Trip to the beach: Part Three

I woke at 4:30.  Wide awake in a bed so wide that as I cast a sleepy arm over for that first morning touch, that reassurance that he was there warm and asleep under the covers, he was literally almost out of reach.  But he had turned almost sideways and his feet were nearly touching mine.  It took some determined squirms to inch my way across that expanse of bed and snuggle up to him.  I cannot face the early dark morning without at least a little of that.  And then I slipped away.

I made coffee and logged onto the hotel’s wi-fi and read blogs until Master woke up… woke up in a singularly irritable mood.  The bed was not comfortable, the couch is not comfortable.  A cup of coffee and a cigarette did little to ease his grouch.  To my tentative question about morning plans (crossed fingers, still holding out for at least some vanilla hotel sex) I was informed that we were going for another walk (translate, pick up agates… yay!) before checking out.  I suggested that at only eighty bucks we could stay another day… visions of the car boot sagging under the weight of rocks dancing in my head.  But he gave me a pained look. “Not on that bed we are not.”  But walking on the beach in the early morning is good too and I hurried to put on my rubber boots.

The sky was light but the mountains to the east still hid the sunrise.  The tide was low but coming in rapidly and I think we were the first ones out there.  Ours were the first footprints in the sand.  And the pickings were good.  The other morning people trickled out, and it was no surprise that it was almost uniformly the old folks out.  All moseying along, staring at our feet, leaning over and picking up treasure.  It was fun, I remember one person showing me their finds and me leaning over and picking up a lovely large agate from between their feet and placing it in their palm.  

 Then Master found this funny rock.  I think KellyRed described it as a Paleolithic phallic simulacrum.  It was certainly phallic and big enough to make all the sphincters pucker up.  I am sure my eyes got a little big… with fear and perhaps longing.  My only protest was that he would have to put a condom on it… if they make condoms that big.

There was a bit of debate over if this was a random artifact of erosion or a truly Paleolithic tool… an ancient dildo or pestle or anchor.  But when I finally was handed it to carry back, it became obvious that the stone it was made of was so soft that it could not have been a tool.  But it was still compelling enough I had to bring it home, if for nothing more to have it laying around to make jokes with. 

I must say I got a few rude pokes as I leaned over to pick up shiny rocks.  And the rest of the old folks gave us startled looks when I would leap and yelp. 

We checked out, ate a late breakfast at the Pig and Pancake and headed home.  Even if there were no sexy details it was a truly fun and relaxing trip.  Master asked me if I had fun and I smiled and nodded and then made a small rueful face and placed my palms horizontally and slowly arched and flattened the top one suggestively and Master shrugged and said, “It just wasn’t going to happen.”  And I shrugged back and commented that picking up agates was better than sex anyway… some days. 

And once we were home I gathered all our treasure, picked out about a dozen of the best and threw the rest out in the driveway.  Now during the rest of the year, as I work in the yard I will see the sparkles and I will remember.