Saving Grace

"No!"

Linda shook her dark tresses to make sure Ann got the point, but Ann was not looking at her.

"A promise is a promise," said Ann, distracted. She lounged on the condo's secluded balcony, soaking up the sun, topless."I've been counting on you for tomorrow. Sort of."

"I said I would go to the beach with you, sure, but that was before I realized it was National Nude Day. I know you, Ann. You're going to be on display for everyone to see."

"You've got a wonderful body, Linda. You're a swimmer. You should be showcased for the world."

"Forget it, Ann. Certainly not at Snugglers' Strand. Half the beach is cameras and perverts."

"Yes, but only half. And it's Smugglers' Strand. We'll be among friends, those who enjoy nudity."

"Your friends, you mean. Come on, Ann. I don't appreciate being ogled."

Ann sighed, left the balcony to talk face-to-face with Linda. As usual, her breasts rode high despite their robust fullness. Ann was also completely nude. Her blond hair was piled loosely on top.

"Couldn't wait for tomorrow to work on your all-over tan?" Linda said.

Ann smiled and grabbed a bath towel. "Let's compromise. You'll come with me tomorrow, but you can bring a friend. I don't care if he wants to be naked or not, but I want compliant company at the beach."

Linda considered, tapping her finger on her chin. "If I'm bringing someone, then I want you to bring someone, too." Linda reasoned that Ann would have trouble getting a companion to join her. She cycled through men rather quickly and few lasted an entire month. She held a year-long torch for a drug dealer now in jail and an elderly monsignor, her confessor, who had been shipped to remote parish.

Ann thought about the challenge of finding someone. She finally shrugged her shoulders, making the bath towel slide to the floor. Her ass wiggled on long tan legs as she sashayed into the bath to shower.

Before she closed the door, Ann said, "Okay. You bring someone, I'll bring someone. They can both meet us here tomorrow morning—early."

The next morning dawned with clear skies and little breeze. It would be a hot one. Linda checked her watch when neither her nor Ann's guests had arrived yet.

Ann, in her calm, deliberate way, prepared a basket with wine, cheese, crackers, grapes, some ham, apples, and condiments. A day's worth of lite Mexican beer chilled and clinked in a cooler. Ann wore her plum and gray transparent wrap over her yellow bikini. The bikini was surprisingly conservative, with high waisted bottoms and a top that hugged her breasts completely. Linda's bikini was more daring, with high cuts at the hips and a revealing view of her cleavage. Linda folded blankets and towels as they waited.

The doorbell rang. Ann kept packing, so Linda answered. A tall, model-gaunt woman, weari ng a loose white blouse and too-big denim shorts with frayed bottoms stood alone at the door. Her long, gamine legs crooked together at her knobby knees. On her left thigh, a few faint bruise marks showed. Her caramel blond hair was parted evenly along the top and fell in waves across her narrow face. A quick spark beneath her cascading hair hinted at the presence of sunglasses protecting her eyes, which were trained at her sandaled feet. Her violet toenail polish was chipped.

"Can I help you?" Linda asked.

"Is Ann here," a meek voice answered.

"Hello, Grace," Ann called from the kitchen area. "So glad you could make it. She's Linda. She'll be joining us today."

Grace bowed her head toward Linda and slinked into the condo.

"Welcome, Grace," said Linda. "May I bring you a Bloody Mary, a screwdriver, a mimosa?"

"No, no, no, thank you. Can I help at all?"

"No," said Ann. "Make yourself comfortable. We're waiting for Linda's friend to arrive."

Grace tapped a long, thin cigarette out of her new pack. Before she lit it, Ann told her, "Not in the condo, please. Use the balcony."

Grace gravitated to the secluded balcony and stretched out onto the chaise lounge. She kicked off her sandals and wiggled her toes. A narrow stream of smoke left her thin lips, She put the cigarette to her lips again.

"Where did you find her?" Linda whispered to Ann.

"The Battered Women's Forum at our Church. I thought she might use a self-esteem boost."

"Do you think it's such a good idea today? You're likely to smother her self-worth if you make her strip on a party beach."

"Based upon what she's told the group, it's a chance I'm willing to take. I've kept up my end of our bargain. Whether your friend comes or not, you still have to come to the beach. Perhaps I'll strip you on the party beach."

Linda laughed nervously and grabbed her white coverup. Ann finished packing with a smug smile on her face.

The doorbell rang. Linda ran to the door and swung it open.

"Hello-o-o-o, Linda! How do I look?"

