Adventures of Pebble Beach

by Berger, Barbara

  Jeans off, he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her down on the bed, pinching her nipples hard between his fingers. She moaned. He was on top of her, his body firm as his breath quickened. His heat matched her heat.

  In one swift movement, his throbbing penis found its way into her – like a ship finding safe harbor in the storm – and she was so hungry that her wetness allowed him to find the full depth of her need immediately. She spread herself wide, hiding nothing, laying herself bare. With all her years, Pebble had finally left shyness behind on the dusty road of life for other women to waste precious moments on. Whatever else he was or was not, Albert was a man of power, and for the moment, he was hers. Life had given Pebble enough wisdom to know at least that.

  Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.

  And Albert, his flashing French eyes closed, surrendered to the sensualness that was his heritage. His mind went blank as he plunged himself into her depths, no longer able to wait for her to follow. He had watched her body, her lips, her eyes for far too long – to be able to control his need any longer. But Pebble was right there, matching his simmering need and lightning speed – like a sleek racehorse plunging recklessly forward when the gates are finally opened.

  All at once, everything was perfect. Their rhythm, their bodies, their need. Everything. Whatever else was in this world, whatever else would be, at that split second in time and space, Pebble and Albert finally found each other in all their infinite depth as the stars exploded in the hot afternoon sun. Every cell, muscle, hair and heartbeat was locked together tightly. And for one intense moment, Pebble and Albert were as close as two human beings can be.

  * * *

  The next morning, Pebble felt more than a little ridiculous as she spread her battery of sun potions out on the towel before her. This impressive arsenal of anti-aging, anti-wrinkle sunscreens was the result of one mad rush of shopping the day before Albert was scheduled to meet her at Copenhagen airport.

  Now on the pebbled beach of Hvar, Pebble surveyed her investment in eternal youth in amazement. She couldn’t quite decide if it was comforting or not to know that all over the world women Pebble’s age were like weather vanes – predicting the mood of millions while the prosperous cosmetic industry chuckled madly at the advent of all the wrinkles appearing on the faces and bodies of women around the world. The prospect of aging is just no fun at all. Pebble hated the thought of other people cashing in on her fear of aging. But what’s a woman to do? Especially when she’s over 40 and she gets a look at the competition parading around half-naked on every beautiful island and beach in the world? It’s just not fair…

  Pebble had invested (wisely or not) in every one of Clinique’s anti-wrinkle sunscreen for the body and face preparations plus Clinique’s targeted protection stick (SPF 45) for the sensitive areas like the nipples, nose, lips and cheekbones. The secret is to get brown without getting old. Not that anybody knows how to accomplish that.

  When she was racing around spending all her money on sun potions and a new bathing suit, she kept repeating her slogan from that day at Irene’s –Pebble Beach for Pebble Beach! Pebble Beach for Pebble Beach! A basic part of Irene’s therapy was that Pebble was supposed to learn to do good things for herself and discover the joys of taking care of “her”. Which was more difficult than it seemed.

  Irene said astonishing things like, “Splurge, Pebble, splurge! Life’s a party.”

  And when Pebble countered with tales of her limited budget, her two teenaged boys, her always-empty refrigerator, Irene had bounced back, “Life is a party. And You Deserve Some Fun.” Irene always asked Pebble what she was waiting for? “Are you going to wait until you’re 92 and can barely see, hear or walk?” But surely Irene didn’t mean such expensive extravagance as buying tons of idiotic sun potions which promised eternal youth? Will I end up looking half as good as Catherine Zeta-Jones if I do? Oh please God, yes…please! Pebble knew something was fishy in the state of Denmark, but didn’t have time to question the logic of all the things in her head that were screaming for attention. Irene insisted that Pebble buy herself two new things every day. Two new things – the woman must be mad… But Irene insisted – even if she had to force herself. “It’s high time you discover that you can be the source of your own pleasure, Pebble…and I don’t just mean masturbating…” Pebble had trouble daring – risking pleasure for herself. She had trouble doing for herself…She remembered racing out of Magasin du Nord clutching all her jars and tubes and lotions thinking, Irene would never spend so much money on anything so frivolous as anti-aging sun block…or anti-wrinkle aftersun…just think of the practical shoes the woman wears…any fool can see she’s never dyed her hair or gone on a diet…so how can she possibly know? Pebble was becoming a little more selective (and critical) when it came to Irene’s advice. After all, I’m the one who’s got to pay the bills, right? Following Irene’s advice to the letter could lead to catastrophe…Just think of what will happen to us if I’m this good to myself more than once every ten years… The thought was positively unnerving.

  But now, sitting on her big blue beach towel, right smack in the middle of the nudist colony Albert insisted they go to, Pebble was glad she’d binged on beauty the way she did. A stupendous array of tits and ass were promenading along the beach before them. It was absolutely disheartening. And they’re not only young – they’re younger than I’m ever going to be again in my whole life. The thought was positively alarming. It’s just not fair, after all I’ve been through, after all I’ve learned…that I’m never going to get a shot at being young again…For the first time in my life, I’m better equipped to be young than ever before…and now it’s too late. She knew it was a fruitless line of thought. Her brain felt like an old, worn-out strainer anyway, the holes too big to catch a single worthwhile thought.

