Breezy Beach Rendezvous

by Matt Triewly

Preface

What's real? What's not?


He found himself standing on the beach. He was naked yet curiously he experienced no shame or embarrassment and he was at the shore's edge impassively observing the wavelets break relentlessly upon the rippled sand.

The sea was green, the sky was blue and the sand yellow. It was like a child's crayon drawing - primary colours in a primary world.

He had alternately swum and sun bathed here many times in the past. It was his home town, the town of his birth and childhood. Something suddenly came to mind that he thought he had long forgotten…

He was fourteen again and lying on a towel spread over the powdery sand. His eyes were closed as he had felt the sun's rays warm the flesh of his chest and torso. He had thought of his body changing, changing from boy to man.

A part of him had sought to become a man, he craved the power a grown man had. Yet another part of him had sought to remain a child.

He had lazily opened his eyes and cast a glance down at the golden tan of his tummy. It was a part of him that was still soft - and feminine. He liked that, to be the female he wished to possess.

His gaze had slid further down to his strong legs, masculine limbs now hairy and he had felt reassured by the sight of them - they were the legs of a man destined to be rarely bested…

“Contradiction, conflict, paradox, oh, the delicious irony of existence, darling.”

The honeyed voice had startled him and he had twisted round but only the breeze was there.

“I will always be behind you - and never seen,” she teased.

He felt her lips, lips composed only of a gust of sea air, kiss him tenderly upon the nape of his neck.

“I am going to give you what you so thirst for, and deserve.”

She ran her ethereal fingers across his nipples and he surrendered to her intangible embrace.

“What is it that I so desire?”

“To be a woman, but blessed with a man's yearnings.”

“How do you know this? I have told no one.”

“Have you not guessed yet my sweet?”

He imagined her pouting her lips.

Yes, it was all coming back to him. Him diving into the river to rescue the lad on the bike who had taken a tumble by the bank and fallen in.

“I'm drowning, and this is all some sort of hallucination or illusion brought on by oxygen starvation. I'm at the bottom of the river—“

“Not quite dead dear, but close, which is why you are here with me and I'm your friend. Call me Luci.”

“I get it. Hal-LUCI-nation, LUCI-d dream, LUCI-fer. So, you're just an illusion, Luci, the body making my death a comfortable death.”

“An illusion is just an extinct reality, is it not Douglas? Surely you have guessed who I really am now?”

“You're God - and a woman.”

“Exactly right, honey.”

He opted to play along, he had no other option.

“That's okay, you play me along,” she responded patronisingly, reading his thoughts.

He stared out to sea and fixed his gaze upon the distant coast of the mainland. He did indeed feel tranquil. Dying wasn't so bad after all.

Her invisible fingers caressed his thighs. Aroused him.

He waited for the last few seconds and anticipated the curtain of descending darkness as his awareness ebbed away.

“The boy is going to live, you saved him. Just thought I'd let you know.”

“Luci, I have some questions for you.”

“I'm sorry but there isn't time.”

She pressed her soft lips against his…

*

Greg removed his mouth from Douglas's. It was the first time he had been called upon to utilise his resuscitation training.

“He's gone. I did my best,” he explained to the small throng of onlookers on the bank.

Greg gently pulled the eyelids of the corpse down, the cold gaze into infinity chilled him, and reached across to pick up the coat he would place over his face.

“The boy's fine though a little shaken up, and cold. He would have died had he not dived in. He gave up his life…” Greg’s colleague explained to the small crowd.

“He may have suffered a heart attack, I don't think he drowned though he had water in his lungs.” Greg talked distractedly over his colleague from River Front Auto Services before noticing a young, and rather attractive, dark haired woman hurry along the walkway. In the distance the banshee wail of the ambulance sirens drew ever nearer…

*

Maria slotted the key into the lock of her door, pushed it open and entered her flat which had been converted tastefully into luxury apartments, Holland Mill House, from an old warehouse overlooking the river.

On the mat was an envelope with the single word scrawled on it in black biro: Maria. She picked it up and then placed it down on the small table in her small hallway. More correspondence from the Residents' Association she suspected.

