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Wayne Scheer |
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The Nude Beach "The problem with being a nudist," Paul said, "is you have no pockets." Paul met Cindy at a nude volleyball game at the clothing-optional section of Pine Island beach. Cindy, a tall blond with firm breasts and a Colgate toothpaste smile, laughed at Paul's no pockets comment. "If I give you my phone number, do you think you could remember it?" "No problem. Like my social security number, I'll take it to my grave." Cindy laughed again. Aside from a body both men and women would pay a fortune for, it was her laugh that had caught Paul's attention. All through the volleyball game, whether she missed a shot or set up a perfect spike for a teammate, she'd laugh -- an uninhibited, open-mouth laugh. After the game Paul high-fived her and chanted the ritual "good game." He introduced himself and was happy to see how quickly she held out her hand and told him her name. Paul surprised himself because he was rarely this assertive. Since his divorce had become official two months earlier, he'd gone out on only one date, a disaster arranged by a friend. This was his first venture to the beach alone. Jan, his ex-wife, had introduced him to nudism when they were still dating. Paul remembered how self-conscious he felt at first, worrying so much about how he sized up to the men that he almost didn't appreciate the sight of all those naked women. Almost. Jan said she was just so happy to be free of a bathing suit, she didn't care what she looked like. Paul sensed a similar freedom in Cindy. He suddenly realized he was still holding Cindy's hand. "Uh, my stuff is over here. Would you like a drink?" "Sure," she said without hesitation. Paul wished Jan could see him now. Since the breakup of their marriage he'd been a mess, calling Jan at all hours claiming to want to speak to their daughter while knowing she was tucked in for the night. He missed the life they had together, but Jan had made it clear that it was over. He had to get on with his life, she kept telling him. Now he was. Pointing towards his blanket, he led the way. As they walked, he asked if this was her first time at Pine Island. "First time on this part of the island," she said laughing out loud. Paul noted that her tan lines below the waist were striking, but her breasts were almost as dark as her arms. "You've at least been to a topless beach, I see. But you definitely have what nudists call a cottontail." Immediately, he wished he hadn't said that. She appeared unfazed and told him she sunbathed topless at her ex-boyfriend's pool. "It's funny. I lived with him for almost a year and never sunbathed totally nude, you know? But as soon as I got here, it took me about two seconds to take off my bottoms. I felt so self-conscious with them on." "That's the 'when in Rome' factor." Paul told her of his first time. "It was about five years ago. I came here with my wife, uh, ex-wife. Actually, my girlfriend at the time. Her folks belonged to a nudist park out near San Bernardino and she grew up taking nudity for granted." "Now that's weird," Cindy interrupted. "Oh no." She put her hands over her eyes. "I'm imagining coming here with my mom and dad. I may have to pluck out my eyes." Paul pointed to a blue and white striped blanket spread out on the sand, a beach bag on one end and a cooler on the other. "Here we are." Unfolding a clean towel from his bag, he handed it to Cindy. Confused, she took it and wiped her face. "It's to sit on," he said. "Nudist etiquette. You know, a stranger's blanket and all." "Oh I guess I have a lot to learn." She sat on the towel and tried crossing her long legs Indian style. Paul opened his cooler and offered her a choice of Miller Lite or Diet Coke. "Trying to lose weight," he said tapping his slightly protruding stomach. He tried sucking in his belly, hoping not to look like an idiot. "I should probably have the Coke," Cindy said. "But I need the beer." "Good for you." He popped the lid on the can for her. "Sorry I didn't bring cups." Without saying a word, she grabbed the can and downed half of it. Paul sat down worrying what his stomach might look like in that position. He had become comfortable with his body since coming to the beach with Jan, but now he was less sure of himself. Jan was attractive but a little overweight, even before Alyssa was born. However, the woman sitting next to him was gorgeous. Letting his eyes drift downward, he noted she was a natural blonde. Cindy suddenly changed her position, stretching her legs out and resting on her elbows. Paul feared she had caught his eye drift and he felt himself blush. "I was supposed to come here today with a girlfriend," Cindy said. "But she chickened out. I decided to come anyway." "I'm glad you did." They drank another beer. She told him she was a graphic artist and, since Paul was a computer software designer, they spoke of media technology. She was younger than he thought, not quite twenty-three. He told her he was married at twenty-three, a father at twenty-five and divorced at twenty-seven. Cindy was surprised to learn how recently the divorce was finalized. She talked about her family in Ohio and Paul spoke of his ex-wife and daughter. "I miss them -- my daughter, I mean. She just turned two. The other day I was talking to her on the telephone and I heard her say to her mother, "Daddy stuck in phone." "Cute," Cindy said. Paul saw her looking over his shoulder. He contemplated the new dating etiquette he would have to learn. Did talking about his daughter make him a sensitive male or a loser pining away for his lost family? "The next beer is on me," Cindy said standing up, which brought Paul's mind back to her body and off his own life. He offered to walk her to her blanket, but she said she needed to use the restroom and would be back soon. Paul, too, needed to go but he feared it might seem a little creepy if he followed her. Instead, he sat and watched her walk towards the bathhouse. She