Author’s note: This started life as an exhibitionist story and although there are overtones as such, it’s really more suited for a different category. Further chapters may expound on this. First time stories of romance tend to be what I write, whether I set out to or not.
Also, I love comments, please give me some.
I was reading under a cabana on the beach at an all-inclusive Jamaican couples’ resort. I wasn’t part of a couple, at least not anymore, and had not been since two days before, the day before my boyfriend, who should have been my fiancé, and I, were supposed to fly down. I dumped him and cancelled his flight. I had booked the vacation for us, rearranging my schedule to coincide with his, and since we had been together two years, since our junior year of college, I expected that he might propose before the week was out. He should have been my husband. I had never seriously dated anyone else, and only he had touched me, seen my body, or shared the joy of our bed with me. All of that was no more.
Mike, my now ex, travelled a lot as a capital investment counselor, seeking out new business opportunities for the investment fund he worked for. He was apparently good at it. We had studied accounting together, but only I sat for the CPA. Financially, we were in perfect shape for our age. I was ready to put down on a house, marry Mike, and start a family.
I had booked the vacation through a friend, Karen, who also travelled a bunch in her line of work. That’s one of the perks of being a travel agent. It was, I thought, coincidental that her and Mike ended up in Vegas together; she said she didn’t recognize him at first, but how could she when he had some cheap whore on his lap in the spa? That sort of thing can block your view. She took both stills and video with her cell, he never noticed. Well, he noticed when she sent them, apologetically, to me and I confronted him.
He didn’t even try to deny it. He only asked that I forgive him, but I knew I would never get over it, at least not for a long time. I had given him all I could, and waited until we were committed, I thought, before doing that. He had me; heart, soul and body, and threw me away like I was trash.
I couldn’t even look at him.
The only good thing Karen had told me was that she had put us down for trip insurance so cancelling his part of the trip got me most of that money back. That wasn’t even a small consolation. I didn’t care about the money.
I have, I’m told, a great body, and I think I had a decent look. Years of running had given me the body, and years of wearing braces and retainers had given me the smile. A few hours a month at the salon took care of hair and I eventually found a make-up regimen that suited me. Several years of orthodontics and many thousands of my parent’s dollars had given me both a great smile and much needed confidence boost once the braces that had robbed me of teenage happiness were finally off. Still my youth had left me very introverted and self conscious.
The last of my look I got when I finally committed to sleeping with Mike. I started birth control first so we wouldn’t conceive until after we were wed, and my breasts grew to a nice C. They were very sensitive as a result, but neither Mike nor I complained about that. My problem skin finally cleared up as an added benefit as well.
Because in school I ranged from an ugly duckling at worst, or average to plain if my fellow teens were feeling generous, I had always been fairly reserved in my dress. Frumpy outfits and one-piece swimwear were the norm. Not this week.
Before the breakup, I had bought a new wardrobe just for this trip. I wanted every day to be enticing to my love, and every evening passionate and filled with joy. I didn’t have time to get or pack another wardrobe after I dumped him, but figured I could make it work. No one I knew would see me anyway.
That is how I ended up under a cabana at the resort’s private beach, wearing a tiny two-piece and covered in a wrap of sorts. I knew from their advertisements that women, at least the ones in my early twenties age group, wore thong bikinis at the beach and to keep Mike’s eyes from wandering off me I had brought three of this style as well as a couple more conventional bikinis.
I would never wear anything anywhere near that slutty and revealing at home in Ohio, and I felt quite uncomfortable and awkward wearing it here, despite what the glossy photos in the ads showed. I wore thongs under my cloths at home as I hated panty lines, but never where anyone might see them. That whole “whale tail” thing slutty girls did? Not me, my underwear stayed under everything else. Even Mike had never seen me in something so risqué. The bikini top was tiny as well. Bright red, like the bottom, my breasts were about to fall free from it no matter how I adjusted. If I placed it where I thought it should be keep to the girls in place, they were exposed beneath, and if I covered the underside, my areolas were readily bahis firmaları exposed at the least movement. What looked great in the dressing room had developed some practicality problems in real life. I only wore it that first day because when I woke up I was so pissed at my ex I decided to show some skin, I guess in my mind to make him jealous of something he would never see. It wasn’t a well thought out plan.
