0 comments/ 13832 views/ 0 favorites Scenes from the Beach By: RetMarut The American trio split two rooms. Nancy Kirkwood and Kathy Peck together in one, Paul Lowery occupied the other. Their respective balconies looked over the Costa Garraf sand onto the Mediterranean Sea. Viewed from the third floor, those slight waves purling upon the shore reminded Lowery of the shallow bight stretching from San Diego to Oceanside. On a calm day, the sort which fooled Easterners like himself into believing the Pacific perfectly tame. A mutual friend had proposed the Costa Garraf beachfront to Kathy and Nancy. If one needed to be holed up somewhere, this semi-luxe Spanish hideout served as fine refuge. Merely because they were intimates let Nancy ask Lowery to accompany them. His immediately agreeing likely vanished any doubts Nancy might've held about him or how he saw her relations with Kathy. Until her needy hour, Kathy only tolerated Lowery. Now that he stood beside her, she fully accepted him. His gesture defined him. They weren't rivals, but equals for the sexually malleable Nancy. He could be trusted. A woman problem required Lowery to abruptly request vacation time, interrupted Nancy's triathlete training, as well as forced Kathy's rumor-spouting sudden withdrawal from at least two golf tournaments. Lowery wondered if the other two understood that had Kathy been male and encountered the same difficulty, some badge of guy honor might've been awarded. Yet that was the problem's crux: Kathy, a woman, troublingly entwined with another woman. Before surrendering body and soul to Nancy, Kathy had involved herself in a previously truly, madly, deeply affair. Owing to the golfer's celebrity, and the American public's fossilized ideas concerning how its idols shall comport themselves, the pair consorted discreetly. So down low sponsors, who realized fortunes in exploiting the golfer's burnished gold wholesome female athleticism -- no absurd hairstyle, no frightening tattoos or piercing, muscular, yes, but not freakishly overdeveloped to the point of confusing her gender, beauty bland enough not to intimidate -- offered the kind of reassuring presence the right ad campaigns mined to sell galleries of consumer goods. Not only was Kathy Peck a stalwart on the ladies pro golf tour, but, yes, she did sleep on these sheets, washed her long sorrel tresses with that shampoo and conditioner, drove this car, while also preferring to snack on those low calorie treats. America bought that Kathy Peck. That Kathy Peck appeared a proper female athlete. Somehow the image of her eating or being serviced by another woman, using toys or having them used on her by a female intimate, and sensitive emails excruciatingly substantiated by that now jilted lover, eradicated an otherwise pitch-perfect, safe, antiseptic pitchwoman. Graphic as the sex might've been, it was with whom she indulged which would've lent the matter the most unsavory taste, an unpalatable reflux for the vast white bread market. After a lengthy quiet period, the kind where the past wasn't buried or forgotten, but honed into needle-sharp revenge and waited ahead in ambush, Kathy's ex-lover presented an ultimatum. Her either/or meant loss. Nancy or privacy. Thus the burrowing into an obscure part of Spain. There, Nancy and Lowery supported Kathy while she crept up on her big-girl decision. All three already suspected the judgment. Presentation remained the only question. In this Costa Garraf idyll Kathy could fairly hide out openly. Moreover, the relatively somnambulant pace assured little distraction. In August gays predominated this seaside redoubt. Had Kathy been a tennis player, and not a golfer, an American one at that, she might've earned more than brief glances. Unlike Lowery, who reaped long and lingering prize bull consideration. Such attention failed swelling either head. The American friends occupied adjoining rooms. Those first few nights of the scheduled week intrigued Lowery. His imagination swirled around the couple next door. Was Nancy as physical with Kathy as she was with him? How did Kathy sate the triathlete? Or did the pair achieve a more emotional compact? Better yet did they reenact sloppy scenes from girl-on-girl porno DVDs? The last query made him laugh. However, once he truly thought about it, Lowery preferred her lover and his partner gained gratification through tenderness. Would it be Nancy's long, hard, brown body constricting Kathy's rounder butterscotch form or the other way around? Who'd dominate between them? Who was the most ardent? Of course his was a straight man's view. As women, maybe they'd instinctively work out some mutual passive accommodation. Lowery knew genuine sentiment would lard their little whispers. A man parroted what he believed further mollified women. On the other hand, women lacked this deception during sex. Women surrendered to lost restraint. Those secrets, those truths they