The Fun & Risks of an All-Over Tan

"You remember me?"

"Yes, though I hardly recognise you from the cute, shy and rather solemn little girl in pigtails you were then!" I nearly add that she's still very cute but stop myself; that would have been awkward, not to mention inappropriate.

"I could say the same about the big, cuddly Mummy next door who used to give me such nice hugs when I fell over and milk and chocolate biscuits. You look stunning, Mrs Jenkins, beautiful..." she says earnestly and now I really am blushing.

"Touchez!" I smile. "Nicola, I mean Nix," I correct myself and she nods in approval, "I think you should call me Susan; I mean, given, er, how we've seen each other."

"Of course Susan," she replies happily. "It's hard to be naked and formal, isn't it?" We enter the house and it's as I remember from my few past visits; the décor is dated and a little tired but the kitchen is neat, though there are a couple of plates and a cup in the sink that Mrs Featherstone would never have tolerated.

"Might I have a glass of water?" I ask. "I was on my way in to get a drink when all this started."

"Oh, of course you can Susan. I can make tea or coffee if you prefer, or perhaps something stronger?" I tell her water is fine and, after a couple of false starts, she finds the cupboard with the glasses in and fills it for me. "Sorry, I still don't know my way around this kitchen. Please, sit down for a minute; you look very hot and stressed." She's right, I am and I sit on one of the chairs beside the small table and she takes the other.

"Er, how long have you been here?" I ask. I had assumed she had arrived this morning but the comment about still not knowing her way around and the items in the sink suggest otherwise.

"Oh, since the weekend; Saturday afternoon to be exact."

"Ah..." I hesitate. "So had you seen me, er, sunbathing?" She smiles and nods.

"Yes," she replies, "but Susan, you really have no need to feel embarrassed: you're gor... I mean you have a lovely body." That's the second time she's complimented my appearance; this girl is certainly good for my ego! I feel a little tingle of pleasure at her admiration and sip the water to cover my uncertainly at what to say in reply. "Would you like me to find you something to wear so you can cover up?" she offers and I hesitate, tempted by her suggestion but, why should I? I vowed to stay naked all day and anyway, she's seen every bit of me now and I've survived my first naked encounter with a stranger.

"No, I'm okay like this, if you really don't mind."

"No, Susan, I really, really do not mind!" she replies grinning. "I never thought I'd be sitting here naked with Katie's lovely Mummy."

"I don't think I expected to here like this with you either!" I smile back. I'm surprised by how comfortable I'm feeling sitting here in the nude, though Nix's body, especially her hairless mound, keeps drawing my eye. "So, when did little Nicola become Nix?" I ask to distract myself.

"Ah, that would have been in Year Nine when I'd just turned fourteen. I felt, like, really miserable and hated life at home and just hated Mum trying to make me dress and behave all sweet and demure and feminine. Ugh! I started wearing black, dyed my hair black, black lipstick and heavy eyeliner..."

"You went Goth?"

"Yeah, basically. Anyway, friends called me Nicki back then but when I read that Nyx was the Greek goddess of the night, well, how could I not want to be called that?" She smiles and I nod.

"So you've kept the name but not the Goth style then," I observe, draining the last of the water and feeling a little calmer and cooler.

"Sure. Being an art student it's good to have you own style and a cool name," she laughs. "Anyway, shall we get back to the task at hand?" she continues in a more business-like manner. "Where would Granny keep your keys?"

"I've no idea: in a drawer, maybe, or on a shelf or in a jar or hung up on a hook... who knows?" I conclude a little hopelessly. We begin our search in the sitting room. There is no sign of them on any of the bookcase shelves or the mantelpiece. The dark oak bureau in the corner of the room looks promising but, after fifteen minutes of searching through the little drawers in the top section and the larger drawers below, sifting through masses of paperwork and documents, we decide they're not there.

"I suppose I ought to go through all of this and see if there's anything important," Nix says heavily. "I ought to be a responsible and adult now I'm a property owner I suppose." I look at her in surprise.

"You own, what, this house?" I ask and she nods.

