The Night the Waves Were Electric

by A. J. Lucas

  He stood back and stared at me.

  “What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious for the first and only time since I’d met him.

  He grinned and turned my words around on me. “Felix…” he said, “…you’re really fucking hot.”

  I stared down at my body and noticed my obvious bulge. It was an inevitability in the suit — and to be honest, I quite liked the stares I got when I wore it in public. “I like you,” I said. “You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

  After checking the changing room once more to make sure we had everything we’d entered with, and taking another swig each from my water bottle of rum, Foster and I stepped out into the blazing California sunshine. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust — I was jealous of the sunglasses he was wearing — but when they did, I realized there was someone standing there watching us, hands on his hips.

  Harrison. Grinning at us.

  “Well, hello there,” he said. “What were you two up to in there together?” Foster looked to me for clarification, so I stepped forward and pulled Harrison into a hug, careful not to press my groin up against him. He was straight. He wouldn’t like that like Foster had.

  “Hey, man! Good to see you!” I said. When I let him go, I realized he was staring at Foster still, so I added, “This is my friend Foster. He was just helping me zip up my wetsuit. You made it over here fast!”

  Seeming satisfied, Harrison stepped forward and shook Foster’s hand. It was like a switch flipped in the kid; he flashed that brilliant smile, his nerves completely gone. It was like he was standing differently, too, projecting more of a masculinity than he had when I’d had him whimpering with my head down between his legs.

  After they had introduced each other, we headed down toward the water, weaving in between sunbathers, laughing families, and more than one pushy vendor selling boogie boards and buckets for sandcastle-making. I desperately wanted to hold Foster’s hand while we walked, but I wasn’t sure he was ready for Harrison to know there was something between us, so I held myself back.

  Harrison said he wasn’t that upset I’d left him hanging, cause he’d gotten coffee at the same place Foster and I had met that morning, and had gotten the number of the beautiful black girl I’d taken notice of earlier.

  At this, Foster looked at him, shocked. “Wait, two things,” he said. “First: you’re straight?!”

  Harrison cackled, “Yes. Did you tell him otherwise, Felix?”

  I threw up my hands in mock protest. “Don’t look at me! He made that assumption all on his own. That swimsuit is pretty gay, man.”

  As we reached a relatively empty spot of beach a few yards from the waterline, Harrison looked down at the sky-blue short-shorts he was wearing, which were patterned with hot pink slices of watermelon. He looked up at us and we both laughed at the expression of defeat on his face. “Fair point,” he said. “Okay, you said two things. What’s the other?”

  “The other is that Cassie is one of my best friends!” Foster answered, spreading out his towel again and sitting down. “We grew up together. She’s the best.”

  “What are the chances!” Harrison said. “Small world.”

  “I love Venice,” I said, sitting in the sand. Harrison did the same. “It’s crazy-weird, and super busy and close to the rest of LA, but it feels like… I don’t know, like a small New England town sometimes.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Foster said. “Everyone’s all up in each other’s business.”

  Just then, a tanned white guy in a pink thong and long dreadlocks walked through our trio, leaving a cloud of pot smoke trailing behind him.

  I sighed. “You don’t really get that in New England, though, do you.”

  “You certainly do not,” Foster agreed, laughing. “It’s like that guy showed up just to disprove your point.”

  I took the bottle of rum out of my bag and passed it around. Before I could stop him, Harrison had downed the entire remaining amount. He smacked his lips exaggeratedly. Foster looked impressed.

  “You asshole,” I said.

  “Good thinking, bringing that,” Harrison said, pulling a water bottle full of amber liquid of his own out of his bag. “Luckily, I also had the same thought.”

  I repeated, “You asshole.” He handed his bottle to me and I gulped down a fair bit of it myself. “There, now we’re even.”

  “You boys like to drink,” Foster said.

  “I bet you’re no lightweight yourself, college boy,” Harrison said.

