Sam West approached the naked girl. She sat alone on the beach, a towel underneath her, an umbrella blocked the sun’s scorching rays from tainting her perfectly pale skin. She held a paperback novel in one hand and in her other was a colorful drink.
The woman’s name was Morgana Tyson and she would only meet Sam on the nude beach.
Sam felt uneasy without his clothes on. He wasn’t ashamed of his body at all. He was well toned and well tanned along with well hung, or so he had been told. He didn’t make it a habit of looking at other guys to see how he compared. The women he’d been with never complained. In fact, he’d gotten nothing but compliments on it.
Having been complimented so, it was this that made him uneasy. He didn’t want to encourage any embarrassing situations with other beachgoers, nor did he want to distract his possible client from conducting business.
But this was the only way she would meet him. He didn’t know why, but he complied. A client was a client and the client was always right.
He could have turned her down, but his sources told him that this woman was loaded.
He stood in front of her, in all of his glory and said, “Mrs. Tyson?”
He waited for her to look up at him. Waited for her eyes to go wide when she saw his chiseled physique and his other, equally impressive asset. Normally he had to wait for them to undress him with their eyes before they responded. In this case, he wasn’t sure what would happen.
What did happen, he did not expect.
“It’s Ms. Tyson,” she said without lowering her book. She didn’t look at him at all. “Please, have a seat.”
He wasn’t about to sit on the sand in the nude. It was hard enough getting that stuff out of your crack with a bathing suit on.
When he didn’t move, she put her book down and looked up at him.
“My, you’re a handsome one,” she said in a seen-it-all-before tone. “My apologies. Here’s a towel.”
She unfolded a towel and laid it out beside her own.
He was taken aback by her apparent noninterest in his appearance. That normally didn’t happen when he took his clothes off for a woman. This one showed promise.
He sat on the towel.
“Would you like a drink?” she asked.
“A Heineken would be much appreciated,” he said.
She yelled something in Spanish and a young Mexican boy came running up to them, his penis flopping from thigh to thigh with each step. She gave him the drink order. When he returned moments later he had two Heinekens, the tops already off. He handed one to each of them.
“Cheers,” she said, offering her bottle for him to clink.
“Cheers,” Sam said.
After a few moments of silence, Sam said, “Ma’am, what is it you need from me and why did we have to meet here?”
“Ah, a little embarrassed are we?” she asked, cracking a smile. “Don’t worry, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve seen bigger, but not many.”
Sam wasn’t usually one to be at a loss for words, but he didn’t know how to respond to that one. It could be a compliment or a cleverly disguised insult, depending on your point of view. His point of view was that he didn’t care what she thought or said, so he said nothing.
“The reason I asked you to meet me is that someone is trying to kill me and I’m not sure who,” she said very matter of factly.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, ma’am…” he started.
“Anna,” she said, interrupting him. “My friends call me Anna.”
Sam didn’t think they had reached friend status yet, but they were hanging out naked together.
“Anna,” he began again, “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not a detective. I don’t figure things out. I’m hired muscle.”
She looked him up and down and smiled.
“I see that,” she said. “I’m not looking for someone to figure out who, I just need some protection. I’ve heard you’re the best. And the reason that I chose to meet you here is because I don’t trust anyone right now.”
Of course, if he came without clothes and no one else had clothes on, it would be harder to conceal a weapon around her. She wasn’t dumb.
“I assume you know how I conduct business?” he asked.
“I’ve heard that you don’t discuss money up front. You get paid when the job is done and the client pays what they think the job was worth.”
“That’s right,” he said.
“I don’t see how you make any money conducting business that way.”
He finished off his beer and wedged the empty bottle into the sand next to him.
“I check out my clients before I meet them. I don’t meet with them unless I know they can pay me. After the job is over, if the money isn’t adequate, I don’t do business with them or anyone connected with them anymore.”
“I see,” she said, guzzling the last of her beer as well. “Alright then, so, do I have a body guard?”
“That you do,” he said.
“When can you start?”
“I already have.”
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