It began innocently enough.  This was my first year at college and I was determined to do all the stuff that college kids do.  Isn’t college about experimentation and finding yourself?  And isn’t a girl entitled to have some fun? 

I hadn’t dated much in high school.  I’ve always been shy, and I knew I needed to spread my wings.  So I decided to go to Florida for Spring break.  The roommate the school had assigned to share my apartment (my parents signed the lease) wasn’t available to accompany me.  She had already had left for home and, anyway, she and I were not very compatible.  (I just haven’t had the nerve to ask her to move out.)  None of my girlfriends could go because of family obligations or money issues.  So I placed a notice on the bulletin board at the student lounge.

“Traveling to Ft. Lauderdale for Spring break.  Looking for a companion to share expenses/good times.  Julie.”  With my email address.

I got a response.  It read “Hey, let’s meet up.  I want to do the same thing and was hoping to split a room with someone.  Leslie.” 

My college is big and I didn’t know her.  So I emailed back that we should meet that afternoon.  I was hoping she was nice, as the deadline to make motel reservations was fast approaching. 

We arranged to meet at the Starbucks in the student center.  I told her to text me when she got there.  My phone buzzed.   “I’m here, sitting in the last row.  Blue jacket.” 

I walked to the back and couldn’t see her.  Just some guy.  Who waved to me.

“Hi, I’m Leslie.  You must be Julie.”

“Oh.  I assumed Leslie was a girl’s name,”  I said, a little shocked.

“Yeah, I get some confusion with that sometimes.  But I’ve been a guy for a long time.  Sit down.”  He smiled.  A lovely smile.

I sat and we talked.  A friendly talk, first a little about ourselves and then about how wonderful Florida would be this time of year.  But then I cut to the chase:

 ‘Look, you seem very nice but I’m not comfortable sharing a room with a guy.  I’m sort of a shy person.  I’m sorry for the confusion, but this isn’t going to work out.”

“I understand your reluctance completely,” he said.  “But I have two sisters.  I’m at ease around women, and I’m fine if we set ground rules.  We can be roommates just splitting expenses, without any of the boy-girl issues.  Your unease is all about sex, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s hard to share a room, sleeping, getting dressed and everything, without pretty intimate views of the other person.  I’ve never done something like that with a guy.” 

“Well,” he said, “I know I can keep boundaries that you’re comfortable with.  Tell you what.  Let’s give it a trial run.  You said your roommate has already gone home.  How about I come over later, we can be roommates for a day.  We’ll dress, take showers, sleep, do all normal stuff and respect each other’s privacy.  So you’ll know if we can do this for a week.”

“Er, no.  That’s weird.  I can’t invite a stranger into my apartment.”

“I’m only a stranger until you get to know me.  We’ve already talked for 20 minutes.  I promise I’m not a serial killer.  What’s the big deal?  If you’re not comfortable after we spend a day together, we’ll go our separate ways.”

I sat there without saying a word.  The coffee was getting cold.  I had to make a decision.  He was cute, although not necessarily someone that I would have picked to move in with.  But I did want to go to Florida and my options were running out.

“OK.  We’ll try it.  But if at any time I am uncomfortable, you have to leave immediately.”

“Of course.”

I gave him my address and he said he’d come over around 4 pm.

Les was there promptly with an overnight bag.  (I call him Les; Leslie is a strange name for a boy, if you ask me.) 

He made himself at home right away.  Too right away, for my taste.  He put his toothbrush and shaving kit in the bathroom and took over a drawer of my dresser for his clothes.  He sat down and turned on the TV to a football game.  I never watch football.  He was perfectly at ease in my apartment.  He was like an occupying army. 

“What’s for dinner?” he inquired.

“Whatever you’re cooking,” I said.  I was a little annoyed. 

To my surprise, he actually cooked.  He made a spinach quiche from ingredients in my refrigerator, which was quite good.

He used the bathroom and I could hear him peeing into the toilet.  Yikes.  Is this how it would be?  Would he be listening to me in the bathroom?