"Granny left it to me in her will. She and Mum fell out years ago. Just before they married Mum became a Christian, like Dad, and pretty fundamentalist too. I don't know how well you knew her but Granny was an atheist and she had no time for 'all that god mumbo-jumbo' as she put it. I know Granny disapproved of the way they raised me: all bible stories, hell and damnation and women knowing their place; I think that last thing really upset her because she was also a staunch feminist. Anyway, for a few years when I was little, just five the first time, she persuaded Mum and Dad to let me come and stay for a few weeks during the summer, which was when you met me. I loved coming into your garden and playing with Katie and seeing you."

"What happened; why did you stop coming?" I ask.

"I made the mistake of repeating things Granny said; I guess I was starting to share her opinions." She gives a grim smile, "Things like questioning why the Book of Genesis doesn't mention dinosaurs, or how a loving god could allow natural disasters or condemn innocent to hell for not being baptised, or how all humans could come from two people without their children committing incest. I think it was this last question that did it; I was nine at the time and I asked the teacher it in front of everyone at Sunday school!" She smiles and I laugh.

"I'll bet that didn't go down well."

"Absolutely not: Mum and Dad were furious and that was end of my visits here. It was hard not being able to see Katie and you, at least for one last time if only to say goodbye, but not seeing Granny was horrible." I commiserate with her. "As you can probably guess, it didn't help my relationship with Mum and Dad one bit; I've gone on to be an increasing disappointment to them as I've got older."

"Did you get to see your Granny at all as you've grown up?" I ask.

"We kept in contact by phone and she'd come and meet me in parks and cafes and the like until it became too difficult for her. I've visited when I can over the last couple of years but it's been hard with school and parental interference, especially since, um..." she hesitates, leaving whatever it was unsaid. "Thankfully, I did get to see her before she died and I was there with her in hospital at the end." There is deep sadness in her voice and I reach out and rub her shoulder.

"Janet was always such a spirited woman and it sounds like she obviously loved you," I tell her and Nix nods. I can see tears welling in her eyes and she turns a little, a subtle movement towards me as if seeking shelter from the pain of loss. Instinctively I pull her into a hug to comfort her. She immediately relaxes into my embrace, her cheek resting just below my shoulder as her arms wrap around me. I may have been thinking of the little girl with the grazed knee that I'd hugged all those years ago but in my arms now is a woman, and a semi-naked one at that; I clearly hadn't considered our states of undress and semi-dress when I started this!

There follows a very conflicted moment for me: I am acutely aware of our naked skin in contact, the flesh of her boobs and tummy and thighs are pressed against mine, a sensation at once very pleasant but also, given that Nix is the same age as my daughter, highly uncomfortable; I'm giving her a hug for comfort and consolation as I had in the past but this doesn't feel like I'm being a surrogate mother to her now; in truth she is virtually a stranger and yet here we are, like this ... Part of me wants to pull away but I rationalize that this would be unkind and would upset Nix. The reality is that I am enjoying the feeling of closeness too much.

"I'm, er, sorry," I say as she gently pulls away, "you looked like you needed a hug. I didn't mean to make you feel awkward..."

"Susan, you didn't. That was a very kind thing to do and possibly the nicest hug I've had in a very long time."

"For me too," I admit and then feel guilty for saying that; Nix doesn't need to know my marital problems. She doesn't say anything, but there is a look of interest on her face. "Well, it doesn't look like there are any keys in here," I say, changing the subject.

"No. Let's try the dining room." There is a large Welsh dresser in the dining room with various plates and dishes on the shelves but there are no keys on the shelves nor in a yellow china butter dish, with 'Guernsey' written on the side and a model cow on the lid as a handle, and that is full of odd buttons, washers, fuses, a thimble and an unopened hearing-aid battery. I check the two drawers but without success, as Nix crouches down to search the cupboards underneath. While she is still rummaging I notice a pad of paper on the dining table.

It is laying face-down and out of sheer curiosity I turn it over; it's an artist's sketch pad. Nix mentioned being an art student so my interest is heightened further. I flick through the pages and there are various drawings and sketches, mainly objects or scenes but a few of people and one or two dogs. I turn another page and my heart stops. There is a familiar-looking woman seen from above, naked, and laying on a narrow bed. Over the page is another nude; I suspect it's the same woman but her face is hidden by the book she's holding as if she's reading. The third is of the woman lying on her front with her bum towards the artist. The viewpoint is always high above and the angle the same in each drawing and, while the details are a little vague, I am certain that these drawings are of me on the sun lounger. I turn to the next page and gasp "Oh fuck!" in shock. It is me again but not lying demurely this time. The most shocking thing is the way my head is tilted back, with my eyes closed and mouth slightly open, while my hand rests between my legs. This pose is not to preserve my modesty, just the opposite: this was sketched this morning and I am in the throes of my orgasm!

