ANGELA 016

ANGELA 016
It wasn’t in there. I couldn’t find it. I was under a pier on a public beach with my tits out, and had nothing to cover them. I was going to have to wear my shirt after all — and because the shirt was slightly sheer and the sun was strong, I’d probably have to wear my goddamned bra, too.

I turned back to my pile of clothes and saw Parker standing in front of me, dressed in his board shorts. He’d just come around the pylon, apparently having no idea where I’d gone. He was holding my swimsuit top, which he must have grabbed by mistake.

He was looking right at me. Right at me.

I wanted to cover up. I should have turned away, or at least crossed my arms over my chest. But for some reason, I was frozen. I was only wearing bottoms, with everything from my flat belly to my wind-tousled dark-brown hair bare for him to see.

“Your suit,” he mumbled, raising the top in his hand.

I still hadn’t moved. He’d given me two seconds of courtesy, but he’d moved his eyes down since and was staring directly at my bare breasts. They were Bs — a bit smaller than I wanted, but cute enough, I thought, in the mirror.

I found I enjoyed the feel of his eyes on them.

Damn me and my shame; I didn’t want him to stop taking me in. And worse: in those few seconds, I very much wanted him to reach out and touch me. A twisted timeline spooled across my vision, and in a blink I saw us in the sand, his hands everywhere, me not as frigid as he thought but instead quite willing, quite ready, quite —

“I’m sorry.” He shoved the top into my hand, finally turning away.

Shame descended. I took the top and pulled it on.

We picked up our gear. Parker left the pier’s shade first. I followed at a distance of a dozen steps, my skin hotter than the sun might suggest.

It wasn’t just Parker’s embarrassing attention that bothered me so much. It was also what I’d seen in his eyes. The horrid realization that in those few seconds, he’d wanted me — and I’d wanted him right back.

We walked on in silence, a hot mix of emotions churning inside me. Shocked, disbelieving, aroused. I wanted to hide my face and run.

Parker led the way, his mouth set, his hands hiding a protrusion in his shorts.

It was a half hour before I found the strength to speak again.