Smut by the Sea

by Lucy Felthouse

  “And will you design it so you can wear it wet?” Jay’s words were teasing, but the look in his eyes had intensified, and Talia found herself catching her breath.

  No. Not unless you feel it too. She made her eyes wide, innocent. “Would you like that, Jay? Would you like to see it wet?”

  This time it was Jay’s breath that caught, and Talia smiled.

  She changed the subject as the waiter appeared with their food, and for a while they stuck to safe topics. Jay’s last job had been designing uniforms, which he had apparently loathed with a passion.

  “I had no room for creativity. I don’t even know why they employed designers. Any middle-management square could have put that shit together.”

  “Why did you apply there?”

  “Bills to pay, nothing more. The job at Chicane was like a lifeline, believe me.”

  “I bet.” Talia reached for the bottle and poured herself another glass of wine. A warm, tingly feeling was beginning to spread in the centre of her body, radiating outwards, and she found a slightly drunken smile covering her face.

  From the vaguely glazed look in Jay’s eyes, he was feeling the effects of the wine too. It certainly made his next comment, half a glass later, less of a surprise.

  “I have something to ask you.”

  “Oh?”

  Jay tipped his head to one side and looked at her intently, biting his lip. “Why does… well, letting yourself get wet, um..” His eyes flickered for a moment. “Get you off?”

  Get you off. There was something about hearing those words from Jay’s lips that struck Talia speechless. He saw me. Oh God, he saw me.

  Stalling for time, she took a bite of her osso buco, fighting to control the sudden painful bounding of her heart.

  He saw me… and I want him to see me again.

  “I like…” She paused. “I like how it feels on my skin. I like the cold chill on a hot day. I like the way it makes my clothes cling to me.” She remembered the look on Jay’s face when he had seen her, her soaked clothes revealing the curves of her body, and shivered.

  Jay’s eyes were still on her, his face flushed, and Talia couldn’t resist asking.

  “How did it make you feel - watching me?”

  The question hung in the air. Jay licked his lips, one hand tightening on his fork, then looked her straight in the face.

  “I’ve never been so excited in my life.”

  ***

  After dinner, they made their way down to the beach.

  Talia couldn’t stop casting glances at Jay as they walked. It was as though her body was drawn to his with a gravitational pull. Casually she let her hand hang between them, biting back a moan when she felt his fingers catch hers.

  She had never wanted anything so badly in her life, and she had no idea what to do.

  Get wet.

  The sun was setting, casting a rosy glow over the waves, and the gentle lapping of sea against sand was irresistible. After casting a few longing glances at the rippling sheet of water, Talia impulsively dropped Jay’s hand and darted into the shallows, her feet sinking into the wet sand as she ran deeper into the sea.

  “Hey!” Jay started towards her, then stopped, watching her as Talia splashed her way into deeper water. He shook his head indulgently. “You’re nuts.”

  “I get more nuts than this.” Without stopping, Talia dived forward, ducking completely under the surface of the water. Rolling over onto her back, she felt for the sand with her feet and stood, grinning at Jay through the droplets of water that ran in trails down her face.

  “What do you think, Jay?” Feeling the alcoholic warmth still tingling in her body, she lifted both hands and stretched, letting the wet fabric of her dress mould itself to her breasts. “Do you like me wet?”

  “I’d like you better a bit closer.” Jay held out his hand in invitation and Talia splashed back towards him, noting the slight tremor that ran through his fingers.

  He wants me.

  As soon as their fingers touched, Jay closed his hand tightly around hers and pulled her forward so Talia’s body slammed against his. She tilted her chin upwards and their mouths crashed together, sending a jolt of electricity through her nerves.

  It felt so good to finally touch him that it almost hurt.

  “Back here,” Jay gasped as their lips parted, and Talia clung to his shoulders as he began to manoeuvre her backwards across the sand. Her back touched cold rock; when she opened her eyes, she saw they were in a small cleft at the end of a rock promontory, mostly hidden from view but with a clear view of the sea.

