A First Date

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Sam and Marie go on a particularly exciting first date.
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Dear readers,

This is my first time submitting a story, so any feedback is welcome! The story is based on a true experience I had last summer. The names are changed of course, and many details too. I hope you enjoy!

........................................................................................................

She was waiting for him beyond the little gates of the station. She was looking around in that anticipatory way; not frantically searching but definitely keeping her eye out, moving her head first this way, then that way. She was waiting for him, he supposed. This was where they had agreed to meet.

She was dressed pragmatically, considering their activity for the day. She was wearing a light summer dress, adorned with blue floral patterns. Buttons ran their way up the front from the hem towards her small cleavage above. Below her dress showed a small bit of pale leg, and then the fashionable brand-sandals she had picked for the day. All in all it was an outfit that was as suited for a stroll through the city on a summer's day, as for an afternoon on the beach.

More interestingly, it was an outfit that would be easy to take off. It couldn't have taken more 30 seconds to put on and could be removed just as easily. To not draw out the moment of truth too long, perhaps. Whip-Snap and it would be over.

From the distance he couldn't see if she was wearing a bikini top. Her breasts didn't really show under the flowy fabric of the dress. It didn't matter anyway. Her slight figure was one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place. One of the many factors that went into the snap decision to swipe right a week ago.

........................................................................................................

Not the only factor of course. He wasn't that shallow. He didn't usually even look at appearance that much. Presentation was more important, he felt.

What kind of picture a person put on their dating profile says a lot about character. When someone only has badly lit, duck-faced selfies, that person doesn't portray a lot of personality, or at least, not the sort of personality he liked. The same went for people with overly many pictures of 'having drinks with the giiirls!' or anything to do with Instagram filters (doggy ears are not, in fact, cute. Not at all).

She had had none of those red flags.

On her profile, she had a beautiful analogue film-photo showing her face, outlined by crisply captured brown curls, hazel eyes looking mischievously into the camera. Another one showed her in the mountains, feet dangling over some precipice. Her face showed a contentment, like there was no place in the world she'd rather be. A last photo was of her lying in the grass, flushed cheeks heated by the sun, her eyes scrunched into a wink by the intense light.

She seemed like a person who would be naturally at ease in any situation, comfortable in her own skin and mind. A person that was born to just exist. She was gorgeous.

.......................................................................................................

So he had swiped right. And now they were here. The nervous feeling that had been building since he first stepped on the train was reached a crescendo. Butterfly wings felt more like jet-engines, thundering in his stomach, sending hot fumes to cloud his mind. He usually felt a bit nervous before a date, but it was heightened this time.

He passed through the small gates, leaving the platform and waved, trying to get her attention. After a couple of seconds, she turned her head his way, and her face burst into a bright smile (not unlike the one in the picture, but that much more abundant in real life). She waved back and started walking towards him.

The pictures had done her justice, not under- and not overselling her looks. The brown curls swayed gently, ending just below the height of her jaw. Without a camera to provoke her into posing, she was more pretty than drop-dead gorgeous. (Though he thought that was fair enough. It was probably a lot less tiring to be pretty, than to be drop-dead gorgeous all the time).

Her eyes were sparkling and seemed to smile, even if the rest of her face was not at that moment. Her nose was small, with a slight crook that gave the rest of her more realness. Without it, she might would have been suitable for the cover of GQ, or vogue; a spotless fairy-tale princess. With it, she looked more like someone out of Nan Goldin's slice of life photographs. A person sexy through living. He preferred that. It was much more tactile.

Her mouth was big, made for grinning, and her lips a cheery pink-red (made for kissing. But that was as of yet a silent thought, whispered lightly in the back of his mind, obscured by louder observations).

"Hi Sam!" she said as she approached. Her voice was lower than expected, and a bit raspy. The way your throat gets dry when you haven't spoken for a bit. Or when you're nervous.

"Hi Marie" he replied.

