Daisy and I had been on again, off again, friends with benefits since college. It was never anything serious, we lacked the chemistry to make a real relationship work, but I considered her one of my best and oldest friends. We'd always been there for each other, especially when the both of us were between relationships, and we'd always be there for each other.
Daisy was a serious wild child in college, and that's one of the things I loved about her then. Smart, confident, incredibly adventurous, and always insistent on her needs being met. She had one of the keenest senses for bullshit and risk I'd ever seen, and for everything she did -- threesomes, gang bangs, adult theaters and glory holes, orgies, BDSM; if you can name it, she's probably done it -- I don't think I can remember a single pregnancy or STD scare, or evening gone wrong. It was almost supernatural.
She calmed down in her late twenties, when she somehow found herself in a serious, long term, monogamous relationship which resulted in a ten-year marriage with no kids. Of all ironies, the split-up was because he had been cheating on her. Apparently, her ex-husband felt self-conscious about her past and constrained in their sex life, and instead of talking through it started an affair. In Daisy's words, "he could have just brought her home for a threesome, and everyone would have been happy"...that was just Daisy's sense of humor for you.
We didn't talk much while she was married: occasional texting, a monthly coffee or dinner, a day out once or twice a year. Her career and marriage came first. But since the split-up, we'd been hanging out more and spent the night together regularly. I hated the circumstances, but it was great having my old friend back, even though she was still in the process of grieving and healing, and it seemed like the old wildness which I loved was long gone.
At least, until I got the text at work Thursday.
"Signed the divorce papers today," it read, "whatever you're doing this weekend, cancel it."
I replied. "It's good to hear it's final, but I'm still sorry you had to go through it. I didn't have any plans anyways. What did you have in mind?"
"I need to blow off steam and we're getting out of town. All expenses paid care of Shithead. Check it out." Shithead was what she'd taken to calling her ex-, and I couldn't say I blamed her.
The next thing she texted, was a link to a resort I'd never heard of: Suadela Cove. It was on a lake surrounded by forest about six hours' drive south, and based on the pictures it was very picturesque, with a private beach, impressive amenity suite, rustic-styled decoration, and lakeside cabin accommodations.
And it was a clothing-optional swingers' retreat. My jaw dropped reading the schedule of daytime activities and nighttime events, even college-age wild child Daisy would have openly balked at this. I didn't even know a place like Suadela Cove was even legal.
My gut reaction was "hell yeah!", but consideration for Daisy and her emotional state won the conflict between upper and lower head. "Are you sure?" I asked. "This seems like an awful lot so soon."
A few minutes passed before her next text. "Trust me, I'm not just lashing out or overreacting. I've wanted to do a trip like this for a long time, even before the split up. I miss the old me and with the divorce over it's time to reconnect. I'm going with or without you, but I'd prefer you there."
"As long as you're sure," I responded. "Sounds like fun. What should I bring?"
Her reply came quickly. "Clothes for the trip there and back, toiletries. Benefits of a nudist resort :)" I couldn't argue with her there. A quick follow-up text said, "I'm bringing my toy bag."
From there, we made the travel arrangements. There was a newcomer and introduction party Daisy wanted to go to Friday night, so we agreed to work half days on Friday and meet up at one. She insisted on driving, not flying, so she'd already rented an electric car; it meant we'd have to stop and charge halfway, which worked perfectly since we could eat and refresh ourselves. She'd drive the first half of the way, I'd drive the second half, and we'd be there in time to check in and clean up before this party.
Preparing for the spontaneous (to me) trip was easy enough, I went to bed and work the next day, and she was a little late to pick me up at my apartment. I noticed she was in rare form as soon as I opened the passenger door of her rental and tossed my overnight bag in the backseat.
Daisy was a little taller than average -- about 5'6" if I had to guess -- and always had a slight frame. She did yoga for as long as I remember, and recently got into the "women who lift" trend combined with a better diet, to fill out and define her shape in a way she never had in college. When we met she was lucky to fill a B-cup bra, but between age, better-balanced diet, and her lifting, she now had lovely, perky, C-cup breasts. She always had a cute, round butt and nicely-toned thighs, which looked fantastic in yoga pants with the tiniest bit of thigh gap.
