tagExhibitionist & VoyeurAt Trinity Beach

At Trinity Beach


Each New Year's Eve, I sit down with my diary and write out a list of things to look forward to over the next twelve months. I prefer not to call them resolutions. Mostly they are needs, which I turn into opportunities to look forward to. That way, even the shitty ones have a positive spin to them. And there can be a lot of shitty ones!

I also look back at how I went during the year about to end. That's what I was doing this morning, when I reached the entry 'Amy- colleague or buddy?'

Let me explain what this is about.

I reckon there's a hierarchy that goes acquaintance, colleague, friend, partner and buddy that can be used to define relationships. Thinking like this serves me well because it creates a special place beyond partner for the things that can't be disclosed to a partner, or dealt with in that kind of relationship. Amy and I are colleagues - have been for four years now. We have little contact outside of work, so I wouldn't call her a friend. Yet, every now and then, we have these awkward moments: conversations and situations that would be better handled if we knew more about where each other stood. Another thing. Some days I think Amy is the most beautiful woman in the world. Other days, I think Christiane Paul might have the edge. Anyone who has read my submissions will know I have felt this way about other women too, like Bree and Bess. Hardly happy endings, you may recall. In Amy's case, I was determined not to make the same mistakes. Hence the entry 'Amy- colleague or buddy?'

I found the answer at Trinity Beach.


Two days before my trip to visit a native plant nursery at Trinity Beach, Amy's partner of three years proposed to her. I found out when she rang as planned to let me know if she was coming on the trip or not. . I'm not the kind of guy to say 'I'm happy for you.' So I didn't. This lack of excitement at the news prompted Amy to ask, "Am I still invited?" "Of course. Why would you ask?"

"Well, given that I accepted his proposal, I thought you might want to change your mind."

"Hey! We're going to a plant nursery- remember? That's all. Why should you miss out because you are getting married?"

"I'm really relieved you feel that way," Amy replied. "And I do want your help with plants for my garden."

"Good. But I also have a surprise or two in store for you."

"Ooooh! I don't like the sound of that."

"Trust me. I'm well aware what is NOT going to happen between us."

"That's not what I was thinking. It's any other surprises you might have in mind I'm worried about."

"Well don't be. You won't be put in a position to do anything you don't want to."

"So why can't you tell me now?"

"It wouldn't be the same."

"What if I insist?"

"How about a compromise? I'll tell you when I pick you up. So there is still time for you to say no," I offered.

Amy took a while to reply. "Something tells me I should be saying no now. But I'll go along with it. As long as you remember it will be your fault if you end up leaving on your own."


I arrived right on nine to pick Amy up. She was glowing. She wore shorts and a sleeveless top, the kind that showed a bit of bra strap from time to time. This time it was showing 'peach'.

"All packed?" I asked.

"Ever the punctual!" she teased, mindful of my obsession with being on time. "Do I need to bring anything in particular?"

"Just a dress you can wear in public with no underwear."

"I don't do that!"

"But if you did, what dress would it be?"

"I don't like the sound of this already!"

"Pack it anyway. I'll explain later." She did.


I don't think people make enough of the time spent traveling. Amy is one of those girls who tuck their legs under them and sit facing you. Not the safest way to travel, I know, but it connects people. We chatted amicably all of the way.

"If you could do your dream job, what would it be?" she asked.

"A profiler."

"Why a profiler?"

"I like the idea of sorting things out; solving things. Not that I know anything about profiling. It just appeals to me."

"That's you all right," Amy said. "Never satisfied unless you have analyzed everything to death."

"Really? Just because I do those questionnaires from the Internet we get on e-mail at work- the one's you won't do."

"I'm not telling everyone at work that kind of stuff!" Amy explained.

"So does that make you a private person, or just plain boring?"

"You'd be surprised," she joked.

"Not if I was a profiler I wouldn't be. I'd already have you sorted out."

"Oh yeah. Go on then. Pretend. Work me out."

"I can't. I haven't got the information."

"I usually get into trouble giving out information."

'Not from me, you don't."

"Not from you, maybe. But you know my last trip to Brisbane with Tim? Well, we bumped into an old acquaintance of mine. I invited him to join us for a chat over coffee. Tim got really jealous and wanted to know how I knew the guy. I explained he was someone I had a fling with, but nothing happened."

