Kinesics

Hi! The following story initially has been written as a stand alone one, but as usual, I got attached to characters and my mind couldn't stop producing further events :) Anyway, it wouldn't be a longer series, most likely one additional chapter. Let me know in the comments if you would like to see the continuation.

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Oh, she's here again!

That simple thought increased my heart beat by a hundred percent. My knees softened for a moment and I had trouble breathing. The sand under my feet felt suddenly more boggy, as if it was wet concrete, suckling my legs in and trying to stop me. All because of seeing her and consequently, I started to doubt myself. Again.

How will I manage to approach that woman when only the view of her, even from a distance, floods my brain with so many weakening emotions? Damn it!

- Frustration invaded my thoughts full force!

However, at first, I only felt a joy and relief that I was able to spot her again. This encounter gave me a second chance.

After all, I spent yesterday's evening observing her from far away, thinking... or more precisely fighting with a cowardly part of myself, how to approach her, what to say as an opening line. It was something new to me, because I have never had problems picking up women or just speaking with them. Especially on the nude beach.

Maybe I'm not the tallest or the most athletic guy, but I look pretty good, I can be charismatic and... well, let's put this that way, I have nothing to be ashamed of when I'm naked. And in most cases that was enough to chat with girls. Or to seduce them. Even here, on the Black's Beach near San Diego, I had a few interesting 'encounters' of this kind in the past. I liked this beach, it was the nearest nude beach from Los Angeles, where I currently live.

But with this particular woman things were different. She was different. Extraordinary. Maybe even out of my league and definitely out of my comfort zone. And yesterday I wasted, as I initially thought, a lifetime opportunity to meet someone like her. But I guess I'm lucky, because she is here again today. Does the 'save party' & 'load party' option exist in real life? Apparently.

She was standing at the same spot, in the middle of the beach on a little higher ground. Not far from the water in which she already swam, as I could judge by her wet and shiny skin. Similar to yesterday, when I was observing her making impressive distances with a great pace and perfect technique, far, far away from the shore.

The woman was just standing and observing people walking along the shore. As if she was letting them witness the shocking magnificence of her presence. To experience the unbelievable view, which will imprint itself in their minds forever, just like it did in mine. Of course, it was only my interpretation of her motives, she as well could simply enjoy the sun, the sand and beautiful weather. And most likely that was the truth.

But there were no doubts that everybody was looking at her. Not directly and not for long, because no one was bold enough. Nevertheless, every person who passed her by, no matter the gender or age, were gobsmacked at their core and just threw discreet, but frightened glances toward her.

But who could blame them for that? This woman was a one-in-a-lifetime experience. People never before and never after would witness such a view.

She was built like a Greek monument. No! Let me correct myself... Rather, the Greek monument took a futile attempt to look like her body. She was tall, with broad shoulders, a massive back and muscles... huge, defined muscles, which would put to shame the majority of guys who regularly workout. A muscle mass which would be desirable by many professional male bodybuilders. Muscles' size which would definitely put that woman amongst the biggest female bodybuilders, if not on top of them. There was no exaggeration in this, not even one bit. This woman was as big as it was humanly possible.

Because of her shocking muscularity and her wide, immense pectorals without a trace of feminine breasts or any implants, I initially thought that it was a guy with a weird haircut. A guy huge and obsessed with weightlifting. But it took only one glance at her face and especially between her legs, to realize that it was a woman. An alpha specimen of a woman.

Yesterday I checked myself, walking by her from a distance, behind the perfect disguise of sunglasses, lurking discreetly at her private parts.

And that huge woman presented to the world her titan-like sculpted naked body without any bashfulness or embarrassment. Of course, it was a nude beach, so in general people feel more or less comfortable being naked, but she looked so confident and natural that in my eyes, she was taking 'nudity' to the next level.

Once again I was struggling with my thoughts, as I was coming closer to that mysterious woman. I was walking on the higher parts of the beach, slightly behind her range of sight, but the truth was that every step forward became more and more difficult.

No, not this time! I can't chicken out today.