I solved the exposure problem by wearing a light sun dress over it, and developed a plan to loosen it up so I could get some sun without over exposure and personal scandal and humiliation. I was humiliated enough just by being there alone. That no one I knew would be there was no protection from my inhibitions when it came time to actually be seen.
I had arrived the night before, went straight to my room, which had a beautiful and wasted view, and went straight to bed to cry. This morning, after dealing with the issue of how to remain modest with the swimwear I had brought, a light breakfast in the resort restaurant, and then I was tucked in under a cabana with a book and an oversized bag with what I thought I might need.
The beach was beautiful and practically empty. Only one nearby cabana had anyone under it, a muscle bound guy waiting for his wife or girlfriend. There were a few local kids kicking a soccer ball around, and the usual folks strolling by. I unbuttoned the sun dress I was using as a wrap from the bottom up to just an inch or two below my bikini bottom, the opened it so my legs could get some sun. They were as white as the sand after a long winter in the Midwest. From the top I undid three buttons and opened so my chest and neck could catch some rays too, but I didn’t open it enough to show too much cleavage or anything like that. I guess the break up had driven me further into modesty as I had no one to show off for.
I relaxed into the padded and oversized beach chair, that was side by side with the one Mike was supposed to be in, opened my book and was only disturbed every half hour or so by a hotel employee checking on my drink. I ordered a Bloody Mary, and followed up with a Mimosa. I really wasn’t a drinker so after that I switched to tea, but I had just enough alcohol in me to feel nicely buzzed. I didn’t really read, I just stared at a book feeling sorry for myself and wondering why I wasn’t enough for Mike; was I ugly? Too conservative in bed? Not fun enough? I didn’t know, but I knew whatever caused him to stray was ultimately a shortcoming of mine, I just knew it.
About eleven, I was first disturbed by the world. The guy under the nearby beach shanty was still alone and he came over to greet me. He was ripped with muscle and it was clear he was a guy that spent time at the gym. He had muscular arms, legs, pecs, shoulders, and a nice six pack of firm abs. He was a little taller than me, with dark hair that hung over his ears and parted rakishly to one side. He was also almost as pale as me, but I couldn’t help watching as he approached, but all the while I was thinking ‘Whatever your selling, I’m not buying. Go away.’
Still, he was great eye candy. A decade or so older than me, but yes, I admit, he was a cutie.
“Excuse me, are you Laura?”
‘Okay, you’re some sort of stalker creep even if you are hot. Still not interested. Go away.’ I thought as I gave him what must have been a curious stare while debating whether to scream or run.
“I’m sorry, I’m David, I think we have some things in common.”
“I don’t think so,” I replied as I returned to my book.
“We have the same travel agent, and we share exes. Seems your Mike has been doing it with my Lisa for a while. I’m sorry. I know you hurt. I hurt too. I just wanted to introduce myself in case I could do anything,” he spoke, his voice filled with sadness.
“Uh, how do you know that?”
“Karen sent me the same pictures you got. It seems they wanted to book this week so they could be together on the sly all week. Karen, well, I’ve known her all her life. She thinks they are shit and I guess got sick of looking the other way. Sorry to bother you.” He began to walk away, but I stopped him.
“Wait, uh, David was it? Uh… I’m sorry if I was rude. The wound is still open, ya know? And I was surprised that anyone would know my name here. Wanna have a seat?”
“Sure, but I…”
“Don’t want to talk about our exes?”
“Right. You got it,” he forced a smile.
“That works for me,” I grinned back at him.
“Can I ask you something about Karen though?” I said as I saw a big glaring hole in his story.
“Sure, what’s that?” David answered.
“Well see, I’ve know her since middle school. She is one of my few friends from then. If you’ve known her all her life, how is it we never met?” I asked as I stared him down.
He grinned, and then replied, “I really have known her all her life, we’re cousins. Until a couple years ago I lived in California.”
“Oh. Oooooohhhhh! You’re Hot Cousin David? She used to talk about her good looking kaçak iddaa cousin and… I’ve said too much,” I said, nearly laughing. Karen used to talk about her cousin when we were in high school and how attractive he was, but it was like a guy’s girlfriend from Canada, we never really believed her. Well, she was right about him being hot. I guess I owed her an apology.