intended keeping hidden invariably seeped to the surface. Admitted as it were, if not confessed. Often reluctantly yet with relief. Nape of the neck, ears, elbow crooks, belly, bend of the knee, inside the thigh, tendons where they hollowed into the between legs crevice, which of them, Nancy or Kathy, excited these vulnerable spots with the best care and calculation? Then again which one found herself in the most languid throes when soft lips and gentle fingers caressed these unlikely pleasure points? Despite the pretty pictures rampaging inside his head, Lowery conceded his ideal of Sapphic expression way off the mark. There had to be some happy medium because skeletal pneumatic bottle blondes yelping in phony ecstasy from tongue tips barely tickling the other's pink or moaning lustily while an outrageous strap-on cored an asshole was lazy application as well as deceitful fantasy. Having bung-plowed, Lowery at least knew what noises the other end's mouth coughed. Moaning was low on the list. Nonetheless it was Kathy and Nancy wrinkling the sheets and heating up the room next door. The vision of those two hugging, stroking and lip-locking, perhaps even passing shy but transparent looks, aroused him. He'd never experienced heat from a woman's body like Nancy's. Was this manifestation caused by his male proximity or did she generate the same rise among women? Contemplation of such produced some of the hardest boners in his life. Lowery promised himself that one day soon they must discuss relative sexual merits. Who knew? Maybe he'd learn something. Improve a technique, no? A knock on the door startled Lowery. When he wasn't wondering how Kathy reflected in Nancy's copper eyes, or how Nancy shone in Kathy's gray irises, Lowery skimmed the Barcelona newspaper. Today he'd bought the correct edition, the Castilian one. Their first full day he'd mistakenly grabbed a Catalan copy. His Spanish couldn't bridge the regional dialect. By the knock, Lowery knew his visitor wasn't a hotel employee. The rap sounded nowhere near deferential. Probably some fellow guest engaged in a process of elimination after having either forgotten or misplaced the particulars of an earlier casually made acquaintance. Or maybe somebody just out to get lucky. Lowery rolled off the bed. He swiped his shorts off the writing table chair back an covered his thighs. Forgetting a basic rule, he went to the door, opening it without asking who stood outside. Kathy looked up at him. She requested entry. He moved aside. Her short-sleeved blouse, culottes and espadrilles entered far enough to allow him to close the door. Lowery never expected them to be together without Nancy. After all, Nancy was Kathy's crying shoulder, also her sounding board. He figured his role consisted of masculine presence so the women wouldn't suffer molestation. In the Spanish sense. Kathy hoped she hadn't interrupted anything. "No," Lowery said. "Just reading in the local paper how everything is going to hell and glad I don't live here to pay for any of it." Kathy smiled thinly at his little drollery. It was her first unforced grin. He hoped it wasn't accidental. She strode towards the sliding screen balcony door. After an idle moment, Kathy faced Lowery. "No air conditioning?" she said. He shook his head. "Once the sun goes down the breeze picks up. That's enough for me. Besides, when you can hear the waves over the music it's soothing." "Nancy has the AC blasting," Kathy said. "I find it incredible she's unaffected by workouts that make her sweat like a mule, but insists on frigid rooms." "I'm unfamiliar with that Nancy." "Oh, yes, right," Kathy said, somewhat apologetically. "Anyway, you're right. The sea breeze is enough." She began fidgeting. Never having the need previously, these two hadn't really ever spoken. Nancy explained to each how he or she fit in her life. Both parties obviously accepted her terms. Therefore, neither felt obliged to clarify it between themselves. Each respective relationship with Nancy filled divergent aspects. Until this trip those aspects never overlapped. Lowery became a good host. He offered Kathy a drink and a seat. She took both. Once he'd gotten his legs under him in Spain, Lowery found a liquor store and bought a fifth of bourbon. As a hotelier himself, the thought of forking over extortion prices for the room's mini-bar alcohol insulted him. Frugal as he was, the small refrigerator's soda forced him into one tough compromise. Two fingers of "imported" spirits (all the way from that exotic oasis of Kentucky, America!), ice and cola enough to deepen the color though not appreciably dilute any tongue-loosening filled the heavy squat glass. After handing Kathy her drink, Lowery sat on the bed edge. The short gap between them permitted easy glass touching. He issued his usual toast: "Happy times!" Lowery liked how Kathy nipped at her drink. Not that if she'd gulped he would've thought ill of her. It was just simply Lowery preferred women who exhibited certain lady-like traits. The manner of sipping a cocktail being one. He asked if Nancy slept. "Like a log," Kathy said. "All the walking around we did today, plus insisting on running a few miles in these hills, and she's dead to the world." "Isn't strange that unlike most people asleep she doesn't seem at peace?" Lowery asked. Grinning, Kathy bobbed her head. