Lucy caught her breath as the shop's bell rang with her entrance, a drop of sweat trailing down her neck. It was a hot day. The hottest of the year, apparently, and of course her high school friends insisted that it was the perfect day to hit the over-crowded beach. She suddenly regretted wearing cut-off short shorts with her string bikini, wishing she'd just gone with the two-piece instead.
The beachfront shop she'd sauntered into was cool; it was air-conditioned, thank God.
She looked around her, taking in the sight of wandering shimmers of the blazing noon sun catching among the countless trinkets clothing the rickety shack walls. That same sun caught in the wispy hazel of Lucy's brunette hair, a bundle of it tied up in a ponytail that hung off the side of her head. Her cheeks, speckled with an abundance of freckles, were pink from the heat outside.
She relaxed now, feeling the beads of sweat trickling down her smooth exposed skin cool against the artificial breeze, golden hoop earrings pushed into a gentle sway.
After a moment, however, her thirst reared its head, and her eyes darted around the shop, desperate.
Lucy was parched. She'd packed water into the cooler she and her friends brought, but that was all gone at this point. Her mind flashed with annoyance at the memory of her boyfriend chugging down the last bottle right in front of her. And so she separated from the group to find someplace selling ice-cold libation.
It was a much harder task than she'd thought it'd be.
She shouldn't have been surprised, turned away by shop owner after shop owner. It was the hottest day after all. Her only other option was to get in the staggeringly-long lines for food stalls or the hours-long wait for a restaurant. She'd figured by the time she actually got her hands on a bottle of water from either of these places, she'd be long dead of heatstroke.
That's how Lucy found herself here. It was a curio shop, only a hundred yards or so away from the end of the line of shops along the boardwalk. From the outside, it looked like it was barely holding itself together, two stories of almost-rotted planks of wood, paint chipped from decades of sunworn and storm-battered abuse. It wasn't much better from the inside, with antiquated tables scattered with dusty unwanted junk occupying the main storefront before the shop stretched into another section with a maze of bookshelves and racks of various other curios, curtains of beads and hanging fabrics making a maze of her own. A steel staircase spiraled into the second floor above, and Lucy could almost smell the dusty scent of age wafting from the opening.
Lucy wandered in further, gulping as she almost blindly shoved aside beads and various other tapestries as if she were hacking through dense thicket in a jungle There was a low chance that this old shack would have anything other than trinkets and curiosities, but-
"Looks like the heat is killing you," a voice said.
Too disoriented by the dehydration and the sensory overload of the shop, Lucy found herself in front of shop's front counter, finding that the voice belonged to who she assumed was the shopkeep. To her surprise, it wasn't some old geezer, but a man, probably a decade older than her, but still, relatively young. She didn't have time to appraise him further as she looked at him in a daze, and nodded.
He reached under the counter, and Lucy could hear the rattle of glass, the airtight closing of a fridge. Then, like a miracle, he produced an ice-cold bottle of water.
He didn't even have time to get a word in before Lucy nearly lunged for the offered beverage, snapping the cap against the counter in an almost violent slam. She chugged it down with desperate gulps, uncaring of the lack of decorum, unnoticing of the shopkeeper's amused gaze, fixated on the skin of her neck. When she came up for air, he had another bottle already open for her. She gave him grateful eyes as she finished that one off too.
Three bottles of water later, and Lucy let out a satisfied sigh.
"Thanks so much," she said, smiling contentedly as she handed him some cash. She took another breath, feeling alive and present again as the fans of the shop brisked against her skin. "Literally thought I was going to die out there."
The shopkeeper chuckled. He pulled out two more bottles from the fridge, their contents bubbly and orange. He cracked them open, and slid one over to her.
"Wouldn't want that to happen. It's why I always keep drinks nice and cold," he took a swig of the soda, and Lucy found herself fixated on the bob of his Adam's apple. "but I guess my shop is a bit too far from the boardwalk for people to bother."
"A sign or two wouldn't hurt! I just came here because I was desperate."
She took a few sips of her own soda, relishing the cool orange fizzle of Fanta down her throat.
"Marketing tips, huh? Well, advice wouldn't hurt." he said, his tone shifting. "Especially if it's from a pretty girl like you."
Lucy's eyes turned up to his comment. She immediately flushed, just now noticing where his eyes were looking.
She suddenly felt a little self-conscious, remembering what she was wearing; as she leaned forward against the counter, her cleavage kissed the surface of the wood, hanging low in the floral white-pink of her bikini top, its fabric perfectly complementing the unblemished creamy complexion of her bare skin, the denim short shorts that hugged her waist riding high up on her thighs, the string of the bikini bottoms inside them tantalizingly gripping her hips.
Having just turned 18 a couple weeks ago, Lucy was still getting used to the fact that she was now technically a woman. And she looked like one too.
She wasn't on the cheer squad like her friends, but varsity lacrosse toned up her body enough to perfectly complement the more...natural supple endowments of her assets: D-cups, plump and thick thighs to complement her long legs, and wide hips that gave her a perfect hourglass. Her boyfriend was almost a childhood comfort at this point, his admiration for her body almost like background noise considering how perfunctory the relationship was now; they'd been dating since middle school, and now that Lucy was a senior, she'd realized she never had time to explore and receive other men's attention.
She was suddenly aware of the trickles of sweat that ran down the expanse of her tight young body, how her skin probably shimmered in the wafting rays of noon light. An excited flush filled her freckled cheeks.
Lucy brought her attention back to the shopkeeper's eyes. Not lecherous, exactly, but he wasn't bothering to hide that he appreciated what he saw. He was probably drinking her in the moment she'd stepped through that door, watching her stumble over to his counter in a daze. The thought of this stranger checking her out when she was in such a state should have made her at least a bit uncomfortable...
...but with her bearings about her now, Lucy finally took time to appraise the shopkeep, noting his burly arms, the stubble on that jawline, the weathered tan of his skin. He'd gotten a headstart in...whatever this was, the faint crackle of tension that was so-very-apparent in the few minutes she'd gotten to know him, but teenager or not, Lucy wasn't naive.
He was hot. She'd let him look. She'd look right back. She played into it, walking a few steps away from the counter to see if his eyes stayed. They did, and she felt a mischievous spark light up in her chest. Her boyfriend was probably busy playing volleyball with the boys, his own wandering eyes checking out girls on the beach. He wouldn't mind if she was gone for a bit.
Yeah, she'd entertain him for a bit. It was the least she could do.
Afterall, wasn't this the guy who saved her life?
She handed him another smile, talking more steps away from the counter to cast her attention to the actual wares of his shop. She took another sip of soda.
"So, you own this joint?"
"Yeah. My ol' gramps gave it to me before he passed. Collected a whole bunch of shit throughout his life." the shopkeep said, walking out from behind the counter. He stood next to her as she ran her fingers through the spines of dusty tomes that must have been unopened for decades.
