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“Head? Oh, I definitely wanna head.” He pulled two margarita shooters out of his blue messenger bag, handing one to me.
Something interesting would come out of this night, that was a fact.
Six pm came earlywhen you stayed up nearly all night after a shift because you couldn’t fall asleep.
The past two days I had been rolling out of bed around three, eating and showering until my shift began. I sat in the small shack next to the endless line of boats and cameras. I struggled to keep my eyes open tonight. It was nearly ten-thirty, and I was eager to fall into bed and sleep. Most movement I saw was a random bird or animal. The first time a seagull waddled its way across the screen, I almost jumped out of my chair. I felt silly afterwards, laughing to myself. An emergency followed the relief. An owner’s cell phone went missing, and he accused his wife of hiding it on their yacht.
It was there, to the husband’s glory. It had been three nights, and I’d watched the couple air their dirty laundry in front of my slacken face. The man slipped me a hundred-dollar bill and asked me to pretend it had never happened.
Never happened, got it.
I stretched and yawned, leaning back in the chair, ready to be wrapped in my warm bed and comfy clothes. Just as I was about to shut my eyes for a moment, I watched a dark-haired figure slowly walk down the dock, headed toward the shack. I brought my face close to the flickering screens, squinting to recognise a face or piece of clothing. It had to be a member. You couldn’t get past security without… Oh, shit. Me, I’m the security.
All the servers and bartenders had returned their walkie talkies. I was the last one here for the night. Grabbing my keys and phone, I opened the door; her face sending waves of recognition through my body. My stomach unclenched and I sighed in relief. It was Alyssa, in all her braless glory.
“Evening miss, um. What brings you out here?” I sounded like a child.
“Evening? So formal. Call me Alyssa, I’m just the owner; I don’t work here. I have a boat all the way at the end that I like to come visit every once in a lonely-blue-moon.” She shrugged a bottle of wine out of her blue whipping cardigan, with a sheer white t-shirt beneath it. Her nipples were round, pink pebbles pushing against the fabric.
Her hair whipped wildly around her, the tide making its way in for the full moon. It was hard not to stare. My eyes darted from her nipples to the bottle of wine in her hand.
“Damn, straight from the bottle?” I pointed to it, the cherry and berry notes of red wine hitting my nose.
“Want some? I don’t mind sharing.” She grinned; her teeth slightly red from swigging the bottle.
She handed it to me, and I took it. Wouldn’t want to tell the boss no. There was barely a drop left, and I dumped the remaining contents into my mouth, “Not much to share.” I smiled, handing the empty bottle back to her. She clutched it in her arms and stared out at the moon, standing dangerously close to the edge of the dock.
“Sometimes I just come out here and stare at the moon. Or the shoreline. I think of how small I am in this world, this never-ending universe. Do you ever think of things like that? Wait, don’t answer that. Probably not- Mr. I’m only nine-teen.” I noticed her slur slightly at the end of her jab at me.
“I think those things all the time.” I crossed my arms defensively. I guess what they say is true. Alcohol is the artist’s nectar.
“Pah! You’re a little square, aren’t you?” She glared at me in a turn of mood. She went from a speck on the planet to a defensive fire-bomb.
“A square? Would a square enjoy nude photography?” I huffed, feigning disdain for her thinking that of me. Even if it was sort of true. If you were comparing me to Judas, I was most definitely a square. I wouldn’t even consider half the shit he had done. I also had the bad luck of sharing the small room attached to his by a bathroom. The number of people he made scream. Night after night brought back shouting matches between us because I needed to sleep for an exam the next day.
She stopped giggling and knelt to drop the bottle to the dock. “You like photography?”
“Yeah, it’s my major for UCLA in the fall.” I pushed my glasses up on my face, my hand twitching. All I wanted to do was brush the single tendril that had crossed her forehead in the breeze away. She laughed into her chest and bent down to retrieve the bottle, exposing her tits to me. I gulped.
“I used to take pictures.” She said as she stood.
“I, I know. I saw you, at the gallery opening last month.”
Ugh, did I just blurt that out?
She hugged the wine bottle to her chest, the hair finally flying away from her face as she stepped toward me. Her red wine-stained lips curved into a smile as she let her bottom lip slide through her teeth. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. I closed my eyes too, resisting the urge to pull her into an embrace. My body felt light, it tingled.
When I opened my eyes, her face had turned serious, and she said, “Want some advice? Read. Read everything you can get your hands on. And travel, travel as much as possible. And don’t settle. Don’t ever fucking settle.”
She stumbled towards me, I thought she was literally falling over drunk— but she grabbed my bicep and whispered into my ear, “I could show you God in just one-night, big guy.” She brushed by me, her fingers wrapped around my palm briefly, and my fingers twitched. Her hand left mine and, impulsively, reached for it again. I caught her off guard and pulled her hand toward me sharply. Her body slammed against mine, sending a shiver down my body.
The sounds of lapping water around the edges of the dock faded away. In the dim light, I saw the wetness on her cheeks. I wanted to make her feel better. I leaned down, placing my lips over hers. Soft pillows of Merlot. She gripped my biceps, moaning quietly into my mouth. She pulled back and smacked me so hard the smack made my ears ring.
She stalked off, her hips swaying and her hair still blowing wildly around her. I stood there, dumbfounded. The red wine still on my tongue and the sting on my cheek. The ocean was roaring, and when I looked at my watch, I realised my shift was over. How could over an hour with one person feel like ten minutes?
I wanted her to slap me again while I was down on my knees in front of her, worshipping her.
I wokeup the next morning with a head that pounded so hard; I vomited.
