| Surf's Up by destiny The early morning sunlight made its way out from behind a cloud, warming the chilly air considerably. Lance sighed as he zipped his wetsuit up. Tucking his surfboard under his arm, he studied the waves. Six am, deserted beach, solitude finally. He was tired, exhausted from touring, then recording, and then personal appearances. His mind was flowing with dates and times. Critical comments of late plagued him. He was dangerously close to burning out. Justin was already on his way there, and Lance struggled to avoid the same fate. The wind whipped by and Lance took a deep breath savoring the salty air. He watched the ocean's waves rip and jogged toward them. The beach was his true love, the place he could be whoever he wanted. Right now, he wanted to be Lance Bass, surfer. Diving into the water, he paddled out, floating out over the crests, biding his time for the perfect wave. Finding it, he popped up on his feet, riding the curl inland. A solitary figure walked along the beach scouting him out. A woman in her mid twenties, her short blonde hair whipping carelessly in the wind. She watched him from a safe distance. Lance Bass, her challenge. She'd done her homework, discovered his love of surfing and the beach. She'd scoured every beach within a twenty mile radius hoping to find him. Sitting in the cool sand, she gazed at his strong body, his muscles carefully hidden beneath his suit. Her stomach flipped nervously as he paddled back out to catch another wave. Lance lost himself in the ocean, letting his surfboard become an extension of himself. He dreamed of silly things like camping and hiking. Being lost while surfing was a dangerous move and soon, a wave swallowed him. The surfboard knocked unmercifully into his skull rendering him unconscious for a spell. She gasped as he spilled and scrambled to her feet as he went under. Dashing for the water, she held her breath as his board emerged without him. The water was ice cold as she dove in. Swimming toward the board, she saw his head pop up and sighed as he cursed. "Motherfucker!" Lance screamed, bobbing under the water. The salty water stung the small gash over his eye and he winced. Toward shore, he spotted someone headed his way, a mop of blonde with a panicked look. "I'm fine," he called out, hoping to keep his anonymity for a while longer. She heard him call out to her and waved. Turning back, she climbed from the ocean, shivering in the early morning air. Her teeth chattered involuntarily as she walked back toward her car, wrapping her arms around soaked tee shirt. "Dammit," she hissed, angry her plan had been spoiled. She'd meant to charm him, wow him into some kind of renezvous. With her soaking wet clothes and blue lips, she figured that plan was history. Lance surfaced from the water and tossed his board down. The sand crept up his ankles and he undid the latch that held him to it. The figure stalked away, shivering, and he felt bad. Joey always accused him of being too soft, but surely someone who tried to assist him deserved a thank you. "Hey!" he yelled, jogging to catch up to her. She stopped, her sneakers soggy with saltwater, her mascara bleeding down her cheeks. Her teeth continued to clink together as she turned around to face him. There he was, all wet and delicious looking, running to her. "Thanks," he said, catching his breath. "I mean for trying to help me out there." Lance ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, blinking back a drip of blood that threatened to spill in his eye. "No problem," she shivered. "You may want to have that cut looked at. It's bleeding pretty bad." Lance let out a sour laugh. "Thanks. It figures." He took her in with wide eyes, unable to help himself from staring through the drenched tee shirt. "You should probably get changed," he ventured, motioning toward her clothes. "Yeah," she said, rubbing her hands briskly over her arms. "I'm glad you're all right." "I'm Lance, by the way," he smiled, wiping his bloody hand on his wet suit. "Amber." She didn't mean to move closer. She didn't mean to brush her body against his when she took his hand. He didn't mean to lick his lips. He didn't mean to hold her hand a moment longer than necessary. The attraction was undeniable. Lance tried to swallow it back, remind himself he was famous and didn't need a complication in life. She tried to pull herself away from him, remind herself that he wasn't looking for her. "I should go," she whispered, her breath so close to Lance it tickled his neck. "Do you have to?" he asked, ready for a fling, one brief moment in time when he could roll around in lust and sex and not worry about who he was or what havoc it could cause. He wanted to push this stranger to the sand and peel her clothes off, devour her body with his lips and delve into her. His finger trailed up her arm and he smiled as she trembled. "No," she breathed. "I don't have to go." Lance took her hand in his and led her to the water. He spread his towel out without saying a word. Lying down, he pulled her to him, capturing her lips in a tentative kiss, her lips cool against his warm tongue. Amber sighed into his mouth, accepting this for what it was. Just a spontaneous moment in time with a beautiful man who desired her as she desired him. She could feel the sudden hardness pressed against her thigh. She dug her thigh into his groin firmly and was rewarded with a gutteral moan. She sat up, straddling him. With narrowed eyes, she pulled her tee shirt over her head and tossed it to the side. Lance held his breath, afraid to move or think too much. He feared his mind would change, override his body in an unfair move of betrayal. She was gorgeous, tanned and