Lake Pathos Marina, Saturday, June 17, 1989
Jessie and Sherri were at the wine bar switching from white to red as the lake breeze moved through the tent. Laughter emanated from the photo booth where two girls posed wearing straw hats—one had squeezed into a ring float with a purple head of a cartoon dinosaur, the other wore a snorkel and mask and held a thought bubble that read— Scooby-Doo and Barney, too!
Jessie tilted her head back while watching their antics, letting the pinot noir slide effortlessly down her throat.
“Let’s do,” she said to Sherri, took her hand, and led to the table of props.
Two slender, athletic dudes saw them bounce their way around the tables—Jessie’s derriere flagged attention, and Sherri’s ample chest beamed ahead.
“I’m not much into the costumes, but I do have a thought.” Sherri giggled, handed Jessie a marker, and took the cap off hers. “We’ll turn our backs to each other and write what we think. Keep it a secret. We’ll pose without knowing what the other is thinking and then we’ll look at the picture.”
“Shibby, let’s do it!” Jessie and Sherri acted like they were high school BFF’s after their enlightening connection on the beach. Their camaraderie and animation drew the two athletic dudes and several others closer to watch as they rubbed their butts together in fun.
“Okay, got mine.”
“Me, too.”
They hid them from view and entered the booth and posed as if modeling their swimsuits for a photo shoot. The photographer, dressed up as Indiana Jones, starting shooting at once causing the two girls to ham-it-up with the glitz and glam of professional models. Both were a riot, and their madcap escapade drew a crowd of guys and girls that hooted and hollered for them to continue their fun. Their finale was their thought-bubbles. They picked them up and bent over to lean towards each other profiling their butts provocatively, heads side-by-side with lips puckered for the crowd. They raised their thought-bubbles as the audience hooted and several dudes whooped, “Hoorah!”
Sherri’s bubble read— I’m a Top Down girl, while Jessie’s read— Bottom’s Up.
“Beachball relay!” the DJ announced. “Head to the water and grab a ball and someone fun to play this wild game! Here’s our next cut, ‘There Goes My Baby’ by The Drifters.”
Jessie and Sherri looked at each other with the same flirtatious energy and shouted, “Beachball baby!”
“Hey, let’s get another glass of wine,” Sherri suggested.
“Bottom’s up!” Jessie laughed hysterically.
“Hey, who we going to play this with?” Sherri asked as they teetered towards the crowd forming at the water’s edge.
“Dunno—”
“Hey, girls!” The two slender, athletic dudes came jogging up from behind them.
The two girls looked over their shoulders.
“Boss act,” the Swede said as he hiked his head in the direction of the tent.
“That was no act,” Jessie said with a straight face.
“Totally rad,” the Italian tossed in.
“There ya go, Jessie. Two plus two equals four.” Sherri gave her the eye and a shrug to say—Which one you want?
Jessie eyed the Swede with the golden hair and flashing blue eyes. Sherri smiled in agreement. Jessie tilted her head back, sliding the grape nectar out of its cup. She pointed to the blonde with her forefinger and back at herself with her thumb.
“We’re bitchin’, let’s go!” Jessie grabbed his hand and raced with him to the corral of beach balls.
“How’s this work?” Jessie tossed a ball to him.
“Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you the secret to winning this game,” he said with a beautiful accent as he batted the ball back to her.
“Yours first.”
“You are a teaser. My name is Lars.”
“You can call me, Jessie, for now.” She bopped the ball high.
“And later?” Lars eyed the pink and black, tiger-striped, white polka dot girl.
Jessie slid the shades down her nose to look into his unshaded blue eyes—playfulness full of guile. She did not answer, and the ball bopped him on the head.
“Better watch your ball,” Jessie slurred.
“The secret, Valentine, is to straddle the ball and press in with your knees, and then put your arms around me and press your chest into mine.”
Jessie stuck her tongue out for fun. “Or is it you who puts his arms around mine and presses—”
“Hey you two,” Sherri interrupted. “Let’s get in line. Jessie, this is Antonio.”
“And this is Lars.” Jessie slid her hand into his.
“Antonio has offered to get us another round of drinks,” Sherri said with a look—Slow down, girl.
“For sure!” Jessie sang out. “Lars and I are gonna to practice our winnin’ move,” she said, trying to mock his accent, but slurring even more.
The relay game with the beach balls was more complicated than it sounded. It was a relay of three exchanges along a rope line strung between two poles with three fluorescent orange ribbons evenly spaced between them. The pair—a guy and a girl—started at one end with one wedging the ball between their legs to waddle down the line. The partner would wait at the next orange ribbon for an exchange. Two lines were set end-to-end in the ankle deep water for two teams to compete. If the ball dropped, the contestant had to pick up the ball and run back to the last ribbon. The winning teams then faced off again until all but two teams were eliminated.
