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He stocked the tiny kitchen with fresh vegetables, brewed herbal tea so he could sip hot cups of it on the breezy steps outside while he read long, earnest letters with Nevada postmarks, got up at seven-thirty each morning to make a lunch of boiled eggs, tuna salad, and grapefruit for the beach.

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A boy was sitting next to the seat in the tower—the snack bar cashier whose father had once dated Farrah Fawcett in high school.

She was still sleeping; her blonde hair fell back from her forehead and spilled across the white towel like spun gold. Or Is He? Can I ask you something? He had to put North hollywood or escorts backpage a jacket and tie to meet out-of-town clients.

You have to concentrate on the water and the victims. The pavilion looked like a toothpick, and the people scrambling around on the beach were dots of red and blue. Mike climbed up the tower while Jim went to see for himself what all the fuss was about. She wore a bikini with a bright flower pattern, and her yellow hair was flying in the wind behind her.

We almost made it yesterday, but a shrimper was coming right at us and we had to head back. At nine a head popped in at the doorway to the trailer.

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By Sean O'Neal. Two years before, on his first weekend as a lifeguard at Bob Hall Pier, Jim had been stationed atop the bathhouse, sipping a Coke.

On the beach, a lifeguard is transformed—he seems to have a magical aura of immortality. But instead he merely stood in awe, not twenty feet above her, gazing at her golden, unashamed beauty.

Portuguese men-of-war had been washing up all day, faster than the guards could pop them, bury them, or drop them carefully into trash cans.

Mike looked longingly at the blue water. Address.

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Pearson told them a citation would be waiting for the shrimper when it pulled into port.

The group, nervous, wondered if she might possibly have floated out to sea.

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By Christian Wallace. After trading lifeguard stories for a while, Mike asked Brice if he wanted to go out in the water with him—way out.

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Texas Monthly. Jim was thinking of going out to check on them when one of them went under. The boat slipped past the surfers and revved up again, but it was caught in the waves breaking over the second sandbar and scraped bottom.

Then he turned and walked under the pavilion toward his car in the sunbaked parking lot beyond it.

He could see shiny Horny old women search hot singles jumping in the net, and so could a hundred seagulls who were keeping pace with the boat and swooping down for the easy prey.

The county beach has a thin stretch of hard-packed brown sand usually populated by locals who tend to make more noise, drink more beer, and cause more trouble than the tourists and families who predominate at Malaquite.

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She was sitting up now, awake, about fifteen yards away, facing the beach.

B y midsummer, things at the beach had fallen into place. He was about 26, he wore a pair of corduroy OP shorts, and he wanted to know if a lifeguard named Dennis Ramos was working at Malaquite this summer.

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He and Andy had both swallowed mouthfuls of salt water, which burned in their throats, but still they swam out, going from the crawl to the breaststroke and back again, until they passed the waves and reached deep water that chilled like ice around their ankles. He could be stowing everything in the trailer now, getting ready to go home, but the two boys in the water were keeping him up there, reminding him of something from the past.

He blew another breath into the nostrils, watched the chest rise, pushed the stomach more firmly this time, and the boy vomited a lot of salt water, then wheezed and coughed. Doug had finally moved out of the first aid trailer and into a ramshackle, unair-conditioned garage apartment in Flour Bluff.

The current pounded the boat back. We have left it as it was originally published, without updating, to maintain a clear historical record. And then he saw her. At nineteen, Jim Matthews was a veteran Padre Island lifeguard. He figured it was just from getting older. Hey, we swim that close in. The engine was open full throttle now; the boat moved over swells only to be knocked back by waves until its stern smacked down on the first sandbar.

They were becoming old salts—beach guards. By Forrest Wilder. Jim jumped down to the beach, grabbed the rescue surfboard leaning against the bathhouse, and ran toward the water. Mike and Jim had just finished treating a naked, screaming 2-year-old for sea lice stings when they stepped out of the trailer to talk to a guy who was leaning against a cement pylon.

Two miles? And so I just left. When Jim came back with reverent close-up reports, Latina massage new lorain knew he had to go back for a closer look.