He gave her a quick hug when she reached him. Handshakes were for your teacher or the distant uncle that you haven't seen for a while. Not for someone you were going to spend hours on a date with. She was quite a bit shorter than him, her head barely reached his chin.

"How are you?" she asked quickly. It was the kind of question that didn't demand an immediate answer, more a placeholder than anything with real intent. Like him, she didn't want a silence to develop, leaving space for nervous thoughts and worries.

"Sorry if I am a bit hectic at the start. I had to run for the train, then I thought I lost my ticket, so I had to sweet talk the conductor, then I was changing wagons because some weird guy started on the opposite bench started talking to me."

"Don't you hate it when people do that? I even had my earphones in, I mean come on! Anyway, it is nice to see you. Are you nervous? "

...................................................................................................

The quick flow of words reminded him of when they first started texting. The quick cascade of messages had seemed a bit much at the beginning, but he figured she was just an enthusiastic person.

What makes you happy? I mean like small-scale happiness. On a daily basis. He had asked after the obligatory opening messages.

The three moving dots, indicating that she was typing, took a while to materialise into a message.

A lot of things! Going to a good movie or looking at beautiful art. Making an extravagant lunch and eating it all in like five minutes. Going for hikes in the mountains and being exhausted after a long day of walking. Or going skinny dipping in a cold lake after!

The fact that she had taken the time to think about and write an actually interesting answer, warmed him to her. So often, people had responded lazily to his question. Among the worst were: 'You, hot daddy', 'Netflix', and worst of all 'my dog;. Answers that ensured the conversation was professionally assassinated before it had time to come of age.

You know, I have actually never gone skinny dipping. Sam had texted back.

How is it?

I love it! It is wonderful to feel the cold water on every part of your body. It makes you feel like people should never swim with clothes on in the first place (you know what, now that I think about it, maybe people just shouldn't wear clothes in first place. Though I don't really know what it is like to walk around naked...

...

Again the three moving dots took a while to become a message. A full three minutes later, the next message came.

I have a crazy idea for a first date.

........................................................................................................

Back in the hall of the train station he replied with a nervous laugh "I am a bit nervous, but I think it is mostly excitement!"

"You look really nice by the way!"

Suddenly, she looked at him with an intense stare. With a slightly cocked eyebrow she said "Now what kind of excitement you were referring to exactly?"

He felt his cheeks go red. He didn't know how to respond to that.

After what felt like ages, her face broke into a mischievous smile.

"I was just teasing you! Come on, let's go catch the bus."

...................................................................................................

They sat next to each other on the slightly too cramped seats that one is likely to find on the common city-area bus. They sat close to one another, legs touching lightly, their muscles tight from not wanting to impress on the other too much. This close, he could smell her perfume. It was herby and sweet, imbued with lavender, lemon and apricots. It dove straight from his nostrils to his stomach, stirring up jitters from the deep. He was already infatuated by that smell.

From the corner of his eye, he watched her face through the curls. Her side too, was very pretty. Her eyes were darting to and fro, glancing occasionally at him when she thought he was not looking.

After they had gotten on the bus, there was a momentary pause in their conversation. It wasn't a silence as such. More a bated breath, held in anticipation. Now that they had passed the stage of salutary pleasantries, they were at a crossroads. The choice of topic might influence the entire afternoon.

One thing was at the forefront of both of their minds, he was sure. But to bring it up could break the spell, introduce doubts. He did, unequivocally, not want that to happen. He decided to travel down a safer route.

"In the texts you said you enjoyed looking at beautiful art. What is the nicest thing you have seen recently?" This was a somewhat helpless question, he realised, but she seemed to appreciate his effort and quickly picked up his cue.

"Let me think... Oh! I went to Austria in summer and saw the Kiss by Gustav Klimt. You know the painting of the couple, wrapped in a golden blanket, where the guy is kissing the girl on the cheek?"

