This story has racked up more rejections than anything else I've written. And in spite of that I still like it: the rejections have almost entirely been along the lines of "we like it... but not enough". I like it because it came with a couple of spooky images that chilled me even as I was writing it. Please enjoy.

Peter watched Meredith swimming somewhere beyond the flags and felt contentment. The sun was sinking beyond the horizon and the evening breeze felt good against his skin after the heat of the day.

They had arrived at the beach early and found a dune that promised shade in the afternoon. It stood on a secluded part of the beach, but Meredith hadn’t objected. The cooler, packed with ice and drinks, was wedged into the sand beneath their umbrella, the picnic basket beside it. Their towels were laid comfortably on the sand. Cooler and basket were now both mostly empty. Peter and Meredith were full and content from their day in the sun.

But earlier there had been a problem: two young men had come and set themselves up near their site, openly ogling Meredith. They had admired her trim figure, displayed to great effect in her barely-there two-piece bathing suit. Peter had felt almost invisible.

Meredith walked out of the water, her long legs dragging through the waves, and jogged up towards Peter.

“God, it’s fantastic in there. You should come out with me. Maybe… later?” She lay on her stomach, wiggling her bottom suggestively as she did. Peter stared at the fading sun through his sunglasses.

The two guys were gone now, of course. Meredith had pouted for a short time but he had massaged her all over with 30+, spending a long time on it, and she felt wanted again.

Then, as the afternoon had rolled on and dinnertime approached, fewer people were about to notice her. Which was when she had noticed the dog walkers. And that most of them were middle-aged -— or older —- men. So, of course, nothing would do except that she sunbathe topless. Several men had steered their dogs in their general direction but he had managed to put them back on course. But it hadn’t stopped all the glances in their -- her —- direction. One guy had thrown a ball deliberately close to them. Peter had been most annoyed at him. He’d had a beautiful dog, though: a big retriever, eager for attention. The dog had been easier to compel than the owner, but both were gone now.

Meredith lifted her head from the towel and glanced over. “Any chance of a drink?”

He flipped open the cooler, fishing about in the sloshing ice and water for a coke. He popped it open and passed it over. Without a word of thanks she tilted the can back and drank off a large swallow. Then she lay back on her elbows and watched the sunset with him.

“How about that swim?” she asked, a half-minute later.

Peter got up and ambled his way down to the water’s edge. Before he was halfway there, her footsteps thudded up behind him and she crashed into him, sending him staggering to one side.

“Gotta catch me first!”

She had taken off the other half of her swimsuit. She dived into the water. Peter ran after her and reached the sea as she resurfaced. She waved. He took a deep breath and followed her.

When he came up for air he looked around: he was further out to sea than her. Her strokes were carrying her towards him, but she was slowing, looking over her shoulder as she swam. Finally, his outstretched fingers touched her. She squealed and he folded her into his arms, feeling her body press invitingly against his even as she railed against him for catching her.

“We’ll have to swim closer to shore if you want your prize.” She flopped suddenly in his arms. “Oh dear. I seem to have lost all my strength. You’ll have to carry me in.”

Peter rolled over onto his back and sculled the water with his hands. Meredith held onto his neck and clambered on top of his body. He sank a little further beneath the water but kept his head afloat. His hands kept pushing the water.

“My big strong man,” she whispered as she settled herself on top of him.

They took a long time to reach the shore.

Walking up to their towels Meredith took his hand and tucked herself under his arm. A shock, as thrilling as electricity, quivered through Peter. They sat down on Peter’s towel and she nestled her back against his chest. Yes, he thought. It had all been worth it.

Meredith glanced out to sea, watching the reflected sunlight fade from the clouds. Somewhere, someone else would be enjoying their sunset.

“Time to go, I think,” she said, standing up and pulling on her bathing suit. She flicked her towel up off the beach and over her shoulder in one easy movement, spraying Peter with sand, and walked off towards the carpark.

Peter draped his own towel around his neck, furled the umbrella under his arm and lifted the picnic basket and cooler with each hand. He followed behind her, watching her walk towards the car.

He glanced back to where they had spent the day. The dune was almost swallowed up in the blackness. The men were not a problem, but he had felt a twinge of remorse as the dog had started swimming away from the shore. Its eagerness to please added to his own compulsion: it had soon outstripped its owner as it paddled toward the horizon. He wondered if it had caught up to the first two men yet…

He swung his gaze ahead and settled on Meredith’s back. No, he shouldn’t feel like that.

After all, Meredith was still his.