Early morning on March 31 and Clare was not the only person in the magnificent resort swimming area. While running miles in the morning, she had seen the interlocking pools from Olympic length to wading pools, hot tubs to diving pools, all separated by rectangular marble columns about eight feet high and concrete aprons holding the chairs, lounges, tables and sun-bathers. Occasionally, Clare snuck in to complete a mile of swimming before the paying guests were awake to complain about a trespasser.
She saw a blond surrounded by four well-developed men in small swim trunks. She held court with a long cigarette holder in her hand and a floppy straw hat on her head. The woman had generous curves but a stingy waist, her glowing rich tan on display under a dark bikini and even darker sunglasses. The four men were at each point of the compass around her. She had to twist to address each in turn, a maneuver that challenged the elastic capacity of her swim suit.
Clare was still recovering from the brutal rejection of her longtime boyfriend. He no longer loved her. He found her too skinny. He didn't say so, but Clare knew he wanted a woman with substantial breasts, wide hips, and a fleshy behind. Not a wisp of smoke like Clare. His rejection was the reason Clare had cut her rich dark hair short, had begun to run and to swim. Her figure had improved, but no one told her so. So she continued to exercise to lose the person she had been.
Clare noticed a maid who swooped to the table and chairs behind those five people. With a swift arm motion, she picked up a cell phone, an entry key and a small wallet, and concealed them in a tote she carried on her wrist. She swiftly headed for the gated entrance to the garden, unnoticed by her victim.
Clare pushed off from the wall and churned across the pool. Her powerful kicks attracted the notice of the five who watched as she plowed the water. Her long, thin leg came out of the water and she pushed herself into a standing position and began to run. Her skin-tight one-piece suit rose high at the hips. She ran with the grace and speed of a cheetah, her long legs fully extended. As she ran, her suit rode up the crack in her ass. She didn't stop although she knew that her velocity and her partial nudity drew every eye in the area.
Before the maid could open the metal gate, Clare caught her and grabbed the small bag. The maid wrenched back ferociously, but Clare held on. The maid used her free arm to scratch Clare's face but Clare held on. The woman grabbed the strap over Clare's shoulder and pulled until it ripped off her left breast. Clare's breast was nicely formed but small, and she was often embarrassed by their size. Not today, though. She thought only of preventing the theft. The maid spat at Clare, hitting her in the face, then surrendered her bag. Cursing, she escaped through the gate.
An wrinkled gardener in a wide-brimmed straw hat offered Clare a towel to clean her face. He smiled, and his browned hands with long fingernails gently repositioned her strap to restore her dignity. That didn't work, but Clare was able to readjust her suit so that her ass was less exposed. Two of the men in small bathing trunks had caught up with Clare and helped steady her.
She gave the bag to the men. She heard the sound of applause from people who were awake that early and had seen her actions. She felt embarrassed because of the attention, and because her racing suit felt so small on her body. Every muscle, bone, wrinkle, and bulge were barely concealed by the thin fabric. The two men shooed the gardener away, who bowed to Clare as he left. They guided her back to the woman with the sunglasses, who looked over her cigarette holder. Up close, her hips seemed incredibly wide, like those of a fertility goddess. The man with the bag showed her what had almost been stolen -- her wallet, her bungalow key, her cell phone. The woman sniffed, as if the things had a bad odor.
"I think she was trying to rob you."
"You saved me a lot of trouble. That would have been my third iPhone X lost this month. My husband would not be pleased." She took a deep breath of cigarette, and expelled it upwards.
When she noticed Clare's ripped suit, she tossed a large white fluffy towel to her. Clare nodded her thanks, and wrapped herself from her armpits to her thighs. The woman motioned for Clare to take a seat, and Clare reluctantly settled in a chair.
"Lucky for me you are an athletic young thing. Thank you. You must allow me to pay for your swim suit. And pay for your stay here. I won't take no for an answer."
Clare blushed. "I'm not staying here. If they catch me, they'll have me arrested for trespassing."
The woman considered this for a moment. "Not any more. You will be my guest." She gave a look to one of her four young men, who understood. He trotted off to arrange for Clare's accommodations at the spa.
"I can't let you do that. I just reacted. Your thanks is enough."
"Nonsense. I'm Mrs. Nicholas Sampson. He owns a majority share of this resort. You can call me Lu -- short for Lucille. You are now my guest...."
"Clare." They shook hands.
