The sun was sinking over the Atlantic Ocean, and he noticed that the ocean
itself was smooth as a pond. The sky was clear except for some scattered clouds.
He said to Jill, "Nice night."
She opened her door and got out. Bud turned off the engine and followed her.
They surveyed the expanse of white sand beach that ended at the ocean's
edge fifty yards away. The water sparkled with golden flecks in the setting sun
and a soft land breeze rustled the sea oats on the dunes.
Bud looked around to see if they were alone. Dune Road was the only way in or
out of this barrier island, and he'd seen a few cars leaving the beaches and
heading back toward Westhampton, but no cars traveling in their direction.
The thin island ended a hundred yards to the west at Moriches Inlet, and on
the other side of the inlet he could see the edge of Smith Point County Park on
Fire Island.
It was Wednesday, so the Hampton weekenders were back in the city, and anyone
left was deep into the cocktail hour. Plus, it was about a half mile back to
where vehicles were supposed to stop. Bud said, "I guess we have the beach to
ourselves."
"That's what I told you."
Jill went around the Explorer and opened the rear hatch. Bud joined her and
together they removed a few items, including a blanket, an ice chest, a video
camera, and a tripod.
They found a sheltered valley between two grassy dunes, and Jill laid out the
blanket and cooler while Bud set up the tripod and video camera. He took off the
lens cap, looked through the viewfinder, and pointed the camera at Jill sitting
cross-legged and barefoot on the blanket. The last glimmers of red sunlight
illuminated the scene, and Bud adjusted the zoom lens and hit the Record button.
He joined Jill on the blanket as she uncorked a bottle of white wine. He took
two wineglasses from the ice chest and she poured.
They clinked glasses, and Bud said, "To summer evenings, to us,
together." They drank and kissed.
They were both aware of the video camera recording their images and voices,
and they were a little self-conscious. Jill broke the ice by saying, "So, do
you come here often?"
Bud smiled and replied, "First time. How about you?"
They smiled at each other and the silence became almost awkward. Bud didn't
like the camera pointing at them, but he could see the upside later when they
got back to their hotel room in Westhampton and played the tape while they had
sex in bed. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea.
They had a second glass of wine, and aware that the light was fading, Jill
got down to business. She set her glass on the cooler, stood, and pulled off her
knit top.
Bud stood and took off his shirt.
Jill dropped her khaki shorts and kicked them away. She stood there a few
seconds in her bra and panties as Bud got undressed, then she took off her bra
and slid her panties off. She faced the camera, threw her arms in the air, did a
few gyrations, then said, "Ta da!" and bowed toward the camera.
They embraced and kissed, and their hands ran over each other's bare body.
Jill moved Bud at right angles to the lens, then looked back at the camera
and said, "Blow job. Take One." She dropped to her knees and began to
perform oral sex on him.
Bud got very stiff while his knees went rubbery. He didn't know what to do
with his hands, so he put them on her head and ran his fingers through her
straight brown hair.
Bud forced a smile, knowing the camera was capturing the expression on his
face, and he wanted to look happy when they played it back later. But, in truth,
he felt somewhere between silly and uncomfortable.
He could be a little raunchy in mixed company, while she was usually
soft-spoken and demure, with an occasional smile or witticism. In bed, however,
he was still surprised at her sexual nuttiness.
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