It was the second weekend of the first Covid lockdown, and the weather was surprisingly warm for April. So, I took advantage of it and went for my daily exercise walk around the local field in a mid-thigh jean skirt and bikini top.
Both showed off my young, curvaceous body to the sun, a welcome start to what was otherwise a worrying and uncertain time.
I was eighteen and the college was closed. My mother was a key worker, and my father left the family home some years ago, so I was home alone during the days of lockdown.
As a virgin, it felt exciting and naughty going out for a walk in a bikini top. My mother was fairly liberal with my clothing tastes, but even she would have been shocked seeing me wearing something so risquΓ© for a leisurely walk around the local fields and woods. She would have definitely made me cover up my generous bust if she had been home.
She would have been right to, when the handful of dog walkers I encountered all looked at me differently.
The three women I passed on the route said 'hello', but each cast me a look of disgust. Their reactions made me a little self-conscious.
The two men I passed grinned lecherously and slowed their steps down. The first guy commented on what a 'lovely day' it was, whilst staring at my breasts. The second guy looked me up and down while he grinned, before saying 'hello' to my breasts.
Those men erased the self-consciousness the women created. Seeing the lusty delight in their eyes aroused me.
I eventually reached the only bench on the route and pulled a packet of Marlboro menthol cigarettes out of my back pocket, before sitting down.
Soaking up the sun, as I put a cigarette between my lips, I didn't notice him watching me at first. It wasn't until I lit the cigarette, drew the cool, minty, satisfying tobacco smoke into my body that I noticed him.
Crossing my legs, with my hand holding the cigarette resting on my knee, I exhaled a steady stream of smoke and felt a tingle up my spine.
The man was sitting in the grass on the edge of the woods with his top off, sunbathing. He was probably twenty metres or so in front of me, as I sat on the side of the path facing him.
He looked handsome, probably late twenties, early thirties with a shaven head. I could see he had two tattoos on either side of his chest, but he was too far away for me to see what they were.
I took a deep drag from the cigarette and looked the other way. But knowing he noticed me had me looking back at him when I exhaled.
Ohhhhhh, Shit! I thought, when he stood up with a can of something in his hand, picked up a plastic carrier bag, holding something heavy, and started walking towards me. I guessed he was drinking alcohol.
The next drag I took was a long, nervous one. I uncrossed my legs, inhaled, then closed my legs tightly together as I exhaled and fidgeted, anticipating his arrival.
"Are you waiting for anyone?" he asked, a few metres away from me.
He was about five-nine, toned with muscle definition. The tattoos were of a compass on his right toned pec, and some kind of military tattoo on his left pec.
"No," I muttered, then took a drag from the cigarette.
"Could I bum a smoke off ya?" His gaze lingered at my chest before he looked me up and down. "You can throw it to me if you're scared I might have Covid," he chuckled.
I smiled at that. "Sure, but they're menthol," I told him, throwing him the packet. "The lighter is inside the pack."
"A smoke is a smoke," he smiled, catching the cigarettes. "Do you mind if I join you?" I'll sit the other end of the bench. It looks roughly two metres apart," he chuckled again.
"Be my guest," I smiled shyly. "You've touched the packet and the lighter anyway, so it's a bit late to worry about Covid," I reminded him of the rules, although I was breaking them myself. We both laughed.
"That's true. I guess I should just sit next to you then," he grinned at me, and then my breasts before he put a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. He looked so hot and masculine, even with an all-white menthol cigarette in his hand.
He then exhaled, put the lighter back inside the packet and threw it so it dropped lightly into my lap.
"I'm only joking. I'll sit on the end. I don't want to scare you. I just came out here for a few beers in the sun. What's your name? I'm Joe by the way," he introduced himself, sitting down on the bench.
"Pippa," I replied shyly, then took a drag, leaving me with half a cigarette left.
"Nice to meet you, Pippa. Do you fancy a beer?" he offered, throwing an empty can in the bin beside the bench.
"No thanks," I blushed, feeling his friendly politeness whilst detecting a dangerous chemistry developing.
"Don't be shy," he grinned, putting the cigarette between his lips before dipping both his hands inside the carrier bag.
The sight of his strong arms turned me to mush, but he was too old for me.
"You're more than welcome to have one," he grinned, with the smouldering cigarette bouncing up and down between his lips as he spoke.
Joe produced a can of Stella Artois and I took it from him. "Thanks," I blushed, reluctantly taking the can, hoping he hadn't noticed me checking him out.
With a fresh drink of his own, we opened our cans of Stella and sat in public view drinking and smoking. I repeatedly scanned the path for anyone who might see us. Social distancing or not, we were in serious breach of the Covid police.
I finished my cigarette, stubbed it out and then sat chatting with Joe whilst I drank from the can.
He was such a sweet guy. He told me he recently left the military and was going to work abroad doing some sort of personal security job. It sounded exciting and kind of James Bond style. But he didn't share any experiences deeply.
I then told him about myself, but I hadn't lived much of a life yet, so I talked about college and how I one day hoped to become a fashion designer. Joe was impressed, telling me I'd design sexy clothes judging by what I was wearing.
Blushing, as his sexy green eyes sparkled at me during his compliments, I wished I wasn't a virgin, and I had the confidence of some of my friends to take him back home to my bed. I sensed he was thinking something similar.
One can of Stella soon led to another and I was tipsy. Then inevitably, a couple of dog walkers appeared on the horizon.
"What are you doing?" Joe chuckled, when I put the opened second can down on the bench to leave.
"There are people coming," I told him. "I don't want to get into trouble."
Joe waved it off. "Pick up your can and follow me," he smiled.
"Follow you where?" I giggled.