Intro: The exploits of a man whose given name fit him perfectly, Randy, and he certainly was that. He was a high-school history teacher and coach until he hit the lottery and retired early at 52. While he was not averse to returning flirtatious quips from the girls in his classes, he did avoid giving in to the urge, telling the more enticing of them to, "come see me after you graduate." Some did, but these stories deal with his life after hitting it big and building two houses; one along a river bluff 45 miles inland from the Atlantic Ocean and another on a secluded portion of the Northern Outer Banks, both equipped with playrooms. And he still had over a hundred million to spare. All characters are 18+ years of age. All stories can stand alone, but reading the series gives added insights and descriptions as it unfolds.
Synopsis: High-class call girl finds she will fuck fossils for free.
September, 2016 - OBX house
After Halley had left to go to college out of state (previous story), Randy decided to spend the final weeks of August at the house he had built on the northern Outer Banks through the long weekend of Labor Day. It was a good place to think and he could spend the days with only the interruptions he allowed.
He knew he was going to miss her and thought that with her being off to college the unique relationship between them would probably fade away. If that were the way it turned out, he could deal with it, but it would not mean that he wouldn't miss their time together, and the fucking. It also meant that he had to process the change in his life and that was what the time on the OBX was about.
As he progressed along on the three-hour ride the houses became sparser on the mainland, especially the last 35-mile stretch of two-lane road with the deep canal running alongside it that was home to the occasional alligator. He smiled as he thought of one of his occasional ways to spend a day, watching from his house as families looked for sand dollars, seashells, and shark's teeth on the isolated beach. The endless search for fossils.
He crossed the bridge from Roanoke Island to the barrier islands and turned left for the last 45 minutes of his drive and called ahead to a favorite pizza joint to order a meatball sub for take-out.
His SUV parked in the gravel lot, he entered the establishment in his usual island dress; cargo shorts and a t-shirt with a sweat-stained baseball cap. When he was here, he usually dressed like a local except for the rare special occasion. Most of the time when he was out on the island he appeared as a common laborer or fisherman, unless of course one checked his hands. Still, there were very few of the locals who associated him with money, except maybe the waitresses he tipped generously.
Greeting the septuagenarian behind the bar, he sat down and ordered a soft drink in a to-go cup and asked for his order. Sam, the bartender, brought him his drink and asked, "Back for a spell?"
"Yeah, probably about a month. Anything new afoot?"
"Just her," and Sam's eyes pointed to someone seated at one of the tables to Randy's left while his head remained still. Turning to see what the wise old man meant, Randy took in an extremely fit young woman with hair that was just browner than auburn and wearing a tight white mini-dress. She rose from her chair to leave and her lithe body moved every inch of the white fabric of the dress as she walked toward the door. Turning back to Sam he shared his initial observations, "She knows how to move Sam, but there isn't any softness in that body, it's rock hard," and he noticed that Sam was not listening, still intent on watching her as she sashayed out the door.
Leaning to his left to put himself into the old man's vision, he inquired, "Who's the lady Sam?"
"Ahh, she blew in her from New York first o'da week. Been in here couple of times already. Says she's here on vacation." Sam had lingered on the first word of that last sentence as he wiped down the bar and Randy caught the skepticism.
"Well, she certainly fills that dress out nicely."
"Too expensive."
"The dress?"
"No. Her," and Sam nodded his head toward the door she had exited.
"Aren't they all?"
"Different kind of expensive," Sam replied, and Randy read his mind.
"How do you know that Sam?"
The full head of snow-white hair looked down as he continued to wipe the bar, slightly embarrassed. "Well," and he paused and then he lip-pointed to his right, "she sat right there at the end of the bar the second time she come in here. Heard her on the phone a'tellin' somebody she wouldn't be takin' no appointments 'til after Labor Day; that if any clients needed her," and the bartender looked back to Randy, "that they needed to find another whore, that she didn't think she'd have a problem getting them back when she returned."
"Well then, I guess it's a good thing I usually don't pick up strangers, you never know do you? But then, I guess we all get by as best we can," Randy smiled as he paid and picked up his food. "Thanks Sam. Don't be too hard on her, she's a good lookin' gal; she might just fuck ya." and he walked away as a grinning Sam picked up the twenty-dollar bill from the bar.
Randy drove into the garage of the home he had built on one of the few isolated stretches of the NOBX. The house was essentially a square with round sections built into the southeast and northwest corners. The east side faced the Atlantic Ocean and the circular section there was the living room. It's twin on the opposite corner held two guestrooms and a shared bath.
Attached to the other two corners of the square were smaller rectangles; a playroom on the northeast side and the two-car garage on the southwest side. The other stall of the garage held a 25-year-old pickup truck that he often drove around the island. The playroom here was about a third of the size of the one at his River house and could only be accessed from his bedroom. A deck wrapped around the southern and eastern sides of the house with a pool, hot tub and gazebo facing the ocean.
He checked the house and then ate his supper at the kitchen bar before bringing his stuff in from the garage. Afterward he sat at the small round table under the gazebo outside and the brunette came briefly to his mind. She had worn one of those black lace chokers. Sometimes a female did that as a fashion statement. Sometimes one would do it to denote that they were submissive. He chuckled as he thought to himself, 'Too bad that I'll never find out." His mind then turned to Halley and he smoked and watched the moon as it rose until it rotated out of sight well after midnight.
*
Randy was planning on the solitude of last night to continue for the next few weeks. He was in no mood to cook every meal however and ventured out to a variety of restaurants where he was known by sight. Sometimes he dined in, sometimes he got take-out. Despite the solitude, deep down he knew that he needed something to break the morose attitude he was experiencing.
Over the course of the next week and a half he noticed the well-toned woman in the white mini several more times at various establishments during lunch or dinner and she was always dressed provocatively. One night they were seated three tables away from each other at a popular upscale restaurant in Kill Devil Hills; one of the few places for which he would dress up. She was in a red, ankle-length, sequined gown that was split to her hip and revealing a shapely thigh as she ate broiled shrimp and scallops.
The last time he had encountered her, she was wearing a purple micro-bikini and a see-thru, white cover-up on the Wednesday prior to the Labor Day holiday in the grocery store and causing much consternation for the teenaged bag-boys there. Each time she had been wearing the black lace choker, as she was now in the check-out line.
Her overt sensuality did not go unnoticed, despite his neutral attitude about her. She was a trim and tight 5'4" and just over 100 pounds with a proportioned body that was in his estimation about a 32B-24-34.
