It’s not until after 11pm, that Justin texts me to tell me everyone has gone to bed and he can slip out. We arrange to meet at the top of his driveway, so there’s no chance my car will wake his grandparents. Any guilty feelings I might have about the subterfuge are rendered inconsequential by my burning need to see Justin one more time.
I arrive early and wait expectantly in my car, parked at the side of the road with the lights off. Anticipation thrums through my veins. When I see his familiar figure appear as a darker shadow at the top of the driveway, a soft sigh escapes my lips and warmth floods my chest. I am so completely gone for this man.
Justin gets in the car and leans across to kiss me. Our lips play softly until our tongues have to get involved and the kiss deepens and before long the windows are starting to fog up. When eventually we break apart, I have to run the demister for a few minutes before I can drive away.
"Missed you," I tell him.
“Same. Where are we heading?” asks Justin, his lips moist and puffy.
“The beach,” I reply. “It’s sort of a repeat date.”
“Mmm,” Justin murmurs happily. His hand wanders over the console between us and finds its place on my thigh. He leaves it there for the remainder of the drive, his thumb stroking gently across my skin and teasing under the hem of my shorts.
When we arrive at the beach carpark, it’s deserted as I would expect it to be at this hour of night, at this time of year.
We get out of the car and when I retrieve the picnic rug and basket from the back of the car and an extra bag, Justin breaks into a big smile. He remembers.
Like the first time, we walk out on to the sand, only this time, we’re holding hands. I try to find the exact same spot (not really possible, of course, but near enough). Justin lays the mat out. I put the basket down.
“Trust me?” I ask.
“You know I do,” replies Justin, looking vaguely puzzled. He’s wondering, I guess, where this is going.
I pull a strip of fabric out of the basket. It’s a blindfold.
“Can I put this on you?”
He chuckles. “Sure. I guess.”
I wrap the fabric around his eyes, kiss him, and move him away from the rug so I can finish fixing things.
I start pulling things out of the basket and arranging them. I place the candles in the sand in a circle around the rug and light them. I pull out the champagne flutes and the two bottles. And the little vase. And the tiny bunch of blue forget-me-nots, which I place in the vase. And I place all of these at one end of the mat. From the bag, I pull out a fluffy white quilt and lay it over the rest of the mat, along with a couple of small cushions.
“You’re up to something,” says Justin, shifting restlessly on his feet. “I can hear you.”
The last thing of all is a small box tied up with a ribbon that I place next to the vase.
I look around at what I’ve done. It’s simple, but it’s what I was aiming for. I hope he likes it though. I also hope he doesn’t think it’s a bit… yeah, now I don’t know, maybe itischeesy, but I want him to feel special. Well, here goes.
“Ready?” I ask him.
“Yes!” he says eagerly. Too eagerly. I don’t want him disappointed.
“It’s not that exciting,” I warn him, trying to keep expectations low.
He sighs. “Whatever it is, it’s with you, so I like it already. C'mon, show me.”
I take a deep breath. Slip the blindfold off. Justin blinks as his eyes adjust.
“Oh,” he exhales as he sees the candles glowing in the sand around us. Then he looks down and sees the rest of it. His eyes widen. He steps in close to me, places his palm over my heart. His warm breath whispers over my lips, “You’re amazing.” Then his soft lips meld to mine.
After sharing a gentle kiss, I lead him to the quilt and we sit down near the collection of items. I pick up the two bottles, one in each hand.
“Your choice. Champagne or apple juice,” I show him the bottles, “but just to be clear, this time I have every intention of taking advantage of you.”
“It’s not really taking advantage if I give consent, is it?”
“Well, no, not if you’re sober when you consent.”