Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (11 page)

~
SEVEN
~

He had slept in.
Very
in. It had been many years since he had slept past noon. Reminding
himself that he was on vacation and that was what vacations were all about, he
stretched the kinks out and let his mind drift. Last night's dream was markedly
different, and it wasn't just due to the book he'd been reading. Part of it
could be attributed to the recognition that he was dreaming—a recognition
that took place while he was still immersed in the dream. He was almost certain
that had never happened to him before. He also couldn't remember ever having a
dream that he could recall with such clarity after waking. In fact, until the
dreams about
her
started, he seldom remembered his dreams at all.

He experienced
the same general "morning after" feeling that he had come to expect,
but the part about something missing seemed blunted. He wondered if his
proximity to the beach caused the shift. Until yesterday, he had still been
fighting the pull: the idea that maybe it—and she—could be real.
The incident in the coffee house made him to reevaluate that position. Perhaps
there really was a reason for him to be here, now—a reason far more
important than any idle delusion. He realized at that moment that his thinking
had shifted from
if
to
when
. He really intended to go through
with it. He would have to start earlier if he was going to walk over from the
Shores. Although he had never actually been to Black's, he figured that under
any other circumstances, he would just climb down the cliffs. But, last night
in the dream, he very clearly walked over from the public beach and past
Scripps. So, that would be his approach. After all, if he was going to follow a
dream, he might as well follow all of it—down to the last remembered
detail.

He knew that if
any of his friends had told him they were going to do what he now planned to
do, he would be merciless—calling him a fool, a hopeless romantic, and a
dreamer. Why tilt at windmills when there were real battles to fight out there?
But every time he remembered her face shining in the setting sun, he lost his
power to resist. No, he was going to make that long hike this evening. Then,
perhaps, he would sit on the dark sand and watch the sun slip beneath the
breakers calling himself all of those names. But, at least he would not regret
not doing it. It was strange how things came back. He used to have that little Michael
Jordan poster in his office three years ago: "You miss 100% of the shots
you don't take." Well, he was going to take the shot this time. He headed
down to the lobby to get started on his pre-game warm ups.

”Hey, get my car
for me?”

“Absolutely! Black
Mercedes, right? On my way, sir!” The valet rushed off. He’d like to think that
the boy would have moved just as quickly if he was fetching the beat up Ford
Ranger he drove back in Portland, and maybe—working in this eclectic
little enclave—he would have. A local working as a valet at
La
Valencia
probably learned quickly not to judge a book by its cover.
Regardless, the kid was earning his tip and generating a little good karma
might be a wise way to start this day.

The teenager
returned behind the wheel of the rented luxury car and hopped out, holding the
door open. Slipping him the fifty, he asked the question that would help fix
the next piece of the puzzle.

“They still have
a Banana Republic at University Towne Center, kid?”

“I’m not sure,
but I know they have one at Fashion Valley, sir. Need something a little more
casual?”

“Yes. I have a
very specific pair of cotton khaki shorts in mind actually. Have a great day
now.”

The valet looked
at the bill in his hand and smiled. “I think I just might, sir! You, too!”

“You know what,
kid? I will. Somehow, I just know it.” He eased the Mercedes onto Prospect and
let it purr its way into the afternoon traffic.

~
EIGHT
~

When she finally
woke, it took her a few minutes to adjust to the sun's position in the sky. She
had never been able to sleep past seven before, for her mind typically whirred
to life before dawn each day—regardless of when she turned in the night
before. The mysterious dreams only served to augment that mental activity. On
the weekends, she'd often try to snag another hour or so, but if she did manage
to get back to sleep, she'd wake with a sleep hangover—feeling less
rested rather than more so. This morning, however, she felt wonderfully rested
and eager for evening to arrive. Her body hummed with anticipation.

