Beaches and Cream (4 page)

She drew in a sharp breath. I stopped, thinking that I had played too irreverently. But then she laughed her low, deep laugh.

“Thank you, Mand,” she said, not opening her eyes. “That will do.”

And like that, I was dismissed.

“That's ok.” I rose reluctantly, and ascended the stairs back to the pool.

“What did she want?” Tia asked lazily.

“She just needed some sun block on her back.”

“Oh, right,” Tia said indifferently. She yawned and stretched as she spoke—the muscles of her little body tightening as she did so. “It's so nice out here, Mand. Why don't you pull up a lounger?”

I looked at Tia, her eyes closed, head turned away from me. One arm thrown carelessly above her head, her legs slightly parted. Her body was completely smooth. Her sex hairless and bare, as seemed to be so fashionable. The pink, plump outer lips of her pussy looked delicate and vulnerable without even a whisper of hair to secrete or protect them.

My gaze drifted over the balustrade to Veronica below. Lazily and carelessly naked, newly glistening with sun cream, in similar repose to Tia, one hand behind her head, the other holding a book in front of her face, her ankles crossed. Mother and daughter reflecting each other across a generation. Beautiful and statuesque in confidence and comfort. Veronica had no right to make me feel self-conscious for being the only one who wasn't naked. As if I was doing something wrong by keeping my clothes on. And then she had the gall to fuck my father—although not in that order. It was an absolute outrage!

In an act of pure defiance, I kicked off my shoes, my gaze searing into Veronica as I did so. I wriggled roughly out of my skirt and flung it aside. Pulled my t-shirt over my head, and snatched off my bikini top without even bothering to undo the knot at my neck. I stood, naked but for my bikini bottoms, my eyes burning through Veronica, willing her to see me. But her eyes remained focused on the book in front of her. With goose-bumps on my arms and the back of my neck prickling with angry heat, I had no other recourse but to dive indignantly and noisily into the pool. But even as the water closed over my head, I knew that the only person I was defying with my topless protest was myself.

The next day I woke early. I'd slept fitfully and awoken suddenly, full of unanswerable questions about my father's dalliance with Veronica. I could understand why. But why had no one told me? Why was it so secretive? Why was I the last to know?

Yesterday's topless protest had gone largely unnoticed by anyone but me. After I'd pulled my top off and jumped in the pool, I'd swum a few lengths before eventually mustering the courage to re-emerge into the air. Only to find Tia still luxuriating drowsily and Veronica more interested in her book than anything else. There's nothing worse than staging a protest when no one's looking. And so I decided I absolutely would not dive back into my bikini top until somebody—
anybody
—had seen that I'd taken it off in the first place. I'd sat on the edge of the pool dangling my feet in the cool water until Tia rolled over lazily, opened her eyes and smiled.

With no recognition whatsoever that there was anything different about me, she said, “Oh, you're still out. I thought you'd gone inside.”

She shivered slightly and sat up.

“It's starting to cool off,” she'd said. “I'm gonna go in.”

I don't know what I was expecting. As if she, without a stitch of clothing on, should praise and commemorate me for baring my breasts. The only praise she appeared to give was to the dying sun. She stood, raising the palms of her hands high above her head, arching her back to give a full body stretch, standing on tiptoes and reaching toward the heavens. With a quick rub of her upper arms, she was off and up the stairs. Her naked bottom as strong and pert and lithe as it had been in her leggings.

I looked down at my own breasts—the flesh white, nipples pink. Two tender, iridescent globes, while all around them my skin had turned the colour of honey. Why were my breasts so precious? Were they unworthy of the warmth and the light of the sun? I stayed there for another hour, actually enjoying the abandon—the abandon which my mother would have hated and found so shameful—until Veronica too climbed the stairs to go inside. She, like Tia, only smiled and made no mention whatsoever of my sartorial minimalism. With the departure of all potential audiences, I could no longer pretend I was waiting for acknowledgement or approval. What was more surprising was that I no longer wanted it. I raised my chin to the dying sun and thrust my bare breasts forward. The cooling breeze had already stiffened my nipples, causing them to pout petulantly in the air. They were undeniably proud, and really rather pretty. I hadn't found an audience, but why should I need one? I seemed to have found something even better—Confidence.

