Return to St. George

"Ready?" I asked Julia and Sandy.

Julia turned towards Karl. "Are you sure that you won't come?" Julia asked her husband.

Karl simply spat again.

Julia turned back to me with a sad and embarrassed look on her face. Sandy reached out and put a hand on her mother's bare shoulder. Sandy glanced at Karl with a look of distaste, then turned to me, smiled, and said "We're ready."

The male PSS officer held the door to the room open as Julia, Sandy, and I walked through. The female PSS officer in the outer room opened the outside door. "We're so glad that you've chosen to enjoy St. George," she said brightly to Julia and Sandy. "I'm sure that you will find that being naked is much preferable to being clothed," the officer added.

Outside, Sandy exclaimed "You came on a bicycle?"

"Yes," I answered. "With only a few exceptions, internal combustion engines are banned on St. George. Most of us use bicycles to get around the island. It helps keep us in shape."

"It's worked for you," Sandy said. She and her mother got onto the bench seat on the rear of my bike.

As I started to pedal away from the shelter, Julia said, "I want to apologize for Karl. Our marriage hasn't been working well. This trip was Karl's idea to try to work things out. But he just must be in total control. He won't listen to anyone. He chartered the damned sailboat in Guadeloupe and wanted to sail to Antigua. Everyone knew that a bad storm was coming. But Karl insisted that we had to go when we did, or he'd have to return the boat without going to Antigua. He said that the news always makes storms sound worse than they really are. He almost got us killed but for you and the other people on your rescue boat. Once we got to the shelter, he cursed me for radioing for help. He said that he had it handled. The mast was gone, and the boat was sinking!"

Julia gave one short sob. "When we were at the shelter, Sandy said that she wanted to see St. George. She said that it would be fun to be some place where we had to go naked, Karl called her a 'whore' who just wanted to be 'fucked by a nigger,'" Julia said.

"It isn't the first time he's called me a 'whore,'" Sandy said placidly.

Julia was getting a little worked up venting about her husband. "Yeah. Karl thinks that the swimsuits Sandy wears in competition are too revealing. He's said that she should dive naked since she 'obviously wants to show her cunt to everyone.'"

I kept quiet. I didn't know these people well. It certainly was not my place to comment on Julia's husband or her marriage.

"Anyway," Julia went on, "when Sandy said that she wanted to see St. George, I started thinking and decided that it might be fun and even, maybe, a little sexy to run around naked. I mean, it's not like anyone here knows us. That really pissed Karl off. He called me a 'sick pervert.' Karl thought this trip would help our marriage. It's only reinforced my determination to get out."

This was a conversation which I thought it unwise to join. To change the subject, I started playing a bit of tour guide, describing the part of the island we were passing through. Julia remained quiet for the remainder of the ride. Sandy asked an occasional question. I think she was trying to be polite.

As we arrived at my house, Sandy said, "Your house doesn't have any walls?"

"It does," I replied, "but they retract. I usually leave the house open to get the sea breezes. I'll close the walls around the guest bedroom for you."

Julia broke her silence. "Good god am I tired," she said. "I haven't slept since night before last."

"Have you eaten?" I asked.

"No," Sandy replied, "they didn't offer us anything but water at the shelter."

"I can fix some quick sandwiches if you like. You can eat them while I set up the guest bedroom," I said.

"That would be wonderful," Julia replied.

I quickly made some ham and roast beef sandwiches and set them out with some fruit, a pitcher of ice water, and an open bottle of cabernet. While Julia and Sandy ate, I moved the walls to enclose my guest bedroom. When the women had finished their light meal, I showed them how to lock themselves in and pointed out the small washroom with a commode and sink that was accessible without unlocking the bedroom door. Sandy gave me a peck on my cheek and said, "Thank you Harry." The women went into the bedroom and I heard the deadbolt set.

I was up reasonably early the next morning. I boiled some eggs, sliced some mangoes, and prepared a plate of cold meats and cheeses for the women to eat when they got up. When I finished that task, I went out and sat in one of the Adirondack chairs on my back patio, looking out on the Caribbean.

