It was just after the Fourth of July weekend, very warm, very sunny, and extremely quiet. I have been lucky enough to have the use of my brother's boat, which is kept on the southern coast of Cape Cod during the summer months, for the next three weeks. Normally, my brother and his wife stay on the Cape over the summer but this year plans changed, and they opted for something different allowing me to take advantage of his 48' fly-bridge cruiser which was sitting idle, as long as I promised to pay for fuel and not damage it. We had grown up around the water, so I was comfortable with the boat and while spending time with him during past summers, I also became comfortable with the ocean in the area around the Cape and Islands. It is not as nice as the Mediterranean Sea, but beggars can't be too selective. At least the price was right and I could relax, plus it was only a short walk from the marina to the beach or into town and some nice restaurants and bars.
During the day I would alternate between the upper seating area which had a large cushion for lounging in the sun, and the covered space in the aft section that was comfortable for snacking and reading. There was another cushioned area toward the bow and a nice salon with seating, a TV, and a small galley for whatever meals I felt like preparing. It had all the comforts of a small NYC apartment and rocked gently with the waves. Clothing was always very casual as might be expected and, in my case, 'optional', with a loose-fitting tee shirt and bikini bottoms with string ties on the sides suiting me perfectly if I wore anything at all. While living in Europe for quite a few years, I developed a preference for female bikini bottoms because they fit my slender figure, accentuated my butt, and went low in the front, something that I thought was sexy. They did attract attention but in general, I did not mind the looks and the occasional whistles were inspirational.
On the third day, I decided to try the beach for a couple of hours in the late morning so I walked from the boat in my usual attire, plus a hat and sandals, carrying a towel, book, sunscreen, and a cool drink in a backpack and a small beach blanket in a canvas bag. It was a pleasant walk and although the beach was a bit crowded, it was still easy enough to find a comfortable spot to set up camp. People were friendly and the kids kept themselves occupied with the water and summer games with friends. Stretching out on the blanket over the soft sand and using the towel as a pillow was marvelous and coupled with the smell of the ocean and the sound of the sea birds and children playing, brought back wonderful memories.
After about an hour of flipping from back to front on the blanket, I sat up to look around and noticed a solitary man sitting on a towel not far from me looking out to the water deep in thought but occasionally turning in my direction when his concentration lapsed. At one point, when our eyes met, he smiled and gave a small wave and I returned the gesture. As I said, people here were friendly so having someone smile at me was not unexpected, and since he was a handsome gent, not unwelcome either.
As the temperature rose and the intensity of the sun reached the limit of my sunblock, I walked to the water to cool off while considering a return to the boat for a late breakfast. The water was cool bordering on cold and the speed of my immersion decreased as the water level rose to my abdomen, shrinking my testicles and making my nipples hard and pointy. This slow torture was too much for me so I dove head-first into the small waves and swam around for a few minutes to warm up before walking slowly into the shallow water and back to the beach.
Upon reaching the sand I was met by the fellow who had been sitting on the towel and he greeted me warmly, almost like an old friend, "Hi, I couldn't help but notice you when you went into the water and I admire your bravery for dealing with the change of temperature as you did. The kids are oblivious to it but as you advance from childhood into adulthood it is more difficult to overlook. You might be surprised to see how many people get to their waist and retreat."
I laughed and smiled as I replied, "The thought had crossed my mind but I was sure that people were watching who would enjoy the spectacle of someone giving up against some chilly water. I was afraid that they would make fun of me and that was more embarrassing than letting out a scream underwater during the plunge."
He laughed at my take on the situation and proceeded to introduce himself as Glenn, a teacher from northern New Jersey who had rented a small place for the month of July with a friend. Unfortunately, his friend was called away on business so he was now staying there alone. Glenn said he considered giving up his deposit and scrapping the holiday entirely when he could not find anyone else to share with, but when his friend said that he would still pay his half and try to come later in the month for a week or so, Glenn decided to enjoy some quiet time and took it anyway.
I shared my story and we chatted amicably at the water's edge for about 15 minutes before I mentioned that I wanted to get my tee shirt to protect myself from the sun and started to excuse myself to walk to my blanket. Glenn apologized for keeping me talking so long and said that perhaps he would see me another time. I agreed that it would be nice to meet up again and extended an offer for him to stop by the boat for a drink if he found himself in the marina. He said that he would like that and promised to visit soon before we went our separate ways.
Looking back as I walked away, I noticed that he was watching me intently, seemingly focused on my hips as they gently swayed in the bikini bottoms, so I waved goodbye to let him know that I noticed. He smiled and returned the wave but still did not look away. I smiled to myself as I slowed my pace and accentuated the motion of my hips ever so slightly as I walked on the loose sand.
I gathered up my stuff and had a leisurely walk back to the marina and the comfortable surroundings of the boat. After taking off my tee shirt and putting away the contents of my backpack and beach bag, I prepared a salad for lunch and brought it to the upper deck along with a glass of cold white wine. Relaxing under the Bimini top and looking out over the marina as I ate was soothing and about as good a pastime as I could have imagined. A nice breeze, the smell of the ocean, and the sound of the gulls were a perfect tonic for a city dweller on holiday.
Late in the afternoon, as the day cooled slightly and the poolside bar became livelier, I prepared a Cuba Libre and moved to the aft seating area to do some people-watching and socialize with other owners and guests strolling along the main walkways facing the slips heading to or visiting the various boats. Mixed in this herd of humanity was Glenn, the fellow that I met at the beach earlier who waved as he came to recognize me and the name on the boat. I welcomed him onboard and offered a drink which he gladly accepted.
The groups of wandering people thinned out over time and the music from the poolside bar mixed with the sounds of conversation and sound systems from several of the boats near me. The atmosphere was lively and the people seemed happy as they mixed and mingled along the dock and on the boats. Glenn and I had a friendly conversation that was lubricated by two Cuba Libres and soon became a bit more intimate. He asked about my preference for bikini bottoms and I laughingly answered by mentioning that they are very comfortable and tend to attract some pleasant attention which he acknowledged in the affirmative and added a big grin. "And the attention doesn't bother you?" he asked.
"No, not really," I replied. "If it ever begins to make me uncomfortable, I will remove myself from the situation but so far it has never come to that. Most people tend to be sophisticated enough to live and let live if you know what I mean."
"Yes, I understand," he responded, "and that is one of the reasons why I like the Cape. Everyone has a mellow attitude, and no one takes notice of two men or two women kissing or holding hands. It is a pleasure to be here and far from New Jersey." With this last comment, Glenn got up and walked to the large glass sliding doors that led to the interior space. "I have never been on someone's private yacht before so would you mind showing me around?" he said.
"Not at all," I replied, "but please overlook the messy spaces."
We went into the main salon and dining area before heading down to the staterooms and the spaces below deck. The areas are a little tight and we found ourselves pressed together on several occasions, in one instance Glenn managed to hold the end of one of the cords on my bikini bottom that allowed the knot to come undone exposing one cheek of my butt as it slipped. "Oops, sorry," he said with a smile.
