by Kris Pearson
Tried not to smile.
His.
They stood wrapped around each other, sharing tender kisses and caresses before he checked his watch. The tide was noticeably on the way out and much more sand was visible than when they’d arrived. Time had flown. The best time ever. She’d driven reality from his brain. Made him forget everything except her, and how good they were together.
He pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin and dropping a kiss on her hair, watching as a lone seabird waddled up and down beside the water’s edge. Several others glided down to join it and the little group pottered to and fro on the shore, running back from the advancing foam, squabbling and flapping, distinctive black heads bobbing as they ran.
“White Fronted Tern,” he said, nudging Anna around so her back was to his front and his half-hard cock pressed against her butt. Almost enough to revive it again. He slipped his arms around her waist and couldn’t resist cupping up her breasts, loving the contrast of his big, tanned hands and her soft, pale skin… enjoying that she was still a little out of breath too.
The salty breeze swirled around them, and a wave ran up the shore and ebbed again as they stood there embracing. “Funny birds,” he added as he smoothed his cheek against her hair. “They have webbed feet, but they almost never swim. Prefer to walk or fly. Ever seen a flock of them diving after a school of fish?”
She smiled up at him. “I’ve seen gannets diving, but I don’t know about those guys.”
“They’re graceful in the air. I should try for a shot of them.”
She laughed. “Now? Do you always carry your camera?”
“Generally have it somewhere close.” He released her breasts with regret and unlatched the van’s cargo door, tugging up his shorts and then stowing the squab away before taking the Nikon from its hiding place. “Job for you,” he added, handing her a muesli bar from his emergency stash. “Break this up, and when I’m ready to shoot, try throwing a few pieces up in the air to get them on the wing.” He swept his gaze down her gorgeous length. “Dare you to do it just as you are.”
Anna peered around the still-deserted beach. “Not if you’re going to photograph me. How stupid do you think I am?”
He used his free hand to smooth her hair back from her face, refusing to feel offended while his system was still flooded with endorphins and she was naked only inches away. “No worries. I’ve got the shot I wanted of you. I showed you last night - the shadowy one on the bed. But you’ve just given me an idea. Go half way to the tide line and raise your arms as though you’re flying. I’d like to try you way in the background with the birds overlaid. If I can line up the curves of their wings and your arms, it could look great.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, grinning nevertheless, and starting to rip the muesli bar packet open.
“Only with your back to me. No tits or pussy.”
She laughed then, but quickly added, “Jason, I’m a judge’s daughter. I can’t do things like that. Even though it might be fun.”
He bent and kissed her shoulder. “I’ll let you watch me put the finished thing together. You can choose the shot and decide how transparent you’d like yourself to be. Just a hot gorgeous ghost flying on the beach with the birds.”
She held up a piece of muesli bar and fed it to him. “You’re serious?”
“Totally. It would look amazing,” he said around the nuts and fruit.
“Hmmm… I really shouldn’t.” She broke off a piece for herself and chewed for a few moments. “Only back on? You’d never see my face? Promise?”
“Scout’s honour.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, dislodging fragments of muesli.
Her eyes widened. “Were you actually a scout?”
He shook his head. “Got me there. Not the sort of thing Trev believed in.”
His father’s derogatory description was still lodged deep in his memory. ‘Dressing up like little soldiers and wasting time’. Time that a scrawny twelve year old could spend after school pushing a construction wheelbarrow, or sorting timber offcuts for firewood, or sweeping up sawdust, or hosing away the mud that got tracked out onto the road. There were dozens of jobs that needed doing on Trev’s sites, and Jason had been ruthlessly pushed into every one of them, with no complaints from his defeated mother.
Anna must have seen something in his expression because she broke up the rest of muesli bar and suddenly sprinted out onto the sand, tossing the pieces high so the birds rose up and dived on them.
Caught unawares, he raised the camera, made what adjustments he could, and took several rapid shots.
CHAPTER 11 – JAM SESSION
“Put it down now,” she called back to him.
