Afterwards I was quite shocked at my own behaviour. Not that it was my fault. Not really. All I did was go to the beach to get a bit of a tan.
OK, when I say a bit of a tan I mean a tan with as few tan lines as possible. That meant going topless. (Not bottomless. I'd die rather than go fully nude. The very idea was shocking. I know. I know. Some people would point out that at eighteen I should be past these little foibles, but they're my foibles and nude wasn't in the picture.) Going topless also meant that I couldn't go to my normal beach or I'd have a horde of lustful losers drooling over me, throwing so many shadows over me that I'd be lucky to get any tan at all.
My solution was to go to a more remote beach where you couldn't go swimming. No swimming meant people didn't go there, except me, for my tan. I knew of this beach where the so called beach was very rocky with those rocks carrying on down and into the water. There was nowhere for people to sit and relax and no-one would dream of going into the water. Your feet would be cut to ribbons just wading out to where it was deep enough to swim, and with that much blood in the water the sharks would be waiting, knowing a buffet dinner was on the way.
At that beach there was a nice slope on one of the hills, facing the sea and the sun, and covered in light grass. An ideal spot for some uninterrupted sun-bathing, and that's where I went.
I parked off the main road. My car could be seen but was relatively inconspicuous. Anyone spotting it would already have passed it by the time it being there registered and people just don't bother to stop if they've already passed something. Cops might, but I wasn't worried about them.
I trekked off to the beach, my course deviating slightly until I was strolling across the side of the hill. I was totally out of sight of the main road and there were precisely nil people down near the water. I spread out my towel, stripped down to my bikini bottom, and lay down to get a tan. I suppose I could have gone all the way but like I said, outside nudity just isn't me, even if there weren't any witnesses. It just seemed off.
I had a small MP3 player for my music. I didn't mind draining the batteries of that but god forbid I should drain my phone's battery. The music actually helps keep me awake, as do the magazines I had with me. I did not want to fall asleep and wake up to find myself cooked to a turn, just add butter.
I just relaxed, turning over every now and then, enjoying the sun. Some judicious use of sunscreen meant I'd develop a nice tan without any painful burns.
It was probably that little MP3 player that let me be taken unawares. I was just lying there on my side, reading an article on the royal wedding, my music playing softly in my ears, deadening any other sounds in the area, it turned out. Sounds like the footsteps of a man walking across to where I was. The first clue I had that he was there was when someone bent over me and hoicked my bikini pants down and off, tossing them to the side.
What is the normal reaction of a young lady to this type of event? Well, if she's anything like me she shrieks as loudly as she can while scrambling about trying to protect her modesty. I finished up sitting up, knees drawn up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them while I gave the intruder a furious look, my MP3 player lying on the ground, the force of my reaction having made me jump out of the ear pieces.
The man looked enormous. Of course, that could be because I was huddles at his feet, but I didn't think so. I think he really was enormous. My guess was that he was a labourer of some sort. This is not casting aspersions on his mental faculties but acknowledging that he was bulging with muscle and it didn't look the sort of fancy muscle that weight-lifters put on. It looked like the muscle of a man who regularly does strenuous work that requires the muscle.
"What the fuck do you think you're playing at," I screamed at him.
"Did you know that your feet are in the wrong position if you're trying to conceal your charms?" he said. "I can not only see what you think you're hiding but I can see that you're a natural blonde. Only a little curly patch, I admit, but I can see it."
I hastily shifted the position of my feet, giving him a filthy look.
"Just go away," I snarled at him. "No-one invited you here."
"True, but here I am," he said with a great big smirk on his face. "Ah, your new position isn't really much better than the old one."
"Go away," I said, speaking bluntly. I didn't think this man would be susceptible to subtle hints. I didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me change my position again. If he could see more than he should then sobeit, I wasn't budging.
"But I've only just got here," he said. "I thought I'd work on my tan for a while. I didn't want to tan at the regular beach as I always get surrounded by drooling floozies and can't get any peace."
He was such a liar. He was only wearing tatty old shorts and he was already tanned to a fare-thee-well. He needed privacy to tan like Trump needed more adverse publicity.
"Just go away and get your tan elsewhere. Or go tan over there," I waved a hand in the general direction of places not near me, "and I'll go away and you won't need to worry about me drooling over you."