She slipped off her expensive Italian leather handbag and removed her coat with the image still fresh in her mind of the rather disturbing incident on the river path a few minutes earlier in which it had looked like a man had died whilst rescuing a young lad from drowning. She recalled the drenched and shivering boy, with a coat draped over him, sitting on the grass with his knees folded into his body. He had appeared only to be shaken but not hurt and she was relieved by that, relieved for those that loved him.

The man, in tragic contrast, of whom she only stole a brief glimpse as she had hurried by, looked as though he was indeed dead - glassy eyed and slack jawed, such that his mouth gaped open. He was middle-aged and overweight.

The macabre tableau had quite shocked her and she was looking forward to talking about it later, talking it out of her system with her gay partner, Jayne, of four years whom she loved deeply.

She entered her kitchen and realised she wasn't that hungry yet, it wasn't quite half five, so she emptied her shopping bag, placing the perishables in the fridge-freezer and the rest in the cupboards. Anxious to get out of her work garb Maria ambled out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.

She paused in front of the full length mirror and then stripped completely naked, she liked what she saw, and was mildly and guiltily excited by it too.

Reflected back in the soft bedroom light was a slender female of five foot seven inches, tall for a woman, with wavy raven hair tumbling onto bronzed shoulders. Her round face was pretty with large brown eyes, a small nose and full lips. Jayne had remarked once, whilst they were watching an early film in the Pink Panther series that she thought she half resembled the actress Claudia Cardinale.

Her breasts were of modest size but firm and her dark nipples were quite prominent and sensitive, though she occasionally relished them being lashed with a small flogger. Her arms were long and quite toned probably from carrying books around all day in her job as manager in a bookstore and she noted the just perceptible shadow created by the fuzz of tiny black hairs on her forearms. Her tummy was tidy and the neat slit of her close shaven cunt quite visible. Her legs were long and shapely.

Maria felt that her skin and complexion was good - she developed a deep tan during the summer months which only faded very gradually through the cooler ones. She suffered from very few imperfections - a small mole on her upper right arm and a slightly larger mole on the mound of her left breast. But that was it really.

Not bad for thirty four, she concluded with some self-satisfaction.

Maria, still nude, moved over to the bed and flopped down onto it. Head on the large lemon coloured pillow, hands behind her head, and eyes unfocused, Maria replayed in her mind the last time Jayne had beaten without mercy her unclad body on this very bed just ten days ago.....

“Hands by your side and head down…. NOW!” Jayne barked in her South London accent.

Marie immediately complied like a trooper on the drill ground yet couldn't resist sneaking a glance at Jayne in her leather boots, shiny leather micro skirt with leather cap atop her flaxen haired head.

“You will receive twenty strokes with the paddle, twenty strokes with the cane and twenty strokes with the cat. Get onto the bed and assume the correct position for your punishment.”

Meekly, Maria clambered onto the mattress, knelt down and then rested her forearms on the covers allowing her head to sink down in an attitude of resignation.

She heard Jayne pick up the paddle, imagined her weighing it in her right hand, visualised her more than ample breasts, her fair complexion with light freckles dusted upon her arms and shoulders. She saw her pretty face with arctic blue eyes, thin but strong lips and straight nose—

The heavy blow of the leather paddle rocked her nude frame simultaneously as the pain spread like fire across her left buttock. She gasped and clenched her teeth - the first one was always the worst. Till the second one.

The sound of the impact reverberated around the room and she let out a small gasp, yet already her cunt was flowing with juice.

Blow after blow landed on her reddening cheeks, and each one only served to deepen her submission to Jayne, to worship her…

The last cruel cuts of the cane broke her skin, she could feel it yet she asked for no let-up, and the last phase of her beating with the flogger was nearly upon her.

She discerned Jayne place the cane on the glass top of the bedside table.

“Lie flat on the bed with your limbs spread out.”

Though her posterior still burned she obeyed without question. Limp, she allowed Jayne to cuff her wrists and ankles to the bronze frame of the bed. She knew it would be hell.

She heard the momentary swish of the leather tails a split second before what felt like a thousand blades callously bite into the tenderised flesh of her buttocks. She began to sob - and she still had to suffer nineteen more…

Finally it was over and her body was awash with a mind blowing cocktail of endorphin and hormones.

