Our Last Summer: San Diego by Storm [All]
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: onetruebabylon on 27-10-2012, 05:38:52</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Our Last Summer: San Diego by Storm [All]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>onetruebabylon</strong> on <strong>27-10-2012, 05:38:52</strong>
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				Tires slowed to a stop on white, perfectly smooth concrete. Sunlight glittered off of it, bits of quartz lighting the stone like a blanket of snow on a cold winter’s day. Yet this was no winter’s day, not anywhere around San Diego in the middle of June. Instead the red-hued Ford Fusion—not quite in the sleek, modern design that Jasper enjoyed so much—pulled across this pavement in the ninety-degree heat of a California summer. Within, the stylishly dressed, in the way of a long-sleeved and steely gray dress shirt partnered with black dress slacks, young man slipped from the now-parked vehicle with all the grace his moderately slim frame could muster—not like there was anyone around to watch.<br><br>“First one, huh,” he snickered to himself as he stood up. Of course he had been the only one here so far! The idea had been to meet sometime in the evening, get settled, and sleep—or not, as was seen fit—in order to get over that painful jet lag. Instead the Pennsylvanian was here only two hours after noon, in a shiny rental, with very little to do. “I don’t even have the keys,” he realized, having not been given one of the sets. This was part of the reason that everyone had poked fun at him for his insistence on early morning flights; he would not have been able to get in anyway! Now he sat on the hood of the Fusion, bright sunlight beating down on him, and could do nothing more than regret that he stuck to formal attire during flights. <em>Habits kill people, and this one might do me in.</em> he thought with a smile. Slowly he laid himself out on the trunk of the car, plastic wrap-around shades protecting him from the glowing orb of suffering right above him, and stared at the passing clouds that came in all sorts of fantastical shapes and sizes.<br><br>Degrees in law were thought to make someone painfully stuck-up, arrogant, and downright boring to be around. The stereotype is of painfully introverted, fat, sullen men that sweat excessively into their gold-lined and overpriced suits—a testament to the riches that many men of law acquire from those agonizingly less fortunate. Young Salazar was proud to call himself none of these things—not overweight, too sweaty, and certainly not rich. No, no, his lovely girlfriend had that last one covered. <em>That’s why she’s got the keys and I’m laid out on the hood of a car like a cooking egg—one of the sets was mailed to her. That’s what I get for taking the six-in-the-morning flight,</em> he once against cursed his habits while a smiled curled his lips.<br><br>No real reason to be frustrated, though. Even a quick glance revealed lushly gardened grounds that spoke volumes of the money that went in to renting a place this large—a place for a group of friends that had gotten their New York university on the news for a few reasons. Jasper had to wonder if it was because of how astoundingly attractive some of them were, his own Jessica coming to mind for more than a moment, or just that they group had achieved extraordinary things. There were upwards of ten of them, a large group to be sure. Not only that but they had stuck together for all of their years at the university—friends came, but they never went.<br><br>Jasper would take a bullet for anyone of them.<br><em>I’d bleed out with the damnedest grin on my face too,</em> he thought. A serpentine, almost vile grin evolved from the former, soft smile.<br><br>“No use cooking myself, I never sported a tan well,” he said to no one. Feet hit ground a moment later, his black shoes starkly contrasted against the off-white pavement, and he walked around to the front of the house. There was a long, wavy sidewalk that led down a smoothly contoured hill to the street below. They were not far into the mountains around town, and the city could be seen below, but they were high enough up that <em>It’s one hell of a view,</em> he concluded. For a moment he stood there, hands buried in his pockets, and looked out of the dark-green hills that led down to the lovely urban sprawl of the famous San Diego—it really was a beautiful city.<br><br>Mind full of the sight laid out before him, like a buffet for the eyes, he turned back around and took a good look at the stone building that made up most of the resort they were to stay at. <em>Hot damn,</em> he thought. They really had spared no expense with they picked this place, the size alone a testament to that. <em>Ten rooms, deluxe accommodations, and enough fun that we’ll all still remember this when we’re senile and can’t remember our own names,</em> he realized. The entire construct seemed to be made of the same stone as the driveway and sidewalks, lumber certainly a rare sight on this coast, and was built in the center of a grounds that could have made even the most exacting landscaper shed a tear. Bushes and trees of all sorts, accentuated by bursts of colorful flowers, seemed to run all around the building. The inner grounds were protected by a polished-black iron fence that blended well with the overall aesthetic of resort.<br><br>Quiet footsteps took him to one of the gates, one he could easily jump over. On the other side and in clear view was a sparkling pool with water hued like what one might expect around the shoes of pacific islands. “God damn, I know where I’m spending the evening,” he thought. Images of the entire group filled his mind as phantoms of his friends walked around, Jasper and maybe one or two others at the grill serving their fresh meal, as the group prepared for what might have been a life-changing vacation here on the other end of the <em>continent</em>.<br><br>It really was a staggering concept.<br><br>“Harrisburg doesn't have shit on this,” he said with a laugh. Moments later, without a slightest bit of hesitation, he hopped the fence and made his way over to one of the padded, wooden loungers that surrounded the pool. Under the comforting shade of an umbrella he got himself nice and cozy in the welcoming cushions, his entire body fatigued from going over three thousand miles from home. His only regret was that he and Jessica lived cities apart and most everyone departed from home to here for various reasons—he had been forced, by the cruelty of space-time laws, to make this trek without her. One-half of the journey had been made alone, but the other half would not. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Our Last Summer: San Diego by Storm [All]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cami</strong> on <strong>27-10-2012, 17:22:06</strong>