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks the same. I think her subconscious is upset that so much time needs to be devoted to absolute inactivity. There are some days where she does more than I do in a week." "Well, this proves you two are a good match," Lowery said. "Two different people can always uncover new and interesting things in the other." They nipped their drinks. While they exchanged appraisals only ice cubes tinkling in glasses and sea lapping upon sand filtered through the room's silence. Kathy spoke. "For the longest time I took you for a rival. That was a mistake." Lowery asked her current estimation of him. "Since we're not competitors, we must be complementary," Kathy said. "We provide Nancy with different things. Take them, too. I mean in more than obvious ways." He shrugged. "What can I say? The woman has an unlimited appetite." "She's a glutton!" Kathy said. An awkward beat or two, she added, "Which, uh, is one of the reasons I knocked on your door." "And here I was hoping you just came over to keep me company. You know, tuck me into bed." She heard Lowery's facetiousness and smiled thinly. "Uh-huh. That's certainly on the list. Low. But on it. No, Paul, I, uh, hoped you'd indulge me." Lowery raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Mirth in his voice compelled a grin from Kathy. "In a charming way you're making this awful tough on me," she said. "You and Nancy certainly share that ability." He suggested she start from the beginning. "You were born ... Okay. Maybe not from the very beginning. How about where the contention starts?" Kathy's demeanor now thoughtful, she answered, "Contentious? Good word for the right point." As she explained, their society only made grudging initial concessions to those whose sexuality deviated from form. To a man and a woman, every person joyously "out" needed to endure doubt and fright exceptionally few straights could imagine. "I hate the word 'normal,'" Kathy said. " 'Normal' is right down there with average." Perhaps in a congested urban area her tastes could've been anonymously explored and developed among a variety of similarly-minded people; she not so much lost in the swirl but rendered indistinct by the sheer number and activity. Instead, Kathy Peck grew up in rural Oregon. A small town where white-picket fence friendliness and no-knock neighborliness infringed into intrusiveness. "It's funny how lifelong friends and neighbors suddenly turn after they see you coloring outside the lines," she said. Lowery nodded in agreement. He also knew about conformity. His own hometown, the people who mattered residing there, insisted upon it. "Lucky I had golf," Kathy said. "Winning blurs a lot of scrutiny." Habitual victories in local and regional high school and 18-under tournaments led to a pick of college scholarships. One of which provided escape. Or entry into less confining associations. "As sure as I was of my game, is how uncomfortable I felt about myself," Kathy said. "It's a horrible thing to be conflicted in your own skin." Kathy Peck endured those common first sexual fumblings with more anguish than confusion. Aroused by the distaff and indifferent to males complicated her girl-into-woman transformation. Such early recognition only perfected skills at masking true desire. However, these personal subterfuges failed miserably when time to perform her expected gender role. "I knew early on who I liked," she said, "what I liked. None of that experimental bullshit. Then I was nowhere near sure of myself to display the label. You know, the old pink triangle. So I faked going after boys harder than if I were a sorority sister chasing a trust-funder's M.R.S." On the whole, Kathy's "dating" was disastrous. Worse, dissatisfying. Seemed she had the misfortune of attracting eager fellows whose bedroom antics lacked touch. "Even though I preferred women, I knew men could still be enjoyable," she said. "Physically at least. But, uh, every man disappointed me far more than the cock he was attached to." "That's a bad connection, all right," Lowery said. "Naturally it was all their faults. The guys, I mean." "Naturally," she chirped. "My ego wouldn't allow any conclusion otherwise." They shared wry grins. Returning to seriousness, Kathy continued. "We each do something for Nancy. We make her whole. I hope that doesn't sound incredibly immodest." "If you're old enough to comprehend the Beatles, then you know the love you give matches the love you get," Lowery said. "Or something