Beach Riders

This is a fantasy that derives from an experience a few years ago (which did not turn out as this role play should...). The starter shows, I hope, my style and what I am thinking of. We can agree a different starter- for example not going so far - and I am happy to talk any time.

The beach is so quiet after the day trippers have left: the sun is warm and the gentle breeze cool, alternately lifting the thin material of my light summer dress and then moulding it back to my body. I face the lowering sun, close my eyes, lift and spread my arms, feel the sun in my face, let the wind lift the hem of the dress, floating it around me, alone in the world and happy.

The roar of motorbikes fills the air: a gang of them riding on the sand. One passes close, splashing dark muddy sand on me, on my new dress.

I am so angry. I do not think. I stride up to where they stop, right up to their leader. I am so petite that I have to turn my face up to his, but I shout at him - scream in his face - my fury is like a white heat inside me. I take the hem of my dress in my hand, hold it out to him, demanding to know what he is going to do about it.

His eyes are amused. He reaches out, gently, takes the hem of my dress in his own hand, from mine, looks at it, considers, slowly, quietly. I become aware how tall he is, how close I am standing to him, how many of them there are, how they form a ring around us.

Without fuss, still with that gentle almost kind smile on his face, he suddenly tugs at the dress. The thin material tears at a side seam, almost up to my arm. The breeze brushes it aside, exposing my bare skin. “This!” he says, “is what I am going to do about it”.