"I guess, yeah. I grew up with two brothers, and I'm still more girl-crazy than they ever were," I admitted. Then I laughed. "You should see old photos of me from senior year of high school, when I came out. In every single one I'm wearing a skimpy t-shirt with a midriff 'cuz I thought it would make me sexy. Thank god I didn't grow up in Oklahoma or something, or else I'd have been forced to spend my formative years drowning in a school-issued modesty poncho."
Christine snorted.
"But it's not like I'd behave anything less than ladylike," I concluded, batting my eyelids.
"Mmm hmm," muttered Christine, taking sufficient time to express amused disbelief as she perused the cocktail list. "I'll take my chances," she added.
The truth was, I haven't always been very ladylike.
By the time I got to college and met girls that I could actually have sex with, I reinvented myself in a whirlwind of experimentation that still leaves me dizzy to think about. Some of those girls went the straight route and now had so-callled traditional families. Some, like me, figured out who they were and never turned back. Some of them, such as Cynthia, I even still see once in a while at Meow Mondays for 2-for-1 drinks over at a lesbian bar called The Garden of Eves. I won't say that she hasn't occasionally made it back to my apartment in the wee hours of the morning for a wild little trip down memory lane, so to speak.
With Cynthia, though, it always ended on a melancholy note. She would wake me up in the morning, having raided my music library, with the sudden cacophony of "Pour Some Sugar On Me." I'd look over and see that she poured herself a little hair of the dog, extracted from my private stash of top-shelf bourbon. She seemed to not want to let go of the rush of the previous night, as if afraid to return to reality. I felt like I was just some circumstantial part of her depressing escape from real life. I'd lay there watching the jackhammering of her thumbs upon the brightly lit screen of her phone, accentuating the odd silence of an internally raving lunatic who was incensed by the early morning texts of some jealous lover that I had temporarily replaced.
How strange it is that in the moment of passion one feels so close to another and then, suddenly, so far away...
But I digress. Christine and Liana were different; my best friends. They knew plenty about my innermost desires, but I had also worked hard to give them the security that they weren't aimed at them. There was a part of me still so badly bruised from the disaster with Rachel that I was sure I would never cross a line with either one. Or so I had to keep reassuring myself.
With the weekend spa day confirmed, I just couldn't decide if I should be terrified of a repeat of history or thrilled to be on the verge of having a fantasy fulfilled, and it haunted me right up until the day arrived.
***
Yeah, yeah, okay, my wicked side won out.
By the time our spa day rolled around, I had successfully permitted myself to experience the full range of positive emotions surrounding the upcoming event. This was thanks to the late-night realization that if the trip were to never happen, I would regret it for the rest of my life. "Who wants to live with grief like that?" I asked myself, latching onto a deep satisfaction that blocked any further protests from the angel on my shoulder. Still, the moment I reached the spa, a creeping nervousness began to take root...
"Hey! I'm so ready for this!" Christine exclaimed upon seeing me.
"Yeah! I haven't been to a spa in forever," Liana added.
Admittedly, I was surprised. Both Christine and Liana appeared to be unfazed by the task that now lay before them. We headed inside and made our way to the desk to check in. Before long, the young woman there was reminding us that, "no clothing of any kind is permitted in the gender-segregated part of the spa, accessible though the locker room."
Christine and Liana stood there alert and motionless, with all activity confined to their heads. I watched their faces curiously. What they were thinking was a complete mystery to me.
"Okay, this way," I said, taking the lead and gesturing toward the locker room. Somehow I felt that the roles were reversed and that I needed to step up my display of confidence in our naked agenda for the morning.
We ducked into the womens' locker room together, winding our way through a maze of lockers, examining the numbers arranged throughout each alcove to determine which section was ours. Now and then we encountered a woman coming or going in a towel, not quite in a state of undress but close enough to remind us what we were about to do. At last I discovered the block of slim metallic lockers that contained the ones assigned to us, arranged adjacently to one another. They were so tightly packed that it became it awkward to determine exactly where one could safely stand. The long wooden bench didn't help, crowding us together in a small gap between it and the minuscule spaces to deposit our clothing.
"Would it kill them to make the lockers a little wider?" I commented, deciding to make idle chit-chat in the hope that it would relax any unseen tensions about removing our clothing in front of each other.
"Seriously!" exclaimed Christine.
"Do they not have slippers or anything?" asked Liana, as she removed her sneakers and glanced inside the locker.
As I listened to my friends continue to discuss their surroundings, I proceeded slowly, slipping off my jeans and folding them carefully as I stood sandwiched between the two of them in my panties. They seemed to let me take the lead, following the exact order of my ritualistic undressing moments behind each action I took. Anxiously, I advanced toward the final barrier between friends who knew each other very well, and friends who knew each other VERY well.
"Oh, that's such a pretty bra!" Liana remarked, spotting Christine's lacy purple underwear.
"Thanks! I got it on clearance at 'La Femme Mystérieuse' with a few others."
"Wait. Where is that again? Upper East Side somewhere?"
"Yeah it's right on Madison, but way up near ninety-sixth."