"I loved how intimate it felt. It was so different from everything I had seen before. Not realistic, but with the grainy texture and the black squares on the gold background, and the devoted posture he painted the people in. I thought it was amazing. If I could be kissed like that once in my life, I think I'd die a happy person."

For a second, she seemed to be looking at him with a vague expression. It might have just been imagination though, for how quickly it passed.

He couldn't help but be distracted by her lips again. Once more, the notion of their kissable nature seized his mind. The thought was still quiet, but more than a whisper this time.

He had seen the painting as a poster in his parents' house not too long ago. Trying to mask the distraction his thoughts had caused he quickly continued the conversation.

"I get that. The way it is painted just somehow seems more lively than other paintings I have seen. Though I am not sure about the relationship. He seems devoted to her, sure, but the way she is on her knees, and almost paralysed in his arms, she seems so passive. Like it is something that is just happening to her."

"If I imagine a perfect kiss, I want it to be completely mutual. I want to know the other person wants me with their whole heart, you know. Not just sit there and accept what I am trying to give."

"I understand" she replied tenderly. The way she sat there looking at him, it was like she was mentally writing down his words on a piece of paper, folding it and putting it in her back pocket for later use.

A moment later her face changed to an impish expression. "I guess I just want to be worshipped."

...................................................................................................

After getting off at the bus stop, they still had a 20 minute walk before they would reach their destination.

"It is nice to hear your actual voice" she said suddenly. She had been in the middle of asking a question about climate change, but changed her mind mid-sentence.

"When you talk to a person online, you only get to see this tiny part of them, the part they choose to present to you. Now that we have met, I am starting to get the full picture."

"Your voice for example. It is nice and deep, it makes me feel warm inside."

He blushed. "Thank you."

"I think understand," he continued "I feel like I can only actually be attracted to someone once I get to know their details. I want to know how someone smiles, how they move their fingers and in what way they sit. That sort of stuff. I think it makes someone feel more real, closer."

"Oh, and how has that been so far then?" she asked.

"Hmm, let me see. You move your hands very delicately, like everything you touch is wrapped in velvet. You sit very straight and attentive, as if everything around you is worth your complete attention. When we talk it makes me feel very listened to."

"And obviously there is your smile. You turn into a little gnome when you think you've said something funny. It is adorable."

"Oh! A gnome?!" she exclaimed "How dare you? I am a lady mind you!"

She proceeded to push him. He stumbled into the shallow of the sea, drenching his shoes. Before he could get to her, she was already running away, turning to give him that signature smile.

When he caught up to her, she wasn't wearing her smile anymore. In a serious tone, and with an edge of bashfulness, she said "I guess today is perfect for you then, what with all the details you'll get to see."

.....................................................................................................

The beach they were headed was quite a walk away from the bus station. This was not unexpected, because the nature of this particular beach dictated there be not too many passers-by; unaware families, single men past a certain age, or curious teenagers out to have a laugh.

In this area of the country the beach was a long stretch of sand, with only signs denoting one area from the other. The fact that they had arrived at the right spot became clear after a group of young people emerged from the sea to run towards their towels. They were stark naked. Breasts and dicks bounced happily around as their owners went their way.

The group seemed happy, like they had just done something a bit forbidden and were freed by it. They were definitely looking at one another too, but not with any overt lust. It was just a curious 'hey so that is how that looks', like somehow all the shame had come off with the clothes.

Not wanting to infringe too much, Sam and Marie walked a bit further until they were out of earshot of the group.

"That was cool!" Marie said. "It seemed almost like it was completely normal. Like we were the weirdos because we still had our clothes on."

"Do you think you could just do this with friends?" she asked.

"I don't know, " he replied. "I don't think I have any friends who would go to a nude beach. Then again, it is not really something I have talked about... maybe I should bring it up sometime."

"Hmm. I think it might be difficult though," she mused. "Once you have known someone for a time, the step of taking of your clothes might be harder. There is already an image of them in your mind, you know?"

