Lonnie was running hard on the beach, sweating bullets. It was late on the Saturday morning of Memorial Day weekend, and the sun was hot and the sky was high. Humid as hell, too. He was about halfway through his fourth mile, and in a few minutes he would be leaving the beach and getting back on the pavement. Then he would run the five blocks to his condo complex and jump in the pool.
He loved running on the beach for several reasons. There was usually a breeze. The hard-packed sand was the ideal running surface. And the scenery: the beach babes, slim, hot, and wearing little.
It was a small town on the northeast coast of Florida, a quaint throwback to earlier times. No high-rises trashing the land and seascape like most of Florida. The developers and the politicians in their pockets hadn’t ruined this place yet. It was just five miles down the intracoastal from a college town, an historic tourist destination. People flocked to the area for weekends, or weeks on end, to soak up the history and soak up the rays.
It was a good day for sightseeing, Lonnie thought as he plodded along, checking out the scenery from behind his shades. The beach was crowded and the babes were out in force. It made him want to slow down so he’d have a better chance to take them all in.
One gal caught his eyes immediately. She was standing at the edge of the water, getting her feet wet, and even from fifty yards Lonnie could tell that she had a body that could knock a buzzard off a trash truck. He knew that from afar, bodies could often look really good, but then would get frumpier the closer he got. Not this time. This woman’s body was incredible. A long, lean blonde, with dynamite legs, toned arms and shoulders, nice medium-sized titties standing straight out. Slim and athletic, just his type. At first he thought she was naked, but as he approached he could tell she wore a skimpy bikini that barely covered what she had and was a close match to her tanned skin tone. He slowed, wanting a better look. As he passed her from barely five feet away, he did a double-take. He knew her.
He stopped and turned around. She was looking at a tanker off the coast. He studied her face for a moment. It was a face he’d known for a couple of years. He walked up to her.
“Claire?” he said. “Is that you?”
She looked puzzled, surprised by his approach. Lonnie could see momentary confusion on her face as she tried to focus.
“Yes?” she said.
They stood there looking at each other. She was deeply tanned, her tits and crotch and ass barely covered by her bikini. He wore only shoes, running shorts, and a baseball cap. They were way out of context. When they usually saw each other they both wore business attire.
“It’s me, Lonnie.”
“Oh, right! Lonnie, Hi!” she said, enthusiastically. “I didn’t recognize you at first.”
“It took me a moment, too,” he said. “I guess it’s because we’re both half-naked.”
They laughed. “I guess,” she said.
“God, you look amazing,” he said.
“My eyes zeroed in on you from fifty yards away.”
“Oh, please…” she said with a soft, embarrassed laugh.
“I’m serious. Do you come to the beach often? I run this beach every weekend and I haven’t seen you before.”
“Maybe you haven’t looked in the right places.”
“I run up and down this beach every Saturday and Sunday. I live just five blocks from the pier.”
“I don’t usually come here to the town beach. I don’t like the crowds. I’m here today with my Mom.” She pointed to an older woman nearby, seated in a beach chair under an umbrella, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, reading a paperback book. “She’s staying with us for the weekend.”
Lonnie liked looking at Claire, but Mom pretty much squashed any thoughts of hanging out with her. He prolonged his small talk for a couple minutes longer while he checked out her body some more. Her wet swimsuit clinging like shrink wrap to her taut nipples, firm ass, and cameltoe. Her toned upper body and lean legs, beaded with seawater. The small sun and moon tattoos on her shoulders. The gold stud in her navel. His shades were dark, so she probably couldn’t see his eyes flitting about. But he knew she knew.
They said their goodbyes, and Lonnie ran off down the beach, heading for home with half a boner in his sweat-soaked shorts.
Lonnie worked for a firm that created direct marketing campaigns for local businesses. All businesses and advertisers were his prospects, from the largest companies to the smallest Mom-and-Pops. Over two years before, when he was in his third week on the job, he was cold-calling a large strip shopping center. He started at one end of the center and went right down the line, calling on every business. The shoe store, the dry cleaner, the bowling alley, the Chinese takeout, the hardware, one after the other. About two-thirds of the way through he came to a small shop. It was a religious bookstore. His gut told him that this place was probably not much of a candidate for a sale, but he went in anyway. A bell sounded when he opened the door. He was relieved to see the place had no customers at the moment, thinking he could get in and out quickly without wasting much time. The store was deeper than it was wide, and the sales counter was in the back. As he strode toward the counter, a woman stood up behind it. That’s when he met Claire.
The first thing he noticed about her was her smile. It was so genuine, like the girl next door you’ve known your whole life, someone you trusted right away. It put him at ease, and any hesitancy about approaching this particular store was already gone. Then he noticed her face, pretty and tan, with baby blue eyes that seemed to see right through him, a strong chin and high cheekbones, blonde hair brushing her shoulders, pearl earrings. Then he noticed her clothing. A green skirt that fell below her knees and a baggy, long-sleeved blue smock with the store logo sewn on it. Demure, to a fault. It didn’t go along with her face.
Lonnie introduced himself, told her a little about his products and showed her a few samples. He gave her his usual quick pitch, and asked if he could schedule a time to come back and make a presentation. She surprised him and said, sure come on back, let’s do it right now.
There was a door behind the counter. She led him through it to a back room with shelves loaded with merchandise, books, cards, gift items and numerous other stock. On one side was a desk, a couple chairs and a file cabinet.
“My office,” Claire said, pointing to a chair. “Not fancy I know, but please have a seat. If the bell rings I will have to take care of the customers.
Lonnie sat down, opened his case and went into his spiel. The presentation normally took about twenty minutes, but they were interrupted once for a few minutes when the doorbell went off. He was there a good forty minutes altogether, and at the end she surprised him.
“I like it,” she’d said. “I think it would be a good way to reach new customers. I will have to discuss it with a couple people to have it approved. We have a meeting next week and I will put this on the agenda.”
“I’d be happy to come to your meeting and do another presentation,” Lonnie offered, figuring much would get lost in the translation if Claire did it.
“That won’t be necessary,” she’d said, smiling as if she’d read his mind. “This is the way we do things. The store is owned by the church, and I meet regularly with the treasurer and pastor. They usually go along with what I recommend if it’s in the budget, and we have some funds available. And I think it would be a good thing to try. Can you leave a few samples that I can show them?”
Lonnie left her with a media kit stuffed with information: testimonials, rates, maps, samples. He could tell Claire was impressed. She asked him to call her a week from Friday for a decision.
Two weeks later they were both seated at her desk designing her first campaign. Claire signed a contract to run a promotion every other month.
That was how it started. Lonnie began calling on Claire on a regular basis. There were meetings to design and write copy, meetings to go over and proof the copy and make collections and drop off samples.
They liked each other. She always seemed happy to see him, and he always loved to see her smile when he walked into the store.They talked about things other than business, too. She didn’t talk much about herself, but he did find out a few things. She had graduated from college with a degree in business and marketing, which made Lonnie laugh, because she was so modest but probably knew a hell of a lot more about his own business than he did. She was married to the head coach of the powerhouse local high school football team, and they had moved here when he got hired. She had left a good job as a marketing director at a large outlet mall and was now running this little store.
