[Santo - The Beach]

[walk_ins]

[master post]

You have to walk down a ramp to get to the sand. The ramp stretches over sand dunes, with sea oats dotting them, blowing in the near-constant breeze. On the same level as the ramp: a boardwalk, dotted with places to get sketchy-looking fried food, to try your luck at a number of games of chance, to watch performers, to ride roller coasters of the future!!!!

When you walk down the ramp, it's all white sand and blue water. Down about half a mile is a pier that juts out several hundred feet.

It's a nice beach. Not too crowded.

Comments

[anythingbutblue]

"Well, once we finish our little snack," she tells him, perfectly willing to drive the action, "I'll want to wait long enough to take a dip."

You can't go to the beach for what feels like the first time in forever and not actually get in the water. She plans to take full advantage of this little vacation.

His eyes don't leave her even once she's got the candy in her mouth, and she can hardly be blamed if her chin tilts up a little, if her eyes narrow slyly, if another smile quirks her lips.

It's not exactly her style to help other people do what they're capable of doing themselves, but she unwraps a second piece and this one she holds up to his mouth, nearly bumping his bottom lip with it.

"But after that, I could be willing to let you escort me to the nearest casino."

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

He's about to tell her he's not going into the water for a whole multitude of reasons -- which she can more than likely figure out for herself -- until she starts to feed him candy. There's something so indulgent about it that he lets out a low laugh, then touches the top of her hand as he eats the treat. Most of their touch-based play has taken place in private and so it's both surprising and a little bit liberating to do it in public.

Still, he's not much of an exhibitionist when he's not on stage with a saxophone in his hands and while he's not shy, he's got enough of a sense of self-preservation and privacy so he doesn't want to flash all of Santo with the... unusual components of his body.

No wet t-shirt contests for him. But he'll gladly watch if Faye wants to indulge, along with the rest of the population of the beach, he's sure. Still not letting go of her hand, he kisses the tips of her fingers -- all of them -- before swallowing the chocolate which is really good, actually, for something in a bag from a seaside food stand.

"Okay. It's a date." He kisses the tips of her fingers one more time then lets go of her hand; he needs his own hands to roll up the legs of his trousers as far as they'll go. He's more than happy to wade into the water with her, stand there while she swims, keep the towels dry on his shoulders, and keep everyone else away from her.

And after that, they can walk through the market and pick up whatever they need, then head back to their room and get ready for the casino. If he has any say in the matter they'll take their time with that, but Faye might have other ideas. And whatever she wants... he'll see to it that's exactly what she gets.