Copyright 2004 by asparkle2 at yahoo dot com.  All rights 
reserved.

Look Dave
=====by sparkle=====

"Look, Dave, I can see you're really upset about 
this."

Jolie edged backward, palms up and out.  She tried 
desperately not to laugh, making the words 
hesitant.   "It was an accident."

Dave glowered, encouraging the urge bubbling in her 
esophagus.  Sand clung to the wet mane around his 
ears and was embedded in his beard.  Glee was 
building.  When he opened his mouth to scold, wet 
sand trickled from his mustache and over his lower 
lip. 

Jolie lost the battle.

He spat it out and glared.

Jolie giggled merrily;  retrieving a plastic shovel 
from the now-wrecked sculpture, Dave deliberately 
smacked it against his hand.

Squealing, she turned and fled.  

Jolie might have outrun him another time.  Fleeing 
barefoot in the surf, shells pressing into her 
soles, was challenging.  His legs were much longer.  
Revenge was indisputably a motive -- tackling her 
wasn't difficult.  

Jolie went down in the salty froth, sputtering, 
still laughing audaciously.   Falling face first 
into water and wet sand should have warned her that 
an abject apology was appropriate.  When she didn't 
deliver, Dave grabbed her hips, pulled her away 
from the water and forcefully rubbed her entire 
front into the grit.  

Still gleeful, Jolie couldn't stop the laughter.  

Dave came down on his knees behind her, and taking 
her hair in his fist, rubbed her cheeks in the 
sand.  

Jolie knew she looked a sight.  She could feel the 
sand along her eyebrows and around her ears, 
tangling her braided locks.  Still, Jolie continued 
to laugh.  

He growled.  Dave's hand pressed into the small of 
her back and the plastic shovel scraped over her 
rear.

"No!" she gasped immediately, but too late.  He had 
already drawn back and snapped it hard against her 
bottom.  He followed with a flurry of stinging 
smacks that bounced off her wriggling bum.

When he stopped, Jolie realized her wiggling had 
only made the sandy predicament worse.  Her body 
was coated in the fine, white sand.  It scratched 
her breasts and into her curls and between her 
labia.  

"Well?"  Dave barked the word, tapping the plastic 
deliberately.

Jolie's bottom didn't hurt.  Plastic shovels were 
hardly implements designed to impart pain.  It took 
ten eternal seconds to find the words, but the tone 
was an utter failure.  "I'm sorry?"

Dave snorted.  "You will be when I get you to our 
room.  Or before.  You'll never get that sand out.  
We have to walk back to the hotel."

Jolie looked down as they stood, and brushed 
ineffectually at the sand clinging to him.  He 
wouldn't be able to hide his arousal.  Their 
clothes and towels were up among the hordes of 
free-thinking August vacationers, watching from 
behind dark glasses.

"How about a swim first?"  she asked, motioning to 
the sea.

He took her bottom in hand and led her toward the 
water.  "Turns out, I like the sand," he murmured.  

Jolie laughed again, but quickly smothered it.  "Me 
too," she said instead.  Cheekily.  "Gonna spank me 
for that?"

Dave laughed, squeezing.  "Of course."