by Hunter, Kim
I've got on my bikini. I little red and white poke-dot number . . . and I look pretty darn hot in it, if I do say so myself. In the last twelve months I've grown a pair of melons on my chest that are quite delightful. Sometimes I lie in bed and hold them, amazed how firm they are. I don't think I even really need a bra, but I don't want to push my luck. Oh, and don't ask me what happened to my waist, but my figure is more like an hour glass than a paddle pop now. Curves? Oh yes. And my behind? Certainly no complaints there, either.
I can tell you this. When you're sixteen and these new features appear, it's pretty hard to resist not showing them off.
I hear Dylan plonk himself down on the lounge next to me. He's checking me out, I can sense it. “You need some cream on your back?” he asks. I don't answer him. I just hand him the cream. A few moments later I feel his hands massaging the cream into my back.
“Can I undo the strap?” he asks. Seriously, I can't believe he asked that. But at the same time, I'm quite excited he did.
“Sure,” I say calmly, but inside I'm hysterical. He undoes my bikini strap and continues to rub the cream into my back. I lie there relishing the sensation of his hands on my naked back, and pray my dad isn't watching.
“Now, how about the back of your legs,” he asks.
Now I look up, lean on one elbow and grab the cream with my other hand.
“Don't push it, Romeo.”
He doesn't have a quick reply. He's just staring at me and I suddenly realize why. My bikini is still undone. Between grabbing the cream and lying back down, I gave him another memory of my melons. Oh, that's just great!
“You've grown quite a lot since last year,” he says. The smart ass. “In height, I mean. What are you now, 5' 8'"?”
He's is so cheeky!
I don't answer him.
6. Day Three
This morning the parents and the kids are off to the local fun park. They tried to force Dylan and I join them, but it was more just for show. What are we going to do at a kid's fun park?
After I insisted my parents stop thinking of me as a child, they gave up and left.
I'm not a child anymore. I'm a woman. I know my dad is having problems with that fact lately, but that's how it is. You can't fight Mother Nature. I've evolved.
Oh, by the way, I just caught Dylan checking out my evolution again.
“So, we have the place to ourselves all day,” he says.
The fun park is an hour round trip, so everyone will be gone for at least 4 or 5 hours.
“To yourself,” I reply. I'm not staying in here all day. I'm going to the pool.
I go into my room and get changed. This time I chose a different bikini. One that my father has never seen. If he did he'd burn it—not that there's much to burn! Gosh, I look in the mirror and have to smile at just how scandalous it is. I take my towel and wrap it around me.
When I walk out I bump straight into Dylan who's waiting in front of the door. He's body is really firm. I mean, really firm.
I jump back. “What are you doing?” I ask him. “Don't scare me like that.”
“Hey, I just wanted to ask if I could join you at the pool.”
I'm now dying to touch him again.
“OK,” I say. “But only because I need someone to put suncream on my back.”
As soon as I turn away from him I smile. I almost laugh. This time my dad won't be watching us, and if he asks to put cream on the back of my legs, I might just let him.
“Wait up,” Dylan says. “I just need to get changed quickly.”
“Meet me at the pool,” I say and leave.
7.
I'm on my front sun-baking when he arrives. He looks me over. I make a pact with myself. If he says anything smart about my G-String I'm going to get straight up and leave.
He doesn't mention it, but I am sure he's staring. Who can blame him? I mean, I'm basically only wearing two shoe laces around my entire body!
Yeah, yeah, I know, I should be more modest. I agree, I really do. But, like I said, these new bodily developments are too delightful to keep to myself.
He leans down and picks up the cream. This time he doesn't ask if he can undo my bikini, he just does it. I say nothing. He starts rubbing my back with the suncream.
Now, he's done.
I know it.
He knows it.
But neither of us say a word when he takes another handful of cream and continues to rub it into my back.
Then silence.
“So,” he says—I'm now waiting for him to ask about my legs—“All done.” He puts the lid back on the cream and lies on the chaise lounge next to me.
“Not so fast,” I mumble. “You forgot my legs.”
Now I'm hot inside like I don't think I've ever been. I'm exploding! My heart is racing so fast I wonder if I might just die there and then, and he hasn't even started yet. He takes the lid off again and stands up. He lathers his hands with cream and begins on my calfs. Slowly his hands travel upward. He's up to my thighs now. He takes another handful of cream and continues to rub, and he's getting higher. I'm lying there as calm as I would be while having Sunday brunch. Nothing unusual about what's happening now. Nothing at all. Yeah right! My entire body is dancing with sensations right now.
Oh, woah—woah! He's right at the top of my thighs now, and I mean right at the top!
He rubs slowly around the curves of my peachy behind. Again he stops to get more cream. When he applies it this time, his hands venture a little higher and now he is officially massaging cream on either side of my G-String.
This can not be happening. He's massaging my butt—right now!
And why am I letting him do it?
I know why. Because it's sending my hormones on a one way trip into space, that's why. I'm airborne.
Oh, oh, oh!
I'm officially out of my mind.
