Page 15 of Vitamin Sea
“Well,” Lala deadpanned beside her friend. “It looks like Dasha’s forgiven you. It also looks like she has one sick sense of humor.”
Another naked woman walked into the lobby and shot the two of them a friendly smile. Chloe, still in shock, couldn’t muster anything back and she watched the nude woman’s bronzed body waltz out of sight. She had a purse slung over her right shoulder, which seemed absurd. Surely a simple pair of shorts or a sundress with pockets would make more sense than lugging around a purse?Where else would she keep her credit cards?A voice went through Chloe’s head.
She shuddered at the thought and then was hit with another.
Costa Morpho. The name of the resort.
‘Costa’, she knew, was Spanish for ‘coast’. But ‘Morpho’? She hadn’t the faintest idea. The word had initially given her flashbacks to the time she had ended up in the Emergency Department for a migraine so terrible that only morphine would touch it. She didn’t like to read too much into things, but her first thought was that the name was an allusion. As inour resort is so tranquil, you’ll feel like you’re on drugs.Goodness knew she had come across hotels, resorts, restaurants, and experiences more strangely named than that. Now she was wondering if it had something to do with ‘metamorphosis’. As instay for a week and transform from within in nothing but your skin.
The busboy was standing expectantly with their luggage next to the check-in counter and Lala urged Chloe forward
“Go on!” She nudged her friend. “Don’t be rude!”
Chloe, her video still recording, clicked her phone off, stuffed it in her pocket, and headed to the check-in counter.
“Ola!” a dark-skinned woman with short black hair and a toothy smile greeted her.
“Ola.” Chloe gathered her wits and responded with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.
“Welcome to Costa Morpho,” the woman continued. “My name is Carmen and I’m here to help you. Checking in?”
“Yes,” Chloe nodded.
She gave Carmen her information and received two key cards, a map, an itinerary, and a printout that contained an overview of the resort and FAQs.
“Cocktails are served in the lobby at 6 p.m. every evening, and this outlines all of the activities that are available for your stay.” Carmen slid a colourful-looking pamphlet across the desk.
Chloe glanced down and saw that it included a list of rules.
No gawking, she read the first rule on the list. Who knew that nudist resorts—she now had zero doubts as to the type of establishment she and Lala would be staying at for the next week—had specific rules about staring? She supposed it made sense—you wouldn’t want other patrons to feel uncomfortable.
But still.
Had she known that this was where Dasha was sending her, she would have spent the last couple of weeks brushing up on her poker face. Or asked Dasha for a referral and gone to her doctor for a full-face application of Botox.
“Gracias and please enjoy your stay!” Carmen beamed as Chloe and Lala turned to follow the bellboy to their rooms.
Outside the lobby, they were led to a golf cart, which their suitcases were loaded onto before she and Lala climbed in.
They zipped past naked bodies as they bumped along the path towards their room, colloquially known as the Reserve Suite, which was more of a cottage than a simple room.
It was stellar—a beach view, two bedrooms—one on each side of the cottage—with outdoor showers, free-standing tubs, a living room, wet bar, and a dining table. Sandy shades and aquamarine accents, which seemed to be the resort’s signature colours, lent the space a beachy feel. A large plush sectional faced a television, and a breeze ruffled the white cotton curtains through the sliding patio doors.
“Wow,” Lala said from behind her. “This is gorgeous.”
Chloe wheeled her suitcase into the master bedroom on the right side of the room and collapsed happily on the pillowy bed.
“I’m going to put my clothes away,” Lala said from her bedroom on the other side of the cottage.
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” Chloe called back.
Ten minutes later she was lying on top of her duvet, wrapped up in a fluffy housecoat. She picked up the Costa Morpho printout Carmen had given her and started to read. ‘Awe-inspiring views’, the first sentence promised as the myriad of nude guests she’d been subjected to in the last hour flitted through her head.Awe-inspiring indeed, she thought. Maybe not exactly how she would describe it. Ugh-inspiring would maybe more accurate.
Not that she had a problem with nudists. She supported people’s choice to live their life clothing-free. She just didn’t want to see it. She wasn’t a prude or a ‘keep your clothes on at all times’ type of gal, but she thought the whole notion of a clothing-free resort was rather odd.
Further reading informed her that, contrary to her initial thought, ‘morpho’ didn’t refer to morphine—something she wished she had a week-long supply of right now. Nor did it refer, directly at least, to ‘metamorphosis’. It was actually a type of butterfly that was native to Costa Rica.
Fitting, she mused, because she sort of felt, with this trip, like she was finally stepping out of a cocoon.
