The Beach House (2 page)

“You really want to race?” Paul asked.

Jenni nodded. “Sure. I’ll be done by two,
three at the latest.”

Tim Harper laughed. “You’ve gone and done it
now, boy. Done it good.”

Paul looked at his grandfather, the
affection obvious in his glance. “We’ll see.”

Jenni finished her coffee and allowed Paul
to drag the bag containing the dirty laundry round to her truck. He
hoisted the bag up with the same easy pull of his shoulders as
before and Jenni glanced away, knowing the thoughts bubbling in her
mind about this youth were entirely inappropriate. How old was he
anyway? Too young for the thoughts filling her head. Seventeen if
he was just out of high school. God, how could she even think about
him that way?

She knew what was wrong, the same thing as
always. She possessed a vast sex drive with nowhere to express it.
Her husband, only ever moderately ardent, took marriage as a signal
to stop trying altogether. A week after the church service what
little libido he may once have possessed melted to nothing.

Jenni had no outlet for her needs, not on an
island as small as this where everyone knew everyone else. She had
enjoyed some liaisons in the past, but all vacation people. A forty
year old husband showed interest, and Jenni experienced no guilt
when she let him fuck her senseless, lying out on the dunes the
night before he vacated his rental. But Jenni drew the line at an
underage conquest, however beautiful.

Paul pushed the tailgate closed, squealing
its usual protest.

“Grampa said I should come help you with the
rest.” He stared down at his feet. “I told him you probably
wouldn’t want me tagging along.” He glanced up, caught her looking
at him and his eyes darted away. “Do you?”

“I could do with the help,” Jenni said,
amused. Maybe she couldn’t jump his bones, but that didn’t prevent
her appreciating his beauty. She would enjoy teasing him some too.
That might be fun. “Only if you haven’t got anything else planned.
There are some kids your age in the Bradley place this week. Have
you met them?”

“They’re only sixteen.” Paul’s tone was
dismissive.

“Ah, of course.” Jenni tried to keep the
smile from her face. “Come on then, if you’re going to help climb
aboard.” She pulled herself up behind the wheel and turned the
clunky engine over. Paul came round and sat across from her.

“I’m eighteen Tuesday,” he said, obviously
trying to make his voice casual.

“You are?” Jenni turned in the seat, peering
through the mottled rear window as she backed out, knowing the
movement was pushing her breasts tight against the t-shirt, knowing
Paul’s eyes would be on her tits. She suppressed that smile again.
It felt good to tease him, even if she didn’t plan on going any
further. “You having a party?”

She bullied the gearshift into first,
crawled the pickup around the house and along the beach to the next
a hundred yards further on. Later she would work her way back,
after everyone had either left for the ferry ride to the mainland
or gone out for the day, cleaning each house in turn.

“Mom threw me a big party back home before I
flew out,” Paul said. “Gramps said we might have a small one
Tuesday, just the three of us, as it’ll be my real birthday.”

“No girls from, you know…” Jenni nodded
toward the Bradley house on the end of the row.

“They’re a bit immature.” Paul stared out
the window as though the surf was the most fascinating thing he had
ever seen.

Jenni laughed. “Yeah, I guess they might
seem that way to an almost eighteen year old.”

She saw Paul glance at her, not sure if she
was making fun of him or not. His look sent a thrill all the way
along her spine. No, she thought, not making fun of him… not making
fun of him at all…

The day was edging toward a close as Jenni walked
from
the sea in her mismatched bikini. Her body tingled from
expended energy, the pleasure heightened by the drubbing she had
given Paul. He might be a good swimmer, but Jenni swam at least an
hour every day of the year and only someone outstanding was going
to beat her, particularly on the long half mile route she had set.
She heard Paul trailing along behind, his breathing still coming
fast. She twirled back and laughed.

“Don’t sweat it, honey; no-one’s beaten me
yet.”

He grinned and she liked there was no rancor
in him. “Next year,” he said.

“You coming back next year? Think you can
handle more humiliation?”

“I’m coming back so I can beat you.” His
grin widened, eyes meeting Jenni’s, not as afraid of her as he had
been.