Up. See All Newsletters Privacy Policy. Close Log in. Just hello. Musical instruments were crammed in everywhere: an electric bass, a flute, a clarinet, an alto sax, a harmonica, two enormous amplifiers he used as temporary end tables.

But he felt that adulthood Diamond beauty spa decatur its responsibilities were creeping up on him, smothering the fun in his life.

Long Re. Sort By. Filter By Locations. She ran into the water, waded out until it was up to her waist, and swam around like a seal, rinsing the sand from her skin, diving into a wave to wet her hair.

When Jim and the two kids got to the beach they had to elbow through to get to the ambulance—one was stationed at the beach every holiday weekend—until a deputy sheriff yelled through a loudspeaker for the crowd to back off, and soon the ambulance was zooming away toward Corpus Christi.

How old is she? She paled, she paled. This was Venus, Aphrodite, the goddess of light. I t can happen anytime. The sound of the waves seemed to grow louder as the noise of the beachgoers diminished.

He was Doug could already anticipate his regret at leaving Malaquite behind. Jim picked up the binoculars. She just sat there looking at me. By Peter Holley. Doug said he used to be a romantic, used Jamaica girls bar have a lot of dreams and hopes, but that was all gone now.

The jellyfish resembled a misshapen blue 18 escort league city with a mass of dark, curly tentacles dangling from its underside.

He had no one to back him up, no one to point choice girls out to, no one to share responsibility with. Jim and Doug ed a health spa in Corpus, where they lifted weights a few nights a week.

By Emily McCullar. Leave them blank to get ed up. This would be the best sight of the summer, better even than the time he and Jim paddled out past the third sandbar on the rescue boards and swam right into a school of jumping, playful porpoises.

And since life can be tough in general, lifeguarding makes you ready for it.

The two other guards were trying to control the crowd, to keep gawkers at a distance.

Doug spotted the boat first. By Russell Gold. By Jack Herrera.

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Mike and Andy shot back toward shore, slowing down a few seconds later when they realized how tired they were—their arms felt like melted butter in the cold surf.

How wide was that stripe of blue water?

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Doug stood up in the tower and trained the binoculars on the boat—it was riding with one of its two nets in the water. Suntan lotion and paperback books—probably D.

This was no fifteen-year-old Methodist soprano. The kid came up from a swell, gasping, and Jim watched anxiously to see if Backpage girls in frisco was just fooling around.

In those big-budget days five lifeguards worked the beach under the supervision of Ranger Joe Sewell, who would come to Malaquite on hot summer mornings to blow whistles while he ran the guards up and down the beach, sending them out in the surf to slosh through knee-deep water.

That stuff was all behind him, thank God. Doug came by to stow the torpedo buoys, Mike was making one last pass down the beach, and Jim was sitting on top of the lifeguard tower, Hotel escorts ottawa the girls in the water through the heavy binoculars.

And it can happen very fast. Doug looked up and down the beach. Then it continued, dark blue and smooth, to the horizon, where Doug counted eleven offshore rigs jutting up like whiskers before the clouds.

E ven though it was after five-thirty on a Wednesday afternoon and the crowd had thinned to just a couple of dozen families, Jim was in the tower paying attention.

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He brushed a bit of sand from his knee, away from the boomerang-shaped scar left over from his football career at Richard King High School in Corpus. He went under again without shouting. His catamaran was just outside his door. A kid is towing his raft out toward surf, skipping on his toes across the hard, sandy floor of the Gulf, and just before he reaches the safety of a sandbar, a four-foot wave rolls over him and shoves his raft away, sucking him back in the undertow and filling his mouth with salt water.

Then he picked up the heavy glasses and went back to watching the kids in the waves. Jim got under a shower to rinse the vomit off himself and climbed back up on the bathhouse to finish his shift. The three guards at Malaquite approach danger differently: Doug keeps a cool head, plays it by the book, and Mike coasts confidently along, ready to solve anything Lesbian sextails easily as he kayaks rapids in the Guadalupe or scales rocky hillsides in Colorado, but for Jim the sea is a constantly threatening force of evil, something to fear.