"Maybe that is why it will be easier for us. We don't have that image yet."

"Who says I haven't gotten used to you by know?"

"Well, I guess we are not exactly here as friends either..." she said. She trailed off in the middle of the sentence, distracted by something.

"Anyway, we should pick a spot. Then we can go for a swim! Up there should be nice." she went on, pointing to a sandy outcrop a bit further on.

His mind grew ever more aware what it meant to go for a swim. A heat that had been building ever since he had laid eyes on Marie at the station reached a crescendo. He tried to steady himself.

...............................................................................................

The spot beyond the small hill that they had picked offered a nice shelter from the wind. At that time in May, with the late-spring sunbeams bearing down, it was truly a comfortable little abode. They put their bags down, spread their towels, and took their shoes off; small moments to delay what was about to happen.

"Are you still comfortable with this?" he asked. "If you are not, that is totally okay. We could also take it slowly, try just our underwear first."

"Come on Sam! we have gotten this far already. Let's not back down now."

"Plus, I am not wearing any underwear." Again, she smiled.

Like a ship paddling against the current leading to a waterfall, Sam started to rattle. "Okay, so how do you want to do this? Do we just like, take it all off? Do you want me to go first? Do you want me to turn around?" The questions were coming so fast he couldn't keep up. It seemed like his brain had taken this exact moment to realize he would be undressing in front of a stranger.

"Sam," she said. "Let's just do this."

She looked at him straight and slowly began to undo the buttons at the front of her dress. Time seemed to slow down.

She was, indeed, not wearing any underwear. When she arrived at the second button, he could see her midriff, without a hint of a bra obscuring flesh. Her breasts were still covered by the two sides of her dress.

As she went lower, her belly button came into sight crowning what was a surprisingly toned stomach. As she breathed out, he could see the outlines of her abs.

Lower still, and he could see curly tufts of dark pubic hair come into view. He was happy she wasn't shaved. It seemed to add to the mystery. Even when she would have taken everything off, he wouldn't have seen everything there was to see. That made him feel almost as many butterflies as the thought that she was a movement away from being completely undressed.

After she undid the last button, she opened up the dress, showing herself. Like he'd expected, a dark patch of pubic hair obscured the lips of her vulva. Above, the fabric fell away and revealed small, lively breasts each dotted with a rosy nipple, that seemed hard enough to be hazardous.

"I am sorry," she said. "I guess I am the one that is a bit excited now."

"You are beautiful," he said. And she was. She seemed like she had done this a thousand times before. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to be standing naked in front of a stranger. She looked like a sea nymph that had just come ashore, unaware of the fact that people usually wore clothes on land.

"Aren't you a little warm over there mister?" Her comment awoke him from his stupor. Quickly he took off his shirt and slid down his trousers (though with considerably less grace than she'd undone her dress before). With a deep breath, he took of his underpants.

He wasn't hard of course, that would have been way over the line. The fact that they were at a nude beach together didn't mean that they had agreed to be intimate together. As of now, they were still two people getting to know each other. Still, he was not entirely soft either. The slow striptease, along with the eye-contact definitely added to the heat.

As his dick sprang into view her eyes immediately dropped downward, and up again, like she was surprised at her own reaction.

"I think it is okay to look," Sam said. "I think that will make it feel more natural in the end. You know, there will be less to hide."

Having gotten his permission, she let her eyes slowly roam down his body, as he looked at hers. It was like looking at a beautiful painting for the first time. When you are hit with the full picture, it can be overwhelming trying to take it all in. Slowly though, by observing all the tiny details, you can build an understanding of its entirety.

He saw her neckline, and how it gracefully dipped downwards, and then rose again to a pinnacle with her pink nipples. He could draw a line from her feet to her hips, colouring in everything in between. He could see her fully, realizing just how tiny she was, from her hands to her shoulders, from her waist to her butt. Still every detail was subtle and added a depth of realness. It was a wonderful thing to behold.

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