"Mmmm. Wrong explanation," I said to Amy. "Men aren't satisfied with that. In our minds something always happens. It's just a matter of what."

"So how should I have answered?"

"That depends on your relationship. He may have been thinking you were keeping something from him. So I'd put it back on him, by asking 'why do you want to know?' And keep asking why, until he is facing the truth about his motive for wanting to know. Then you can do something about it."

"And what if I needed to tell him? What if it was important to me that I didn't have to lie or deny my past?"

"Then you need him to be more than a partner and a friend. You need him to be a buddy too. A soul-mate."

"Are you my buddy, Charlie?"

"That's a strange question, at this moment."

"Ever since you explained it to me, I've been wondering whether we were buddies or not."

"Me too!"


"I don't think we can just declare it. Why don't we try to be buddies for this trip, and see how it goes? Which means whatever is said or done, stays with us."

"I'm all for that."

"Good! Now I need that information."

"What for?"

"Your profile. Remember?"

The next half hour or so flew by as we joked and teased our way through a clumsy attempt to develop a profile of the kind of relationships Amy was most likely to have. We started with her having to disclose past details to work with. She declined, but said I could guess at a typical one. I suggested she was most likely to have an affair with a well educated man, two years her senior, with a better than average income or prospects. And they would have sex on the third date, on her initiative, after he missed the signals on their second date.

"Not bad. Not too bad at all!" Amy complimented. "You've been talking to Tim. But it misses the mark for some things I've done."

"So tell me about the one least likely!"

"Mmmn. That would really be telling. Let's just say a lot younger, a lot sooner, and no prospects at all!"

"A fling in other words?"

"Alcohol and abstinence induced."

"Makes sense to me."

"It would. Even though you don't drink, you are the acclaimed expert on abstinence!" she joked, playfully slapping me hard on the arm.


Eventually we arrived at the Trinity Beach village and checked into the resort hotel. Separate rooms. I dealt with the formalities while Amy wandered over to an impressive native garden beside an aviary.

"They're connecting rooms. Is that all right?" the hired help at reception asked.

"No worries!" I answered. I booked into room seventeen; Amy into eighteen.

"By the way," he called as I was exiting the office, "that extra key is to the door between the rooms. It only opens from seventeen."

When we got to our rooms, I offered seventeen to Amy. "You'd best take this one. It 's got the key to the dividing door."

"Don't get your hopes up!" she laughed. "I won't be using it. Anyway, what are you doing about dinner?"

"All taken care of," I replied.

"Are you going to tell me?"

'Nuh! Except we are going out. How soon can you be ready?"

"Depends where we are going," she countered.

"You need that dress, some casual shoes, and your engagement ring. That's all!"

"In your dreams, Charlie!" she laughed, closing the door. A moment later she called, "Give me fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes and ten seconds later, I knocked on her door.

"All set?" I asked.

"As ready as I will ever be."

That dress turned out to be a sleeveless number with tiny shoulder straps. Shortish, but not too short, with a deep plunging back and bold tropical pattern, it could have come from any of the beach front shops within walking distance. The look was finished off with flat court shoes, a big diamond ring, and a tiny choker that worked for some reason.

Amy fairly skipped along the esplanade, often getting well ahead of me. When we reached the sand, she bent to remove her shoes. Her dress fell open, revealing her large unrestrained breasts. I stared a moment and got caught when she looked up. She pressed the top of her dress against her.

"Ooops! I'll have to be careful with this dress," she giggled. Then she was off again, racing ahead; her dress hitched up to avoid the spray of the waves emptying onto the shore. We rounded the rocky point, and headed directly towards the last rays of the dying sun. It was as if the dress was instantly transparent, placing Amy's long legs on show. I could see no sign of panties. A G-string was a possibility. An unlikely one.

We arrived at the open air beach-side restaurant where I had made the bookings for four. Jess, a colleague of ours who lives nearby, and her husband Les, were already there.

Amy doesn't like Jess. She doesn't dislike her either. Not really. It's just that Jess isn't a girl's girl, if you know what I mean.

At the first chance she got, Amy pulled me aside. "I can't believe you arranged this. You know what I think of her. She's going to be competing with me all night for attention!"

