<div class="floatleft">(http://z.hubpages.com/u/755492_f520.jpg)</div>Michael pulled into the driveway and shut of the engine of his blue corvette. Michael was not, obivously, hard-up for cash, but it was the summer of '63, and he felt no particular reason to make it an issue. He'd never been conventional, even when unconventional wasn't incredibly popular, and so, despite his family, and his father, he'd headed for Malibu, for sun, sand, and to figure out something to do with his time. He'd heard acting was fun, but then, he wasn't even sure where to start.<br/><br/>The house looked nice, and it was cheap. He pulled the parking brake and climbed out, heading for the front door. It was open, though that was common. It wasn't like anyone broke in the daytime, and besides, this was Malibu, there wasn't a breeze that you want to keep out when there was one at all.<br/><br/>He walked upstairs, looking around with a bit of wonder. He'd never really lived in a house by the beach, and it seemed like the kind of life he could get used to.<br/><br/>He finally rounded the doorway of one of the bedrooms only to be presented with the image of a very naked girl, lying out on the balcony.<br/><br/>"You must be Abby," he said, leaning against the doorframe, "Michael" he added, referring to himself.