He always looked forward to his times when he’d see her. With each visit they became more comfortable. She had a droll sense of humor that belied her clothing, which was always conservative and covered by the company smock. She had an easy laugh, but a shy smile. And Lonnie liked it when she would touch him on his arm sometimes as she spoke. Occasionally they would flirt with each other, both figuring there was no harm and nothing would come of it. Just a little innocent fun.
“Are you really married, or do you just wear that ring to keep guys from hitting on you?” Lonnie kidded with her one time.
“Really married,” she said. Then added: “If it was just for discouraging men, I’d have a bigger diamond.”
He’d been curious how old she was, but of course he couldn’t ask. He found out by accident. He saw a birthday card on the shelf beside her desk.
“Is it your birthday?” he asked.
“Day before yesterday,” she said.
“Really? Well, happy birthday! I wish I’d known. So, twenty-five again, huh?”
“She laughed. “Yeah, I wish.”
They ended up guessing their ages. Lonnie said he thought Claire was twenty-eight, she told him she was thirty-one. She guessed he was twenty-four, he said ‘No, I’ll be twenty-six in two months’.
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“Well, it looks like we’re both aging well.”
Claire leaned forward laughing and squeezed his knee when she did so.
The only times that their meetings became the least bit tense was when Claire would bring up religion, and try to get him to come to church. Every few months she’d bring it up, Lonnie would feel embarrassed and their whole vibe would disintegrate into awkwardness, and he’d want to slink away. Lonnie believed that the bible and the world’s religions were all just different versions of the same fairy tale. Finally, one time she brought it up again and he told her politely but firmly, ‘Look Claire, I was brought up in church. My mother dragged us kids there every Sunday while Dad played golf. When we became teenagers she let us make up our own minds. One of my sisters stayed, the rest of us left. I’m a good guy, and God knows I’m a good guy. If he wants me, I think he’ll come after me himself’.
Claire smiled, thought he was cute. ‘Touche,” she said. She never mentioned it again.
Lonnie had a lot of clients around town, and many of them knew each other. Some of them would gossip about others, and over time he heard a thing or two about Claire, or more specifically, about her husband and her marriage. The gist was that her husband was not all he was cracked up to be. Sure, he was a big man on the high school campus, and highly successful as the head football coach, but he also had an ego to more than match. He could be verbally and sometimes physically abusive to his players, assistants, and even his wife. He fooled around. He was the kind of guy who went to church on Sunday, mostly to be noticed and get pumped up by compliments from the football fans, but used it as a license to be a prick the other six days of the week. The general consensus was that Claire was a good woman trapped in a bad marriage to a Type A asshole.
Lonnie was thinking about all that as he cooled off in the pool after seeing Claire on the beach. He thought about her body, how delicious it looked, and how she’d kept it shrouded from him by her loose, church lady clothing for over two years. He knew she was attractive, but he never imagined she was so sexy, and so comfortable in her skin, as well as that skimpy swimsuit. It saddened him to think of her stuck in a bad marriage and he wondered what her home life was really like. She was always cheerful and upbeat when she greeted him, but was it all just an act? Or was it possible that their occasional touching and flirting was not so innocent after all?
The following week he stopped by the store. Claire’s face broke into a wide grin and she greeted him warmly. The store had just opened so there were no customers yet. His excuse for dropping by was that he wanted to leave her copies of some new templets his company had designed that she might want to use for future ads. He could have brought them the next time they met to put her ad together, but he just wanted to see her and talk to her. After a brief rundown, he got to the real reason for his visit.
“It was fun seeing you on the beach last week,” he said.
“Yes, that was nice. I didn’t recognize you at first without your shirt and tie,” she responded.
“I know what you mean. I did a double-take and almost ran right by you before I realized it was you. I’m not used to seeing so much of you as I did that day, if you know what I mean.”
She gave him the shy smile he adored, and said, “I could say the same about you.”
“But I have to tell you something, Claire. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that day.” He nervously shuffled his feet. “You…, I couldn’t believe, uh, I mean I always knew you were attractive, but geez, I can’t believe what a killer body you have. And why you’ve been hiding it behind that smock for so long. You should let that body out!”
“Well, thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Oh yeah, it’s a compliment.”
Claire briefly pictured Lonnie on the beach that day: The broad shoulders, slim waist, flat stomach, his muscled thighs, his tight, sweaty running shorts.
“Well, I think you’ve been hiding a pretty good body behind your salesman outfits, too.”
Lonnie blushed. “To think how many times I’ve run on that beach and never spotted you.”
“You wouldn’t have spotted me. That’s not where I usually go to the beach. I go to a place that’s more private. Quiet and secluded, where I can have it to myself.”
“Sounds nice. Where is it?”
Claire hesitated. “It’s kind of a secret.”
“A secret? What kind of a secret? Is it on the ocean? There aren’t any private beaches around here.”
“Yes, it’s on the ocean,” she said. “But I haven’t shared it with anyone yet.”
Lonnie took the hint and didn’t push the issue. But to him the key word she’d said was yet.
A customer came in so they wrapped it up, and quickly set an appointment to design the next mailing set to go out for Vacation Bible School.
They met the following Thursday morning, a half hour before the store opened, so they could get the work done without being interrupted by customers. They were seated at her desk as they worked on the copy. Lonnie noticed Claire was wearing a light touch of eye shadow he hadn’t seen before. She was sitting a little closer too, and he could smell her sweet, delicate scent. When she touched his arm or her hand brushed his, he’d feel himself getting aroused, thinking, she has no idea what she’s doing to me. Or does she? It made him want to bury his face into her neck and chew her smock off with his teeth.
They were done in twenty minutes. Lonnie prolonged his visit.
“So, are you ready to tell me where your special, private beach is?”
“I told you, it’s a secret,” she said.
“Why is it a secret? If it’s such a great place, wouldn’t it be better if you shared it? I won’t tell anyone.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“What’s the matter? Do you think I’m going to sneak up on you and take pictures of you in your bikini and sell them on the internet? Listen, what if you passed out and didn’t make it home? Somebody should know where to look.”
Claire laughed. “You are good, Lonnie. You should go into sales.”
That made Lonnie laugh. They sat there looking at each other earnestly until they both broke into big smiles.
“Okay. I’ll tell you,” she said. “I’ve never told anyone. It will be our secret, okay?” He nodded. “You know the state park, north of town? If you walk up the beach from town about a half mile, there is the beach area where all the park visitors go. There’s a life guard, snack bar, parking lot, beach rentals, all that. And that’s where all the people are. They all stay there, right on top of each other. But the parkland goes on for three more miles north of there all the way to the inlet. There’s a point about a mile and a half up where the coastline curves eastward and the dunes are high white sand. My spot is right at the bend, protected, and I can see the whole beach north and south. If anybody is approaching from either direction, I can see them coming from a mile away. I’ve been there a hundred times and only once has anyone come close, and they turned around long before they could have spotted me.
