I have to admit, the first pair were a bit intriguing. They were droopy, grapefruit-sized, salmon-colored orbs that hung listlessly over the lady’s soft tires. I tried not to stare, but then made up reasons to turn my head and catch a glimpse. She was just reading, sitting under the beach umbrella with her girl friend, thinking nothing, I’m sure, of baring it almost all. Did she even remember that she was topless? I let myself stare for 5-10 seconds – my god, how big! – but then remembered that when in Spain, I should be doing as Spaniards do: take it completely in stride.
So, I tried to focus on Anjali, Maya and Aanika, who were splashing at the water’s edge, still trying to get used to the mild chill of the Mediterranean.
But as they settled into the water with Srini, I figured I should settle onto the beach towel with a book. As soon as I had plopped onto my stomach, though, what do I see: another pair. This time, it was a small, shapely set. In fact, two shapely pairs – a man’s and a woman’s. Two beautiful specimens, lying next to each other, fingers gently entwined into each other’s, both in a solei coma, both clad only in the barest of bikini bottoms. They were asleep, so I could watch at leisure. I watched and waited, part of me expecting the action to develop – but there they lay, no more interested in going beyond finger play than the children making sand castles near the water.
Trying once again to stop behaving like a tourist, I picked up my Harry Potter and tried to read. The quidditch match was getting intense. It was us against the Slytherines with their fancy new broom sticks, and Harry was getting chased by the bludger, and I should have been paying attention. But the scenery prevailed.
Out of the water was rising a glistening mermaid with surf-slicked, golden hair, textbook curves–all clad in a standard tan bikini. She was stunning and sensual, a lot more so than the semi-nudes littering the beach.
It made me wonder: is it the hide-and-seek that clothes enable that lends sensuality to our forms? Is it their engineering? The strings, slight as they may be, pull and nudge things into prescribed forms. The right angle to the fabric’s cut can pull attention away from unfortunate parts and onto promising ones. Some enhancements even verge on out-and-out lying.
And in fact, it was the liars who turned out to be the most intriguing. The bare ones had chosen to hide nothing, enhance nothing, even if you wish they had. The naked grandma with her Michelin man figure, the middle-aged woman, who, in many countries, would have been home researching cellulite reduction: it all lent an air of…como se dice…almost an innocence to the bare ones. I know now I’ve lost most of you. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I might be more scandalized next time I go to Santa Cruz.