She was naturally dirty blonde but favored highlights, and always kept her hair shoulder-length and done in convenient, modest styles. She was never a fan of heavy makeup, and usually kept herself done in earthier, more natural, tones that accentuated her brown eyes and modestly-plump lips. She had a slightly long face, strong cheekbones and chin, almond eyes, and slightly aquiline nose that gave her a vaguely Mediterranean appearance to match her light olive skin.
You never would have guessed Daisy was in her late thirties by looking at her. The structure of her face and body made it clear she was mature, but the care she took of herself gave her the appearance of someone no older than their early thirties.
But, her clothing...or rather, lack of it...told me everything I needed to know about her mood. She wore an ivory-colored, crochet, beach cover that was a dress in name only, and barely covered her groin as she sat. The only thing under her dress was a matching crochet microkini bottom, the presence of which I could only tell by the string tied around her hip. Sandals to match, and her usual array of bracelets, necklaces, rings, and anklets.
She smiled at me behind round large-frame sunglasses, and said, "get in already, we're running late". I couldn't help but notice the seat belt between her breasts held the cover down, making her nipples poke visibly through the crochetwork. Exhibition came as naturally as breathing to Daisy, but I hadn't seen this level of it since our college days. I'll admit it was thrilling to see, and put real promise behind whatever hedonistic shenanigans she had planned for us this weekend.
I sat and shut the car door, and Daisy unbuckled her seat belt long enough to give me a long, warm, hug and a kiss, before we were on our way. The first half of our drive was incredibly pleasant, once we were on the highway Daisy put the car on autopilot and we spent the way talking about our work weeks, reminiscing about our college days, and finally talking about her divorce and what its finalization meant for her.
Over the long conversation, she elaborated on her text: part of her always missed her wild and libertine life before marriage, and moving towards their tenth anniversary she began to feel constrained, too. She didn't want a return to those days, but she did want to spice up her sex life. Her ex-husband apparently felt self-conscious about it, and wasn't receptive. Communication broke down, and he had his affair, probably a preemptive measure out of insecurity about her fidelity.
But now with her ex-husband out of the picture, no kids, and approaching forty, Daisy was over missing her past and potentially living with regrets. It was her time, and she wasn't going to hold herself back for the sake of anyone else, any more. Spending the weekend at a swinger's resort hopefully getting her brains fucked out in every way imaginable, was her gift to herself and her way of reconnecting with her slutty past. Especially with one of her oldest friends along for the ride, who knew her best and knew most of her dirtiest secrets...hell, who'd participated in a lot of them.
The conversation weighed in my mind as we hit the halfway point, and pulled into the charging station. I'd known Daisy a long time, long enough to trust this wasn't a matter of denial, regression, guilt, or grief, and that she was just trying to build a new normal for herself that combined the best of who she was back then, and the best of who she'd become since. It just felt odd being on the road with her, like we were going to spring break or some huge sex party hundreds of miles away to maintain anonymity.
Maybe it was just me. I wasn't the person who I used to be, and I'd left that life behind a long time ago. Daisy handed me the charge card that came with the car, I got out, and started charging. She got out of the car and stretched, showing off her practically nude body to the public without a care in the world. I finally got a decent look at the microkini bottom under her cover, which had a G-string back and barely enough material to cover her clit and inner labia; her camel toe was proudly on display between her thighs for anyone lucky enough to get a close look, and it was plain for all to see she was completely bare downstairs.
"You could get us arrested for that," I said, half-jokingly.
"Isn't that part of the fun?", she replied, with a tinge of boredom to her voice and a half-smile. I looked around, noticing the only people around weren't close enough to get a good look and notice Daisy was practically naked. I knew her well enough to know that, to her, this was just getting out of a car for a stretch. For it to be remotely interesting to her, there'd have to be a chance of getting noticed or caught.
"I could yell at some people to come over if you want."
Daisy laughed and leaned back against the car, her nipples poking out of the cover again. "No...not yet anyway," she said with a glance up to the charging station's canopy. It was warm and humid enough outside, even in the shade, to find my cargo shorts and polo top a bit stifling, and I wondered if Daisy might have the right idea being mostly naked.
