The Sands


The first time your short white fluffy dress whisked across my eye line my mouth forgot the words it was attempting to form.  Your feet moved quickly as though they were on a deadline, the crowds parted to allow you to pass and then consumed every trace of you.

Despite the split second encounter, I knew I’d regret not seeing your face.  A shadow had passed over my sun, unless I rectified it immediately the chill would surely seep into my night.

Without drawing attention to my objective, I shifted the conversation with my friend around to face your rapidly cooling trail.  There was plenty of colour, many attractive legs and a few classy heels but none that fitted the memory you had burned.

My friend had started a long slow topic, I had a full drink, there appeared few excuses that would suffice to escape a normally comfortable place.  Then I saw Mark, I grabbed the opportunity he presented literally with both hands, pulled him in and introduced my friend Georgia.  Both recently single, both having an intense interest in similar things, I knew she would understand and appreciate that our own rather less affectionate conversation could wait.

Having planted a seedling between them, I excused myself to allow them to germinate it alone and went in search of my white light.  My mind was open to any possibility, split second glimpses have often been best left that way. The betrayal of a first impression can be hard to accept but living with the regret of not knowing is at times much more damning.

Almost rushing past excluded bodies in an attempt to catch a thread of your afterglow, apologising for imaginary spillages and thanking happy strangers for anticipating my need. Breaking out of the mad throng into an unnaturally large space, I immediately felt vulnerable.

Directly in front of me about three metres ahead and standing alone is the skirt that caught my attention. Standing side on you don’t appear to have noticed my embarrassing escape from the mob.

Nowhere to hide to observe you, my legs refuse to move; my eyes too busy collecting dimensions before my imagination takes over.  You sway seductively to the music, your attention focused as the ocean rolls at you feet in the dim flicker of lights from the horizon.

Walking behind you retaining the same distance I realise why the crowd ended abruptly, the compressed sand of the summer club had ended and walking in the soft loose stuff was challenging.  Away from the crowd the night became more noticeable, the stars winked their goodbyes to an ageing orange sun as it traded places with the sprightly young blue moon.

What could I say without seeming cheap, how could I just talk without you thinking I was making a pass, could I walk away without offering a smile.  The simple answer was no, it didn’t matter what I said as long as I didn’t pinch your bum, you were just another person and even if you had a distinctive accent or a broken face, passing the time of day or night didn’t mean we were joined for life.  Not to smile however would be a regret, the shadow would return and engulf me; the moment would be lost for ever.

I approached you from the dark side, my best side in many eyes, I was about to speak, say something profound about the simple pleasures a clear night can give when I noticed the sparkle on your cheeks. Your eyes glistened in the moon rays more than normal and I realised you had been crying.

A lump formed in my throat, the still fresh inappropriate thoughts of the sexual pleasures your body might hold embarrassing me once again. I took a deep breath, adjusted my words and asked ‘Are you okay?’


The split second that your eyes were in my direction I’d swear they didn’t see me. Nervously I watched as your shoulder length hair shuttered back into place, the chance to see your colours lost. What now I asked myself as embarrassment washed over me for the third time in as many  minutes.

Arguing a case against existence in this time itself, one simple look had opened a hole in my foot that was in danger of swallowing me whole. The confrontation of the truth was sobering, why would an attractive girl discuss issues of emotion with a complete stranger.

The initial premise of my introduction was one of hopeful mutual attraction, I had made little effort to disguise my intentions, how then could I expect you to be receptive to sincerity or concern. I should seek out a rip in the distance and allow myself to be sucked from the beach before the world is damaged further by my presence.

Instead of the world ending in a flash of lightning and a thunderous crash, a soft yet determined voice reached into my ears, the words perfectly interpreted and yet so gently spoken, I had to check to be sure they had come from you. Assured that we were indeed alone I replied ‘Yes the night is beautiful, almost perfect’

And so our conversation began, you asked why I had said ‘almost’ and I explained perfection could only be, if it were shared. You seemed to understand despite my vague words, you asked who I would like to be sharing this moment in time with; for once in my life I had difficulty providing an answer.