athletic, gazing down at him with nothing but lust in her blue eyes. She took his hands and guided them to her breasts. Slowly, she unzipped his wetsuit, tucking her hands inside to feel the smoothness of his chest, to touch his nipples gently, to explore his body with her fingertips. Lance rolled his head back, swimming in the luxuriousness of her stroke. Her hands were like feathers, kind and delicate, and he bucked his hips up as his need grew. The sand invaded his hair as the wind roared by, chilling them even in the heat of the moment. He pulled his hands back to strip the suit off him, exposing damp flesh for her hungry eyes. She lifted herself up as he took his suit off, and removed her shorts. His fingers reached for her, peeling her panties down over her hips and legs, grazing her silky skin. She stepped out gingerly. Lance grabbed her around the waist and guided her to the towel. His eyes sparkled in the sunlight as he traced her jaw line with his fingertip. "You're beautiful," he sighed, kissing her forehead. Amber didn't move. She simply closed her eyes, begging for this to be true. His large hands grazed over her stomach and he bent to kiss her belly button. His tongue darted in, and she bit her lip with pure desire. Lance nibbled on the tender flesh, letting his hand slip between her legs. He glanced up at her carefully as he did so, watching her face glow with pleasure. He was aware she knew who he was, aware of the fact if he wasn't famous, she wouldn't be with him. Lance understood he didn't have to be considerate of her feelings, he could just take what he wanted and leave. But he wasn't like that. He couldn't ever be like that. Too much respect. His hair dried in the breeze and he moved his body to cover hers. "Are you okay?" he asked lowly, sucking on her nipples. She muttered something back, too far gone in her own world to reply with any coherence. When he slid into her, she arched her back with a muted cry, unable to comprehend the overload of sensations that cascaded within her. Lance's eyes fluttered closed as he relished his own pleasure. He was careful not to push too hard, or too deep, holding his own wants back. Consideration was his strong suit and he moved gracefully, not too fast, not too slow. Amber clawed at his back in a fit of ecstasy, running her hands down his nakedness to squeeze his ass. Lance threw his head down, licking the hollow of her neck, listening to her whimper into his ear. He quickened his pace as the waves crashed around them, and he felt the tide rise to lick his feet. Pressing himself up on his elbows, he stared down at her while she writhed, her lips parted, tiny cries floating from her. As she came, her eyes opened. The look excited him and he muttered a small 'fuck', closing his eyes and holding on. His orgasm burst through moments later and he collapsed on top of her, feeling her fingers entwined in his short spikes. Minutes elapsed into one another and they lay, still attached, ragged breathing mixing with the sounds of the ocean. Lance rolled over sleepily, his pulse returning to normal. He wanted to exist like that forever, his body tingling from the release, the waves music to his soul, a beautiful woman warm next to him. The cell phone took him by surprise. "That's me," he chuckled as her eyes opened. She nodded silently as he stood up to rummage through his belongings for it. "Talk to me," he said, reaching for his shorts. He cradled the phone between his shoulder and neck and pulled the shorts up. "We're waiting," JC said flatly. "You feel like paying extra studio time outta your own pocket?" Lance sighed, tugging the watch out of his pocket. "Fuck. I'm sorry," he said. "Be there in ten." He stared down at the fresh face on his towel Awkwardness encompassed him. What to say? How to say it? "You have to go?" she asked, sitting up, hugging her knees to her chest. "Yeah, I do." His green eyes shone with uncertainty, unsure of what or how she would react. "I have someplace to be." Guilt crept up on him. He wanted no messy good byes. "I understand." Her breath caught in her as she gazed at him, tanned and blonde, his chest much more tone than he ever let on. Lance flung his tee shirt over his shoulder and grabbed his board. He was at a loss. "Keep the towel," he offered, noting her clothes were still damp. "Thanks," she replied with a smile. She sensed his hesitation, his eagerness to escape from the oddness of the situation. "I'm fine," she assured him, wrapping the towel around her body. "It was only what it was, Lance." She stood up and he tilted his head. "Really. Go on now." Lance nodded, glad he wouldn't have to say 'i'll call ya' or 'see you around'. "Take care," he smiled, heading off. "You too." She watched as he walked toward his car, standing still until his car was no more than a dot in the horizon. ****************************************************************************************************************** "N Sync's spreads some love" The headlines sprang to life in his eyes. "What the fuck!" Lance yelped as the newspaper was tossed down before him several days later. There she was, Amber, in all her glory with his towel and a disarming smile. "Hookers, Lance," Joey grinned. "Hookers don't talk." Lance swatted at the paper, the words taunting him. Every second of their escapade in black and white. He thought of his mother, his grandmothers, fuck, the fans, everyone. Disappointed, he hung his head in his hands. "No biggie," Joey continued, pushing a hot mug of coffee into his hands. "After all, I fucking fathered every kid under four in the southeast." He laughed heartily at his joke as Lance slunk down in the studio couch. The beach was tarnished forever. |