Bikini Beach The Brother in Law
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Bikini Beach: The New Neighbor
Elrod W
Everything about Ronald Harris screamed of power - his clothes, his facial
expression, his speech mannerisms, and his choices of words. And Ron Harris
enjoyed his power. Particularly like now, when another of his plans was coming
together. Even surrounded by construction workers and vehicles and equipment and
noise, there was no doubt that Ron Harris was the power behind it all. Even
looking silly in his Italian suit and yellow hardhat, Ron Harris was power.
The job site itself was the source of pleasure to Ron. A prime plot of land,
abutting a relatively new recreation establishment. Even though the high privacy
fence shut out the views of the neighboring property, Ron knew what it was. He
made it a point to know. And that knowledge, coupled with his plans for his job
site, were the source of his wicked grin. For Ron Harris, despite his 52 years,
his modest stature and modest appearance, was a first-class lech. Ron Harris had
learned to use his power to ogle, eye, leer at, attract, use, and eventually
discard young women. Lovely young women. The type of women that the neighboring
property advertised as its clientele. The type of women who hung out at Bikini
Beach. The money and power were a lure, dangling before the sweet and innocent
young ladies, ensnaring them in his net to be his pleasure toy for as long as
they amused him. After that? Well, what they did after he discarded them wasn't
his concern. To him, the girls were just playthings - temporary amusements to be
enjoyed and thrown away. And on his newest property, from the penthouse
apartment, he would have a great view of Bikini Beach and the young lovelies who
frequented the establishment. Fresh pickings. At least until he bored of the
scenery here and moved his lecherous ways to a new venue.
Amid all the noise, a much larger, more muscular man was shouting to make
himself heard. Though the man physically dwarfed Ron and could have crushed him
like a bug, he was also clearly subservient to Mr. Harris. Like Ron, the man
wore a hardhat. But that's where the similarities ended. This man belonged at
this job site, amidst the noise and confusion.
"Mr. Harris, we've slipped another two days," the foreman shouted again.
Ron let himself be dragged back from his fantasy. His frown told the entire
tale. The news didn't make him happy. "Further behind than last week?" His tone
was menacing.
The foreman frowned, but stubbornly held his ground. He'd dealt with Ron Harris
on many building projects, and didn't keep his job by being a sheep. "I've lost
six crew this last week alone."
Harris scowled. "Hire more. I want this project done on time. Or ahead of time."
The foreman sighed. "Skilled workers aren't easy to find. Or cheap. Not in
today's market."
Harris dismissed that thought with a wave of his hand. "Let me worry about the
money. You get the men on the job so it'll be done in time."
*****
Ron walked arrogantly to the ticket booth, and melodramatically displayed his
annoyance at having to wait in line. Finally, he was at the window, a smug
satisfied grin having settled onto his features.
"This park is for members and guests only. Do you want a guest..." The old woman
finally looked up to see Ron Harris, and stopped her canned speech. "What do you
want?"
Ron clucked and wagged his finger at the old woman. "Ah, ah! That's no way to
talk to a neighbor!" he said in a most condescending tone.
The old woman frowned. "I've still got a few angles to stop that monstrosity of
yours," she said through pursed lips.
Ron feigned surprise. "You mean you don't want me as a neighbor? Hmmm... maybe
we should talk about this in a more appropriate setting?" His distaste at having
to stand outdoors like commoner was very evident.
*****
Harris couldn't disguise his contempt for the sparsely furnished office - he
was, after all, used to far more extravagant surroundings. "I don't understand
your opposition to progress."
The old woman sat stonily in her chair, refusing to take the bait. "I'm not
opposed to progress. I am," she replied evenly, "opposed to the invasion of
privacy of my customers."
Harris smiled. That privacy was his motivation for the building in the first
place, although this old hag didn't know that. "Well, you've lost. You can't
stop my condos." He watched the old woman to see if there would be any reaction.
Then, as if he'd suddenly remembered, he continued. "Oh, by the way, your appeal
was rejected." His pleasant smile turned slowly into an evil grin. "You can't
build a higher fence around your park."
The old woman's reaction disappointed Harris. He was expecting anger. Instead,
she just looked at him evenly. "You seem to enjoy bullying people, Mr. Harris,"
she observed calmly. "The same as you enjoy preying on young ladies such as use
my park." It was her turn to watch for some reaction. But she was disappointed -
after all, Ron Harris hadn't gotten to where he was without a good poker face.
