A little story I had to write for a literature class while I was at High School, based on Tim Winton's A Minimum of Two.  We had to choose one of the topics and write the story.  This story depicts the first meeting of Jerra and Rachel, two of the book's main characters.  I was pleased with the result -- and got an A!  I do hope you enjoy it. The only sound the young man could hear was the soft whirr of the car engine as he drove.  He knew where he was going -- Scarborough Beach.  He often went there to escape ... well, everything.  He could play his guitar there in peace.  He loved his music.  He wrote songs.  Probably nobody would ever sing them, but he loved them anyway. As he rounded a corner, the white, sandy dunes of Scarborough Beach came into view and the young man sighed softly.  He loved this place.  He drove into a park and turned off the engine.  Jumping out of the car, he grabbed his old guitar from the back seat and strode across the white, grainy sand, enjoying the way it crunched under his heavy boots.  He glanced at the marks his feet had made in the perfect sand before settling himself down near the water's edge.  He watched the calm turquoise water lapping at the childrens' feet as they waded and listened to their squeals of delight as their feet got wet.  Then he took out his guitar and strummed a few notes, his white fingers knowing exactly what they were doing as he played.  Closing his eyes, he kept playing.  He could almost touch the stars. Soon, he was aware of someone sitting near him.  Opening one eye, he regarded the young woman who'd taken a position near him.  She was sunbathing on her towel in a red bikini.  He allowed his eyes to run down the curves of her body -- her nose, mouth, breasts ... one of her hands was resting on her flat belly.  Noticing he'd stopped playing, she opened her eyes and sat up on one elbow. "Don't stop." she said.  The young man noticed her voice was slightly husky and wondered briefly what his songs would sound like sung by her.  Probably good.  She was beautiful too, this young woman -- he could see that now he was looking at her properly.  She had tanned, clear skin and the light from the sun caught her dark hair. "Don't stop." she said again. "What's your name?" the young man asked her. "Rachel.  Yours?" "Jerra." "You play a lot?"  She motioned a brown hand towards his guitar.  Jerra nodded. "Yeah.  All the time.  It's a ... hobby." "And you write your own music?"  Again, Jerra nodded. "Yeah."  Rachel nodded and closed her eyes again. "Play something else?" she murmured, half-asleep. "Alright."  He was quite happy to oblige and plucked out another short tune.  As he glanced at Rachel, he saw a smile playing on the corners of her mouth.  She knew he was watching her.  When he finished, Rachel stood up, and Jerra could see that she was tall too.       "Wanna go for a swim?" she asked, placing one hand on a slim hip.  Want to go for a swim?  Hell, he'd do anything to be able to stay with her a little longer. "Sure," was all he said, "But let me put this thing in the car first."  Rachel shrugged and followed him over to the car.  As he bent over to put the guitar on the back seat, he felt a short, sharp whack to his backside.  Straightening, he turned to see Rachel grinning from ear to ear, showing perfect white teeth.  He grinned back at her, and started chasing her playfully around the car.  Suddenly she changed course and headed for the water.  She beckoned to him with a long finger and he followed like a little puppy. She splashed him, and the light spray cooled his face against the hot afternoon sun.  Then he splashed her, a little clumsily, perhaps, but she just laughed and splashed him right back.  Jerra was aware that he was acting like a child that day, but he didn't care.  He just had to be with her.  She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen -- when she smiled it sent a shiver down his spine.  He'd never known anyone quite like her. As the afternoon sun dipped below the horizon, Rachel and Jerra sat in a cafe, a parcel of chips between them.  They weren't really doing anything in particular ... just sitting.  He hadn't taken his eyes off her.  It was Rachel who finally broke the silence. "I should probably get going ... " "Won't you stay a little longer?"  He almost pleaded with her, but she shook her dark head. "Sorry, Jerra." "Then ... at least let me drive you home?"  But again Rachel shook her head. "I'll be fine." she assured him.  But she did walk to his car with him.  Jerra started the car and Rachel's perfect figure was illuminated by the bright headlights.  Shading her eyes from the glare with one hand, she raised the other and waved goodbye.  Jerra watched her silhouette growing smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror until finally he could see her no more and sighed softly.  He'd felt something that day with Rachel that he'd never experienced before -- ever -- with anyone. Once he got home that night, while he was undressing and showering, Jerra couldn't get her out of his head.  He fell into bed that night with Rachel's laughter ringing in his ears like music, and he could hear her voice as if she was right there with him.  It was like the songs he wrote sometimes -- once he got them stuck in his head he simply couldn't get them out.  It was this way now with Rachel.  He knew at that moment that he'd have to see her again.  Someday.