“Anyway, as you know, I have Mondays off. I do my chores in the morning, and then all afternoon I’m on the beach. Weather permitting, of course. So, can you keep our secret?”
Lonnie had a lump in his throat. He nodded and softly said yes. He felt like kissing her but he knew he couldn’t. It was time for Claire to open the store.
Claire watched his behind as he walked the length of the store and out the door. Her own true feelings surprised her. She was hoping he would come Monday. Lonnie knew he would.
The following Monday was a day as beautiful as the one when Claire and Lonnie talked on the beach. Claire got her chores done quickly so she could get an earlier start. She was anxious, hoping he would come. She took an extra beach towel, just in case.
Lonnie decided to take the afternoon off. He knocked off at half-past noon, drove home to his condo and changed from his work clothes to his running attire: shoes, shorts, ball cap and shades. He drank a pint of water as he stretched, and then was out the door. He eased into it, jogging the five blocks to the pier, then onto the beach. He slogged through the soft sand to get to the hard packed sand at the water’s edge, then he started running north. There was a pleasant breeze which felt cool on his sweaty chest. He picked up his pace, passed the cluster of people on the state park beach area, and soon had nothing but open, empty coastline ahead of him.
Claire had been nestled in her spot for about an hour when she first spotted him. He was about a mile away. Good timing, she thought. It was about time for another application of tanning oil and she could get Lonnie to apply her second coat. She’d been thinking for days about how it might feel to have his hands roaming around on her body. She shivered at that thought, and watched his smooth stride as he drew near. She spread the extra beach towel on the sand next to her own.
Lonnie didn’t see Claire until he was barely a hundred yards away. It was a superb spot, just like she had said. A smile broke out on his face and he picked up the pace. He slowed and walked the last twenty yards. She looked great lying there, then she sat up. She was leaning on her hands, smiling. Her blonde hair was tied back. She had on a different two-piece, even more revealing then the one he’d seen last time, black, with yellow suns and green moons on it, and the bottom was not much more than a thong.
Claire watched his approach and liked what she saw. The smile on his face, and his tapered body, just as good as she remembered. And those flimsy running shorts, sweat-wrapped to his bulge.
“Hi,” he said right off, from five feet away.
“It looks like your secret is out.”
“It’s our secret now.”
“The rest are on their way.”
Lonnie laughed. “Just kidding. I wouldn’t want anyone to crash our party. And I hope I’m not crashing your party.”
“No, you’re not. I wouldn’t have told you if I didn’t want you to come. I was hoping you would. Here, sit down.”
He sat on the towel beside her. “I knew I would.”
“Are you thirsty? Here.” She handed him her insulated cup full of cold water. He took few sips and handed it back to her.
“You are right about this place,” he said. “Perfect spot. The sand is soft as powder. It’s beautiful.”
“Yep. And we have it all to ourselves.”
Lonnie liked the way she said ‘ourselves’. Claire asked him if he had any trouble getting off work, and he told her no, his time was flexible, and as long as his work got done and his numbers were good there was no problem.
“Hey, will you do me a favor?” Claire asked.
“Sure,” he replied.
“Will you rub lotion on my back?”
“Sure, where do I sign?”
“You’re so cute,” she said, and handed him a tube.
He watched her pivot her body around and lay face-down on the towel. Then she surprised him and unhooked her bra in the back. Lonnie thought that was a good sign. She rested the side of her head on the towel. He uncapped the tube and squeezed some onto his hand. Smelled like coconuts. Then he squirted a healthy string on her upper back. He admired her body, smoothly tanned from top to bottom. Her ass was 100% tanned and 99.5% exposed, with only the tapered V of her thong covering the tops of her cheeks, and a thick cord running through her crack.
“Damn, Claire, you have a great tan. No tan lines anywhere.”
“That’s what I like.”
“So do I. You tan in the nude?”
“Sure, if I can. I have a private backyard. And this place is good for that.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
Lonnie treasured the feel of her flesh as his oily fingers and palms glided over her back and shoulders. He thought he heard subtle sighs from Claire as he did so. He heard more sighs, just smidgens away from low moans, when he covered her lower back. He slathered her good, like cream cheese onto a warm bagel.
He was down to her ass. Now what? Should he go right to the legs? Or just dig into her fine ass? He played it safe.
“Want me to do your butt?” he asked.
“Yes. If you want to.”
Does a wild bear shit in the woods? Lonnie was ready to have some fun. He rubbed lotion all over that sublime ass, and used every square millimeter of his hands to be sure he didn’t miss a spot. High, low, around the sides. He squeezed her here and there, inducing more quiet moans. He even spread her cheeks to let the oil ooze in, and slid a finger along her crack to be sure she had even coverage. He was proud of his work. Even Claire’s asshole would have a tan!
He did a clinical application on the back of her legs because he was distracted by the swelled hot rod maxing out in his sweaty shorts.
Then Claire said, “You want to do my front?”
Lonnie replied, “I’d love to do your front!”
She turned over, leaving the bra on the towel beneath her. Her bare, beautiful, fully-tanned tits were a feast for his eyes. He ogled them, then looked at Claire, who had that shy smile on her face. He squirted some juice all over her chest, and spread it around, applying it to her neck, her shoulders, all over her breasts. Claire was looking at his face the whole time, and her smile never wavered. Lonnie kneaded her tits, felt her greasy, erect nipples between his fingers and thumbs. Then he stopped. He looked at her, she was still smiling. His eyes bored holes into her eyes, and her eyes bored holes into his. He leaned down, and with a hand still caressing her breast, he kissed her.
It was the most intense first kiss either had ever had, and it felt long overdue to both of them. Claire’s mouth opened without hesitation, and their tongues tangoed to a sexy beat. It was a long kiss, and when their lips parted, Claire’s hand was on the back of Lonnie’s neck, and her nipples were on a hard, high alert.
“That was nice,” Claire said. “You’re a good kisser.”
“Thank you, so are you,” Lonnie said. “I’ve thought about it for some time.”
“So have I.”
Lonnie went back to his lotion rubbing. He was sure to be careful around Pussyville. Her thong was small, covering her snatch with not much to spare, and he could see the damp outline of her lips. He moved quickly, tracing around it and moved onto her legs, because he didn’t want screw things up. He took his time on her legs and feet.
“I’ve never done this before,” she said.
“Never done what, specifically?”
“Been with another man, or kissed another man, since I’ve been married, other than my husband. I don’t want you to think I’m loose, or a tramp, or anything.”
“I don’t think that,” Lonnie said, thinking they’d known each other for over two years, it’s not like she rushed into anything. After a short pause he added, “Why are you doing it now?” He was hoping to hear some juicy details about her marriage and her philandering husband.
“Because I want to,” was all she said.
Lonnie leaned down and put his lips to hers again, and they shared another long, exploratory kiss, searching, delving and tasting. When they broke the kiss, Claire glanced briefly at his cock, which she could see was of good size, and his shorts straining to keep it hidden.
“Okay, on your stomach,” she said. “Your turn. We don’t want you to burn.”
