Read Online The Bikini Diaries by Lacey Alexander, cey Alexander - Free Book Online
Authors: Lacey Alexander, cey Alexander
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slim the risk is, some people here know you now. And tomorrow she was supposed to meet with Mr. Worth and Mr. Penny, Emerald Shores' CEOs. She imagined stepping into some lavish office and facing two
dignified old men who would announce to her that their employees had seen her having
sex on the beach—and not just the drink—and that they felt obliged to report this
behavior to her boss. She had no idea if being seen doing something like that would
automatically result in such a report, but she certainly didn't want to find out. And
couldn't afford to, either—-it was her job, her job where she appeared to be climbing the corporate ladder, her job that she loved. She couldn't risk messing that up.
But if she couldn't risk messing that up, why was she walking over toward the cute little Beach Bazaar shopping bag still sitting on a chair in her room and plucking out the two
pieces of the swimsuit?
Why was she holding them up, remembering the way they'd molded to her body?
Why was she dying to put it on?
Simple. Because Brandon's words still rang in her ears. I want to do it again. I want to do everything to you again. And more.
Despite herself, she couldn't help thinking: more7 What more could there be?
And how could she bear not finding out? After all, this was her one time away from home
by herself. This was the one time she'd already started something brazen and hedonistic
with a man, so maybe continuing it to see where it led only made sense.
If you can block out the "what if someone with the resort sees me?" part.
And realistically, she decided, she could.
Because this place was huge, with literally thousands of occupants.
Because the people who worked here were working now, not hanging at the beach or poolside during business hours.
This was a playground. It only made sense to play. And no one from the corporate offices would see her. It was nearly a mathematical impossibility. She'd have a better chance of winning the lottery.
And the fact was—the temptation of getting more of what Brandon had given her last
night was simply too great to resist.
Thus it was ten minutes later when she found herself stepping down into the soft white
sand in her sexy new black bikini and the short, equally sexy black sarong she'd bought to go with it. She toted a straw bag on her shoulder containing a towel, sunscreen, and her work journal.
Although she'd felt a bit nervous upon first leaving her room so scantily clad, already
now, she felt sleek and svelte and sensuous as she padded across the beach toward her
reserved umbrella and chair—and she felt the eyes on her, just like last night in the
entertainment village. Again, it was nothing so extreme as the way people had stared at
White Bikini Babe, but Wendy knew she was being noticed, and she'd never felt more
desirable.
Her original questions, hopes, came back to her in a glorious sense of success as she
strolled up the shoreline. She could pull this off! The dress, the bikini, being a woman who sought pleasure, everything. It was a revelation. It was like waking up after a very long sleep. It was like looking in the mirror and suddenly realizing you were beautiful.
Of course, as she neared her umbrella, fresh new doubts crept in. Not about her new self-confidence, but about Brandon. Would he really find her here? The resort was enormous,
after all, the beach was long, and her reserved umbrella sat several building lengths away from where they'd "played" last night.
And as she spread out her towel on the beach chair and sat down, she began to feel like
an idiot to have had him practically begging to see her again and not being more precise about it. At the time, she'd liked being coy, as he'd put it. She'd never been coy in her life, and she'd been toying with the power of it. Plus she'd been stuck on her plan of "one night" and about it being solely sexual and, therefore, not about seeing each other again.
She could only chalk up her actions to
dignified old men who would announce to her that their employees had seen her having
sex on the beach—and not just the drink—and that they felt obliged to report this
behavior to her boss. She had no idea if being seen doing something like that would
automatically result in such a report, but she certainly didn't want to find out. And
couldn't afford to, either—-it was her job, her job where she appeared to be climbing the corporate ladder, her job that she loved. She couldn't risk messing that up.
But if she couldn't risk messing that up, why was she walking over toward the cute little Beach Bazaar shopping bag still sitting on a chair in her room and plucking out the two
pieces of the swimsuit?
Why was she holding them up, remembering the way they'd molded to her body?
Why was she dying to put it on?
Simple. Because Brandon's words still rang in her ears. I want to do it again. I want to do everything to you again. And more.
Despite herself, she couldn't help thinking: more7 What more could there be?
And how could she bear not finding out? After all, this was her one time away from home
by herself. This was the one time she'd already started something brazen and hedonistic
with a man, so maybe continuing it to see where it led only made sense.
If you can block out the "what if someone with the resort sees me?" part.
And realistically, she decided, she could.
Because this place was huge, with literally thousands of occupants.
Because the people who worked here were working now, not hanging at the beach or poolside during business hours.
This was a playground. It only made sense to play. And no one from the corporate offices would see her. It was nearly a mathematical impossibility. She'd have a better chance of winning the lottery.
And the fact was—the temptation of getting more of what Brandon had given her last
night was simply too great to resist.
Thus it was ten minutes later when she found herself stepping down into the soft white
sand in her sexy new black bikini and the short, equally sexy black sarong she'd bought to go with it. She toted a straw bag on her shoulder containing a towel, sunscreen, and her work journal.
Although she'd felt a bit nervous upon first leaving her room so scantily clad, already
now, she felt sleek and svelte and sensuous as she padded across the beach toward her
reserved umbrella and chair—and she felt the eyes on her, just like last night in the
entertainment village. Again, it was nothing so extreme as the way people had stared at
White Bikini Babe, but Wendy knew she was being noticed, and she'd never felt more
desirable.
Her original questions, hopes, came back to her in a glorious sense of success as she
strolled up the shoreline. She could pull this off! The dress, the bikini, being a woman who sought pleasure, everything. It was a revelation. It was like waking up after a very long sleep. It was like looking in the mirror and suddenly realizing you were beautiful.
Of course, as she neared her umbrella, fresh new doubts crept in. Not about her new self-confidence, but about Brandon. Would he really find her here? The resort was enormous,
after all, the beach was long, and her reserved umbrella sat several building lengths away from where they'd "played" last night.
And as she spread out her towel on the beach chair and sat down, she began to feel like
an idiot to have had him practically begging to see her again and not being more precise about it. At the time, she'd liked being coy, as he'd put it. She'd never been coy in her life, and she'd been toying with the power of it. Plus she'd been stuck on her plan of "one night" and about it being solely sexual and, therefore, not about seeing each other again.
She could only chalk up her actions to
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