Beaches and Cream (9 page)

“Why did you say that you didn't know my mother?”

“Because I don't,” Veronica replied simply. “The woman I loved isn't there anymore. This woman…..the woman that Margret is today, is scared and uptight and closed off. Oh, Mand, you should have seen her. She was wonderful. She was….well, I suppose she was more like you. Now....I hope you won't mind me saying, she is all fear and mistrust. The Margaret I know is fun and adventurous, naughty and curious. So, no, I don't know who this woman is at all.”

It was a comfort to learn that my uptight mother hadn't always been that way. I was almost proud to know that she had once possessed a fun and fiery spirit. But I was surprised that such a spirit could be so fleeting. I would work doubly hard to preserve mine. I grew to understand that Veronica had truly loved my mother. Loved her so much, in fact, that she'd named her only daughter, my best friend Tia—Marguerita—after her lost love, my mother, Margaret.

When we weren't on the beach, we spent the remainder of our holiday gloriously naked and free. It felt almost sinful to put clothes on. And such a hassle. So much better to be as we are. With the added bonus of Veronica indulging me in the most unexpected pleasures, right under the nose of her own daughter—who, if she suspected anything at all, feigned ignorance beautifully. I found myself watching Tia, from behind dark sunglasses, when we lay out together. She had always been a beautiful girl. And I wondered how her taut, athletic body would respond to the things that my body had learned to crave and adore. The things her own mother had shown me….that I could now show to her.

A scorchingly hot day, along with a gloriously unexpected foray of knee-trembling, head-splitting orgasms had left me exhausted. The living room was cool and airy, and I'd reclined on the sofa with a book, while Tia and Veronica went shopping in town. I must have dozed off, because I woke to the sound of footsteps on the veranda. I stood, groggily; stretching as I made my way to the shutters I'd closed against the burning sun.

“You're back early….” I began sleepily.

But as I spoke, the shutters were drawn open, not by Tia and Veronica—but by a man. I shrieked with surprise and snatched the nearest thing to hand in a bid to cover my suddenly-remembered modesty. As it turned out, I'd grabbed a book from the coffee table. The book barely covered my tummy, leaving more personal areas ridiculously exposed. It must have looked like I'd become suddenly embarrassed about exposing my bellybutton.

The man smiled shyly, not quite sure where to look. His skin was the colour of dark sand. His curly hair was thick and black, flecked with grey. A suitcase as handsome and rugged as he rested by his side.

“You must be Mand,” he said smiling, his eyes creasing at their corners. “At least I hope you are. Otherwise you are the strangest burglar the world has ever known. I'm Claudio. And it seems I'm a little early.”

“Hello,” I squeaked.

“Would you like to put something on before I come in?”

His chivalry was sweet. I smiled too. “Thank you.”

I turned and crossed the floor, returning the ridiculous book to the table as I passed. My shock had worn off and I found myself walking not just with comfort, but with pride. It is impossible not to watch a naked person walking away from you, and I could feel his eyes drinking me in. At the foot of the stairs I flashed another grin to Claudio. His kindly eyes were indeed watching me as he crossed the threshold.

I made my way up the stairs and my easy grin morphed into a wicked smile. If Veronica could fuck her way through my family, I could certainly fuck my way through hers. And I'd have a lot of fun doing it.

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