Beaches and Cream Read Free Page A

again. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
    She strode off the veranda and up the pebbled path, sunlight flashing between her interchanging thighs. Her athletic body was well defined in the figure-hugging clothes. This was the second time I found myself marveling at how revealing and defining tight clothes could be on a body. Tia’s tight clothes, as her mother’s had in the rain, drew even more attention to her figure—even more than when she’d been naked. Her bare back was slim and strong. The soft fabric of the leggings clung to her hips and nipped into the soft crevices where her pert bottom and flexing thighs met, winking and smiling and then smoothing again with each step. These women were clearly and unrelentingly prideful of their bodies. I could certainly stand to take a leaf from their body-confidence manifestoes.
    Veronica drove us down to the beach and we made ourselves comfortable on the sand. The water was a rich, turquoise blue, and the sand dazzlingly white—nearly too hot to walk upon. I love the smell of the beach. That smell of salt sea air and hot sand, mingling with the occasional whiff of coconuts and the other scented lotions all of the nearly-nude people use to protect themselves from the sun. Many of the women went topless here, clad only in bikini briefs, sipping a cool pressé, or elegantly smoking like Riviera film stars of the ’60s. I was surprised and comforted to see that Veronica opted to remain clothed, top and bottom, in a sensible two-piece that matched her elegant sun hat.
    I pulled the halter neck of my sundress over my head and wriggled out of it. I adjusted the bikini that I’d fretted over, rejected, reconsidered, and finally purchased and packed. The vivid sunlight was a far cry from the cold, fluorescent light of the changing room, where I’d first worn this bikini. I was pleased to see I’d made the right choice, and the little outfit looked really rather good. The sun on my skin was like a drug and, with sounds of laughter on the wind, and the hypnotic rush of the sea in my ears, I soon dozed off.
    I don’t know how long I’d slept for. Probably only a few minutes. But I was startled awake by Veronica fussing and buzzing beside me.
    â€œGood heavens, Mand! It’s a good thing I’ve caught you! You’ve fallen asleep in the sun without a drop of sunscreen on!”
    As I awoke from my daze, she was already rubbing the lotion into her hands. Slowly, I began to get up.
    â€œNo, Mand,” she said, placing her hand on my back. “You’ve got to make sure you’re absolutely covered out here. And you can’t do your own back.”
    Both her hands pressed lightly at the small of my back, smearing the slippery lotion over and into my skin. Her hands were soft and strong, and they swept smoothly over my back as she coated me with the protective fluid. She clucked and cooed as she worked.
    â€œDear me, Mand! Whatever were you thinking! Falling asleep out here in the afternoon sun. You’d be burned to a crisp. You just cannot be too careful!”
    Her hands coursed purposefully over my body, gliding up my back towards my shoulders. Her thumbs slipped under my bikini strap and traced the line between it and my skin, from the centre of my back right out to where the cups of my bikini top began.
    â€œYou must cover absolutely every inch,” she said softly.
    Her face was near to mine. She had applied more lotion, kneading it into my shoulders, her thumbs pressing softly upward between my shoulder blades, until her hands enveloped my neck, and her fingers sweetly and gently applied the lotion behind my ears. The sensation was unexpectedly intimate. My body spasmed involuntarily for just a moment and, had my neck not been covered in oil, I’m sure Veronica would have seen goose-bumps.
    I’m sure I could hear a smile in her voice. “The sun is very strong, Mand. And it can get