Lake Pathos Marina, Saturday, June 17, 1989
The red Corvette deep-throated as it slowed for the turn into the lake marina parking lot. The T-top was open to the afternoon sun, and Jessie’s hair blew back like a model in a photo shoot with a summer breeze. Brad eased the Vette in a space at the far end. They slid out of the low riding sports coupe to the awaiting trunk, lid open. Jessie lowered her pink and black, tiger-striped Wayfarers and looked at Brad—eyelids of burnt orange contrasted with midnight dyed hair and almond highlights.
“Did I ever tell you how much I adore the clothes that I picked out just for you to look at me?” She tipped up on her toes and gave him a tongue kiss, one that was becoming a trademark greeting of hers.
“You’re welcome, and you look stunning,” Brad said.
Jessie showed off her white and tight, spandex mini skirt with her hands propped on her knees, eyes peering over her sunglasses.
“Everything to your liking?” she purred. The top was a one-piece white crunch bandeau strap with shoulders and arms of lace.
“Can’t wait to see you model the suit.”
“You can watch me strip . . . along with everyone else.” She grabbed her newly purchased Gucci beach bag from the trunk and slung it over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s party.”
The beach area, cordoned off for the private party, was a sand point that jutted out into the water to form a cove with no wake. Tiki torches surrounded the party area adjacent to a wooded glen that shaded one of the water sources for the lake. Secluded and protected from view by the public beach and marina, the party was in full swing as Brad and Jessie arrived.
Leaving behind the bend of cascading, weathered stairs and gazeboes that traversed the sloping approach to the lake, Brad and Jessie surveyed the party. The landing provided an excellent vantage point to observe skiers whisking across the lake and boats tied together lazily bobbing as a mass party on the water. Jessie tugged at his white Tommy Bahama beach shirt she picked out for him while shopping for her summer wardrobe. Rocking a tight look, it draped over his muscular shoulders and pecs, a lasting reminder of his undergrad football days.
“Wow, there must be several hundred people here,” Jessie said.
“Yeah, the investment team plus their guests and an open invitation to our clients with portfolios of at least 100K. This group will reek of Rolexes and diamonds, designer fashion from GQ and Vogue— ”
“And the parking lot full of sports cars and Lexus.” Jessie slid her arm around his waist. She felt out of her league—that “butterfly” feeling as an aspiring actress makes her debut on stage.
“There’s Rob and his girl.” Brad pointed towards the right side of the group nearest the water. “Also, Ben and Sherri. And there’s Ed. All three of us work together in metals and oil.”
“Looks like a wicked party.”
“And you’ll be the bomb.”
The party was laid out to accommodate the crowd with two large tents to change clothes and stow beach bags. A beer wagon with three taps and a Tiki hut wine bar provided libations. Under a big top circus tent, linen covered tables presented a spread of delectable, gourmet food befitting a king and spoke of the record-year profits of this Kansas investment firm. Rain or shine, this party was going to roll. A nautical and beach motif with potted palms, succulent plants, seashells, and driftwood gave this shaded haven the feel of the tropics. Lanterns and buoys hung from nautical ropes strung throughout. A beach-themed photo booth complete with marine and coastal accessories was a focal point for crazy fun with props like snorkels, masks and fins, surfboards, straw hats, flower leis, beach balls, animal ring floats, and chalkboard “thought bubbles” to put words in one’s mouth. Laughter was non-stop as inhibitions lowered and hidden characters surfaced.
A pig roasted in a sand pit and barbeque-basted ribs and chicken grilled in a large smoker the size of a 50-gallon barrel turned on its side. All types of colorful fruit decorated the tables, and the juice bar blended smoothies. A radio show DJ team monitored a sound system and provided entertainment between cuts of music, drawing the crowd to action with contests like beach ball relay and a giant Twister game. A platform on the sand for dancing with party lights strung overhead to a center pole. Colossal beach blankets, the size of a room area rugs, situated near the water’s edge for groups to congregate and interact.
“Hey, Brad, good to see ya. Was wondering when you were going to show.” Rob thrust out his hand, and Brad embraced his.
“We’re three up on ya, Bradster. Ya got some catchin’ up to do,” Ed egged him on a bit more.
“Party looks alive! How’s the beer?” Brad said.
“Ice cold and smooth, three flavors, Heineken, Stella, and Corona. Hits the spot in this sun.” Ed pointed his bottle to Jessie, who was a pace behind Brad, looking around and taking in the extravagance of the company party.
“Oh, yeah, Jessie, ” he said as he pulled her into his side. “This is Ed, Rob, Nancy, Ben, and Sherri.”
The group looked curiously at Brad. Her eyes lit up like a trophy of conquest. Everyone welcomed her.
“Hey, can I get you two something to drink . . . beer, wine ?” Ben looked at Jessie. “A fruit smoothie?”