like that." "I better confess then Nancy's the song that makes my heart skip," Kathy said. "Was that saccharin on the way to diabetes honest?" "Sure was," Lowery replied. "Sweet and undoubtedly true, too." "Paul, in our beginning I didn't like sharing you with her. At the start you were an infringement. Never mind the conflicting schedules and travel. You were my biggest worry. I almost resented you." "Now here we are having a heart-to-heart," Lowery said. "What happened? How did I become safe? Or are you imagining me neutered?" Kathy laughed. "Spectators don't understand it but the best thing about being a competitor isn't the stakes. Giving and taking shit is. That's the quality, Paul. Has there ever been any life and death for you? ... You're so at ease. Nancy's intense. I've heard I'm robotic." "Having seen you putt ..." Lowery said. She ignored his jibe. "Nancy talks about you. About how you drive her. I thought about being jealous. Instead I got curious. Mentioning you as she does, she probably planted a bug. An unintentional subliminal thing." "You think?" he asked. "What's Nancy selling?" "You." "Kathy, are you here to sacrifice yourself to envy or prove some depth of affection for Nancy? Either way we'd just be going through the motions. Good motions, but routine all the same." "For me, Paul. I'd be doing it for me." Lowery remained undecided. "Are you going to make me beg, Paul? Is that part of what makes it so good?" Her insistence cleared his mind. Lowery smiled and the shade across Kathy's face lifted. He reached out for her hand. She placed steady fingers on his palm. He clasped them. The pair stood and Lowery drew her to him. Willing as Kathy professed, he nonetheless felt her slightest resistance in their embrace. He kissed her smooth forehead, nose, then lips. The luscious last spot responded cautiously. Anxiety vied with minor fright in her gray eyes. Oh-so perceptively Kathy tensed in his arms. Having known many women across many years, the possible challenge Kathy presented failed daunting Lowery. Paul Lowery loosened his hold. Apart, hands free, he caressed her earlobes, stroked her neck and rubbed her shoulders. Despite the situation, Kathy smiled reflexively. Lowery unhitched his shorts. They dropped and he stepped out of the cloth accordion circling his ankles. She received his nakedness silently. He retrieved their glasses then padded over to the bourbon. While gathering and disbursing ice and freshening their drinks with more cheer and soda, he spoke. "While I'm doing this take your clothes off." Lowery's command thawed Kathy. She heeled out of her espadrilles, then freed her body of blouse and culottes. Her panties surprised him. These clashed with her bra. Though both undergarments were white, two ample handfuls strained an artful, lacy, modern woven balcony; whereas old maid drawers bagged around her hips. He assumed the bra had been a gift. Those panties, though, she'd certainly bought them for comfort. After all the thigh-highs, thongs and tap pants he'd watched pulled down or removed himself, Lowery knew Kathy hadn't knocked on his door with a booty call firmly in mind. By her panties she'd apparently hedged her bet. Nevertheless he smiled. She responded in kind. Laid bare her potential promised plenty. However, his current pleasure derived from memory. He hadn't seen bloomers like hers since high school. His cock began stiffening. Self-conscious from his staring, he supposed, Kathy turned away. Such modesty surprised him. Another something dredged up from long ago. She unfastened her bra first, tossing it on the chair back. Her bloomers tented the same piece of furniture. Kathy didn't face him immediately. She took a moment to build courage. Then turned. The reading lamp's low light further softened her contours. Fuller, curvier than Nancy, Kathy hewed closer to the womanly ideal. Although fit, her musculature lacked Nancy's exaggeration. Kathy stood straight. Such good posture thrust her breasts forward. Obviously not a slave to crunches, a healthy unapologetic rim of fat circled her belly button. Between sturdy well-turned legs, the abrupt exclamation of a narrow pubic "V." Lowery passed her a refreshed drink. He took one sip of his own then erased the gap between them. They stood pressed skin-to-skin. Lowery didn't embrace her. His fully erect wang was throbbing and heavy against her tummy. Their chests mashed. Lowery leaned downward to spackle little kisses on Kathy's face and neck. Each kiss he landed shivered the ice in their glasses. His care and consideration coaxed warming responses. For a time Kathy had remained one immobile recipient. He stirred her. Kathy shifted her head to ease his efforts as well as allow other spots to receive his lips. She only broke contact to set down her drink. Both hands free, Kathy seized Lowery's waist and pulled them tighter. Scenes from the Beach She rocked her belly across his rod. As