I'm now putting all of my mental energy into not letting him know how excited I am.
“OK,” he says, “I think you're ready to bake now.”
He places the cream between our chairs and lies down. I wait for him to say something.
I wait.
Nothing.
He's playing it cool, but we both know what just happened was definitely not normal.
Finally, I can't take the silence anymore. I turn to face him, but he's not looking at me. He's lying on his back soaking up the sun. “So,” I say, “I suppose you want me to put some cream on you now?”
8.
What was I thinking earlier? Oh, I'm such a fool! I don't even look at Dylan at dinner. Our parents are back and on their first bottle of wine already. They're staying in tonight, that means I'm going out.
As soon as possible I leave the table and head down to the beach.
“What's with her?” I hear my mother say as I exit.
What's with me? I'll tell you what: I am out of control. I have NO control.
I think I do.
I tell myself I do.
But my recent history is telling a different story.
This is not like me. This is not normal.
So far Dylan has not only seen me completely naked, I also let him massage suncream all over my butt!
Seriously, like a fool, I just laid there poking my peach in the air as if to say: Here's my goods, big boy, cream away!
I-can't-believe-it!
Oh, no, no, no!
I even creamed up his back afterwards, like the fool I am!
I kick the sand as I walk down the beach. The sun is just starting to set. It's a long beach. I've already walked one length and I'm on my way back now. In the distance I see him.
Little Dylan Morris, my tormentor!
Oh, you sexy little man, what are you doing to me? He was walking in my direction but now he's stopped. He's waiting for me.
“Hey, you all right?” he asks.
I think of ten snappy things to say, but in the end I just reply, “Yeah, fine.” But I'm not fine.
“Sorry I took off
so quickly yesterday,” he says.
After I rubbed cream on his back, instead of pulling my bikini off me, he ran off. I waited for 20 minutes, like an idiot, at the pool—but he never returned! I don't know what happened, but it made me mad. I got up and walked the length of the beach. When I got back our parents were back, too. I didn't talk to Dylan the whole evening, either.
“Why should I care?” I'm trying to be Miss Cool. What a joke! Even I don't believe it. I give in and try to find out what really happened. “What did you go to do, anyway?” I say.
“Oh,” he says, “Nothing. I just—nothing, really.”
Nothing? I roll my eyes. Dylan Morris, you silly little boy!
“I've always had a crush on you,” he says, changing the subject. “Ever since I was eight.” He turns to the side and laughs. “It's terrible, I know. But I've spent most of my life waiting for our joint family vacations each year, just to be able to spend some time with you.”
“Really?” I ask. I mean, I know what boys are like. They like girls. Any girl will do. But to hold a eight year crush on someone is something else. “I've alway thought you were a goof ball,” I say. I'm also smiling now. Funny, I feel a little better already.
“Yeah, well, I am a goof ball, I guess.”
“Were.”
“What?” he asks.
“You were a goof ball. But not anymore.”
“So what am I now?”
I huff and shoot my eyes up to the sky.
“Now,” I say, pointing at him, “You're a problem.”
He looks at me confused. I walk past him and head back to the resort. I expect him to stop me and ask me what I mean. That's why I said it, after all! But he doesn't say anything. What's with guys? Don't they understand anything? Signals, Dylan! Focus, you sexy tormentor!
But he doesn't get it.
Now what do I do?
I can't turn back around. I'll just look stupid. I walk slowly.
Come on, dummy! Ask me to come back! I think.
I glance back and see that he's walking, alright, but in the opposite direction. Now I'm twice as frustrated as I was when I started my walk. I decide to forget him and remind myself he is just little Dylan Morris.
I return to the resort and sit down on one of the lounges. The sun has already set, but I still wish someone were here to rub cream on my back.
I don't see Dylan for the rest of the evening. After two bottles of wine our parents decide to go out after all. I'm back on babysitting duties. Dylan doesn't join me, so it's just up to me.
The two kids decide on another Disney film. My eyes are watching the film, but my thoughts are playing a different film. It stars a sausage monster and a tube of suncream. No matter what I do, I can't turn it off. So I give up and watch it. My home made picture in my mind is making thing awfully hot inside me. The Force inside me screams, It's hot in here! And I agree. It is hot in here.
Did I tell you I am out of control?
Out-of-control.
9. Day Four
At breakfast Dylan smiles at me. It's the first time I've seen him since the beach yesterday and I notice how happy I am to see him. Why? Don't ask me that! How do I know?
I sit next to him.
“Enjoy the walk yesterday?” I ask.
“Very pleasant, thanks,” he responds.
“You know,” his mom looks at us sitting next to one another and points, “you two would make a great couple.”
We both go red.
My dad looks at her and laughs. “Rachel, they're just kids,” he says.
Seriously, my dad does think I'm still a kid. I don't know what he thinks of my boobs, but as far as I know, kids don't carry around a rack like I now have. Honestly, what does he think? How on earth can he think I'm still a kid?
“I'm a lesbian, anyway,” I say.