Around 10:00 a.m., Sandy came out on the patio. I got a better look at her than I had before. She was slender but appeared well muscled. Her longish thighs were very firm, but not thick like a gymnast's. Her breasts were roughly grapefruit size with upturned nipples. Her stomach was flat with visible muscle. Sandy wore her hair at a length below her ears but above her shoulders. Her large blue eyes had a look of good-natured amusement. She had a small, upturned nose and a few freckles on her cheeks. The 'girl-next-door' look was, however, belied by very sensuous, sexy lips. She had very pronounced tan lines around her breasts and around her pubic triangle.

"Good morning," Sandy said as she walked out onto the patio. "I need to lose these tan lines," she said, "they draw attention to my tits and my mound."

"That's a problem?" I asked.

Sandy giggled. "No, I guess not," she said as she sat in the chair next to me. "How much of this is yours?" she asked as she looked around the small cove my house sat on.

"I own everything from the road to the mean high tide line," I said gesturing towards a small stake on the beach. "From there out to the twelve-mile limit belongs to St. George. However, we rarely get people coming through here. There's a family beach just around that point," I concluded gesturing towards the point on the south end of the cove.

"What do you mean by 'family beach?'" Sandy asked.

"Uh, well, the current culture of St. George has influences from the indigenous people and from the 'hippies' who came here in the 1960s," I replied. "The natives did not have the European taboos about sex and the folks who came in the Sixties and early Seventies brought the 'free love' thing. In other words, sex has always been open and public on the island. When the island started to market itself as a tourist destination, they realized that most tourists would come from North America and would find the public sex offensive. Therefore, public sex was outlawed except for a couple of 'adult beaches' and the Garden. All of the other beaches, where open sex isn't allowed, are called 'family beaches.'"

"What is the Garden?" Sandy asked.

"It is this very large park in Chamberlain that was established back when St. George was a colony," I answered. "Since independence, the government has kept it well maintained, but sex is allowed anywhere within the park. It is all strictly consensual, but, if you're in the park, it is assumed that you are willing to have sex. Half of the park is for heterosexuals and the other is for same-sex interactions. It is also understood that anyone may watch anyone else."

"Wow!" Sandy exclaimed. "Doesn't anyone worry about STDs?"

"Yes," I said. "There are free condoms available at several locations in the Garden and most of us who live here get tested at least monthly." I shifted to my left and pointed at a small green dot on my right hip. "A dot in that location with the current month's color tells everyone that you've been tested this month and are clean."

Sandy giggled. "So," she asked, "how often do you go to the Garden and the adult beaches?"

"I've been celibate for just over a year," I admitted.

"Why?" Sandy asked. I briefly explained the situation with Sara. When I was done, Sandy asked "Why do you have the dot then?"

"I guess that I don't want to admit to myself that things have changed," I replied.

"How long were the two of you together?" Sandy asked.

"Almost sixteen years," I answered.

"That was pretty shitty of her to leave after you'd built this house and everything," Sandy said.

"No," I said, "I understood. It was family initially and once Sara got to California and took over her dad's business, she found an outlet for her competitiveness that she'd been missing here. I think that she came to think of being down here as being on the sidelines."

"Pretty damned nice sidelines if you ask me," Sandy said. "I can't believe that you aren't bitter about her leaving."

"I'm not happy about it," I said, "but she has to live her life. I can't control it for her."

"Do you still talk?" Sandy asked.

"Yeah, we talk on the phone about once a month," I replied.

"Is she seeing someone out there?" Sandy asked.

"I assume so," I replied. "Sara is very gregarious and wants people around her. She also loves sex. But she has had the decency not to mention any boyfriends to me."

"That's sad," Sandy said. She stood up. "Do you do yoga?" she asked.

"No," I answered.

"Damn. Then you don't have a yoga mat, do you?" Sandy said.

"Actually, I might," I answered. "Sara did yoga for a while and had a mat. Let me see if it's among the stuff she left." I got up and went off to search through the large closet where I carefully kept the things Sara hadn't taken with her or asked me to ship to her later. Indeed, there was a yoga mat. I brought it out and handed it to Sandy.

"Thanks," she said. "I feel sluggish if I don't do my yoga in the morning."

Sandy spread the mat on my patio in front of the chairs and began some warm-up positions. I made a point of staring off to the south. After a few minutes, Sandy said, "Harry, it's ok if you look. If I was bothered about you seeing me, I'd have gone somewhere else." I looked. As Sandy went through her routine, she was fully exposed to me. My appreciation for her beauty was growing rapidly. I was trying hard to make sure something else wasn't growing and wasn't completely successful.