“Why?”
“Because I want to turn around. Have you done it?”
She stood there, slim and beautiful, poised on tiptoe, arms outstretched like an ethereal sea-sprite. He couldn’t resist framing her one more time, checking the focus, and taking another shot. “Yep,” he called. “You’re safe to come back.”
She peeked over her shoulder, and he extended his arms as she had, Nikon swinging. Only then did she turn and pick her way back to him, one hand covering her groin and the other across her breasts.
“I’ve already seen those,” he said.
“Yes, but I don’t want any chance of them being photographed.” She slid her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his chest for a few seconds. “You could have another look at them in the shower, though?” she offered, reaching for her clothes with a naughty grin. “I don’t know why I did that. I must be mad.”
He shook his head. “You didn’t give me much time. I need more of the terns, for sure.” He set the camera down. “Get your gear on then, and I’ll break up another couple of bars. We’ll see how we go with another try.”
She was soon surrounded by a wheeling, screaming melee of birds who’d arrived out of nowhere, sensing a free meal.
“Too many of them,” he called. “I can’t get a clear shot.”
Anna threw the final morsels of muesli bar out in two wide arcs. Some of the terns split from the main flock and dived to the left, wings bright in the low sun. She watched as he tracked them with the camera. “Did you get any?”
“Maybe. We’ll have to see. Call it quits for now, eh?” As she walked back across the sand he checked the shots on the screen, scrolling quickly through the birds, but lingering on the ones of her. “Mostly not usable, but a couple of possibilities.”
“And what about me?” Her bright blue eyes had an anxious furrow between them.
“I’ll show you back at the house. Put them up on my big computer screen so you get a decent look. You can’t see much on this, and we need to get going.”
Her expression sharpened. “Are you hiding something?”
“Not in the least, Frosty. But I told the guys six-thirty, and that doesn’t leave much time for our shower.”
She hesitated before she climbed into the van again. “I could look at them while you drive.”
Jason packed the camera away, ensuring there was no chance she’d discover the ‘extra’ shots he’d taken of her in the bedroom the night before. “What you’ll see there won’t bear any resemblance to how I want to show you.” He started the engine. “And you’ll get a much better view at home.” He began the slow crawl back over the bumpy track. “I’ll sort them out for you while you settle in.” He turned and gave her what he hoped was a relaxed grin. “And then you can be suitably horrified, because it looks like I got the focus on the last one pretty damn good.”
She buried her face in her hands and groaned. “You have to promise me to keep this private. Justice Michael Wynn doesn’t need his daughter’s bare backside on the internet. And I’d lose all my credibility as a serious designer. You know how people are with things like this?”
He clenched his jaw for a few seconds, incensed she trusted him so little. She imagined he might do that to her? Expose her in public so vulnerably? Then he swallow
ed and made a conscious effort to relax, reaching across to take her hand in his. “Total promise, Frosty. Never ever. Okay?”
She sat looking straight ahead, and he slowed even further as they reached the main road. “I could send you some of the shots you took of me, as insurance?” he suggested with a raised eyebrow. “Although you wouldn’t want anyone finding them so you had to explain why you had them.”
She gave a reluctant smile. “Can you imagine…? But they don’t show your face, so they’re not exactly ammunition.”
“They show part of the snake. Identifiable.”
She conceded that with a nod. “Not many like him around. But perhaps you’d better not.”
He pulled out onto the road one-handed and picked up speed, glancing at his watch and planning ahead. “Damn - might need to be a pretty quick shower or they’ll catch us in there. Is Chinese okay? Mei brings it from their takeaway. I’ll put in a few bucks for you.”
“So Mei’s one of the ‘guys’?”
“Meifeng Chan from the café by the bridge. She’s Kieran’s girl. Kieran O’Toole.”
Anna snorted. “Sounds like the United Nations.”
“And Athol and Lockie. Sometimes Cam. Not a big group, but it works. We keep each other up to scratch.”