So Lonnie did. Who wouldn’t? He got face down on the large towel and waited for her fingers to start walking. His cock pressed hard against the sand. He heard the suction of her squeezing the tube, and felt the warm lotion landing on his upper back. Then her hands got busy.
Maybe it was because of his anticipation and that his fantasy about being intimate with her seemed to be coming true, but her hands felt magical on his back. His dick couldn’t get any harder, and he found himself grinding it into the towel. Her fingers dabbed and dug and rubbed here and there, down his back to the base of his spine.
“I know you don’t have a full body tan, but you want me to do your butt?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” he said, short of breath. His heart was in his throat.
“Okay, then. Let’s get these bad boys off of you.”
She slipped the fingers of both her hands inside the elastic waistband of his shorts and pulled them off, his cock snagging on the fabric for a second until he lifted his groin and freed himself. She pulled the shorts all the way down, over his shoes and off. Then she poured lotion all over his ass.
Lonnie felt the trickle of the lotion into his crack, and when he felt her strong hands massaging his ass he wanted to hump the sand beneath him.
“Okay, turn over,” Claire said, after she finished with his calves. “Time to do your front.”
This was new ground for Lonnie. Here he was on the beach with Claire, naked except for his running shoes, and he was thinking, damn, this woman who had been so modest and reserved around me for over two years, has a bit of a wild streak she’s been hiding. And here she is, naked but for the postage stamp barely hiding her gash, relaxed and completely comfortable with her own body, and now she is ready to get comfortable with mine.
He turned over. His cock was hard and swollen, like an overcooked bratwurst resting there on his abdomen, kissing his belly button. Claire took a good gander at it, nodded, but didn’t say anything at first, she just applied the lotion and started rubbing it into his chest. Lonnie’s nipples were aroused by her touch. His groin was squirming like an electric eel.
When she’d worked her way down there, Claire squirted the lotion over his cock and groin upper thighs and said, “I like that you’re shaved. I like the clean look. Makes things easier, too.”
Makes things easier? What things? What the hell is she talking about, Lonnie thought. She’s driving me to the edge, he was hoping he didn’t ejaculate prematurely. It was building up down there, he knew that. He was going to come, probably sooner rather than later, and it was going to be a doozy.
Claire rubbed the lotion into his skin, all around it, taking her time. Then carefully into his testicles. Then she rubbed it all over the shaft of his cock, and the head, and began stroking him slowly, up and down, up and down. Lonnie’s cock was an oil slick, and her hand glided over it with slippery ease. He arched his back, craning for release. Then it stopped.
“This lotion tastes really good. Coconut,” Claire said, and licked her finger.
Then she lowered her head and took his cock into her mouth. Lonnie let out a grown that might have made the offshore whales come up for air. He dug his fingers into the towel and lifted his groin to her face. She played with his balls in one hand while the other one slipped under his ass, and her fingers crept to his crack and dug in. The tip of one entered his hole, and Lonnie thought he might bust his nuts right then.
He concentrated, and held off as best he could, but not for long. His cock had withstood the long rubdown, with Claire’s oily hands tracing over his oily flesh, pushing all his right buttons, but he couldn’t wait any longer. When he knew his dick was about to erupt, he put his hands around her neck and held on, and arched his body, inching it deeper. He came in a long, hot sizzle. It burned its way up through his shaft and ropes of semen shot into her mouth.
He pulled her head to his and kissed her, plunged his tongue into her cum-slick mouth, and rolled her over onto the other towel so he was on top. He knelt between her legs, grabbed her ass with both hands and yanked her toward him and lifted, so her head and upper back were resting on the towel, and her crotch was raised up, and in his face. He sucked the fabric of her thong into his mouth and chewed on it for a moment, tasting its sweaty funk. Then he pulled it to the side and buried his face into her bald, tan pussy.
“Oh My God!” Claire exclaimed, as she pushed her twat into his face and wrapped her legs around his neck.
Lonnie rammed his tongue into her twat, chomped away on her swelled clit, and pigged out. Claire was moaning, writhing, wildly pushing her crotch into him, and digging her hands through his hair as he ate her.
After several minutes he looked up, and said: “I want you to come on my face.”
He rolled them over again so he was on the bottom and Claire was on her knees, sitting on his face. Her pussy-pounding was easier now, being on top, and Lonnie felt the bouncy, grinding force on his mouth, nose, and chin. He sucked on her clit like it was a clogged straw, licked her salty lips, and tongue-fucked her salivating cunt. She was humping his head, he was squeezing her ass.
In a few short minutes, Claire was about to unleash. Lonnie knew it too, he could feel her trembles rumble deep within her and slowly rise up.
“Oh My God!” Claire said again, hissing her words as her body succumbed to the rush.
Her cum gushed out of her ignited snatch and collided with Lonnie’s lips and chin, and into his mouth, giving him his first taste of her lady cum. Her groin twisted with her release, her body shivered atop him, she smushed her seeping cunt into his teeth.
When her spasms subsided, Claire backed off and lowered her face to his. She inserted her tongue into his mouth and their kiss was long and hard, just like Lonnie’s turgid meat. With their mouths plastered together, he rolled their bodies over yet again, he was back on top. It was time to pound Claire’s sexy body into the sand.
Still kissing, he led his cock to her luscious slot and fed it into her. The sensation was amazing, Lonnie thought, as he started fucking her, and her cushioned walls hugged his bloated bone.
“How’s that?” Lonnie said, as he thrusted it into her.
“Oh My God,” she rasped. “It’s good. I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”
“Finally,” he said, and started pumping harder and faster.
The wet, hard-packed sand might have been a great surface for running, but the soft, powdery sand was a great surface for fucking. The sand adjusted to Claire’s backside–her spine, her butt, her legs, all of her–better than a Tempur-Pedic. She tightened her legs around the backs of his as he banged her.
They stared at each other, smiling as they fucked. It had been a long time, if ever, since Claire’s body had been so aroused, so indulged, so treasured, and now, so fucked. She had kept her beach refuge a secret for years, but now, despite her hesitation, her apprehension and her guilt, she was glad she had told Lonnie, glad he had shown up, and knew already in her heart and mind that Mondays like this would become a regular thing. She was already hooked.
Lonnie lifted Claire’s body with an arm around her lower back and jammed a finger up her ass. With a solid grip, he began slamming his cock into her at an angle, forcing it way up in there. Claire grunted, softly at first, then louder with each power drive. Her ass pummeled the sandy mat beneath her.
“You like this Claire?” Lonnie hissed, as he screwed her. She nodded. “No, you love it, don’t you? You love my cock. You love to fuck. You’re not really that shy church lady that runs the bookstore, are you? Naw, that’s all an act. Damn, you’re hot. You gonna come for me again? I wanna feel your cum down there, all around my cock. Gimme your…”
Claire screamed and her body thrashed in five different directions. “I’m coming!” she shrieked.
Lonnie lowered Claire down flat onto the towel and kept screwing her. She wheezed and moaned beneath him, and he felt a sudden, wet warmth surround his cock. He kept stroking, and reaming her behind, and just as her quivers subsided, he groaned himself, his balls emptied, and he shot his spasms of cum into her. Drained, he collapsed beside her.