Everyone laughs at my joke except my dad. He doesn't want me to be straight or gay. Just a kid. That's all he wants me to be forever.
After breakfast I stick around Dylan until we're alone.
“I want to talk to you about something,” I say.
He looks intrigued. “About what?”
“Nothing,” I say.
“Changed your mind already?”
“No, I want to talk to you about—” I bulge my eyes out to try make it obvious, “nothing.”
Now the penny drops.
“Oh, about what I said yesterday?”
“Yeah, about that.”
He leans closer to me and whispers in my ear, “It's really embarrassing, but if you want to know I'll tell you, but not here. Let's go for a walk.”
Well, well, well. Now isn't this mysterious!
We tell our parents we're going for a walk on the beach to look for treasure. They think that's cute. They actually thought we were serious. Idiots!
“OK, now, tell me what this 'nothing' really is?
He breathes in deeply and tilts his head to the sky, exhaling.
“I can't tell you. It's too embarrassing.”
“Come on, spill it,” I say.
He's standing in front of me now staring out at the sea. I move up next to him. I don't know what to expect, but it all feels very romantic.
“I ran to the shop to buy condoms,” he blurts out.
So much for the romance! Nice move, sausage monster!
“What!” I cry out. “You mean you ran to the shop that's 15 minutes away?”
“I told you, I'm an idiot. I don't know what happened. But there was the cream, and that bikini you were wearing, and—I massaged your—”
“Back,” I say, finishing his sentence for him.
He looks at me. “Not just your back.”
We both cringe.
“And then you offered to rub cream into my back, and I had a brain freeze. All I could think of was things were moving pretty fast and we had the apartment to ourselves but I had no condoms.”
Now I look at him shocked. Oh, yeah, like I'm little miss innocent.
“What did you think you needed a condom for?” I say, acting all high and mighty now.
“I just figured that's where we were headed. I mean,” he shrugs his shoulders at me and says, “Where else was there to go after I creamed your ass?”
Oh, that's enough!
“Hey,” I say, “You're just little Dylan Morris! I don't want to sleep with you. That's—disgusting!”
I turn and begin to walk off. I don't know what I'm doing. Do I like him or not? Do I want him or not? Is he sexy or not? What is going on with my body? I can't even read my own crazy signals. No wonder Dylan doesn't understand them either.
10.
It's our final evening together, and our parents are already getting sentimental. We have a big meal together and then Dylan's mom says, “We should take a bottle of wine and enjoy the sunset on the beach together!”
This brings cheers from everyone except Dylan and I. We're both frustrated.
The two kids are already trying to pull the parents out of the apartment.
“I'll clean up and join you later,” I say.
“Dylan, you help, too,” his mom says. “You haven't lifted a finger this whole holiday.”
Dylan nods.
“We'll be just down next to the path. Be sure to join us—and bring another bottle of white from the fridge with you,” she looks at my mom and laughs. “We'll probably be a little dry by then.”
Stupid winos!
“Sure, mom,” Dylan says.
My little sister is pulling at my dad's pants to get him out of the door. She loves the beach. They all pile out of the apartment in a flurry and suddenly it's just me and Dylan.
He smiles at me as he picks up the plates and then walks off to the kitchen.
That smile. Oh, no. It has some kind of power over me. I'm being sucked into that black hole of desire again.
“You know, I'd trade it all in for one kiss,” he says. He's still not looking at me.
“What?” I ask.
Now he tur
ns to me.
“One kiss. It's what I've always dreamed about. This vacation I've seen you naked, and I've touched your naked body, but that's not what I've dreamed about doing all these years. It's always been about one kiss.”
He smiles at me again. That smile!
“Oh, a kiss,” I say, “I didn't realize you needed a condom to kiss!”
He laughs. “All right, I plead guilty! I'm a total goof ball!”
He walks back over to me and he takes hold of my hand. Just like that. I don't stop him.
“Yesterday, you said I was a problem. I'm sorry about that. I never want to be a problem to you. You mean too much to me.”
I'm melting right now. Me, melting!
“I didn't mean it in a bad way,” I say. “You're a problem because—” I look away, “I'm so attracted to you I can't seem to control myself.”
This is crazy! My body is covered in goose bumps. My heart is about to fall out of my body. And it is HOT inside me.
“When we first met, I remember thinking you were beautiful,” he says. “We were just kids, but I remember that day like it was yesterday. Every year, you just became more beautiful.” He looks into my eyes, “You're personality. You're humor. The way you talk, walk, laugh, and hang with others. Everything about you is beautiful. But this year, something's changed inside us both.”
I want him! Want, want, want!
I try to remain calm. I can do this.
Oh, I can't help myself. The Force is taking over already.
“I don't want you to be a problem anymore,” I say to him. “I just want you.”
He smiles again, and I'm drowning in it!
My eyes are losing their focus, my whole body is burning up.
He pulls me closer to him. “If we kiss, I don't know if I'll be able to control myself.”
I press my fingers through the back of his hair.
“I lost control on the first day of this vacation,” I say.
