Michael's Cove - Ch. 3 - The Storm
Michael returned to the solitude of his living room after storing the kayak and a few other things in the shed built under the beach house. The wind was gaining strength and the sky was growing angry. He stopped and turned around to gaze out through the window. He could see the waves beginning their dance as the peaks began to fill with the white froth. He turned on the small radio that sat on the kitchen counter and it instantly told him everything he needed to know..."The National Weather Service has issued a severe storm warning for the western coast of Florida effective until 10:00pm today. A tropical depression has formed. Resdients should expect 4 - 6" of rain with damaging winds and flooding in low lying areas. Seas will reach 8 - 10 feet. Beach residents should take extreme caution..." The report lasted for several minutes before looping and beginning all over. Michael turned it off with a look of disgust on his face.
Michael hated dealing with the incessant storms, but knew it was the price he had to pay to live here. The storm meant that he would have to close up the house and shutters, a task that he despised. It meant getting out in the wind driven sands, setting up the ladder and working those rusted hinges. He had been meaning to oil them, but like most things lately, he kept telling himself it could wait.
As Michael continued to work his way around the house, window by window, rusted hinge by rusted hinge, his thoughts continued to swirl around the woman...her beuatiful light brown hair, her legs, God, her legs! The vision of them gently swaying over the side of the kayak and she stroked her way through the water. The thought wouldn't go away, each time it became more and more erotic. He could feel the growing throb and strained to stop his mind from going there. It had been way too long since he had felt the comfort and touch of a woman. Not since that night at the marina bar.
Had it really been 4 months? He had a few too many Gin and tonics and so had she... She was a tourist on holiday from England, her breasts fighting back against the white tank top, her nipples hardened against the night breeze. What was her name? What difference did it make, he would never see her again. A one night stand in a hotel room. A release from the reality of the day and just another tourist looking for a trophy. The sex was good, not great, but then he really didn't remember a lot of it...just the morning after guilt.
As Michael worked on the last window, his thoughts came back to reality. The rain was beginning fall, slowly, sporadically the drops were starting to gather their forces. "It wouldn't be long now" he said out loud as if there was someone there. Suddenly, without warning a voice answered "I agree, this could get nasty". Michael about fell off of the ladder. He turned his upper body and looked down. It was her, the stunning kayak lady holding a couple of small tools and towel d****d across her shoulders...(End of Chapter 3 - More to come)
Michael hated dealing with the incessant storms, but knew it was the price he had to pay to live here. The storm meant that he would have to close up the house and shutters, a task that he despised. It meant getting out in the wind driven sands, setting up the ladder and working those rusted hinges. He had been meaning to oil them, but like most things lately, he kept telling himself it could wait.
As Michael continued to work his way around the house, window by window, rusted hinge by rusted hinge, his thoughts continued to swirl around the woman...her beuatiful light brown hair, her legs, God, her legs! The vision of them gently swaying over the side of the kayak and she stroked her way through the water. The thought wouldn't go away, each time it became more and more erotic. He could feel the growing throb and strained to stop his mind from going there. It had been way too long since he had felt the comfort and touch of a woman. Not since that night at the marina bar.
Had it really been 4 months? He had a few too many Gin and tonics and so had she... She was a tourist on holiday from England, her breasts fighting back against the white tank top, her nipples hardened against the night breeze. What was her name? What difference did it make, he would never see her again. A one night stand in a hotel room. A release from the reality of the day and just another tourist looking for a trophy. The sex was good, not great, but then he really didn't remember a lot of it...just the morning after guilt.
As Michael worked on the last window, his thoughts came back to reality. The rain was beginning fall, slowly, sporadically the drops were starting to gather their forces. "It wouldn't be long now" he said out loud as if there was someone there. Suddenly, without warning a voice answered "I agree, this could get nasty". Michael about fell off of the ladder. He turned his upper body and looked down. It was her, the stunning kayak lady holding a couple of small tools and towel d****d across her shoulders...(End of Chapter 3 - More to come)
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