"No chance of her winning though, is there?" I smiled.

"Is that what the dress is about?" she queried.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think."

"Well, when you get a chance, take a bit of notice of what's going on. See who the guys are noticing. Jess will, that's for sure."

Despite the hiccup at the start, dinner went well. Les is a nice enough guy, though his eyes wander quite a bit. More than once Jess caught him ogling Amy as she bounced down the stairs from the bar. Then again, such was the impression Amy had made on the patrons, Les would have been the odd man out if he hadn't been looking.

Too quickly, the meals were over. "Guess it's time to move on," Amy said. "Lets find a good coffee shop."

"I've got that part of the night sorted, " Jess replied. "Coffee and massages at my place."

Amy looked more than a little perplexed.

"Don't worry," I said. "Jess is a masseuse. A good one."

I'm not entirely sure Amy wasn't secretly wishing Les was the one with the talented hands.


Over coffee at Jess's, the girls finally started to hit it off. Maybe it was the security Jess felt being at home- in her own territory- or maybe it was the fact that Les's attempts to impress Amy had become almost comical as the drink took hold. Jess had obviously seen this before.

"It's time you disappeared to the shed and spent some time with your fishing boat," Jess admonished. She'll be missing you."

Like an obedient puppy he did, and I surmised it was a scenario played out more than once or twice before. With Les out of the way, Jess led Amy and me to the massage room.

"Who's first?" Jess demanded. . "Ladies first," I proposed.

"No- you go," offered Amy. "You've done this before."

That was true. On a previous visit here, Jess had told me to strip down to my jeans, or jocks if I was comfortable with that, and had left the room until I was undressed and under the sheet. The thing I remembered most about that occasion was the way she placed herself really close, her slow controlled breaths caressing my skin. For a while, her fingers had slid under my jocks, working the soft tissue on my butt. Eventually she had rolled the jocks down a little.

This time I wore none.

I peeled off my shirt in front of the two women. I wasn't in bad shape for someone my age - 47 - though I 'd been better. In my mind, I had run this next bit over and over. My dick is not overly large, just seven inches, but it has this habit of still hanging down when semi-hard at a bit over five. That's the condition it was in now. Given I'm a little skinny fellow, a slack five seems even bigger.

So it was not a difficult decision to peel off my jeans while in that state.

To their credit, both women played it cool.

"Not worrying about the jocks this time?" Jess commented. "Now I can give that fat butt of yours a decent going over!"

I climbed onto the table.

"Amy, what do you want to do?" Jess asked. "This will take half an hour or so."

"I'll stay and see what I'm in for," Amy replied, then instantly realised her comment could have been taken differently. "Ooops! I mean see what the massage is like."

"Yeah sure," Jess said, "We know what you really meant. Anyway, Charlie was so quick off the mark, I've still got to slip out for a moment and change."

I lay on the table and felt Amy's eyes burning through the sheet.

"Having a good time?" I asked her.

"I am! You are full of surprises."

"You mean no jocks?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Glad you approve. Wait 'til it's your turn. I'm looking forward to seeing Jess's face when you drop that dress."

"Who says you are invited to stay around?"


During my massage, Amy asked Jess a string of questions. "No, I don't do erotic massage, but occasionally girls ask me to help them get off," Jess explained. "Yes, so far I have restrained from providing the same service to men. No, Les never comes in. Not ever."

No sooner had my massage ended, Jess was asking, "What are you going to do, Charlie, while it's Amy's turn?"

"I'll leave you girls to it, and go and find Les."

I swear I saw disappointment etched on Amy's face.

"Please yourself," Amy interrupted, slipping the straps off her shoulders. She allowed the dress to fall to her waist, her breasts swaying. They were bigger than I had imagined, and sagged a little, both facts accentuated when she wiggled a little more than necessary to get the dress over her hips.

The top of her bush came into full view- full and lush; the kind that would easily get out of hand. She had obviously recently shaved the bikini lines. Then the dress was on the floor, and she quickly climbed onto the table. She lay face down, her breasts squashed out to the sides. She pulled the sheet up to her waist and lay there, her face towards me.