obviously wore bikini bottoms that cut across the middle of her buns. He tried imagining what she looked like sunbathing. Paul remembered joking with Jan when a good-looking, nude woman walked by them at the beach. "I'd like to see what she looks like in a winter coat and boots," he'd say, whispering out of the corner of his mouth. He realized how much he missed those moments with Jan. Jan might not be as knockdown gorgeous as Cindy, he thought, but he always loved the roundness of her ass. He remembered how it looked in the early morning light as she slept nude beside him. Suddenly, Paul realized he was getting erect. He rolled on his stomach and tried not thinking of Jan. Instead, one of their last conversations replayed in his mind. "I just want more," she said. "More what?" "More everything. More excitement, more emotion. You never even get mad at me." "Is that wrong? I love you." "You love being married to me. But that's not enough." "I don't understand." "I know you don't," Jan told him. "That's the problem." Paul still didn't understand. If Jan had found someone else, he'd be upset but at least he'd understand. He could blame her, be indignant. She knew who he was when they married. She knew he wasn't the emotional type. She knew he wasn't ever going to be the life of the party. He wasn't a risk taker, although visiting the nude beach worked out pretty well. He knew their marriage was in trouble just before Jan became pregnant and she got the urge to bungee jump. He wouldn't do it. He'd just stand on the side and watch, petrified. When she told him she was pregnant, his first feeling was relief. "No more bungee jumping for you," he told her. He'd never forget the look on her face. "Hey there." Cindy stood over him carrying her cooler in one hand. She put it down, took out two beers and handed him one. His eyes focused on her well-trimmed pubic area. Jan never shaved, he recalled. He preferred Jan's thick, dark bush. "Tell me about your ex," Paul said suddenly, partly because he wanted to know and partly because he wanted to change the subject, fearing his erection would return. "He runs a modeling agency. That's how we met. I applied for a job but didn't get it." "That's hard to believe." "As a graphic designer." Cindy smiled. "But one thing led to another. We started dating and a few months later I moved in with him." She looked away and turned back to Paul. "I'm glad I kept my day job." Paul wondered if she missed him, if she wanted to talk about him. Instead, he suddenly blurted out, "I still can't call my wife my ex-wife." He watched her gray eyes narrow, but after an awkward silence they had another beer. Cindy talked more about work and her move to California. "I just had to get away. Make a new life." "I admire that. I've lived in Southern California my whole life. Even went to UCLA. When I married, I thought I'd live here forever." Cindy smiled and rolled on her stomach. She asked Paul if he'd rub suntan lotion on her shoulders and back. Slowly and gently, he massaged the lotion onto her shoulders inching his hands down her back while being careful not to go too far down. Making small circles and rubbing the oil with his fingertips, he caressed her back gently at first and then more firmly, as Jan had taught him. "Don't stop," Cindy said, as he reached the bottom of her back. Still thinking more of Jan than of Cindy, Paul rubbed the lotion over her buttocks and down her legs. When he finished, he patted her rear end, as he would have done with Jan, and Cindy smiled into his eyes. Paul knew this was an important moment. Cindy was letting him know that she liked him and wanted him to respond accordingly. He tried thinking of something romantic to say, something sweet. This was the time to tell her how wonderful he found her laugh or how her eyes sparkled in the sunlight. But he was afraid of how clichéd it would sound. "It's hard being with another woman." He couldn't believe he had said that. "But I think it's different with you. Meeting here, you know. No façade." She smiled, but fiddled with the blanket as Paul reached for her hand. "I'm ready for a new relationship," Paul said, more to himself than to Cindy. "My marriage is over. It's time to..." "Whoa. I just got out of a relationship. I'm in no rush. I'm free to do whatever I want. Even go to a nude beach." She paused. "I just want to have fun." "Me, too," he said too quickly. "I need to have fun." Paul felt the back of his throat burn. "But I'm not sure I know how to have fun." They talked some more about what made them happy. Paul could only think of quiet times with Jan, just watching TV with her at night or walking around their neighborhood after dinner. He talked about seeing his daughter born and about his work. "I can joke and make people laugh, but ...I can't even dance." "What?" "Isn't it pathetic? I can't even dance." "Sure you can. You just stop thinking and respond to the music." Paul realized how much there was he didn't understand. Suddenly, Cindy sat up and hugged herself. "It's starting to get chilly. I have to get back anyway. I have some errands to run." Paul offered to help carry her stuff to her car. "No thanks. I'm fine." Not wanting to crowd her, Paul asked for her telephone number. And like a fool, he patted himself and made the comment about nudists not having pockets. After some more joking, Cindy agreed to write her number in the sand, and offered Paul a hug and a friendly peck on the lips before saying good-bye. "Good-bye" reverberated in his head until he heard Jan uttering the same word. With a mixture of desire and relief, he watched Cindy's cottontail fade into the distance. On one hand, he wanted to rush home and call her. He imagined himself dating her. That would show Jan, he thought. But he knew he couldn't. Cindy wanted to have fun. What could he offer her? He remembered how awkward he felt when Jan tried teaching him to dance. "Loosen up," she'd say. "Why are you so afraid to let go?" Using his bare foot, Paul erased the numbers in the sand and packed for home. |