Antonio returned with a carrier of drinks, red wine for the girls and two bottles of beer, and pulled a wheeled cooler behind him. Jessie and Lars continued to “practice,” although it looked more like a guy and a girl falling all over each other as the two tumbled in the sand laughing until their bellies ached. Antonio popped the lid of the cooler and yelled out to the crowd, “Ice cold water anyone?” Jessie stood and brushed sand from her butt and adjusted her top while Lars watched her as he sat on the beach. Antonio handed the wine cups to Sherri and Jessie, set the carrier next to Lars, and took a long pull from his beer.
Brad looked towards the tall, jet-black haired Italian that had yelled out and saw Jessie and Sherri among the group. The golden-haired Swede, now animatedly engaged in conversation with Jessie, caught his attention. She laughed and held up her wine cup as golden-hair raised his for a toast. “Bottom’s up!” he declared.
“Tops down!” Jet-black replied. The girls laughed, too silly to even take a drink.
Brad approached the four with steps of intent to break up their fun and glared at golden-hair. With Jessie and Sherri’s back to him, he called out, “Jessie!”
Both girls turned together, and Jessie’s foot caught against the cooler. She lost her balance and tossed forward her cup of red wine.
The expression on Brad’s face was priceless—astonished anger—as Antonio and Sherri stared at his Tommy Bahama white beach shirt stained with red, his face splattered with wine droplets. Lars deftly caught Jessie by the waist to keep her from falling any further, but she bent all the way over until her hands on the cooler stopped her fall. She let out a hysterical laugh and turned to look over her shoulder at her rescuer. They meshed together— he held her waist as the bow of her bikini stared back at him.
“Bottom’s up!” Jessie giggled.
The DJ announced the last call for the first round of the relay. Lars and Antonio grabbed their balls and got in line. Lars and Jessie on deck to begin the next race. The relay was a riot of laughter. Couples of all different shapes and sizes, some impossibly matched to make it from end-to-end regardless of time. Lars and Jessie hit it off from the start, both agile and athletic. They could balance, squeeze, and walk the ball without dropping between exchanges. Their exchange was a hug that pressed her boobs into his chest and their tummies together. The secret to winning the relay was to be “uninhibited.” Couples less willing to allow the game to be an appropriate excuse to let loose and touch could not pass the ball well. Another option was the face-to-back exchange, and this also caused much cacophonous laughter and comments, for to do this swap with any success the player in front had to sit on top of the ball with their legs spread while the player in back held tightly with their hips meshed together. During the final contest, each team had to exchange one leg of the race, face to face, and the returning leg, face to back, so it was best to practice both if one intended to win.
Brad had left in a huff, embarrassed by Jessie’s drunken immaturity. This was not the place to attract negative attention. He quickly removed his shirt and threaded his way through the crowd to distance himself from the incident. He had a reputation to maintain, and with clients and partners mingling about, he did not want to be associated with an 18-year old that should not have been drinking in the first place. He slipped out into the parking lot unnoticed, got in his red Corvette, and once on the highway, raced back to the city. He had his goddess—Aphrodite—a.k.a. Jan—his wife—to make up to.
Both couples won their heats and did not face each other again until the final race. Antonio had graciously offered to get another round of drinks while they chugged bottled water in the heat and then raced out to the lake to cool down. The beach ball relay—best suited for the inebriated where normal inhibitions were cast aside and nonchalant groping inevitable—became hilarious. The crowd consisted of most of the party. The hooting and hollering drew even the conservative to watch the festive game.
During the final heat, Jessie and Lars started on the left end, and Sherri and Antonio took the right. Jessie chose face-to-face for the first leg, knowing that face-to-back they were faster. They tended to hold on to each other longer than necessary when they were looking at each other. When Lars was behind her for the exchange, he placed his arms underneath her boobs and lifted her slightly so that her spread legs could squeeze the ball. When she did, she felt his swollen package nestle between her cheeks. The only way to win was to get close.
Sherri and Antonio led with a face-to-back exchange and beat them to the center. Their bodies did not mesh as ideally as Jessie and Lars. Antonio was a head taller than Sherri, and her busty boobs made the face-to-face exchange a bit more challenging to get close, yet not squeeze too much and pop out of her bikini top.
The crowd’s favorite was Jessie. She had a way of drawing them in with her performance, partly comedic, partly flirtatious, and mostly because she did not give a damn what anyone thought of her. She was bold, and her beautiful buns spoke of it, round bronzed spheres with just a slight jiggle and bounce to make their eyeballs follow the tempting delight.
The “hump,” as the face-to-back move was called, best described what Jessie and Lars did to each other to win the final race. Sherri had a mishap at the second exchange. She positioned her hips too forward causing her breasts to push her back, off balance. Antonio had to squeeze and pull much harder to keep her upright on the ball. A boob popped out. Sherri laughed hysterically, and they both fell sideways into the water. The crowd went nuts over their topple, and most of them missed Jessie who leaned her black and white polka dotted bikini across the tape to claim the win.
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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