she moved, feeling her hard abdominals beneath the pliant skin was a strange yet pleasing immersion. He kissed her fully on the lips. Until then Kathy's eyes had been half moons. When their mouths joined and eager tongues swirled, she shut them completely. He set his own drink down near hers on the writing desk. Lowery accepted her surrender. He whispered, "Let's go to bed." Her short walk reminded him of a resolute decision being fulfilled. She hardly disturbed the bed's sheets and pillows. His laying atop her lacked the same consideration. Kathy hugged him without passion. Lowery cupped a breast. His palm confirmed succulence. The almost random movement of his hand let both nipples rise. He lowered his face upon one sweet breast. There, his lips gently sucked the hardened nub while his tongue leisurely rolled it around. Their internal clocks were out of sync. Kathy pushed his head towards the thus far neglected twin, He obeyed her command. She arched a little when he attended that other swell twin. If his hair had been longer, Kathy might've tangled strands in her fingers and yanked. As it was, she could only press his face into her chest. Lowery slipped off this nipple and descended between her legs. Before reaching the honey pot, he planted a big silly smooch on her belly button. He glanced up at Kathy. Her expression revealed confusion on whether to be annoyed or amused that he focused one area of consternation. Lowery found it funny how the fattest men could always delude themselves into believing they inhabited Olympian forms; whereas too many women obsessed over trivial, often invisible, poundage. He yearned to tell Kathy how desirable she looked, how great she felt, but suspected she'd mistake truth for strategic flattery. Maybe if, when, they became closer, she'd take him at his word. He widened her thighs a bit and snuggled his face into them. Kathy didn't have Nancy's thin iron thighs. Instead hers were taut through thickness. Just at rest he felt the power boxing his ears. That she retained some pubic hair pleased Lowery mightily. Of late he'd screwed too many women enslaved to razors and unguents. Curly coarse shame hair aroused his primal recognition. More so than seeing a pair of female breasts. In his eyes it confirmed her womanhood. Lowery rubbed his nose and lips in Kathy's narrow hedge. His tongue tip lightly wetted it. He then kissed and licked the hollows where thighs met and disappeared into lowest rump. Sighs from above followed trembling caused by his oral forays. He nosed around her purse. Through Kathy's sex he recalled some long ago botany class. Then as now he peered at a delicately wound pink bud. One verging on blossoming magnificently. The rosebud resemblance was uncanny. The hidden lips Lowery usually uncovered were lush folds. He almost left Kathy's sex untouched. Perhaps mere study might've sufficed. But her scent, fragrant, mild, lured him. Suddenly the tip of his tongue traced tiny swirls. In doing so these circles stretched until her secret flowered. His tongue entered her salt-tinged clasp. Not as emotive as Nancy, Kathy contributed little guidance. Grip sheets, angle pelvis as she did, Kathy indicated his tongue provided nothing but sublime enjoyment. Lowery wondered if her eyes were scrunched or dreamily lidded. After too short a time an instinctive beat made her shudder and sigh. He lifted his face out of her delta. Both grinned guiltlessly. Lowery scrambled to the bed edge and retrieved their drinks. Once Kathy accepted hers, and before he sipped his, Lowery cleaned his lips by a rough backhand pass. Settled side by side now in a curious peace, Lowery asked if any former or current lover had ever called her "Rosebud." Kathy's quizzical look answered him. "Never mind," he said. She reached between his legs, tugging his semi-rigid wang. Her swinging it back and forth promised quick revival. "What's this thing like?" she asked. "It likes pussy," he said. Kathy dropped his meat. "I have to admit pussy is good. But, uh, it's been a while since I've gone down on a man." "I'm no scientist, and I sure as shit don't play one on TV, but I bet honking on bobos is a skill strengthened by estrogen." Kathy was skeptical. "You're right. You aren't a scientist." She reversed position, then heavily clambered across him. While Kathy's mouth started suctioning his cock, her moony ass loomed before him. During her tongue's survey of his turtle, Lowery slucked ice from his drink. The small cubes resting on his tongue melted. He lunged forward, his tongue a fleshy spade driving into her ass crack. One muffled yelp escaped around his dick. She pulled off and admonished him. "You want to eat my ass!? Fine! But shit, lay off the ice! I'm not kidding." Kathy proved that by squeezing his balls. He gasped from her iron grip. Lines established, Kathy resumed reacquainting her mouth with the male member. She didn't suck dick like a champ. But neither