“FUCKING FUCK ME JAYNE!” she screamed.

Still restrained, Jayne, with the help of a double headed strap on, penetrated simultaneously her cunt and anus. Within seconds she cried out as her body arched and her cunt squirted.

“MY GOD JAYNE, I LOVE YOU…”

The last spasms of her orgasm faded away - she hadn't intended to pleasure herself as she wanted to save herself for Jayne. And where was Jayne she would have normally texted by now. She glanced across at the bedside clock - seven o'clock.

Actually it wouldn't matter if she was a little late as it would give her time to prepare a meal as she felt hungry now. She slid off the bed and wrapped her robe around her before crossing the hall and noticing the envelope.

I suppose I'd better see what it's about.

As she slid her finger along the envelope to open it she thought of the man who had drowned - and how tragically unlucky some people were. She realised in contrast how lucky she was to have Jayne, Jayne who wasn't just kinky but was kind and generous, and funny. What would she do without her?

Maria pulled out the note, unfolded it and read:

Dearest Maria, I am so very sorry that it all has to end this way, I know how much you love me and how heartbroken you will be, but the truth is that I have never loved you and never will. I only wish I could.

This is the hard bit, I didn't know whether to tell you or not, I have met someone else and I think I could fall in love with them. Time will tell. We only live once and everybody deserves at least one shot at love. Please try to understand.

Don't get me wrong Maria we had some great times but underneath I always felt something was missing. I don't know why because you are great looking with a fantastic figure and good company too. I really admire your talent for drawing and painting. You should do more!

Maria, please don't try to contact me, it will be less painful that way. I have left Marketport for ever, left the job and vacated my room. I have told no one where I have gone, not even my family, and changed my mobile number.

Once again, I am very sorry Maria. I will never forget you and the good times we had. In time you will move on yourself.

Thinking of You

Jayne xxx

Ashen and shaking, Maria's arms dropped to her sides. The letter slipped out of her fingers and like a mortally injured butterfly fluttered to the floor…

*

She screwed the tap off - there was more than enough water now. It was two in the morning and she would not live to see the sun rise for another day. There was no point in carrying on - she was gone, gone for good…

I have never loved you and never will…

I have never loved you and never will…

I have never loved you and never will…

She had rushed round earlier to The White Castle Hotel where she had lived and worked for the last five years. The manager did not know where she had gone - she had collected all her belongings, ordered a taxi at nine this morning, and then just left.  Her mobile wouldn't even connect to Jayne’s voicemail. She had gone, gone for good - Who’s good?

She watched a tear drop into the water of the bath, watched the ripple expand out. She felt woozy from the sleeping tablets - she couldn't delay any more.

Naked, she stepped carefully into the bath and lowered herself down. The water level remained below the sides.

She submerged her pretty face and with an incredible act of will, in defiance of nature, breathed in a lung's full of warm water. She coughed violently and her body fought to expel the water. It wasn't easy dying…

*

Douglas spluttered and vomited.

“Fucking hell, he's alive!” Greg shouted triumphantly and tossing the coat away he was going to cover his face with.

Douglas rolled over onto his side and vomited again spewing bile and muddy river water onto the grass.

“What the fuck is going on?!”

*

Maria slotted the key into the lock of her door, pushed it open and entered her flat which had been converted tastefully into luxury apartments, Holland Mill House, from an old warehouse overlooking the river.

On the mat was an envelope with the single word scrawled on it in black biro: Maria. She picked it up and then placed it down on the small table in her small hallway. More correspondence from the Residents' Association she suspected.

She slipped off her expensive Italian leather handbag and removed her coat with the image still fresh in her mind of the rather disturbing incident on the river path a few minutes earlier in which it had looked like a man had died whilst rescuing a young lad from drowning. She recalled the drenched and shivering boy, with a coat draped over him, sitting on the grass with his knees folded into his body. He had appeared only to be shaken but not hurt and she was relieved by that, relieved for those that loved him.

The man, in tragic contrast, of whom she only stole a brief glimpse as she had hurried by, looked as though he was indeed dead - glassy eyed and slack jawed, such that his mouth gaped open. He was middle aged and overweight. There was also something vaguely familiar about him too.