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He told Doug that the surf rolls over three sandbars on its Jewish singles port macquarie up to the beach: a shallow one 25 yards offshore, one about five feet deep 50 yards out, and another nearly yards out that is usually six or seven feet deep.

Half an hour earlier, a couple had come looking for their sixteen-year-old son.

You must be the guy from Nevada. At Malaquite, there were no brawls or bikers or roving gangs of switchblade-wielding punks. They had money and they lived fast, and Mike was moving in their lane. A beach guard causes a commotion only when someone is drowning or being eaten by sharks.

He was there to ogle the girls getting tans on the sizzling sand, and before Mike sat down the kid had hungrily pointed out half a dozen especially nice ones.

He remembered all this vividly and had come close to going through it again several times, so he felt relief when the two kids finally came ashore that Wednesday.

He licked his lips and tasted salt. A Saturday, hot and busy. It was coming down from the north, a shrimper, riding fast and close to the shore between the second and third sandbars.

View. Malaquite has a long, wide stretch of clean white sand leading down to the water.

M ike was having trouble being twenty. They all looked back at the beach. As he walked, he kept looking over his shoulder, as if he had lost something back there on the beach. They were down in the water, arms out on their boards, treading water out of fear or maybe just curiosity.

Doug leaned back to pick up the binoculars and climbed onto the roof of the tower to sit on the edge a dozen feet in the air. Around him were several teenagers, all wearing white T-shirts, all resplendently sunburned. Sometimes a covey of nubile teenagers will lie down near the tower, stretching out on their backs in a long row that calls to mind the idle battleships lined up innocently at Pearl Harbor.

But for the guards, a naked woman on Padre had been just an abstract idea until now.

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He had just graduated from high school, Adult personal ads graz gotten his lifesaving certification only months before, and had been told by the other lifeguards to expect a slow, boring job.

Mike heard his heart beat. Working the beach alone makes the job scarier. First Name. By Will McCarthy. Three hundred yards away, their images wavering dreamily in the sunbaked air, the two teenagers were walking up the beach together, holding hands. All the guards together were expected to make only a handful of rescues all summer.

His heart was pounding with amazement and the fear that she would see him. The lifeguard shack was destroyed, one of the two towers was washed back into the dunes, and Brice never worked as a lifeguard again.

But they had all gotten along well, and soon Doug established a routine: get to the beach at nine, do lifeguard drills, run a mile down the beach to the wood post barriers and swim back north against the current, divide up duties and trade them off throughout each day to keep everybody alert and happy.

Come on! The blue water was straight ahead, almost close enough to touch. Brice Pennington first worked Malaquite in the summer ofright after graduating from W. Ray in Corpus. Park ranger Charles Pearson, who worked out of the ranger station a mile up the island and had supervised Malaquite lifeguards sincehad made Doug the head lifeguard because of his experience and history with the park service, and for the first Sex party halesowen days Doug had been apprehensive about coming out of the deserts of Nevada to order these two Padre Island boys around.

Brice sat up on the surfboard and yelled at Mike and Andy to grab hold. They walk down to the beach in sundresses or T-shirts and short shorts, with their sultry, slinky limbs and their long, wavy golden hair, and unwrap themselves to reveal cute, brown bodies.

He spent three fourths of his time behind a desk bathed in fluorescent light. She had no tan lines. Recommended Business. His eyes were closed, his jaw was clenched shut, and his lips were a deathly blue.

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Working Malaquite had become as simple as breathing: each day, each crowd, each situation was different, but that was part of the routine, too.

By Dina Gachman. I tried to say it, but it got caught in my throat. We used to work this beach together.

Lifeguarding was reduced to its purest level here: the only enemy was the sea and what the sea kept hidden, and it was a beautiful enemy, cool and fast and rushing white where it broke over the bars, smelling of salt and fish and life.

By Joe Levin. He pretended to be a nature lover Cook islands married sex the dunes, and he slowly glanced to his left, toward the girl.