  Last night’s repeated lovemaking, and the wine, the music and the lovely balmy air of the Mediterranean, were much more than Pebble could handle. Suddenly being so far away from Copenhagen and the heat of battle made her feel unreal. The bone-hard struggle to find herself and support her sons had evaporated like a bad dream. She felt disconnected, disoriented, happy, free and confused. Albert’s body was the only reality she could touch. So she covered herself from head to toe with suntan lotion as Albert sat chatting with an equally naked French couple who parked themselves and their voluptuous teenaged daughter right next to Pebble and Albert.

  They were speaking French and Pebble didn’t understand a word they were saying, so she didn’t pay much attention to them…but instead allowed herself the splendid luxury of drifting off in the sun-filled world of her own thoughts…As soon as she closed her eyes and relaxed, the battleground of her daily life appeared brilliantly before her eyes. It’s like the big screen exercise I did with Irene. And since she had already tried it before, she decided to let it happen again. To just let her thoughts appear at random on the inside of her mind without editing or judging or anything. The first person she encountered was Peter Cato. What is with that man…? Then, being so far away from home, she suddenly saw it wasn’t him, but her relationship with him that was the problem. I’ve been much too submissive…I let him take advantage of my talent and become successful because I have some kind of inferiority complex. Basically, I guess I don’t really believe in my own worth…that I’m a valuable person – so instead, I acted like a jerk…And now I’m mad at myself because of what happened because of my own insecurity. Today, I wish I’d behaved differently…but it all happened two years ago when I was somebody else…I can’t keep on blaming myself for what I did then. Now is now. Now is different, and I’m different, too. Everything’s different. Even the Nordkyst campaign I did then is old hat now. Nobody remembers a thing, it’s all dead and buried…Or so I thought…until I started talking to Irene about it. She says it’s not dead and buried – that it’s not over, that it’s never too late. Not as long as I feel the way I do…She says it’s not a question of winning anything or of getting back at anyone – i
t’s my own self-esteem we’re talking about…But how can I bring it all up now? Won’t it seem pretty ridiculous? Won’t I seem pretty ridiculous? Besides, the thought of facing Peter practically scares me to death…I wonder why he makes me feel like that? I mean where’s all my courage gone off to? But the thought of confronting Peter wasn’t at all pleasant to imagine. What would I say? She saw herself standing in his office, like a tongue-tied little school girl – when the big screen in her head went blank. At least Einar’s different. Maybe he’s manipulated me too, but I know he respects me because he treats me like a human being – and not like a second-class citizen. Still, she wasn’t quite sure this was true. Pictures of Einar the Worm panting heavily, pawing all over her naked body as he did in her dream flashed through her brain. I know the man would like nothing better than to touch me all over…and maybe I wouldn’t mind so much if he just wasn’t so physically repulsive…which is pretty embarrassing since I’m supposed to be this enlightened, modern woman…and see beyond the exterior to the inner soul…I guess when it comes to being spiritual I’m just a miserable failure. I’m just as concerned about looks as anybody else…I wonder why it’s like that…I mean, Albert’s so good in bed and so good-looking – but what do I really see in him? Her inner turmoil and confusion were frightening to contemplate, so she got up and plunged headfirst, right into the cool water. Oh this is life… She felt the sea wash away the battles raging inside…Life really is so simple.

  When she finally emerged from the world of cool blueness, Albert broke into her reverie by shouting happily, “Come, Pebble, I want you to meet someone…”

  She was surprised at the excitement in his voice.

  “Gilbert and Claudine are from Chamonix,” he said gesturing towards the couple he’d been chatting with. “Isn’t that a coinci-dence?” Pebble smiled in amazement. Chamonix, a small village and famous ski resort in the French Alps, was Albert’s hometown. “They even know my sister and her husband and the little ski hotel they own on the outskirts of town.”

  “Really?” Pebble picked up her towel, and in an attempt to hide her naked body a little from these complete strangers, she pretended to dry herself as she walked towards them.

  Albert introduced Pebble formally to Gilbert, Claudine and their daughter, even if everyone was naked. “And this is Stephanie, their daughter.”

  Pebble shook hands with the three of them. “I’m sorry, but I don’t speak French.” Pebble was quite content with the fact that she had such a good excuse not to be sociable – she preferred lying in the sun by herself. Albert, who’d been stranded on Greenland for almost a year, seemed to relish their company. The conversation became animated. Pebble nodded and smiled occasionally and noticed that Claudine’s fading Gallic beauty was fully revealed in her stunning daughter stretched out close by. I know I must be a little dazed by the sun, but I wonder why Stephanie persists in lounging about with her legs spread a little too far apart. I guess it’s just my imagination. Looking at Albert, she noticed how his eyes followed every female shape on the beach. Well, why shouldn’t he? I just wish this had been a regular beach and not a nudist colony…I’d really rather hide some flesh. Pebble would have felt more comfortable wearing the tight black bathing suit she’d bought in Magasin du Nord.

