So I had a narcoleptic Tuesday
At least in the evening when I kept dozing off, even though I wasn't really tired. Gotta be the heat. On the one hand I was able to remain conscious long enough to sketch out a scene with the HiSoc boys, an excerpt for the original story (and after typing it up this morning I have to say it feels really good to have them back; despite the fun of doing those 'sequels' and all, I had been a bit concerned about having lost my feel for the boys in the original story, where they're still making their way along that path toward each other). But on the other hand, I really wanted to catch that new A&E series, MI-5 last night, but completely zoned out and missed it.
If anyone else caught it, let me know if it was any good? The promos make it sound a bit like an old favorite of mine, The Professionals, so I was curious to check it out.
Otherwise ... Still hot, still yucky, want summer over -- *now*.
================
HiSoc, original story excerpt here. Background you need to know: They are now out on Long Island and although there are dark clouds forming on the horizon, all is well for the moment. Alas, Chris innocently adds some volume to those clouds by something he does here, with the best intentions in the world -- but even that will, eventually, come out all right. Promise.
Rated PG-13, althought there is some suggestive action with an ice cream cone...
"Hi, Society: Life's a Beech"
~probably Sunday afternoon~
Jill Baker climbed off her bike and leaned it against one of the
benches spaced along the boardwalk. She adjusted her camera as she
walked along, ready for something to catch her eye. There were all
of the standard, sure bet pictures everywhere she looked, just the
thing to peddle to the tourists. Jill was in the mood for something
different, though, something just for her. Over there, dad and three
tow-headed kiddies at the ice cream stand, would make an adorable
picture, no question, but it wasn't quite what she wanted. Although -
Jill paused and let her gaze linger with consideration on the
father - she might change her mind about that if nothing more
striking caught her eye.
She walked on, the late afternoon heat easy to bear with the breeze
coming off the water. A flutter of white down by the shore caught
her attention and she stepped off the boardwalk for a better look.
Thirty seconds later she was bringing up her camera, feeling the
excitement of inspiration as she looked through the viewfinder and
knew this was the picture she wanted.
He was down by the water, the surf flowing over bare feet. White
linen trousers were rolled just above his ankles and the white
fluttering was his shirt, untucked and unbuttoned with the sleeves
rolled up, the breeze almost pushing it back off his shoulders and
revealing even more smooth, tanned skin. He stood there, relaxed and
comfortable, hands in his pockets, oblivious that he was being
observed and coveted.
Or … maybe not.
Jill paused, feeling a flush of embarrassment as the handsome,
aquiline head turned towards her. She lowered the camera, caught out
and ready to offer an introduction and explanation, when he flashed a
bright smile over at her and winked. Well. Apparently his middle
name was *not* `shy,' and she couldn't help smiling back, amused at
his confidence in his photogenic worth - and not a little excited by
it as well.
***
Chris grinned, watching the photographer look a bit flustered for a
moment before she brought the camera back up and started clicking
away again. He didn't mind. If someone wanted a picture of him for
a souvenir, where was the harm?
He looked back out across the ocean, loving the feel of the water
breaking over his feet and swirling around his ankles, the breeze
against his skin. If this excursion wasn't precisely a vacation, it
certainly felt like one, and he couldn't deny this beat being cooped
up in the office. The primary reason for that had little to do with
the weather or the scenery, however. No, *that* was pretty much
embodied in the figure walking along the beach towards him now -
blessedly with no miniature Beechers clinging to him.
Everything else forgotten, Chris waited for him, laughing at the huff
he couldn't quite hear as the surf splashed over Toby's shoes. A few
seconds later, Toby was beside him and frowning down at his wet shoes
and socks. "Hold this," he thrust a strawberry ice cream cone at
Chris before sitting down on a rock to remove his shoes and socks and
roll up his pants. "You couldn't have just waited on the boardwalk,
I suppose."
"I was hot," Chris said, intently examining the cone and giving it a
lick.
"Thought you didn't want one."