I lingered silently there, listening to their banter, fully conscious of the fact that my next move was to bare my breasts. No time seemed to right time to do it. I imagined them abruptly pausing their conversation, startled by the sight of my body. "Why do I feel more anxious than they do?" I asked myself.
I decided that their chatter was just a way of distracting them from fear, but deep down I was startled by the fact that I seemed inexplicably the most self-conscious. I wondered what they'd think of my body, how they'd react, if they'd find it attractive. Somehow I began to worry that to them this was no different than taking a shower with the other girls after gym class during our school days; days when seeing my friends naked meant a lot more to me, and I felt trapped having to keep that a secret.
"They have a sample sale next week by the way," I chimed in. "Their lace cheekies are normally like... I don't even know. But it's ridiculous unless you're getting seventy-five percent off."
"Oh wow, okay," Liana said, her eyes lighting up with anticipation.
I felt comfortable hiding behind a mundane discussion, so I abruptly went for it and unclasped my own bra. I found myself casually trying to decipher how they reacted to the spirited animation of my freed breasts. They glanced at them then looked away awkwardly, saying nothing. Strangely, it hurt, as if I was irrationally expecting them to demonstrate a visible attraction to my body.
The moment of truth had arrived and it was time for them to cross the same divide as I had just done. I watched their movements out of the corner of my eye as I bent slightly forward and slipped my panties down my legs. I caught sight of alluring movements to my left and right as they commenced shedding all support from their upper bodies. I burned with a desire to look but took my time, reminding myself of the risks of showing eagerness.
When I stood back up, I discovered them silently reaching for their panties, then collecting themselves as if they were about to rip off a band-aid and shooting them down to the floor in unison. At last we faced each other with nothing left to hide behind and no secrets left to hold from each other. I see naked women all th
e time, but there's something different about seeing your close friends getting naked. It was strange, intimidating, and arousing all at the same time. As if helpless with curiosity, they both finally relented, giving a casual glance down at my boobs, and then further down below, as I did toward them.
We stood in a line, silently aware of the blunt display of our swelling chests. I wanted to laugh. I couldn't help but imagine their nipples were those shiny red buttons that one has the urge to touch and press despite the clear warnings against. I knew exactly what everyone was stalling on in that moment. The strange sensation of having seen a person a thousand and one times, and yet here you were really seeing each other for the very first time, with such a degree of intimacy that they might as well have each grown an entirely new body.
As if trying to fill the brief pause between us, Liana spoke up. "So where do we go now?"
"Um, I think somewhere back there?" Christine said, peering past the lockers.
While they pondered our next step, I traversed the strange, new landscapes before me. Christine's chest bloomed proudly, as if with a confidence all its own. Her breasts were perfectly spherical. Her puffy areolas reached outward as if offering up her nipples, blushing with a deeper pink. These stood in contrast to Liana's more petite breasts and brownish nipples. They were small and round, possessing a gentle dip, and distinctly paler than the medium-brown tones of her body. They stood out with a precise perkiness, appearing to me like forbidden fruit.
Looking closer, I noticed a small, dark freckle that stood out centimeters from Liana's alert nipple, like a comet circling a planet. Their bodies were, in fact, a constellation of wonders. I felt like I had read about each of them as a child. One was the beautiful nymph Callisto that Zeus fell in love with, and who was placed in the sky as Ursa Major. The other was Andromeda, unchained and saved from certain death to fulfill her destiny of glittering in the heavens.
Their grooming habits were, I have to say, not the least bit surprising. Christine rocked a carefully manicured landing strip without a single hair out of place. It shot downward, square and straight, until it slipped tantalizingly into the pursed mouth of her luscious delta. As far as pussies go, it was absolutely alluring in its consciously designed exactness.
Liana, on the other hand, demonstrated the opposite kind of transcendence; that sweet, uninstructed innocence that lends itself to a solid muff such as hers. The incidental rapture of her unruly pubic hair splayed outward in all directions from the mysterious, shadowy depths of her womanhood. A mystery I'd have given the world for, just for the chance to explore its secrets with tenderness and affection.
To say that I was aroused by the confiding nature of our shared nudity would be an understatement. I was sick with desire, but also sick with fear of the door we had opened, and what absolute dissatisfaction it would lead to as I developed a craving for more than I could ever hope to experience with them. I felt myself regressing to that innocent, youthful moment with Rachel, as I stood there awkwardly comparing our hairy crotches, feeling a whole world of desire opening up to me.
"Ash?" Christine asked, snapping me out of my trance. They both stared at me.
"Oh, um. It's back there," I said, quickly pointing back through the locker room.
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's do this!" Christine cheered, rallying us together excitedly.
I lingered back behind my friends for a moment. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered about as I watched them turn and step gingerly through the locker room, side by side, celebrating the freedom and stark bareness of their bodies together. Christine's long, beautiful hair trailed down the full length of her back, whipping left and right like an excited feline's tail. I listened to the soft slap of their feet against the hard floor. I found myself absorbed in their softly swaying pair of buttocks. The clean line of their deep cracks accentuated the roundness of their behinds; each cheek shooting upward as they took their steps in close unison, followed by a joyful little bounce as they see-sawed in the opposite direction.