At Kate’s house Jenni used the cold shower
out back to wash the salt off before changing in the lean-to shed.
She heard the shower running indoors, right next to the wall the
shed was built against. Her mind projected the few feet through the
shingles to imagine Paul standing under the shower, water cascading
over his lean body. She wondered if his cock was hard in the same
way as her nipples, wondered if he was rubbing himself and for a
moment lust filled her body, making her weak. She had dried but not
dressed, stood with one hand against the wall while the other crept
down, touched her belly and slid lower. Jenni adjusted her stance,
opening her legs to admit her fingers, touching herself, cold from
the sea but as she pushed her fingers inside they were met by
warmth and a smooth slickness.

She gasped, aroused, her eyes fluttering
shut. Through the wall she sensed, or imagined she sensed, the
faint vibration made by the shower. The sound stopped. Jenni stood
alone, fingers thrust inside herself, ashamed of the thoughts in
her head. Paul might be about to turn eighteen, but still so young.
She withdrew her fingers and dressed, hoping to cover her
arousal.

When she emerged carrying the two mismatched
parts of her wet bikini in her hand it was Jenni who avoided Paul’s
gaze as he came on the porch toweling his hair dry, dressed in blue
jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Are you swimming tomorrow?” Paul’s eyes
locked on hers and a thrill coursed through Jenni. He had become
more adventurous, bolder.

“I swim every day.”

“I’ll probably catch you then, if you don’t
mind some company.”

“Don’t mind company.”

Jenni drove back over the island into town.
As she came down the hill a ferry was docking, bringing more
visitors, ready to return day-trippers to the mainland. The ferry,
regular as any clock, said a few minutes after five and Mark would
be home by six wanting his evening meal, would likely be out again
by seven drinking with his buddies. At least it meant he wouldn’t
be home. Jenni preferred it when she had the house to herself, ever
since Mark started taking his frustration at life out on her.
Nothing much to begin with, words and shouting at the start, then a
year ago the physical stuff began, a light slap, a punch to the
ribs. What worried her was the escalation. Sometimes Mark didn’t
seem aware just how hard he hit her.

Had she allowed herself to imagine an
escape, had some feasible option existed, she was starting to think
she might take it, wondering how long it was going to be before
any
other option was better than the one she had
accepted.

***

Sunday Jenni beat Paul, same again on Monday, but he
was catching on to her style, getting closer each day. Or perhaps
she was letting him get closer. Her resolution of Saturday not to
think about him sexually had blown to the winds; she couldn’t
stop
thinking about him, conjuring fantasies of his tight
young body, picturing him naked, picturing what she wanted to do
with him.

Tuesday morning when Mark left for work
Jenni showered and after she dried stood naked in front of the tall
bathroom mirror. She leaned forward to wipe the steam stippled
surface, stared at her distorted body appearing slowly as the air
cooled and the mirror cleared.

She turned sideways, put her hand on her
flat belly, examining herself. Like many women Jenni accomplished
that dichotomy of thought more common than each individual
realized. In private she considered herself hot, in public
believing her looks less than average. Perhaps because of the way
people treated her. Looking at herself, her high breasts
self-supporting despite their size, her lean belly and long legs,
the neat tuft of hair covering her sex, she considered she looked
pretty good. Jenni knew in company her confidence would leach away,
eroded by Mark’s words and actions. She resolved to dismiss all
doubts, dismiss the years of verbal abuse which had grown so
endemic she hardly noticed the constant denigration. Looking at
herself in the mirror she allowed herself to believe in her
beauty.

Jenni turned again, twisting to stare over
her shoulder, noticing the way skin tightened along her side,
outlining the lower ribs. Good ass, she thought, round and tight,
narrow hips and slim thighs. A horizontal ledge showed between her
legs and she leaned forward, putting her palms flat on the floor,
shocked at the wave of arousal crashing through her as she stared
back between her legs at full pussy lips, shivering at the sight
and knowing she was not doing herself any favors.

Turning herself on was going to get her
exactly nowhere other than back on the bed with her hand between
her legs. Temptation whispered in her ear, and on another day she
might have given in. She frequently resorted to pleasuring herself,
at least every other day. Mark seemed not to care about sex
anymore, and when he did the act was always short and brutish,
often as not accompanied by acts of minor violence.