"It was dripping," Chris said, and gave it another lap, knowing he
had Toby's undivided attention. He took another lick, tongue
flicking along the rim and cleaning up another drip before handing in
back.
"Bastard," Toby muttered, eyes sparkling as he put on his own show,
the tip of his tongue darting over the scoop of ice cream. "Want
some more?" he said, tilting it towards him.
Chris smiled and bent his head, giving the ice cream a long, slow
lick before opening his mouth wide as if to swallow it whole.
"Hey!" Toby snatched it back.
"What?" Chris gave him an innocent look. "All I'm doing is eating
your cone."
Eyes full of laughter, Toby said, "Yes, well, eat it s-l-o-w-l-y,
okay?"
"Yeah?" Chris moved closer, lowering his head for another swipe of
his tongue across the cold, creamy scoop. "You like it sloooow?" he
said, drawing it out.
Toby sniffed, watching him. "I might like it fast, sometimes."
"Yeah?" Chris flicked his tongue rapidly over the cone a couple of
times.
"Are you *trying* to drive me insane?"
"Nope."
"Uh-huh. How do you like it?" he said. "Slow," he ran his tongue
over the scoop in a long, sensuous lick, "or fast?" he finished,
tongue flicking rapidly along the dripping rim.
"Both," Chris murmured, avid gaze riveted as Toby licked at his own
fingers where some ice cream had spilled.
Toby smiled, just as aware of having Chris' full attention and
looking like he enjoyed that sense of power. Chris loved seeing
that; it was something he hoped would only increase the longer they
were together.
"You want the cone?" Toby said.
"Nah, you can have it."
Toby crunched away at it, eyeing him all the while. "You could catch
a chill with your shirt open like that," he said at last, cone
disposed of.
"It's ninety degrees in the shade."
"Even so." Toby came closer, reaching for his shirt and fastening
one button, then another. "I understand you are a shameless peacock--
"
Chris flashed a shameless grin at him, shivering as Toby's fingers
brushed his skin.
"-but I would prefer to be the only one allowed to ogle you."
Chris rested his hands on Toby's shoulders, his smile warmer and
intimate now, really liking the sound of that. "I think that can be
arranged."
"Glad to hear it." Toby gave him a regretful look then. "Dad and
Mary Pete and the kids are going to be along any second here."
Chris nodded, understanding. "If they weren't," he moved closer,
head bent to whisper in his ear, "if we had this stretch of beach all
to ourselves, would you want to get naked with me?"
Toby laughed, looking at him. "Oh, you bet your beautiful ass I
would."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Do."
Chris sighed happily, content to just look at him, wondering if there
was anything to that reincarnation stuff he'd heard about because,
*damn*, he must have done something really good in a past life to
have found Toby. "Have I told you I loved you lately?"
"Mmmm," Toby glanced at his watch, "not since just after lunch."
"That long, huh?"
"A goddamn eternity," Toby said, smiling, watching him, looking like
he enjoyed the view just as much. "I love you, too."
And that still knocked him for a loop, every time he heard it. He
nodded, wanting to acknowledge it much more thoroughly. He glanced
around, wondering if they might have time enough for a quick kiss at
least, and then frowned as he spotted the photographer still over
there, clicking away. Fuck. He'd forgotten about her; he tended to
forget the time of day whenever Toby came into view. He had a funny
little feeling, too, that Toby might not be too thrilled that someone
was preserving their antics for posterity.
On the other hand… Once he saw the prints, and if Chris could make
sure he owned them all, it might make for a unique reminder of this
first summer. With that in mind, and seeing the photographer moving
away now, he said, "Wait here a minute, I'll be right back," and left
Toby to hurry along and catch up with the photographer just as she
was getting on her bike.
"Hey!" He walked up to her, feeling the heat of the boardwalk on the
soles of his feet, and pulled up his best smile for her, confident he
could persuade her to part with the photos or his name wasn't Chris
Keller.
