It Was an Itsy-Bitsy Teenie-Weenie...

This is my contribution to the National Nude Day contest.

The way I see it, we need more Maeves in our society. Happy bareness!

Oh yes, for the record, sigh, everybody here is of legal age. Of course.

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Brazen.

That was the word, Maeve thought, right out of some ancient Greek story like The Odyssey -- a 'brazen' sky. She smiled a little, thinking that her English teacher, Mrs Pensey, would be pleased by her remembering.

Her smile didn't last too long, for

this

sky was beyond hot. It lay like a low, searing bronze lid over the town, the oven-like temperatures scarcely relieved by the odd feeble twitch of stale, dusty breeze. Air conditioners across the region wheezed in failing attempts to keep up. The demand had become so high that the electrical system was struggling and consumers had been warned of possible rolling service interruptions to avoid a complete collapse. Records weren't being broken - not quite - but the last time it had been this hot for this long had been almost a century ago. People moved noticeably slower outside, speeding up as they neared buildings known to be cool inside. There were reports of families sleeping overnight in their cars to take advantage of vehicle air conditioners and the town council had activated an emergency cooling plan for the poor and elderly, with cots being set up in local gyms and arenas. Tempers were fraying and, after a couple of spectacular brawls in parks and bars, the police had announced an increased presence on the north-east end of town.

Maeve, wearing just panties, groaned in frustration as she tried again to adjust the sweep of the fan sitting on the floor in front of her. Irritatingly, the fan refused to be set to aim in just one direction; it insisted on swinging back and forth, leaving her swaying from side to side in a futile effort to stay in the cooler air stream. It wasn't that much of a fan in any case; her parents had passed it to her when they got a larger one. Air conditioning was not on the cards in this household.

Maeve lifted her heavy breasts to cool the sweat-soaked crease beneath them. The fan responded by dying altogether, its blades gradually slowing to an infuriating halt. She reached for the switch, played with it, moaning in frustration when it refused to so much as groan in apology.

Angrily, she stomped down the hall to her parents' bedroom. Her mother was at work and her father out of town for the week on a freight run to Florida -- they could share for an hour.

As she entered the curtained bedroom, she flicked at the light switch. The lights stayed off. She fiddled with the switch a couple of times before realizing that the power must be out. She swore a most unladylike oath, then doubled down when her phone down the hall started ringing.

"Maeve?" It was her BFF Tanya, known to close friends as The Pix. "Have you got power?"

"No such luck. It just went out."

"Damn it, girl, what are we going to do? I'm dying over here."

"Cold showers?"

"Not funny."

"The mall?"

"I can see it from my place. Power's out there, too. People are leaving and they're not letting anyone back in. How about the Memorial Pool?"

"It'd be crowded." Maeve said, then paused. "But, wait. They still have those spray coolers, right?"

"Did last week. And it's an adults-only timeslot. No freaky kids screaming."

"OK, then."

"You should wear that new bikini you bought," The Pix giggled. "The yellow spotted one."

"You're kidding, right?" Maeve hadn't adjusted to the thought of being seen in public wearing the abbreviated outfit. "Anyway, I didn't buy it --

you

bought it for me on a dare."

"Which,"

The Pix snickered, "you didn't refuse at the time."

"You never asked."

"OK," The Pix said -- and Maeve could

hear

the grin over the phone -- "I'm asking - daring - you now!"

She had Maeve hooked -- and both girls knew it.

"So, um, what would you be wearing?" she dodged.

"Something appropriate..." Tanya dodged back.

"Well," OK," Maeve said. "I'm too hot to argue. Pick me up in 15? Mom's taken the car to work."

"Can't. My brother took ours up to the hills to go camping."

"That means walking like 12 blocks in this heat, Pix."

"It's that or melt, Maeve. I'll see you there at 2, sharp." Not giving Maeve time to reply, the girl hung up.

Maeve took the bikini out of her drawer, still in the store bag. As she looked at the scraps of bright fabric in her hands, she felt a stirring inside her, a sense of excitement, like a child stealing peaches from a neighbor's orchard.

She peeled off her damp panties, letting them fall to the floor. Tying the side ties of the g-string bottom, she slid it up her legs and over her bottom. The triangle, while covering her sex completely, was no bigger than her palm.

The ties, of course, covered nothing.

