The summer heat was messing with her brain, or was it the stress of being alone all he time?
The forecaster said today was going to be beautiful, sunny and hot, perfect for the beach. She remembered discovering that secluded section just past mile marker 83 last year, and decided sun, sand, and nothing but the sound of crashing ocean waves was just what the doctor ordered.
Buffy loaded the Jeep once more for a day trip. Blanket, umbrella, cooler filled of cold drinks and snacks, sunscreen, book… Looks like I have everything! Once more, she set the GPS on the dash and headed out.
Arriving at the beach, she was more than pleased to see it was still as empty as she had remembered. She parked on the sand, but didn’t drive too far in, she wasn’t sure if the Jeep would be able to get out if the sand was too deep.
Dragging the cooler down to the spot where she’d set up her own private oasis had been a difficult task, but one she gladly did alone. She had a feeling that today would turn out to be worth the drive.
She shimmied out of her cover up, and checked her bikini ties, making sure they were tight and headed toward the water. The sand was hot under her feet, causing her to rush to cool her feet in the cold water.
The waves were crashing low, but with no lifeguard anywhere in sight, she decided to just walk along the edge. Cool foam ebbed and flowed over her pink painted toes, creating a sense of calm that little can match.
Little seashells, a small horseshoe crab, and pieces of rock that had been polished by the tide littered the smooth, wet sand. There were no ships on the horizon, or planes with long banners behind them, and no tourists on a boardwalk. She was alone with nature. A satisfied smile crept across her face as she headed back to her blanket in the shade. Perhaps a nap, maybe a few chapters, she was free to relax with out any interruptions.
The sun was high in the sky, beating down on her. The umbrella was shielding her from its direct rays, but the lack of breeze was excruciating. Still scared to enter the water without a lifeguard, she’d started rubbing the ice cubes from the cooler all over her body. Wish I’d thought to bring the spray bottle, damn it. I may have to cut the day short if I can’t cool off soon.
Spike couldn’t believe his friend had roped him into this. He was actually driving an ice cream truck along the beach, passing out novelties to snot nosed kids with sticky coins. At least the truck was cool.
If he hadn’t owed Dave a major favor, he would never have ended up dressed like a moron in lime green cargo shorts and a t-shirt with an ice cream cone telling you, “Eat Me”. And riding around in a truck that screamed, “little kids…. I have treats, come see me” just seemed over the top wrong. There was something seriously perverse about that, and the paint job on the truck just made it more vivid.
Dave’s truck had originally been your standard, run o’ the mill Good Humor truck. But Dave had a sick sense of humor. He had commissioned a custom paint job that rivaled the tackiest of van murals. The picture airbrushed on the side was a lovely blond bombshell in a bikini, the plump, shiny red lips of her mouth were open wide waiting, for Dave (in the same moronic uniform he was wearing) straddling a red, white, and blue Mega Missile popsicle poised to fly directly into her mouth. And if that wasn’t wrong enough for a truck that had kiddies swarming it as it drove by, the speech balloon over Dave’s head also said, “Eat Me”.
He was sick of the kids, the whining and crying about not having any money, or enough money, tugging on someone to buy them something, anything. He had just kept driving down the main drag, looking for an alley or somewhere to just park for a bit and escape the insanity. At least Dave had installed a kick-ass stereo system.
He had driven for quite a way outside of the hustle and bustle of the tourist area, and found himself a nice place to park. Maybe I will even get some sun?
Spike yanked up on the emergency brake, turned on the stereo loud, and propped his feet up on the dash. The song that came on was “Ice Cream Man” by Van Halen. Laughing his ass off, he leaned back and began to sing along. He was unaware that the song was blasting over the PA system as well.
No sooner had she decided that she would pack it in, she heard music blaring. Looking behind her revealed an ice cream truck and the song now registered in her head as what she was hearing. I’m your ice cream man, guaranteed to satisfy… “Ice cream, and right on time. God, I hope it isn’t a mirage.”
Standing up, she almost lost her footing in the hot sand. I must be dehydrating, should have drank that last water instead of pouring it on myself.
Buffy made it to her car and reached in the hot car to grab her wallet. Trudging through the sand, she made her way toward the truck.
The truck was a sight to behold, causing her to laugh out loud. The guy with this truck must have a sense of humor, with the mural and the music.
The ice cream man was sitting behind the wheel, his hat visor tipped down over his eyes, feet tapping on the dash, singing along to the Van Halen tune loudly.
As Buffy reached the truck, she got a full view of the mural and the luscious sight of its driver. Jeez, he looks sooo familiar!
The man in the truck hadn’t noticed her yet, so she took the opportunity to look at the goods, so to speak. His skin was pale, with a hint of tan, short, curly dirty blond hair peeked out from under the side of this silly hat, which matched his equally stupid outfit. His face had the cheekbones of a god, and those lips... perfect for nibbling… God! What's wrong with me? Buffy thought as she ogled him.
Clearing her throat to get his attention didn’t work. The music was too loud. He seemed to be lost in his own little world. “Excuse me,“ she tried a little louder. Still nothing. The side doors to the large truck had been slid back so that he could catch the cross breeze, so she entered the truck. She didn’t want to startle him, but really wanted to get some ice cream now.