***
Curious, Toby slipped his bare feet into his shoes and followed along
after Chris just a bit, hanging back well out of earshot, and
wondering what the hell was going on now. Who was that woman, and
why was Chris chatting her up? Of course he knew it was just Chris'
way but that didn't mean he had to like it. One of these days they
were going to have to sit down and have a good, long talk about
that. No flaunting that fabulous body for the whole wide world to
see, no flirting with pretty girls on bicycles … no exchanging slips
of papers with her.
Hmph.
"So - what was that about?" he said as Chris cautiously tiptoed back
to him, letting out a satisfied groan as his feet sank into the cool,
wet sand again.
"What was about?"
"That girl. Why were you talking to her?"
"I noticed her bike, I was asking where she got it. She told me
there's a place along there," he pointed back to the boardwalk, "that
rents them."
"Oh." Toby tried not to huff, not entirely content with this
explanation. "If you want to go for a bike ride, we have bicycles
back at the house."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Chris nodded, "Okay," and although Toby would have liked to pursue
this a bit further, sensing something ever so slightly fishy, the
sight of the kids barreling down the beach towards them, his dad and
Mary Pete lagging behind, signaled that the conversation would have
to be resumed at another time.
Holly stayed well away from the surf, not about to risk getting her
brand new shoes wet, and aimed a curious look at Chris standing
there. "How come you're doing that?"
Chris looked back at her. "'Cause I like how the sand feels squishy
between my toes."
She sniffed, clearly regarding this as a dubious inclination. "I
don't like the water."
"That's because you're afraid of all the fishes," Gary said, not
minding if the salt water edged up to his shoes; Harry was casting
all caution to the wind by planting himself knee-deep in the surf
until Chris scooped him up as a particularly strong wave came in.
"I'm not afraid of the fishes," Holly asserted.
"Are too."
"Am not," she insisted, fists planted on her hips.
"Are too."
"Am *not*."
Chris looked to Harry for his take. "How do you feel about the
fishes?"
Head tilted thoughtfully, Harry pondered the matter as Toby tried to
break up Holly and Gary, finally stating, "I like to eat them."
Chris nodded. "Yep. Nothing to be afraid of if it's fried up and on
your plate."
Verbal quota reached for the day, Harry replied with a firm nod of
agreement.
~~*~~
If anyone else caught it, let me know if it was any good? The promos make it sound a bit like an old favorite of mine, The Professionals, so I was curious to check it out.
Otherwise ... Still hot, still yucky, want summer over -- *now*.
================
HiSoc, original story excerpt here. Background you need to know: They are now out on Long Island and although there are dark clouds forming on the horizon, all is well for the moment. Alas, Chris innocently adds some volume to those clouds by something he does here, with the best intentions in the world -- but even that will, eventually, come out all right. Promise.
Rated PG-13, althought there is some suggestive action with an ice cream cone...
"Hi, Society: Life's a Beech"
~probably Sunday afternoon~
Jill Baker climbed off her bike and leaned it against one of the
benches spaced along the boardwalk. She adjusted her camera as she
walked along, ready for something to catch her eye. There were all
of the standard, sure bet pictures everywhere she looked, just the
thing to peddle to the tourists. Jill was in the mood for something
different, though, something just for her. Over there, dad and three
tow-headed kiddies at the ice cream stand, would make an adorable
picture, no question, but it wasn't quite what she wanted. Although -
Jill paused and let her gaze linger with consideration on the
father - she might change her mind about that if nothing more
striking caught her eye.
She walked on, the late afternoon heat easy to bear with the breeze
coming off the water. A flutter of white down by the shore caught
her attention and she stepped off the boardwalk for a better look.
Thirty seconds later she was bringing up her camera, feeling the
excitement of inspiration as she looked through the viewfinder and
knew this was the picture she wanted.