A fiery red-head posed with one arm high overhead and her wide hips cocked to one side. She wore a metallic green bikini that caught the early sun and flashed sunlight into the condo. The bikini clung like it had been molded to the red-head's ample curves. Her smile was just as bright, outlined by a bright orange lip gloss. She carried a large striped towel and walked barefoot.

"You look wonderful. I'm so glad you could make it. The bank was able to spare you for the day?"

The red-head threw her head back and laughed a trilling call. "What's the fun of being a vice-president if I can't take a day off now and then? Right?"

She danced in and held out her hand to Linda. Freckles sprinkled along her outstretched hand, her arm, her shoulders, and spilled over her back and between her bulging cleavage. There were even freckles on her thighs. She bounced over to Ann in the kitchen, her spotted hand outstretched.

"Hi. You can call me Red." She ruffled her copper hair. "My name's spelled B-i-n-g-e. It's German. You can pronounce it 'Binga,' like 'ringa-dinga-ding.' I've also heard it pronounced to rhyme with 'Pinch.' What's your name?"

Ann looked down her nose at the bundle of curves and freckles bubbling like a small volcano in front of her. Ann held out her elongated hand, shot a quick, disappointed look at Linda, and then smiled warmly at Red. "Welcome. My name is Ann. I like the audacity of your bikini. It's sure to draw a crowd."

"You think so? It's new, and not like I the ones I usually buy. But I thought, 'What the hell?' You only live once, right? I just hope I don't meet any of my banking clients." She waggled her russet eyebrows and winked. "We're going to Smugglers' Strand, right? That's the clothing optional beach, right?" Her brown eyes sparkled with mischief.

Ann smirked. "I think you're hoping we might see some of your banking clients. And that they will see you."

Binge giggled and covered her face with her hand.

"Let's go," said Ann. Grace flicked her cigarette butt off the balcony. An arc of orange sparks tracked its trajectory. Then, she shuffled toward the door.

"Sorry," Grace said, to no one in particular.

Smugglers' Cove was located at the foot of a steep cliff, and often submerged in water. When it was not waterlogged, the sand was soft and white and inviting. Today was a dry day. The waves broke far out to the horizon. The beach was desperate, windblown, and lonely much of the year, but not during the summer months. Only the most agile, young, and athletic sunbathers could make the treacherous descent to the soft sand. They attracted each other.

Ann selected a spot where the beach changed from soft sand to rocky outcrops. To their left as they faced the water, the sand formed a smooth, warm, golden mantle. Towels and blankets formed a patchwork quilt as far as the eye could see, punctuated by an occasional beach umbrella or low cloth fences to give the illusion of privacy. A few volleyball nets stretched across the beach, complete with naked and nearly-naked competitors of both sexes. Cornhole boxes were strewn about the strand, close enough that the plop and slap of bags thrown by the players could be heard above the grumble of the breaking waves on the beach.

Grills and beach fires flared. The aroma of charred meat, vegetables, and bread competed with the salty tang of the ocean breeze. Guitar players strummed while their listeners swayed shoulder to shoulder. Red cylindrical boom boxes blasted ruder, insistent music, whose audience twerked and popped, kicking up sprays of sand in time with the beats.

To Ann's right, the beach was strewn with rocks and boulders, some shoulder high. That was both the problem and the opportunity. Freaks with cameras lurked among those rocks, as well as more dangerous perverts. On the right, there was more privacy, but also more danger.

Ann had picked a veritable oasis that straddled the soft beach and the rocky beach. She enjoyed playing dangerously while being able to retreat to safety.

The four friends lay on four towels, sipping bottles of Mexican beer, still wearing their suits. An oversized red-and-white umbrella fluttered to the rear. The music they listed to was dramatically classical. The sun blazed brightly, bouncing rays off the cliff face and the undulating sea.

Ann stretched out on her back, her swimmer's legs muscled and taut as she pointed her toes. Linda lay on her side, reading a book about women's rights. Grace was facedown on her front. She wore a white suit that technically was a bikini, but could not be considered sexy. Her bottoms came to her belly button and fully covered her rear. There were small, white ruffles all over the suit. Her top held her closely, but unnecessarily. She had small breasts, which matched her gaunt legs. Another bruise showed on her left ribs, clearly visible. Her head rested on her arms, her face in the towel, her caramel blond hair spilling to each side.

Occasionally, sunbathers and swimmers would pass by their oasis, saying very little to any to them. Some of the paraders were naked, some wore suits or parts of suits, all checking out the scene. Nothing attracted them to Ann's group.