At least there isn't a camel-toe,

she thought, looking at herself in the mirror.

She tried the top on next. The small triangles of cloth just barely covered her and her nipples were obvious despite the thin padding. She put her hands under her breasts and hefted them, adjusting the fit. Turning back and forth in front of her mirror, she frowned and slipped out of the garment to readjust a tie. Putting it back on, she turned back and forth, smiled wickedly in spite of herself.

Damn, but that looks hot!

Maeve considered a fashionable pair of sandals but reconsidered when she realized how thin the soles were and opted for a pair of sneakers. She slipped a thin, knee-length sundress over the bikini and found a broad straw hat. Even so, by the time she reached the pool, her feet were burning and she had perspired enough that she looked as if she had been dipped in baby oil. Her small bag, containing little more than sun-screen, a towel and a bottle of water, seemed to weigh a ton in the heat.

Finally, she reached the shady entranceway and pushed a bill through the till at the cashier before moving through into the pool area. On her way, she pulled her sun dress over her shoulders, feeling the hot sun on her back and legs.

Only then did her problems really start. From inside the office came a thin, annoyed voice.

"You can't wear that here! Put something on that's respectable."

Emerging from his burrow was McGregor, the pool supervisor, a gaunt, grey, sour man. Rumour had it that he'd once smiled at his mother, but few believed it. His normally choleric disposition had not been improved by the heat. As Maeve watched, a drop of sweat trickled off his forehead and oozed down through his eyebrow. The girl watched its progress as it entered his right eye. McGregor winced and rubbed it with a forefinger.

"You heard me," he said.

"What?" Maeve said, looking down at herself. "Why not? Everything's covered, isn't it?"

"Look, missy, I run the pool for the town. One of my jobs is to keep things orderly here. And I'm saying that swimsuit isn't acceptable dress."

"So, you won't let me in wearing this? You won't let me go swimming? In this heat?"

"No way." The old man shook his head.

"But I walked 12 blocks to get here!" the girl wailed.

"Should've considered the dress code first."

"What dress code? The sign just talks about showering and spitting."

"Common sense, young lady."

"Please?"

"No. Not with that suit on."

The frustration boiled out of Maeve. "Fine, then. You won't let me in with it, then I'll go without it!"

The girl could hear The Pix giggle behind her, but was angry enough to carry through with her threat. Given the nature of the suit, it took only a couple of seconds to pull the ties and step clear of the falling cloth.

McGregor's eyes bulged in astonishment.

Maeve had never considered herself centrefold material, but what she had, she now bared with flaming, righteous indignation. Covered in perspiration and flushed with anger, she blazed like a Celtic warrior princess before battle. She stomped her foot in anger, sending her breasts bobbing in the hot sun.

"Come on!" she shouted. "Throw me out now!" She snatched up her suit from the ground and made as if to step around the befuddled pool manager.

McGregor started to reach for her, then paused. Maeve could almost read his mind --

Wrestling a naked 18-year-old girl in public. Not a good image...

He jerked back his hand as if it had been burned.

"I'll have you thrown out!"

"By who?"

McGregor paused for a second. "The lifeguards," he said.

"Walter?" She chuckled and swiveled her head around to look at the sunburned boy melting on the high chair under the broiling sun. "I don't think so." She waved at him. The boy's flushed skin wasn't entirely due to the sun. He pretended to be watching swimmers already in the pool, but she could see his eyes bulging out as they were drawn to her form.

Walter was one of the most common topics of discussion among half of Maeve's schoolmates. It was the solid consensus among the female students that Walter was just about the best-looking boy in town. Tall, graceful, with a baritone voice and eyes as blue as his hair was black, he could have had a date with any girl there by merely raising an eyebrow. Some of her peers, Maeve knew, had taken up swimming just to be able to ogle the young man's sculpted form on his lifeguard chair.

Sadly for Walter - and his distaff classmates - he was painfully, devastatingly shy with women, to the point some girls had questioned his orientation. Maeve was in the larger, more hopeful camp, the ones who felt he was merely socially awkward and could be 'helped'. In any case, she was pretty sure she was safe from being evicted by the shy young man.

The other lifeguard was Tiffany, even smaller than The Pix; Maeve wasn't much worried about her, either.

"I'll call the police!" McGregor threatened.