She squeezed his hand. “You play guitar, because you told me last night. What about the others?”
He stifled a smile. “Mei’s on bongos.”
“Oh, very Caribbean! Are you kidding?”
“No, she can get a good beat going with anything. Kieran’s another guitarist. Has his dad’s old banjo, too.”
“Banjo and bongos,” she murmured, shaking her head as he finally turned into his driveway and slowed for the trip between all the flapping flax leaves. “I’m going to enjoy this. Not quite what I was expecting.”
“Ath plays guitar and sometimes brings his mandolin. Lockie blows stuff. Pan pipes, flute…” He braked, and peered around the parking area in front of the house, checking his watch again. “We’re okay. No-one here yet. Fifteen minutes to spare.”
Anna pulled the corners of her mouth down. “You do know I sing mostly classical? I don’t think I’m going to fit in at all.”
“Added variety.” Jason slid out and closed his door. “Don’t worry about it, Frosty,” he said, after opening hers. “No-one’s right or wrong in this group.” He pushed the cargo door aside, grabbed her bag and the camera, and passed them to her. Then he wrestled the big squab out and set off for the house.
Anna closed the van and inspected her surroundings with more interest. She’d been so sleepy when they’d left the night before that not a lot had registered. Now she saw how the land fell away behind the house, and why the windows in the living room opened out level with the treetops. The garage door he’d hastily installed in the side of what he’d said was the main bedroom looked pretty terrible, but if it was only temporary…?
“Where will you build your proper garage?” she asked as she headed over to join him.
He manhandled his load into the house and carried it into the big main room. “Off the side there,” he said, indicating with his chin. “On the lower ground under the kitchen. Could make that larger, and open it out to a deck on the garage roof. It’d get good sun.”
He set the squab down, pushing it into place and retrieving some cushions from the floor to toss on top of it. Then started Bowie’s ‘Let’s Dance’ flowing out of his iPod dock. “What a talent,” he said. “There’ll never be anyone else like him.” He slung the camera around his neck and grabbed her bag and her hand. “Shower now, house plans later,” he added, setting off up the stairs. “Need to get you naked again while I can.”
She grinned, and then sniffed the back of her hand as she followed him. Licked it, and wrinkled her nose. “I seem to be even saltier.”
“Dancing bare-assed on the beach’ll do that,” he said with a smirk, leading her into the room where they’d first made love. “Dump your things. Start the shower going and give me a yell when you’re organised. I’ll get these on the screen for you.”
He took the camera into the other bedroom, transferring only the beach shots, then unplugging the Nikon ready to take it downstairs.
*
“Water’s nice and hot,” Anna called. “But there’s not much room for you.” She heard his laugh and sound of an office chair’s wheels on the timber floor before he arrived in the bathroom.
“Seen through my evil plan so quickly?” he asked, peeling off his shorts and stepping under the shower with her. Water flew in all directions, and she squeezed her eyes shut to avoid being blinded until she could get her face out of the cascade.
She’d been right - there was barely room for two, because he towered over her, and his big shoulders and chest stole most of the space in the glassed enclosure.
“Now I can’t get my arms up to wash my hair,” she complained, after he’d pressed her against the wall and cupped her face up for another of his long, insatiable kisses.
“Good thing mine are already here, then.” He reached for her shampoo and squeezed out a big slurp before setting the bottle down on the shelf and glancing at the label as the fragrance swirled around them in the steamy air. “Coconut and frangipani - I wondered what you smelled of when you fixed my hand.” He slapped the shampoo onto his hair.
“Hey!” she protested.
This close, and wet, he was a total turn-on. The dark strands on his chest lay flat as the water pounded down on him. When he raised both arms, his big biceps swelled, and his pecs lifted. Anna couldn’t resist grabbing the soap and running her slippery hands over as much of his skin as she could reach while he was doing his hair. Around his waist, up over those impressive abs, onto his shoulders, and up to pull his head nearer for another long kiss.
