Time and tide wait for no man, someone once said. They were right. Add to those two fixtures, the uncertainty of weather, along with a rugged cliffside and you had a set of circumstances for the magic that was to overtake two lives, not yet aware of each other. Each affected by the surging of their own blood, the anger in their hearts, and the urge for some incomprehensible dream. How could they know what fate had decreed for them?
Brad Machin had a cosy flat not far from the beach and often came down for a morning swim. He was earlier than usual, tempted by the June sun from which the beach was in shadow until it rose higher. That very shadow would match the mood of gloom damned Rita had left him in. Not many mornings ago they'd been breakfasting together after their customary night of hot pleasure. No more. Her buns were now being toasted by that flashy rich guy.
Adding to his anger, on this morning, was his own stupidity for not carrying out his normal check on tide times, especially since now was the season of flood tides. A time when the much higher water smashed against the rocks and cliff face creating dangerous cross currents which could pull the unwary bather under. True, it would be a short while before it was crashing against the cliffs.
But the way the more distant waves boiled, had Brad wondering if the sea was as angry as he was. He gave a low growl under his breath, heaved at the small haversack on his back and thought about going back to his empty flat. Damn Rita. Didn't life stink?
Suddenly, a mighty clash overhead made him duck reflexively. An explosion? Then the ensuing low rumble told him it was thunder, and across the bay, lightning flashed. Brad, in his despondency had not noticed the darkening sky, as the sun must have become cloud covered beyond the cliff.
With equal suddenness, large drops of rain, heavier than any domestic shower, splashed down on him, pimpling the dry sand. The wind increased as, head down, he sprinted for the only cover within more than a hundred yards, the Rocky Cave, which, was merely a deep fissure in the cliff. As a kid he had played inside the shadowed cove, hunting monsters.
Running hard, he knew it was futile really, since he was already drenched, with shirt and pants clinging to his body. Then, his rain-blinded eyes picked out the figure of a woman, covered in a long green kaftan, running from the opposite direction. A small handbag hung from one shoulder, and a pair of green shoes were in one hand They reached the opening at the same time, and Brad saw how rain had glued the material of the voluminous kaftan to a pair of very shapely and braless breasts over a flat belly. Together, they darted under the rocky cover
Tawny hair hung wet and attractively straight to her shoulders. Out of her rain streaked face a pair of angry blue eyes, blinked and glared at Brad as though blaming him. But, under the shelter, she faced out towards the incoming sea, which was multi-dimpled by the pouring rain, which fell with increasing force.
"Summer storm," Brad said weakly.
"Life sucks," she replied bitterly. She looked back at him and, momentarily, her eyes dropped down over his soaked body. "How high does the tide come?"
Brad indicated the solid damp sand all the way to the large rocks at the back.
She looked, frowned, and the breasts under the kaftan heaved, as Brad, enjoying the uncertain look on what was a lovely face, told her, "In an hour it'll be two feet deep, at least, in here." Not wishing to alarm her further, he added, "It's possible to clamber up those larger rocks, to a narrow plateau well away from the water."
For a moment, she looked from the rocks, to the pouring rain outside, before she said, "I'm not going out there, if, as you say, it's safe in here."
"It'll be five or six hours before the tide recedes enough to get out," Brad advised, already having made his mind up to chance the rain. Her next action changed his mind completely
"Well, I'm not standing around in wet gear," she said, wedging her handbag and shoes in a small crevice. Without another word she crossed her arms, gripped the wet fabric, and in one smooth motion she pulled the kaftan over her head. Briefly, while her face was tangled in the kaftan, Brad had an unobstructed view of a pair of finger-tingling pink tipped breasts.
All she was wearing was a pair of lacy blue panties, almost sheer because of the rain, revealing that there was no pussy hair, and consequently a clear suggestion of the beginning of her cleft.
"False modesty doesn't become me, anymore" she said coolly, as she held up her wet kaftan. Brad, brooding on that strange admission, stooped to his haversack and produced the large bath towel he had brought. Keeping his eyes averted from the allure of her naked body, Brad handed her the towel, while taking the kaftan from her.
Draping the garment over a large rock which would be clear of the water, he stripped off his own wet shirt, lay it out kicked off his sandals, and turned back. She was standing there, towel still unused, as she eyed him appreciatively.
"I think you'll be more comfortable out of all your wet things." And as she nodded downwards and added, "Too shy?"
Hell, he'd never been accused of that before, and very quickly he tugged his pants down. She gave a little grunt of surprise as his already semi-erect cock was freed to her eyes.
The situation was so unreal, and the storm in his mind outdid the storm beyond the cave mouth. "I'm Brad, by the way. Aren't you-?" He indicated the towel hanging loose from her hand.
Her smile was weak as she replied, "Call me Linda. Would you dry me?" And she held out the towel to him.
Brad was stunned by the whole turn of events, as tide and downpour splashed just beyond them. She, this Linda, was asking him to rub the towel over her naked body.
She pointed a finger, and said, "Did the prospect of drying me cause that?"
Brad glanced down to see his erect cock rising. What could he do but shrug?
"You think I'm some kind of slut?" Her mouth twisted with emotion. "I suppose I am, now, but nine months ago I was a virgin." Her blue eyes scanned his face before she added, "Does that not surprise you?"
Brad was certainly confused, but he said, "What you think of yourself has to be your business." Strange thoughts were rising in the back of his mind, as he patted the towel gently over her wet shoulders, her upper arms and down her sides.
"So, why are you wary of my breasts?" she asked.
Brad had always thought of himself as a lusty character, and briefly Rita came into his mind, as she had just a moment earlier. He was quick to dump the thought, as he concentrated on gently rubbing her breasts. Even under the towel they felt exquisitely rounded and full. Brad wondered how smooth they might be under his bare hands.
"Do my legs and then my back, before I return the favour."
Bending, he passed the towelled hand down her thighs, and up to stroke fast but deliberate along her panty covered crease. Brad wondered whether his cock had hardened even more, at the prospect of what could be lying ahead.
He straightened to find her staring directly into his face, an unreadable expression in her eyes. Then she turned her back, so he could use the towel there. Those buttocks looked so ready to be fondled.
