"I like your car! It would suit me," I said, as I got out of mine. She was surprised I said something and I could see her thinking.
"Thank you," she said, still making her assessment. Ours were the only two cars in the parking lot.
"It seems to have plenty of room. Be good to go camping in."
"Yes, it is," she said, not quite committed to talking. She looked at my ute.
"What's wrong with your ute?" she asked.
"Nothing, except that it's thirsty, yours would be much cheaper to run and more ecologically responsible."
"Ah, yes!"
"Do your front seats lay back?" I asked, "It would save putting up a tent if they do."
"I think so."
"Sleeping in a car is more secure than a tent."
"Yes. It would be," she said, as she put her elbows up on the roof of her car and supported her face in her hands.
"I'm thinking of changing cars." I told her, "But don't know what I should get." She walked around to the nearer side of her car and leaned against it. We were both starting to open up a little. She was attractive with blonde hair, beautiful teeth that were surrounded by a generous smile and eyes that seemed very perceptive. She had her towel in her hand and I thought there might also be bathers.
"I chose the car because of its color," she laughed. "Now I like it for so many other reasons. I like the way it drives, especially past petrol stations!"
"Yes. I can imagine." I had my bathers and towel in my hand and planned to put them on when she left.
"It's cheaper all round,' I said, "Less registration, less insurance, less petrol, three cylinders instead of six means less for servicing, less for tyres- it all adds up." I began to wonder what to do to get changed. Mostly people changed beside their cars. It wasn't a problem as so few people came to this beach. She was fidgeting with her towel too and I suspected we had the same problem. I started undoing the buttons on my shirt. She watched. I took my shirt off. I could see her thinking.
"The ute must be very useful sometimes," she said, as though announcing her intention to stay and watch.
"Yes," I said, as I wiped my hand over my chest, wondering if I should proceed. "I use it a lot." I wrapped the towel around my waist. She watched. Somehow she seemed disappointed.
"What do you use it for?" She turned and put her bathers on the roof of her car.
"Last week I cut down a tree and carted the wood home." I put my hands under the towel and hooked my thumbs under the elastic.
"Mmmm," she said, "Wood?" as she put the towel on top of her car with her bathers.
"Yes, wood," I said as I pulled my pants down.
"I like wood," she said, as she reached behind under her shirt and unclipped her bra. I watched as she pulled it out through the sleeves and put it on the roof of her car. She grinned at me for a fleeting moment.
"Yes," I agreed, "It's about ecology, isn't it?" I hunted for my bathers, the breeze had blown them off the ute's roof.
"Yes, and wood is a rare thing to find," she said as she wrapped the towel around her body. I watched as she tried to pull her shirt up from underneath the towel. It wasn't working so she loosened the towel. She looked at my towel and could see changes taking place.
"I guess you're right," I agreed, "There's so much plastic around now it's lovely to see something natural." I stooped to pick up my bathers and as I did a zephyr of breeze caught and blew them under the ute, just out of reach. I straightened up.
"Yes," she said, still trying to pull the shirt out from under the towel, "Natural things feel good too!" It was awkward. Somehow, to get down and retrieve them from under the ute would be very undignified. She watched as the length under my towel grew.
"Yes, wood is very underrated I suspect."
"Not with me," she said, I rate it very highly." She stopped trying to pull her shirt out from under the towel. She took the towel off. The shirt was over large and hid what lay underneath it.
"That's good," I said, as I looked down and wondered where my bathers were.
"It's better than good, I love it!" She started undoing the buttons on her shirt. Her eyes were watching mine as though challenging me to watch.
"What do you love about it?" I asked. She let her shirt drop off her shoulders. One breast was exposed, it lay on her chest comfortably, the areola large, a deep, dusky pink which contrasted with her skin and the nipple pointed at me, like a mortar ready to fire a round.
"Everything." She plucked the shirt off her other breast and allowed it to fall.
"That's very broad," I replied. My eyes were fixed on her breasts; their symmetry was too fascinating not to look at. She stood for a moment, comfortable and not hurrying.
"Oh yes, thin, thick, long, short, it's all interesting." She reached for her bikini top and her breasts hung, free of her chest for a moment. She watched me carefully. Tacitly she was indicating it was my turn.
I got down onto my hands and knees and looked under the ute. My bathers had blown towards the front, the front wheel was in the way. I stood up again. She tied the bikini string at the back of her neck. The cups appeared to be far too high and too small to contain her breasts.
"I guess it's more about variety than a matter of taste," I said. She reached behind her and tied the other string. I was tempted to ask if she needed help but thought better of it. As she was tying her bikini her eyes settled on my towel, at the length under it, erect- hard, long and pulsing.
"It's about both," she said, "Taste is important." She licked her upper lip as she pulled a cup of the bikini top down and with her other hand settled in a breast. She repeated the process on the other side.
"I guess you're right." The cups of the bikini were small and the flesh of her breasts spilled out around them.