"Go for it," Maeve snorted. "I think they've got better things to do."

Mr. McGregor looked around for support. Instead, he saw another couple shedding swimsuits. The woman sat down with her feet in the water and watched Maeve; the man dived into the water before surfacing and, treading water, watching the drama unfolding. Both were smiling broadly. The woman's breasts showed no tan lines -- could it be they did this all the time?

As Maeve watched, water from the cooling spray collected on another man's chest and slowly trickled down to his groin. The girl watched it for a second, awaiting its inevitable fall from...

Maeve had a sudden inspiration, something she'd read web-surfing only the day before. She shook her head to shake the image of the man across from her and broke into a brilliant smile.

"After all, Mr. McGregor," she beamed. "It's National Nude Day. Progress never stops."

"What?" the man almost screamed. "National

what

Day? There's no such thing!"

"Certainly there is," Maeve grinned. "You can google it, Mr McGregor. It's a national celebration." To emphasize her point, she arched her back, thrusting her bare breasts up and forward at the dazed caretaker.

Behind her, she could hear the sounds of other people starting to laugh and from somewhere came a supporting whistle. McGregor had never been well-liked and it was too hot for rulebooks. More people started taking off their clothes.

"Come on, Pix," she snorted.

The Pix had already doffed her bikini. Pushing between the others, she handed it to McGregor in passing. The old man looked at the handful of colorful fabric in disbelief then dropped it as if it were toxic. He spun around and almost sprinted away. The sound of his office door slamming echoed across the pool. A moment later, he exited and headed for the parking lot. His car left seconds later, spraying gravel as it went.

Maeve dropped her suit and bag on a chair, stepped up onto the low board and dove into the pool with a clean forward pike. She was surprised at the delicious feel of cool water on areas which had never felt bare swimming before.

I was made for this!

she realized with delight.

She was still more surprised when her head surfaced. Every person in the crowded pool was applauding her.

Except Walter.

With nudity breaking out all around him, Walter wasn't quite sure where to look. His eyes locked on The Pix, all five feet of her, topped with short red hair, and with, as the saying goes, a rug matching the drapes. The Pix caught him looking at her and pointedly blew him a kiss. Walter blushed and his eyes darted away, almost in panic. But he couldn't look away from the increasingly-unclad bodies in the pool, for watching was his job.

The boy's growing panic was almost palpable.

Pretend we're on the Net, Walter,

Maeve snickered to herself.

I'm sure you've looked at boobies on your phone!

Then she had a better idea.

Waiting until Tiffany was occupied, she slipped under the water in front of Walter's chair, then emerged with a loud spash.

"Cramp!" she yelled, before allowing herself to sink back under the water.

Walter's training kicked in and he was off his perch in a clean dive. Two stokes had him up to Maeve. He got too close; the girl grabbed him. There was a brief wrestling match, which Walter of course won, but in the process, Maeve had his swim trunks down around his ankles.

In desperation, Walter kicked them off without thinking and, breaking loose from Maeve's grasp, towed her efficiently to the side.

"Don't panic!" he called. "You're safe! I've got you!" Right out of the book.

Maeve smiled to herself despite the discomfort of being towed.

Who's got who?

she thought.

OK, whom?

Walter reached around and pulled her to the edge, putting both hands on the concrete rim. It was only then that he realized he was missing something. He looked frantically around for a way out. Maeve cut him off by taking both hands off the edge, grabbing Walter's head and turning him in towards hers. Leaning forward, she began a long, sensuous kiss, tongue sweeping inside his lips.

In his panic, Walter let go to push her away, only to cause both of them to slide under the surface of the water. He reached back with one hand, using the other in a vain attempt to free his face. Maeve was relentless and, almost without realizing it, his lips opened and Walter had his very first kiss.

Her tongue slipped inside his mouth and licked back and forth. Unsurprisingly, even in the cold water, Maeve felt him react under the surface. She pulled back, grinning at him as their heads broke into the air.

"Thank you for saving me, Walter," she smiled, as beguilingly as she could. "I might have drowned."

Walter's free hand left her face and wrapped around her waist to hold her. "It's OK," he said huskily. "I think you would've made it."

"But I still have a cramp, Walter," she breathed, her nose only six inches from his. She deliberately opened her eyes as wide as possible.

