Her mouth was hanging open, she was sure, in a very obvious and embarrassing way.  Shyly she cast her eyes down and ever so subtly shook her head.  What was she playing at this wasn’t her…she, Lynn Serst, had never been brash enough to flirt.  She blushed and felt squeamish just watching her friends fawn over the crop of summertime fun boys at the beach which was why she had excused her self to the cabana.   

“I’m feeling a little off, maybe all this sun is giving me a slight headache, I’ll just go up and order some food,” she had told them, and it hadn’t been a complete lie.  Something down on the beach had definitely left her feeling ill she just couldn’t bring herself to tell her friends it was the noxious cloud of lies, desperation, and coconut oil wafting off of them.  So she had strolled happily taking long strides in the warm sand loving the sensation of her ponytail kissing her bare skin.  However, one step into the manufactured breeze beneath the shade of the cabana’s straw roof had stolen her easy and relaxed vibe. 

In its place was some sex soaked tension which caused her to pull back her shoulders and cock her hip.  On autopilot she ordered a drink and sat at a table for two with an unobstructed view of the ocean and waiter who had caught her attention.  Yes he was good looking, with great hair and a nice tan, but that wasn’t what had her panting between parted lips.  He was dancing.  Just a few steps and sways as he moved from table to table or carried drinks complete with little umbrellas, but the way he did it had kicked her core temperature so high it felt like her blood was at a simmer.  He shifted his weight and pivoted so quickly she didn’t have time to refocus her rapt attention and he caught her staring.

He smiled as he walked over to her table while she did her best to not react, and heaven help her, stop the flush in her checks from coloring her head to heals.  She took a large gulp of her drink to hide her hanging jaw, but sputtered as the burn of vodka slid down her throat, what the hell had she ordered.

“Sex on the beach,” he asked as he came level with her table.

“Excuse me,” was all she could manage well aware that she had lost the battle with her blush.

“Want another,” he asked pointing to her drink smile still in place though now noticeably wider.

She rested her head in her right hand and focused on the table top.  “No, um… better not,” she said finally looking up at him with a slight grimace.

“Oh,” he said confusion written across his face, “I got it.”

The second he left she let he head fall.  “Smooth Lynn,” she said to the table top, “just finish your drink and go before this gets any worse.”  She finished the drink in one go which left her paralyzed by a cold induced headache just behind her eyes. 

The sound of ceramic hitting Formica caused her to look up as he pushed a slice of chocolate cake toward her.  “What’s this,” she asked as he danced away.

“Better than sex on the beach,” he replied with a glint in his eye.

She unrolled the fork from its napkin to try a bite and laughed out loud, maybe she wasn’t as bad at this flirting thing as she thought.

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