The macabre tableau had quite shocked her and she was looking forward to talking about it later, talking it out of her system, with her husband, John of seven years whom she loved deeply.

She strolled into the kitchen to prepare the evening meal for them both - John would be home just after six. She clicked the kettle on and remembered the letter.

As she slid her finger along the envelope to open it she thought of the man who had drowned; and how tragically unlucky some people were. She realised in contrast how lucky she was to have John, John who wasn't just hunky but was kind and generous, and funny. What would she do without him?

The letter was from Eve, the self-styled spokesperson of the building.

Maria, I don't know whether you are aware but it appears that one of our residents is 'entertaining' gentleman. Well, I don't know how you feel about it but many of us here are outraged by the prospect of prostitution amongst our upstanding little community. The lady in question resides in Flat 5 and her name is Jayne Marshall…

Maria let her arm fall.

Yes, that was where she had seen the drowning man before - he must have been one of her clients. She recalled that she had once bumped into him on the landing, he had seemed quite nervous. But he wouldn't be visiting her again.

Jayne Marshall, why doesn't that surprise me, bit of a Cockney slapper, she thought.

She recollected Jayne trying to engage her in conversation once but she really wasn't Maria's type - too rough.

She heard the door open. It was John and he was early.

“Hi darling, I've got some rather interesting things to tell you.”

Maria threw her arms round the only man she had ever loved…

*

Douglas lay in the hospital bed, his mind was still spinning though he had just been given something to help him relax. According to the doctor he had been clinically dead for a very brief period and he was a very, very fortunate man. He was also a hero for saving the life of the boy who couldn't swim.

It had been decided that he would be kept in overnight for observation. He felt drained but otherwise okay.

Penny and his youngest lad had been in to see him - he loved his family dearly. And that was what was troubling him. Penny his wife of twenty three years, though lovely and loyal, did nothing for him anymore. He had also harboured a secret craving to be a woman at times, it was something he had desired since childhood. And he also needed to be punished as a woman.

About six months ago he had contacted a local prostitute and she had agreed to allow him to dress as a woman and then cane him on a regular basis. He had felt dirty but it satisfied his needs and provided he was discrete he rationalised there would be no need for Penny to get hurt. However the bag of clothes he was carrying on his way to Jayne's today had got mislaid when he had dived in to save the lad. Where were they? With the police? With the hospital?

He could just visualise the headlines in the local rag - River Hero Who Plucked Boy from Death Was Cheating Sadomasochistic Transvestite!

He really didn't need that.

With a bit of luck his clothes were at the bottom of the river, where they would stay.

Then there was the lucid dream. It was so real, and exciting. Strange that he had become Maria the manageress from the bookshop, transforming himself into her and even incorporating the drowning into her life - weird. He also cringed at the time he had bumped into her on the landing where Jayne lived and worked. He didn't think Maria knew him though - and he couldn't really tell anyone about the hallucination either.

He yawned as sleep beckoned…

*

He found himself standing on the beach. He was naked yet curiously he experienced no shame or embarrassment and he was at the shore's edge impassively observing the wavelets break relentlessly upon the rippled sand.

The sea was green, the sky was blue and the sand yellow. It was like a child's crayon drawing - primary colours in a primary world.

He had alternately swum and sun bathed here many times in the past. It was his home town, the town of his birth and childhood…

“It was exciting today wasn't it?”

“Yes it was Luci. Exciting and dangerous.”

“It felt good to be someone else didn't it, Douglas, and kind of ironic that in order to live life fully one first had to die.”

Her felt the gossamer touch of her fingers run up his spine.

“I liked it too, I was Maria, and you and Jayne. You see I can be anyone I want and it would be fun just the two of us, Douglas, don't you think, hmmm?” she purred seductively in his ear. “Let's do it again, what do you say, it'll be fun.”

“Yeah, Luci, you may be just a dream but what the hell, let's go for it.”

“That's my boy.”

She took him by the hand…

*

In the subdued light of Douglas's hospital room the regular bleep of the heart monitor suddenly flat lined…

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