Today was different and Jenni knew the
reason why. Today was Paul’s birthday. Today he turned eighteen,
and although Jenni acknowledged her thoughts were foolish she
couldn’t help wondering if there wasn’t something she had to offer
him. Foolish, because absolutely nothing –
nothing
– was
going to happen. The hopeless fantasy warmed her, making her wet
between the legs, and she nourished that warmth, allowing the
arousal to seep through her body, stiffening her nipples and
bringing a flush to her neck.

Tuesday through Friday were good days, quiet
days when she would go to the beach and check everyone had what
they needed, nothing was broken or damaged, ask if anyone needed
help or advice. Dressed in cut off denims and a tank top, her
mismatched bikini worn beneath, a change of underclothes in the
pickup, she parked behind the Harper house at eleven. As she came
around the side she found them on the porch. Paul had his long legs
up on the railing, binoculars to his face. Kate and Tim drank
coffee, working their way slowly through a pile of fresh chocolate
brownies.

“Hey, Jen, come and have a birthday
brownie.”

She laughed. “I don’t want to spoil the
party.”

“Since when could you ever spoil anything,”
Kate said. “Come up here. Paul, get Jenni a coffee.”

Paul dropped his legs off the rail and went
inside. He came back a minute later with a plain white mug
billowing good fresh coffee aroma. The smell hit Jenni and she had
no choice but to sit and savor.

“How’s the swimming,” she said to Paul.
“Think you can beat me now you’re an adult?” She held his gaze,
trying to communicate something even though she wasn’t exactly sure
what message she was trying to send.

“Oh yeah, I’m so much older than when you
beat me yesterday.”

“You’re going to try though.”

“What do you think?”

She sipped her coffee and nodded. “I think
you are.”

“Are you swimming now?” Kate asked. “Because
Tim and I need to go into town after lunch, so if you’re going to
stay for the birthday lunch as well, Jen, you’d better swim
now.”

“We can always do both, Grams,” Paul said.
“Before and after lunch. Once Jenni’s tired I might stand some sort
of a chance.”

“In your dreams, young ’un.” Jenni laughed.
She saw Paul smile, a secret inner smile, and it sent a shiver
through her.

“I think they forgot to buy anything for my
birthday,” Paul said, “so they’ve got to go into town and find
something quick.”

“You won’t be quick if you’re looking for a
present in town,” Jenni said. “Or maybe you will, because there’s
not much!”

“We have something we need to do,” Tim said,
his face pleasant but closed.

“Let’s go humiliate you then,” Jenni said.
“Again.”

Paul grinned and stood up, stretching his
muscles. Jenni went round the back and stripped her denims and tank
top off and walked back to the bottom of the porch.

“Why don’t you let me give you one of my old
suits, Jen?” Kate asked. “I don’t use them now, and I’m sure they
would fit you.”

Jenni shook her head, long tresses brushing
her shoulders. “This is my lucky outfit, Kate. If I change it now
Paul might beat me.”

“We can’t have that,” Kate said.

They walked down to the line of surf.
Families, kids, teenagers and old folks dotted the sand, sun
loungers arrayed, each one an unspoken but understood and accepted
distance for the others. Balls bounced, kids yelled, romances
sparked. Jenni glimpsed the sixteen year old girls from the Bradley
house talking with two boys their own age. Jenni guessed Paul had
missed his chance, despite his protests he wasn’t interested. The
girls were cute in tiny bathing suits, white zinc on their pretty
noses.

When their swim was over and they returned
from the water the sun said midday, Paul laughing because Jenni had
beaten him again, but only by twenty yards.

“I’ll get you after lunch,” he said. “You’re
staying for my birthday lunch, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure I should, Paul. You ought to
be spending your birthday with family.”

“I am. But I’d like if you stayed as well.”
He slowed and when Jenni turned her head it was to see him staring
hard at her, staring into her eyes as they met his, and the flutter
started up in her belly and she wondered if Paul noticed her
nipples suddenly peak against her top.