Chapter 1. On the beach

Saturday 10th May 2003

Part 1

“You need to be careful you don’t burn.”

I must have dozed off for a few moments, lulled asleep by the scorching May sun on the white sand, the gentle breeze wafting through the dune grass and the swish of waves breaking on the shoreline. I’d been fantasising about meeting someone, falling in love, getting married and making love. The last two not necessarily in that order.

I opened my eyes. I’d thought the little secluded depression I’d found would hide me from prying eyes, but I’d been mistaken. A guy was squatting a couple of feet from where I lay. He looked to be mid or late-twenties, certainly a little older than my own twenty years. His well-defined body was tanned and his hair was sun-bleached. I assumed he was a local and worked outdoors most of the time. Perhaps on a building site or on a farm? It wasn’t easy to tell with him squatting on his heels but he seemed about five foot ten tall. He had an air of confidence about him and, if I’d still been fantasising, he would have scored an eight or even a nine.

What was I thinking? This wasn’t a fantasy and I could be in trouble.

“The sun can be very deceptive here — it reflects off the sand as well as directly from the sky. Even half an hour can be enough to burn you if you don’t take precautions,” he continued.

I rose up on my elbows, forgetting I’d undone my bikini top’s strap. His gaze dropped to the bikini top now dangling away from my flat chest — the fillers I used resting in the cups. A knowing smile appeared on his lips. Hoping he hadn’t noticed too much, I dropped back down and reached behind me to refasten the strap. My shape, and a modicum of modesty restored, I, again, lifted myself onto my elbows.

“It’s a nice secluded spot you’ve got here. I often use it myself. My name is Roger, I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Well, I had hoped for some privacy. I’m Vicky.”

“OK Vicky, I’ll leave you alone if you like — but it would be remiss of me to let you burn your back. As there is no one else around, I’d better offer to do it for you. Have you got sun cream?”

I hadn’t brought any with me. There had been too many other things on my mind that morning.

“No matter, I’ve got some here.”

Roger pre-empted any chance of me declining his offer. He poured lotion on my back and I felt his hand gently spreading it. His hands had none of the roughness I’d expect from someone involved in manual work and the words he used implied education beyond the bare minimum. I reconsidered what he did. He unfastened the back of my bikini top again and slid the straps down my arm while he massaged the cream into my shoulders. His touch sent a shiver down my spine. I wondered if he’d try to take advantage. How would I react if he did? But he then refastened the strap and sat back on his haunches.

“Here,” he said, passing me the sun cream, “I’m sure you’d prefer to do your front yourself.”

“I’ll do it later,” I said.

“Well, that’s a problem. You haven’t any sun cream, I’ll need mine and you want me to leave you to some privacy.”

I was trapped. I’d stayed lying on my front to hide the bulge in my bikini bottoms. If I sat up, he would see it. But I couldn’t stay as I was.

“Your secret is safe with me, you know. I saw you earlier as you took the path into the dunes and I noticed the outline of your bikini top through your t-shirt when you took your jacket off. You look fabulous by the way.”

As I often did during outings as Vicky, I’d planned to use the toilets on the train from Waterloo to Bournemouth to change out of my jeans and t-shirt into a skirt and more feminine top and put on my wig and some make-up. But the train had been busy with people standing in the corridors and near the loos. I’d used the gents’ at Bournemouth station to put my bikini on underneath my trousers and t-shirt. I’d zipped up my jacket to hide the outline — but it seems I’d taken it off too soon.

I looked at Roger. He’d realised I was a transvestite but didn’t seem to be threatening. Far from it. I’d been much more vulnerable while he applied the sun cream. He could, equally, have assaulted me while I dozed.

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I should have just told him I was going and put on my t-shirt. But I didn’t.

I sat up and reached for the bottle and thanked him. He watched me with an amused smile as I applied the lotion, then handed the bottle back to him.

“Do you smoke?” he asked, offering me his packet. I took one gratefully to calm my nerves.

“So, Vicky, do you still want me to leave you on your own — or would you like some company? You know, it might be useful if I stayed. Anyone else coming along is more likely to sneak up on a single girl than on a couple.”

That made sense, so I agreed he could stay. He spread his towel out next to me, stripped to his swimming trunks and lay down. My earlier assessment of a well-defined body was confirmed; not overly muscular but lean. I tried not to glance at the bulge in his trunks but couldn’t help myself.

“Are you here on holiday?” Roger asked, the smoke from his cigarette drifting lazily upwards.

“Just visiting for the day. I can’t afford to stop. I’d love to if I could. Do you live locally?”

“Yes, I’ve lived in Bournemouth most of my life.”

We continued to chat – Roger was very easy to talk to and related amusing stories about goings on in the dunes. I didn’t take long to relax in his company. I was glad he’d stayed. ‘Definitely a nine,’ I pondered.

“I’m hot,” he blurted, breaking my train of thought. “Fancy a swim?” he asked. He stood up and held out his hand for me to take to help me up. He continued to hold my hand as we ran into the sea. I don’t think I’d have been able to break his grip if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t want to.

The water was fabulously refreshing as we swan towards a small raft moored off the beach. I held onto the side of the raft catching my breath as Roger came behind me, I turned to face him. He put one hand on each of my hips and lifted me up onto the platform where he soon joined me.

We lay down side by side and Roger took my hand again. When I didn’t pull away, he leant over me, his face a few inches from mine. He looked into my eyes and paused, his own blue eyes sparkling. Was he giving me the chance to turn my head away if I wanted? Perhaps, but I didn’t. Not seeing any signs of resistance he kissed my lips. I responded and slipped my arms around his neck. His hands slid under my bikini top and his fingers tweaked my nipples. I’d never experienced such ecstasy and didn’t want it to stop.

The thought shocked me. I’d never considered myself as gay. I hadn’t particularly fancied any girls I’d known — but nor had I fancied any of the guys either when going out as male. But being Vicky made a huge difference. She had taken me over. I wasn’t playing a part, I was Vicky.

“There are some other people coming,” Roger told me. “Come on, I’ll race you back to the beach.” He did a graceful dive into the water.

I didn’t stand a chance. My legs were weak from the kissing and cuddling. As I got out of the water, Roger slipped his arm around my waist.

“What time is your last train tonight?”

“I’m not sure, I’d planned to catch one about seven – but there are later ones. Why”

“Because I enjoy your company and I’d love to take you out for dinner. I know a fabulous Italian restaurant”

“But I have nothing with me suitable for a restaurant.”

“That’s not a problem – we can go shopping now. It’s only 3 o’clock. I’ll treat you.”

Well, how could I refuse?

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