They looked perfectly innocent, pure, and ravishing. Two absolute spectacles of feminine beauty. A celebration of two different types of bodies-- both unique, both lovely... both equally frustrating for me to quietly observe from the sad recesses of my endlessly yearning mind.
Like a kid approaching the gate to Disneyland... or maybe the gates of heaven, the giant, frosted glass door approached, beyond which clothing of any kind was expressly forbidden.
It swung open to present a landscape of indulgences; hot tubs, different kinds of saunas, massage rooms, and the like. First, however, was the mandatory visit to a small bank of individual shower stalls. I took charge, teaching my friends how the ritual was done. We each ducked into a stall. I heard the plumbing rattle, hiss, and come alive in the showers next to mine, as Christine and Liana joyfully explored the different options, from an overheard rain shower to the sideways jets that left no part of the body untouched.
"Oh my god, try the jasmine one!" I heard Christine shout over the low wall of the next stall, in reference to the small range of scented shower gels on a metal rack beside the shower knobs.
When we'd finished slathering our skin with cheap, overly-scented products, my friends and I regrouped to towel off our slippery wet bodies and then set forth into the main section of the facility.
As we strolled through the spa, I felt that same schizophrenic feeling rising in me. I can't be around such a wide array of beautiful, diverse bodies without my attention flitting from one to the next, secretly devouring the secrets of their femininity with a relentlessly obsessive curiosity. It's not simply an erotic gaze, mind you. I make endless observances about how the women carry themselves, guessing how much they're worth or what kind of job they hold. I remind myself how superficial I'm being and have to stop the endless flow of awkward thoughts that make me even creep myself out.
Christine, Liana, and I stepped into the first whirlpool. Together we sunk into the wide tile basin softly bubbling away like a witch's cauldron. A young woman was already there, sitting across from us with soft green eyes. She quietly observed us for a few moments.
"Oh my god - yes, that feels so right," Christine groaned. Liana giggled.
I let out a long sigh and relaxed into it. "Yep. Don't need to move from this spot. Ever," I remarked.
Christine gazed down at the wavering image of her body beneath the water, splitting into wandering trails of soft, rosy patterns of flesh and white tangles of clustering bubbles. Her body continued to melt into a state of repose, letting it all comfortably hang out. There was no shame there. She flung her arms out to the side, resting them on the edge of the whirlpool, her chest pressed forward and her head thrown back, eying the steam meandering by the bright ceiling lights like a swirling milky way.
Liana, who hadn't yet opened up to the experience, added, "So are the pools different temperatures then?"
Confronted by the widespread nudity outside of the close circle of her familiar friends, I noticed Liana's shyness suddenly reemerge. She appeared fully conscious of the way certain parts of her body were loosely wobbling about in front of complete strangers. I could sense how self-critical she was in her own skin. It made me uncomfortable. I always wanted to tell her how beautiful I thought she was, but I kept my mouth shut. She sat there, her arms curled around her legs, tucking her small breasts behind them as if afraid to permit anyone's delight in the dark, stiffened nubs which stood out prominently from her goosebumped flesh.
"I think so, right Ash?"
I nodded. "And there's one for cooling down at the end."
Christine started to bob her foot in front of her until her toes peeked out of the water.
"What color is that?" Liana asked curiously, eying her toenail polish.
"Oh, it's called 'ultraviolet'..."
Distracted, I saw that the girl across from us had begun to turn as red as a lobster and slowly rose from the water. She hesitated there, as if enrobing herself in the steam swirling a
round her body. Tuning my friends out momentarily, I discreetly analyzed her, as if studying a complex diagram of an organism in a textbook. Her petite, apple-shaped breasts tipped with smooth pink nipples dramatically indicated the sudden temperature differential. The sexy little dimple of her bellybutton seemed to curl like the hollow of a polished nautilus. A smooth gradient of stubble was slowly returning to her shaven vulva; subtle hair which drifted inward toward a delicate pink labia sweetly folding in upon itself.
The girl stepped out of the whirlpool and began to dot herself with a towel as three Asian girls approached. They stepped inside, with intimately hairy bodies, alternating between stocky and lithe, their breasts heavily swaying and shiny with perspiration as they settled in together beautifully, like the Three Graces.
I snapped back to reality. "Yeah, that's pretty standard. But their pedicures are twice the price, and they're so worth it," Christine was saying.
I found myself intrigued by the way they casually compared notes about their bodies. For the next several minutes I continued this ritual of climatizing myself to their naked forms, as well as to the jarring sight of unfamiliar nude bodies strolling casually by the long bank of hot tubs. Some of them, like me, communicated things; a subtle desire to be watched and to enjoy the attention of peers. Others were perfectly, adorably innocent in their newfound nakedness, making every effort to seem comfortable but tensing up at the slightest and most casual glance. I felt overwhelmed by the parade of bare flesh, every distinct permutation, every unique pair of breasts and grooming style of their lady bits.
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