The DJ raised the tempo in the party zone we had escaped, the evening was still young and the beach looked enticing. With a referring nod towards the music I asked ‘Would you like to walk a little way?’ hope coating my heart, you looked back longingly at the noise before turning to me for a second time. Judging by your smile I was worth the risk, for now. I would respect your faith.

We walked slowly, the soft sand making progress difficult even in bare feet. Our rhythm slowed until we became tuned, the occasional slip, an awkward attempt to assist without touching. Your outfit was simple and yet revealing, your skirt fluttered around your knees, a sleeveless top a second skin across your delicate breasts. My clumsy hands could not be trusted in a simple encounter with any part of your body, my wild electric imagination constructing the slightest brush into a major work of art.

At a point in view of the crowd away from the noise our conversation stopped us again, having steered away from my own personal imaginings, I tried to revisit the display of feelings before we met. My motives were genuine, had you just argued with a partner or lost something precious, it would be totally inappropriate to pursue the pathway of lust so clearly imagined. Instead the simple pleasures of your company would suffice. Despite the wickedly naughty pictures that float continuously within, my exterior has a full range of gentlemanly attributes.

Your expression is disheartening I feel my worst fears are to be realised until you say ‘you will think I’m really silly but its all of this’ hands encompassing the beach, water and party ‘this reminds me so much of home, a place I haven’t been for so long’

‘Do you miss home ?’ I ask with hesitation, instinctively knowing more was to come

‘So much and yet I don’t want to go just yet’

‘You are due to head home ?’

‘Yes Friday week’ your words tremble slightly as you turn to face to sea

I give you the time to recover, knowing exactly how explosive a mixture of emotions can be. The trip can be traumatic and yet exhilarating at the same time, fluctuating between a state of elation to desperate sadness and yet not knowing which emotion is truly justified.

Eventually you turn clearing your tears with already wet fingers ‘I’m sorry you shouldn’t spoil your evening, go back to your friends, I will be fine’

Shocked at the suggestion that any half decent bloke could leave a beautiful young lady in such a state I express my gratitude for your consideration of my own circumstances. ‘Of course you will be fine but hey my friends are all busy mating, I’d just be going home and unless you want me to leave you alone, I’d be delighted to hear more about home.’

You giggle at my cheekiness and we both smile, your eyes remain locked on mine for a few seconds longer each time, until I simply don’t look away. ‘You want to sit’ I ask deliberately extending the potential for our time together.

‘Look the sun is not far off the horizon, we should witness the end of the day’ With that you grasp your skirt and lower yourself to the sand gently.

I watch and am rewarded by a flash of white undies, only the slightest glimpse but enough for my mind to commence construction on a brand new highly detailed fantasy. Your breasts are totally covered by a thin layer of blue, the basis of support not obvious, but I notice a slight bump in the material where I imagine your nipples must be; was this there before.

I join you on the sand but lie rather than sit, my height always makes it awkward and besides lying next to a female, even fully dressed, the connections become very stimulating.

I wonder what thoughts are in your mind as you silently gaze towards the horizon, the burnt orange orb gradually slipping lower towards the sea. The silence between us grows, the potential for disaster is real, I search for the words to take charge and move forward.


The dance floor was packed. Petite round shoulders slid against muscular arms, silky dresses rubbed seductively against simple cotton blouses. Strangers touched intimately without ever meeting. This was a den of vultures and vixens alike, pouncing before a neighbour stole it’s prey.

Thrill upon thrill electrocuted the crowd, exciting them higher and higher. The beat marched mercilessly on, oblivious to the physical needs of the brethren. Outside the throng, onlookers rested before re-entering the feeding ground, water bottles littered the sandy floor.

Hands felt every part of her body, her skirt soiled with the sweat of more than one. Her legs felt fingers stray deliberately to every part of her, initially she’d rebelled but now her mind succumbed to the orders of the music.  She was enjoying the abandonment of conventional order, her mind had closed to the outside world and now all that was feeding her was the DJ’s charm.

Three hands was unusual but strangely exciting, particularly when they came from different sources. The first was hesitant and chubby, the back of his fingers moved up and down her right hip, his back was to her but he was short and hairy. The hem of her skirt edged higher as they gyrated gently out of rhythm.

