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that Id seen a dude break his surfboard. Even less did I want to see him when he got to shore. Surfers cried over old boards, let alone boards they broke surfing. Take the right off-center surfer and this could turn into a weep fest for days to come. I needed none of that. But I walked up to where she stood, seeing the setup there. "Nope, you have to stay. If you go watch a movie youll miss a magical evening here on the beach with me." She started gathering up some driftwood, of which there were huge piles of it everywhere, and set them in the fire ring. The fire ring itself was twelve feet across, fully surrounded by stones, then six individual benches; two facing out to sea and four around the fire. Rustic hideaway. I walked all the way up from the edge of the ocean to the fire ring. "Why are you even here on shore? Shouldnt you be surfing?" I asked. We were standing in a place I often hiked to, a place to rest, have a beer, and shout if you wanted to. It was a good place. "Injured my shoulder and leg and the doctor said no surfing for a while," she seemed pleased with herself. "Longest Ive gone without surfing in fifteen years or more." "Id think that walking around on these rocks would be even worse for it." I said, trying not to sound grown up. "I have my own secret trail that I come down. It avoids all those rocks," she said. There were some yells from the ocean as several surfers caught the largest wave Id seen that day. It looked like fun, but still I didnt want to learn. Two hours later the sun had set, beer was gone and so were all the surfers. Minutes after I met Darla there were a dozen or more surfers with beers, joints and whiskey, warming themselves by our fire. A few girls, mostly guys. Wrapping up an awesome day of surfing for them. All but one of them. His bad luck causing their good. They drank, then changed out of wetsuits, then drank some more, then left. I enjoyed watching the girls change. They did so as if at home, not caring or giving heed to the men nearby. We were all considered surfers after all, not necessarily men. Nudity was accepted here. It was down to Darla and I quite quickly, and Burbank of course. He was a little ticked at me for not getting him home to eat right away after his walk, but hed also missed out on my encounters with Veronique and other lovely women and he somehow knew he wanted to be a part of this one. Maybe he felt the mysticism, I didnt. But it was a cool vibe. Though all the surfers had tried in their own way to explain it to me, I had to finally just realize that it was just like a religious


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ideal or object, and that I either believed or I didnt. In this case I accepted it because Darlas enthusiasm made me do so. Her surfer friends ranged in age from 20 through 40, so I wasnt too old for the group. I was closer to 30 than 20, hell, closer to 40 than 30, but I had an easygoing manner about me, and between Burbank and I we could usually make friends with most anyone. "Massage my leg again?" asked Darla. She had a pleasant smile on her face. She reminded me of Sarah Jessica Parker in LA Story without all the ditsy blonde bullshit. She was a warm, scratch that, she was a hot spirit that made everyone feel good when she looked into their eyes. I had seen it in people she talked to that night, which was great, but it also made me realize that she was like that and I was nothing special. She turned on the hearts of men everywhere, not just me. "Yes," was all I needed to say. She sat down next to me and draped her left leg over my right leg. The sun had disappeared an hour earlier and the half moon rose, casting its light through the sparse clouds, down to the beachside area. Throughout the evening I was impressed at how Darla interacted with everyone, and even more surprised when after an hour or so she became inseparable from Burbank and I, which of course caused Burbank to want to stay at the beach. Maybe I had a chance. My hands worked into the flesh on her calf, enough suntan oil left there to provide some lubrication and smooth out my strokes. Id worked on both her legs, her lower back, shoulders, and shed given the same in return. Her hands were skilled but unknowing, relying on impulse and feeling to know where to go next. Exactly the way I worked. Darla laid her head back on the back support of the bench seat. She closed her eyes though kept petting Burbank, setting up a tranquil moment of moon inspired night. After a few minutes I started to wonder if she was asleep and her hand was just responding to the continued motion of petting the dog. Then I dug a little deeper into her thigh than I should have and it brought her right back up to the surface. "Ow, hey," she said as she punched me on the chin hard enough to let me know there were lines that both people could cross. "Youre never going to make out with me unless you kiss me," she said, turning her head my way. I kissed her. What did you think? Id start preaching a Mormon sermon? No. Im handsome enough in my own right, but the days when 26 year old girls hit on me regularly, I had been one year off, were in the past. They happen and when they do I write about them. Then she pulled up and kissed