Kinky Confessions

“Chris said you have good taste.”

“She’s the one with good taste. In clothes… shoes… purses… people.” I grinned.

Brooke turned pink, so I gestured toward the door to the house and then followed her inside.

“Found it,” I said to Anne as I set the picnic basket on the table.

“Ah, perfect. Hello, Brooke, dear.”

“Hey, Mrs. C.”

“Would you like an omelet?”

She hesitated but then saw that we were eating too. “Yeah, sure,” she

said. “I mean, yes, please. Sorry.”

“It’s all right, dear. You’re practically family.”

Christy and Brooke exchanged a couple of meaningful looks. They covered them quickly when Anne turned and asked Brooke if she wanted peppers.

“No, thanks. They give me gas. Just ham and cheese, please.”

“Oh my gosh,” Christy said out of the blue, “I have to show you something. Um… my sunglasses. In my room.”

The two girls disappeared, leaving Anne and me to an awkward silence.

She returned her attention to the stove, and I picked up where Christy had left off with the sandwiches.

“Birdy can be… flighty… at times,” Anne said at last.

I wondered why she’d used her nickname but didn’t ask. Instead, I apologized and said, “It’s my fault. I… um… shouldn’t’ve let her sleep so late.”

“Oh? Is that what they call it these days?” She smiled blandly and folded the omelet.

“Thank you,” I said after a moment. “For everything.” I could’ve been talking about the omelet, but we both knew better.

“You’re welcome, dear.”

Christy and Brooke returned with barely suppressed giggles. They both smirked at me and then composed themselves to accept plates from Anne.

“Sit down and eat, girls.” She finished cooking the last omelet, which she slid onto a plate and handed to me. “Eat up, dear. You’ll need your stamina too.”

I didn’t choke that time, but only because I wasn’t drinking anything. My eyebrows still rose with surprise. “You have a strange sense of humor.”

She smiled, artfully innocent. “Harold says the same thing.”

Brooke grew quieter as we neared the beach, and she had a death grip on the steering wheel by the time we turned into the parking lot and found a spot.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Yeah, sure. It’s just…” She swallowed and tried to fake a confident smile.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Christy sat forward and looked at her friend. “Oh my gosh, Brooke! He’s right, we don’t have to go.” She turned to me. “She’s totally like me. I get all confident when I’ve had a few drinks—”

“And then reality hits,” I finished, “and you lose your nerve.”

“Exactly, we chicken out.” She stroked Brooke’s arm in reassurance.

“Really, we don’t have to go. Besides, it looks windy, and you know what that means.”

She nodded through the windshield, and we watched two older women hold their floppy sun hats in place as they made their way back to their car. I rolled down the BMW’s window and a gust of chilly air filled the car. The temperature in the sun earlier had been cool but tolerable, but the wind sucked the heat right out of it. I rolled up the window.

“Definitely too cold for a nude beach,” I said.

Christy agreed with an exaggerated shiver, which was a total lie. She was so hot-natured that she probably would’ve been fine, but she was giving her friend an excuse.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Brooke said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “I’m not going out there, and I’m the one who’s actually a nudist.”

“Hey,” Christy bleated, “I’m a nudist too. A new one, but still a nudist.”

“You are, but do you wanna take off your clothes on a cold beach?”

“I hate it when you use logic against me.”

“Thanks,” Brooke said, “but it isn’t the weather. I don’t know why I’m nervous all of a sudden.”

“It’s okay,” Christy said.

“Don’t worry about it,” I added. “I mean, this isn’t the same as skinny-dipping in your own back yard.”

“I know. I said I wanted to go, but…” She shrugged helplessly.

“Is it okay if we hang out at your pool instead?” I asked. “We can have a private picnic instead of a public one. We don’t even have to take off our clothes.”

“You aren’t upset?” Brooke asked. “I know you wanted—”

“A relaxing day at the beach. But not if we’re all freezing.”

“Everyone but Li’l Miss Exothermal.” She hooked a thumb in Christy’s direction. “You’re sure you aren’t upset?”

“Absolutely. It’s no fun if you aren’t comfortable, physically and

mentally. Besides, your house is probably better anyway.”

“Are you sure…?”

“We’re sure,” Christy said.

“Let’s go home,” I added with a nod.

Brooke sighed in relief and started the car. She was quiet during most of the drive back to her house, but she spoke up as she turned into the neighborhood.

“You probably think I’m a prude,” she said.

“Not really. As a matter of fact,” I said, “I know you’re not. Christy’s told me all your dirty little secrets. Remember?”

“She has,” she said with a faux-glare. “But thanks for being cool about it.

Not just today, but… everything.” She glanced at Christy in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, I know… you told me.”

Christy had the good grace not to rub it in.