It was the end of my Junior year at Princeton University. I had made only a few friends in those years. The University of course was full of the best and brightest from around the world. An Oklahoma farmboy myself, somehow I felt substandard to the group dynamics.
I was a biology major and while I continued to get excellent grades, it was not without endless hours of studying. My social life was about the same as it was in high-school. I met a few nice girls, but most were so intent on their education that we became friends at best.
Not exactly a nerd, I stand six-foot-three, with the body of an athlete but never engaged in sports much to the chagrin of every high-school coach back in Oklahoma. At Princeton there was no such pressure.
During the final weeks of the spring semester I met Marina who had recently joined one of my study groups. Marina seemed impossibly shy, and at only about five-foot-three I towered over her. I gathered up a little nerve and introduced myself.
"Mike Rawling." I smiled
"Marina Ward." she returned.
We became friends and spent most of the rest of the semester together. It was not a romantic relationship however.
This is not to say that I was not attracted to Marina who had a very unconventional beauty. Short, thin, long brown hair, no breasts to speak of, and a fashion sense right out of the 1960's. T-shirts and shorts, no makeup, jeans, tube-tops, sneakers, and occasionally, jewelry that looked like it was hand-made. Marina hardly ever seemed to wear a bra and was either unaware or un-self-conscious about the fact that her nipples poked through everything she wore.
As it turns out, Marina was home schooled for her high-school years, and tested out to be somewhat of a genius. Her mother was an environmental scientist and worked for the federal government doing environmental impact studies around the country. Marina's mom had divorced her father while Marina was very young and the traveling necessitated home schooling.
In the final week of exams, I hardly saw my friend Marina until we were both in the same exam and lingered afterwards to catch up.
Marina, mentioned that she would be working with her mom all summer at the beach here in New Jersey and that she was looking for another helper. She didn't actually suggest that I work with her but, I thought that's where it was going.
"What kind of work is it?" I asked.
"Bugs, fish, birds, sand, sticks, mud, grasses, clams, mosquitos, flies, digging, labeling, measuring, and sleeping." "If you like you can meet my mom this weekend and see if it might interest you."
We made plans to meet her mom that weekend at a house she was renting for the winter a block from the beach.
"Call me Claire." Said Marina's mom with a firm handshake and big smile. While Claire seemed to dress in the same "hippy" style as Marina, their physical difference was extraordinary. Claire stood about five-foot nine with streaked blond hair, bright green eyes, a slim-yet sturdy frame, and breasts. Spectacular breasts. Unfettered by a bra, I was mesmerized by their undulations beneath her t-shirt.
Claire told me that she had a federal grant to assess the impact of a recent storm on the Sandy Hook beaches of New Jersey a six-mile long barrier island kept as a natural preserve and recreation area by the National Park Service.
"It's a dirty job, we sleep in a tent most of the time, shower in cold water or bathe naked in the ocean and work from dawn until dusk in the heat and cold. We eat sandwiches and hot dogs." And then pausing, Claire said. "Nature in all its glory."
She had me at "naked in the ocean". I called my parents to tell them that I had "scientific" work for the summer and would not be coming back to Oklahoma, except for a short visit before school restarted again.
Two weeks later, Marina and I helped her mom unpack her rental house and move her few belongings into the SUV that would become our support vehicle for the summer. We packed a tent, and assorted, camping gear as well as two large cases for scientific instruments and various sample collection gear.
During the hour long drive to our camping ground on Sandy Hook, Claire and Marina chatted like old girlfriends. They were very close, having spent most of their lives together. Like sisters really and only their physical differences reminded me that they were indeed mother and daughter.
It was a cold and windy day at the beach, too early in the season for beach-goers as we pitched a single tent behind the dunes. A beautiful spot protected from the wind and with a ten-step climb up the dunes, spectacular views of the ocean, the breaking waves and the long line of grassy dunes.
I got a quick tour of the layout. Nearby there were public restrooms, not yet opened for the season and outdoor showers that had recently been turned on but only offered water heated by the sun on the tanks in which it was held so - mostly cold water! There was a makeshift walkway from a large parking lot to the beach which I was surprised to hear was a nude beach. From the size of the parking lots I would guess it might be quite crowded in a few weeks when the weather improved.
I was instructed on how to make use of a gravelly waste area behind a small parking lot as a bathroom and how to bury my own waste - at least until the public restrooms were open if I "chose to walk all that way".
That night, we ate hot dogs roasted on our camp stove and the three of us climbed into the tent to sleep. We each had our own sleeping bags and owing to the cold weather tucked ourselves in tightly, with Marina in between me and her mother.
It was still dark when I heard a rustling outside the tent and getting quickly to my knees realized it was just Claire gathering wood and brush to get a proper fire going in the fire pit.
I poked my head out. "Showers or ocean, either way it's gonna be cold." Said Claire as Marina came into view with a load of branches. The possibility of seeing this mother daughter team naked had me immediately aroused.
As the fire began to warm our little campsite the sun appeared over the ocean. The horizon lit up in a blaze of orange, reds and yellows.
"Let's christen the summer and bathe in the ocean on our first morning" Said Marina. "Mike, get three towels out of the red bag on mom's side of the tent."
I was already figuring that we would go down to the water, strip to our undies and splash in the ocean for a few seconds of fear and delight - for me at least, and then slip into the towels for the walk back.
This was not their plan though.
"Mike, put the towels on the seat next to the fire so they are warm when we get back." Said Claire.
"Ready!"
