Girlfriend of a Surfer

by Bebe Wilde

“Maybe,” she said. “But I like getting laid. And I like it without all the bullshit that comes along with dating.”

  “Well, okay,” I said and my stomach growled.

  “And they last and last, if you know what I mean.”

  “Well, all of them but Beanie,” I said and shrugged.

  She cracked up again. “You gotta stop with this Beanie guy. But it’s true. The ones I’ve known, personally, last a little longer than him. Know what I mean?”

  “I know what you mean,” I said. “You know they’re just thinking about a swell, right? And the rest is just static.”

  “You’re awful!” she said and slapped my arm.

  “It’s true,” I said and gave her a knowing look. “Swear to God.”

  “Oh, who cares what goes on in their minds? It’s their bodies I’m worried about.”

  I cracked up. “You’re calling me awful? That’s awful!”

  “But if you said something like that to one of them, they’d just laugh.”

  “Some of them would, yes,” I said in agreement.

  “But those guys are seriously good,” she said. “They have, like, no hesitancies or something. It’s like they’re free or something. I don’t know what it is. It’s like when they kiss you, they kiss you, you know? They just go for it. It’s just good, okay? It’s seriously good. Why do I keep saying seriously?”

  “I seriously don’t know,” I said and we cracked up.

  “Seriously!” she said and laughed, then stopped and said, “I mean, I’m not ready to get married yet and I might change my mind and want a man with a real job, but right now, I’m having fun.”

  “Well, I’m glad someone is,” I said.

  “But you two love each other,” Quinn said. “You and Bear are meant to be together.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Come on,” she said. “You love him. I know you do.”

  I guess I did. Damn it! “It’s just he’s never going to go anywhere,” I said. “He’s not ever going to amount to anything.”

  “Willa, he already did,” she said. “You’re very flippant about it, but Bear was the biggest thing in surfing. He just peaked early.”

  “When I didn’t know him,” I grumbled. “All that good shit happened before I got here. And all I get is the low rent part.”

  She stared at me. “You have a great house, Willa.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “You live, like, blocks from the water, man. That’s like kind of a big deal.”

  “That’s because the waves are so gnarly, man!” I said, again, taking on the classic surfer dialect.

  She cracked up. “But, no, you can’t break up with him.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Listen,” she said. “Look at the good things. The dude loves you more than life itself and he throws the best parties. And, let’s just say, surfers are good in bed. I mean, excellent in bed.”

  “You’ve already told me that, in so many words.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I get what you’re saying. He’s not perfect. He never will be. Accept that and love the parts of him that you fell in love with in the first place. What you two have is real. Everyone dreams about having that kind of love.”

  She was right. It was real. But still…

  “And you don’t want to just dump him,” she said. “You’re just pissed off about something. Right?”

  She was right.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  I took a deep breath and fessed up, “I guess I’m just pouting because I want that house we just staged in Los Feliz.” And I did. It was so pretty. It was so nice. And I loved the pool. I wanted it so badly I couldn’t stand it. Every once in a while, I’d get like this, ready to move on. But whenever I’d bring moving up to Bear, he’d refuse to even consider it. He loved our house and he wasn’t moving anywhere he couldn’t walk to the beach. And he forbade me to move, too. And he said that once. He said, “I forbid you to move.” To which I answered, “Get lost.”

  “Well, maybe Bear will win the lottery and buy it for you,” Quinn said.

  “Nah, he won’t,” I relied. “He said if he wins the lottery we’re moving to Hawaii. Or to one of those other islands out in the Pacific. I don’t know which one.”

  “Why Hawaii?”

  “It’s got that Pipeline thing, “I said. “You know, that gigantic wave thingie. He says we could go now, that he has a lot of friends there we could crash with but I don’t really like the idea of sleeping on someone’s couch. Bear, of course, wouldn’t mind at all. He’d sleep on the floor or even outside. He wouldn’t care.”