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				<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i1186.photobucket.com/albums/z371/CamberRaine/OurLastSummer-1.jpg)(http://i1186.photobucket.com/albums/z371/CamberRaine/199997a8-7a47-463f-970f-11507d2defbb-standard.jpg)</div></div><br><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Dylan: Arriving</strong></span><br><br><em>"I miss the life that I left behind. But when I hear the sound of the blackbirds cry...I know I left in the nick of time."</em> Crooned inside the candy blue four door Jeep. The music filled the air with a nostalgia, but a sliver of the future could be heard through the indie beat of Peter Bradley Adams. The recipient was singing along, her white blonde hair wrapping around her face and the head rest of the driver's seat, her slim fingers guiding the car as the tune flowed from her mouth in time with the stereo. The woman was clothed in turquoise, high waisted shorts. Buttons of the same color lined the sides where the waistband would hit her hips. A top with multicolored leave shapes littered the white tank top. A bright pink bra strap could be seen plainly, as the left shoulder of the shirt had slipped down, baring a tan, smooth shoulder. Brown leather sandals showed purple tipped toes, and a pair of brown aviators covered the woman's bright blue eyes.<br><br>Dylan Cooke was the woman's name, and she was beautiful. She had grown up in a fairly large city in Texas, which is where the slight twang in her sultry voice came from. Dylan's past no longer affected her, but it had put her where she was today: in a good college, majoring in a job that would make her over 100,000 a year. So, she had no complaints. In this college, she had met a group of people, she was the youngest, if not for one slightly close acquaintance.&nbsp; At twenty one years old, she had many accomplishments under her belt, and many more to come. Dylan drove the car into a long, white paved driveway. She didn't look at the resort she would be staying at for the next two weeks with her closest friends quite yet. She gathered her things from the front seat, a purse, some-now cold- chai tea, and&nbsp; her iPod from the dock. After, the anticipation was killing her. Her eyes looked up slowly, and her lip pulled between her bottom teeth before the squealed. The place was gorgeous, no doubt, and it's lush lawn and beautiful appearance had completely killed the tired, weary part of her that had come off of the plane, earlier that afternoon. <br><br>Dylan stepped out of the car, after popping the trunk. She dug around in her purse for the set of keys that had been mailed to her, there were multiple sets, and she had been lucky enough to get one for her contribution to the rental. Moving around to the back of the car, she unloaded the suitcases she had brought. Not enough clothes for two weeks, but she figured that since she was rooming with Rachel, it wouldn't really matter. The girls in the group were mostly the same size, and their coloring was much the same in most cases. All this had happened before she even noticed the other car in the driveway. A huge smile fell over her face, as she knew there was only one person who would have gotten here even remotely early. Dylan dropped all of her bags back into the car, before screaming out <strong>"JASPER!"</strong> She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, before she went looking for him. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Our Last Summer: San Diego by Storm [All]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kdyami</strong> on <strong>02-11-2012, 20:39:35</strong>
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				Greg graduated with a degree in music and that was cool but what he considered even better was being signed to a pretty decent label a couple of months before graduation. And dont forget Jessica. Jessica is the creative and artistic genius the designs any and all artwork for what Greg produces. With that in mind as soon as graduation was over Greg flies to Los Angeles to finish off the paperwork and Auditions for his band.&nbsp; Greg had arranged for Jessica to come to Los Angeles to do a shoot with the new band before they both went down to San Diego. <br><br>Renting a convertible Camero and putting Jessica's stuff in along with his bag and guitar he drove to the coast. Greg had always wanted to do this but never had the money. They drove down the coast with the top down, sea breeze in their face. "So what do you think Jess?" Greg asked, "Jasper beat everyone there as usual?" Laughing slightly and turning over control of the radio to her as they went back and forth in their usual flirty banter. 'I wonder why we've never dated' thought Greg, thinking back on how they'd met, on how he'd met all of this group. Greg smiled, he had been lucky. Not many kids from his background had a group of friends like these and he was glad to be counted among their number. <br><br>Greg finally pulls into the long driveway. "Wow!" He exclaims, "would you look at that? We get to stay here for two weeks? This is going to be awesome."&nbsp; Getting out of the car and running over to Jessica's door and opening it for her, "your resort madam," he says with a slight bow and stupid grin on his face. Helping her out of the car. "Come on let's go find out who else is here."..........
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