He was down by the water, the surf flowing over bare feet. White
linen trousers were rolled just above his ankles and the white
fluttering was his shirt, untucked and unbuttoned with the sleeves
rolled up, the breeze almost pushing it back off his shoulders and
revealing even more smooth, tanned skin. He stood there, relaxed and
comfortable, hands in his pockets, oblivious that he was being
observed and coveted.
Or … maybe not.
Jill paused, feeling a flush of embarrassment as the handsome,
aquiline head turned towards her. She lowered the camera, caught out
and ready to offer an introduction and explanation, when he flashed a
bright smile over at her and winked. Well. Apparently his middle
name was *not* `shy,' and she couldn't help smiling back, amused at
his confidence in his photogenic worth - and not a little excited by
it as well.
***
Chris grinned, watching the photographer look a bit flustered for a
moment before she brought the camera back up and started clicking
away again. He didn't mind. If someone wanted a picture of him for
a souvenir, where was the harm?
He looked back out across the ocean, loving the feel of the water
breaking over his feet and swirling around his ankles, the breeze
against his skin. If this excursion wasn't precisely a vacation, it
certainly felt like one, and he couldn't deny this beat being cooped
up in the office. The primary reason for that had little to do with
the weather or the scenery, however. No, *that* was pretty much
embodied in the figure walking along the beach towards him now -
blessedly with no miniature Beechers clinging to him.
Everything else forgotten, Chris waited for him, laughing at the huff
he couldn't quite hear as the surf splashed over Toby's shoes. A few
seconds later, Toby was beside him and frowning down at his wet shoes
and socks. "Hold this," he thrust a strawberry ice cream cone at
Chris before sitting down on a rock to remove his shoes and socks and
roll up his pants. "You couldn't have just waited on the boardwalk,
I suppose."
"I was hot," Chris said, intently examining the cone and giving it a
lick.
"Thought you didn't want one."
"It was dripping," Chris said, and gave it another lap, knowing he
had Toby's undivided attention. He took another lick, tongue
flicking along the rim and cleaning up another drip before handing in
back.
"Bastard," Toby muttered, eyes sparkling as he put on his own show,
the tip of his tongue darting over the scoop of ice cream. "Want
some more?" he said, tilting it towards him.
Chris smiled and bent his head, giving the ice cream a long, slow
lick before opening his mouth wide as if to swallow it whole.
"Hey!" Toby snatched it back.
"What?" Chris gave him an innocent look. "All I'm doing is eating
your cone."
Eyes full of laughter, Toby said, "Yes, well, eat it s-l-o-w-l-y,
okay?"
"Yeah?" Chris moved closer, lowering his head for another swipe of
his tongue across the cold, creamy scoop. "You like it sloooow?" he
said, drawing it out.
Toby sniffed, watching him. "I might like it fast, sometimes."
"Yeah?" Chris flicked his tongue rapidly over the cone a couple of
times.
"Are you *trying* to drive me insane?"
"Nope."
"Uh-huh. How do you like it?" he said. "Slow," he ran his tongue
over the scoop in a long, sensuous lick, "or fast?" he finished,
tongue flicking rapidly along the dripping rim.
"Both," Chris murmured, avid gaze riveted as Toby licked at his own
fingers where some ice cream had spilled.
Toby smiled, just as aware of having Chris' full attention and
looking like he enjoyed that sense of power. Chris loved seeing
that; it was something he hoped would only increase the longer they
were together.
"You want the cone?" Toby said.
"Nah, you can have it."
Toby crunched away at it, eyeing him all the while. "You could catch
a chill with your shirt open like that," he said at last, cone
disposed of.
"It's ninety degrees in the shade."
"Even so." Toby came closer, reaching for his shirt and fastening
one button, then another. "I understand you are a shameless peacock--
"
Chris flashed a shameless grin at him, shivering as Toby's fingers
brushed his skin.
"-but I would prefer to be the only one allowed to ogle you."
Chris rested his hands on Toby's shoulders, his smile warmer and
intimate now, really liking the sound of that. "I think that can be
arranged."
"Glad to hear it." Toby gave him a regretful look then. "Dad and
Mary Pete and the kids are going to be along any second here."