  Jay pressed himself against her again, and Talia moaned as she felt him hard against her thigh. His hand dipped under the edge of her dress, sliding higher and higher until she felt his fingers hook under the band of her lace knickers.

  He chuckled, his breath ragged against her ear. “You’re so wet.”

  Talia laughed breathlessly, then cried out as she felt his fingers begin to brush against her moist folds, teasingly working their way towards her clitoris. His other hand disappeared from its place beside her head; she heard the sound of a zip opening and then the sudden press of his hard cock against her centre.

  “Now,” she whispered, smiling as she heard him catch his breath. “Fuck me - “

  His response was with a force that made her squeal as, with one sharp thrust, he slid inside her to the hilt.

  As if in reply to their motion, a wave rushed in, lapping around their ankles. Talia leaned back and hooked one leg around Jay’s hip, moaning at the shift in angle, and tightened her inner muscles around him as their bodies crashed together.

  “Oh God,” Jay moaned, his mouth soft against her neck. “You’re so - “

  Another wave rushed in, showering them with spray as it slapped against the rock, and Talia cried out at the sudden shock of cold against her overheated skin. She pushed back against Jay, matching him thrust for thrust at just the right angle to press against her sweet spot as her excitement mounted, spiralling higher…

  Jay thrust again, harder, and Talia clung to him as pleasure exploded through her body, stars clouding her vision.

  “Oh!”

  With one last groan, Jay fell forward against her, and Talia held onto him as she rode out the aftershocks before slipping into completion.

  Afterwards, she couldn’t have said who made the decision. She remembered only riding back to the hotel in a taxi, jolting drunkenly with every pothole, and the emptiness of the seat beside her.

  ***

  “Good weekend?”

  Talia turned in her seat to face the owner of the voice, breakfast bagel in hand. “Hi, Lara. Yeah, pretty good, thanks.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Lara swept a section of blonde fringe behind her ear, making her chandelier earrings clink. “Can we talk in my office?”

  “Of course.” Talia stood, dropping the bagel back into its bag, and followed Lara across the central workspace to the office in the corner.

  Still no word from Jay.

  She had arrived home on Sunday evening, her phone switched on but resolutely silent. Checking it again that morning, there were no missed calls, no texts or voicemails. And now, at 9:30am, though she hadn’t expected him to drop into her office - and she was damned if she was going to pop her head into his - there still had been no contact. Not one word.

  It was just a weekend thing, a malicious little voice in her head told her.

  No. It had been more than that.

  A sea-soaked fuck on the beach, nothing more.

  Fuck it. She was at work. She had to keep her head clear.

  The office door closed behind her, and Lara pointed to a swivel chair before sitting down behind her desk. Talia sat, deliberately keeping her face neutral. Usually she and Lara were on the same wavelength - similar ideas, tastes in clothes, right down to the blue streaks in Lara’s hair that matched the lilac wash in Talia’s - but, after last week, it was best to be cautious.

  “I wanted to talk,” Lara began
, pulling a folder in front of her, “about your idea for a new burlesque lingerie line.”

  Really? Talia raised her eyebrows in her best expression of polite interest.

  “I did some research, and I agree with you. There is a niche in the market. So I’m asking you to choose a team of designers and head up this project. We can discuss it further when the team is set up.”

  “That’s great.” Talia mentally shook off her surprise. “I’ll get started today.”

  Lara stood up and Talia stood with her. As she turned to leave, Lara added “Oh, and you might want to consider some of the guys for the team. It’s good to have a male perspective.”

  “Thanks, Lara,” Talia answered over her shoulder, smiling. “I’ll make sure I do.”

  It was sitting in the middle of her desk when she got back.

  A small, velvety jewellery box, perched on top of her Bagel Nash bag. Sitting down, Talia picked it up and opened it. Inside, on a pillow of white silk, was a pair of trailing earrings in gold, diamond and aquamarine, designed in the style of a waterfall.

  A white card was tucked inside the lid.

  Call me, wet girl.