I threw a blanket at the sand and sat down to calm my nerves and gave myself the last chance to think about a potentially brilliant pick up line. But what can be said to women like her? 'Hey, babe, nice guns, wanna hang out?', Please...

Chaotic thoughts began to swirl inside my mind like crazy hornets.

Why do I even want to talk with this woman? I'm not into muscular women, nor ever have been. Toned bodies with defined abs? Bingo! Slightly muscular legs and butts? Yes, sure, sign me in, everyday.

But such a muscle mass on a woman always appeared for me as something unnatural, unattractive or even repulsive. Always until yesterday.

One glance at this real life version of the female Hulk and I was gone, my mind was turned inside out. Something in my brain was completely rearranged. In the blink of an eye, I became truly obsessed with her. As if her powerful energy, radiating around her as if coming from a beacon, demanded my attention. As if her vibe was pointing at me and saying "I command you to look at me. From now on you won't be able to stop thinking about me.'

I just had to get to know her. Or I would beat myself to the end of my days if I didn't even try.

Sink or swim!

- With that thought, I stood up vigorously and started to walk in her direction. I decided to go and start chatting with her, even if my head was completely blurred and empty.

In the worst case I'll just embarrass myself greatly, no big deal, right?

She was still standing like an epic statue, with her face turned towards warm beams of the afternoon sun, unaware of some baffled dude approaching her from behind. As I was slowly closing the distance, more details of her intimidating, massive silhouette began to be noticeable.

Yesterday I had only enough courage to observe from a couple of yards, now my eyes were fixating on the back of her body. Starting with a calf, almost big enough to be someone's head, my sight went higher, glimpsing over the back of her thighs, massive as pillars.

Then the thick and solid glutes, developed to a really impressive size, yet still holding a very feminine shape, were protruding backwards, creating 'a shelf' under her lower back.

Her back though, narrow in the lower parts, began quickly to spread extensively to the sides, as her latissimus dorsi, inhumanly wide and burly, was creating a huge romboidal surface, ending at the top with the slopes of her trapezius muscle, attached from her bowling ball shoulders and almost reaching behind her ears.

I noticed also that she had rather short hair, raven dark in colour, tied tightly in two little braids, which looked like they were glued to the back of her head. I saw once on tv a female boxing bout and one of the fighters had exactly the same hairstyle. This haircut seems to be mostly practical, but I couldn't deny that it looks badass on her.

And I finally had an opportunity to check the giant tattoo she had on her back. I spotted it yesterday, but for obvious reasons couldn't watch it closely.

It was a very detailed image of a huge oriental dragon, with its tail and rear legs starting near her buttocks, a long body and wings waving all around her wide back, up to her right shoulder, where apparently was the rest of this impressive drawing. I was hoping to be able to check it further in a minute. I couldn't help but notice to myself that the artist had a lot of space to work with, considering how huge her back was.

Another thing didn't escape my attention. This tattoo, combined with the almost obscene level of musculature this woman possessed, was making her appearance even more tough, scary and hot at the same time.

And that was it. A few more wobbly steps and I stopped a few feet from a huge frame of female muscles, immovable and unconcerned of me, maybe even unaware of my sudden appearance. I opened my mouth in order to say something, but yet again forgot my tongue. To my surprise I heard:

"Quite a view, huh?" She said this with a low, but pleasant and feminine voice. Her face was still facing the ocean and she didn't even honour me with a single glance. For now I only could observe her noble profile.

Her question caught me off guard, not only because she apparently noticed my 'stealth' approach and the fact that she spoke first, but also by her timbre. For some reason I expected that her voice would be really deep and thunderous, at least baritone, possibly even bass. Yet her voice, although still on the deeper spectrum, was fitting her appearance very well, smooth and calm, but at the same time imperial.

Also what she exactly said threw me off the tracks slightly, because those simple words had at least two potential meanings. First, an innocent chit chat intro, as if she just casually asked about the view of the seashore. Secondly, it was more tricky for me, because it could obviously refer to her body and what would be even worse - a hint that she knew that I was observing her. This second perspective sent a cold shiver down my spine, a mixture of anxiety of being caught

in flagranti

staring and a weird excitement for the same reason! But because she left me an opening, I was able to recompose myself and answer.