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He was by nature a freewheeling, devil-may-care guy, and his relationship with Della and a rapidly encroaching career were making him nervous. Last Name. He had arrived in Corpus Christi three days before, with most of his possessions stuffed in the back of a Toyota pickup with Nevada plates, and he had immediately driven over the causeway to Padre Island and then twenty miles south to Malaquite Beach on the Padre Island National Seashore.

The guards moved with ease and boredom. The six-foot-tall brunette with the one-piece suit slit down the front to the waist? If you fill out the first name, last name, or agree to terms fields, you will NOT be added to the newsletter list.

Jim never heard about the kid again, except for a news item on TV that night that said there had been two near drownings on Padre Island that day. By Ryan Krogh. His Sexy maid tamworth shot open and stared at the sky, the pupils reacting to light.

People can either be too stupid or too smart to do this, but if you can master it, the job can make you mentally tough.

But finally he gave it up. He was getting a little scared, too. The rest of your energies can be spent watching half-naked girls on the sand.

Especially on days like today, when he had been working all by himself while Mike and Doug took the day off. The waves were rough as Jim crossed the bar; when two in a row broke right on top of him, he pushed his face into the fiberglass and held on tight, riding them out.

To his surprise, the kid obeyed. Jim looked toward the dunes. He kept wheezing, so Jim backed off to let him breathe on his own. After several agonizing minutes—all of them gleefully taken in by the lifeguards and the shrimp boat survivors on the beach—it finally freed itself and went out a respectable distance before heading south down the island.

Mike, Jim, and Doug had developed a routine, a sometime car pool, and a shared wonder at how time was breezing by. Search Texas Monthly Being Texan. Doug kept a pile of Music bbw sex shells outside his door to toss at them when their barking Hot placentia women him up.

He looked at the clock back by the trailer: Miller time. He was lying on a flat, hard mattress, a roof stretched ten inches above his face, and from outside came the sound of rolling waves and crying seagulls. The wind was blowing a fine layer of sand across her oiled skin.

Lifeguards tell stories about working a long, boring shift only to encounter, just before climbing down and going home, a panicky moment of danger. Jim, who spent most of his evenings with Laura, watching TV at her house or going dancing, was being cool toward Mike one day late in July after Mike had committed just such an infraction.

The fifteen-year-old Christie Brinkley look-alike in the burgundy sarong? People fear unseen things in the surf and find the presence of a lifeguard reassuring.

If the wind is down and the water is calm, the waves might be just one foot high, but when gusts blow in the afternoon they can curl over at four feet or higher—safe for swimmers, but pretty slim pickings for surfers.

W histles Orange teen gallery T-shirts may make them all look alike, but in reality there are three kinds of lifeguards: those who work at private swimming pools country clubs, hotelsthose who work at public swimming pools, and those who guard the surf.

The dispatcher was talking to a park ranger who had just ticketed a man for urinating right in front of the ranger station. The jaw stayed shut. Andy Ashmore, a fifteen-year-old competition swimmer who rented floats in the pavilion, was going out with him, and Mike was going to tow New hull gfe escorts torpedo buoy behind him in case they got in trouble.

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Then Doug spotted the surfers, three teenagers who now were out past the second sandbar one hundred yards south of the tower, right in the path of the boat.

Doug walked down to the water, felt it rush up and slosh between his toes, felt the wind blowing cool and clean off the Gulf, felt exhilarated. He was too busy to get out there Bambi killeen shemale much as he wanted.

Jim climbed onto the roof of the tower and scanned the north beach to see if this was only a coincidence. The girl was running out of the dunes and toward the water.

It was late in the evening and Malaquite was nearly deserted. The pilot turned it straight out to sea and tried again, but a series of three- and four-foot waves knocked it back off the second sandbar, freeing it Girls from corpus christi shore naked sending it perilously close to grounding.

Jim stood up. He cut his engines and drifted to a stop, turning his Girls from corpus christi shore naked out to sea.

He and his six associates were referees as much as lifeguards. Like Doug, Jim was starting his first day at Malaquite Beach. About 75 feet away, in a low spot between the dunes, she was lying on her back on a huge white towel, naked and asleep.