"Isn't that right, Mr. Harris? You see, I've met your type before. I know it
well." She leaned forward, leaning her elbows on the desk and steepling her
fingers. "I do not `lose', Mr. Harris. Do not make the mistake of
underestimating me."
Harris felt a momentary chill, as if someone had just peered into his very soul.
This meeting was not going the way he expected. The old bat was definitely not
intimidated - not by his wealth, nor his power, nor the city officials he
`owned'. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Ron Harris'
confidence deserted him. He rose abruptly. "We shall see who wins this one," he
said in his most menacing tone, then turned and marched out of the meager
office.
The old woman finally smiled as the door slammed shut. "Indeed we shall, Mr.
Harris."
*****
Anya hadn't worked for her grandmother for all these years without knowing that
sometimes, she did unusual tasks. Like today. Dressed in a rather skimpy bikini,
with her hips in a meager beach skirt, Anya was dressed to kill, her charms on
display for all to see. With a slightly exaggerated sway to her hips, she
sauntered over toward the construction site, toward the men on their morning
break. Instantly, as she knew would happen, all eyes were fixed on her. She
smiled pleasantly, her eyes darting across the faces until she found the one.
She sauntered up to the target, the man her grandmother had so painstakingly
identified to her. "Hi," she said in a seductive breathy voice.
The burly construction worker grinned at her. "Hi."
Anya could see the effect she was having on the poor guy. "I couldn't help
noticing you guys working so hard on this building," she said in a sexy voice as
she leaned toward the hapless man. "And it's, like, so hot outside, too."
The guy swallowed hard, still grinning. "Well, it's just a job," he said, trying
to sound humble.
Anya took a half-step closer, and began to playfully tug at the guy's shirt
lapels. "But it looks so... so sexy the way you handle all those big tools and
stuff." She wet her lips with her tongue, a slow, deliberate act designed to
destroy a man's willpower.
"Well, maam, it's nothing," the steelworker felt himself blushing even as he
felt himself getting aroused at Anya's attention.
Anya smiled coyly. "Please, call me Anya." The man was putty, Anya knew. "I was
just thinking about how hot it is out here, and how nice and cool and playful it
is over there." She wet her lips again. "And I was thinking that maybe I'd like
to see you without your shirt on." She was rubbing his chest through his shirt,
and she knew that she had him. "Maybe you could like come over for lunch and
have a quick swim with me? And talk about where you're going to take me dancing
tonight?" She set the hook.
The man's grin spread from ear to ear, and the bulge in his pants threatened to
split the jeans. "Uh, yeah..." His answer, though enthusiastic, was totally
devoid of intelligence - his pecker, thinking of seducing this lovely little
thing, was thinking for him.
Anya smiled seductively at him, and turned with a wiggle of her butt. "I'll see
you at lunch, then?" she wet her lips one more time for effect, then winked,
turned, and sauntered off. Behind her, the men stood, staring after the sexy
vixen.
*****
"What the hell kind of foreman are you, anyway?" Ron Harris was screaming, his
face red with anger.
The foreman scowled. Clearly, his patience at taking orders from this little man
was wearing thin. "I can't help it if my men walk out on me." There was more
than a hint of anger in his voice.
"You're supposed to help it!" Ron snarled. "You're the foreman, aren't you?
That's what I pay you for, isn't it?" He stabbed his finger into the chest of
the hapless foreman. "Not to run a job three months behind schedule! Not to cost
me a fortune by these stupid delays!" He stomped away in frustration, pacing to
try to collect himself. "You say it's only the single guys who are walking,
right? Running off with those bimbos from next door?" He set his jaw. "Then get
rid of the single guys. Get me a crew of married men. Get me some guys those
twats can't tempt!"
Ron Harris stalked to his limo, where his chauffeur had already opened the door
for him. He turned back toward the foreman. "You're single, aren't you?"
The foreman gulped. "Yes, Mr. Harris."
Ron nodded. "You're fired." He eased himself into his limo and began tapping his
fingers, searching to recall some fact. "Who the hell is foreman on my townhouse
project?" he demanded.
The driver was already easing the car forward. "Which one?"
Ron looked impatient, as if he'd expected the driver to read his mind. "On the
new golf course. The luxury one."