When it was bedtime, I took a shower as usual.  I was very conscious that he was lurking outside.  The door was locked, but I felt like he could burst in on my naked body at any time.  Of course, that didn’t happen.  I came out of the bathroom in a robe, and he went in.  I put on my pajamas and waited in my bed.  He came out wearing just a towel, bare chested.  Nice chest.  He went to my roommate’s bed, which is next to mine in the same room. 

“I sleep in the nude.  I hope you don’t mind.” 

Without waiting for a reply, he took off the towel and slipped into bed. 

I got a glimpse of his manhood as he did so.  I didn’t reply.  I felt like I was exposed just  sleeping in the bed next to him.  I was strangely excited knowing that he was naked next to me -- albeit in another bed, covered with a sheet.  I squeezed my legs tightly together, putting pressure on my groin.  I thought about doing something to relieve the sexual tension, but I was terrified he might hear me.  But he never even turned in my direction and he was soon asleep.  I awoke the next morning to him cooking omelets.  Mercifully, he was wearing boxer shorts. 

“You’re quite the housewife, aren’t you?” I said, thinking this was very clever.

“I like to cook.  Particularly for someone as nice as you.”

That was sweet.  We were getting used to each other.  I changed from my pajamas while he worked in the kitchen.  I don’t know if he looked at me, but he easily could have with the open format of the apartment.  I usually eat breakfast in my bra and panties, and decided that I’d do it now.  It’s really not that different from being in a bathing suit, which he’d see me in if we went to Florida.  And why should I alter my routine because of him?  Weren’t we supposed to be sure that we could keep boundaries?  But in truth, I was excited by the male presence in my apartment. 

He looked over at me.  “You’ve got a great body.”

“Is that what you say to your sisters?” I asked him.

“Actually, we’re pretty open about our bodies in our house.  They often walk around in underwear, like you’re doing.  And they tease me about my skinny legs.”

We ate, and chatted pleasantly.  But I was trembling inside.  No, I decided, being with a boy in bra and panties is not the same as being in a bathing suit. 

The rest of the morning was fine.  I finished dressing in the bathroom, and he changed into street clothes.  He packed his bag to leave.

“Well, do you think we can manage a week together in Ft. Lauderdale?” he asked.

I had to admit it went well.  “Sure.  Let’s do it.”

So it was that we packed into his car for the long drive to Florida.  We stopped overnight at a small motel in North Carolina.  The motel only had rooms with king size beds.  We took it as we were tired.

“Are you okay with us sharing the same bed?” he asked.

“Sure.  You’ll stay on your side, and I on mine.”

I averted my eyes (for the most part) when he walked naked to get into bed.  He fell asleep first.  I was wide awake, listening to his breathing, and the scent of maleness that he emanated.  I guess it was pheromones, but I was drawn to his body.  He was sleeping on his side, and I spooned him, pressing tightly against the curve of his back, his bare buttocks, and his warmth.  He didn’t awaken.  I suppressed my own excitement.  I fell asleep pressed against him.

I awoke when he stirred.  He realized that I had been lying next to him.

“Were you taking advantage of me while I was sleeping?” he asked, coyly.

I had to smile.  “Well, maybe I was cold and needed to warm myself.”

:There’s nothing worse than being cold,” he said.  And moved toward me. 

I quickly got out of bed.  I wasn’t ready to commit to a sexual relationship.  But I teased him.  With my back to him, I took off my pajama top to put on my bra.  He could view my bare back, and maybe a slight side view of my breasts.  Then I stripped off my pajama bottoms, and he saw my bare backside while I put on my panties.

I know he appreciated the view, as he gave a small wolf whistle.  I liked that he liked it.

We continued down the road, making it to Ft. Lauderdale by driving into the night.  We arrived at the motel.  Again, it just had one king size bed.  He took a shower first.  I imagined him stripping off his clothes and soaping his body in the shower.  I had a fantasy that I joined him.  But for now that was just a fantasy.  He came out of the steam filled bathroom wearing just a towel around his waist. 

‘Your turn.”

I went into the bathroom and the warmth and moisture in the air from his shower enveloped me.  I sort of felt as when I had snuggled next to the warmth of his sleeping body.  His presence filled the room.  I was okay with that.  After my shower, I came out of the bathroom in my pajamas. 