After about a half hour of yoga, Sandy stopped. She had worked up a sweat which added to her sexiness. "I know that people do yoga in the nude," she said, "but I never have before. This is great! Now, I'm going to be unhappy having to wear clothes in my class at home." Sandy glanced down at my semi-erection and then looked up and smiled at me. "Where's your shower?" she asked.

I pointed to the outdoor shower at the side of the patio. "There are soap, shampoo, and towels in that cabinet," I said.

Sandy's smile broadened. "Another thing I haven't done before: shower outside. This is becoming a trip of firsts." She went over and started her shower.

As Sandy was showering a few feet away, Julia came out onto the patio. Julia was heavier, shorter, and older than her daughter; but I saw a clear resemblance. Julia glanced at the mat and at Sandy in the shower and said, "I guess she did her yoga?" I nodded. Looking around, Julia said, "This is nice. Is it yours?"

"Yes, above the mean high tide line," I answered.

"How long have you been here?" Julia asked.

"Almost fourteen years now," I said.

"You live here alone?" Julia asked.

"For the last year or so, yes," I answered.

"Oh," Julia said. I was glad that she dropped it. Telling Sandy about Sara had been depressing. I didn't want to go through that again.

Sandy finished her shower and walked towards us as she toweled off. "Mom, showering outside is wonderful. You have to try it," Sandy said.

Julia smiled. "I will," she promised.

I served the women the breakfast I had prepared, although it was more of a lunch now. Afterwards, I asked what the women wanted to do. "I slept a long time," Julia said, "but I'm still pretty worn out. It's been a trying couple of days, physically and emotionally. I think I'll just sit here this afternoon and do some thinking. I'll probably go to sleep early again tonight."

"That's fine," I said. "I'll bicycle up to town later and get some fresh fish to grill for dinner."

"Before you do that," Sandy asked, "can we take a walk along the beach?"

"Certainly," I replied, "but you're going to need sunscreen. You don't want to burn any of those white bits." I handed Sandy a tube of sunscreen. I kept them all around the house. I was hoping that Sandy would ask me to put sunscreen on her back, but she asked her mother.

A few minutes later, Sandy and I were walking around the point onto the family beach. There was a decent crowd for a weekday in August. There was a mix of older people, a few folks my age, a few people with children, and even a few teenager/twenty-somethings. Of course, everyone was nude.

We had walked the length of the beach when Sandy said, "I've never been to a nude beach before, so I hadn't thought about it, but it just seems more sensible for everyone to be naked on the beach." She paused. "The sun and breeze over my entire body sure feels better than wearing a swimsuit."

"Have you skinny-dipped?" I asked. "Being in the water nude feels even better."

Sandy giggled. "Once at a quarry during freshman year, but I was a bit drunk."

"You want to swim?" I asked. "We can dry off as we walk home."

"Sure," Sandy said. We walked into the warm sea water. The water was pretty shallow, and we had to go a way out before we were waist deep. At about that point, Sandy turned to look back at the beach. Just as she did, an unusually large wave knocked her off balance. She fell into me. I caught her and our bare bodies touched for a couple of moments. Sandy smiled at me. "Thank you, Harry," she said.

We went further out and swam for twenty minutes or so before we went back to the beach. Brushing the water out of her hair, Sandy said, "Damn, that's ruined me. Now, I'm never going to want to wear a swimsuit again, and I'm on a swim team!" Sandy reached out and took my hand. "Ready to head back?" she asked. We walked naked, hand-in-hand, back around the point to my cove.

I grilled fresh fish to feed Sandy and Julia that night. They both went to bed early. I sat up for a time, trying to read but thinking about the afternoon. I found myself becoming very attracted to Sandy and recognized that was ridiculous. She was only here by accident and she was probably 25 years younger than me. Being lonely warps your thinking.

I always slept with the walls around the master bedroom retracted, so the next morning was not the first time I had been awakened by someone just walking into my bedroom. I heard a male voice saying, "Sleeping in buddy?" It took me a second to place it as my neighbor Art Long.

I had met Art's daughter Joanne before I met him. Partly from Joanne's description but mostly from my own prejudices, I had assumed that Art would be an obnoxious, domineering rich guy. When he started coming to the island with his much younger girlfriend Miriam, I learned that my assumption was grossly in error.