Nothing was said for some time, they just held each other. Claire spoke first. She leaned up on one elbow and looked directly into his eyes.
“I’m glad I told you my secret,” she said.
“Me too,” Lonnie said. “I just cleared my schedule on Monday afternoons.”
He kissed her, they started making out again, his hands went down, seeking her sweet spot.
“You know what, I can’t believe it,” she said. “I have to tell you. I just had two incredible orgasms, like I can’t remember ever having, it’s like they washed over my body like a wave. Two! That’s two more than I usually have with my husband.”
“We better get working on number three.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s getting kind of late.”
“Then we better hurry.” He took her hand and pressed it to his cock, hard again. “See?”
He rolled on top, no debate. She grabbed it, stroked it, guided it back into her. They fucked again, softly at first, then even harder and louder than before, in a hurry. She came again with a wheezy yowl, and he came right behind.
It was time to wrap things up. It was late afternoon, and Claire had to get home, get a shower and whip up dinner before her husband got home. She didn’t want to raise any suspicions.
“You should run off down the beach, I’ll walk back by myself, if you don’t mind,” she said.
He got it. Her husband was a big fish in a small pond, the hotshot coach. Many people knew him, and would know her by association. They couldn’t be seen together.
Claire was ecstatic in one way, sad in another, as she watched him run off.
When Lonnie was about fifty yards away he turned and waved, and Claire waved back. He turned back around and continued running.
Claire watched him fade into the horizon and already missed him. His handsome face, his loving kisses, his arms around her, his cock inside her, her body reaching places it had never been before. And her orgasms, oh God, the orgasms. They were like earthquakes in her soul.
They both spent the following week thinking about each other. Lonnie was there the next Monday and the sex was even better, even more uninhibited for two naked people on the beach. They did their first sixty-nine, and Claire hit a triple on the orgasms again. She was a limp noodle on her walk back.
Later that week, Lonnie stopped into the store. He was hoping he could get her into the backroom and have a quickie, but there were customers and a couple of church people there, so he just waved and split.
On their third Monday afternoon, at one point, Claire was face-down and Lonnie was applying lotion to her back, and he got to her ass. As he rubbed and fingered her seductive flesh, slipping his fingers through her crack and pulling her cheeks apart in the process, he asked her a question.
“You ever had sex up here?” he said, as he slipped his fingertip into her asshole and wiggled it.
“What, anal?” she said, nonchalantly. “Sure. I went to college.” Then, after a long pause: “Why, do you want us to do that?”
“Well then, you better bring some lube next time. It’s been quite a while.”
After that, assfucking became a staple of their trysts. And to her own surprise, Claire found that she came just as hard, if not harder, with a dick up her ass, as she did with it anywhere else.
Over the next four months, they only missed three of their secret rendezvous. One because of bad weather, one because Claire went away on vacation, and one on Labor Day. There were a couple other times when the weather was iffy, and not conducive to swimming or sunbathing, but they met anyway. They wanted each other, so they met, and their genitals came out even if the sun didn’t.
Lonnie would stop into the store once a week, a lot more than he used to, but not often enough to raise suspicion. One time in the backroom, working on ad copy, they started making out, and Lonnie had a hand under her skirt and his fingers inside her. She was wet and he was hard, and he wanted to fuck her right there on the desk. But the bell sounded as a customer entered the store.
“We can’t do this here!” Claire whispered, as she straightened herself up.
“I’m sorry. I can’t resist you.”
She sent him out the backdoor and went up front to greet the customer. She was afraid to take him into the backroom after that.
Lonnie knew he was in love, but he couldn’t tell her, her life was complicated enough, and he knew he could never have her. The sex was incredible, but it wasn’t just that. They connected on so many levels. He loved her wit and sense of humor, and her earthiness. She seemed so genuine compared to most people he’d met. She got his jokes. Most of the women he’d been with hadn’t. Sure, she was older, but she seemed like the type of woman he’d always wanted to be with, even before he saw her on the beach that day.
He thought of Claire constantly. It saddened him to think of the loneliness she must have been feeling, and hiding, for who knows how long, every single day. He’d noticed bruises on some of the out-of-the-way places on her body, but hadn’t mentioned them. But she had an egocentric, abusive husband who had lost her and didn’t even know it. He’d put her on an island all by herself, to be rescued. That’s where the church came in, Lonnie figured. And maybe him, too.
Her orgasms were so intense. And she is so appreciative, like they are coming from outside of her, and not within. But she’s so sensual, every nerve ending she has is hot-wired, crackling, on the verge of shorting out. Her climaxes were like five kinds of rain: They could be drizzles or spritzes or showers or downpours. Or even a flash flood, like the time, after not seeing each other for two weeks, she had exploded as soon as he’d touched her down there.
It became harder for Lonnie to catch Claire alone at the store. There were customers, of course, but there were also others he’d never encountered before. There were church people, groups of bible school kids, and the occasional sales rep. Usually he just waved, said he would check her later and left.
A couple of times she signaled him over and introduced him to people from her church. One time it was the treasurer, a skinny old bald guy named Morris, who was very cordial and complimentary of the promotions Lonnie had put together for the store. Morris is the one who tracked the results and signed the checks, so Lonnie was happy to meet him, and was happy he was happy.
Another time, he called on Claire and there was a large, black man behind the counter with her. He was good-looking, tall and broad-shouldered, maybe forty, and dressed impeccably in a black suit and a bright red necktie. Lonnie figured he was another sales rep giving her a pitch, but he wasn’t.
“Hi, Lonnie,” Claire said. “This is Reginald. He’s our assistant pastor. Reginald, this is Lonnie. He designs our mail promotions.”
“Hello, Lonnie,” Reginald said, as they shook hands. “Glad to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.”
“Reginald is relatively new at church, just a couple months, and he came by to see the store, and I’ve been showing him around,” Claire said. “Not that there’s that much to see, though.”
They made small talk for a couple minutes more before Lonnie excused himself. Reginald had been very complimentary about the promotions, just as Morris had been, and that made Lonnie feel good. He said he would follow-up with Claire the next week, and left.
All through the summer, Claire and Lonnie spent their Monday afternoons together on the beach. Once a week they’d arrive at their spot separately, ravenous for each other. The sex could be slow and loving, or hard and fast, but it was always good. And adventurous. Both being athletic creatures, they found new angles and positions for all of their devilry, and did things they never expected to do. Lonnie had never stuck his tongue up a girl’s ass before Claire, but he stuck it up hers, and liked it. Claire returned the favor too, licking his salty, sweaty ass and balls after his three mile run up the beach and a dip in the ocean. Her orgasms were often and intense, Lonnie’s cock was like a lightning rod inside her, in her mouth, her pussy, or up her ass, it didn’t matter, she fucked him hard, knowing she would come.
As September rolled around, the weather was still warm and sultry. They kept their Monday dates, but Lonnie sensed a change in Claire. They’d kiss and fuck and lick and suck just like always, but it felt different. It was not quite as fervent, something was off. Claire seemed to be distant, distracted, not all there. Lonnie mentioned it a couple times, but she said things were fine. It was football season, and her husband always got very intense, he had tunnel vision, didn’t care about anything but the team and its next game, it’s okay, not to worry. It seemed like a lame defense, but Lonnie didn’t argue.