"Indeed, sunsets at this time of the year are really beautiful." I knew that it was an extremely cliché phrase and it wasn't even sunset time yet, for god's sake, but it was the best I could come with. She responded to it with a soft, barely hearable chuckle, but still didn't look at me. Test passed or failed?

I took two more steps and lifted my hand towards her. "By the way, I'm Roy"

Finally, I've got her attention. She slowly turned to me and looked down at my waiting hand. And down at me, because getting so close to her, made me realize how tall this woman was. With my not so impressive five feet seven she was towering over me by at least 6 inches. I assumed her height was at least six feet one or maybe even two. But only god knew how heavier she was than me, assuming that her hypermuscular body must have weighed over two hundred pounds, easily, if not more. About sixty pounds more than me.

The woman took a seemingly never ending appraisal, until she reached her massive arm and closed her hand on mine in a firm handshake. Surprisingly, she didn't crush my bones and force me to my knees, as I stupidly imagined earlier. But feeling her grip I was sure that she definitely could do that. Her palm was really big, much bigger than mine, the skin inside was a bit tough. This was the hand of a hard working person. And yeah, on her enormous right shoulder was the rest of the dragon tattoo, it's head and opened jaw. It looked very realistic, almost as if this creature was peeking from behind her back.

"Tamara." She said casually with a soft smirk. I looked directly at her, trying to examine her face without staring rudely. On a first impression - she was older than me, somewhere near 35 years old. Her face didn't show much of her age, it was more like she had a more mature energy. No makeup visible, not surprising at all, considering that we were on the beach and she was swimming, but I had a hunch that she was not the type of woman who wears tons of cosmetics on her face. If she wears them at all.

She had really interesting features, making her pretty, but not in an obvious, ostentatious way. There was a resemblance to the young Linda Hamilton, from her role in the first parts of Terminator, but with all respect for that actress, Tamara was prettier. She had fuller lips, longer eyelashes, better proportions of the face and beautiful green eyes, with little yellowish 'flames' around her pupils. On her right cheek was a little, flat and dark mole, although it only made her look even more interesting. It made her face imperfectly perfect.

But the biggest similarity to Linda's or more to Sarah Connor's face was, her expression? Vibe? Aura? I don't know what to call it, but the woman, right now towering above me, had the same tough, stern type of beauty. Unapproachable, cold, merciless. Albeit Sarah Connor was a fictional character and her toughness was only script and acting, Tamara was real.

She was a tough and dangerous woman, I immediately became convinced of that. It wasn't an impression, it wasn't a feeling - no, it was a fact, I was sure of it. And I had several reasons to think that way.

Obviously - her monstrous muscle mass, a body so huge that it almost screamed of its power. I felt like a shrimp next to her. Looking for another analogy from the cinematography, Tamara was like a female version of The Mountain from The Game of Thrones. I just hoped that it wouldn't leave me as Oberyn Martell in that equation.

This woman was packed with muscles from head to toe. As she was now standing frontally to me, her silhouette looked even more imposing and overpowering. I could see how wide were her shoulders, with huge spherical deltoids. Lower, her enormous arms were hanging freely, with biceps so big that they were creating noticeable peaks, even despite being completely relaxed. Earlier I would say that she had a flat chest, because she had no implants, so popular amongst female bodybuilders as far I knew, or natural breasts, but it would be a big understatement. Her pectoral muscles, wide, thick square plates of flesh, were jutting out forward for a couple of inches. I could bet that Tamara had trouble seeing her own feet because of that massive muscular bust. Below that were the most developed cobblestone-like abdominal muscles I've ever seen. Big protruding cubes, tightly packed one onto another. Looking impenetrable like a vault door.

And at last, oh boy, Tamara definitely hadn't been skipping 'leg days'. Her thighs were huge like barrels, seemingly hard like concrete pillars.

That body wasn't only for show, its power was undeniable.