Chris nodded, understanding. "If they weren't," he moved closer,
head bent to whisper in his ear, "if we had this stretch of beach all
to ourselves, would you want to get naked with me?"
Toby laughed, looking at him. "Oh, you bet your beautiful ass I
would."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Do."
Chris sighed happily, content to just look at him, wondering if there
was anything to that reincarnation stuff he'd heard about because,
*damn*, he must have done something really good in a past life to
have found Toby. "Have I told you I loved you lately?"
"Mmmm," Toby glanced at his watch, "not since just after lunch."
"That long, huh?"
"A goddamn eternity," Toby said, smiling, watching him, looking like
he enjoyed the view just as much. "I love you, too."
And that still knocked him for a loop, every time he heard it. He
nodded, wanting to acknowledge it much more thoroughly. He glanced
around, wondering if they might have time enough for a quick kiss at
least, and then frowned as he spotted the photographer still over
there, clicking away. Fuck. He'd forgotten about her; he tended to
forget the time of day whenever Toby came into view. He had a funny
little feeling, too, that Toby might not be too thrilled that someone
was preserving their antics for posterity.
On the other hand… Once he saw the prints, and if Chris could make
sure he owned them all, it might make for a unique reminder of this
first summer. With that in mind, and seeing the photographer moving
away now, he said, "Wait here a minute, I'll be right back," and left
Toby to hurry along and catch up with the photographer just as she
was getting on her bike.
"Hey!" He walked up to her, feeling the heat of the boardwalk on the
soles of his feet, and pulled up his best smile for her, confident he
could persuade her to part with the photos or his name wasn't Chris
Keller.
***
Curious, Toby slipped his bare feet into his shoes and followed along
after Chris just a bit, hanging back well out of earshot, and
wondering what the hell was going on now. Who was that woman, and
why was Chris chatting her up? Of course he knew it was just Chris'
way but that didn't mean he had to like it. One of these days they
were going to have to sit down and have a good, long talk about
that. No flaunting that fabulous body for the whole wide world to
see, no flirting with pretty girls on bicycles … no exchanging slips
of papers with her.
Hmph.
"So - what was that about?" he said as Chris cautiously tiptoed back
to him, letting out a satisfied groan as his feet sank into the cool,
wet sand again.
"What was about?"
"That girl. Why were you talking to her?"
"I noticed her bike, I was asking where she got it. She told me
there's a place along there," he pointed back to the boardwalk, "that
rents them."
"Oh." Toby tried not to huff, not entirely content with this
explanation. "If you want to go for a bike ride, we have bicycles
back at the house."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Chris nodded, "Okay," and although Toby would have liked to pursue
this a bit further, sensing something ever so slightly fishy, the
sight of the kids barreling down the beach towards them, his dad and
Mary Pete lagging behind, signaled that the conversation would have
to be resumed at another time.
Holly stayed well away from the surf, not about to risk getting her
brand new shoes wet, and aimed a curious look at Chris standing
there. "How come you're doing that?"
Chris looked back at her. "'Cause I like how the sand feels squishy
between my toes."
She sniffed, clearly regarding this as a dubious inclination. "I
don't like the water."
"That's because you're afraid of all the fishes," Gary said, not
minding if the salt water edged up to his shoes; Harry was casting
all caution to the wind by planting himself knee-deep in the surf
until Chris scooped him up as a particularly strong wave came in.
"I'm not afraid of the fishes," Holly asserted.
"Are too."
"Am not," she insisted, fists planted on her hips.
"Are too."
"Am *not*."
Chris looked to Harry for his take. "How do you feel about the
fishes?"
Head tilted thoughtfully, Harry pondered the matter as Toby tried to
break up Holly and Gary, finally stating, "I like to eat them."
Chris nodded. "Yep. Nothing to be afraid of if it's fried up and on
your plate."
Verbal quota reached for the day, Harry replied with a firm nod of
agreement.
~~*~~