  Foster tipped his head. “Fair.”

  I liked a guy who could hold his liquor and found myself imagining a night on the town with him, imagining showing him off to all the straight couples at some dive bar along the boardwalk. I loved hitting those places with a guy on my arm, making all the heteros wonder what we got up to “in the privacy of our own bedrooms,” where they seemed to always want to talk about us having sex. I knew we looked good together, and I wanted them to know it, too.

  “So wait, Har,” I said. “You hooked up with a different girl last night, and got another number this morning? What a player!” I immediately regretted asking. It crossed my mind that I was doing the same exact thing, and for a moment I worried that Harrison would call me on it and that Foster would be upset.

  But my friend liked to brag about his own exploits, so he launched right into telling us the story of the girl from Santa Monica the night before. As we sat there and listened, Foster’s hand brushed casually against mine, and then he not-as-casually slipped his fingers overtop of mine, holding on to each other there in the sand.

  5 - FOSTER

  The afternoon passed in a haze of impossibly beautiful bodies, shining sun, and the ever-present sound of crashing waves. The dream I’d had trouble shaking off that morning felt like a distant memory, something I’d heard about happening to someone else once; I’d traded the worries of the past few months for a hunky new surfer and his goofy, straight best friend, and I was in the best mood I’d been in in recent memory.

  Hooking up with Felix in the changing room had been incredibly hot. It was the first time anyone had touched me like that since Jason. I thought I would have been more nervous, but the moment he wrapped his hand around the back of my head and pulled me in close, it all just felt right. There was something protective in his touch, something that said, “I’m not just here for your body; I’m here for you.” I’d melted.

  Back in the day, before Jason, I’d been all about mindless, anonymous sex. I loved a hookup, loved making a man chase me, loved giving myself to him and then walking away, leaving him going out of his mind for more. But Jason had given me something I didn’t realize I was craving, an intimacy I didn’t realize was possible. And when it was gone, I thought I’d never get it back.

  But now here was Felix. We’d only known each other a few hours, but it was already so easy to be around him that I was giddy.

  “Foster,” Felix said, startling me. I’d been lost in thought.

  “What? Sorry.”

  “Where’d you go?” he sounded like he was being casual, but I thought I detected a note of genuine concern in his voice, and way those sparkling blue eyes were narrowed ever-so-slightly told me I was right.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Just daydreaming. What’d I miss?”

  Harrison said, “I was just asking what you do.”

  Great. “I’m a college student,” I said, digging deeper into the lie I’d already told once that day. “A film student, actually.”

  “Hey, awesome,” he said. “I’m a photographer. Where do you go?”

  “Oh, in New York,” I said.

  “Really?” Felix said, sounding surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yep. But I much prefer LA. New York is way too cold in the winters. Have you guys ever been there?”

  “Agreed,” Harrison said, looking around at the crowd around us. “I could never live in New York… couldn’t imagine being so far away from so many babes in bikinis.”


  “Ohhhkay,” said an exasperated Felix. “Stop shoving your heterosexuality down our throats.”

  “You wish,” countered Harrison, waggling his eyebrow suggestively.

  At some point, Harrison left us by ourselves, volunteering to go grab three burgers from a shack along the path. I hadn’t eaten since that morning and was surprised to find that I was starving.

  The minute Harrison had his back turned, I leaned over and kissed Felix, surprising even myself. He pulled back and looked at me, eyes wide. Then, he flashed me that wicked grin and nodded his head toward the ocean.

  “Wanna go swimming?”

  “What about our stuff?” I asked. We were surrounded by our towels and various bags full of sunbathing supplies.

  He scanned the crowd, noticing an elderly couple a few yards away. They were reclined in beach chairs under an umbrella, sunglasses on, adorably holding hands in the shade. They didn’t look like they’d be going anywhere any time soon.