Then, on the last Monday of the month, Lonnie took his usual Monday afternoon run, northward up the beach from town to their secret spot. And Claire wasn’t there. He sat on the beach for forty-five minutes, waiting. She didn’t show. Something was wrong. He ran hard, back to town, concerned and bewildered.
Lonnie went to the store the next day, and then later in the week, and missed her both times. The lady filling in said that Claire was taking a few days off, and suggested he try again the next week. So he did.
The following Tuesday was the fourth of October, Lonnie’s birthday. He dropped by the store in the morning right after it opened. Claire came out of the backroom where she was sorting through the mail. She saw Lonnie and smiled as he approached, but Lonnie noticed it was much weaker than the grin she usually greeted him with.
“Hi, Lonnie,” she called.
“Claire, hi, how are you doing?” he said. “I’ve been worried.”
“Yes. I went to our beach spot last Monday and you never showed up. You never told me you weren’t going to be there, and that isn’t like you. I was afraid something bad had happened.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry about that. I forgot all about it.”
“Forgot all about it? How could you forget about it? We’ve been going there on Monday afternoons for months!”
“I know, please forgive me. I should have called you, but…” She hesitated. “I totally forgot. There’s been, uh, a lot on my mind. I haven’t been myself.”
“What does that mean? Is everything okay at home?”
“I’m pregnant,” she murmured, and began to cry softly. She pulled a tissue from a box behind the counter and dabbed her eyes.
Lonnie was one scintilla short of anaphylactic shock. He was blindsided, speechless. He had no idea what to say. Finally he started babbling.
“Gee, Claire. I uh, I don’t know what to say. I’m… I’m stunned.”
He had a million thoughts ping-ponging around in his head like it was an atom smasher. What’s she going to do, is it his, what does her husband think, do you want to keep it, do you not want to keep it, what about us, how do you feel, what about your parents, what about his? But it all seemed so trivial at the moment, no question would be appropriate or tactful, and she probably didn’t have the answers anyway. She must have been reading his mind.
She spoke softly. “Lonnie, I’ve loved the time we’ve spent together the last few months. It’s been wonderful, almost like a dream. But we can’t see each other anymore. I’m going to have a baby, and I don’t know who the father is. But going by the numbers alone, the odds are it’s not my husband. It’s scary.”
“How does he feel about it?”
“He acts like he’s happy, but I’m not so sure. I think it’s just that: an act. He thinks a child will cramp his style. We’ve talked about having children in the past, but not for a long time. It took him by complete surprise.”
“How did it…” Lonnie started, but knew instantly how lame he sounded.
“Don’t ask,” she said.
“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“No, there’s nothing you can do. Let’s just hope the baby looks like my husband.”
He left without a kiss or a hug, but he held her hand for a moment and squeezed, and let her know to call him if he could help, or just needed to talk. She said she would, but he knew she wouldn’t.
What a shitty birthday present, he thought.
Lonnie went back to the store in November, just to see if they wanted to run their holiday promotion. Claire wasn’t there. The temp from the church told him Claire had taken a leave of absence. And she didn’t know anything about advertising or promotion or marketing or whatever you call it, he should call the church. He called the church, left a voicemail for Morris. He never heard back, so he dropped it.
He missed her. Not a day, a half a day, or even an hour went by when he didn’t think of her. He relived their loving so many times it was like a continuous loop in his brain. He could feel her, could taste her. He thought about how lonely she must be, with her secret, their secret, eating away at her conscience. So, this is love, he thought, when my gut aches in radiating swirls. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Love sucks.
Over the winter he avoided the book store. He dated a couple gals, but they didn’t compare, were big wastes of time. He ticked off the days of the calendar, wondering when would Claire be due? He had no clear idea, really, he could only guess at when the lucky sperm found its way to her promised land. He did the math, and the baby could be due anytime in the spring.
In mid-April, he went back to the store, just curious, and he lucked out. There was a different woman minding the store. Her name was Wilma, and she was the epitome of a stereotypical church lady: Old, gray-haired, thin as a rail, in a dress that hung to her ankles, and was a gossip who loved to talk. She knew the whole story. Lonnie and Claire had kept a big secret. But it turned out Claire had another big secret of her own.
Wilma didn’t hold back, it was as if she’d been waiting for the chance to spout off.
“If you’re looking for that blonde girl who used to run this store, you won’t find her here no more,” she said. “She’s been terminated, and she won’t be back, they’re selling their house and everything. She had a baby, and it didn’t belong to her husband, and that’s for sure. It’s an embarrassment. Embarrassing to her, embarrassing to the husband, although he’s no prize, and an embarrassment for the church too. Imagine, everybody coming from all over for the birth, the grandparents, the family and friends, only to find out she had a black baby! I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that scene. And they fired that assistant pastor too, and it’s a good thing. He was a no-good, was messing around with a couple other young white girls in the church too. Hopefully they don’t end up with black babies too.”
Lonnie couldn’t believe what he was he was hearing. She kept on, but after a point it all went in one ear and out the other. He left the store in a daze. He sat in his car for a long while, thinking. How long was she seeing the preacher? When did it start, how long did it go on? He didn’t notice anything different about her until the very end. How did he not pick up on something? Was he so focused their sex on the beach that he missed all the clues? Or was she so focused on their sex because she was trying to block out the preacher, and felt even guiltier because she was cheating on the guy she was already cheating with?
Lonnie had a strange feeling, and he couldn’t control it. After all the months of thinking about Claire and the turmoil she was going through, of despising her husband, of being on edge, of not liking the way their relationship had ended, and of hoping he wasn’t the father of her baby, now, and he could hardly believe it, he wished he was.
He couldn’t concentrate on his work, so he drove around aimlessly for a while. He drove by Claire’s house–or to be more accurate, former house–and sure enough there was a for-sale sign out front. The place was abandoned, but was a nice house, a one-story stucco with a red tile roof, a well-trimmed lawn and hedges along the front and what looked to be a pool cage in the back.
Lonnie still couldn’t get her out of his head. His stomach ached, he couldn’t eat, he jerked off at night.
He called Morris at the church and left a voicemail asking him to please call back, it was about the contract the church had with his company. He really wanted to find out more about Claire, but the message did its job and he got a callback.
Morris asked if the bookstore could pull out of the contract. He said the church was in a state of confusion, they didn’t know who was running the store one day to the next, and he had no idea when they’d find a permanent replacement to manage the place. Lonnie told him that would not be a problem. He didn’t care about that. He wanted to know about Claire.
“It’s a shame, it really is, Lonnie,” Morris said. “She’s a fine woman, everybody liked her. Can’t say much for her husband, but she was the cat’s meow. Did a good job at the store, too. Too bad she got hooked up with Reginald. I had a bad feeling about that guy from the get-go.”
“How did that happen?”
“Not for sure, but he got her under his spell somehow, her and a couple other white gals. Must have had a way with the women, I guess. How he juggled them, I have no idea.”
