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On The Beach

Copyright 1997 by Ellen Hayes.

No part of this work may be distributed as an original work by another
person or group.  Permission is given to redistribute this by electronic
means, as long as the entirety of the work is distributed, and credit is
given to the original author, me.  Any resemblance between the writings
in this work, and any actual persons or places, living or dead, are
purely coincidental, except when used for satirical purposes.

All rights reserved.

Furthermore,
This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult concepts, and
possibly sex.  If you are legally not allowed to read materials
containing such things, then you will be breaking the law by reading
this.  I am not responsible.
Continuing to read this document, or storing it or reproducing it
in any format means that you explicitly affirm that you are legally
allowed to possess and read such materials in your city, county/parish,
state, and country.


On The Beach


     After staring at the ceiling for a couple of hours, Andrea couldn't
stand it any more.  She slipped quietly out of bed, and grabbed her
shorts and a T shirt.  *Might as well wear a bathing suit,* Andrea
thought, hearing thunder.  *But they might think I was dumb enough to go
swimming in the undertow, in the dark.  Better not.*
     The mundane thoughts helped calm down the storm inside her.
     Her parents snored away in quiet sleep, unaware of anything besides
their dreams.  Andrea wished she was that lucky tonight.
     She quietly snuck out of the beachhouse and down to the water's
edge.  The waves were fierce tonight.  So was the wind.  It blew her
hair towards the sea, towards freedom, towards mindlessness.
     *Why?* she thought.
     She'd never wanted to come down to the beachhouse, but her folks
had a month off, and had wanted to play beach bums.  They wouldn't let
her out of it, either. She'd sulked the first couple of days, hating
every moment of it, until she'd met Darlene.
     Darlene was in the same boat, dragged along on her family vacation.
They had beachhouses a couple of houses apart.  They'd met while walking
on the beach, away from their respective families, and hit it off from
the first.
     Things had been so normal when she'd first met Darlene.  Except
that Dar was a couple of years older than her.  The difference in ages
was normally so important at school, but for some reason it didn't
matter between them.
     Dar had treated her a lot like a younger sister, and as a friend
too. They'd talked about their schools, the people they knew, how they
liked Galveston.  The two of them had gone down the Strand so many times
they had it memorized.  They'd bought each other little things.  Traded
clothes and jewelry.  Flirted together with the boys in town.
     The rain felt cold on her face.  She tried to watch the drops in
the dark, letting them splash into her eyes, her mouth, her hair.
     A kiss on the cheek was nothing.  She'd done that with some of her
own friends, back home.  Hugs - well, you could hug almost anyone,
couldn't you?
     And if it was cold, a warm arm across your shoulder was only the
nice thing to do.
     Andrea turned and began to walk along, the storm-tossed waves
rushing around her feet occasionally.
     The campfire they'd had half a week ago was when it had really gone
to hell.  That was when it had stepped over the line.
     Ironically, she'd been the one that had wanted it most.  They'd
taken food, a couple of blankets, a flashlight, and a couple of other
things down the beach to one of the camping areas.  It was pretty
deserted, being a weekday.
     When they found that the small fire wasn't quite enough to keep
them warm, Dar had suggested that they put their arms around each other.
It had been safe, comforting, wonderful.  Loving.
     When Darlene had moved her head to ask a question, Andrea had
kissed her.  Dar kissed her back.  Then they had stared at each other.
     Dar had slowly bent down and kissed her on the lips.
     Andrea had responded with a physical passion she'd never known.
     She was running down the waterline in the dark, as the rain
intensified.  Running, panting, fighting the sand and the water and the
wind.  Pushing herself.
     They'd showed each other things that neither had ever known, things
heard of in locker rooms or read secretively from adult magazines.  Dar
had confided shakily, as both of them rested, that she'd kissed a girl
once before, but nothing more.  Andrea had never kissed a friend like
that.  Regardless, they found themselves doing things to each other
they'd never dreamt of.  Or never admitted dreaming.
     When the sun had finally begun peeking over the horizon, they'd had
just enough energy to pull sand-encrusted clothes on and drag their gear
back to their respective houses.  Andrea had slept all day long.
     A larger wave surged all the way up to her knees, causing her to
stumble at the sudden resistance.  She caught herself with her hands,
but another wave crashed over her before she could get up.  The wind was
colder, now, and she was drenched.  She stayed on her hands and knees,
panting.
     "Why?" she asked the sand.
     The next night, Darlene had come over.  They, rather she had talked
