Sex Through the Zodiac

"Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light
Those days are over
You don't have to sell your body to the night
Roxanne, you don't have to wear that dress tonight
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right"
The Police
Outlandos d'Amour

Roxanne is my heroine, literally and figuratively. The year I graduated from High School, I took the summer off. This is highly unusual for me, because I've always had to work. Nearly every day that summer, I headed to 26th Street in Del Mar. I'd set up camp on the sandy beach: Red, plastic, igloo cooler, trashy book, smash ball set, beach towel and because of its multiple reclining options...grrr, I called my beach chair the cadillac chair. Between lounging in the sun, body surfing and flirting with Chip (I'm not making that up) the lifeguard, I'd engage in two-man beach volleyball. Kick your ass kind of work out.

I also brought a radio. In Del Mar, the frequency extended to L.A. and I could hear KROQ; the alternative rock station while the waves lapped at my feet. My ears were fully exposed and boy did I get turned on to bands like, Oingo Boingo, The Violent Fems, and Sting's irreverent voice when he was with The Police, belting out... Roxanne. Goose bumps. I still get goose bumps.

Anyway, the heroine in my 50K word story (today's blog title) is affectionately named Roxanne. It seems apropos that Roxanne is currently sitting on the beach; wiggling her toes in the sand, and listeing to music, much like her creator did a long time ago.

Nearing the finish line,

Neve