"The book says to massage the cramp," he said. Again, he paused. He was uncomfortably (OK, delightedly but still uncomfortably) aware of Maeve's substantial bosom pressing against his chest and knew, beyond the ghost of a doubt, that his rubbing her bare leg out on the pool deck would have him hard as a rock.

Without his trunks.

In public.

"It's so hot by the pool," she said, batting her eyes, "Isn't there a room out of the sun or something?"

It was about as transparent as,

Come up to my room and see my etchings,

but Walter wasn't thinking as well as he might.

They climbed out and Maeve managed to fake a creditable limp. Scooping her up in his arms, Walter headed for the small first aid room between the change rooms. He got a round of applause for his rescue from the (now mostly bare) spectators. Most were so busy applauding that they overlooked his half-hard member. Maeve merely leaned her head on his shoulder.

It was an odd feeling, she thought, his strong arms carrying her. She hadn't been carried like that since she was a little girl. It felt comforting and exciting at the same time.

The Pix gave her a wink and a quick thumbs-up as they passed.

Passing Tiffany, Walter called to her to cover for a couple of minutes and kicked the door open, carrying the bare girl inside. Maeve had never been in the room before but was unsurprised to see it was fairly bare except for a glass-fronted cabinet full of bandages and a cloth-covered exam table. A spine board and stretcher hung off hooks mounted on the wall. A telephone was mounted on the wall next to a list of emergency numbers. It was pleasantly cool and dim, with the only light coming from a row of windows high up on one wall.

"OK," he said, standing her back up and trying to sound professional, "Lie down on the table, please."

Having the boy thoroughly off-balance by now, Maeve decided to press her advantage. Holding his forearm with one hand, she hopped on one foot towards the table. His eyes popped as he watched her hefty breasts sway and bounce.

"Help me, Walter!" she cried, leaning towards him. Flustered and hardly thinking, his strong hands grabbed her -- as she had planned -- by her bum. There was a split-second pause before he shifted his grip to her waist. Gingerly, he helped her get up on the table.

She rolled over on her stomach. "It's my right calf," she said.

Walter paused. "I thought it was your left," he said, puzzled.

Oops!

"No, it's my right," she whispered. "Please! It really hurts."

Gallantly, the boy began to stroke her right calf. Maeve smiled to herself, her face hidden. She wiggled her bum, just a little, and could feel his stare. His hands stopped, then restarted, more slowly now. She eased her legs apart, giving her victim a much better view of her lady bits. His hands stopped altogether.

A slight poke on her flank told her everything she needed to know. Guided by that, her hand reached out and grasped something every bit as impressive as she had been hoping.

"Hey!" he blurted. He tried to back away, but risked leaving behind important parts in her firm grip.

Maintaining her grasp on him, Maeve rolled over and sat up, smiling sweetly.

"Walter," she murmured, "I'll let go the instant you tell me a second time. But you and I both know that you don't want me to."

Her free hand reached out, took one of his and brought it slowly, gently towards her breast. While he didn't exactly cooperate, he didn't resist either. She stopped just short, relaxed her grip on his wrist.

"You're strong and sweet and really good-looking, Walter," she whispered. "Isn't it about time you let yourself try?"

His eyes flipped to lock with hers. She released his manhood, cupped her breasts and lifted them towards him as an offering.

"Go ahead, Walter," she said, almost inaudibly. "They're made for boys as well as babies, you know."

She reached up, took his head and slowly pulled it down to hers before whispering into the boy's ear, "I want you, Walter. Kiss me. Please."

She felt his hands close on her breasts, carefully squeezing and lifting them. Deep within her, a fire began to glow.

His lips touched hers, tentatively at first. She ran her tongue across them. After a moment, his mouth opened and the tip of his own tongue swept lightly across hers.

Still holding his head, she pulled their mouths apart. "That feels very good, hon. Don't stop, please." She pulled him back in for a longer, stronger kiss. Their tongues wrapped around each other. She felt his hardness twitch against her leg as his hands explored her boobs.

He's so sweet!

she thought to herself.

So cute.

She reached down, grasped his length, began to stroke it. The angle was wrong, but he was breathing heavier with each movement.

She ran her other hand up behind his balls, stroked the back of his sack with one finger. His hands on her breasts tightened, relaxed, continued to move. He thumbed her now painfully hard nipples and Maeve felt herself becoming wet.