I'm so exhausted that I'm dizzy, panting like I…well, swam a mile. I rub my face and scrap my wet hair back as I drag my stupid ass ashore and to my towel, which I promptly collapse upon.
"Fuckin' dumbass," I growl at myself, out loud, and then adopt a mocking tone of voice. "Oh yeah, let's go to the beach, it'll be fun, they said. Let's swim halfway to fucking Wisconsin andalmost die, they said.”
I hear a snort from my right. Startled, I glance in that direction and see the goddess with the silver eyes and white hair. Amber? No. Cooler than that. Ember. The one with the vintage orange VW and the most amazing tits I've ever seen.
Which are on prominent display at the moment. She's wearing a vivid blue bikini whose color contrasts with her tanned golden skin and white-blond hair. The top is wholly insufficient for the task of containing her monster boobs—it's basically a bit of string wrapped in a complex web around her chest, neck, and shoulders, with two triangles barely the size of a palm covering her nipples and a few inches of skin around them, leaving the rest beautifully exposed. She's lying on her back, so they drape to either side, pulling at the top so the breast nearest me is nearly falling out, showing a hint of areola—a sliver of pale, pretty pink.
The bottoms are just as spectacularly revealing—she has one knee propped up and tilted inward, rolling her hips slightly toward me. The bend at her hip creates a crease into which the string vanishes, hinting at the shape of her pussy, showing off the whole of her bare leg—which I quite vividly remember glimpsing the last time we met; it’s long and thick and round and smooth, muscular and toned.
"You're staring again, Kayce," she says, smirking at me.
"Name's Felix," I grumble, shutting my eyes to tear them away from her mesmerizing body. "And I can't help it. You in that bikini…fuckin' hypnotizing."
Pink stains her cheeks. "What, this ol' thing?"
I cover my eyes with my hands as if to shield them from the sun, because I'm helpless against the siren song of her nearly nude body. “Yeeeeeahhhhh,” I drawl. "that ol' thing."
I hear a cackle from the other side of Ember—the dry, papery laugh of an old woman. "She's somethin', ain't she, son?"
I lift up on an elbow and look, with some difficulty, past Ember. Wrinkled, weathered skin is my reward for trying to see who's talking to me—an old woman on her belly, cheek on her hands, a purple bikini string untied to get sun on her back.
"She is at that, ma'am," I say.
“Ma'am, he says," she cackles, not looking at me. "One of the old breed, with honest-to-goodnessmanners." She twists her head to crack an eye in my direction. "Oh, I know you. You're one of Carson Crowe's boys. Felix, is it?"
"Yes, ma'am," I answer, surprised. I recognize her, but can't put a name to her. "I admit you have the better of me. I know I know you, but I'm not great at remembering names."
"Faye McFarlane. I taught art up at the high school. I retired, ohhhhh, when you were in ninth grade, I think? Over ten years ago, now. Of course, when I say retired, I mean fully retired. After my Thomas retired, I cut back my hours, but that was twenty years ago. I was gonna fully retire, but then Thomas passed and I had to do something with myself, so I only fully retired, what was it…ten years ago, now? Twelve?"
"Well, ma'am, I'm thirty-two. I graduated fourteen years ago."
She lifts a bit further, forgetting she'd untied her bikini top, showing me a dangerous amount of her breasts. "You sure?" She glances down. "Whoops! Bet you wish that was her, huh?"
Ember rolls her eyes. "Faye, donotencourage him. I've met him twice for all of ten minutes, and he's spent most of that time staring at my chest."
Faye holds her top to her chest and laboriously sits up, turning her back to Ember. "Do me up, would you, missy?" While Ember is tying, Faye winks at me over her shoulder. "I mean, I can't say I blame him. Lotta real estate to see, if you know what I mean."
I completely fail to suppress the snicker of laughter.
Ember frowns at Faye, and then at me. "I feel ganged up on. Should I put my dress back on?"
Faye turns to face us both. "No one's ganging up on you, Ember." She tosses her visor aside, rummages in the huge bag at her side, and comes up with an orange life preserver, the kind that used to be ubiquitous in tin fishing boats for decades.
Ember snickers. "Jesus, Faye, what else you got in there?"
Faye makes a face, shrugging. "Oh, you know, this and that." She works herself to her knees, and then half-kneeling, and then upright. "Whew, that was rough. Gotta do more of those mobility exercises Doc Murthy gave me. The chair yoga ain't cuttin' it. I'll be damned if I'm gonna end up on a Life Alert commercial."
“Going for a dip?" Ember asks.
Faye shakes the big, thick orange flotation device. "Gonna float a bit. If the current takes me and I don’t come back, let the lake have me."
Ember blinks at her. "Faye, I can't tell if you're joking or not."
“Me either!" Faye cackles. She gives me a wink. "And don't stare at my ass, Felix Crowe! I'm an old woman."
I choke on laughter as she wades out into the water, settles the life jacket under her shoulders and head while lying on her back, using the chest portion as arm rests, and kicks away to float lazily in the shallows.
"Jesus, Ember," I say, shaking my head. "Where the fuck did you dig up that nutty old fossil?"