Still, that night I slept fitfully—my head swimming with carnal questions about Veronica and, slightly less comfortably, about my father. So I'd woken earlier than I'd intended. I descended to the pool and stood at the water's edge, watching the orange light of the new sun spread across the hillside. With considerably less belligerence than the day before, I peeled off the t-shirt I'd slept in. I was delighted to find the sensation of the air on my skin as liberating as it had been yesterday. I looked up at the house. All was silent and still. I looked down at my body. Even the short time I'd spent in the last light of the sun had begun to turn my pale breasts tawny. I tugged the elastic waistband of my pajama pants down below my hips. The white band of skin, where my bikini had denied the sun, marked me like a brand of prudence. I pulled the loose fabric a bit lower, trying to peer round to my bottom where the pale flesh became more prominent. The difference was quite remarkable—and not altogether appealing.

Another quick look back to the house. I slid the elastic fully over my bottom, and worked the shorts down my thighs, until the garment lost its tension and fell to my ankles. I stepped out of the shorts and stood fully naked outdoors for the first time. It felt wonderful. It felt exciting, refreshing, gloriously natural and yet undeniably sensual at the same time. All of my body was given to the air and the sun with nothing and nowhere to hide. I slipped into the pool and the water embraced me even more intimately than the air had. I floated and stroked through the water, just as I'd watched Tia do upon our arrival. The water felt completely new on my bare bottom, and deliciously rude between my legs as I scissored and stroked back and forth.

I emerged dripping wet from the pool to find that the air had grown warmer. The only towels were still in the house, and I was reluctant to put dry clothes on my wet body. I'd be dry in a moment anyway, and the wait would allow me to enjoy my nudity just a little longer. I took a padded mattress from one of the sun loungers, pulled it into an enclave beneath the balustrade, out of view from the house, and stretched out happily as the sun crept over the trees.

“Oh, for heaven's sake, Mand!”

I awoke violently to the sound of Veronica's voice, my heart suddenly racing. After a night in which I'd found it difficult to sleep, I'd drifted off almost immediately in the warmth and peace of the poolside. The sunlight seared into my sleepy eyes and I lifted my hand to shield them. Veronica strode toward me, also naked, out of the white-hot light. Her wide hips rolled and her heavy breasts bounced and swayed from side to side. She stopped at the small pile of my nightclothes, and her breasts came to rest not long thereafter. I sat bolt upright, drawing my knees to my chest.

“I told you yesterday, Mand. The sun is very fierce out here. If you're going to lie out, you absolutely must protect yourself!”

“I….I didn't mean…..I fell asleep.”

“Oh, you must be more careful, Mand. Go to my bedroom vanity table, please, and get my sun cream. The
Melonin
, please. It's all natural.

I stood slowly. Veronica's gaze remained fixed upon me. Her face was concerned and kind. But I'd never in my life felt more appraised and exposed. I moved toward her.

“Ok, I'll just pop into my….”

“I'll put these in the laundry, shall I,” she said, bending to collect my shorts and t-shirt. “I'm doing some washing later on.”

I stopped, a few steps away from her, my arm partly extended, hoping she would extend her hand to me. But Veronica's hand remained clamped around my clothes, her arms down at her sides. Even completely naked she was totally invulnerable. She inclined her chin and widened her eyes, as if waiting for me to say something more. When I did not, she tilted her head toward the house.

“Go on now,” she said softly.

My nude liberation dissolved into doubt. I felt the colour rise in my cheeks and my legs grew weak as I turned slowly and began the long walk up to the house. I could feel her eyes upon me. I wondered if she found my bright white bottom unsightly. I wished it to be as pert and cute and brown as her daughter's. I tried to walk with my head held high. With the same easy grace Veronica and Tia moved, whether they were naked or not. I kept up this shakily regal pretense until I reached the veranda, where I broke into a run and darted into the house.

The ceramic titles of the house were cool under my bare feet after the heat of the outdoors. I crept up the stairs and down the corridor, right by the room I shared with Tia. I swept past, but Tia was in the shower. It felt completely inappropriate to be running around the house naked. But now that I knew I wouldn't run into Tia, I felt a bit more relaxed.