  But since there was nothing she could do about anything, she rolled over on her stomach and let the warm sun beat down on her back. At least I won’t get wrinkles on my face in this position. She was almost asleep when visions of the power struggle in Denmark came to mind again. I wish I could get to Monica Soderland…I wonder how she would react if she found out that I created that first successful Nordkyst campaign…maybe she’d give me a shot at their new one… The thought jolted Pebble awake. As she sat up to think about it, she noticed that she could see a little too much of Stephanie’s vagina from where she was sitting. When she turned, in one sweep, to look at Albert’s eyes behind his sunglasses, she realized he had discovered the same thing.

  What difference does it make? Being philosophical didn’t work, she was furious. It does make a difference – damn it! At that very moment, as Albert laughed about something Gilbert was saying, Stephanie shifted her golden thighs a trifle…and the deep rose-colored lips of her young flower opened a tiny bit more in Albert’s direction. Pebble watched his eyes follow her movement behind his dark glasses. She ought to be shot. Pebble felt much hotter than she should have in the afternoon sun. Only a young girl would do something like this to an older woman! Pebble turned over on her towel and pouted. Unfortunately, it was much too easy to imagine Albert holding onto those young, perfect thighs…

  Chapter 20

  Two evenings later, when the air turned balmy, they went out to dinner with Albert’s new friends. Pebble was luminous after another day of sun and sea, spiced by another afternoon of hungry lovemaking on their soft, wide bed at Le Chateau du Mer. So Pebble wore white with amazing grace, not only because it highlighted her new suntan, but because it accentuated the deep sensuality she was experiencing as well.

  She enjoyed looking at herself in the mirror – and the glimpse of Albert behind her. He was a strong, vigorous man, and the movements of his body as he buckled his wide leather belt around his waist gave her great pleasure. When he saw her watching him, he smiled back at her image in the slightly tarnished mirror, “This is better than slaving away in Copenhagen, isn’t it?”

  She returned his warm smile, but deep in her heart, she wasn’t sure. There was no way of getting around it – she was at a critical point in her career. The little voice inside just wouldn’t roll over and die. Not for love or money or blissful orgasm. The fundamental need to take control of her own life was too strong. And it’s not just my career – this is a critical point in my life, too! She didn’t talk about it with Albert, though. He wasn’t a man of all seasons, so how would he understand? His winter world of he-men and Eskimo women was a world of black and white, inhabited by good guys and bad guys. That was his way of dealing with reality. Make things clear cut. Though he never mentioned it, Pebble was sure he considered her boss a bad guy. Albert’s not all that different from Slim when you think about it. She hadn’t realized it before. Getting away from your life for a few days sure does put things into perspective. Not that she particularly wanted to cultivate that perspective right then and there. I’m here to have fun…remember, kiddo? Still, his remark made her want to tease him a little, so she playfully threw her arms around him and said, “How come you don’t like my job?”

  He smiled and kissed her gaily on the check. “How come?” He didn’t want to deal with the hot potato she chucked at him either. “You don’t really want to know…do you?” He held her at arm’s length and regarded her well-proportioned figure. “If you had any idea how jealous I get thinking of you spending all your time in the office next to Einar…How do I know you won’t run off and marry him…The guy probably makes more in a month than I make in a year…” He glanced at his watch. “Come Chérie, we’re late.”

  The first glass of wine at dinner, before any food arrived, made Pebble strangely lightheaded. I forgot we were going out with a bunch of people I can’t talk to. It irritated her suddenly, to be cut off from Albert like that. This was supposed to be their week of romance together. Not her sitting at a table with a bunch of people gabbing away in French. The conversation was animated indeed with everybody stuffing hot crusty bread into their mouths and talking at the same time. Pebble was only an outsider, sitting silently, sipping her wine. What am I doing here? Again, she realized it wasn’t her choice. So this is my whole life in a nutshell? Or what? I let the other guys do the choosing for me…and I just kind of let myself get carried away until I realize I’m not going in the direction I want to go in… It was a strange, upsetting thought. To be forty-something and not in control…

  Gilbert looked much better with his clothes on, no question about that. He had graciously pulled back Pebble’s chair for her and was now seated on her left. They smiled occasionally at e
ach other, and he tried his few words of broken English out on her. Claudine seemed more elegant and relaxed, too and Pebble wondered if they’d made love that afternoon, too. Stephanie, cheeks flushed and dressed in a tight-fitting, low-cut, red dress, eyed every man who entered the restaurant.

  Why did everyone drink too much?

  Why did Pebble feel left out?

  Why was the moon almost full in the sky above?

  “Albert?” Pebble said when they’d finished their dessert.

  “Yes, my dear?” He turned towards her, his face warm and alive with the pleasure of being with people from his home town.

  She was planning on asking him to wind up their conversation and leave. She wanted to go walking through the village with him in the moonlight, but looking at his face, she knew she couldn’t. He just wouldn’t understand. To him, the night was young, and the release of strong wine and good company made his eyes sparkle. He would only think Pebble was acting like a sour puss if she asked him to leave his newfound friends now. “It’s nothing…”