I stretched out the towel over the lounger and slipped off my coverup. Having already applied the sunscreen while in the room, there was little more for me to do than slip off my shoes, stretch out, and enjoy the sun’s warm caress. I’d opted for the Neon Palms with Triangle top and Malibu Micro bottom; despite its name, the Micro actually covered more of me that the Tiny bottom did. Go figure! Laying on my back, hat pulled down shading my face and sunglasses, I could spy on the eyes spying on me. It tickled me that there were more than a few.
By the time I had been lying there for fifteen minutes, the crowd on the pool deck doubled, mostly guys in two’s and three’s sitting around with drinks and eyeing the women around the pool. I was pretty sure that was a result of the convention’s afternoon sessions having concluded. I recognized a few faces from the earlier sessions, but instead of giving me reason to remain obscure it made me feel naughty. Stretching, I doffed my sunglasses and hat and walked casually to the edge of the pool and took a seat putting my feet into the water. The mix was decidedly in my favor; there had to be fifteen or twenty guys to every woman poolside, and if you discounted the one’s definitely with a guy already, the “available” ladies had lots of eyes on them. Tony always reminds me NOT to discount the married or attached ones, even those playing with their kids; guys aren’t thinking with their brains. There’s still a Neanderthal in every male psyche simply thinking about basic sex at every opportunity and sure he could displace any other male as the alpha.
Truth was, I wasn’t competing with anyone; there wasn’t going to be any sex and no one was replacing Tony. I was scratching an itch, it made me feel good to be wanted, to tease, and yes, to expose my body. I’d suppressed that for years, thinking that’s not how wives and mothers are supposed to think or behave, not how a woman was supposed to act, and that wanting,- seeking – , the attention was wrong. Honestly, the Romance novel industry shatters that myth every day, year after year, and while most women who enjoy that genre will tell you it’s just escapist fantasy, every one has the desire to be wanted, desired, and swept up in the fantasy. The housewives who made the Fifty Shades series a best seller may not walk around in the bikini I was now wearing, but they wish they could — and that naughty things were part of their lives too! I’m thrilled that it’s a very important and recognized part of my life, and that Tony and I can share it. Women have libidos, we (society in the Western world) just put such onerous constraints on it and hideous labels on women who act on that.
Suddenly angry, and proud, I slipped into the water and swam the length of the pool until I reached the steps on the far side. I stood, shook my head and pushed my hair back, then strode up the steps and walked — no, I sauntered — three-fourths of the way around the pool deck back to my lounger. I bent, ass toward the pool, and straightened out the towel, then lay back down on my back arranging my hat and sunglasses.
My one concession was that before I exited the water I had made sure my bottom hadn’t moved too much and that none of the lady parts were exposed. Well, not obscenely anyhow. I have long, delicate butterfly wings “down there,” and in such a smallish bottom, even if you tuck everything in to begin with, there’s always a chance that there will be some exposure. Being unlined and moving at all produced a clear cameltoe, and as I only shave around my labia, with this bottom there was definitely some hair visible along the top. By the time I took my seat, I knew I had plenty of attention — and a few scowls from the more “proper” women.
“Anything to drink, ma’am?”
I turned to find a very cute barhop in khaki shorts and a hotel logo polo shirt bending over me.
Oh, what the hell. “Whiskey. Irish. Neat.” I replied, pulling my sunglasses down to get a better look at the young man. The nametag said “Bradley.”
“Yes, ma’am. I be right back,” and he was gone. I hoped the room keycard worked as a charge card too, as It was all I had brought with me. Tony usually took care of all this when we were on vacation, charging it “to the room,” and I had honestly just never paid attention.
Bradley was back pretty quickly, sliding a little wicker table next to my lounge as he appeared. “Your Irish whiskey, ma’am,” he said as he set the glass down on the table within easy reach.
Acting confidently, I handed him my room key and said, “Put it on my room, please.”
“No need. It’s taken care of, ma’am” and he started to turn.
I grabbed his wrist. “Bradley, please stop with the ma’am stuff. I’m Rita.”
“Yes, ma’am. Ah, Rita…” giving me a strange look as I still had hold of his wrist.
“My drink is taken care of?” I asked, taking off my sunglasses but not releasing my grip.
“Yes, ma…Rita. That gentleman…”
I tugged at him, “Don’t turn and don’t point, please, Bradley,” I smiled. “Squat down here, please, and just let me know who it was that bought me this drink.”
Bradley did squat, but again began to turn his head, “it was that…”
“Bradley?” I said in that motherly tone. He looked me in the eyes. I let go of his wrist and took my drink.
“Sorry,” he said instinctively. Use the right tone and a man will apologize without even knowing what he did wrong.
“It’s fine. I just don’t want him to know I know who he is,” I smiled as coyly as I could, then winked.
Bradley smiled too. I took a sip.
“Mmm. Jameson’s?”
Bradley smiled again. “Yeah. You know your whiskey,” still looking at my eyes. Mostly; the unlined top had a couple of bumps drawing his eyes too.
I smiled back, running my finger over the back of his hand that laid on the edge of the lounge where I let go of it. “I do. Lots of other things I know too…” I purred. I slipped my glasses back on with the other hand, still running little circles on the back of his hand. “So, who is my secret admirer?”
“Just about straight across the pool and to the right. Ah, I mean, left. Your left…. The table with the green umbrella and three guys?”
I grinned. “There are two tables with green umbrellas, and both have three guys at them.”
“The three guys in suits…”
Drug reps. Lady-killers. Sales guys who think they can talk anyone into anything. Or out of anything! These pharma companies hire for looks and brains, or at least charm, though they have to learn a ton of information about their own products and the competition’s. They were probably here manning the company booths in the trade show portion of the convention.