The driver was ready with an answer. "Tom Fredricks."
Mr. Harris acknowledged the driver's efficiency with the tiniest of nods. "Get
him over here now."
*****
Ron Harris' face was contorted with anger. Once again, the meeting with the old
woman was not going according to his plan. And this unnerved him. "You keep your
bimbos away from my construction crews."
The old woman feigned surprise. "Mr. Harris, I would think you could refrain
from such statements about the girls who use my establishment. That word is
so... insulting! And you really should watch your temper. It's not good for the
blood pressure, you know," she observed clinically.
Harris' face reddened until it was deep maroon. "Leave my blood pressure the
hell out of this!" he fairly screamed. "You're not going to stop me! You hear?
You can't stop me!" Suddenly, he seemed to hear his own voice, his words, and
his tone. He took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. "Your little bimbo
trick won't work any more," he finally said, his voice sounding a bit more
confident. "My crew is all married, and I've made arrangements for some of the
wives to be at the job site." His smile turned to that smug little self-
satisfied grin that made people take an instant dislike to him. "A couple of
rumors about the type of girls you have here, a generous offer from me, and," he
snapped his fingers above his head, "poof! No more girly tricks to slow down my
building." Harris stood abruptly and stomped from the office, feeling back in
control.
*****
We're on schedule, Mr. Harris," the new foreman reported. "We'll finish the
mechanicals next week." He paused when the beeping of a truck backing was too
loud to shout over. The two men watched as the semi trailer backed its load of
HVAC machinery to the crane.
"How much can you pull in the schedule?" Harris shouted. "Double shift? Triple
shift?" Harris' eyes gleamed like a hunter who has his prey in sight.
The foreman stared into space for a few minutes. "Just a rough guess, and I hope
you don't hold me to it until I can run some real schedules, but offhand, I'd
say, um, 3 or 4 weeks." He glanced at Mr. Harris, wondering what the boss was
thinking. "But it'll cost..."
Ron Harris shook his head. "You worry about the schedule. I'll worry about the
money." He looked thoughtful for a few minutes. "Three or four weeks, hmm? Okay,
do it!"
Harris spun abruptly and got in his car. Decision made. Now on to other things.
The driver immediately headed out of the job site and back toward Harris' main
office.
*****
The old woman watched, amused, as the limo pulled into her parking lot, then
swung around to park right in front of her ticket booth. The door opened, and
Ron Harris climbed out. He walked up the office warily. "What do you want?"
The old woman just looked impassively at him. "I think we could discuss business
in a more business-like setting, don't you?" She climbed out from behind her
ticket window and led him to her office.
The old woman sat impassively for several seconds, allowing Harris to become
uncomfortable. Finally, she spoke. "I thought I'd congratulate you on winning. I
see that your building will be completed next month."
Ron Harris was baffled. The old woman had been a worthy adversary, and one of
the toughest foes he'd dealt with. But now, the fire seemed to have gone out.
She was acknowledging defeat. It seemed too easy. Slowly, realization dawned on
Harris, and the smug grin returned. "So you finally came to your senses, hmmm?"
He couldn't help gloating, given the circumstances.
The old woman remained surprisingly calm in the face of her defeat and Harris'
taunts. She slowly slid a paper across the desk toward Mr. Harris.
"What's this?" he asked as he took the paper. His defenses were back up.
The old woman shrugged. "We've had our differences. I lost. Since you're going
to be a neighbor, I thought I'd let you know I don't hold a grudge."
Harris was reading the form, his jaw dropping incrementally with each line he
read. "This is..." He was incredulous. "This is a membership in Bikini Beach."
He fought hard to control himself. This was more than he could have possibly
dreamed.
The old woman nodded. "Maybe we can work a deal. Discount membership for your
condo owners in my park..."
Ron Harris' eyes narrowed. "In exchange for..."
The old woman smiled. "I'm getting tired of commuting every day." She watched as
her words sank in. "Think about it. Your condos have an added benefit, which
should help sales. I get more customers. We could both win from this."
Ron Harris thought for a second, and then smiled. "A woman after my own heart."
He laughed. "Okay, let's see what kind of deal we can come to."
The old woman nodded. "Before you sign, though, I expect that you'd like to
check out the park. Just to make sure you're getting a good deal from this."
Ron Harris should have been wary of her insistence at getting him into the park.
