The PierI’d found the dead man just under the pier. The tide was going out, and the wash lapped at his sole-less boots. I almost didn’t notice him amongst the coke cans, car tires and bin bags. His grotty black coat and trousers were camouflaged amongst the debris. It was the light wave that lifted his arm up and down, as if he were calling for attention.

The sun had only just come up. The beach would soon be littered with size zero women and ‘wanna-bes’ pounding the sand in coordinating fitness gear, iPods drowning out the sound of the surf, shades blocking out the first warm rays of sunshine.

I’d been retracing my steps from the night before, looking for my red silk scarf. Edward had taken it from around my neck as he’d traced my jaw line and throat with kisses. I smiled at the memory, turning from the dead man and searching the litter for my shade of red.

The salty breeze had been cool then too, and as his warm lips touched my collar bone, I’d turned to see the lights from the pier bouncing off the sea like Aurora Borealis. I could hear distant screams from the Waltzer above as he ran his hand up my thigh and cupped my breast.

As his own moans joined the cacophony above, my hands moved through his hair, feeling the cool, dark strands against the back of my hands. I liked his hair. I hated gummed up locks that caught fingers like cobwebs. It’s so much nicer to be able to comb my well manicured fingertips through clean, gel free hair, tugging occasionally to slow him down.

His hot breath blew against my cheek. He smelt of beer and cigarettes, making me want to retch slightly. I hadn’t noticed when I’d been drinking wine. All I could see was the lust in his brown eyes, the slackening of his self control and the twinkling of his hot soul in the centre of his forehead.

I’d plied him with more beer. The bar on the pier was full of the slightly drunk at that time of night. They hung on to the counter, grinning inanely at the bar staff, at the same time scouring the emptying place for one last chance.

The familiar stirring between my thighs wasn’t because he’d released my breast from my blouse, or because his thumb brushed against the thin fabric of my knickers. It was the energy that pulsed from his temples as my fingertips lightly traced patterns on his temples.

I could hear the whisper of static as I started to pull gently at his soul. He hardly noticed, being so busy with belts and zips. He threw his head back in pleasure, eyes wide to catch the moons glow, and his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’.

I took the last of him as he entered me. I covered his mouth with my own and breathed him in. We’d sunk slowly to the sand, my orgasm coming around the same time as his. Although, where my eyes glowed with ecstasy, his dimmed and went out like a candle.

Drunk on him as I was, I couldn’t remember where I’d left him. I half hoped I’d pulled him into the sea and he’d been taken in. The sea has a vastness that can’t be compared to land. The lost are always welcome.

The sound of a cleaner whistling above me as he cleared away the cans and left over candy floss made me look up. It was then that I saw my scarf, caught on a nail in the weathered wood that crisscrossed under the pier. It was going to be another good day.


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