"Oh shit, Susan, I'm sorry," Nix has come up behind me and her hand tentatively touches my shoulder. I shake it off but I'm too stunned to move away. My eyes are transfixed by the image in front of me. Actually, the sketch is very good, drawn with skill and an elegance of line and... well, if I hadn't been the subject I might have appreciated the eroticism of the drawing. Oh my god; is that how Nix sees me?

"Why?" I whisper, "Why draw me like that? Why draw me naked at all?" My voice is plaintive.

"I could say that you gave me a chance to practise my life drawing," she says carefully.

"You could say?" I ask, crossly, as I turn to face her, "Meaning that's not the truth?"

"Well, maybe it's not the whole truth. You are very lovely, Susan." She hesitates and I can see she is nervous and uncomfortable. I have an inexplicable urge to put my arms around her to comfort her, to feel her close, but I remind myself that I am upset about the fact that she drew me naked and, worse, watched me masturbate. That she finds me attractive is flattering... No! I'm definitely upset with this cute and pretty... Stop it! I tell myself to get a grip.

"What is it?" I ask, albeit less sternly, given the discomfort she is showing.

"Okay..." she takes a deep breath. "If I told you that about three years ago Dad said that something he'd heard I'd done made me an 'abomination', would that mean anything?"

"Beyond that he obviously didn't like it, no, not really. What had you done? It must have been something pretty appalling."

"I... I kissed a girl." I stare at her for a moment. "I mean like properly-tongues-and-all kissed her," she adds. "It was after an end of year school barbecue and dance and, unfortunately, Mum saw Lucy and me snogging." Nix looks terrified as she stands awaiting my response.

"Are you telling me that you're, what, a lesbian?" She nods. "Nix, that's not abominable, it's just the way you are."

"So, you don't have a problem that I'm gay?" she asks in a voice comprising equal parts surprise and relief.

"No, why would I? I have to admit that I wondered for a while about Helena, my eldest, whether she might be gay. In the sixth form and when she first went to university all she seemed to have were female friends. She has a boyfriend now though."

"Perhaps she's bisexual," Nix suggests. I suspect she may be testing my response but it's a fair point and I just shrug.

"Maybe. My only concern is that, if one of the girls is gay, they can find someone to love them as they are and that they don't suffer the prejudiced attitudes that you've obviously encountered," I tell her honestly. "Nix, what has this got to do with you drawing... me... oh..." The things she's said suddenly take on a subtly different meaning. "Um... Attractive? Me, really?"

"Sorry, I don't mean to freak you out Susan. I can't help it. I've always had the fondest of memories of you but when I saw you in your bikini on Monday I was amazed: the cuddly Mummy I remembered had become like a total MILF!"

"MILF?" I had encountered the term but never knew what it meant.

"Er, Mum I'd Like to Fuck," she answers and at least has the decency to blush, albeit cutely. "Of course when I looked out later you were completely starkers and, well... Susan you are stunning and I just had to sketch you." It is actually me that is stunned: this girl, this woman, this cute and very pretty young woman, has basically just said she wants to fuck me!

"I don't know if asking this is wise but, when you saw me this morning, what did you... I mean, didn't you find it a bit... wrong, me doing that in the garden?"

"Susan, it was fucking awesome! Sorry for swearing but it was! It turned me on -- a lot!" she admits shyly. This conversation was becoming surreal; not only was what she was saying incredible, there were also the emotions she was triggering in me. I found my eyes wandering and fought to focus on her face, which simply left the sudden urge to kiss her to deal with.

I had wished for someone to find me attractive and here she was. "Be careful what you wish for," I mutter to myself. Her hand reaches up to cup my cheek, her thumb caressing gently and a look of adoration in her eyes.

"You have no idea the things I've been wishing for over the last couple of days," she says quietly, "or how many wishes have already come true this morning... and you're still here." I am so nervous right now but I'm not sure whether it's fear of something happening between us or fear that it doesn't; perhaps it is both. "Can I do something to you that might or might not be thought abominable?" she asks. I know at once what she means and the thought of it makes me unexpectedly and inexplicably shiver in anticipation.

