Friday, November 24, 2017

PURSUIT: A Novel – 43.1: Playground – Lemon Drop


Lake Pathos Marina, Memorial Day, May 28, 1989
Sport’s Illustrated 1989 25th Anniversary Swimsuit Cover was that of Kathy Ireland wearing a lemon-drop bikini—a strapless Spandau clamshell top hugged her, and a matching clamshell cupped only that which needed to be covered. The athletic and revealing look appealed to Jessie as it did the men that ogled the annual swimsuit spread of nearly naked girls having fun in the sun. As Jessie entered the indoor section of the Lake Pathos Tiki bar, she sported the lemon-drop bikini with her dark hair, wet and combed back. Water droplets glistened on her bronzed skin. Roxette’s, “The Look,” was playing over the sound system.

One, two, three, four walking like a man
Hitting like a hammer
She’s a juvenile scam
Never was a quitter
Tasty like a raindrop
She’s got the look

Natural beauty with a thick brow line that offset her high cheekbones and angular face, eyes naturally black as coal, caused one looking into Jessie’s eyes to peer deeply. Whether it was her porcelain tooth, sexy smile—the pouty lips of Angelina—or the lemon-drop clamshells against her bronze, toned body, all eyes were on her as she entered—not in a girly or sultry manner, but rather with a demeanor that she was a competitive player in the sand. She walked up to the fruit bar with swank, purpose, and poise.

Heavenly bound
Cause heaven’s got a number
When she’s spinning me around
Kissing is a color
Her loving is a wild dog
She’s got the look

“How does one get a scrub volleyball team together?” Jessie announced, looking around at the muscular guys. “Challengers only, or is this,” she nodded at the game on the beach, “a scheduled event?” She spoke to no one in particular and waited to see who would respond. Three guys started to answer at the same time. Her entrance had captivated them. Her question was considered a personal invitation to play.
“Scheduled.”
“Scrub.”
“Challengers accepted.”
“Well, which is it, boys, I don’t have time to debate this.”
“That game is a scrub game, and any team can challenge the winner.” His accent was Portuguese, more refined than Spanish and with a poetic flair.
“So who plays?” Her coal black eyes glanced at each of the men’s, signaling a mutual interest in playing with any one of them.
The “I do’s” were like a stuttering of proposals. She grinned at them. Athletic men who spent hours a day flexing muscle, testosterone magnets and tanned, they fell into boyish reflexes, intimidated by the forwardness of a strikingly beautiful young woman.

She’s got the look (She’s got the look) She’s got the look (She’s got the look)
What in the world can make a brown-eyed girl turn blue
When everything I’ll ever do I’ll do for you
And I go la la la la la she’s got the look

“Well then, I guess we have our teams. I’ll rotate with y’all on the two-on-two and start with you.” She nodded to the black athlete that had the build of a football receiver, long muscular legs and arms, hands that could easily palm a volleyball.
“My name is Jessie.”
“Rodney.” He extended his hand.
She looked at the other two jocks on either side of him, one that in a suit could steal the cover of GQ and the other the Brazilian that matched his girl attracting looks. She was interested in power for her first contest in the sand, and the looks, well, she intended to be center stage.
“Sling.”
“Marcelo.”
“So, you boys regular V’ballers or just jumping at the chance to watch my boobs bounce?” She cocked her hip and placed her hand to show the guys some eye candy as she watched them glance at her sculpted hips then back to her eyes. Don’t be caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Fire in the ice
Naked to the T-bone
Is a lover’s disguise
Banging on the head drum
Shaking like a mad bull
She’s got the look

The men were speechless. They were caught by her tough demeanor, sleek wet hair, sheer spandex straps that filtered bronze beneath, breasts lemon-drop round, and tight muscular butt—a collage of sultry testosterone and virile estrogen.

Swaying to the band
Moving like a hammer
She’s a miracle man
Loving is the ocean
Kissing is the wet sand
She’s got the look

“It’s been a while since I played on the beach . . . ”

Roxane, “The Look” Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, EMI Music Publishing



Copyright 2017  © Jeff Cambridge

Excerpt from PURSUIT, a novel by Jeff Cambridge.
Author of transformational fiction—
Real characters in real life drama that tell the story of their transformation to become more like Jesus.
This is a pre-published scene.
To read the scenes sequentially, begin with
“PURSUIT: A Novel – Prologue”
You will find the previous episodes in the monthly archives. Click on them and enjoy.

Your comments are welcomed and appreciated. Simply check one of the reaction boxes below, write a comment, or email me at lightbycambridge@gmail.com.

This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, businesses, organizations, and locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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