did Nancy. Where Nancy ministered serviceably, Kathy determined at least to extend some real effort. Her tongue slowly dutifully traced the veined scrimshaw climbing his shaft. Taking his balls in hand again, Kathy frankly appeared not quite knowing how they needed attending. So likely remembering some big money putts, she kissed them. Or maybe she did it just for luck. Later Lowery would ask whether her gesture had been meant tenderly or in a congratulatory manner. Benediction completed, Kathy again mouthed his rod. Her hair brushed his legs. Whether by girth, her rust on a real live one, or from winging it, she applied too many teeth for his comfort. Eventually Kathy ended Lowery's fear of decorating his dick with added denture scars. Soon sucking, pressure, proper intervals all merged. She actually managed a pleasant pump. So much so Lowery's cares faded. He lay back into the pillows, closed his eyes, lost himself in the moment. Kathy slurped and drooled down Lowery's pipe for the longest time. Close to coming, also unsheathed, he struggled with etiquette. He tapped her ass then jogged a knee up and down. She persisted. Lowery left the heaven she induced. He called her name. She chose not to hear. Propping himself on elbows, Lowery expected her to gag then spit. He spurted hard gobs. Tremors throughout his lower extremities shook his nuts and rattled Kathy's head. Despite his violence, there wasn't any coughing and hawking while clearing her mouth. Much to his merry dismay, Kathy swallowed! By the time he petered out, his tool was well on the way to wet willy. Only her grip kept up his deflating joint. Her release left a slimy hose drying on his leg. Kathy reversed her straddle. She now faced him again. When she spoke, she pretended goo still crammed her mouth. "Kiss me," Kathy joked. Instead of conducting a mutual mouth smear, she reached across his chest, grabbed her drink. Swigging, Kathy cleared her mouth. She then drained her glass in man-sizes gulps. This might've been too much enthusiasm on her part. The bourbon coursing down her throat that hit her stomach returned an eye-opening shiver. Fortunately, Lowery caught her fall. Kathy made herself small in his chest. He felt her cheeks plump and knew she smiled. "Say," Lowery said, "your high school handle wasn't 'Trailer Hitch,' was it?" "Paul, with a last name like Peck you figure it out." Perhaps this the moment she ought have returned to Nancy's bed. Or maybe he should've suggested it. However, by mutual implied consent both were satisfied with the present arrangement. The last instance he remembered before sleep descended: a drunk walking past the hotel croaking the final stanza of "In Dreams." Lowery awoke tangled in sheets in a too bright room. Well-rested, sated, no cotton mouth, naked, did it get any better than that? His minor euphoria subsided when he realized Kathy was absent. He called her name, thinking perhaps she stood on the balcony or used the bathroom. Silence. He wondered when she'd slipped back to her room. And whether she'd come back as open-minded. A door knock answered his second concern first. Lowery quit the bed. He covered his uglies with a pillow. This time he asked "who?" It was Kathy. A white sundress hung off her wide shoulders. Her feet filled white slides. The dress highlighted the sun's shadings on her skin. Unlike Nancy who was one deep brown streak from hairline to soles, Kathy's face, arms and legs below the knees, were basted. Touring sunshine had only lightly tanned her shoulders, while spearing the highest reaches of her cleavage. Nude on the beach as they had been smudged her complexion's variations. Matched against the white dress, the contrasts became apparent. She slid past the opening. Inside, she took a gander at him. Once the door clicked shut, Lowery tossed the pillow back on the bed then joined it. His sprawl intentionally accentuated his crotch. Try as she did, Kathy couldn't hide her interest. "A little casual this morning, aren't we?" she said. "Some days I just don't put on any old thing," Lowery said. "I didn't hear you leave." "No wonder. All your snoring, I thought you were sawing redwoods." Kathy continued before he responded. "I'm alone. Nancy's in Barcelona all day. At least. A prospective sponsor from Norway learned she was here. Oslo to Barcelona, the European version of New York to Miami, right? Her new money wanted facetime with his possible investment." "And who can say no to krones?" Lowery said. "Flattery, fine wines to enhance the salsa lutefisk, he'll have her telemarking in no time." "I can't believe you're still lounging around. In the altogether at that. I've already eaten and shot a quick nine." "Just nine holes?" "It doesn't take much for me. Enough to knock off any light rust. Besides someone once told me I'm a machine. All I had to do was oil the gears and swing through. Plus I used borrowed clubs. More than nine with those and I