“Do you know where Claire is now?”
“Staying with her parents for a while, as I understand it.”
“Do you have a phone number for her?”
“No, I don’t. I just have an address. It’s to send her her… uh, to forward any mail she might get at the church.”
“Could I have the address? I’d like to touch base with her. I dealt with her for nearly three years, and then bingo, she was gone. I’d like to talk to her, say hi, at least.”
“Well, I’m not supposed to do that. But under the circumstances, I think it would be alright. I don’t have it right now, I’m at my real job. I have it at my office at the church. I’ll email it to you.”
“Thank you, Morris, that’s very kind of you. Since I heard about what happened, I’ve thought about what that poor lady has been going through.”
“I know what you mean,” Morris said. “Give her my best when you talk to her.”
Yeah right, Lonnie thought, as they ended the call.
Lonnie was running down the beach toward their secret spot. As he approached he saw his lover Claire, lying on her beach towels, naked. She was beckoning to him, and he picked up his pace. When he got close he slowed to a walk and noticed that her suntan was darker and richer than ever, a more striking contrast to her beach blonde hair. Then he stood in front of her, looked down at her exquisite body, and saw that it wasn’t her suntan at all. Claire was black.
“Come on, Honey,” she said, reaching for his shorts. “Take these off and make love to me before high tide. It’s rolling in now and soon we’ll be under water.”
She pulled down his shorts and he was instantly on the blanket beside her, kissing her. He felt her tongue slither in his mouth, and her black hand wrapped around his burgeoning cock. He was soon kissing her neck, her shoulders, her swelled breasts, and finally her shaved black twat.
“Ooh yes, baby, that’s it. Eat my pussy. Then you can fuck it. Uh huh. Uh huh, that’s it baby. Eat that black pussy.”
Lonnie was licking and eating and sucking her cunt, her lips, and her clit, which was as plump as an overcooked okra. She was pink on the inside, contrasting her dark skin, which seemed to make him dive into it with extra gusto. The cold salt water was rising on the beach, he now could feel it on his feet.
His dick was big and hard, and he rubbed it against the towel as he tongue-fucked her. It didn’t take long. Her twat was like an oozing, juicy fruit.
“Here I come, Baby,” she barked at him.
She came on his face with a feral force, and he tasted her slimy zest, her throbbing torso was a moving target.
The seawater reached the towels, each wave washing over their ankles before it ebbed.
“Fuck me, Baby. Put your white cock in my black pussy. I want your sperm inside me, so I can have your baby. A white baby, or half-white baby. I don’t care what my husband thinks, or what anybody else thinks, or if the baby looks different, give me your white seed…”
Claire’s body was writhing, back and forth, up and down, and Lonnie’s cock was following her pussy around as best it could, but she wouldn’t hold still long enough for him to be able to put it in. A small wave washed over their thighs.
“Put your cock in me!” she said, with raised voice. “Give me your white cock NOW!”
He lunged at her pussy one more time and missed, and he ejaculated into thin air, multiple shots of his cum landing on her legs, the towel, and the receding surf.
Then Lonnie lost it, her image was gone. He woke up in a sweat, not sure where he was for a moment. Then he recognized his bedroom. The clock on his nightstand read 3:31 a.m. What a crazy dream, he thought, what a deep sleep. He didn’t dream that often, and when he did it was usually superficial and he knew he was dreaming, but not this time. It all seemed so real. Scary real. He felt wetness down below. He reached into his boxers and they were soaked with his cum.
Lonnie stared at the ceiling, thinking about two things he had to do. One, he needed to go the bathroom and clean himself up. And two, he had to find her.
Over the next week or so, Lonnie learned a few interesting tidbits.
The first one was was about Claire’s husband. It was in the news. He was fired by the school system. The coach was pissed off at halftime of a big rivalry game. They were behind by two touchdowns at home, and he decided to curse out his team and slap around one of his players who had screwed up an assignment on one of the scores. It was all caught on the camera of somebody’s cell phone. He was remorseful and apologetic, and blamed it on the stress he was under with his impending divorce, but it didn’t hold much water. He was toast.
The second was about the assistant pastor. Lonnie had a friend he had grown up with who worked for a security firm. His name was Mike. He asked him for some help looking into this now-gone assistant pastor. Mike discovered that good old Reginald had a pretty wicked background.
“This guy’s a real piece of work, Lonnie,” Mike said. “He’s never been busted, just a couple complaints and one sexual harassment accusation that didn’t stick. This is at least the third church, that I could find, in three different states, where he’s left under a cloud. And of course the churches all keep everything hush-hush. Always the same, sex with white women, eight that we know of, and at least two were impregnated, and there could be others because a couple of them dropped out of sight. But he said they all were consensual, and it couldn’t be proven otherwise. Some of the women wouldn’t talk, and the ones that did couldn’t remember things. He’d sweet-talk them, get them into his office, supposedly to help him with church stuff, they’d have a glass of wine, next thing you know he’s seducing them, touching them, and then they’re having sex. Maybe drugged them. Smooth, slippery guy, all in the name of God. He’s probably in another state applying for minister jobs as we speak.”
Lonnie was flabbergasted at the news. “Wow, that’s incredible, Mike. Thank you for that. Send me the bill and I’ll happily pay it.”
“Nah, forget it, happy to help. It didn’t take up that much time, and it was fun. This guy Reginald is a bad apple. Good thing he’s not an ax murderer.”
It was a warm, clear Thursday, and Lonnie blew off work for the afternoon. Morris had emailed him the address as promised, and Lonnie was going to go a-calling. Claire’s parents lived in an upscale, gated community, about fifteen miles west of town. Horse country.
Lonnie didn’t have the gate code so he had to hang around close by until another vehicle entered, and he followed it through the gate. It took him a while to find the address, the lanes wound around and through the trees, circled here and dead-ended there, but when found the place he was quite impressed. It was a large brick Colonial, with a three car garage and two pillars out front, sitting up on a rise and covered by a canopy of oak.
He parked on the street, walked up to the front door and rang the bell. The door soon opened and he was greeted by an attractive woman, perhaps in her mid-fifties, slim with short, grayish blonde hair and dressed in jeans.
“Hi, my name is Lonnie,” he said. “I’m sorry to drop by unexpectedly. I’m a friend of Claire’s. I was told that she was staying here with you, and…”
“You’re a friend of Claire’s?”
“What kind of friend?”
“I used to call on her at the bookstore. Then she was gone, and then after a while they said she wasn’t coming back. I was concerned about her, and they had this address…”
“You’re concerned about her?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I know it’s strange to knock on your door clear out of the blue like this…”
“Wait here,” she said, and closed the door. A couple minutes later the door reopened. She said, “Take the path around to the back of the garage. She’s in the guesthouse.”
Claire was waiting at the door when he turned the corner behind the garage. She was a beautiful site for his suddenly watery eyes. She wore white cotton shorts and a yellow, short-sleeved top, was barefoot, and of course, tanned. Her hair was longer, and tied back. She looked thinner, especially in her face. She seemed surprised, and gave him her shy smile, even if it did look a little tired. Lonnie didn’t know exactly what to say, so he hugged her. She was stiff at first, but soon her body relaxed and he felt her arms curl around him. He held her for a long, frozen moment.
