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Her New Beach House, a short story
Her New Beach House, a short story
I was at the beach over Labor Day, and this little story came to mind:
Her New Beach House
The house was magnificent. Four stories, 5 decks, pool, walkway to the beach and a gorgeous view to both the east and west. “The contractor is doing much better than expected”, he thought to himself as he wandered through the new construction. “I might even be in for Christmas”.
As he headed toward the stairs to leave, he heard someone walking downstairs. Peering down the open stairwell, he called “May I help you with something?” in a tone that made it clear that helping was the last thing he had in mind. At the bottom of the stairs, an attractive, well-endowed blonde appeared. She wore just a bikini and heels. From his angle, almost directly above her, he could see right into her cleavage. His face lit up with a smile, and he repeated the words, this time making it clear all he could think of was helping her.
The woman stammered a bit, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to look at the house. Uh, er, my husband will be coming up in a minute”.
“That’s quite alright; you aren’t intruding at all. Let me give you the grand tour”
“You aren’t a mugger are you?”
He laughed. “No, I have lawyers who do that for me these days. They are waiting upstairs.”
She grinned as she began climbing the stairs…. “Serial killer?”
Shaking his head, he answered “No, I never could figure out how to kill someone with oatmeal.”
She gave him a blank stare. “Huh?”
“Never mind; get your husband and come on up”, but he thought to himself, pretty and not too bright, perfect. I’m through with smart women, thinking of the bitch who had just been his secretary/lover and had taken off with $200,000 of his money.
“I have a confession to make”, the woman said as she reached the top of the stairs, “I don’t have a husband downstairs”. “That’s ok”, he said “I have a confession too; there aren’t any lawyers upstairs”
A little smile crossed her lips “No lawyers? You mean we're all alone in this great big house?” She stepped very close to him.
“Uh huh” was all he could get out as his senses were filled with her … her perfume, her smile, her closeness.
“Take me” she said with a come on look.
He couldn’t believe what he heard. He stepped closer, putting out his arms to pull her close. She stepped away “on that Grand Tour; let’s start downstairs”.
As he followed her back down the stairs, she asked, “Are you married?”. He barely got out the “No … well, we are separated” before she continued “I’ve been married twice. Charles, my first husband, he was into ……….
Thirty minutes later she paused just long enough for him to say “This is the kitchen”
“This reminds me of my mother’s kitchen”, she began, “Of course, she hasn’t cooked in years, ever since she came down with …….
Fifteen minutes later, he was thinking “She better be great in bed after having to listen to this crap”. She, however, had moved on to her father and his life story.
Twenty five minutes later, they were still on the first floor and he decided to cut his loses. Looking at his watch, “Oh, I need to go, I’ve got… As he said this, she slipped her arm in his and put on a pouty look. “You aren’t going to show me the bedrooms?”
He led her back toward the stairs. She asked “Did I tell you about my second ex?” and without pausing for an answer, she proceeded to do just that.
An hour later, he was sitting on the edge of the newly installed bathtub, while she was describing the therapy she had after the death of her cat. He couldn’t take it anymore. He rose to leave “Hun, take all the time you want to look around … it’s been nice to meet you”. But she stepped in front of him, cutting off his escape route, standing so close that her breasts just grazed his shirt. “Let’s go upstairs”. Looking down into that cleavage ‒ there was nothing else he could do but take her upstairs.
By now he’d lost track of time and the topics she’d talked about. He wondered how any one person could talk non-stop for so long. He had to get out of there. When her back was turned, he tried to slip down the stairs, but again, she was too quick for him. She must have sensed how anxious and desperate he was getting, because this time, she rubbed her hand over his crotch. “Don’t go yet. I’d love to see the view from the Widow’s Walk”.
He hesitated. Her yakking was driving him freakin insane. But he’d been dreaming of breaking in the widow’s walk …. So he took her hand and led the way. Which, of course, reminded her of the time when ………
The woman reading the paper in Starbucks was average in every way, including her middle age. She showed particular interest in an article headlined “Prominent Businessman falls to death”. According to the reporter, he had fallen from the deck on the top of the house that was under construction. The police were calling it a suicide; there were no signs of foul play and a “Dear John” letter mistress was found in his hand.
The blonde woman from the beach house pulled up and got out of her car, only today she was dressed casually and was a brunette. She entered Starbucks and sat down next to the older woman.
The older woman pulled an envelope from her purse and handed it to the brunette. It was an envelope that might hold a birthday card, but, if anyone was paying attention and no one was, they’d have noticed that it was especially thick. The brunette took it and slid it in her purse.
“How were you able to push a man his size over the railing?”
“I did not touch him. Let’s just say I used my feminine wiles”, the brunette smiled.
“OOO, I like that” the older woman exclaimed. “That will be the name”.
“For my new beach house. Feminine Wiles”. They both smiled. The brunette rose to leave, but the older woman stopped her “What about the bimbo?”
“She has a job as a waitress in a dive in Mexico”.
“And she knows the arrangements? $200 grand is all she gets. She knows what will happen if she comes back for more?”
“Yes, and she’ll get a copy of that article in the mail as a reminder”. With that, the brunette turned and left.
The older woman perused the rest of the paper, then got up to leave. As she passed the trash can on her way out the door, she rammed the newspaper in it, almost violently. Then a smile crossed her face, and she left Starbucks, a free woman.
9/6/2006 7:33 am
Wow, that was defintely not what I was expecting...VERY, VERY GOOD!! I give it two thumbs up! You are a great writer...kept me wondering what was going to happen. I can't wait to see what you come up with next!!|
P.S. Thanks for sending me an email and asking me over!!! It was well worth it!