Scott wheeled his truck out of the depot and headed toward the beach. It was a bright summer morning and he knew there would be plenty of eye candy out and about. He also knew that it would put him behind an hour on his soft drink delivery run but what the heck at 24, life was too short to stress about an hour.
Scott expertly manoeuvred the four ton truck slowly along the foreshore, all the time swinging his head left and right to catch a glimpse of bikini clad bodies aimlessly strolling along the walkways or heading toward the beach. He carefully pulled into a lay away and stopping, he casually rolled a cigarette and watched three girls in their late teens, basking in the morning sun. It didn't take him long to notice the girls were topless and while he was enjoying the scenery, one of the girls stood. She noticed Scott and unashamedly began walking toward him.
"Hey Mr. Soft drink man," She called, making her way toward him. "How about selling me some drinks?" She asked, as she slowly made her way up the sandy rise.
"Sure," Scott called, somewhat hoarsely, trying desperately to swallow the lump in his throat and not think about the rise in his shorts. "They're not cold," he added, awkwardly climbing from his truck. He had trouble keeping his eyes off her nubile body and noticed the slight bounce of her ample breasts, the sway of her nicely rounded hips and the flatness of her stomach that fell away to a perfectly shaped pair of long legs.
Suddenly she was standing before him saying "Anything will do, it doesn't matter if it's not cold."
"Well, well, I do keep some on ice for myself." He stammered. "I recon I can let you have a couple of them," he said, reaching into his esky. "So long as you don't mind lemonade," He laughed.
"No, cold lemonade is fantastic," she said, and then asked. "What's your name and how often do you come along the beach?"
"I'm Scott," he replied. "I only come along here on a Tuesday after loading my truck at the depot. He replied. "How about you?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm Rebecca and my two friends and I are here for a week. We have rented villa 22 in the Beachcomber across the road." She answered, taking the lemonade bottle and gently rolling it across her breasts.
"Oh, that is nice," she cooed. Her nipples instantly puckered up and jutted outward.
"Yes," Scott agreed, trying to discreetly re-adjust his rising manhood, as it sought to take a look for it's self.
"Scott, do you mind calling back this afternoon and I will pay you for these drinks" Rebecca said, "you can see, I haven't got my wallet with me." She added with a smile.
"Sure," Scott replied. "I know where you live, number 22." He said, with a laugh.
"Terrific, you're the greatest Scott." She said, turning and heading toward her friends.
Scott sat admiring the swing of her body and the stride of her long legs. Quietly he laughed and said, aloud to himself. "I have probably just been screwed for two bottles of lemonade. Then noticing the time, he cursed and again said aloud. Gees, Mrs. Smith will be wondering where I am with her lemonade.
Scott pulled out of the layaway and tooted his horn. Rebecca waved and called "See you this afternoon, Scott." Scott never heard her reply, over the roar of the motor.
Mrs. Smith was anxiously waiting with her two empty lemonade bottles in her hand. "You're late Scott." She called, making her way toward his truck.
"Yes, sorry Mrs. Smith". "I had some trouble with my eyes," he said, handing her the drinks. "But I'm alright now," He quickly added with a chuckle. Climbing into his truck an instant replay of a topless Rebecca flashed through his mind and he began to laugh.
The morning went fast and by lunch he had made up the lost time. He had one delivery to go before breaking for a quick snack. It was a long hard haul up to the outlook for one weekly delivery, three bottles of cola and three of dry ginger ale for number 33. Scott never really minded the long trip to the top, he had made a bit of a game out of it. He would try and guess if Mrs. Wilson would be home and anticipate if she would be in the pool, the sauna or sun baking on the deck Mrs. Wilson or Susan as she preferred, was an airline hostess and she liked to keep herself trim and tanned. The secluded property allowed for her to be as close to nature as she desired and Scott knew she liked to be very close to nature at times. Mr. Wilson was a geologist with the mines and spent a lot of time away.
While he turned and parked outside 33 Scott noted the temperature gauge on the truck had begun to drop to normal. Climbing from the hot cab he noticed a cool breeze waft up from the valley below. Nice views he said to himself, looking down over the tops of the houses below and onto the tree lined golden sandy beach. He could easily make out the white caps on the incoming waves and he felt a sudden desire to be there with the semi naked Rebecca.
Shaking that thought from his mind he reached for three bottles of cola and three of dry ginger ale and imagined a semi naked Susan Wilson, sun baking on the deck. He quickly headed up the winding path toward the side deck.
Climbing the stairs and opening the gate to the side deck, he headed to the drink crate at the far end. Muffled voices came from a small gymnasium room partway along the deck. Scott's curiosity had been aroused and he momentarily stopped to investigate.
"Hi Scott," Susan called, when she noticed him at the open door.
"Hi Susan. Just the usual order this week?" he asked, glancing around the gym and noticing a tall blonde woman sitting astride the work bench. His sharp eye quickly noticed the woman's trim figure, clad in white skimpy shorts and red sports bra that just managed to restrain her ample breasts.
