After the two girls explored the rest of the Faldor's public areas, George decided she should go up to their suite to shower and change for her meeting with the Dining Room Hostess, explaining to Nancy that she'd been in the same clothes since that morning and throughout their long trip to Cinder Bay. They'd parted ways at ten minutes to six, George leaving Nancy by herself on a large veranda that adjoined the back of the old hotel. It was accessed by a hallway beside the stairs in the main lobby but, from the veranda, there was also a door to the kitchen so that staff could serve guests should they choose to eat or drink at one of the many umbrella topped bistro tables on the wooden deck.
At the moment, Nancy was the only guest who enjoyed the fresh, sea air as it blew in from the water, waves gently crashing against the beach about fifty feet away under an almost perfectly blue, early evening sky.
Bess was right, Nancy thought. It
was
nice here. Sure, the people were a bit strange, but it was quiet and restful, the kind of place one would go to write a novel, perhaps to retire, such as Colonel Marks had.
Thoughts of the retired military man returned her mind to Susan Quinn, and she imagined her aunt's friend carelessly frolicking amongst the waves in a skimpy bikini, Marks watching with perverted excitement. She couldn't help the smallest grin at this as she made her way to the wide set of stairs that led down to the beach.
The sand was fine and, even in her sensible, low heeled shoes, she found it a bit difficult to walk in until she got closer to the water's edge where it was a wet, dark brown, hard packed mud that supported her shoes quite well. She stopped less than a foot from the farthest reach of the incoming waves, staring down at them, enjoying a sudden and unexpected moment of peace.
No school. No Ned. No mystery. No Bess. She might have wished for George's company just then, but only because she knew her best friend could have also recognized this sudden moment of peace, would have remained silent with her so as not to spoil the serenity it offered, the subtle context it somehow lent to life as it was and always had been.
What was she doing with Ned?
Did he hold the place he did in her life simply because he was expected to be there? Because her own life of successes, one after another, could never look right with any boy of lesser accomplishment? Because wasn't he the male version of her in that sense? And why was it that such a different flavour of him had come across during their sexual experience? It was almost as though he was a different person once his hands started roaming, as though she was only being used for what her body had to offer him. Was there any real affection for her in what he'd done? Shouldn't she at least be able to tell this? Was he really even the person she'd always thought him to be?
She heaved a heavy sigh, realizing that Ned had somehow managed to intrude upon her moment of serenity anyway. Lifting her head, she looked out over the water, suddenly and for the first time in her life wondering who she was, what she'd been doing; what she was going to do now that school was finished.
While thinking of these things, the tide had been coming in, a fact she'd failed to notice until she was startled by the shock of the cold salt water suddenly overrunning her shoes. Stepping back, she looked down, frowning at her soaked shoes, but also somehow enjoying the fresh sensation. Her frown slowly disappeared as she stepped forward again, allowing another incoming wave to wash over her already wet feet.
It felt good. It felt good because it was cold, but also because this was something not normally done, the conscious allowing of one's shod feet to be soaked. Nancy smiled, both at the pleasurable physical sensation, and the realization of why she was enjoying it on a psychological level and, before she'd realized it, she'd taken another few steps forward. Then another few until she was smiling widely, mouth a little open as she watched the foamy surf surrounding her lower legs just above her ankles, but only a few inches below the hem of her skirt when a wave would roll in.
It was so cold, so fresh... so
real
.
It dawned on her that she was becoming sexually aroused, nipples hardening in her bra. This sensation made her smile falter, but only a little as she tried to understand how this could be. But the wonder over this development slowly took a backseat to the idea that she could hold her dress up and wade even further in. Her shoes were already soaked and the tingles at the sides of her neck when the idea occurred proved her desire to do it. She grabbed her skirt, heisting it as far as mid-thigh before she came to her senses, realizing that she was wading out into the North Atlantic Ocean while fully clothed because it was arousing her. Furthermore, she was doing it right out in open public!
She backed up, giving her head a slight shake, dropping her dress and turning to make her way back to the packed mud of the shore. But her smile mostly remained, as did her arousal and, looking down at herself, she couldn't help in some way regretting having come to her senses. Removing her shoes so as not to ruin them in the sand, she made the return trip to the large veranda in her sheer stockings. Sand stuck to her feet and she wondered how she'd get it off before going inside. Surely, Mr. Carmody wouldn't appreciate her tracking mud throughout the nice clean carpets of the hotel on her way back up to their suite.
To be sure, she hadn't thought of the consequences of her thoughtless wading and, to make matters worse, she saw a familiar figure up on the veranda, smiling down at her as she approached the foot of the stairs.
"Feels nice, doesn't it?" Colonel Marks noted.
Paused at the stairs while silently cursing the sudden rise of heat to her face, Nancy nervously replied, "Why... yes, it is. Very refreshing."
"I wade out a little way myself sometimes," he confided, digging a hand into one of the lower side pockets of his blazer, "but I wear a pair of shorts and no shoes."
Nancy could only look down in reply, her smile returning as a symptom of her embarrassment as she started up the stairs.
"I suppose that's the advantage of being a woman, though," he continued. "You can get away with little things like that, things that would make people question a man's sanity while it would only be seen as quirky when a woman does it. Especially a... a
young
woman such as yourself."
Gaining the veranda, she finally looked up to find him stuffing a package of cigarettes and a chrome
Zippo
lighter back into his pocket, a lit one in his mouth as he watched her approach. His eyes took their time in their ogling of her person and, while Nancy noted this, she somehow didn't mind as much as she did in the Parlour. As she thought of it, she realized that she hadn't overly minded it even then and wondered if it was because he seemed to have just a little more class about it than Manny had, or whether it only seemed harmless from an older man. In fact, other than his sometimes shocking candor, Nancy found she rather liked the retired military man.
"I usually don't go wading in my clothes either, Colonel," she assured, still flushed as she stopped at the railing beside him. "To be honest, I don't quite know what came over me, apart from what you said about it feeling so... well, so nice."
"No need to make excuses," he told her, exhaling a lungful of smoke. "You're young, you're allowed to do things without knowing why."
Just then, a maid appeared from the kitchen entrance. She bore a round tray with two drinks on it and, after winding through the tables, stopped between the retiree and Nancy, handing the Colonel one glass before holding another out to Nancy.
"Oh, no thank you," she politely declined. "I'm not old enough to-"
"Nobody cares about that here, Nancy," Marks assured her. "Besides, I already bought it and they won't take it back. Go ahead."
She took it, though hesitantly. The smiling maid turned and, without a word, retreated back to the kitchen with her tray while Marks held up his glass.
"Here's to doing things without knowing why," he toasted.
She couldn't help a grin over this, toasting despite her reservations. Then, taking a sip, she found the drink to be very good, immediately taking another.
"So, where's your friend? George, was it?"
"Yes. She's upstairs freshening up."