Hell Hath No Fury

She'd planned this weekend for months: just her and the girls on the sandy shores of paradise. It was supposed to be perfect but she'd barely stepped foot on the beach twenty minutes when her mood was completely ruined by another chauvinistic meathead. Dianne gritted her teeth as she grabbed her bag and stormed off towards the food trucks. She was so tired of running away from these creeps. She just couldn't get away from them: not at the office, not at the gym, not on the subway.

She bought a diet coke and sat down at an empty table; her free hand clutching the can of pepper spray hidden away in her purse. She almost dared another roided up asshole to try her. She felt around for her phone to dial the police before giving up without retrieving it. The asshole was probably used to wriggling his away out of trouble; why else would he be so brazen on a public beach?

Dianne found the bastard settling down under an umbrella.

'Fucking asshole.' she mouthed. She watched him for a while, debating whether or not to just go over there and mace him right there and then. The **** charge would almost be worth it.

No... it'd be too quick. The hand around her pepper spray brushed against her apartment keys. As if fate herself was setting a course for her, suddenly she knew what had to be done.

She retrieved her apartment keys with its Swiss Army knife key ring. She eyed the muscled up jerk: already dozing off under his umbrella. A surfboard stood in the sand next to him. The day was still early: he'd probably be going in the water again soon. Slowly, she abandoned the remnants of her lukewarm Coke and traipsed over to his umbrella.

She knelt unnoticed next to the sleeping hunk. Up close, he was truly a fine specimen: handsome and well-sculpted, with deep ruts and mounds of muscle. Around his waist was tight-fitting pair of trunks. Her eyes narrowed at his prominent bulge: the asshole was packing but something about its shape just looked unnatural.

She unfolded the tiny pair of scissors on her Swiss Army knife, carefully slicing halfway through the elastic waist. With any luck, it would rip and be lost in the water: poetic justice for ripping her top off.

Going through his open gym bag, she tossed his phone, wallet, Rolex, and car keys in the plastic bag he kept his clothes in before taking off with the lot, leaving the slumbering stud with nothing but lint in his empty gym bag.