Commitment - Beach Day 04: "Footprints"

Here's the final part of the Beach Day series. Hope you've enjoyed! I've got some sketches to post for the next series, where Aaron spends his weekend with his "uncles," Kwame and Connor. 😍

Miles sat in the sand near the water and admired the colors of late afternoon sky. He'd wanted to allow Aaron some time to enjoy the ocean, an activity that required either his or Calvin's supervision given that he could easily be swept away by the surf, but Aaron had quickly arrived at another idea. Sitting there with his foot in the wet sand, Miles felt three distinct pulses of movement under his foot, spaced apart perfectly like a coded knock on the door. He sighed. The squirming was, of course, Aaron, and the movement had been a signal that he wanted Miles to press down harder.

“Isn’t this is hard enough? Much more and you’ll end up with a cracked rib.”

Aaron couldn’t respond of course, flattened into the sand under Miles’ foot as he was. That’s what the signals were for: three brief struggles meant “more,” and thrashing about wildly meant that he wanted out. Miles was surprised he had agreed to go along with the idea in the first place; being underfoot was a particular fetish of Aaron’s that he wasn’t fond of indulging, not given the risk of accident and their history with close calls. But Aaron had made a convincing case: the sand was soft, they could go slowly, etc. The coded squirming came again: once, twice, and a third time.

“Alright, but just a little, and after that we should start packing up.”

Miles applied the smallest amount of pressure that he could control, and smiled when he felt Aaron’s struggles become further eclipsed by the weight of his foot. He wouldn’t deny there was a certain pleasure he took from the dominance of his role in the little game. Suddenly Aaron began to squirm in earnest, rhythmically but also not, like the contortions of a seizure. Miles almost interpreted it as a sign that Aaron wanted out when he felt a distinct spot of warmth against his sole, right at the center of the wriggling little form. He lifted his foot to find Aaron right at the center of the print he’d made in the sand, half buried and looking very satisfied.

“Wow Aaron, what is that, the third time today?”

Aaron didn’t open his eyes when he offered up his squeaky reply.

“Fuck, I love the beach.”"

Use this link to read this short story with illustrations. The password for the link can be found here.