Drifting
trance-like through memories of her most recent dreams, she spent most the day
just strolling along the beach, snapping photos, and even tossing Frisbee with
a couple kids. The dreams had been more vivid and powerful than ever before, as
the aftershocks frequently reminded her throughout the day. And yet, in spite
of repeated release, she had never been hungrier for sex. The multiple orgasms
she experienced in her sleep only served to whet her appetite for real physical
contact: skin to skin.

As the afternoon
waned, she started back toward
La Valencia
to bathe and prepare for the
encounter. She pulled up to the valet station just as a sleek black Mercedes
pulled away. Another valet, who looked as if he'd be more comfortable on a surfboard,
greeted her as he opened her car door. As she stood, he turned to open the door
to the lobby for her as well.

"I can
carry your purchases for you, miss," the young valet commented as they
both walked toward the hotel.

"Thanks,
but I've got energy to spare today."

Tossing the keys
in the air with one hand and catching them with the other, he winked at her.
"It certainly is a beautiful day, isn't it? Something's just so very
right
about it."

"You can
say that again," she agreed, entering the lobby as held the door,
"and it's only gonna get better."

Smiling and
waving at him, she turned and stopped short. She felt a familiar
presence—just as she had the previous morning over her coffee and again,
later, while having dinner at
The Spot
. Across the lobby, the doors of
the elevator were just beginning to close. The lone man inside had his head
down, looking at the bank of buttons. She could've easily darted across the
lobby in time to stick her hand between the doors and stop them from closing,
but something told her to wait. In the split second before the doors met, she
noticed the Banana Republic shopping bag he carried.

As she moved
toward the elevator to await its return, it dawned on her that she'd never
regarded tonight's meeting as an isolated event, but instead viewed it as the
beginning of something much more profound: the type of relationship she'd
always feared and avoided to the point of backing away when anyone got too
close. What's more, she knew that once they came together, they'd not be able—nor
want—to part. The completion of their circuit would enable long dormant
currents to flow through their lives. Any lingering skepticism about the
veracity of the dream had evaporated the very moment she pinpointed the beach's
location on the Internet. From that point on, she moved forward with
confidence.

Once back in her
room, she showered, standing in the hot spray for far longer than usual while
musing about the evening ahead. There really weren't any decisions to make,
since her attire was already etched into her memory: light, comfortable
cottons, which could be easily shed. There was no pretense, either. This would
be the ultimate '
come as you are
' party, for the dreams told her that
they'd be nude even before their first embrace. It seemed fitting, somehow, for
them to begin that way: raw and natural, yet as fiery as the setting sun that
would embrace their union.

Her jaunt the
previous evening had been like visiting a place both new and familiar: déjà vu
to the n
^th
degree. She knew every step of the way without thinking,
without concentrating. It was beyond instinct. It was memory—dream
memory—and it convinced her, beyond all doubt, that if she dared back
away from this fire, she'd regret it for the rest of her life. The trick, of
course, was to enjoy its heat without getting burned.

Although she was
too keyed up to be hungry, she'd purchased some fresh fruit earlier in the day
with the intent of taking it along. The hike would be rigorous and, of course,
the anticipated aerobics on the beach would require a bit of energy as well. It
wouldn't do to run out of steam, she grinned, climbing into the car and tossing
the baggie full of raspberries onto the passenger seat.

The trek back to
Torrey Pines went exactly as rehearsed, and she pulled into the Gliderport
parking area just before six, half an hour before sunset. She exited the car
and leaned against it for a few moments while a wave of vertigo passed. The
airy feeling at the base of her throat made her want to bubble with maniacal
laughter.
I am absolutely crazy
, she mused,
and it feels fabulous!
The boots felt heavy on her feet, and her clothing, although light and loose,
chafed. Her whole being ached to be naked and to feel his hot skin against her
own.