Art was, indeed, very wealthy. He and another man owned a company which created and managed private equity funds from Manhattan. However, Art was not at all pretentious. He was down-to-earth and very knowledgeable on a wide range of subjects. While I found Miriam to be shallow, Art and I had become pretty good friends.

Waking and gathering my senses, I sat up and asked, "How'd you get here? The airport's closed."

"Not as of this morning," Art replied. "We flew the company jet in this morning. A big CA jet took off just after we cleared the runway."

"Where's Miriam?" I asked. Art never came to St. George without his girlfriend.

Art gave a rueful smile. "Miriam traded me in on a younger model," he said, "son of a big-time real estate developer in the City. The father's a bastard, but the son might be ok."

Sandy and Julia walked in just then. I climbed out of bed and made introductions. I also explained, briefly, how the two women came to be on the island and staying with me. To Julia, I said, "Art says that the airport is open now."

Julia started out of the room and then stopped. "Shit. I can't call him. Karl lost his phone with the boat. Sandy and I had ours in our waterproof fanny packs, but Karl left his in the galley."

"I can call the shelter," I said. "They'll let you talk to him." It took me a few minutes to find the number for the PSS "clothed persons shelter" at the airport. When I called, I was told that Karl Harlow had been released onto the Caribbean Air flight that left for Miami that morning. I reluctantly shared that information with Julia and Sandy.

Sandy seemed unfazed, but Julia was pissed. "That bastard left the island without even telling me, and left us here?"

Sandy put an arm on her mother' shoulder. "Mom, it's ok. I think it is working out better this way."

I took Art aside and quickly explained what I knew of Julia's and Karl's rapidly unravelling marriage.

Stepping back to Julia and Sandy, I asked, "When were you planning to go home?"

"Sunday," Julia said. "School starts for Sandy the week after next."

"Where are you going?" Art asked.

"Columbus, Ohio," Julia said.

Taking his cell phone out of a small pouch he had slung over his shoulder, Art said, "Let me check on something." He talked softly on his phone for a couple of minutes then made a second call. I overheard Art end that call with "I'll be back in the office Monday."

To Julia, Art said, "I can stay a few days and my pilot won't mind, she loves St. George. She doesn't mind diverting to Columbus on our way back to New York. I can give you a lift if you like."

Art has a personal magnetism. Julia's face brightened considerably. She looked at Sandy, who nodded. Julia said, "That would be wonderful. Thank you very much."

Art said, "It looks like this side of the island got off easy, but I still need to check the house. How did Chamberlain come through the storm?"

"No damage at all," I said.

"Why don't we take these two to dinner tonight?" Art asked.

"Naked Crustacean?" I asked, that was indisputably the best restaurant on St. George.

"Works for me," Art said.

"Be here at six?" I asked.

"You got it," Art replied. He left.

"What was that about?" Sandy asked.

"Art and I just agreed to take the two of you out to dinner at the finest restaurant on the island," I replied.

"Oh boy," Sandy said, "going out to a restaurant naked. Another first!"

"Art seems nice," Julia said.

"He is a great guy," I replied. "I've known him for several years now. He has that house which you can barely see up the hill there," I said pointing.

Sandy and Julia had lost everything they weren't wearing when their boat had foundered Sunday night/Monday morning. I let them go through some year-old toiletries which Sara had left to see if they could find anything useful. Julia obviously did because, when she came out of the guest room just before Art arrived that evening, she had fixed herself up. She looked very nice, and I said so.

Julia smiled, twirled once, and said, "Do you like my dress?" She was, of course, naked.

"That is the best outfit you could wear," I said. Julia smiled.

Sandy stepped out of the guestroom. "And what about me?" she asked, smiling. All she had done that I could notice was brush her hair, but Sandy didn't need to do anything to look great.

I said, "Your outfit is simply stunning."

Sandy's smile widened. She ran her eyes up and down my bare body. Then, she looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Thank you. You look pretty good too, Harry."

At the restaurant, Julia and Art sat on one side of the table while Sandy and I sat on the other. I'm not the most perceptive of men, but I thought that there was some sort of spark between Julia and Art that night. Regardless, we had a great meal. Art told some interesting stories. I told some boring ones. We had a lot of laughs. It was the most pleasant evening I had spent since Sara had left the island.