He was already in bed; I climbed in too.  He looked at me expectantly and asked if I were going to spoon sleep with him again.  This was the moment of truth.  Either I was going to keep our arrangement of separation, or this was going to devolve into a week of wild sex.  Did I mention that I needed to spread my wings?

I grabbed his neck and pulled him toward me.  He pressed his groin against mine, and I felt the stirring of his penis.  I ran my hands over his bare chest, dropping down to his stomach and abdomen.  He moaned appreciatively.  He began to massage my breasts, then the thighs, caressing them, edging closer to my pelvic area.  I surrendered to him, rolling over on my back so he had uninhibited access to my womanhood.  His hand rubbed the vulva and fingers entered into the vagina.  He rubbed against the clitoris and found the G spot within.  It was very nice indeed.

I was in heaven.  But I felt indulgent and selfish just lying there, so I grabbed his penis and stroked it from the testicles up the shaft.  I cupped the testicles and manipulated them.  He liked that a lot. 

I mounted him while he lay on his back and guided him into me.  I rocked back and forth, taking control of the love making.  He didn’t last too long, and ejaculated spasmodically into my body.  I didn’t have an orgasm, but that was okay.  It was a nice intimate moment.

And yes, I spoon slept with him again.  The musk odor of his naked body was an aphrodisiac. 

The next day, we hit the beach.  There were a lot of other college aged kids there and we made friends with a few.  All the girls were in skimpy bikinis that barely covered their buttocks or their breasts.  It made my conservative two-piece look like something my grandmother would wear.  Les made the observation out loud.

“I think you need to shop for a new bathing suit.”

“Well,” I said, “I have to watch my money.  What I’m wearing is fine.”

“This will be my treat.  A souvenir of your first trip to Ft. Lauderdale.”

What girl doesn’t like a present?  So we went shopping along the commercial street adjacent to the beach.  There were a lot of shops selling bathing suits.

We went in one.  There were a number of customers already viewing the merchandise.  He and I together picked out three attractive bikinis. 

“I’ll be right back.  I’ll try them on.”  There were two individual stalls for trying on garments, next to each other.  The curtain on one was already closed, indicating someone was in there.  The other was open. 

“I’m sure you’ll want a second opinion.  I’ll come with you.”

I was shocked.  That was pretty forward of him.  I know we slept together the night before, but in truth I barely knew him.  Going into the women’s dressing room when there were other customers around was brazen.  After all, there is just a curtain shielding the compartment from the store, and zero sound barrier.  Anyone in the adjacent stall would have to hear us.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Not at all,” he said.  “I’ll be quiet.  No one will know.  It will be fun.”

I was flush with excitement.  That would be pretty daring.

We waited until no one was looking in our direction, and we both entered the dressing compartment.  It’s not very big.  I was starting to regret this.  I could feel him breathing on me, there was so little room.  He pressed against the mirror to make some space for me.  I took off the top of my bathing suit and Les handed me the top of the first bikini.  He helped fasten it in the back.  With my back to him, I slipped off the two-piece bottom and pulled on the bikini bottom.  I turned around.

“You look great” he whispered.  And I felt very sexy.  The fabric was smaller than even my sexy lingerie panties.  I had to stretch it a little to cover some pubic hair that stuck out.  I thought that I’d have to do some trimming if I wanted to wear these microscopic bottoms.

I took off the first bikini and stood there naked, inches from Les.  I felt enormously exposed.  This was different from sex in a bed.  I was naked with a guy in a public store, with a thin curtain protecting my privacy.

He handed me the second bikini, and as I took it, the top piece fell to the ground. 

“I’ll get it” Les said aloud.  Not in the whisper.

I could hear the woman in the other compartment stop moving. She surely heard. 

“Shhh,” I cautioned him. 

I put on the second bikini.  Les gave me a smile and a big thumbs up.  No talking.

I stripped off that bikini and was about to put on the third one when a voice spoke from outside the curtain.

“Are you all right in there, Miss?” 

It was the store manager.  That damn woman next to us must have said something.

“Yes, I’m fine.  Be out soon,” I said, trying to sound calm and mature at the same time, or at least as calm as one could be standing there stark naked with only a hanging piece of curtain for protection.