  Jay

  Unhooking one of the earrings, Talia let the sparkling strands drip through her fingers, watching the rainbow reflections.

  Her own team for the lingerie project.

  Should I ask Jay to join?

  It would be interesting to work with him. But then… maybe a little too interesting. The thought of having to remain professional over sketches of bustiers and basques sent her head into a spin.

  Maybe she should just ask him on a date instead.

  Talia turned over the card and smiled as she saw the mobile number written on the back. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she opened up a new text.

  Hi Jay,

  Tonight. Let’s get wet.

  Talia

  Skin

  By K D Grace

  We lose our skins here. Sometimes to the trappers

  Who hunt for their own greed,

  Sometimes to lovers who take us whole

  And hide our cloaks so that we must remain.

  Among them there are few who know who we are,

  But we are.

  From Part Thee and Me

  by Beth Winegarner

  I had to do a double-take. There was one lone person stood on the Cobb in the middle of the storm. How could there be anyone out there? I was hurrying back my cottage, not the smartest person on the beach for being out in this weather; well actually I was the only person on the beach. Except for the person on the Cobb. The storm had come up suddenly. When I’d headed out a few hours ago, it was sunny and warm. I had been sketching a lone harbour seal off and on for the past two days. She had been sunning herself on the rocks. Seals were something I seldom saw around Lyme Regis, so it had been a special treat to get so close to her. But when the weather took a sudden turn for the worse, we both went our separate ways, she probably more comfortably than I. I would miss her.

  “Hey! Hey! Get off there! Are you crazy?” I yelled and waved my arms like a nutter, the wind catching me and nearly toppling me over. I knew it was a waste of breath. Whoever it was out there on the Cobb couldn’t have heard me above the roar of the wind and the waves. Stupidly, I thought of The French Lieutenant’s Woman standing there looking out to sea. Then I blinked and whoever it was had vanished. Heart racing in my chest, I fumbled for my phone to call 999. But then I rubbed my eyes and it hit me, there wasn’t really anyone there. It had to have been my imagination. I could barely stand up in the wind on the beach. No one could have been standing out there. Even if someone had been, I certainly couldn’t have seen them in this weather.

  I was still thinking about the imagined person on the Cobb when I arrived at my cottage to find I wasn’t alone.

  “May I help you?” I made no attempt to keep the irritation out of my voice, hoping it would cover my nerves at the sight of the young man standing on the porch of my cottage. Yes it was tipping it down, horizontal rain, and the wind felt like it blew right off the polar ice cap, but an adolescent standing in an oversized anorak with nothing but the tip of a nose and the jut of a chin sticking out from under the hood did nothing to make me feel at ease.

  “I’m sorry. I just needed a place out of the rain for a few minutes.” The voice was the gravelly voice of an adolescent, not quite a man, yet no longer a child either, and the accent was strange, as though the shapes of the words were somehow new to lip and tongue. As I got closer to the porch, the boy threw back the hood and I realised that the boy was actually a young woman drenched to the skin even through her anorak. Her auburn hair hung in dripping tendrils around her face and onto her shoulders.

  “Besides,” she said, “I heard you call and…” She shrugged. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  My insides, which were already knotted, knotted still tighter. “You heard me call?”

  “From the Cobb, yes. I heard you call, and I just followed you.”

  “But you’re here before me, how could you have followed me?”

  “I just got here, honest.” She spoke between chattering teeth. “I was hoping for a place to wait out the storm.” She motioned back into Lyme Regis. “But there’s no place there.”

  “Certainly there’s no place on the Cobb. What were you thinking?” I said, then I nodded up the stairs. “Well you can’t stay out here. Come on inside where it’s dry.” God, was I out of my mind? I didn’t even know this chick and the whole thing felt sort of strange and stalker-ish.

  “You don’t mind?” she asked.

  “Of course not.” I wasn’t sure if I was lying of not, but I couldn’t leave her out in this horrid weather.

  “I’m Celia,” she said, as she followed me up the stairs, muddy walking shoes that looked way past their sell-by date gripped in one hand.