Unable to move away, she adjusted to match his movements and the upward momentum of her skirt stopped.  Misunderstanding her intentions, his hand, now stationary on her thigh flipped, his palm and fingers clasping her upper thigh, his thumb strangely absent would be perilously close to her preciousness.

Acting swiftly her nails removed three clean strips of skin from the back of his hairy hand, there was no noise, no commotion just an empty space filled almost instantaneously by another.  The second hand was soft, with thin deliberate fingers, it touched her stomach as gently as her mother. The power within the finger tips clearly displayed as it massaged below her breasts around her belly button.

The third was overt; squeezing her bottom she could feel his desire attentive to the edge of her underwear. It was nice and smooth, deliciously enticing. She could feel the lace being worked slowly and surely back and forth across the very centre of her body. Streaks of excitement shot up her spine, mixing with the warmth from her tummy, the initial bubbles of euphoria growing into pure pleasure she knew she had to cork this bottle before the night was ruined.

The courtesy and sensitivity the third hand had displayed deserved more than the pain inflicted on the first, taking the hand in hers she raised it to her lips, starting with his thumb she sucked each finger clean. Reaching the wedding band she looked longingly into his eyes, still in time to the music and closed his world forever.

The girl wanted more, having witnessed the departure of the other two intruders the girl sensed her time was nigh. From behind she felt the second hand arrive to meet the first, imprisoned by two delicate arms she felt the unmistakable impression of a female body squeeze into her bottom.  Lips attached to her neck as the hands started to explore her breasts.

Taking advantage of the security and warmth for a few seconds she questioned whether indeed she wanted it to stop. Another time and place she would have led the way but tonight was different, tonight had another purpose, tonight would be so much more.

She turned within the arms of this beautiful stranger and kissed her soft juicy red lips as deeply and as passionately as she had ever kissed a girl before. Holding the girls face with her hands slowly their lips parted, she breathed gently into her mouth all the time keeping a watch on her glorious blue eyes. The music played on but they had stopped moving, she whispered an apology, turned and was gone before the girl realised what she had lost.


As summer venues go The Sandcastle is pretty special, supposedly only open when the heat is rising the bar serves everything a beach bum might expect, cold beer for the regulars, foreign wine by any measure and of course a full selection of cocktails to weaken the sturdiest of knees. 

By far the best seller though was the free bottled water, a huge draw card for locals where the tapped variety was best viewed being poured into a bottomless glass – literally. Had this not been modern Cuba, where life had exceeded the limitations of money years before, management might need to review its policy of free entry before sunrise. 

The dance floor was huge but never far from the DJ, the ancient speakers designed for a previous decade of style still translated a transcendental beat well enough. The ambience was serenity itself, how could it be anything less perched on the shore of a crystal blue lagoon with a perfect sunset guaranteed every night. 

People got lost every night, somewhere between the compressed sand floor and the angry blue polka dot sky. Not altogether by accident, many came for that very reason but no-one really knew just how lost they might get. 

In years gone by, the more or less educated depending on your viewpoint might suppose witchcraft was involved, evil demons or religious savours to blame, today we know its just part of the human condition. 

All sorts come to release their souls in the invisible mists of the music, take the freedom on offer to drift alone leaving their troubles at the door. In time their souls and bodies will meet and fall in love again, a fresh fire burning within with a reprogrammed spirit. 

Sally escaped the hungry hands of the dance floor, the third night in a row and she was now starting to appreciate this was no ordinary dance club. Anyone watching her path couldn’t help but be confused, angling deliberately towards the bar, fighting through the resident bodies, skirting a couple of layers across the face of the bar. Eventually, reaching the far side of the club less than a handful of yards from where she had danced, she squeezed out onto the private beach and drifted to the water’s edge. 

Of course this had been no more than an elaborate plan, there was reason behind this elusive course, her unsuspecting prey had been tempted she knew. She’d felt his body stir even without seeing it happen, it would be less than a minute before he too escaped the crowd; she dusted her cheeks and eyelids with a wet thumb, presented herself to the lowering sun above the horizon and waited.


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