*If you're looking for a quick read, you might want to try another contest offering. This is one of those stories where, because you're not sure where it's going when you sit down to write, it meanders before coming back to a satisfying conclusion.
In the newspaper business, some us would call it an epic as it features a lot of words. Hell, in a newspaper, it'd be a multi-part series. But if you're patient, and not in a hurry, read along and I hope you enjoy how it all turns out.
This one's practically a novella.
*
It was late in the day, but Clayton Bean was sweating heavily as he made his way up the steep and seldom-travelled Cliff Trail.
It was the first day of the holiday and he was going to take full advantage of it. With only a couple of weeks of freedom before he started some college courses, and with a job working late shifts at the Red Dog Bar in place, Clay planned to make the most of his days.
Take today, for example. He was going to study photography after the holiday break and instructors at the college wanted to see photos that were much more than just mom and pop shots, or landscapes from the neighbourhood. And so Clayton had set himself a goal of getting some outstanding photos of the whales that called the waters around his island home.
It was a little early in the season to be spotting whales, but after lunch, Clayton had stuffed food and some small binoculars in a pack and had decided to head up Cliff Trail. The top of the trail, he knew, was an ideal spot to see whales sounding offshore. Once he knew they were in the area, he'd try and identify a location where they were spending time and then try and talk the old man into letting him use the boat to get on the water and get photos that would result in work that stood out from other students.
Clay was pretty sure other students in his classes wouldn't be able to match photos of porpoises and whales in their natural setting -- if he could find them and capture their images digitally. He thought he might as well take advantage of what his island had to offer.
Three quarters of the way up the steep trail, he stopped to have a drink of water and he stuffed his t-shirt into a side pocket on his pack. Might as well catch the last few rays of sun while he was out, he thought.
Hefting his pack again, he made his way to the top of the trail. The sun was starting its descent for the evening, gulls squawked as they rode the updrafts and out to sea, swells made their way into shore.
A short while later, at the top, he sat on a rock and pulled the binoculars out of his pack. With the warm setting sun at his back, he began scanning the surface, hoping to catch sight of whales fairly close to shore. Carefully, he swept the binoculars back and forth across the water, hoping to catch sight of the large mammals, or blasts into the air as they surfaced to breath.
After long minutes intently studying the surface, Clay was about to give up. He hadn't spotted anything and it looked like he'd have to keep watch again the next day. In the distance, though, he spotted a sailboat approaching from the east. Its white hull and sail caught the late sun, turning them a warm, golden hue.
Having given up on spotting whales that evening, he focused on the sailboat as it made its way slowly inshore. It appeared there was just one person on deck, at the wheel, steering toward the tiny cove below Clay's lookout. As the boat neared, Clay could see a bare chested, bearded man sitting with his feet up in the cockpit, a light hand on the wheel and one holding a beer. The man appeared to be wearing, and he squinted as tried to make it out, a Santa hat of all things...
As the boat continued toward shore, Clay reached into his pack for a sandwich and Coke, then went back to watching the sailboat. Man, he whispered to himself, she's a beauty, the kind of boat he dreamed of owning some day. Then it'd be just him and the sea, man, as he sailed around on freelance photography assignments to ports around the world.
With his binoculars in one hand, he munched on his ham and cheese, which he held in the other. Below, he watched as the boat lost its way in the lee of the island, the sail stilling and the hull slowing further. As he watched, the man at the wheel got up and made his forward. Clay noticed that, besides the Santa hat, the man was buck naked. He chuckled to himself as the guy made his way to the bow and hoisted the anchor overboard.
The anchor splashed into the clear water of the tiny cove and the man made his way back to the mast, where he lowered the sail and squared everything away. The boat was directly below him and had stopped close to shore, swinging on the anchor line to present the stern and her name, the Jo Joe.
As Clay watched, the naked guy walked to the stern, cock hanging freely and no tan lines in sight. He must do that all the time, Clay thought to himself. Nice. The guy had a bit of a gut on him, some grey in his beard and his cock hung out of dark patch of pubic hair.
At the stern, the man dumped some charcoal into a barbecue on a stand and bent to pick up a bottle. He sprayed fluid generously over the charcoal, then reached inside the door to the cabin. Stepping back to the barbecue, the man struck a match and tossed it in. The fluid ignited brightly and Clay heard a swoosh of it starting. He chuckled. "Look out, old man, don't want to burn off anything important."
The guy sat back and picked up his beer, drinking it as the coals burned. Clay finished his sandwich and sipped his Coke. Still watching, the guy sat in the cockpit with his beer and called to someone below. Clay watched as a woman stepped out of the cabin below with a tray of food.
As she stepped from the cabin door into the cockpit, Clay first noticed she had on a headband thing with goofy reindeer antlers sticking out. Then he noticed she was also naked, except for a red, white and green scarf. He set down his Coke to steady the binoculars with both hands. As he kept his view on the cockpit, he noticed the scarf hung between her large breasts. She had shoulder-length, mostly grey hair and, when she turned to offer the guy another beer, he saw she had a dark patch of pubic hair.
"Not too bad," he mumbled as he watched them. Her body wasn't awesome like the porn babes he liked to watch on his computer, but big tits and no tan line either... The guy stood up and took a beer from her. He took the tray from her with his other hand and set them both by the barbecue. He turned back to her and, grabbing her scarf, pulled her close and kissed her.
