Sunday, September 28, 2014

Summer Sling

by Lisa Kwan

Written for: The Writer's Tower
Theme: Summer (September)
Bonus words: chewing gum, ice bucket


I stood naked on the beach, everyone staring, laughing, pointing.
Or at least it felt that way.
I don’t know how I let my idiotic friend convince me that swim briefs were the way to get chicks. “Bro, chicks dig the banana sling, bro. Easier for them to assess, if you know what I mean,” he winked at me.
That lame-ass response and wink (who still winks, between dudes no less?!?!) would have been a warning foghorn if I weren’t so desperate. And then that lying two-faced bastard had worn swim shorts.
“You….look….fabulous, bro. Real fab!” He’d greeted me, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Which didn’t last long because, in the next moment his face was buried in the hot sand as I tackled him and punched—as hard as I could—where it would hurt him the most.
He groaned so loudly, the people around us turned to look. I ignored his whimpers as I stood up and waved everyone away. What’s done is done, I thought, mentally kicking myself for not thinking to bring a spare. I dusted off the sand stuck to my exposed and embarrassingly pale thighs, self-conscious.
I heard some groups of people giggling behind me and I wished I could just die right there. “Hey, bro! Nice legs!” Snickers.
I whirled around to stare angrily at them but was too humiliated, and ended up pretending to gaze at somewhere further off in the distance. I then gave my friend, who was still doubled over in pain at my feet, another kick in the crotch area, just in case he forgot how mad I was at his prank.
At his yelp of pain, and the growing snickers and chuckles I could hear—or imagined, I had no idea at that point as I could barely lift my head from the self-consciousness—I decided I’d better buy another pair of more-decent swim shorts to change into from one of the vendors. There were plenty of stalls along the beach; I could just grab one, any one. Anything was better than what I was wearing now.
As I walked the short distance to the nearest stall, the sun was blazing hot, with not a cloud in the sky—perfect weather, really, summerlike. The beach was packed with people because of the recent school holidays. So there were plenty of school kids who had come with their parents and even grandparents for a family vacation or day-trip to the beach. Which was really great for me, you see, especially in my “banana sling”.
“See the uncle, so shame-shame one!” “Yerrrrrrr, so geli!” Eruption of giggles and laughter. Disapproving looks from the elderly. “Mei, come here. Don’t look. Not nice to stare.”
Somebody throwing an ice bucket on my head would have been less painful.

I finally reached the stall I had my eye on, which was really eye-catching because of its display of colourful floral swim shorts. They looked cheap and tacky, and I mentally cringed. But another burst of laughter from behind me made me hastily point to a bright-orange pair with white floral patterns and ask, “How much?”
The aunty tending the stall told me it was fifteen ringgit. I didn’t bother to bargain and reached down to touch the right cheek of my behind before I realized I had cleverly left my wallet in my car, where it was parked quite a distance away from where I was due to the crowds.
Obviously, I didn’t have any money on me. (Where else could I have put it?!) So I asked the aunty if she could let me change into the swim shorts first, and then I could run back real quick to my car to get the money and then run back here. She stared at me as if I had blue rubbery skin and tentacles growing out of the side of my head. (I may have been watching one too many sci-fi movies of late.)
Helpless, I turned around to find someone who would kindly lend a stranger-in-a-banana-sling fifteen ringgit to get out of this predicament. To my surprise, a ten and five dollar note were held out to me—in hands belonging to a…chick. No, a babe.
She was pretty, tanned with short hair, a pixie do. Though I preferred my chicks long-haired and fair, she had this aura about her, like she was cool and bad-ass. Maybe because she was furiously chewing gum.
Or because she had a snake tattoo snaking from her mid-belly down to…wherever is behind her bikini bottom.
I—uh—noticed that she was wearing a frilly bright-orange bikini and a smoking hot body. Slim and slender and taut. Wouldn’t I love to pour something hot and sticky all over her and slowly lick it off her—
“Here,” she said simply. I blanched. She pushed the notes into my hand. “Get the bright-orange pair,” she urged. “Then we’d match,” she winked and then crossed her arms beneath her bikini top, accentuating her well-endowed bosom and deep cleavage.
I visibly gulped. “I-I-I—”
“Or maybe,” she looked me up and down, pausing at my banana sling, “you could just keep what you’re wearing right now.” She leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “I think you look delicious,” and stuck her tongue in it!
WHAT. THE. HELL.
Okay, I don’t know how often things like these happen, especially outside of porn movies, but I’m making a wild guess here, like, hm, I don’t know, NEVER?
And when a chick, no, babe like that tells you to keep your banana sling on, YOU DO IT.
“Okay.” I managed to sound mildly indifferent despite me playing “We are the Champions” in my head and thinking I must be making some kind of history for all men worldwide. In my mind, my friend was giving me a standing ovation and slow-clapping.
She nodded her approval and slipped her arms around me to cup my…rear. Gave it a little squeeze. I gasped and held my breath. I had to be dreaming, I had to. But, oh god, please don’t let me wake up now!
“Let’s go…hang out somewhere, shall we?” She batted her eyelashes and licked her lips. “Okay,” I said again, cementing my one-word vocabulary abilities.
And let me tell you, what happened after that, made it the BEST day of my life! I had to treat my bastard of a friend to dinner because he claimed that that babe would never have approached me were it not for the banana sling he had tricked me into wearing.
Honestly, I cannot deny it. Cost me a couple of hundred bucks, that dinner. But bros, I am now a firm believer, and I hope you will be too, that swim briefs are the way to go. Chicks dig the banana sling. Easier for them to assess, if you know what I mean.

(C) COPYRIGHT OF LISA KWAN 2014

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