would've ruined my game." Lowery sat up. He asked her intentions for the day's remainder. Overnight outside conditions had improved. While the sun still seared, it was much less humid. Breezes off the sea were bracing, even refreshing when caught in shade. Where haze had obscured the horizon since their arrival, now sharp blues marked sky from water. Apparently Kathy intended joining many others just wandering village streets because for the longest that's all they pursued. The two didn't stroll around as a couple, yet any observing them knew they were together. Tethered more than cleaved. Browsing and chatting, performing these endeavors aimlessly, Lowery and Kathy, each droopy, finally sought late-afternoon refuge in a beach restaurant's seaward plaza. Glasses of young chilled wine chased their fatigue. After they ordered meals, then drinking more wine, Kathy boldly assessed his clothing. "Paul, for an absolutely straight man, you wear pink shirts with admirable confidence." He didn't consider his kit particularly brave. Khakis and tasseled loafers augmented the aforementioned shirt. His sunglasses rested on the table; hers perched atop her hair. "If I were really confident, I would've packed lime green pants, too. But I burned those years ago." "Lime green pants!?" Kathy whooped. "Those pants and that shirt must've been hideous!" "Not that I ever actually wore them together," Lowery said. "They were a kind of country club uniform. Sort of like those nice orange jumpsuits the county furnishes inmates." "Back East, you know, do club members really talk through clenched teeth?" Lowery grinned. "None of my neighbors was named Skippy. The only lockjaw I heard in our finger sandwich set was in Toronto. Sorry. Even in the East membership derives from the mutt classes. Well-bred mutts, though mutts all the same." Kathy laughed. "The gang must love you." "Other than visit the folks, I haven't really been back there in nearly 25 years. I doubt my absence has made any hearts in that crowd grow fonder." "There's distance," Kathy said, "but surely you keep up with one or two. Casually at least. From that I bet more of them than you can guess look at their lives and envy yours." "Maybe," he said. "If it even goes that far. I know those people. We grew up together. All we ever learned was how to lead sad little lives while maintaining appearances." She asked how he broke the mold. "You took a chance, obviously." "It never bothered me how I looked. I liked feeling good better." They savored their meals at a leisurely Spanish pace. Sea gusts scattered Kathy's hair and ruffled her dress. Two hours and bottles of wine later Lowery settled the bill. He proffered, received gracious thanks, then they ambled towards the hotel. Warm blushes fired Kathy's cheeks. Her demeanor was the most relaxed Lowery had seen it. Her gait also reflected this new comportment. Any more loose and alive and he believed she might've skipped down the sidewalk. Nancy hadn't returned when they reached the hotel. However, she had left Kathy a message. Apparently the Norwegian's cajolery would last until late. She'd likely see her partner and her lover again sometime around a nightcap. Kathy entered Lowery's room and relayed the news. His back was to the door. Hands in pants pockets, leaning against the balcony door frame, Lowery watched the deep blue sea roll out frothy whitecaps. Behind him, Lowery heard the door click shut. He felt Kathy at his back before she touched his shoulder. Lowery responded to the universal signal. He turned and faced her. Opportune expectation greeted him. Although well acquainted with her expression, that it derived from Kathy surprised him. He'd written off their prior night as tension succumbing to the strange and the new. Enjoyable as their interlude was, he ultimately regarded those hours as frivolity for both. A one-shot deal for them. Obviously he was mistaken. Kathy stroked his chest. Fingertips snagged themselves between his shirt buttons. She backed off, drawing him along by his shirt. Kathy let go before buttons popped. At the bed she ended her retreat. "Since I've lost what little taste I had for men, I don't mind, oh, dabbling with the rare one who attracts me." "I've heard it called a lot of things," Lowery said, "but 'dabbling'?" "She," Kathy said, meaning Nancy, "trusts you. And trust beats love any day. We make her whole. The three of us can make a complete circle. But I'm missing ... I'm asking you to show me or give me or provide me, whatever, a sense of, well, I don't know. Am I babbling?" "No," Lowery said. "You're just asking a question you're having trouble forming." His gentle mockery earned a crooked grin. Lowery undressed without haste. The sundress over Kathy's head strew her hair worse than the wind had. Slinking out of her panties, snug, diaphanous except for an opaque front panel, she performed an inadvertent tit-shaking shimmy. Their smiles, hers from