"I... I don't think I'd think it would be abominable," I manage to croak and she leans in, raising her lips to mine. I try to tell myself, as she begins to get close, that it is just going to be another kiss, maybe a bit more risqué that those in the past because we're both women but that I'll be able to think afterwards, 'Well, that was okay but not as good as kissing Vince.' Oh, how wrong I am...

Her lips are soft and warm and feel lovely against mine. I wait for her to pull away, not wanting to be the one to end it too soon, but she doesn't. I feel her mouth open slightly and there is a little thrill inside me. Her tongue caresses my top lip and instinctively my mouth open a little too. I suppose I would have been disappointed if I hadn't felt her tongue slip softly between my lips because it feels wonderful when it does. Tentatively I brush her tongue with mine and relax my jaw, widening my mouth and inviting her to kiss me more deeply. Slowly and tenderly she does and she enters me. That's how it feels: it is loving and gentle but I am allowing a woman to enter part of my body. When her tongue withdraws I hesitate before nervously and briefly dipping my tongue into her mouth.

The kiss ends, though I have no idea how long it lasted. My legs feel weak and I drop back to perch my bum on the edge of the dining table for support. "That wasn't supposed to be like that."

"I'm sorry you didn't like it," she says sadly.

"Nix, not liking it wasn't the problem," I tell her. "I fully expected not to like it or perhaps to think it was okay but nothing special but... oh god it I was wonderful. I liked it, Nix; I liked it far too much." Her smile is huge and she moves towards me again but I hold up my hand. "Nix, I can't really deal with all this right now; I'm still locked out of my house, remember."

"You're right, I'm sorry," she backs off. "I guess we'll have to look upstairs, in the bedroom." The gleam in her eye is rather worrying but we've exhausted the rooms down here. We head out into the hall and I see the little table that has an old-fashioned beige telephone sitting on it that I'd noticed previously. It also has a single small drawer underneath.

"What about in there?" I suggest, pointing at the table. Nix reacts as if noticing the table for the first time, which perhaps she is.

"Let's have a look." We walk side by side, our arms brushing together. I still feel that strange excitement as when we kissed and I know that, if I let it, something could happen between us. Do I want it to? No, now is not the time to think about this; I must concentrate on getting back in the house.

I pull open the drawer and there is a small blue-covered book with 'Telephone Numbers' printed in gold on the front, the peculiar gas-meter box key, a thin, pen-sized torch, a short screwdriver and, right at the back, a keyring with a Lego mini-figure of Harry Potter that I recognise as once belonging to Helena. Sure enough there are two keys attached: a Yale lock key and a Chubb deadlock key. "Yes!" I exclaim.

"Are they them?" Nix asks and I nod.

"These are the two front door keys," I tell her. "The only problem now is getting into the house in my present state."

"I'm sure there's something upstairs you could wear; it might not be fashionable but it would cover you up... What's wrong with that?" she asks as she sees the expression on my face.

"Oh, I'm being silly," I tell her a little uncomfortably.

"Well?"

"Okay... I, er, well you know that today's the longest day of the year? Well I sort of promised myself that I'd spend the whole day naked... stop giggling!"

"What do you expect me to do when you tell me that?" she grins. "We could do it though, couldn't we? I mean, there's no one around in the middle of the day."

"They may not be on the street but they could be looking out of their windows!" I protest, "and... we?"

"Well, I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't support you, would I?" she says kindly, "Plus doing it would be like a mega-turn-on!"

"Or terminally embarrassing if we get caught," I laugh. "Oh, sod it, let's do it!"

"Yes!" she exclaims excitedly and shrugs her shirt off. I expected, having seen her virtually naked -- her open shirt doing almost nothing to cover her up -- that seeing Nix completely nude would make little difference. This turns out to be yet another thing I'm totally wrong about: stripped bare she is utterly and erotically gorgeous. I notice that the delicate tattoo of the vine with its leaves and flowers isn't just across her tummy but encircles her waist completely, like an intricate body chain. It looks wonderful on her. I want to touch her, to run my fingers around that girdling tattoo, to hold and caress her beautiful body.