He should have wondered why she was so interested in his business concerns. But
he wasn't; his mind was distracted by the thought of hundreds of bikini-clad
girls in the water park, and how many of them he could get. "Sounds like a good
idea," he grinned.
*****
Ron Harris pulled on his bathing trunks, grateful that he'd spent a few minutes
each day on his treadmill. While he was a bit chubby, it could have been far
worse. He sucked in his gut, and then admired himself. Rich. Powerful. Not bad
looking. He should be able to score a couple of girls for the night. Smiling at
the possibilities, he stepped into the shower. The invigorating spray made his
dirty mind think of the massaging he'd talk some girl into giving him. He failed
to notice the faint pink mist rising around him.
Ron Harris stepped confidently out of the locker room, eager to feast his eyes
on the young beauties, and to begin scouting for a new bedroom toy. He stepped
around a corner, not paying attention to the signals his body was sending to him
- signals that things were... different. His center of gravity had altered
slightly, lower and further to the rear. His hips were a bit wider, making his
confident masculine walk seem awkward, if not downright silly in appearance. His
chest, though narrowed, was heavier in front, pulling at his back and shoulders.
And the extra weight on his chest swayed and bounced with every step.
Ron Harris stood, unaware of the changes, which were still proceeding through
his body. He gazed out over the wave pool, the large artificial beach with its
white sand and blue water and seeming acres of female flesh concealed by the
skimpiest of bikinis. Ron Harris smiled to himself as he contemplated having
some of these beauties serve his needs.
"Well?" The old woman had silently glided up beside him. "What do you think of
my park?"
Ron stood almost in awe. Behind the wave pool towered an artificial mountain,
the summit of which was the launching point for dozens of water rides. Innertube
rides, both solo and group. Water slides of all types - straight drop, slalom,
and mats. He turned his head slightly toward the old woman. "This is some park
you have here." Indeed, he was impressed, both by the clientele and by the
facility itself.
"I'd like to suggest we finish our discussions in my office. Then you can enjoy
the park without worrying about business."
Ron smiled. "That sounds perfect." He turned with the old woman and walked
toward the office building.
A couple of girls were sitting at a table, enjoying a soft drink. Ron smiled to
them as they walked past, and the girls glanced up at Ron and the old woman. As
Ron walked away, he thought he heard the strangest comments from the girls.
"Rich bitch! I bet she thinks the rules don't apply to her!" The girl's tone was
harsh in its judgment.
"Well, if you had her kind of money, you could get away with that, too. Besides,
when I'm that old, I hope my body looks as good as hers."
Ron puzzled as he heard these words - words obviously not meant for him. The old
woman wasn't rich. And her body certainly was nothing to be envious of. Between
the strange conversation he'd overheard and the stranger sensations from his
body, Ron was getting puzzled.
*****
Ron was about to sit down when the old woman stopped him. "Please turn around."
Ron frowned. This was a strange request. But he was in too good of a mood to
argue. He shrugged, feeling once again the strange sensations on his chest, and
turned.
Behind him stood a figure, wearing only a skimpy bikini bottom. Ron's eyes
widened and his mouth dropped as he stared at the brown-haired beauty. For she
was indeed a beauty. Not a drop-dead gorgeous teenage sweetie, but a true
beauty, whose looks transcended her years. Shoulder-length hair swept behind her
ears and curled under at the tips. Precise bangs hanging just above her
eyebrows. Soft green eyes. High cheekbones. Perfect little nose. Soft, full
lips. Not thin, not fat. Perfect, and colored with a browish-red lipstick. Her
skin was equally as perfect, showing none of the lines and wrinkles one would
expect. It was hard to tell - was she thirty or fifty? Ron imagined for a moment
that Helen of Troy could not have been so beautiful. And if hers was the face
that launched a thousand ships, this woman could easily cause the launch of ten
thousand.
Ron's gaze dropped. Her breasts were average sized, but very firm, showing no
signs of sag. Large dark nipples capped the lovely cones. Her waist showed not a
trace of fat nor of stretch. Had she ever had children? Ron guessed not - her
figure showed none of the ravages of childbirth. While her waist was narrow, it
was not ridiculously so. Her hips were nicely framed by the white bikini bottom,
riding high toward her waist.
Then Ron's eyes widened. Behind the mystery woman was... the old woman? How had
she gotten back there? She was...