motion, his from appreciation, built upon each other. Kathy pulled the counterpane until it crumpled around the bed on the carpet. She reclined eagerly. Lowery stole into the bathroom. Out of his shaving kit he extracted one of several foil squares. He sheathed himself at the bathroom door. His dexterity amused her. "Had some practice, have we?" Kathy asked. Lowery crowded her in bed. "You mean today?" He smothered her smiling mouth with his own, muffling her rejoinder forever. They tangled limbs. They swiftly reached fervor. His boner was a hot crazy post between them. Lowery took Kathy harder than he ever had Nancy. Although she claimed all her straight couplings only left her wet, sore, and disappointed, this screw gave a desired result. Her body writhed delightfully from his every jolt. An absolute contentment waved across her face. Kathy's lips were parted, but benedictions rather than gasps escaped her mouth. Beneath her closed eyelids Lowery saw she tracked some unknown scenes as vast as the cosmos yet compressed among their sweating bodies. He came hard and full which sent her beyond all previous pleasure precipices. Kathy fell and fell until her delirious journey ended where it started, beneath Lowery, sated, exhausted, happy. She gazed up at him as if really seeing him for the first time. Her embrace was grateful, the whispers accompanying it rendered heartfelt by the unusual actors and their circumstances. She entered this intimacy curious about how Lowery "completed" Nancy. Truly, though, pointed conversation followed by occasions of rash and sex was prelude, not answer. What he and Nancy, what Kathy and Nancy resolved among themselves developed after time and tenderness. Through these attributes issued the trust Kathy mentioned. The sex was facile. Kathy had explored without venturing far. What she sought came through nuance and was further shaded by perception. More than several hours would be needed to convey the sweetness exchanged between the two pairs. At rest, Lowery heard same-sex couples and their children at play on the sand in front of the hotel. August drew to an end. If the fresher weather heralded approaching autumn, then gaily cavorting children under the balcony affirmed it. Spain, as the rest of Europe, closed upon its final summer weekend. Monday ushered in September, meaning the end of idylls and idleness for the year. September: the resumption of serious pursuits. Lowery had a good intuition how Kathy might reconcile her current woman dilemma. Her prior infatuation was never the problem. Getting ahead of the explosion, defusing it, limiting the damage for future ventures, was. Not that her personal life should matter, but would Kathy's fearful sponsors grow encouraged to stand by a brave spokeswoman? After all, the announcement Lowery presumed she'd release ought actually lend their products worthwhile attributes through association. Lowery laughed to himself. Corporate America was cowardly. Consumers professed exalting daring. In truth, he and his fellow citizens disdained boldness, preferring the most comforting choices. Next morning Nancy recounted her Barcelona day into night. She made her peril as laughable as possible while remaining purposely blind to Kathy's lovelorn eyes. This would be the trio's last day on the beach. The women returned to America tomorrow. Lowery would enjoy two more days in northeast Spain. Those he'd spend in Barcelona. Their meal digested, Nancy suggested several final hours on the beach. With the influx of minor children, they followed the adult sunbathers' trend of trudging farther down the sand. Tolerant as Spaniards were, who among them wanted to alibi how pairs of men or women "played" with each other? It was hard enough to make sense of how the kids' own parents "played." The greater distance hopefully providing sufficient cover, Kathy, Nancy, and Lowery set up chairs, exchanged nods and cut eyes with other worshippers, then unburdened themselves of clothing. Nancy blithely strode off towards the water. She never looked back. Kathy glanced anxiously at Lowery. "Remember," he said, "you've hitched your wagon to her star. That's what this week's been all about, right?" Doubt faded from Kathy's face. She turned and added her focus on Nancy, who waded farther into the Mediterranean. Tentative steps pushed Kathy towards shoreline. The two met in waist-high surf. Kathy approached timidly. Nancy minded her with reserve. Their misgivings were short-lived. Restless water surged around their midriffs. He watched as they lunged into each other's arms. Lowery wondered what soft words they spoke before immersing in soul draining kisses. Scenes from the Beach Memory came to the fore; whatever needed dismissal between them had been. Lowery watched the couple frisk. Their dark gleaming skins and frolicking reminded him of otters. Rather than intrude, Lowery instead gave Nancy and Kathy their time to romp. -30-