“She calls me ‘Hot Cousin David’?”
“Oh, no, we did, her friends I mean. She just called you her cousin David, and talked about how good looking you were. Truthfully, none of us thought you really existed. Please, have a seat Hot Cousin David,” I laughed, for the first time in days.
“Thanks pretty friend Laura,” he laughed as he took the other lounger.
“Is that what she calls…”
“No, I just made that up, but it suits you. She just calls you Laura,” David replied with a grin.
David was a nice guy, a little old for me but not terribly so. Our age difference was in the socially acceptable range I guess, if I was looking for a guy, and I wasn’t. I mean, I could, I understood that I could look and find another partner, but the wound was fresh and I just wasn’t interested.
We talked for the better part of an hour, not once mentioning our mutually associated breakups, and he was quite nice to talk to. He was articulate and interesting, at first telling me about his life in Cali, then gossiping gently about Karen. We both told funny Karen stories and I found myself more at ease with ‘Hot Cousin David.’
He really was hot too. It was a few minutes before noon and we were conversing like old friends when I realized I was inadvertently checking him out. His only flaw, if you could call it that, was that he was a little pale, although he was still tanner than I. He had a sort of rugged good looks, with a five o’clock shadow, chiseled facial features and of course all the muscle I mentioned before.
If I had met him 3 years ago my lady parts would have been warm and moist after spending this much time with him. His attire didn’t help. He was shirtless and wearing board shorts that came to his knees, but as he sat on the beach chair adjoining mine they rode up to reveal thighs that looked as though they had banded steel cables under his skin. As flesh went, his was well maintained and very nice.
Once I was comfortable with David, the effects of the alcohol returned a bit and I wasn’t so focused on my modesty. Consciously I was, but sub consciously my mind was ready to be a bit more revealing I guess, or at least distracted and not paying close attention to my wardrobe. David had just finished a funny story about Karen on vacation with his family, when I realized I was checking him out, I caught myself and looked to his eyes to see if he had noticed to my eternal shame.
Instead I saw his eyes practically burning a hole in the scrap of swimwear between my legs, and realized that somewhere in our conversation I had bent my knees to be comfortable, and without realizing it the sundress had fallen open to my hips. David had a full and open view of my bikini covered girl bits, and since it was a thong, a display of the half of my ass that was closest to him as well.
He was staring openly, and I couldn’t tell if he was looking at the flesh of my butt, or mentally undressing my junk. Men are such pigs. Of course, I had been checking him out too, so I really couldn’t complain, but at least I wasn’t daydreaming about the lump in the front of his shorts.
Crap. I had noticed there was a lump in the front of his shorts. I’m a pig too.
As I had come on this vacation with the intent of showing this swimwear and those body parts to my, hopefully, fiancé, and otherwise had no plan to share the view intentionally with anyone else, I was incredibly embarrassed and my face was probably a million shades of red. I slowly straightened my legs, lowered my knees and pulled the dress closed again, this time fastening a couple of buttons to prevent that sort of exposure again, and tried to act as though I had not noticed his leer.
“David, it has been really nice chatting with you, but I think I’m going to go to my room, wash the sand off, and take a nap.” I said, trying to get away with whatever of my dignity was left.
“Oh, I was hoping to grab lunch at the grill, you sure you don’t want to grab a bite before you go?”
I glanced at the time, quickly rationalized that having someone to talk to at lunch was better than being alone even if he was a pig that stared at my bikini clad girly bits while I reciprocated by eyeing his body, and agreed. This was probably the last chance I had to not have the remaining events occur, so I was later glad I had chosen to have company.
Lunch was at the beachfront grille that the resort operated. Open air and decorated in a tropical vibe the meal was decent although nothing special. I had a jerk sandwich and some fruit salad, while David had a salad, also laden with fruit. When we arrived I went to the restroom, mainly to again adjust my stupid bikini kaçak bahis top under my dress, and when I returned, I found a gigantic glass of wine that David had ordered for me.
Okay bud, I remember this game from college, you buy big ass drinks and I sip them to avoid the effects. It didn’t seem like he was trying to get me drunk, remarking that he noticed what I had before so ordered on the assumption I would want alcohol and apologized for what he thought was a miscue.