  “Hey, excuse me?” Felix said, standing up and walking over to them. The old woman lifted her head and even from a distance, I could tell she was looking Felix up and down appreciatively. He gave her the same smile he’d given me that morning and said, “Would you guys mind watching our stuff while we go for a quick swim? It’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

  The man started to decline, but his wife slapped his shoulder. “Of course, dear,” she said. “You go right ahead. We won’t let anyone touch it.”

  Felix held out his hand and helped me up off the sand. After I stripped off my tank top and tossed it overtop of my tote bag, he guided me toward the waves. I liked holding his hand like this, in front of the hundreds of people on the beach, not caring who saw or what they thought of us. His ass looked fantastic in the wetsuit, perfectly round and firm, and I looked forward to being able to see it without the covering again sometime soon.

  When we reached the water line, Felix turned to me and asked, “You… do know how to swim, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” I scoffed. “Did you miss the part where I literally grew up on the beach?”

  “And yet you don’t surf!” he shot back. “Just figured I’d clarify!”

  With that, he dove into the water, vanishing beneath a wave. I stood there for a moment, surprised at just how perfectly he’d managed what looked like a swan dive from standing on level ground. Then he re-emerged a dozen yards out, his curly hair matted to his head. “Come on, slowpoke!” he called out.

  I waded into the water and realized right away what had happened — the sea floor sloped away rapidly, but there was a rock right where Felix had jumped from, giving him leverage to appear to dive.

  Instead of attempting something similar and doubtless making a fool of myself, I sank fully down into the water and swam towards him, breast-stroke. The ocean was unseasonably warm for June, and it felt fantastic after sitting in the sun for hours.

  When I reached Felix, I realized he was standing on a sand-bar rather than treading water. We had gotten out farther than most of the swimmers without me even realizing it. Normally, I would have been a bit nervous, but Felix’s presence was so calming that I didn’t worry about getting caught in a riptide. For a moment I entertained a fantasy of him having to rescue me, needing to perform CPR, and my heart skipped a beat at the idea.

  How teenager of you, I thought. Your whole entire cock has been in his mouth. You don’t need to fantasize about a nonsexual mouth-to-mouth.

  Felix pulled me close, making sure I was secure on the sandbar. “I love when the tide is right and I can swim out here,” he said.

  “This is cool,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever been out this far. How did you know where it was?”

  “You have to watch the waves,” he said. “They tell you what’s underneath.

  I looked around. They all looked the same to me; we were far enough from shore that we were mostly just bobbing up and down, nothing actually cresting around us.

  He kissed me. His lips tasted saltier than before, the sea water still dripping all over his face, and I thought: if he spends this much time on the water, this is probably his normal taste. I liked it.

  I pressed my body into him, wrapping a leg around his to stay upright against the ocean’s attempt to knock us off our feet. I could feel him stiffen beneath the wetsuit, and the sensation excited me, too. With one hand around his neck, I reached down with the other and gripped his shaft through the rubber suit.

  “Fuck,” he breathed. “That feels so weird.”

  “Sorry,” I said, taking my hand away. He grabbed me by the wrist and directed my hand back to his groin.

  “No,” he said, “Keep going. Weird is good. It’s different. It’s—” his breath caught as I slid my hand up and down his length.

  Before I realized it, we’d shifted positions and he was leaning into me, his arm around my back so that he didn’t drift away from me. I liked that feeling; he’d been in total control in the changing room, but now, here, I was in charge. He was taller than me and stronger than me, but I was supporting his weight in the water as I stroked his cock through his wetsuit.

  I tried to kiss him while I did it, but we both went underwater and came up spluttering. He laughed that open-mouthed, carefree laugh, his eyes shining in the sunlight reflected off the water, and I felt myself falling for him even more.

  I hugged him closer to me and kept rubbing up and down his cock, quickening the pace. With my other hand, I squeezed his ass through the wetsuit; it was as firm and round as I’d hoped, and it was actually hotter, kinkier, with the layer of rubber between my palm and his flesh.