I left and headed for the shed. The lights inside were still on, though Les was nowhere to be found. I waited for a while, expecting him to return at any time. He didn't, so I wandered around the garden, where the sprinklers were noisily toiling away, soaking the orchids and palms with a refreshing mist. I found a garden bench, and settled there, until the mosquitoes found me and I retreated to the house.

The sound of Les's snoring drifted from the main bedroom and I decided to return to the massage room. Jess was sitting on the lounge, quietly cleaning the oils from her hands. Amy lay on her side on the table, facing Jess. Before I could retreat, Amy spotted me, and smiled one of those contented smiles you see after sex.

I bet she knew it was that kind too.


On the walk back to the hotel, I could sense Amy and I had grown even closer. The scent of the aromatic oils cut the night air, adding to the atmosphere.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?" she asked.

"How do you mean?"

"Getting married."

"That's about the last question I'd expect tonight," I answered, hoping to divert her attention to the here and now.

"Sorry," Amy whispered.

"Did you have a good night?" I asked.

"Mmmn. A few surprises- mostly pleasant."

"I was hoping all of them were. Anyway thanks for wearing what you did," I added sincerely.

"That's OK. I think when I get home, I'll tell my friends about you. How you can show a girl a good time. And I might even mention you have a nice dick!"

"That would take some explaining if it got back to your fiance."

"Oh yeah. I'd better skip that part."

When we arrived at the hotel, the night club was in full swing.

"Let's go," Amy called, grabbing my arm and dragging me before I had a chance to reply.

"Cripes! Amy. Take it easy on me. I'm twice your age, don't forget."

"You are not!" she argued. "Not quite. Come. I'll be happier if you are there. You know- to keep an eye out for me."

"I wouldn't want to cramp your style."

"You wouldn't be. I'm not about to play up."

"You mightn't get much of a say in the matter, if you go dressed like that."

"Hey, where's your sense of adventure all of a sudden? You of little faith!"

"You are right," I conceded. "Look, you go ahead, and I'll catch up with you in a while."




By the time I caught up with Amy at the Club, she was by the bar, engaged in a conversation with a burly looking guy with a bald head. I could see by her glowing smile the alcohol was really starting to kick in.

"Hey Charlie!" she called. "Over here."

"This is Bill. He was just inviting me to join his group over at that table instead of drinking alone. I told him I was waiting for you."

"No reason not to join them now," I managed to say.

"I don't know," replied Amy. "Bill, is Charlie invited too?"

"Of course he is!" Bill said, fairly convincingly.

On the short walk over to his table, I noticed Bill put his hand on Amy's bare back, or maybe a little lower, to guide her. I also noticed she didn't flinch.

That's when I had the fateful idea of livening things up for her. Any chance I could get.

I figured the average age of the four guys fell just short of twenty. True to form, they were falling over each other to get Amy's attention. Which meant the same old lines were produced.

"How come we haven't seen you here before?" the redheaded Bluey asked.

"I'm not from around here," Amy explained.

"Course she's not!" scolded Bill. "We would have spotted her long ago if she was."

"So you are all from here then," I interrupted. "We heard that going commando is the norm up here!"

"Sure is!" Bill confirmed with zest. "That and a lot of other traditions we're known for!"

"Really?" teased Amy. "We didn't know about them."


"Meaning we couldn't do what we didn't know about."

"I don't get it," one of them said.

"Oh for Christ's sake!" I exclaimed. "Who is commando tonight?"

Three of the guys put their hands up. So did Amy. I did too, not that anyone noticed.

"Way to go, Amy!" the guys cheered. Then Bill asked, "But how do we know that it's true?"

"You'll have to take my word for it," Amy said, forthrightly.

"I don't think that's good enough." Up until then, the young dark bloke had barely spoken a word. His comment surprised us all, momentarily. Then Amy was on the front foot with him.

"All right then. Who has got the biggest equipment?" "That'll be Gunner," three of them answered in unison. One of the three to answer was the young dark guy. I could see Amy's strategy at risk of falling apart.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yep. Definitely Gunner," they replied.

I have to say Gunner is not a handsome man. So I was taken back when Amy teased, "Well then, what am I doing here? I should be sitting next to him. Who knows, we might work out a way to prove these claims! With that she hopped to her feet, promptly causing a mini crisis as chairs were shuffled about, and Gunner tried to regain his composure.

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