“It’s okay, yeah I was drinking before but,” I said as I took a sip, “Mmmm, this good, its just I don’t want to spend the week drunk and depressed.”
‘Here’s to that!” he said as he raised his glass and we clinked them together. “What are your plans for the day?”
“I think after lunch I’ll take a nap. On my original schedule it was ‘long romantic walk on the beach and get proposed to’ day,” I said, then gasped, both at how bitter I must have sounded as well as my speaking with apparently no filter thanks to the drinks of the morning and lunch. I blushed in embarrassment as my tears began to swell.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… you know. Look, you’re going to bounce back; any guy should count himself lucky to be worth your time. Your ex is a moron, trust me, I know the bitch he’s stuck with better than anyone. I know it hurts, I hurt, but it is going to be okay.” David said.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from, well, I know where it came from but, well, I shouldn’t burden you, you have enough to deal with,” I was finally able to say once I came back from anguish.
“Its okay, my plans for the week are shot too. Look, I can’t guarantee romantic and I’m not ready to propose, but that walk sounds nice. Maybe when it cools down this evening?”
I thought about it for second. Was he hitting on me? I didn’t think so; I think he just didn’t want to be alone anymore than I did really. I mean, I thought I wanted to be alone, but that was when the pain of being rejected was at its worst. Besides we were a decade apart age wise and he, well he was clearly out of my league. Karen did in fact have a “Hot Cousin David.”
“Okay,” I finally replied, “That would be nice, I don’t really want to,” I stopped myself before I admitted I didn’t want to be alone and my words hung in the air.
“You didn’t want to go for a walk?”
“No, I did, I do, I…” How could I save this? “I don’t want to walk alone. There might be some creepy people out there,” I smiled, proud of my save.
“I think it is pretty safe around here, there might be some odd people though, as I understand it there are clothing optional beaches in either direction,” He snickered.
“Really? Is that why you wanted to go walking? To see a bunch of naked people?” I laughed.
“No, I’m not that creepy, I’m uh…”
“Just a little creepy?”
“Right! I’m ‘stare at your legs at the beach’ creepy, not go look at naked people creepy.”
“Oh! I thought I caught you staring at a bit more than my legs!” I giggled.
“Guilty as charged,” he smiled. “You really are great at distracting a guy from his book. Can I ask you something Laura?”
“Sure, whether I answer it…”
“No, I was just wondering why you are wearing a dress at the beach, you seem over dressed.”
“Oh. Uh, how much did Karen tell you about me?” I asked.
“Not a lot really, just that she had known you forever, that you were really sweet, she was right about that, and you know, about our conjoined break up story. She said you would be around today and to find you just look for the prettiest woman here, she was right about that too by the way,” David smiled, “and that you would be alone, but not for long. It was her idea that I should find you so I would be totally alone down here.”
I blushed at his compliments, I really wasn’t used to that, and now was really not sure if he was flirting.
“Well, I’m really modest, I, well my fashion sense is best described as ‘frumpy’ or ‘old librarian lady.’ I’m really just not comfortable showing much skin. Normally that means a one piece at the beach, usually with some running shorts, and I avoided pool parties all my life. Anyway, I, well before the thing happened that we agreed to not talk about, well; I wanted the trip to be special. I never really dressed all sexy and stuff so as a treat to, uh,”
“The guy we agreed to not talk about?” He interjected.
“Yes. Him. Anyway, I bought a new wardrobe for the trip and if I liked it, I was going to try to loosen up a bit. No sense in that now. So, yeah, I was all packed when Karen told me the truth, and I didn’t have time to shop again, and now I have a bunch of swimwear and other stuff I’m not really comfortable being seen in. That’s the short version.”
“Why not what?” I asked back.
“Why aren’t you comfortable being seen? You look quite fit. Work out a lot?”
“Oh, thank you. I run three or four times a week. And I just don’t. When I was younger, well, middle and high school were not kind to me and I got really self-conscious I guess. I’ve never really gotten over it, and, this week was supposed to be about stretching my boundaries but I don’t have a boyfriend to stretch them for so, I wearing a dress as a wrap.”