Did you reach out to take my hand and pull me close so I'd be right there?" Brad asked, blowing gently on his coffee. Ashley shook her head miserably."Hmmmmmm... strange," Brad commented quietly. "Well... heck... did you figure out I wasn't beside you and... let's see... did you stop and yell back at me maybe?" Ashley fastened her eyes on the tabletop. "No? No, you didn't do that either, did you?" Brad said."Oh... by the way, just for my information," Brad remarked, "would you tell me why my bride of twelve months couldn't be bothered to even introduce me to her old fuck buddies?" Brad rasped. The anger was slowly coming to the front. He carefully throttled it back.Ashley's fingers twined about themselves in her lap. "Baby... I'm so sorry," Ashley sighed. "That was so wrong. I know it was... I just wasn't thinking. It was like I was in a trance and I couldn't feel anything... you know?" The silence built for a moment. Both swigged their coffee and stared at their hands."They. Instead of remembering to keep my game-face on, I let myself drink her in, day after day. I watched her lithe catlike form on the board, admiring her tenacity. And fuck, did she ever have a gorgeous face. I was like a teenage boy with his first crush. My eyes lingered on the tempting swell of her small breasts, and the impossibly supple curves of her sandy calves as she walked the beach with a confidence that couldn’t be faked. She reminded me of a coltish Brigitte Bardot or some pretty young thing from a vintage Playboy magazine. She was pure candyfloss on my tongue from that very first taste in early May. She had been a staple at the beach throughout most of the previous winter, when the usual crowds began to thin. Typically only the die-hard surfers remained, trading rash guards for wetsuits. Quite honestly, I hadn’t expected her to stay either. But there she was, like a shiny black neoprene seal, with those disarming mermaid locks, paddling her board out into the cold ocean..
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