Beach Encounter

My car moves slowly down the winding road, the overhanging ficus trees looming overhead. This is the Beach road, the one I have used for years, the one I have bicycled, run, and driven down many, many times over the last decade. It looks different at night; the intermittent streetlights cast a yellow pall that is mostly blocked by the thickly leaved branches of the trees. My headlights illuminate the pavement ahead, and I see the sign…. “public beach Access”. My heart leaps with anticipation and nervous excitement, as I guide the car past the sign, into the parking lot. All at once, I see it; your car parked dark and quiet on the far side of the lot. I heave a sigh of relief as I pull around to it. I slowly guide my car into the space next to it and put the gearshift to park, then shut off the engine. I take a second to gaze into the front seat of the car, and I see that you’re not in it.

I open my door and step out onto the hard pavement of the parking lot. The warm ocean air hits my nostrils immediately; I love that smell, the salty, heavy scent that tells me that I am near the wonder that I love, the sea. The warm, salt- heavy ocean air hits my nostrils and immediately triggers old thoughts, plans, hopes and dreams; old memories of losing myself in the contemplation of the oceans vast blueness, its endless ripples and variations. The memories flood back of the days of my drinking, when it hypnotized me for hours; the bitter taste of the beer transformed my thoughts into idealistic fairy tales, and bitter schemes. It is only now that I realize that through all of the changes that I have gone through, it had stayed the same; constant, always the best listener, never offering advice or rendering judgment, just being there- a relaxing presence, an objective passivity. It is why I chose it to oversee my encounter with you, the object of my desires.
I open the back door, reach in, and pull the backpack from the floor. Next to it is a small, weathered case containing my mandolin. I grab it too. I sling the pack over one shoulder, and, taking the mandolin in one hand, start to make my way toward the wooden pavilion. There are no lights here but my eyes quickly adjust to the darkness. There is a full moon tonight and as my eyes acclimate, I realize that I can see quite well in the openness. I strain my eyes but cannot see you under the shade of the pavilion.

“You there?” I call out, in a rough whisper.
I bend my head, straining to hear a response over the constant roar of the night surf.
“ Yes.. I’m here!”
Your words make my heart jump and my eyes focus on your silhouette sitting on the one of the picnic benches. I move toward you, setting the mandolin case and the pack on the table gently. We fall into each other’s arms, the long wait over, the immediate joy of the long awaited joining of our physical selves overcoming us.

“Oh God, its so good to see you!” I say in a low voice into your ear.
“Yes, my darling. I waited for you.”
I pull back, and smile at you, making out your features in the darkness, feeling your warm breath on face. I gaze at your long, dark hair, the familiar pretty face that I love so much, and those warm, soft lips smiling at me. Your wearing a white button-up blouse, tied in a knot at the center, and a pair of jean shorts, your soft legs uncovered all the way down to your deck sneakers. Immediately, I feel the stirrings of arousal in my loins, the power of our mutual attraction making me flush hot with anticipation. I bend my head to yours, and press my warm lips to yours, the kiss, the moment that I have longed for. I feel your body pressing against mine, and wrap my arms around you, pulling you closer to me. The kiss lingers for a few moments, breaking softly, our moist lips clinging.

“Lets walk.” I say
I take your hand in mine, and pick up the pack with the other, slinging it to my shoulder. Together we walk toward the steps that lead down to the sandy beach. At the last step, we sit, and remove our sneakers, placing them into the pack. I stand, take your hand again, and together we move out onto the wide, soft expanse of the beach, our toes sinking in the cool and damp sand with each step. You lose your balance slightly, and lean into me as we walk, both of us laughing as we make our way down to the edge of the sea where the sand is firmer.

The moon shines brightly, illuminating the features of the beach, allowing us to make out the shapes of debris and clumps of tangled seaweed at various spots, as we walk slowly, aimlessly, simply enjoying the peaceful roar of the waves. The smell of the sea is intoxicating, and we are both in awe of the natural beauty of this place. Small groups of sandpipers dart around our feet as they continue their endless race up and down the beach, barely avoiding the wetness of each receding wave. I see a clear spot on the sand ahead, and I make my way to it, pulling you along behind me.

I drop the pack to the sand from my shoulder, opening the flapped top. Reaching in, I pull out a folded blanket, which I shake out, handing you one corner. Together, we spread it out fully, the strong ocean breeze catching it and pulling it, and drop it to the sand. Together, we plop to our knees on the blanket, then down onto our butts, snuggling in close to each other. I reach in to the pack again and withdraw a small bottle of wine and two small glasses. Opening the bottle, I pour us each a small amount, and together we sip, as we gaze out into the solemn darkness of the sea. I set my glass down in the sand, then turn and open my mandolin case, pulling the instrument from its place. I lightly begin to pick at the strings, and softly begin to sing. You gradually recognize the tune; it’s “When you say Nothing at All”, by Alison Krauss. You start to sing along with me in a soft, almost undetectable voice. The music that comes from us takes on an almost ethereal quality; the sheer beauty of that song, and this moment here in this paradise, suddenly overwhelm us. Setting my mandolin down in its case, I turn my head to face you.

“Thank you for coming here with me.”
You smile.
“Thank you… It’s beautiful here.”
There is a short silence between us as we share a look of deep understanding, and mutual need.
I bend my head, and kiss your soft lips.
You press yours against them.