fifteen, but…”

  Megan laughed. “Doubt it’s any good by now.” Her lip trembled. She bit down on it to hold it still. “I’m sorry…I’m making it move too fast. Your first time…we should…I don’t know.”

  Though disappointment streaked through him, Gunner nodded. “If that’s what you want, we can wait.”

  “Obviously, it’s not what I want. Look at me.”

  Gunner did. He’d never seen somebody so beautiful. Even more so than Trish and that was saying a lot.

  “I more than want to,” she said. “I don’t want you to think I’m a slut. I want you to talk to me again afterward.”

  “I will,” he said.

  “Oh, sure,” said Megan, shaking her head. She smiled, though it was without merit.

  No! Don’t upset her, for the love of God!

  Gunner could feel his erection softening, sliding down his thigh.

  He looked her in the eyes. “I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he said. “You’d probably get sick of me way before I even thought about getting sick of you.”

  Her eyebrows lifted, mouth contorting into a goofy grin. “I like you, Gunner.”

  “I like you, too.”

  “And I’m serious when I say that I’ve never liked anybody as quickly as I did with you. I don’t know what it is…but you just…” She shook her head.

  “I feel the same way. It was instant for me. The first time I heard you speak, you had me forever.”

  She looked up at him with her earthy eyes, said “Come here,” and laid back.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  “Very sure. Just don’t hate me when it’s over…”

  There was no teasing in her voice. She really seemed to worry Gunner was just using her.

  “I promise I won’t.”

  Gunner crawled over her, felt her legs hug around his back. Reaching down, he found his penis and held it as he aimed it between her legs. Megan tensed up, preparing herself. “Should I put on the condom…”

  She shook her head. “Just put it in me…now.”

  Gunner started to push in. He felt her spread around him, the walls of her heat tight and slippery.

  Bells chimed through the house.

  Gunner sat up in a flash, banging the back of his head on something hard. Gasping, Megan reached out to him, trying to grab him as he started to tilt. Light danced across her naked body, glinting off the smudges of sweat on her skin. He let out a Yaaah! before toppling over the edge of the pool table.

  He seemed to fall for a long time before his shoulders slammed the floor. His legs swung over and came down next. They hit in front of him, extended, feet out. Rolling onto his back, he gazed up. A bar light, hanging from a bronze-colored chain, trembled and swayed above the pool t
able.

  Was that there this whole time?

  Megan’s head appeared over the lip of the pool table. Lemon-colored hair hung in her face. She looked concerned. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he muttered.

  She started to laugh, but quickly stopped. “Sorry…I don’t mean to laugh.” Apparently admitting this was even funnier to her, for she exploded with laughter. Shaking her head, she put a hand over her mouth. She held up a finger. “Hold on…”

  “Yuck it up…”

  Still laughing, Megan swung her legs around and let them dangle from the pool table. Her breasts shook with her laughter.

  Gunner groaned. “What was that noise?”

  His question seemed to kill her amusement. “Oh, shit…I almost forgot. That was the doorbell.”

  Fear seized Gunner’s insides. He felt the solidity vacate his penis. “It was?”

  The chimes clamored throughout the house again, a melody of bells in different pitches.

  “Damn,” said Megan. She began to look around.

  Sitting up, Gunner felt pain in his shoulders. As he rubbed the left one, he spotted Megan’s shorts on the floor by his feet. He assumed that was what she was looking for.

  He grabbed them, held them up to her. “Here.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Just when it was getting good.” She smiled coyly.

  “Yeah,” he said, feeling a smile of his own.

  “Maybe we can get back to it in a few. See who’s here.”

  “Expecting anyone?” He grabbed his shorts and pulled them to him. Spreading them wide, he stuck his feet in.

  “Nobody. Other than you. My brothers are working at the restaurant all day, and Dad is off on some excursion, said he’d be home late. But none of them would ring the doorbell…”

  A hint of dread began to build in Gunner’s chest. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want her answering the door.

  “Maybe you should ignore it,” he said.

  Sticking her head through the hoop of her bikini, she paused before tying it behind her back. She seemed to consider Gunner’s suggestion. Then she shook her head. “I can’t. Could be somebody dropping off something for Dad. If I don’t answer it, I’ll catch hell.” She tied the top.