Binge sat up. She crossed her ample legs and her padded arms. Her metallic green bikini gleamed under the bright sun.

"Well? When does the fun start?" she demanded.

Linda lifted her head, raised her sunglasses, and said, "I'm having fun. This is so relaxing."

Grace didn't move.

Ann closed her book, sat up.

"Binge's right. It's time to start enjoying National Nude Day." Ann proudly pulled off her top. Her perfect breasts wobbled but sat high on her chest. The pink nipples pointed slightly skyward, the tips tight and wrinkly.

Binge looked as though she wanted to taste those pink tips. Neither Linda nor Grace moved.

"I'm fine like this," said Linda.

Ann turned to Grace. "Time to enjoy the sun, Gracie. Time to strip down a bit."

Grace shook her head. "I can't. I'm sorry. If my husband found out, he would kill me. No, literally, he would kill me."

"Look around. Do you see your husband here? Are you likely to see him here? Come on. Time to live a little, Gracie." Ann leaned forward to pet her on her head, but Grace just hid her face closer to the blanket.

"I'll try later, okay, Ann? I'm sorry."

"Take your time, dear." Ann took a deep breath; her tits expanded with her chest. She faced Binge.

"Well, Red? Moment of truth. Have you seen any of your bank clients yet, or are you ready to get free?"

In response, Binge stood up and chugged the last of her beer. She looked like a red-headed hourglass—wide, wide hips, plump thighs that narrowed to slim calves and ankles; an armful of boobs bursting from their restraints; a tiny, narrow waist that needed no belt to cinch it. Binge looked right, looked left. No clients in sight. She unclasp her bra and wiggled it free from her arms. Binge glanced right and left again, then lowered her arms to her sides. Freckles spilled down the tops of her breasts, making Binge seem even more embraceable and playful.

Linda had done a good job choosing Binge. She was easily Ann's sexy equal on this beach. Grace lifted her face to assess Binge, and a surprising smile brightened her face. She gave Binge two thumbs up while still lying on her tummy.

From the rocky right, the home to cameras and perverts, nervous laughs and high-pitched squeaks announced the approach of a small group. Three nude women, looking very comfortable with their bodies, leaned against three men wearing swimming trunks. One pale, skinny, young man grinned like a kid in a toy shop. The older man walked like a football player, with large shoulders and narrow hips, muscular thighs and arms, and permanent-frizzed hair. The last man strode as confidently as a male model, proud of his flat stomach, wavy dark hair, and slim legs. His smile beamed, and the three nude women lit up whenever his cornflower blue eyes scanned their ever-moving bodies.

The ex-football player called to Ann's group. "We need some more volleyball players. Anyone there up for a game?"

Only Ann accepted the offer. She nodded, confidently.

Linda raised her hand to wave them off. "I'm fine. Thanks."

Grace kept still, face down. A beer half-buried in the sand was leaning against her cheek.

Binge had spun away from the new group, hiding her face. She reached for her metallic green bra top that covered her toes and lifted it up. Her arms crossed her breasts as she hunched her shoulders, the bra top dangling. "Bank clients!" she hissed to Ann.

Ann threw back her head and laughed. "Of course, she'll play, too."

Binge shook her head in tiny, almost imperceptible, shakes.

Ann slapped the green bra top out of Binge's hands and whirled her around, holding Binge's arms at her sides, giving the "bank clients" a satisfying gawk at their vice-president. Binge squeezed shut her eyes.

"Well, well, well," said the ex-football player with frizzed hair. "One meets the nicest naked people at the beach. Wyatt, Phil, you remember our beautiful bank president, Binge, don't you?" He rhymed her name with "pinch."

Hello's sounded from the other two men, who circled the oasis.

Binge startled at the unearned promotion her client had given her. Her eyes flew open in time to see the ex-football player pointing his phone at her, snapping pictures.

"You certainly sell those curves," he said, changing his phone from landscape to portrait and back again.

"Brick! You're naughty! Put that phone away!" The three naked women with him teased his photo-taking but didn't dare order him to stop. They provocatively pawed each other, trying to corral his attention. But Brick was enraptured with Binge. However, the pale man also had his phone out, and by the steady way he held it, it was clear he was recording a movie of Binge.

At the sound of the name "Brick," Grace's head bounced up, knocking over the beer against her cheek. A single eye looked out from her curtain of hair. Grace spied the person named "Brick" and covered her face with her hands.

