A bespoke story and a stand-alone tale, but following the others in the series. It is unnecessary to have read those, but the following might be useful. Tyson, a young bodybuilder and aspiring poet, was posing as a model for a sketching class run one summer by Gale, a fine arts professor. She and her three students, Tammy, Quinn and Heather, became entranced by him and an open, lusty relationship quickly developed involving all five of them. In the end though, it was Tammy to whom Tyson was most drawn and, for the purposes of this tale, it is Tammy who has won his heart.
This is also my entry for the 2024 Nude Day event. Please enjoy.
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Tammy
Step back a bit...
I'd always gotten along well with Olivia, my mother-in-law. She'd been a rock to cling to when our Charlie had died in a climbing accident.
I hadn't tried to keep it from her that I'd rented the empty basement apartment in my house to a young student. After meeting Tyson, Olivia had been impressed with how well he got along with Danny and Ariel, my children. His kind, gentle nature had won their trust almost from the first. That he seemed to openly enjoy taking them — us, I mean — to the zoo, to the science centre, to the fall fair, well, Olivia had noticed that, too.
I hadn't shared the full scope of our relationship, of course.
It turned out that I needn't have been so cautious.
"You like him, don't you?"
Coming out of the blue, her question had caught me by surprise. I turned to her and saw only an open, friendly expression.
There seemed to be no point in denying that much at least.
"Mmm-hmm."
The words came easily, but I was surprised I wasn't blushing.
"And, I think, a bit more than that, Tammy?"
Now I blushed, started to stammer out something, but she pulled me into her arms, clung to me so neither of us could look at each other as she spoke.
"It's okay, Tammy. You and Charlie were a good couple, good parents and I was happy for you both. But..."
"But?" I whispered.
"I loved my son. And I love you, too, daughter mine. But..."
"But?"
"I've often thought that men have it easier; they can afford to be romantic, going off on quests and fighting dragons, but we women have to be realistic about life."
I listened silently, wondering now. This certainly did not sound like a reproach.
"And the reality is that Charlie's gone, Tammy. I miss him and you miss him, but all our tears won't bring him back."
On cue, I felt a tear in one eye, sniffed slightly.
"No," I whispered.
"God made us male and female for a purpose, hon. We do best in pairs."
Suddenly, she pushed away from me, her arms around my biceps, staring me in the face. There were tears in her eyes, too.
"Tammy, I was delighted when you two got married, but that's done. You're a healthy young woman in the prime of her life. You need a man in your life and those kids need a daddy."
I blinked as she continued.
"I think we know what I'm talking about, don't we?"
That was Olivia - warm, generous, kind and compassionate. And pragmatic as a sledge hammer.
When I didn't speak, she continued.
"I've dropped by once or twice, dear, the odd time I was in the neighbourhood. Your neighbour – Gale, isn't it? – was babysitting. She was pretty close-lipped about where you were."
Gale hadn't mentioned that to me.
"And I when I called two nights ago, Tyson answered your phone."
My blush turned scarlet.
Olivia's eyebrows went up, but her expression was still friendly.
"I don't have to be Sherlock Holmes, my girl. I can put two and two together."
I just looked at her.
"I like Tyson, Tammy. He's stunning and he treats you super well and the kids like him and..." she paused for a second, "not that you need it, but you've got my blessing."
My tears started for real now and her mom-friendly hug was precisely what I'd had been needing. As a bonus, I realized that I wouldn't have to feel sneaky about hiding things from Olivia anymore.
So, when the long-contested final settlement from Charlie's insurance was grudgingly released, Olivia insisted on taking Ariel and Danny for a while.
"Have fun," she said. "You two deserve it."
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Day One
Tyson
There were two things I liked about the ship. OK, three, if you count the very comfortable bed in our stateroom.
The kitchens worked 24/7 and, while much of the fare catered to popular tastes – sugar, salt, deep-frying and so forth – they'd had other options, some good enough that I'd allowed myself to temporarily drop my normal protein supplements.
Equally important was that the boat had a surprisingly good gym. I'd been worried about letting myself go, but Tammy had done her research before booking our passage.
Most gym-goers have a preferred workout time. Back home, I generally hit the weights first thing in the morning and sticking to that seemed a good plan. Most of the passengers were, I suspected, still in bed when I walked through the door the first time.
A figure on the treadmill caught my attention the moment I entered. A few years older than me, she was almost as tall as Tammy, with dark hair maybe six inches below her shoulders and runner's legs, very long and very trim. Her quite delicious figure was highlighted by an attention-grabbing two-piece pale blue yoga set that covered the essentials while concealing very little.