“Excuse me!” Buffy touched his flip flopped foot and he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Hey! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Spike’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, partially because she had genuinely scared him, but also because there was a smokin’ hot, scantily clad, blond standing within inches of him. Her golden skin smelled of the coconut oil that covered every bare inch of her goddess-like body.
“You are the ice cream man, are you not?”
A sly grin spread across his face as he cocked his head to the side. Curling his tongue behind his teeth, he replied, “Guaranteed to satisfy.” He winked at her as she blushed at his response.
Buffy could feel her face flush, not from the heat of the sun, but the heat from her own body. The look he was giving her made her feel like she may just melt. “I-I was wondering if I could get something from you to cool me off. It’s pretty hot out there, and no lifeguard on duty this far down the beach.”
Spike had hoped he was finished peddling frozen novelties to the masses for the day, but this was no whiny kid. She was all woman, and all alone. It crossed his mind, he better not blow it by sounding like a pervert, or he may scare her off. “Well. I was actually done for the day, drove down here for a peaceful bit o’ beach myself, but it seems I have forgotten to bring my towel. Tell you what, if you’ve got an extra towel, and don’t mind sharing the beach with me, I will provide the cool treats and my lifeguard services. Interested?”
OMIGOD, omigod, OMIGOD! Alone on a secluded beach with this hunka hunka man! Duh, this is a no brainer. Now, Buffy, close your drooling jaw and answer the man. “Sure! I’ve got extra towels and a cooler down by the water. Now, if we are gonna spend the afternoon together, let me introduce myself. I’m Buffy, Buffy Summers.”
Spike looked at her outstretched hand. Should I introduce myself as Spike? People always question my nickname, and I don't really want to get into the stupid reason I have it. But Buffy? What the hell is that? Did her parents actually give her that at birth? Poor girl, maybe easier to just give her his name. As he went to shake that dainty hand she was offering, his brain tripped and this is what he said. “Hi, I’m Dave. Dave Smith.” Shaking her hand, he didn’t know why he had given her his buddy’s name, but it was too late now. He was going to have to roll on with it. “Nice to meet you, Buffy. Now, let me run down and get your cooler and fill it with stuff for our afternoon.”
Buffy stepped out of the truck, and they walked to her little spot of beach she’d claimed. He lifted the cooler and hoisted it up onto his shoulder with ease. Wow, strong too. I sure hope he takes that shirt off soon. Again! I can’t believe I am such a perv. Never mind, yeah I can. He is a fine specimen of man.
"Ok, Dave, I will get you a towel out of the Jeep. Hurry back!” she called out to him as he walked back to his truck. Normally, cargo shorts did nothing for her, but the way they were hugging his obviously firm cheeks o’ass that swished as he walked through the sand, she felt herself bite her lip. Now, should I lay down and pose myself seductively, should I walk down by the water and hope he joins me, or should I just untie the suit and wait here naked. Giggling at her own thoughts, Buffy elected to walk down to the shore and hope he joined her soon.
Spike rushed back to the truck with her cooler and quickly filled it with several different things from the freezer. He had forgotten to ask her what she liked, so he figured he’d just grab an assortment. After it was full of snacks and drinks, he locked up the truck and began the trek back to her blanket. The closer he got, the more concerned he became at not being able to spot her. He saw her Jeep parked in the sand, not far from where she had set up, but didn’t see her anywhere. Setting the cooler in the shade of the umbrella he rushed toward the water still searching, and beginning to panic that she might have gone into the water alone. “Buffy! Buuffeeeee!”
“I’m over here, Dave!” Buffy saw him rush up to her.
“Woman, that’s twice already you’ve scared me and we’ve just met!” Spike was out of breath from his panicked run to the waters edge. “I need to keep a better eye on you, can’t lose you before I actually catch you,” he said calmly as he gently took her hand and placed a chaste kiss on it. "Now, do you fancy a frolic in the waves or something cold to eat first?” He realized that he hadn’t let go of her hand, but she wasn’t pulling away from him either.
Laughing at how giddy she was feeling with him holding her hand and using words like ‘fancy’, she coyly answered, “Frolic, please, then ice cream.” She swung their joined hands between them as they started to walk down the beach.
“Wait!” Spike said as he let go of her hand.
Buffy pouted as her hand swung alone.
Spike saw that lip puff out. She’s gonna have you wrapped around her little finger by the end of the day with that look! “I just feel a little over dressed.” He quickly pulled that ridiculous shirt over his head, exposing his well-fit torso.
Holy shit! Could he be any hotter? Buffy’s mind traveled to what those snug lime green shorts might be hiding. Stop it, you naughty, naughty girl.
Spike noticed her looking at him hungrily and smiled because of it. He knew he looked good, but the hungry look in her eyes told him he looked even better than he thought. He tossed his shirt up the beach toward their blanket. He ran his hand over his rippled abs stopping as his hand reached the waistband of his shorts. He watched her eyes as they followed his hand like a cat ready to pounce. Pounce, baby, pounce. Spike reached for her hand once more, “Now, where were we?”