Les began to laugh quietly, seeing my discomfort.  I made a fist and waved it in his face, threatening him into silence.

I barely looked at the third bikini; my mind was racing as to what might befall us when we left the dressing room.  A policeman?  Horrified onlookers?  Angry store manager?

“Let’s go,” I said to Les.  “I’ll leave first; you wait and follow 10 seconds later.”

I’m not sure what I thought this was going to accomplish, if we were busted.  But it sounded reasonable.

I pulled the curtain aside and exited, keeping the curtain drawn across the entrance.  Happily no one was there.  My nerves subsided and a rush of excitement replaced it.  Wow.  Did we really just do this? 

Les bought the second bikini for me and we left.  When we made it to the street, we both started laughing.  He hugged me and kissed the top of my head.

“Well, it’s not the same as Bonnie and Clyde, but we had an adventure,” he said.

There were more to come.

We sunbathed on the beach for a few hours, dipping into the water occasionally.  I was very cautious in the water; that skimpy bikini rested so precariously on my body that I was certain the next wave would strip it off, leaving me naked in the water.  Which is exactly what Les had in mind. 

“Let’s swim out a little,” he suggested. 

We swam out to where the ocean bottom was about 5 feet deep.  We could stand, but the water covered most of our bodies.  Les moved near me, placed his hands on my buttocks and drew me close to him.  He hooked his thumbs into the bikini bottom and started to pull it down. 

“What are you doing?  This is a public beach!”

“No one can see us.”

“Yes they can!  You’re insane.  Let me go,” and I scooched down in the water and pulled the bottoms up.

He just smiled at me and laughed.  He enjoyed my embarrassment.  And he knew that despite my protestations, it excited me. 

Once we were back on the beach, I kept my distance from him.  He was a little too unpredictable in public places. 

We had made friends with some guys and gals on a nearby blanket.  They invited us to a party at the private house of one of the guys, who was a local.  We were told to wear our bathing suits under clothes, as the house had a pool.

There probably were about 30 or more people at the party.  Lots of drinking, loud music, and general rowdiness.  In other words, a normal Spring break party.  The pool was the focal point of the party, and people jumped in and out all night.  Like I said, a lot of drinking took place and I had my share.  Around midnight, the owner announced that we should all meet at the side of the pool, for a special treat.  The treat, if you can call it that, was that he would hold a wet t-shirt contest for the women, with a case of beer as the prize for the winner. 

He handed each of us ladies a thin t-shirt to wear, and we were to remove our bikini tops and stand in a line.  He would pour water over us.  The guys, of course, who were the judges, would pick the winner.  I guess we were to do a little dance or something.  The sexiest girl would prevail. 

Les looked at me closely.  I had told him how shy I was.  Despite the shenanigans we’d been through, this was a step beyond.  The curtain on that dressing room, so to speak, was being torn away, and I would be exposed. 

“Sounds like another adventure,” I said.

“Are you sure,” he asked?

“Don’t you think I can win?”

He smiled, seeing that I was in fact okay with this. 

“Sure, I’m rooting for you.”

Not all the women joined in, but I did.  We lined up, music played, and the host had pitchers of water ready.  We came to the front, and were drenched.  The water quickly made the t-shirt cling tightly to our bodies.  The chill of the water caused the nipples to spring out.  I felt a strange pride as my firm breasts protruded conspicuously to audible appreciation from the guys. I wasn’t naked, but it wasn’t far behind.

I didn’t win, of course.  Some of the other girls were much more spirited than I was, shaking their bodies, giving the boys a peek by lifting the fabric. 

But I was thrilled with myself for having had the guts to participate.   

We returned to the motel, and Les and I tore into each other.  We made love the whole night, and again in the morning.  I hardly remember if we went again to the beach – I’m sure we must have.  But we were together and that was all that mattered. 

When I got back home, I told my roommate to find other accommodations for the next semester.  I’m not the shy type –not anymore.  And I told my parents I have a new roommate, someone named Leslie.  Someday I’m sure they will meet ‘her.’

(c)  copyright Calem Geyser, 2020