She led him inside. There was a living area and a small eat-in kitchen. A hallway led to what he presumed was the bathroom and bedroom. They sat in chairs in front of a large window facing the oaks.
“How did you find me?” Claire asked.
“Morris gave me the address. He said he wasn’t supposed to, but he did. I charmed him into it.”
Claire smiled. “You always were a charmer. Charmed me, that’s for sure.”
“I think the charms went both ways with us.”
“So, what brings you way out here to the country? I didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because I figured you thought I was some kind of whore. That’s what most people think.”
“Oh no, no, no, Claire, don’t think that, I don’t think that. I don’t think that at all, please believe that.” Lonnie licked his lips and slid his butt forward on his chair. “I was surprised at first, probably in shock, because you stood me up on the beach that day, and then told me you were pregnant and we couldn’t see each other anymore. I was twisting in the wind for months, hoping I wasn’t the father, hoping your husband was, just so it wouldn’t make your life miserable. But then when I finally found out, long after, that your husband was not the father, but somebody else was, I, uh…”
Lonnie’s shoulders sagged, he looked down at the floor.
He raised his head, looked her in the eye. “I wished your baby was mine.”
Claire stood up, looked out the window at the hanging strands of Spanish moss wiggling in the breeze. She turned to face him.
“Really?” she asked, incredulously.
“Yes, really,” he said. “I didn’t look you up and drive out here to annoy your mother and lie to you.”
“Huh,” she said as she sat back down. “Don’t worry about Mom, she’s just being protective. She must have sensed something good about you or she would have sent you packing.”
They both chuckled. Claire asked Lonnie if he would like some iced tea. He accepted, assuming that was a good sign. She left, came back with two tall tumblers and placed them on the table between them, and sat down.
“I’ve missed you,” Lonnie said, after sipping his tea.
“I’ve missed you, too,” she said. “It was nice of you to come. Very unexpected, but very nice.”
“So, tell me. Despite all that you’ve been through, how are you really doing?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Okay, I guess. Just taking it a day at a time. Learning a lot of new things. How to be a mother, how to be a divorcee, how to forgive myself for being so stupid…”
“Claire, look,” Lonnie said, “You have to give yourself a break. I have a friend who is a detective and he did a little research on that pastor. Reginald is not a good man. He found two other churches in two other states where he did the same thing, used God and the church to seduce and manipulate attractive young white women, and he got run out of town from all of them. And you’re not the only one who got pregnant. The guy is smooth, I could tell that when I met him, he knows how to say all the right things. But he is a sleazeball. He’s a predator, and you were one of his victims. My friend said he thought the guy probably drugged the women somehow too.”
“Really?” Claire said softly. “Hmm.”
“I’ve thought about that,” she said. “I didn’t say anything because I thought it would just sound like an excuse.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I couldn’t remember things. He took an interest in the store, and then asked me to help him with some things after church on Sundays. I said okay, because my husband always played golf on Sunday afternoons anyway.”
“Help you with what things?”
“Choosing materials for the study groups, stuff like that. That was kind of vague, I guess now we know why. But I was flattered that he took my position seriously and wanted my input. I’d go to his office, we’d have wine. He always had wine ready. He came on to me. I still can’t believe I put myself in that position, but I responded to it, let it happen. I remember nodding out a couple times, would wake up on the couch in his office. He must have given me something. He was very anti-birth control too, fanatically so. He asked me to bring my birth control pills with me once. He washed them down the drain, said I didn’t need them. I was shocked. He said, ‘It’s God’s will, throw away the pill’.” Can you believe that?”
Lonnie shook his head. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. At least it’s over now, and you can heal, recover.”
“Yeah. That explains why the church is paying me a lot of money. They don’t want me to sue them.”
“Well, there you go. So stop beating yourself up. Think of positive things. Like this house here, it’s a nice place to live in.”
“I’m lucky in that way, yes. This guesthouse is rarely used, so my parents said I could move in. Not easy being so close, but it’s just temporary. Till I figure out was comes next. I guess you heard about my husband.”
“Yes. The consensus around town is that is couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
Claire just nodded, shrugged, and they sat in silence for a moment. Then the sound of a baby crying came from a back room.
She looked at Lonnie, and said: “Want to meet Oliver?”
“Sure. I’d love to meet Oliver.”
He followed her into the bedroom, and over to the crib by the window. He looked down at the baby. His dark skin, curly black hair, wide nose.
“Cute little guy,” Lonnie said. “He’s got my ears.”
Claire laughed, and put her hand on his shoulder as she did so. It was the first time they’d touched since their initial hug when Lonnie arrived.
“You are funny,” she said. “Want to hold him?”
“I’m not sure I know how.”
“Oh, sure you do.” She picked up Oliver and handed him to Lonnie. “Here, like this.”
He held Oliver daintily in his arms for a minute. The baby went from fussing to smiling.
“He likes you,” Claire said. “But I have to change his diaper. I’ll just be a minute.”
Lonnie went back to the living room, sat down and drank the rest of his tea. Claire returned with Oliver and his bottle. She sat down to feed him. The phone rang.
“Do you mind?” she said, handing the baby to Lonnie. He fed the baby while she answered the phone.
“Hello, Mom…Yes, everything is fine…I know…We’ve been talking…It’s okay, Mom…Okay, bye.”
“Dear old Mom,” Claire said, taking the baby back. “Looking out for her only daughter.”
“That’s what good moms do.” He looked at his watch. He was surprised to see that they’d been talking for nearly two hours. He rose. “Well, it’s probably time I got going.”
“Lonnie, you don’t have to. My mom is just cautious and overprotective.”
“No, it’s okay, I understand. I came here unexpectedly, and I appreciate that she let me see you. And I appreciate this time we had together, and the opportunity to see you again.”
They walked to the door.
“May I ask you one question before I go?” Lonnie said.
“Of course,” Claire said, half happy and half scared.
“Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”
Her eyes widened, her lips pursed. “Really? Yes, I’d love to. When?”
“How about Monday? That always was our day.”
Claire smiled, said, “I think that’s perfect.”
“Can you get a sitter?”
“I think Mom would jump at the chance. She wants to protect me, but she wants me to get out more, too.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up at six. I know a nice, funky little place on the river, far from town.”
“Sounds just right,” she said, with a sigh.
“Good. I’ll see you then.” He leaned in and kissed Claire on her cheek, then kissed Oliver on his forehead. “Looking forward to it.”
He went out the door and walked to his car, half giddy. He meandered through the maze of the neighborhood until he found the gate. He hit the highway and headed home.
He felt like a schoolboy on prom night, floating on air. As he drove home, his mind was only partly on driving. It was mostly on Claire. He thought about how they met, and how well they worked together, and how she shared her secret with him, and how they met on the beach on Mondays. And how many times they’d kissed and licked and sucked and fucked and held each other. And now finally, after all of that, come Monday they would be going out on their first date.