When Jerry woke up the next morning and dragged his ass out of bed Heather was missing in action. Her car was gone. So he fixed some coffee and ate some corn flakes. Then he took an old beat-up wooden surfboard down off the wall of the one-car garage and lugged it down to the beach. He spent the morning riding the tepid waves and in the afternoon went for a run and read a book on the beach. When he got back to the house in the late afternoon Heather’s car was back in the driveway.


That evening they decided to go see a movie at a hotel on the beach a few blocks south. It was an old hotel, not one of the modern high rise monstrosities. It was called The Reefer and was owned by an old hippie couple who were film buffs and on Friday nights, weather permitting, they showed old movies outside for free. The north exterior wall of the place was painted white and they it used for the screen and there were two beach volleyball courts right below. On Friday nights they would take down the nets and people would flock in early with their beach chairs to get good seats. The proprietors would set up an outside bar and sell drinks and popcorn and project the movie up onto the wall. It was a local summertime tradition that had been going on for years.



They grabbed a couple of beach chairs and hoofed it on down to The Reefer. It was well before dark when they got there so they were able to get a great spot right up front. Jerry got them beers in plastic cups and a big bucket of popcorn. It was a hot, sticky night and the beers went down cold and quick and he soon went to the bar for refills. As the twilight turned to dusk they talked about the movie they were about to see. It was ‘The Big Sleep’, an old Philip Marlowe film noir from 1946 with Bogie and Bacall.



It was a pleasant evening. Their conversation was free and easy and didn’t go near what they’d talked about the night before. After the movie on the way back they decided to go into a place called The Sandbar for a snack and a nightcap. It was popular with young people and had a reputation as a singles bar, but it served good food at reasonable prices and was so convenient to the beach house that they had both been there many times. There was seating inside and out but since they were wet with sweat they chose to go inside.



“Oh shit!” Heather said as they approached the entryway.



“What?” Jerry asked.



“There’s that creep who was hitting on me the last time I was here. His name’s Jason.” She pointed to a guy in cargo shorts and a tank top sitting at the outside bar. “Must be a local, that’s the same stool he was sitting on last time. Pretend you’re my boyfriend!”



Heather grabbed Jerry’s hand in a vise grip. Their fingers interlocked and they walked up onto the deck. Jerry liked the feel of her fingers and the dampness of her palm. They had to wait a minute or two at the door before they were seated. Jerry stole a sideways glance toward Jason. He was staring right at them.



They were seated at a deuce in the corner by the window with a great view of the highway. Jerry leaned their beach chairs against the wall and they sat down facing each other. Playfully he immediately slid his chair around the small table so it was adjacent to Heather’s and put his arm around her.



“What are you doing?” she asked, shying away.



“You said to pretend I’m your boyfriend,” he whispered into her ear. “So that’s what I’m doing.”



Heather cackled and said, “Well, back off Romeo, and behave yourself,” pushing him away. “I’ll let you know.”



Jerry was laughing as he scooted his chair back to where it had been. He caught the eyes of a couple at the next table. They were a good-looking pair perhaps a few years older. They had witnessed what he’d done and were smiling.



“He always gets frisky after we go to the movies,” Heather said, and they all laughed.



They ordered more beer and shared a couple of appetizers. They talked about the movie they’d just seen. There were a number of murders in the film but not all of them were solved.



“Who killed the chauffeur, anyway?” Heather asked.



“Hell if I know,” Jerry said.



They talked a little bit here and there to the couple at the next table. Bob and Fran, attractive, thirtyish, married four years. After Bob paid their tab he and Fran rose from their table and took a step closer to Jerry and Heather.



“Hey, do you guys swing?” Bob asked in a quiet voice.



Jerry and Heather looked at each other and shook their heads.



“Ah, too bad,” Bob said. “Are you straight? Or bi-? Or maybe bi-curious?”



“Straight,” Heather and Jerry said in unison.



“Too bad,” Fran said, looking right at Heather. Then they turned and walked away.



“Well, that was weird,” Heather said.



“Yeah, sure was. You’re quite a popular girl tonight.”



“Oh yeah, how’s that?”



“You have a guy out at the bar who wants to hit on you, the woman who just left wants to hit on you, and you have a pretend boyfriend right here at this table who’d like to hit on you but can’t.”



Heather’s eyes bored into his and with a coy smile she shook her head. “We better get on home. We’ve had too much fun for one night.”



----



Back at the house Jerry stowed the chairs into the garage and went into the house and up to his room. He pulled fresh clothes out of the dresser and went into the bathroom. He showered and when he returned to his room he noticed that Heather’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. He walked over and looked in. She was standing in front of the mirror brushing her hair. He tapped lightly on the door. She beckoned him in and continued to brush.



He opened the door and walked over to her.



“I just wanted to say thank you for the hot date,” he said. “It was fun being your fake boyfriend for a night. Maybe we can go again next Friday. They’re showing ‘Singin’ in the Rain’. Weather-permitting, of course.”



Heather’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. She turned toward him and said, “Yes, it was fun. You were a great date. We made a handsome couple.”



“That’s what Bill and Fran thought. And just think, if we were bisexual swingers we’d would have both got laid.”



“Ugh,” she said with a shiver. “That was creepy, strangers approaching us like that.”



They just stood there for a frozen moment peering into each others’ eyes.



“May I kiss you goodnight?” Jerry said in a low croak. He hadn’t planned it, it just popped out. But there it was.



Heather didn’t react at first, she just stood stock-still staring up at him. Finally with a slight shrug of her shoulders she nodded.



Jerry pressed his mouth gently against hers and instantly melted into the softness of her lips. He kissed her gently at first, then with more potency he pressed her lips with his and placed his hands on her hips. After about thirty seconds he pulled back. They stood close, their faces inches apart and their eyeballs wide and locked.



No words were exchanged, but after a silence that was probably not as long as it seemed Jerry could see Heather’s head shaking ever-so-slightly back and forth as if trying to comprehend a language she could not speak.



Jerry’s mouth found hers again and his hands left her hips and climbed their way around her back. Heather’s hairbrush fell onto the wood floor with a sharp clonk and her arms surrounded Jerry’s upper body. She felt his tongue trace along the subtle cleft of her joined lips and she opened them for him. His tongue flung into her and it felt large and strong in her mouth, a feral probe searching her, trailblazing into uncharted territory.



Heather liked the feel of Jerry’s arms wrapped around her. As the kiss went on she dug her fingers into the flesh of his back and her arms pulled him tighter than she expected, pressing her nipples against him. She felt his cock stiff against her stomach.



The kiss was long and hard just like Jerry’s dick. And as much as he wanted to tear Heather’s clothes off and throw her down on the bed he knew he wouldn’t.



When the kiss finally subsided Jerry followed it up with several sweet little pecks on her forehead and cheeks and chin and a finale on her lips. He relaxed his grip and they unwrapped.



“That was nice,” he said. She nodded with watery eyes. “Good night, Heather.”



Jerry turned and walked out of her room, trying not to stumble, and clicked the door shut behind him.



Heather sat down on her bed and picked up her hairbrush, and looked at her trembling hand.



“Fuck,” she said softly to herself.