Ron spun, and saw the old woman still behind her desk. His hand reached up
automatically to brush the hair swirling in his eyes. The long dark hair...
Ron spun back to the woman. To his horror, he saw that her hand was raised as
well, pushing hair from her eyes. And behind the woman was... a desk. And the
old woman. Ron spun back again. He saw the old woman standing behind her desk,
smiling.
"What is this?" The words barely came from his mouth before Ron realized that
they sounded... different! Softer. "That's a..." He couldn't say the word.
"A mirror." The old woman finished for him.
Ron's mouth dropped open. He stared disbelievingly at the old woman for several
seconds. Then his head lowered. Beside his face, the hair hung, plainly visible
to his eyes. But what caught Ron's attention was not the hair. It was the two
perfect nude breasts attached to his chest.
His hands shot up to touch the foreign objects. And he gasped. Even his hands!
Smaller, daintier, more feminine! And he actually felt something touching him,
even as his hands touched the breasts. Ron looked up yet again, his mouth agape.
"What have you done to me?"
The old woman smiled. "I told you I don't lose."
The bewilderment on Ron's face was unmistakable. "But how..."
"Magic." She just smiled pleasantly. "Now sit down, please." She seated herself,
and not knowing what else to do, Ron sank slowly to his chair. Even that action
seemed alien to him - his legs were now just a bit too short, and his butt
seemed an awkward cushion. The old woman got a smug grin. "I told you not to
underestimate me," she reminded Ron. "I did not build this refuge so someone
like you could intrude on my customers' privacy."
Ron's mouth was working feverishly, trying to get some words to come out.
Unfortunately for him, his brain was still trying to make sense of the entire
situation; as a result, nothing came out. "But..."
The old woman smiled. "Even as we speak, the magic continues to reweave the
fabric of reality. Who are you?"
Ron frowned, and then opened his mouth. "Ronni Harris. Everyone knows that."
"And that's short for..."
Ron tilted his head. This line of conversation was most peculiar. "Veronica."
His mouth dangled open at his own answer. That was impossible. She was ...
Veronica. She looked puzzled for a moment. "That's funny," she finally said.
"For a moment, I had this strange notion that I was someone else. That I was a
man!" She tilted her head back and laughed. "What a silly idea!"
The old woman smiled pleasantly. "Now Ronni, I really must insist that you
follow the rules. Topless sunbathing is not something I permit."
Ronni's features eased from alarm to discomfort, and finally through calmness
and then amusement. The changes were nearly done - Ronni was losing memories of
Ronald. Within moments, Ronald would never have existed, either in the world or
in Ronni's head. Ronni laughed lightly, a thoroughly pleasant and charming sound
in her new soft alto. "I suppose I should get used to your rules. After all, we
are neighbors. Besides, when the condos are finished, I'll be able to sunbathe
in my penthouse nude if I like."
The old woman laughed herself. "I really appreciate you restricting ownership to
women. It's too hard to find for young ladies."
Ronni gave her an all-knowing nod. "Don't I know it! You just wouldn't believe
what a girl has to put up with in the business world!" She leaned forward in her
chair, resting her arm on the desk in a gesture that was intimate and friendly.
"Do you realize that most men think a developer automatically must be a man?
That's why I go by Ronni."
The old woman nodded. "I've had my share of problems with men, too. They seemed
to enjoy making it difficult for me to open this park."
Ronni feigned surprise. "Well, if anyone ever gives you trouble, dear, just give
me a call! I own two or three councilmen, and I can make sure your problems are
solved right away!" She stood, and then picked up a bikini bra, which had only
recently appeared on the desk. "Well, I probably should put this on. I heard a
couple of your customers wondering if I thought I was too good to follow the
rules!" She tilted her head back and laughed as her hands tied the top behind
her back. "We can't have any of that, now, can we! Not if we're going to be
neighbors." She finished by tying the top behind her neck as if she'd done it
all her life instead of for the first time. "I've been thinking of your offer,
and it sounds good to me. Three condos in exchange for discount membership." She
walked toward the door, and then turned, silhouetting her beautiful body nicely
against the bright outdoors. "I'll get my lawyer to draft up the papers."
The door closed, and the old woman sat back in her chair. "I told you I don't
lose, Mister Harris." A broad grin crept across her face. No doubt Veronica
Harris was going to be a far better neighbor than Ronald Harris would have been.
FIN
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