“You could swim in your undies. No different than a bikini.” Leon pointed to a group of girls who were doing just that. “But not if it would make you uncomfortable.”
“I wouldn’t be uncomfortable.” Lie. Big lie.
Leon stripped down to his underwear, then pretended not to watch while I peeled off my jeans and slipped Livy’s top over my head. My heart blasted out of my chest while I just stood there smiling at him, in my bra and panties. I didn’t even own a bikini. One-pieces were the only bathing suits allowed in my family.
But my new underwear looked like a bikini. Gertie was the one who had convinced me to buy the set. Between my discount and thesale price, I’d paid only four dollars and fifty cents for a yellow floral Maidenform with matching panties.
I had to keep myself from staring at the four young boys sitting on a rocky ledge. They couldn’t have been older than fourteen or fifteen, all nude. One boy, a clean-cut who had yet to grow facial hair, had his mouth hanging open and, like Johnny, was quite happy to be there. So was the boy next to him. All four sets of eyes were fixated on the bare breasts in the pond. The big ones, the little ones, the pointy ones. There were floppy boobs and firm boobs, large brown nipples and tiny pink ones. I smiled to myself, thinking about the variety of breasts in the world.
We stepped across the pebbles toward the pond. As soon as my feet touched the icy water, I flinched but resisted the urge to complain. A group of naked guys and girls in a canoe waved at us as they passed. The same person who had handed Livy a bar of soap handed one to me. I dipped my muddy clothes in the water, then rubbed the soap across my jeans and top. Leon did the same.
As soon as we were done, he waded out of the lake and placed each piece of our clothing on a boulder to dry. While his back was turned, I stared him down, weakening at the sight of wet underwear clinging to his butt cheeks.
Once he had waded back in the pond, we took turns scrubbing down our bodies with soap. Lots of people were washing their hair. Leon swam over to a girl and asked to borrow a squirt of her shampoo. He held up his hand and sidestroked it over to me.
First, he put a little on his own head; then he dumped the rest on mine. Only he didn’t remove his hands. He lathered it for me. With his smiling eyes resting on mine, I lathered his, too, all the while experiencing ...euphoria.
Was this Boy Beautiful, the one I’d met by chance on the road to Woodstock, really washing my hair? And I his? As if his fingertips against my scalp didn’t feel good enough, add to that the fact that they were his, and I could have sworn I was on fire.
“Did you buy that at your fancy department store?” he said,staringdown at my cleavage. It was small, compared to some I had seen that day, but he didn’t seem to mind. He traced his fingertip along the lacy edge of my bra, making every pore on my body squeal with pleasure.
“As a matter of fact, I did.” With my toes squished into the pond’s muddy bottom, I gloated in the irony. I’d have never bought a pretty lingerie set if I hadn’t worked at Goldsmith’s. Here I’d spent the summer hating my job, having no idea of the ecstasy that lay just around the corner.
We dunked under the water at the same time to rinse off the shampoo. When I came up for air, my bra strap dangled from my shoulder. Leon traced my tan line with his finger, then pushed the strap back up. “I thought all you did was work and read this summer,” he said.
“That’s all I did.”
He gave me a wry grin. “Liar.”
I leaned toward him. “I’m not lying! I live in the South. Everybody gets a suntan.”
He looked down at his chest. His torso shone bright pink from walking without a shirt the day before, but he had no suntan. “Maybe I need to come for a visit. Do you guys have a swimming pool?”
“I wish!” I said. “I swim at our club. I was on the swim team in high school.”
“Is that so?” Leon tilted his head to the side, squinting one eye. “What’s your best stroke?”
“I’d say . . . butterfly.”
“What is it with you and butterflies?”
“Nothing! I’ve never thought about butterflies this much in my life.”
“I thought you’d say breaststroke.” He took his time tickling the top of my breast.
I let him. It felt so,sogood.
He turned around and propped me on his back. I wrapped my arms and legs around him. Holding tightly to my calves, he strolled us through the pond.
“Does this hurt your sunburn?” I asked, feeling his muttonchop sideburns against my cheek. He smelled nice and clean.
“Nah, the water’s helping. But thanks for asking.”
Six more nudists, holding on to one another’s shoulders in a straight line, passed us by, singing, “‘Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.’”
Willing myself not to gawk, I just gave them a quick glance.
Until that second, I’d forgotten all about Livy. I hadn’t known—or cared—about her whereabouts. But the nude singers brought her to mind. Fun. Carefree.Naked.
