The Beach

It was just past 9 AM when Missy, Lisa, and Phoebe made their way to the beach. "It's too cold for the beach," protested Phoebe.

"It's a fucking heatwave, bitch. It'll be 75 by noon," stated Missy. These were the Bitches of the Beach, Valley Girls who everyone loved or loved to hate.

They weren't the first there. There were some surfers, some stupid kids in the distance, and some old couple. The Bitches ignored them as they picked a good spot just beyond the tide. All three removed their tops, topless tanning being legalized and very fashionable these days, and laid down to catch some rays.

A shadow fell across Missy, and she sneered without looking, expecting some stupid pervert to be leering at her. "You're in my sun, creep."

"I'm about to be in more than that," I say, as I bend down and rip off her bikini bottoms. Some enlisted surfers hold down the other two girls and begin fucking them on my order. "Oh, God, it's that guy," said Lisa, before getting her mouth full of sausage.

Understanding what guy Lisa was talking about, Missy spread her legs willingly and actually helped give me some enjoyable beach sex. Not necessarily the Valley Girl **** I had been expecting, but a fun start to the day. After the romp, I passed the old couple, and told the elderly man to go get his dick wet. He leaped for joy, and took his wife with him to take my place in Missy's orifice.

I waltzed into Reeves Manor, twirling the three ripped bikini bottoms and saw my lovely nymph sunning au naturel on the patio. "How was the beach?"

"Fucked an airhead. How's your mom?"

"She's probably waking up with a hangover by now. I had Winters lock her in the wine cellar."

I grabbed the nearest porthole - these things were everywhere and I guess they read your eyes and plop up personal settings and history and icons - and try once again to "port-call" my mom. Kinda like Facetime. There weren't numbers, per se, but it should connect to whatever porthole was nearest my mother. Nothing happened.

"I can't get this fucking thing to work," I complained to Megan." She slid over and teased me. "Let me show you, grandpa." I guess I was a grandfather now. Several dozen times over.

I watched with a sense of satisfaction as Megan failed to reach her grandmother on the port-call. "She must be asleep." I frowned when I realized it was close to 10 AM.

"Maybe the leap day is throwing things out of whack. Four years ago, every porthole went down because it couldn't process leap days. Maybe that's happening again."

"Your technology sucks," I stuck out my tongue at Megan's idiotic explanation. My iPhone could handle Leap Days, I think, so why not these portholes? Regardless, February 29th was a day that shouldn't exist, and I decided to treat it as a day off. I could swing by mom's house tomorrow.

I rested my eyes for but a moment, when someone was in my own sun. "Mr. Doe," said a man to rival Dr. Behan in stature. "Yes?" I said, curious if this was important or just a fan. Also, how did he find me? He reached into his coat pocket and I did my own Leap Day leap in order to get out of there. Maybe Megan can suck him off as a distraction.

But my fears went to naught when he pulled out a stack of paper, actual paper from his pocket. "You've just been served."

I looked down at the legalese and frowned. "The fuck is this?"

The process server was smart enough to get the hell out of earshot when dealing with an EDP. I sighed and looked the papers over.