The water rained down on them both, steaming up the shower’s glass surround and isolating them in their own fragrant, private world.
“Your turn, Frosty,” he said, tipping out more shampoo and massaging it into her scalp, strong fingers kneading until bubbles ran down her face and she had to squeeze her eyes shut. Then all she could do was feel… as his big hands wandered down her long hair and, unsurprisingly, over her breasts.
“That wrist doesn’t seem to be holding you back any,” she muttered as his fingers circled her nipples, drawing them out to hard points. He moved against her and cursed. “Not enough room in here to bend down and do what I want. Imagine my mouth on you, Ms Wynn.” He sucked at her shoulder. “Imagine the judge’s daughter being eaten up by the big bad wolf. He definitely intends getting Red Riding Hood into bed the minute he gets rid of his mates.”
Anna groaned, and tipped her head back under the spray to rinse the foam away so she could open her eyes and watch him again. “Does it turn you on, thinking of me as the judge’s daughter? Were you a bad boy who’s trying to get even with the system somehow?”
She saw his lips quirk, and he shook his head.
“I was a disappointingly good boy when I was younger, but I’ve learned a few tricks over the years. I could be quite a bad boy if you wanted? Jiggle around so I can do your back.”
The thought of Jason being a bad boy brought all sorts of enticing possibilities to mind, and she made sure there was plenty of skin contact as she twisted against him. “This is not efficient,” she pointed out. “We’re hardly getting clean at all.”
He laughed as his hands smoothed over her shoulders, down her spine, over her butt in a very friendly manner, and then between her thighs. “Frosty, you’re filthy,” he teased. “You need lots of attention right here.”
Anna took advantage of his preoccupation to do some soapy caressing of her own. “I’m sure this isn’t nearly clean yet,” she said. “In fact it’s getting bigger and probably dirtier. What should I do about that?” She looked over her shoulder at him, enjoying that he’d half closed his eyes.
Then they flew open, and he turned his head. “Bugger!”
Anna heard it too. The noi
sy rumble of a V8 engine, followed by wheels sliding in loose shingle and three toots on a horn.
“That’ll be Ath,” he sighed. “Squeeze into the corner.”
She did her best, eating up the sight of bubbles sliding over taut and tattooed skin as he attempted a rapid rinse under the torrent.
“Better than I was before, anyway,” he said, sniffing an armpit, stepping out, and grabbing a towel. He pushed the bathroom window further open and yelled, “It’s open. I’ll be right down.”
‘Life on Mars’ now floated up the stairs, and she watched as he swayed to it as he dried off. Tall and tanned. Popping with muscles. Strong enough to hold her up easily against the van. She’d been totally at his mercy, and loved it. So much for thinking educated, cultivated men turned her on.
He left the bathroom and returned a minute later in jeans. “Want your back done?”
“Go,” she said, rubbing conditioner into her piled-up hair. “Your friend is waiting.”
A bassy guitar riff floated up from the living area, adding a different dimension to the Bowie number. She stood there, arms high, and wiggled her hips in time with it.
“Don’t tempt me,” he growled, before collecting his camera and thudding off down the stairs.
*
“Anna, this is Athol Townsend. Always known as Ath,” he said, unable to stop himself from laying a hand on her arm. “Anna’s from Wellington,” he added.
She’d changed the pink polo shirt for a silver-grey T, and pulled her towel-dried hair back into a pony tail. His love bites on her neck were now clearly visible, but what the hell. Ath and the others were a different deal from Eric and Brett and Hoolie. They might never see her again - a thought that made his gut clench - but he didn’t mind these guys knowing she was off limits.
Speculation flickered in Ath’s eyes, and Jason’s gut clenched harder. Anna extended her hand and clasped Ath’s. Even that small action made the back of Jason’s neck prickle like he was some damn wolf-pack leader alerted to a challenge.
Jeez, it was only Ath - with his shorts halfway down his bony hips, and his scraggly beard and prison tatts.