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.
Thanks!
-JPA
Laura
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 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?"
