Mother and son…. “Donny! Grab the sunscreen from the glove compartment, would you?” hailed Vicky from across the beachside carpark as she jogged in pain across the hot and sticky tarmac, desperate to reach the soothing patch of grass a few bounds ahead.
“You got my towel mom?!” yelled Donny in response, squeezing the glove compartment button, dropping open its door with a violent thud. The bottle of sunscreen tucked away amongst the neglected miscellanea contained within the compartment felt disturbingly warm and soft to the touch, as though it had just been microwaved; such was the searing heat of the day.
“Got it Don!” answered Vicky, making her final stride across the empty carpark. Breathing a sigh of relief, Vicky wiggled her toes through the cool, sand-mingled grass below, exhaling deeply as the hot sting of her soles quickly abated.
Donny secured the car and began his own dash across the blistering gravel toward his mother, passing by an elderly couple who seemed mildly amused at the sight of the young man wincing and gasping as he skipped along the sun-heated surface. To the couple, he must have looked as though he were traversing hot coals at some kind of self-development seminar.
Aside from the elderly couple there was not another soul in sight. The weather was prime for a trip to the beach, but the locals favored another beach nearby. This one was secluded and frequented by few.
“Oh come on. You’ve gotta be kidding me!” cried Vicky as she shifted her knee and placed her hands on her hips contemptuously.
“What is it mom?” replied Donny curiously from an obscured vantage point behind a bush leading to the entry of the amenities block.
“The women’s changeroom is locked. Why would they lock it on the weekend?” complained Vicky, now raising her arms to further express her indignation toward some unknown oppressor, responsible for the current inconvenience.
“I dunno mom, maybe there’s a problem inside? Hardly anyone comes here anyway. Just use the men’s room. I’ll scout it out to make sure there’s no creeps in there!” replied Donny playfully before tossing the gooey bottle of sunscreen to his mother.
“Alright…just let me know if it’s clear in there,” replied a concerned Vicky.
Donny had a quick peep inside and found the changeroom apparently vacant. “Coast is clear mom!” his voice reverberating loudly against the walls of the dingy changeroom. The floors and walls were grimey and the air was far from pleasant.
“I’m coming in Don, okay?” Vicky peeked her head around the entry tentatively before making her way in. She scanned the room, half expecting an old lecher to pop out of one of the stalls with his wrinkly privates dangling all about.
“It’s fine mom. No one’s here. Just come and get changed,” said Donny reassuringly as he nudged his shoulder against the nearest changeroom stall. The door didn’t give. He gave it a firmer shove, but to no avail.
“Damn thing is stuck,” said Donny as he reached for the door of the remaining stall to the right.
“Chuck me the backpack. I’ll change first,” requested Donny as he took a step into the open stall. Vicky slipped her arms out of the backpack and prepared to toss it to her son, but she came to a halt when her ear caught the echo of voices coming from the entry.
“Shit! There’s some guys coming in,” whispered Vicky with a look of panic on her face. “Quick, quick, hide in there! Hide in there!” ordered Vicky frantically, pushing Donny into the open stall, closing the door gently behind them. Donny shuffled back against the narrow bench inside the stall and paused as his mother locked the door.
“…you know what she’s like man. A fucking handful..,” said a deep voice emanating from the entry. Another voice laughed obnoxiously in response.
“Just let her go man. Plenty of fish in the sea,” added the second man.
“This is actually pretty fucking funny!” whispered Vicky to Donny, taking him by surprise with her language and sudden mood shift.
Vicky placed the bag gently on the bench and added, “…bet these twerps wouldn’t think there’s a mother and son hiding behind this door!”
“Mom…,” replied Donny dismissively, betraying a smirk.
BANG BANG! “What the fuck? Fucking door’s stuck,” one of the men complained before spitting on the ground nearby.
“Check the other one, dickhead,” replied the other man with sass. Vicky stifled a giggle before snapping into a tense posture when the man began to knock on their door.
“Anyone in there?!”
“Y-yess?!” mumbled Vicky, affecting a masculine tone.
“Sorry!” said the man with forced civility.
“Won’t be long!” Vicky gurgled.
“Oh my god mom! You’re unbelievable!” whispered Donny, suppressing an urge to laugh out loud.
Donny heard the man’s footsteps lead back to the other side of the room where he plonked his butt down on the bench and returned to conversation with his colleague.
A few minutes transpired with mother and son feeling like foolish children playing hide and seek, losing themselves for a few moments in the juvenile thrill of it all. All the while the two strangers seemed quite quite content to wait for the lone, accessible stall to become available to them.
“Shit. These guys are actually waiting for the stall,” whispered Vicky, now looking at her son with growing concern. “What do we do?”
“Wait ’em out I guess,” replied Donny decisively.
“Are you nearly done man?” cried one of the men impatiently as he rapped on the door again.
.
“Fuck,” murmured Vicky, gripping her son by the arms in a bid for support.
“Alright. We’ll quickly change into our swimmers and then head out. Put one towel around your body really tightly and the other one over your head as though you’re drying your hair. We’ll just walk straight out,” explained Donny, figuring he could easily distract the two men with an apology while his mom slipped out of the changeroom quickly. “I’ll keep ’em occupied. You walk out fast.”
“Just one minute,” called out Donny, attempting to mirror the timbre of his mother’s earlier manly tone.
“Shit. Okay, okay. That’ll do,” replied Vicky as her arms slid limply from her son’s side, yielding to his plan. Without further ado, Donny whipped off his t-shirt and began unfastening his belt. Vicky gazed ambivalently at her son’s hands as they wrangled with the buckle.
“Come on mom, quick!” barked Donny as the metal arm of his belt buckle sprung free of it’s restraint, sending his shorts to his ankles, exposing his white briefs.
Vicky, bemused by the sight of her son’s half-nakedness took a blink and squirmed inwardly, but quickly acquiesced in his proposition with nothing more than a sigh and a shrug. Donny glanced up to see his mother reaching behind her neck clumsily for the zipper of her dress, her hands trembling with nervous energy. She quickly gave up, spun around, and submitted to practicality.
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