Page 7 of My Fearless Fake Fling

Three:

“Turn around!” I yelled at the infuriating man as he stood waist-deep in lake water. Wet hair slicked back, droplets glistened off his olive skin, while he laughed like any of this was funny.

“I’m not turning around. And you’re not a coward, remember? You aren’t boring.”

Well, I’d been trying not to be boring. But if the difference between being boring or not rested on whether I got naked on a beach in front of Mr. Super-Sexy, then maybe it could be good to stay boring.

My clothing he’d left folded and just-pulled-from-the-dryer warm on the closed toilet seat lid for the end of my shower, which had me thinking, this fake boyfriend stuff wasn’t so bad. My real boyfriend never left warm-from-the-dryer, folded clothing for me. Although I’d done it for him plenty of times.

Then we left the apartment.

I begged him—down on my knees, hands clasped with fists full of his red cotton Nike T-shirt—beggedhim to stop off at my apartment to grab my swimsuit.

“No suits in skinny-dipping.” That, and turning in the opposite direction from my home, was his answer.

“What about my car? I need my car. We can’t just leave it at a bar,” I said in protest and a healthy dose of fear.

“Taken care of. I have a friend who’s bringing it back here. It’ll be parked in my spot when we get back.” Grr… he had an answer for everything.

Wait. The thought hit me, “I have the keys. How’s he going to move my car without the keys? Hmm?” I smiled as I threw out that last indignant, hmm.

Yeah, I smiled too soon.

“He owns a flatbed,” Len answered. Oh, I could see the smirk creeping over his lips as he stared straight ahead. The jerkface.

All hope was not lost. We passed a superstore. Superstores sold groceries, housewares, pharmaceuticals… and swimsuits.

“Please. It’ll only take me a minute. I won’t even try it on. Grab it. Buy it. Out.”

“No suits in skinny-dipping.” He repeated his earlier sentiment. Who said no swimsuits? He couldn’t be the absolute authority on skinny-dipping.

It took us another half an hour to drive to the lake he wanted to take me to, one private enough to goau natureland not scar small children for life.

And he’d been right to pick this spot. We had to drive down a path barely wide enough for his truck, a winding path through a dense wooded lot, which opened to a secluded lake with a small beach area. The beach, made up of large, pebbly, sandy soil, lacked the same invitation of its oceanfront counterparts. But the pebbles didn’t seem to slow Lennon down in the least, peeling off the layers until he had nothing left to peel.

The man had no shame or modesty. He dropped trou right at the edge of the lake, showing off hisassets (it’s not a swear if it’s part of the word) to the world, which in the moment consisted of me and the trees, as he waded into the water.

“Please. I’ll take everything off. Just do this one favor for me,” I begged.

“Depends on the favor.”

Because I knew, just knew, I didn’t have it in me to perform a striptease in front of that man, I gave it to him. “Turn around?”

He must have seen the true heart-stopping, vomit-inducing fear on my face, heard that same scared sincerity in my words, because Lennon actually relented.

“Fine. But it all comes off, Kam.”

“I know. It will.”

I watched him turn around and to his credit, not once did he look over his shoulder as I disrobed. First to come off were my tee and jeans. Next, slowly, one at a time in order to push back the inevitable, I toed off each shoe. I chose to hold onto my dignity a bit longer, making my way down the beach still in my bra and panties until I reached the water’s edge. Then with no reason to put it off any longer, I stripped down to my birthday suit as promised. Definitely not the suit I wanted to wear.

Brian’s text, however, came to my mind, giving me the courage to wade into the water.

So there you go, Brian.Along with Lennon’s patience and encouragement, your ridiculous, totally uncalled-for response to my pretend happiness gave me the courage to strip bare and swim.

Cold. I shivered and wrapped my arms over my chest as I waded closer to Len. Being so much taller than me, his waist height equaled out to covering just below my breasts.

“Can I turn back now?” he asked.

---