“Sure, I’ll have a Stella. Jessie?” Brad said.
“Vodka watermelon?” she jested.
“Boss has a ‘drink slow’ motto,” Rob interjected. “No liquor. This party will go to midnight.”
“Well, I’m not much of a beer drinker. Gives ya a belly. How about a chardonnay with a cube of ice.” She gave them a big-toothed smile underneath her pink and black, tiger-striped, Wayfarers. “Please.”
“Good choice. I’ll be right back,” Ben said.
“Hey, why don’t you settle over here with us at our beach blanket,” Sherri offered to Jessie. “You can stow your gear. There are tents to change in over there.”
“No need, I’m wearin’ mine.” Jessie grinned.
They moved to the group’s blanket as the DJ announced, “Groovin’ with KB and the Shifters, that was ‘Call Me,’ as we bring you another hit from our Beach Music Top 40 Countdown. Hey! Get ready for some more water fun with beach ball relay when we hit number 20 on the beach music chart. Here’s number 19, ‘Why You Wanna Go & Do That’ with the Reverend Bubba D. Liverance and the Corn Hole Prophets!”
Jessie flipped off her sandals and walked on the blanket to set her Gucci bag in the center while looking out onto the water where several surfboards corralled an assortment of beach balls. She slid her spandex miniskirt down her hips, her lacy top covering her waist while she exposed her bare buns—round and firm—as she bent over to step out of the mini. The G-string bikini did not become apparent until she turned around towards them. Her sunglasses had slid down her nose and the expression on her face and the look of her midnight eyes shadowed with burnt orange was one of—Oops, I didn’t know anyone was looking—as the guys gawked and the girls stared wide-eyed with their mouths open in astonishment. She crossed her arms and slowly pulled up the white bandeau strap to reveal her top—black with tiny white polka dots—that barely hid her boobs. Her belly stretched tight as she raised the lacy white top over her head. The same patterned bikini bottom crossed her hips and disappeared between rounds of cheek underneath a black bow centered above.
“Bad to the bone, girl,” Ed broke the silence with a drooling smile and downed the remainder of his frothy beer.
“Brad, you comin’ with me for a swim? This sun is blazin’ hot,” Jessie said over her shoulder as she winked at Ed.
Brad, still stupefied by her bold and sensual act, recovered quickly, “Sure, baby, let’s take one of the boards out.”
Ben returned with the chilled drinks. “Wow! Sports Illustrated two-page spread. Are you the unnamed model?” He presented her with chardonnay on ice and looked from her boobs to her toes and then to Brad. “Preserve this specimen, and this will be the best investment you ever make.”
“Ben! For gosh sakes! Show some respect.” Sherri glared at Ben and then softened as she looked at Jessie. “Let’s go for a walk, these bimbos haven’t grown up yet.” Sherri took her hand and marched off the blanket, Jessie’s tight derriere the focal point for all the guys as the two ran toward the water. They held their cups of wine in the air to keep them from spilling. Reaching the water, they stopped, full of giggles and laughter. They tipped their cups for a toast and downed their drinks. Tossing them over their shoulders, they ran along the water’s edge splashing each other with their steps.
“So, how did you and Brad meet up?” Sherri asked with a smile, her Prada sunglasses hiding most of her face as they walked the packed sand of the beach.
“Volleyball. I challenged Brad and his girl to a match. We won, and I won him.”
“Is that so? When was the match?”
“Oh, not long, we’ve gone out a few times. He likes to dress me up in whatever I like to wear. That makes me happy.”
“I can see that.”
“He bought me this gorgeous black tie designer dress from New York just to take me to the Cattlemen’s Club.”
“I see.”
“Yes, and he’s taken me out on his boat, and we’ve gone out cruising the high plains in his Vette.”
“Have you done the wild thing?”
Jessie stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Take a Red! I’m not some bimbette that he met at the sandlot.”
Sherri reached out to Jessie. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” Miffed, she turned to walk away. “I can take care of myself.”
Sherri took a step in front of her to cause her to stop. They were standing around the bend in the beach, the hill hiding them from the party. “Chill for a minute. Tell me about the volleyball game. Was Jan there?”
“Jan? You mean his old girl?
“Old girl? Well, in a sense they’ve been together for a long time.”
“He dumped her for me,” Jessie said with an air of pride.
Sherri lowered her sunglasses to show the expression in her eyes, on her face, one that read—You’ve been had, baby.
Jessie lowered hers to connect, eye to eye.
Sherri shook her head slightly.
Jessie shook hers slowly in disbelief.
Sherri nodded to affirm.
“He’s married, and you don’t want to get caught up in their shiz nits.”
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.
To read the scenes sequentially, begin with
“PURSUIT: A Novel – Prologue”
Located in the May Blog Archive. Click on the episodes and enjoy.
This episode is pre-published. The book will be available Spring 2018.
Your comments are welcomed and appreciated. 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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