about the campout, using unhappy words, painful words like "lesbian" and
"relationship".  And "love".  That hurt the worst of them all.
     Andrea had screamed denial, wishing that nothing had ever happened.
She didn't want to know, damnit!  Didn't want to think about it.  Didn't
want anything at all to interfere.  She knew how her life was going to
be; she had it all planned out.  College, job, husband, children, house,
the works.  Didn't want anything to change.  She just wanted it the way
it was.  Like it was supposed to be.
     They'd ended up yelling, at the end.  Andrea screamed that she'd
been trapped, that Darlene had planned this all along.  Darlene simply
shrieked denial.  Dar had been the first one to run away, sobbing.
Andrea had gone the opposite direction, running until she could no
longer hear either's cries.
     She got up, and walked further up the beach, shivering in the wind.
The rain was pelting her now, almost colder than the salt water that had
soaked her so thoroughly.
     "Why did this have to happen?" she asked the sky through half-open
eyes.  "It's too complicated."
     Sure, she'd enjoyed running around with Darlene.  Enjoyed cuddling
with her.  Looking at her body - who wouldn't?  She was so tan, and the
daily swimming she did kept her just taut enough.
     "That doesn't make me a lesbian, does it?  Any girl would have
looked, liked what she saw.  Anyone..."
     Darlene hadn't called for three days.  Her parents had come out of
their obliviousness to notice that something was wrong.  Andrea said
they'd had a fight.  Too bad, her parents said.  What a shame, and her
being such a nice girl, too.
     "Nice, hah!"
     The worst part was the dreams.  She'd never had such intense
visions before, of Darlene holding her, of them living in the beachhouse
forever, of taking her to prom, kissing, making love in the sand again,
in the sea, on a bed of cotton sheets...
     "WHY DO I HAVE TO BE A LESBIAN??" Andrea screamed into the wind,
her fists and arms and neck and legs and even toes all straining with
the question.  As if in answer, a bolt of lightning hit the ocean not
far away, the flash and sound simultaneous and stunning.
     She sensed, rather than clearly saw, the shape next to her.  She
shrieked, turning to run, wondering how she could have been so stupid to
be out here in a storm at two in the morning, instantly regretting
everything.
     "ANDY!" screamed the voice that had haunted her mind for the last
three days.  She stopped in shock, turned around.  She couldn't even see
a face, just a hole in the darkness.  Not that she needed to see.
     Darlene stepped closer, and shouted over the storm, "I don't want
to be one either!  It's nobody's fault!  It just happened!"  She took a
ragged breath, and Andrea realized Dar was crying again.
     "I didn't want to hurt you, I just wanted to be with you... you
were so nice... better than any friend I ever had..."  Andrea had to get
closer to understand what Dar was saying; she was speaking quieter and
quieter.
     "I didn't... I never..."  Andrea strained to hear the words until
she realized that Dar had her head in her hands, was sobbing without
speaking.
     Andrea wanted so badly to hold her, to comfort her, to tell her it
would be alright, that all was forgiven.  She stood there, her arms
wrapped around herself, staring as Dar cried.
     Darlene finally looked up at Andrea, her breath heavy and thick.
"I," she said, and choked, and collapsed to the wet sand.
     Andrea caught her as Dar began to cry again.  Soon, very soon, she
was crying herself, the pain that had been devouring her pouring itself
out in waves, like the waves a few feet away.  They held on to each
other as the storm raged on.
     "M-maybe w-we d-don't-t have to be l-l-lesb-bians," stuttered
Andrea in desperation, the words forced out by a power she didn't know
was in her.  "M-maybe we could just, just l-l-love each other..."
     Darlene stopped crying, she could feel it.  Dar sat up, and put her
sandy hands on Andrea's face.  "What?" she whispered in disbelief.
     Andrea felt her breath running away as she spoke.  "Maybe we could
just l-l-love each other, like friends, whatever that is, like the
campout, and everything.  We don't have to be l-lesbians to l-l-l-care
for each other, right?"  She sniffed, then whispered, "I don't want to
be a lesbian, I just want to be with you..."
     The world went to sparkles, and she felt everything twist, then
Darlene's arms holding her steady.  Holding her tight.  Stroking her
hair.  Making everything right again.
     Darlene eventually led her to the waves, where they washed the sand
off.  And the tears.  Andrea was the first to take off her sodden top,
and soon they were both naked as they placed their clothes under some
driftwood before running back to the water.
     The water caressed them as they made frantic love in the breaking
seas, and the storm winds echoed their cries.



"You can separate sex from teenage angst, but you can't separate angst
from teenage sex." - ehayes

"Tallyho!"     \   /    @>--,--'--  ehayes@nym.alias.net  + vicki .sig
Ellen Hayes -=(*)=(*)=- Renaissance Woman    ==[--------  + virus 9.1a


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