I Love Dialogue from My Lifeguard by Dellani
Drew Carlson is a lifeguard with a terrible love life. Every woman he's ever dated has ended up married to one of his friends instead. Then he meets Magda Yarkowsky, a Georgian from Georgia (The country near Russia and a state just to the north of Florida) His life changes from somewhat routine to far more exciting. After the comedy club, Magda drags Drew to the deck behind the restaurant where a band is play, insisiting that he dance with her.
Drew's body sang the haunting chorus as they danced together. Her closeness made him vibrate with sublimated passion. Their hips were tantalizingly close together on the crowded dance floor. The music was slow and seductive, tingling his spine. Magda pulled his face to hers, almost touching. Her breath tickled his lips as she licked hers, her tongue agonizingly close. Despite his hunger for her, he was still irritated. Her none too subtle barbs about his intelligence and performance rankled. She might think he was a dumb blond, but now she was treating him like a boy-toy, too.
"What are you doing?" His voice was muffled, his words slurred, but his irritation was obvious.
"Dumb question. What does it look like?" Her thick, exotic accent flavored the remark. Like honey, it clung to the words.
Drew dragged her angrily from the dance floor once more, out to the grass by the small lake that bordered the restaurant property. "Why are you doing this, Magda? Why the whole seduction routine?"
She jerked her wrist out of his grasp, shoving him away. "You saved my life. Am I not allowed to thank you?"
"Most people send thank you notes or fruit baskets."
"Insufferable man! You have wanted to kiss me since you pulled me from the foam. Like a baby, I was reborn in your arms. Now I thank you for my life. Is simple, no?"
"Is not simple," he copied her accent fairly well. "Is complicated."
"How is complicated? Because of this Tina person?"
"Tammy. And yes."
"She doesn't love you."
"So you're an expert on my love life now?"
"Am an expert on women." She stalked away from him. "But you don't deny you tried to kiss me? I could feel your passion course through your body! Your lips caressed mine."
"It's called mouth to mouth resuscitation. You weren't breathing."
"My breath caught in my throat at the sight of you!"
"I was doing my job, Magda. Nothing more."
"You lying bastard! You so wanted to kiss me! Even in my semi-conscious state, I could feel your passion hard against my thigh!"
He burst out laughing, his anger totally forgotten.
"That was the rescue float, Magda. You thought that was me? I'm flattered. No wonder you wanted in my pants so badly."
"What am I supposed to think when my rescuer tries to kiss me and starts groping me?"
"It's called making an assessment. I was checking your pulse."
"Down there?" She gestured toward her inner thigh. "Where I am from, that is groping."
"Your femoral pulse is there."
"I have neck and wrist...!" She pointed to each, gesturing with her left hand in the air.
"The pulse is stronger there. Besides, you had a head injury, possibly a neck injury too. I'm not using that area."
She mutely held up her wrists, shaking them at him.
"Femoral is stronger than radial, easier to find. I was doing my job." He defended himself quietly, hands deep in his pockets.
"And the kiss?"
"I told you already."
"And when it was obvious I breathed on my own?"
Drew blushed, the blood rushing from his neck to his ears turning his bronze tan to copper. He had wanted to kiss her. Even wet and disheveled, she was beautiful, voluptuous, radiating sex.
"You admit, then. You wanted to kiss me."
"Magda, you were almost killed yesterday. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"It's not the first time," she murmured, facing away from him.
"What? You're in the habit of having near death experiences?"
"It is who I am, Drew. Is not a problem—"
"Not a problem?" He laughed, gesturing wide with his left arm. He placed his right hand on her shoulder. "Magda, for some people, that would be a huge problem."
"You deal with death too. Always. Whenever you go in the water for someone, it is a battle for life over death."
He hadn't thought of it. Shrugging, he dropped his hands to his sides, shoulders slumped. "It's what I do."
"You are also—what did you call it? Paramedic?"
"Yes. I work part time with the E.M.S."
"So, an ambulance driver." She scoffed, wanting to make light of his training.
"No. I don't drive the ambulance. I'm the guy starting the IV and making sure the patient doesn't die on the way to the hospital. You want to dis someone else's profession for awhile, Magda? Just because I work on the beach and sport a great tan doesn't make me an idiot. You may not want to believe it, but we aren't like the guys on Baywatch who flex our muscles and pick up hot chicks with fake tits and a spray tan. I saved your life and practically all you've done since is make dumb blond jokes, sex me up and argue with me. Thanks for dinner. I'm going home."
© 2017 Dellani Oakes