The sun streamed into Veronica's big bedroom from every window. I crossed the room, my bare toes squeezing into the plush rug that covered most of the centre. An L-shaped bend led from the bedroom to the en suite bathroom, and Veronica had established her vanity table in that enclave. In front of the vanity table sat two stools of clouded alabaster. The seats were shaped to suit a woman's shapely bottom quite comfortably. The pieces were carved exquisitely, with gargoyles coupling rudely in every conceivable contortion in a never-ending chain all over and around the stone. As the carvings reached the seat, they dissipated into soft swirls that created shallow little hills and grooves over the surface.

The vanity table itself was host to a surfeit of expensive lotions, creams, make-up and perfumes—all of things that kept Veronica looking and smelling so perpetually beautiful. In keeping with her chairs, she had a number of pieces of artwork adorning the table. Intricate pieces of smooth, hand-blown glass, moulded and twisted into tubes and ringlets, and swept through with rich colours and swirling designs adorned the tabletop. Some stood alone, while others had their own little stands to display them like rare oriental objects. Little jade tulip buds of varying sizes sprung up about the table in green, ivory, and black. I found the
Melonin
tucked away behind one of the glass pieces. I leant over to take it and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Two full-length mirrors flanked the table and I took a step to my left to look at myself completely.

I took in the whole of my naked form. I don't think I'd ever faced myself completely nude before. I'd never really had occasion to. I didn't pull a face. Or make a funny pose. I simply stood and looked. I enjoyed the new, bronzing hue of my skin. And I reconciled the diminishing white bands across my breasts and my hips. I was proud enough to look at my naked body without shame, and to wish those white bands as golden as the rest of me.

My body looked so soft and pure. So indisputably natural that the plastic bottle looked incongruously synthetic in my hand. I thought of Veronica waiting outside, and of how she would handle my body with the contents of that bottle. I could see the colour rising into my neck as I thought about her, and that involuntary pulsing began in the pit of my abdomen. I looked at the soft, sparse down forming a triangle between my thighs and protecting my privates. I thought about Tia's smooth, vulnerable pussy, and how much more secretive mine seemed to be in comparison with hers. I put my fingers to the fine hairs. In one direction they were silky smooth, while the other way they were prickly. I traced the silk right down between my legs to where it stopped completely and my pussy became prominent and full. I was wet there. And my fingers were surprised to find it. The tender lips had begun to swell and they'd grown slick with just the mere thought of Veronica's hands sliding all over my body. I flushed immediately, taken aback by my own desire. And as soon as the desire had risen, it crested into a wave of indecency. For Veronica had probably made my own father feel similar to this. And it was extremely likely that my father had made Veronica feel exactly like this. I took my fingers from my slippery vagina and became suddenly embarrassed when I caught my eye in the mirror.

I thought to grab a towel, to affect some form of modesty upon my return to Veronica. But I'd been naked when I left the pool. To cover up now would only advertise my embarrassment and make me out to be the prude I'd fought to repel yesterday. The decision was made for me when I heard Tia turn off the shower. I could wait here to be discovered naked, blushing, and more than a little excited, while I deliberated between a towel or no towel. Or I could go. Considering the awkwardness of the former, I turned and fled. I ran down the corridor and swept past the open bathroom door moments before Tia emerged from the shower.

Veronica was waiting for me in exactly the same place. She looked at me appraisingly, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

“Good girl,” she said. “Let's do your back first.”

I handed her the bottle and lay down obediently on my front. Veronica drew up beside me and massaged a generous dollop of lotion into her hands. When she laid her hands upon me, I breathed in, deep and content. With that breath came the heady perfume of Veronica's sweet smelling hair, her buttery skin, and the cantaloupe fruit of the
Melonin
. It was like she was drugging me and hypnotising me all at the same time. In no time she'd lubricated and relaxed all the little muscles in my neck, my back and shoulders, and down my arms. I adored the way her slippery hands could run from my neck right down to my bum and back again without tripping over my bikini; her heavy breasts resting upon and then slipping over my bare bottom as she did so.