Secondly, even more unsettling and confirming that my thesis about Tamara's toughness was real, were her scars! She had many in several places and few of them indicated that this woman had a really dark past.

Starting from her face, two arched thin lines were clearly visible below her eyebrows. The marks of an experienced brawler... Of course, it could be possible that in the past Tamara was hit accidentally by, for example, a door, twice, but the rest of her scars were telling the opposite. On her swollen chest was a prominent bright line, running across both pectorals, almost from the right collarbone, down to the lower part of the left pec. For sure, it wasn't a scar from a surgery or some stupid extravagant scarification made in a tattoo or piercing saloon. Also it was difficult to imagine the accident which could cause such a wound. I would cut off my hand to bet that Tamara was stabbed and cut with a knife or some other weapon. A bayonet? Thinking of it gave me chills. This had to be a nearly deadly wound. I wondered if her dense and thick muscles saved her life...

And as if it wasn't enough, on her right shoulder, partially covered by the tattoo, was small, round hollows. Similar marks were on her right thigh. Undoubtedly they were old gunshot wounds.

Lastly, the most intimidating and simply scary. It was her energy, her attitude and overall look. A threatening calmness and stoicism, combined with a glint of dangerous intelligence in her eyes. Those muscles weren't built in some fancy, popular gym and solely for bodybuilding purposes. They were practical. They were tools. Built during deadly workouts, hardened and proven during fights. Of course, to first achieve and then maintain such an extreme muscle mass, Tamara had to lift weights, but I couldn't picture her training with colorful dumbbells, amongst regular gym rookies and Instagram influencers. I couldn't imagine her on the stage, flexing muscles in some tiny bikini. The more fitting concept was her lifting some crazy stuff, like barrels, tractor tires or huge logs, in the wilderness or a desolated barn in the mountains, like Rocky before his fight with Drago. Or crawling through the mud and jumping over obstacles like Demi Moore in G.I.Jane. And I thought that it was a correct deduction - that Tamara served in the military, police or some other law enforcement. Or as a mercenary or even a hitman.

Tamara looked like a person whose determination, patience or mercy should not be challenged. I was nearly sure, especially seeing her scars and those monstrous muscles, that she was capable of severely hurting someone physically or even killing. And I had a strong suspicion that she had done this in the past. My imagination was drawing up visions of Tamara knocking out someone with ease, with her big hard fists. Or her beating someone to a bloody pulp, hardly breaking a sweat. Or her huge biceps viciously cutting someone's breath in a deadly anaconda grip, holding the victim until it is unconscious or dead. Also, her massive palms grabbing and breaking someone's neck like a stick...

I just wanted to hold on to the naive hope that people she potentially hurt were criminals or terrorists. And she did that while honoring the protect and serve maxim.

"So... Roy... what's a guy like you looking for on the nude beach?" Tamara's smooth voice woke me up a little. Again her question wasn't one dimensional, it had layers. Casual on the surface, but sneaky underneath. I barely noticed how quickly she took control over our conversation.

Her green eyes stopped piercing mine for a moment and she shamelessly checked my body from head to toe. I noticed that she looked directly at my dick, but her calm, still expression didn't change a bit. Maybe only her eyes slightly widened, but it could be my imagination. My size didn't impress her? That was something new, I was used to more expressive reactions from women.

"Oh, I just like it, you know, that freedom and nothing between the skin, sun or water." I decided to play a little innocent to start. "And it's kind of fascinating to see people without, let's call it, masks, behaving more freely and honestly."

"Hmm... So are you interested in psychology, Roy? You come to the nude beach to observe people, to see how they behave when they can't hide behind clothes?" And again her second question contained a small provocation. She didn't put any accent on the word "observe", but I felt that it was meant for me, as a kind of note, basically saying: 'Hey, I know that you were staring at me'.

"Not only because of that, the nice thing is that I can always meet someone interesting." I answered hoping that it would make her smile, but Tamara's face was adamantly indifferent. Only her thick lips were shaped in an indistinct smirk, but not as a reaction to my words. Seeing that I added furthermore. "But yes, I'm interested in psychology, I actually study it and try to specialize in kinesics."