Clare recognized the name Nicholas Sampson. Who wouldn't know the name of one of the ten richest men in the world? But Lu looked too young to be married to Nicholas Sampson, a man in his seventies, if not older. Lu was only a few years older than Clare, who was only 23. But when Clare looked at Lu, she saw a woman of power, charisma and intense sensuality.
"You can close your mouth now, Clare. I'm the current Mrs. Sampson, and I plan to be the last Mrs. Sampson. I think we should start by getting you a new bikini."
"Thank you, but I don't like bikinis. I can't swim laps. I better just be going."
"Nonsense! You are my guest. I think we can have some fun this weekend." Lu leered at each of the four horsemen in turn. Clare's mouth fell open again.
Clare leaned forward. "Your husband trusts you around these muscle-bound clumps of testosterone?"
"He firmly believes they're gay. I promote that deception, for my own enjoyment. As you might imagine."
"So, you mean you've never...?"
"Oh, my, yes. We have. Many, many, many, many times. But no one speaks of it for fear that they might be discharged."
"No cameras, private detectives, tape recorders that might trip you up?"
Lu winked at her. "Only my own, my dear. Anyway, once a year I have a get out of jail free card. I use it on April Fool's. In fact, it's only good on April Fool's Day."
"That's tomorrow. I think I'd rather have your magic card than a bikini, if you don't mind."
"No reason you can't have both." Lu stood up, lifted her cigarette holder, and one of the men lit the end for her.
"I'm listening." Clare glanced at the men's cobblestone abs, hoping to use a get-out-of-jail-free card to know them better.
"Let's get you a suit first, Clare. Timothy will show you to your room." Lu nodded to the man who had arranged a suite for her. Another large strapping fellow, whose thighs were the most muscular of all of the four men, walked ahead, his calf muscles tightened to the point they were ready to burst narrowing to impossibly thin ankles. He had the physique of a Russian ballet dancer. Clare resisted the urge to rip off the rest of her swim suit and tackle him on the pathway.
Clare's bungalow suite was on the first floor, not far from the pools or the garden. She had a full view of the premises. Lu pointed out her own suite across the way, and Nicholas Sampson's private area, located on the third floor with a large lanai overlooking the resort. Lu showed Clare the bedrooms, the lounging area, the dining area, and both bath rooms. The one located off her bedroom was equipped with a rainforest spa, a misting area, and a hot tub.
"I'll order you some breakfast. Take your time. I'll be back later." Lu and her four horsemen left. Clare flopped down on the kingsized bed and pinched herself. She couldn't believe her luck.
About noon, Clare answered the knock on her suite door wearing a fluffy white robe embossed with the spa's name over her left breast. Lu was at the door, still smoking, still wearing her straw hat and sunglasses, still accompanied by her four guards. She wore a diaphanous cover-up which did little to conceal her love-goddess curves.
Lu swept into the foyer of the large suite, followed by the four men, each carrying bags and boxes from upscale stores. Their purchases covered the couches and chairs. They stood with their legs spread and their arms behind their back, at ease. Clare was not at ease with four men waiting for her to give them a fashion show.
"Don't be shy, dear. They've seen it all, believe me." The men stood at each of the four corners of the large room, their eyes straight ahead, their lips a thin line. Lu ruffled through some intimate lingerie, allowing them to glide across her hands.
"I'll try them on in the bedroom. You can stay out here."
Lu shook her head at Clare's modesty. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, my dear. But, suit yourself." Lu sat down in one of the armchairs, and crossed one leg over the other, letting it swing wildly back and forth. The men's eyes stared straight ahead.
Clare took several boxes into the bedroom. She opened the first, then a second and a third. She was shocked and embarrassed by the quality of the fabrics, the mastery of the sewing, the brilliance of the colors. The undergarments felt sinfully smooth against her skin. She tried on an outfit and it fit perfectly. It lay smoothly against her slim body, flattering her figure. Her dark helmet of short hair made her feel like a model. She turned her head from side to side, surprised at the beautiful young woman reflected in her mirror, and tears started down her cheeks. She didn't deserve any of these clothes.
There was a knock on her bedroom door. Lu called in, "Nicky wants to meet us for lunch by the pool."
"'Nicky'?" Clare called back.
"My husband. We shouldn't keep him waiting. Now put on one of the suits and let's go."
Clare looked around and found three tiny bags, the kind that sometimes carried earrings or bracelets. "I can't find one."
Lu let herself in, picked up the three miniscule bags and extracted three balls of string from each. She tossed the lime green one to Clare. "I thought this would go well with your fair skin tone."