The handsome guy positioned himself directly over Linda, studying her perfect swimmer's form, giving only a passing glance to conservatively-dressed Grace.

"You know," said the guy, his voice dripping with persuasive confidence, "you really don't need that suit. I mean, it's pretty and all, but it leaves nothing to the imagination. It fits tighter than the skin on a hot dog."

Linda squirmed, knowing that he was watching every change in her position.

Brick wasn't done playing. He addressed Ann and Binge. "Great! You can come and play volleyball. But you can see the official uniform." He indicated the three naked ladies with him.

Binge screeched. Then, she relaxed and to everyone's surprise, assumed a confident, cheesecake pose.

"You're not in uniform," Binge said to him, a sly smile on her face. She reached out to pull his swimsuit.

"Whoa, there. Just whoa," he said. "But I see your point." He hitched his thumbs into his suit and tugged it down a little. "Now, on the count of three, we'll all assume the uniform. After all, this is... What is it, ladies?"

The three naked ladies curled and twined among themselves, but in unison answered. "National Nude Day!" They giggled. Ann shook her head. She didn't wait for the count of three. She slipped her bottoms off her hips, stood with straight-legged as they slipped down her thighs, past her knees, to puddle at her ankles. With a step and a flick of her foot, she flipped those bottoms to her spot at the oasis. She didn't pose, but every eye was riveted on her anyway.

Binge whistled as she would for a wandering mongrel. Brick's attention snapped back to her. "What about me?"

Brick pointed to Grace and Linda, who still lay in full suits on their towels. "Join us?"

"Not today, big boy," Linda said. Grace shook her head, too.

The handsome guy smiled broadly at both of them, but to no avail. "I can respect that. Perhaps later. My name is Wyatt, by the way."

Linda opened one eye and nodded. Grace didn't move.

"Okay," Brick pronounced. "On the count of three! One....Two...."

Binge had her fingers on her bottoms, edging them down inch by inch.

"...Two and a half..."

The naked ladies tittered at Brick's playfulness.

With an even louder shout, Brick called, "Three!" and pretended to pull off his trunks. Binge didn't pretend. Her metallic green bikini bottom flew off her lower parts, landing at her feet.

"Whoa!" said Brick. The pale man, Phil, was still recording, with a slender chubby tenting his trunks.

The sight of Binge's nude body shocked Brick. For one thing, she sported a narrow, but very discernable, strip of flaming red pubic hair. For another, freckles dotted her abdomen down to her fiery patch. Freckles abounded on her legs as well.

Brick put his arm around Binge's shoulders. He was at least a head taller than she was, but he pulled her close for a hug. Binge didn't resist, not even when he grabbed her soft, wide ass in both hands. Her breasts squashed against his broad chest. He stretched an arm to pull Ann closer, but Ann sniffed and marched stiff-legged toward the rocks.

Wayne straightened, and in parting, told Linda and Grace, "It's been nice to meet you. I hope you'll join us later. Please?" He said it in such an engaging way that Linda couldn't help but smile. She knew that her smile was all he needed to keep coming back. The thought occurred to her that perhaps he was all she needed, too.

Linda lay quiet for a while before she sat up. The sun beat on them from high in the sky. She looked over at the long, thin figure lying next to her wearing a swimsuit from the 1950s. She heard the Fwissh of another beer bottle opening.

"Grace?" she said.

"Hmmm?"

"Why did you let Ann talk you into coming here if you were going to hide yourself all day? Isn't that kind of a waste?"

Grace shrugged.

"Look. It's a beautiful day. Nobody is going to bother us now that those volleyball players have left. Come on. It's time to tan your tummy if nothing else."

Grace giggled at that. She sat up with crossed legs and lit a cigarette. As she blew out a swirling stream of smoke, she visibly relaxed.

"That's better. Now let me pull your hair up and back a little, like this." Linda took the long dirty blond locks and scooped them back. She twisted them into a loose bun, and pinned them up. "There. See? You have a lovely neck and beautiful shoulders."

"I shouldn't," Grace said but didn't lay down.

"Why shouldn't you? You're among friends here, and you're safe. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I trust you. It's my husband. He's extremely jealous."

Linda noticed the bruises on her ribs and legs again. There might also have been a bruise on her cheek, but it was fading. She asked delicately, "Does he have anything to be jealous about?"

"No! Of course not!" Grace shifted, sat on her knees, her slender legs beneath her. "It's just that, he's so crazy. He won't let me to wear any of the new kinds of suits"