  She and I stared at each other and cracked up at the same time. “Listen,” she said. “He’s a surfer and they have a different mindset than the rest of us and thank God, right? I mean, it takes all kinds. You have to accept that.”

  My stomach growled. I glanced at my watch. It was after two. “Let’s just eat,” I said and opened my door. “I’m really hungry.”

  Taco Night

  After the day was done, I went back home. Well, after I got Bear’s beer and lottery ticket, I did. I wasn’t going to but then decided that it was easier than listening to him complaining that I hadn’t. Once again, Cupcake met me in the driveway and got his love and a treat, then waddled over and lay down on our patio. I smiled at him and went inside.

  “Bear?” I called and took the beer into the kitchen. I put it in the refrigerator, taking a moment to notice that we had a lot of food in there for some reason, then shut the door and went into the living room. There was a big pile of mail on the coffee table. Great. I picked it up—junk, junk, bill, bill. Yea! I threw it back down on the table and looked around. He was nowhere to be seen. “Bear?”

  Nope. He was still out. It was late in the day, therefore the waves were probably down, so who knew what he was doing. I sighed and thought a long soak was in order, so I stripped and then got into my claw footed tub. I sighed with relaxation and looked up at the slightly dripping shower head. That annoyed me but I paid it no heed and got back to relaxation. I was seriously feeling good soaking up some bubbles when Bear came in and smiled at me. He was wet. I guessed he’d been down at the beach swimming or whatever he did when I was at work. Even though the water was probably freezing, it did not stop him from being in it.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said. “You look so sexy right now I can’t stand it.”

  I wanted to ignore him, mainly because I was pissed off at him for not having enough money to buy me that house I wanted. But ignoring a guy like Bear was hard to do. I looked him over. God, he looked hot. He’d just gotten out of the water and was still in his black Speedos briefs, which he’d just recently started wearing. To most, the mere thought of Speedos would invoke the image of an older, perhaps middle-aged burly man in the French Rivera. One with an over-sized gut and a body covered with fur-like hair. But with Bear, they looked hot and I mean hot—sizzlin’ hot! And these weren’t banana hammocks. They were cooler, more streamlined and updated. He wasn’t trying to start a trend by wearing them or anything, but he probably would as I’d seen some other surfers starting to break them out. At first, I’d been like, “Hell, no, you’re not!” But, of course, that had fallen on deaf ears as Bear did what Bear wanted to do. He told me he liked them, as they held his “junk” nicely.

  “Fine, whatever,” I had said, knowing I was wasting my time trying to convince him otherwise.

  When he’d first started wearing the Speedos the previous summer, I went down to the beach to watch him one day—something I did occasionally when I got bored—and all the bathing beauties’ tongues were lagging over him. Believe me, this was not unusual. I was used to it. Then they all started tittering when he did a supreme kickflip. Some even clapped and a few took pictures of him with their phones. He was that good. Even I was impressed. But I didn’t clap. But still, they were so captivated it’s a wonder they hadn’t started throwing their panties
at him. He had came out of the water, board tucked under his arm, looking like a freakin’ Greek god. Even I got turned on and I see that all the time.

  Once he noticed all the hotties lusting after him, he smiled, very pleased with himself, and acknowledged them with a smooth, “Ladies,” then jogged off with so much athletic grace it almost looked staged. Then he saw me, stopped short and, looking a little like the cat that just ate the canary, said hurriedly, “Uh, hey, baby.” I just shook my head at him. To be honest, I knew women really, really liked him. It didn’t bother me that much because the fantasy of a guy like Bear was completely different than the reality. Those chicks would never be able to handle him.

  So, yeah, he was a man that was hard to ignore. But I was still pissed off at him for being so utterly ambitionless. Why couldn’t he…? I glanced over at him again. Oh, man, oh, me, oh, my. I couldn’t hang onto the anger, especially when I saw that he was already hard and the outline of his big penis was prominently displayed through his swimsuit. I guess I really did look “so sexy” he couldn’t stand it. But, of course, he ruined the moment by shaking his head and splashing stinking salt water all over me.