We didn't speak, just gave each other the usual nodded
we're-better-than-the-flabby-masses
gym acknowledgement. She ran, I moved metal.
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Helen
Of course I noticed.
Compared to the white-haired, crêpe-skinned passenger norm, he was outstanding – tall, totally good-looking and, well, 'muscular' wouldn't begin to come close. I'd never fancied serious bodybuilders before, finding them almost grotesque distortions of what people should look like.
But this lad was neither grotesque nor distorted. Rather, he was textbook gorgeous, masculine beauty perfectly presented, with every muscle clearly defined.
He had expressive, soft brown eyes, a strong chin and well-trimmed dark hair. He was clean-shaven; it took me a minute to notice that he seemed to have no visible body hair and I wondered if that was a bodybuilder thing.
Everyone knows that silly trope about men walking into things when their eyes are caught by the sight of a beautiful woman. As I watched, he pulled off his t-shirt and I suddenly understood how it could happen. With his broad shoulders, major arms, narrow waist and tree-trunk thighs, I realized that it was a good thing for me there were no lampposts in the gym.
I found myself wondering what those solid chest muscles would feel like under my fingertips and felt my tummy tighten.
This wasn't me!
I'd come on the cruise to get
away
from a man and, just a day later, here I was, shamelessly drooling over the first bit of beefcake to wander by.
As I watched, he put down one set of weights and picked up another, his long fingers gripping knurled shiny steel. I was suddenly struck by how well his nails were trimmed. Why I focused on something so trivial, I'm not sure, but I soon found myself wondering what it would feel like to have those hands on me. Would he be gentle under all that strength? I shivered, felt a soft pulse in my ears.
Wiping perspiration from his face with a gym towel, he started to look my way and I turned away rapidly, trying to hide the flush on my cheeks. I hadn't felt this clueless since I was maybe 14 years old; I hoped he couldn't hear my heart beating.
I sped up my pace on the treadmill, kept my eyes on the display for a minute. I was aware of how my breasts were shifting with each step and wondered if he'd noticed, too. I realized to my embarrassment that I couldn't decide if that would please me or not.
When I looked up again, he'd turned away and, a big kettle-bell in each hand, had started a series of squats. I found the play in the muscles in his flank, back and legs mesmerizing.
I prolonged my usual run for a couple of minutes, then a couple more. I was still running when, getting to his feet, he used a towel to wipe down the equipment he'd been working with. He pulled on his shirt, smiled briefly as he passed me on the way to the door before leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Bad thoughts!
No, actually, I thought, they were pretty
good
thoughts.
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Day Two
Tammy
I'd brought my sketching supplies on the cruise. Tyson's posing had brought us together, after all, and I'd promised Gale I'd stay in practice.
I'd done sketches of him in various places around the liner, but I'd only been able to draw him properly – nude – on our balcony and that didn't offer much variation. I was looking forward to our next stop.
Then I thought of the gym, where he'd be dressed in a pair of shorts and, maybe, a pair of earbuds. He'd also be moving instead of just sitting or standing still, which would provide more of a challenge for me. It wouldn't be utterly bare Tyson in Gale's sunlit back yard, but it would beat him leaning against a lifeboat dressed in shirt and shorts.
I caught the gym door, let it close softly; I was pretty sure he'd not heard me come in. I stood there, silently watching him.
About six inches taller than my five foot ten, he carried his 225 pounds very, very well.
His shaved body was coated in a heavy layer of perspiration and I felt my heart speed up in anticipation of a shared shower later.
I walked up to say hello, but Tyson was a machine when he was in the gym and nothing short of the Second Coming would interrupt his sets; he merely smiled in acknowledgement. I blew him a kiss, pulled up a chair and dug out my charcoal.
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Helen
They knew each other, that was clear. I wasn't surprised by her familiarity; a man that handsome deserved somebody as appealing as she was. No, not red-carpet, high-fashion-model pretty, hold the reality and two sides of makeup, please. Rather, while she was very cute, her best feature was her confident, wholesome air.
Well, that's what I thought until she smiled and I suddenly became jealous.
I walked past her on my way out. Her charcoal sketch was, to my amateur eyes, compelling. More than just a cold, draftsmanlike image of the man, her minimalist picture had captured what seemed to me to be his very essence – rugged, powerful, taut masculinity.
"That's really good," I said without slowing down.
She turned her head and smiled, then I was out of the room.
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Day Five
Tyson
