Putting the bikini on was the hardest part. Robin had saved money for two months, forsaking movies, fast food, shoes and that expensive shampoo she liked, and afterward she was convinced no goal was too lofty if she put her mind to it. And yet, here she stood in a strange hotel room with dingy walls and a malfunctioning TV, holding the string bikini in her hands, and her hands trembled.
"Robin, did you bring your purple eyeliner?" Carmen asked, as she stood naked digging in her purse. "I think black will be too, you know, goth before the sun goes down."
Walking from the taxi was what did it, down two blocks along the oceanfront. The street was packed with thousands of college kids, none of them wearing more than they had to. Each boy was an Adonis, each girl a Venus, one set after another of perfect tits and hair, perfect tans, swimsuits hugging perfectly and exposing perfectly. This was not Robin's world. Playing the cocktease could be fun on a Friday night after the football game, fumbling in backseats and guest rooms in Boise, Idaho, but that was nothing compared to what she had already seen since arriving here, and all she'd done was traverse that part of the globe from the airport to this room.
"I'm gonna wear this blue one of yours, Brenda," said Kari, topless but still wearing shorts, white socks and loafers. "With the five pounds I lost this month, my red one's too big."
Robin held the top against her bosom and looked in the mirror above the sink. She wore a lime green baby doll T-shirt, but even that wasn't really her style. It pulled at her boobs, making the wire in her bra poke through in a line. The other girls sometimes chided her for not spending the extra cash on Victoria's Secret paraphernalia, what's called the "seamless" or "invisible" or something. There was just no getting around, however, that Robin was more comfortable in sweater sets, blouses, golf shirts, in short, loose-fitting. "Invisible" bras were for girls who deliberately shrunk their shirts. That would never be her.
"Sure, Kari," Brenda answered. "Unfortunately, I can probably fit into yours." She already had the red top's flimsy spaghetti straps on her shoulders.
Not that Robin had anything against the shrunk-shirt crowd. When a girl has something to show off, she should, but Robin looked at the world a little more intensely. She was beautiful, yes, she had an athletic figure and superb breasts, even her ankles made boys hot, but that was precisely why she didn't flaunt it. Robin had the looks, she had the brains, and above all, she had the self-confidence. What motive could there be for her to put it out there for every boy? She certainly didn't want EVERY boy, just the good ones, and even those boys should work for it.
Or so she told herself. Now, here, at Panama City Beach with her girlfriends from the "shrunk-shirt crowd," her self-confidence seemed to have abandoned her. But she wouldn't allow it, she would not. Robin pulled her t-shirt off, unhooked her bra and tossed it carelessly on the bed, unzipped her capris and pulled her white cotton briefs down with them, then forced herself to look in the mirror once again. There she was, at last, Rockin' Robin, the pretty girl with intelligent eyes. Gorgeous clothed, gorgeous naked, gorgeous speaking or silent. She slipped into the string bikini, orange with no pattern, a magnificent color for her not-too-pale Iberian skin and wavy brown hair.
Then she looked in the mirror, and the anxiety returned. The tummy she thought flat back in Boise now threatened to pooch... or was that just her imagination? No pooch, she decided, just anxiety in her stomach.
"They'll all stare at me," she said to her reflection. She tried to force her hands down, but they wanted to cover her body, to hide her, and she let them.
"You say something, Rob?" Carmen said.
"No," Robin stated.
Kari smacked Robin's ass. "You look fucking hot, girl."
Carmen grabbed Robin's tits. "I'd do ya," she said with a grin.
Robin grinned back. "Cut it out."
Brenda pulled the string on Carmen's back, and her top fell open. "See how you like being molested," she giggled.
"You know I love it," cooed Carmen, shoving her bare tits in Brenda's face. Brenda laughed. She grabbed at Brenda's body in a playful way, moaning and lusting with cartoonish hyperbole. Then suddenly Carmen's nipple was in Brenda's mouth, and the room turned quiet. No one would deny the compelling eroticism of the friends' embrace, fondling one another, shiny with sunblock from head to toe.
Kari ran her fingers through Robin's hair, an intense look in her eyes. "Wanna have some fun?" she whispered seductively.
The sudden change in tone hit Robin like a knife to the gut, like a betrayal. Kari had been her best friend for ten years, ever since they were little girls in grade school. Throughout that time they played with sex the way boys play with a father's gun hidden under the bed, knowing the act lies somewhere between harmless and lethal. Kari always played harder – she was, in the final analysis, hornier in general – but neither intended to give up on fantasies of good old-fashioned American romance, with the husband and kids and Barbie's pink Dream Trans-Am. The two girls met Brenda and Carmen in junior high, and a year later, all four helped each other masturbate at a late night sleepover in Kari's basement. The next day the girls pretended they enjoyed the adventure, but Robin could tell they were unsettled. The husband, kids and Trans-Am were too important to throw away on a night of uncomfortable fun.
And so, when they decided as freshmen in college (Kari and Robin at UC Berkeley, Brenda and Carmen at Boston College) to take the trip to Florida together for a week of debauchery, alcohol and anonymous sex, it was almost inevitable they'd breach the subject of lesbian rampaging. Kari told Robin how Carmen first suggested it on the phone, and Robin could tell the idea still made Kari nervous. For Robin, it was more than that. The grade school fondlings with Kari had left a bad taste in Robin's mouth, and with each escalation over the years, that taste had grown more sour. She loved these girls deeply, passionately, but not in that way, and she resented being forced to explain it. Things would be different if any of them were truly in love with girls, but they weren't, and that was the honest truth. Hello? Husband, kids, Trans-Am? Ring a bell, ladies?
Robin pulled her hand away. "No," she said too softly for Kari to hear. "No," she repeated, and all four looked up at her. She hadn't meant to cause a scene, or to make anyone feel foolish or upset. "I'm not ready," Robin admitted, then added, "yet," although that was a lie.
She had no intention of jumping into an orgy with these friends. The more she thought about the situation, the more honest she grew... She had no intention of jumping in bed with ANYONE this week. A little debauchery and alcohol sounded fine, but random sex wasn't her style. Backseat teasings in Boise had been fun, as a break from the boredom, but she had known all those boys for years, and some of them she really loved. It was no secret among the girlfriends that she'd been the least promiscuous at university.