  “Fuck! Bear!” I yelled. “Stop it!”

  He grinned and sat on the edge of the tub and stared at me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked and narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re creeping me out.”

  Without a word, he put his hand in the water and then it came dangerously close to my exposed nipple.

  “Dude, watch yourself,” I said.

  “But you look so sexy.”

  I just stared at him. We both knew he was going to get what he wanted, so what was the point in arguing? But I decided to, anyway. “Please leave me alone,” I said, though I knew he had no intention of doing so. “I’m trying to relax. I’ve had a hard day.”

  “We haven’t had sex in eons.”

  “We had sex this morning before I went to work,” I said. “And we had sex on the couch last night before you fell asleep.”

  “My point exactly,” he said. “That was eons for me.”

  I just stared at him. He stood and took off his Speedos. I watched him and then raised one eyebrow at his erect penis. The man didn’t stop; I’d have to give him that. He was ready all the time. If he wasn’t so damned good in bed, I might have tired of it. But he was good and for that reason, I didn’t complain too much about it.

  Without a word, he climbed into the tub, sending water splashing out the sides. Then he started to kiss me. My mouth opened and he began to suck on my tongue as his hand found my breast and he squeezed it before bending down and sucking at my nipple. I moaned with delight because it felt so good. I grabbed his head and pulled his lips back to mine and we kissed this really long, deep, good kiss, not stopping until my legs parted and he settled between them.

  “Oh, you feel so good,” he moaned in my ear.

  “You do, too,” I said as he began to suck at my throat, sliding his tongue along it as he did so.

  “Get out of the tub,” he said. “I want to go down on you.”

  I obliged and stood up. I was covered in bubbles. He reached over and turned the shower on and took the handheld nozzle and rinsed me off, sliding his hand between my legs as he did so. He kept moving it, then I widened my legs and he slipped the nozzle between them. Then, as the water gurgled between my legs, he began to suck at me down there. He took his time to really explore me with his lips and tongue, all the while holding the water in place, right there on my clit.

  I grabbed onto his head and moaned, “Oh, fuck, that feels so good!”

  And then I came, humping his face until I exploded with orgasm and shuddered with pleasure. Once I was finished, he turned the water off, stood up and grabbed the back of my head, pulling my hair to bend my head back so he could cover his lips with mine. I moaned and slipped my arms around his neck, drawing him in closer to me. He kissed me for a good minute, then turned me around and steered me out of the tub and bent me over the pedestal sink. I grabbed on and he pushed my legs apart. Ahh, I loved this part. His cock was between my legs slowly teasing me before it went inside. Once it was in, he was fucking me hard with no hesitation. Just like that. He grabbed onto my shoulder with one hand for leverage and went as deep inside of me as he could get.

  I was so turned on I couldn’t stand it. I just stood there and got fucked and fucked hard. Then he slapped my ass. I shuddered, loving the stinging sensation. He slapped my ass again and I moaned. Then he slid his hand between my legs and, as he fucked me, I moved against his hand, moved quickly and with concentration and then we both started to come and come hard together. Now he was pounding inside of me and I was pushing against his hand. The orgasm was intense and just so damned good I couldn’t catch my breath, even as it left me.

  He fell against my back and breathed in deeply, then kissed the nape of my neck again. I straightened up and got a good look at myself in the mirror and groaned. My hair was going in every direction it could possibly go and my eye makeup, which I’d forgotten to remove, was streaming down my face. I was a complete mess. Then I cracked up.

  What is it?” he asked.

  “I look like crap,” I said and turned the water back on and got into the tub.

  “You look hot, as usual,” he said and stepped in behind me.

  “Hey, I’m just rinsing off,” I said.

  “So am I,” he replied and slapped my ass.

  “Watch it!”