~
NINE
~

He couldn't
remember just why he thought it would be a good idea to walk the three miles
from La Jolla Shores. He felt vaguely silly, but every time he decided he was
an idiot and should just turn around and head back to have a nice dinner or
call an old friend, he suddenly remembered her and knew he had to continue on.
He just could not take the chance. If he was wrong, the walk would do him no
harm, and he would still have plenty of time for a night out.

He passed the
"Mushroom House" his ex had mentioned so long ago and now approached
the yellow post with the letters "TPCB," signifying
Torrey Pines
City Beach
, which he knew marked the end of the San Diego city area. It
also marked the unofficial beginning of the "clothing optional" zone.
Technically, nudity was now prohibited here too, and there was even a sign that
said so by the yellow marker. This was undoubtedly the right place. The trail
down the cliffs ended just ahead. Climbing it would take him to the glider
port. He could use his cell to call a cab from there, if necessary, or he could
just walk back the way he had come. It wasn't that bad a walk, not really.

The sun still
had a ways to go; maybe a half hour or more remained before it met the sea for
the evening. The beach actually was pretty empty. Part of that was surely due
to the time of year. Santa Ana or not, it was still December. Beach parties and
Christmas carols were not a conventional pairing. A couple of diehards reclined
on towels further north, but it was doubtful they had been in the water. The
warm wind from the desert did nothing to heat the water. Also, there were none
of the fire rings prevalent on other city beaches. With only the perilous cliff
descent or long beach hike available for bringing in firewood and supplies, he
now understood why the beach was so quiet at this time.

He had worked up
a bit of a sweat and the sun still had a ways to go, so he decided he would do
as his dreams "instructed" and go for a swim. A quick dip sounded
kind of nice, even at this time of year. What was considered deathly cold water
when he was younger felt only a little chilly to him now due to repeated
dunkings in the Columbia River while wind surfing. One thing that would be
different from the dreams: he had no desire to come back from his swim and have
the clothes be missing. He had forgotten how much it cost to look like you
didn’t spend a lot on fashion. Instead of leaving his clothes out in the middle
of the beach, he decided to fold them neatly and place them in a little niche
in the rocks, opting to take just his towel closer to the water. He started to
strip down, pausing for just a moment before pulling off his shorts. Having
never been nude in any kind of public situation other than a locker room, it
took him a moment to decide that it didn't matter. If he was crazy enough to
fly hundreds of miles and go ocean swimming in winter based on a silly dream,
risking a $135 ticket or a bit of embarrassment seemed downright trivial. He
tossed the boxers toward the rest of his clothes and turned to walk towards the
water, then stopped. He looked back over his shoulder at the neat pile of
clothes.

 He knew it was
silly. Things didn't happen or not happen because of details like that. Although
just as silly as turning your hat inside out at a ball game and thinking it
helps your team win, he didn’t dare take the chance. Walking back, he picked up
the neat pile and tossed his brand new clothes into the air. They floated down
randomly, scattered on the sands. He would leave no dream detail intentionally
unfulfilled. Then, he strode into the water, feeling very daring and much less
self-conscious than he would have imagined only a few days before.

~
TEN
~

The Burro Trail
began easily enough but quickly became more rigorous. A strong storm in back in
October had washed away many of the improvements made by a naturist group which
frequented the beach. Repairs were ongoing, and the worst of the landslides had
been cleared. However, it was still rough going for someone unaccustomed to
such terrain. It didn't help matters that each and every step caused a
delicious friction between her legs.

The beach itself
was not visible along several stretches of the trail, although the Pacific
could still be seen. She watched the sun sinking in the sky, pushing herself to
reach the shore before it actually met the water. The timing must be just
perfect.

Distracted by
her thoughts, she slipped on some scree and tumbled a few feet.
"Focus!" she berated herself, impatiently brushing the dust from her
shorts and picking a couple pieces of gravel from her abraded elbow. With
renewed concentration, she negotiated the final portion of the descent, trying
to ignore the brush of her nipples against the fabric of her shirt. Even
through her bra, the feeling sent shivers of anticipation to her core.