  “I’m Tess,” I called over my shoulder as I unlocked the door, and stood aside for her to go in.

  Inside she shrugged out of the oversized anorak, which looked, if anything, even older and rattier than the boots, then she stood dripping on the rug in the hallway, looking diminished and fragile in the anaemic light of the late afternoon storm.

  “Right. You need dry clothes,” I said. “I can lend you something. It’ll be huge on you, but it’ll do for now. I’ll put your clothes in the drying room to dry, then make us some tea, would you like that? Bathroom’s there.” I pointed.

  When I returned with a track suit and a t-shirt, I nearly dropped them on the floor at the sight of her. The door was wide open and she stood naked and goose-fleshed wringing the water from her clothes into the sink. She turned to face me as though being naked in the bathroom of a total stranger was nothing out of the ordinary, and my mouth went dry.

  Honestly, I never look at other women’s breasts. I mean I’m aware of my own, and I fondle them when I masturbate and rather enjoy the feel of them, but it was all I could do to pull my eyes away from Celia’s breasts. Hers were the kind of breasts all women dream of having, high and firm, like heavily iced cupcakes displayed in a bakery window, just enough to fill the cup of a hand and spill over the top to offer a soft swell to be kissed and nuzzled. And strangely enough I could picture myself doing just that. Her nipples pearled dark mauve and heavy atop the raspberry stippling of areolae that were impossibly tight and swollen from the chill, and I found myself wanting to chafe them in my hand and warm them with my breath, with my lips, with my tongue.

  Embarrassed, I lowered my eyes, but that wasn’t much better as my gaze followed the flat, hard muscles of her belly down to the tight nest of auburn curls resting protectively above her sex.

  “…Would that be all right?”

  I suddenly realised she was speaking to me. I forced my attention back to what she was saying, forced my gaze back to her lightly freckled face and milk chocolate eyes. “It’s just the most amazing bathtub, and I was just wondering if it would be all right. If I had a bath? I haven’t had a hot bath
in a long time, at least not a real one. I mean I’ll understand if you don’t want me to, ‘cos you really don’t know me, do you? And a bath is sort an intimate thing, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can have a bath,” I said, finding my voice with difficulty. “The big bathtub’s part of the reason I rent this particular cottage every year. Go ahead. It’ll warm you up faster than anything.” I nodded to the rose geranium bath bubbles on the edge of the tub, but she was already ahead of me. With a squeal of delight, she turned on the water full blast. She bent to pour in bubbles, leaving me with a view of the tightly muscled half domes of her buttocks. When she leaned forward to swish the water with her hand and test the temperature, resting one knee on the edge of the tub, they spread like two halves of ripe fruit displaying the dark round O of her anus and the flower-petalled folds of her pink pussy. I thought I would hyperventilate. I was suddenly wetter than I could ever remember being. I wanted desperately to touch her. I wanted to caress the valley that displayed her, from back hole to marbled clit. I wanted to slip a finger up into the opening shielded almost shyly by the folds of her labia. The air was thick with the rising steam of the bath. The scent of rose geranium barely masked the base note that was the tide pool scent of a woman.

  I somehow managed to settle the clothes onto the chest at the end of the tub. “Can I bring you something to drink? Tea, coffee, I have some wine?”

  She offered me an enthusiastic smile. “Red?”

  “Red it is then,” I said.

  When I returned, she was lying back in the large tub, her eyes closed, a soft smile pressed to her full lips. I could just make out the shapes of her breasts above the rising foam. She took the glass from me with a nod of appreciation and said, “please stay.” She motioned to the closed lid of the toilet. “I’ve not had anyone to talk to for a while and I’d like the company - that is if I’m not keeping you from anything important.”

  “Nothing important. I’m here on holiday,” I said, settling onto the closed toilet, pleased that she’d asked me to stay. “I’m an artist.” I shrugged. “Well I’m a very good hobbyist and I come here every year to paint and draw and walk and be inspired. You?”