“Give him your shoes,” Jimmy said.
“Are they going to be here when I get back?” she
asked warily.
Both of the men laughed. Lori reluctantly handed
over her hundred and fifty dollar designer running shoes and looked up to see
Jimmy already trotting towards the shoreline. She set off after him, but he was
a good ten yards ahead of her by the time she got there.
The beach arced in a broad crescent. It looked to be
at least a mile in length, at least as far as she could see. There appeared to
be beach umbrellas far off in the distance past a slightly imposing rock jetty.
She hoped that would be the extent of their run; the sand was not particularly
soft, but it did give way under her feet as she trod along, trying to lessen
the distance between them.
She
was sweating profusely by the time she reached the jetty and understood the
shoe removal request/order when she watched Jimmy run into the water to get
around it. She glanced at the small Plage
Naturiste sign as she ran by it. Lori knew what plage meant; it was obviously a beach. But a natural beach? Aren’t they all natural?