  Just as he muttered, “Fuck, Foster, you’re gonna make me cum,” there was a shout from the shoreline.

  “Hey! You two! Burgers!”

  We both stood up straight on the sandbar, our heads whipping around to the beach. Harrison was standing at the water line, waving a bulging paper sack in our direction.

  “Again?” I groaned, taking my hands off of Felix.

  “Fucking cock-block,” Felix said. “Well, I can’t finish now, with him staring… c’mon, we may as well go back.”

  I met his eyes apologetically. “Are you sure you’re okay to… y’know, emerge from the water like James Bond, considering…”

  That wicked grin again. “Let’s give ‘em a show.” Then he frowned and looked around at the water, which was suddenly murky, a reddish-brown color instead of clear and blue. “That’s odd,” he said.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Thought you could read the waves?” I teased, and he dunked me underwater.

  We swam back toward the beach, and when we hit the shallows, I got out first and walked over to our towels while Felix remained crouched in the water. I checked my tote bag quickly; everything was still there. Half a dozen missed calls from Mom. Those would have to wait.

  “What’s he waiting for?” Harrison asked, munching on a French fry as he tossed me a burger. I unwrapped the foil and watched Felix hunkering down in the sand, an impish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  When he saw we were both observing him, he swam back a few meters and sank below the surface just as a wave crested over his head. Then, without warning, he erupted from the ocean and strode toward us, and, damn, he did look like James Bond, if, in that infamous scene of James Bond coming up out of the water, he’d been sporting not just a Speedo-clad bulge but a full-on erection.

  It was unmissable. Heads turned as he walked toward us, and I swore I heard the old lady who’d been watching our belongings whisper, “Holy fuck.”

  Harrison gawked, openmouthed, as Felix sat cross-legged on his towel and took a burger for himself. He unwrapped it and put half the thing in his mouth with one bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully before saying, “Thanks for grabbing these, Har.”

  “Dude,” Harrison said, looking around to see if we were still being stared at. We were. “Your… did you notice…”

  Felix
shrugged. “And?”

  Harrison raised his eyebrows but said nothing, opting instead to shove another handful of fries in his mouth. Something seemed to occur to him, and after swallowing, he asked, “Wait so the two of you when you were out on the sand bar just now, were you guys, like…”

  Felix looked at me as if asking for permission, and I felt my entire body go fuzzy and warm, like I’d just taken another big gulp from the bottle of rum that had run out hours ago. I wanted this straight guy to know what I’d just been doing to his friend, and I found that I didn’t care who around us overheard.

  Instead of giving Felix the go-ahead to confirm, I said, “Yeah, we were. And?” Felix grinned, proud of me.

  Harrison laughed. “Wow. You guys are so shameless. Wait, so, is Foster here the guy from this last night? Er, the one from this morning?”

  The warm feeling disappeared and was replaced by something like liquid ice. What?

  Felix’s eyes flashed with surprise, shame, and anger, like a child resentful of the fact that he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He jerked his head quickly to the side in what I assume was supposed to be a sneaky shut the fuck up motion, but of course I caught the gesture.

  Harrison immediately realized his mistake and said, “Oh, I just figured he—”

  “What guy?” I asked, trying to sound neutral but unable to stop an edge from creeping into my voice. I hated the way the question sounded, like I was whiny and needy and accusatory of this guy I’d just met, who really, if you thought about it, owed me no explanation whatsoever.

  “Nobody,” Felix said, at the same time Harrison said, “I assumed you were the guy Felix hooked up with last night.” He tried again. “I mean, I assumed Felix would have told you about the guy he hooked up with last night, given that you guys are… friends…?”

  There it was. Felix was a player, a man-whore who would probably toss me aside when the next twink caught his eye. I had been imagining our connection, assuming there was some emotion behind the lust, when in reality he just wanted to use me to get off.