through me, and which the bath upstairs
had barely made a dent in. The wine from earlier was kicking in, though. In the
mirrors that lined the deck around the tubs, I could see a faint flush in my
paler-than-normal cheeks.
Seven people were already in the least occupied tub, none of them
paying me any mind as I approached. Three of the women were topless, I could
see, all of them older than me. I couldn’t tell what the three men were wearing
beneath the swirling water. A younger woman wore a modest one-piece, lying back
alone where the others looked like couples, talking and laughing quietly among
themselves.
I took a minute to unfold and refold my towel at the bench
adjacent, as I felt the attack of self-consciousness that I’d known would hit
me. D___ and I had always hot-tubbed whenever we stayed at hotels. He liked to
pick out which bikini I’d wear, rubbing my belly lightly under the water while
I floated to put my breasts on display for him. Though I’m not an exhibitionist
by nature, I confess that I used to get a little thrill when he showed me off.
One of those things that I would do for him, but which I’d never really done
for myself.
I needed that thrill for myself, I knew. I needed to feel it for
me.
I slipped the robe off casually, feeling the moist warmth of the
air against my body. My heart was beating quickly, which I knew was ridiculous
even as it made me smile.
This is good. This is what you need.
I took a moment to fold my robe and place it on the bench next to
the towel. I took a deep breath as I kicked off my sandals and turned around,
and I felt silly when I realized that I was expecting all eyes to be on me. This
was totally natural, I told myself. This was what it was supposed to be like,
just being myself. Not showing off for him but being comfortable in my own
skin.
Quite literally.
I was smiling again as I slipped into the water.
Whether it was the wine or whether the presence of other people
simply made it harder to feel sorry for myself, I quickly felt the tension and
the worry of the previous days begin to slip away. The water was perfectly
sultry, not so hot that I felt the need to hop out every few minutes.
The older couples were doing so, and showing me from the corner
of my half-closed eyes that the three men were as naked as their partners. Even
beyond them being too old for me, though, I felt no compulsion to take a longer
look. With all that happened since D___ walked out, including our last bout of
angry sex two days before the final fight that pushed him away, I was about as
far from feeling lascivious as I could possibly be. From where I was at, it
would be a long walk to even feel social.
Thankfully, the others in the tub all kept to themselves, no one
even greeting me where I pushed off to one side and slipped down beneath the
water. Thinking about it, I supposed that must be a kind of common courtesy during
clothing-optional hours, where it would be far too easy to mistake polite friendliness
for a come-on. That all worked just fine for me, though. As much as I was
feeling better for having the company of other people, I was happy to still be essentially
alone.
Where I rested against the padded edge of the tub, I had closed
my eyes. As I felt myself drifting away, deliciously sleepy and drained of all
worry, I felt a leg brush up against mine.
When D___ and I used to tub together, he always kept me close at
his side, making sure I was pressed to him. Even as he liked other guys to
look, I guess he had a strict no touching policy. It thus felt even stranger
than expected to feel this contact — and then to realize as the contact
continued that it wasn’t just random chance.
This wasn’t someone bumping into me and quickly pulling away.
Someone was running a foot gently up my leg, toe-walking along my outer thigh.
I opened my eyes. The woman in the white one-piece had shifted
around to sit across from me. She smiled as her small foot gently rubbed my
naked
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