Weeks may go by without a serious incident, but the guards can never let up, never take their eyes off the people in the surf, because it can happen anytime. Swimmers in public pools are less familiar with the environment, but for the most part they are screaming, splashing kids who ignore the lifeguard anyway.

Jim was an Air Force brat who had lived in Corpus since In another age, he might have been affectionately called a big lug or a palooka.

Almost, but not quite. Brice held his towel over his shoulder and watched them from outside the trailer for a while. By Texas Monthly. Then she got out and walked down toward the south beach. As Mike walked toward the dunes, he felt the invigorating rush of destiny, of history about to take place.

Nothing would come out. They went down to the beach before their shifts to help park-service naturalists release endangered ridley sea turtles.

Nobody thanked him. Any closer than that and they risk being battered to splinters on the sandbars.

He took his last music class at the University Sexy stevenage bar girls Nevada—Las Vegas, said good-bye Skokie young girl his girlfriend, and drove to Texas.

The only bad thing about Malaquite is its status as a tourist and family beach.

He had spent the summer of guarding the beaches of Lake Mead, Nevada, a national park area nestled against the lake that sprang up with the construction of Hoover Dam.

Lake Mead was a pain. From the September Issue Subscribe. A lot of the beachgoers there were rowdy drunks from Vegas coming out to raise hell and drown. Two summers after he last sat in that tower, Brice was now an executive for an import-export company in Corpus.

After Brice graduated from Southwest Texas State, he still came back each year to help finance his M. He worked his last summer inuntil August 9, when Hurricane Allen blew in, putting an end to Malaquite for that season.

The three lifeguards went over their schedules and worked out shifts for the rest of the day—rotations from the single lifeguard tower in front of the pavilion to the first aid trailer to the task of roving up and down the beach, torpedo buoy in hand, looking for trouble.

Up in his steel lifeguard tower at Lake Mead, where temperatures could reach degrees and the desert wind coming off the lake could dry-roast a man, Doug used to dream about working a beach with surf, waves, and an ocean wind.

On the beach, a lifeguard is transformed. Mike walked back to the tower, glancing at his Aquadive watch to check the time left on his shift.

Mike radioed the dispatcher at the ranger station and told her about the incident.

From the tower, the deeper blue water of the Gulf seemed even farther out—perhaps a mile, perhaps just half a mile. Life was tough for Doug in Flour Bluff, a wind-bleached stretch of motels, seafood restaurants, and hardtack neighborhoods between Corpus and the island.

Brice stayed behind to catch a few waves as long as he was already out. Doug, looking through the binoculars two hundred yards away, could hear the crump of ship against sand. There were two kids, about fifteen or sixteen years old, out beyond the second sandbar, splashing around playfully—but maybe not so playfully.

And so, especially for Doug, the job Hooker women wanting live sex cam something they could do without even thinking about it.

A person could soft-shoe on the floor of the first aid trailer, so much meat tenderizer had been shaken out during the day. Doug made the Topeka oriental massage of what he had. Ranger Pearson had told them about finding a lot of women sunbathing in the nude over the years.

Later, Brice stood dripping outside the first aid trailer, listening to the steady rush of the surf, feeling the wind in his face on his first day at Malaquite all summer. And the six-foot-tall brunette? And beyond the horizon lay Cuba and the Caribbean and the Florida Keys. The nearest person on the beach was yards away.

When the water reached his waist he lay out on the board, curled his toes behind the end, and shot his hands back underneath the board, holding his head up to aim at the kid, who was floating face down now just beyond the second sandbar. He pointed up and down the beach.

For every near-drowning, there was a handful of fistfights, flashing switchblades, and rumbles between motorcycle gangs. He left electric fans blowing in the place all day to keep the temperature bearable. None of the guys wanted to be working the Huntsville prison pool in Keeping up the image.

By Jeff Miller. Some of the language in this archival story regarding matters such as race and gender may not meet contemporary standards. This was an Austin girl. She was fifteen and was wearing a light blue bathing suit, beige sandals, and a white T-shirt.

He leaned back in his seat, put his feet up on the ladder, and watched two boys wrestle as they bobbed in the surf thirty yards offshore.

A hardball player, Sewell.