  “But I slapped it when we were having sex,” he said.

  “That’s different,” I replied.

  “No, it’s not,” he said.

  I didn’t argue and we rinsed each other off then I got out and grabbed a towel. As I dried off, I stared at his body, which was so lean and buff and yummy I couldn’t stand it. Then I thought about what Quinn had said about me loving him. She was right but even so, I couldn’t help but feel some resentment towards him and his lack of ambition. Even after he’d fucked me so good.

  He turned to me and smiled. “It’s taco night. I already bought the stuff.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s taco night,” he said again.

  So that’s what all that food in the refrigerator was for. Even so, I wasn’t up for it. “Oh, hell no, it’s not,” I said and wrapped a towel around my body. “I don’t feel like hanging out with your loser friends.”

  “They’re your loser friends, too.”

  “Call it off, Bear,” I said and turned to leave the room. I paused. “Wait a minute. I had the Beast. How did you get taco stuff?”

  “A friend took me,” he said.

  I stared at him. “Then why did you call me to pick up your beer and lottery ticket?”

  “That was after,” he said. “We went after.”

  “Oh,” I replied and left the room. I went into the tiny bedroom and, as I opened the closet door, it hit a brand new surfboard I hadn’t noticed, which teetered and almost fell. Without thinking, I reached over to grab it, then it smacked me on the head, resulting in immediate pain. “Owwwww!” I yelled and jumped up and down with the pain, holding my head. But it wasn’t just the pain of the surfboard I was feeling; it was the pain of living in a tiny fucking house! I began to feel so frustrated I thought my head would explode. And then I began to feel like I was suffocating, as if the walls of the room were closing in on me. What the hell was that surfboard even doing in here, taking up valuable square footage? Why here? Why not out in the garage where he kept the other ones? The house seemed to get smaller and smaller the longer I lived there. I didn’t know how much longer I could take it.

  I started out of the room and, then, of course, I stubbed my toe on the bed. Now I was really pissed off. I shook with the pain of the stubbed toe, which seemed to make my whole body hurt.

  Bear rushed in and asked me what was wrong.

  I pointed at the bed and yelled, “This room is too small for that big-assed bed!”

  “You
’re the one who wanted a king!” he yelled back.

  “And why did you put that surfboard there?” I asked, pointing at it. “There is no room in this house for surfboards and yet they’re everywhere. Long boards and short boards and fish boards and gun boards and dumb boards and smart boards and happy boards and sad boards and fuck boards and boards, boards, boards! Why is it even in here?”

  “That board company sent it to me,” he said and glanced at it. “And… I don’t know! I just knew I had to put it somewhere and I didn’t feel like going to the garage.”

  I just stared at him. He was always getting surfing swag, always. That’s one reason the house was so overrun with all this crap.

  He sighed. “Sorry. I’ll move it.”

  “Yeah, you do that, Bear,” I said, feeling the pain from my head and from my toe. “You move it.”

  “What is your problem?” he asked.

  “I can’t stand this anymore!” I yelled. “We have to move out of this shoebox!”

  “And go where?” he asked. “And do what?”

  “Move around without bumping into furniture or having surfboards hit me on the head,” I said and suddenly felt tired. I sat down on the bed and stared at him. “Bear, I want to move.”

  “We’re not moving.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I said.

  “What does that mean?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “It means, I will move without you.”

  “No, don’t do that,” he said. “Stay here with me. We’re happy here.”

  “You’re happy here,” I aid. “You’re only a few blocks from the beach. I don’t even like the beach! I hate sand! And the ocean stinks like fish!”

  He gasped as if I’d personally affronted him. His mother should have named him Fish instead of Bear. All he cared about was the fucking water.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I just want more.”

  “That’s the wrong way to look at it.”

  I tried to contain my anger and said, “What’s wrong with wanting more?”

  “What’s wrong with not wanting more?” he answered. “What’s wrong with being satisfied with what you have?”