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Larry asked me to dye him purple. A helpful soul at heart, I readily agreed, and we headed off to a camp that had kiddy pools and huge spray bottles of food coloring.
He stripped and I went to work with the spray pump and the nozzle. After a few coats had dried, he was a pretty satisfactory, slightly streaky, deep violet from head to toe.
"I love you," I began to sing, "You love me, we're a happy-" By then Larry had grabbed one of the bottles with an enraged roar. I took off running but I was too late. I arrived in camp cursing and irritated. My favorite red sarong was a blotchy maroon. My legs and face were streaked and speckled in lavender.
It was siesta time, the sun was beating down with midday force, and several members of Index were sprawled asleep in our front shade structure. The library was closed, and the rest of the camp had probably fled in search of cooler venues where they could lie on Astroturf under gently hissing sprayers and wait for the sun to set.
I was too preoccupied with venomous epithets for Larry to notice Tanya emerging from behind her car until she spoke. "Hey, Vinnie," she said, walking over. She was nude except for flip- flops and sunglasses. My muttering stopped dead.
"Amanda told me how long your tongue is," she said. "You don't have to show me." She brought her fingers up to my chin and gently shut my jaw.
I swallowed hard. "Happy birthday, Tanya. I like the suit."
"You do? I made it myself." She did a pirouette. "With a little help from my parents."
"Please do that again," I begged.
"This?" She started to take another turn.
"Stop there!" I demanded when she was halfway through, and took her shoulders in my hands to pause her.
"What are you doing?" she complained mildly.
"Staring at your ass," I explained. After a long moment, I took my hands away. "Okay, that wasn't nearly enough, but it'll have to do for now."
She turned around and looked at me appraisingly. "Looks like you had a little accident, Vinnie."
"Turns out Larry's not a big 'Barney and Friends' fan," I explained.
"Jesus, I'm not even gonna ask," she said, shaking her head. "I was about to take a shower. I think there's enough water if you want a short one after me."
"Sure... uh... want some help with yours?" Hey, no harm in asking.
She looked skeptically at me. "I dunno if I can trust you to behave yourself."
I looked stricken. "Do you want me to!?"
"Mmmm, we'll see. Come on."
Our shower setup was typical. A pole to hang your Sunshower™ bag from, a wooden pallet to stand on, two minivans and a bed sheet arranged for a modicum of privacy.
Tanya took her Sunshower off the hood of her car, and we tied it to the pole. I turned the nozzle, and the warm water started to trickle out. I held it over her head, and she turned and rubbed herself under the little stream, dark skin glistening as the day's dust ran off onto the ground.
Of all the experiences that week, the one that stays with me most vividly is the unaffected, casual grace of Tanya turning her lithe body under her little stream of Portland bottled water. Inches from her turning body, holding the stream in which she bathed, I still felt like a secret voyeur at a private ritual, like Actaeon trespassing at the bath of Diana, on the cusp of metamorphosis into a mute beast forever after. And Actaeon's punishment did indeed come to me, for I cannot tell of what I saw. My eloquence isn't equal to the task. I saw Tanya naked. She's a hot babe. She looked real good. Woo.
I shut the nozzle and stood back. I like wearing sarongs at Burningman-they're simple, they're cheap, they're cool in hot weather. The absence of pockets drives me crazy, though. I had no idea what to do with my hands, and crossed my arms self- consciously.
Tanya poured a little peppermint liquid soap into her palm and covered herself with suds. She arched her neck one way and then the other as she ran her hands over it. Her plump breasts shook as she soaped them. She streaked her flat belly with pale suds, whitened the thick black curls of her pubis as she ran her hands between her legs.
"Do you-" my voice broke.
"What's that?"
"Do you want me to do your back?" I managed to get out.
"Sure." She looked at me for a moment. "You might want to take off your tent first. -I mean, your sarong."
"Um-"Unable to think of anything to say, I undressed and stepped up onto the pallet, prick bobbing with each step. I moistened my hands and Tanya poured a little soap into them. She turned away from me and I started rubbing it into her shoulders. "Oh, that's good," she purred. I moved my hands down under her shoulder blades, and then ran them over the small of her back.
"Keep going?" I asked.
"Sure."
I ran my hands over the firm, high swell of her ass with a sigh of pleasure. I lingered over the taut skin there for as long as I dared, massaging the firm flesh with the heels of my palms, before moving on to the backs of her thighs. Tanya spread her legs invitingly and thrust her ass out. I took the cue, and ran a hand up the skin of her thigh to slide along her already-soapy vulva. She sighed in pleasure, but warned me, "Don't get the soap in my pussy-it stings."
"Okay," I said, and ran my hand up along the crack of her ass, feeling the knot of her asshole as my fingers glided over it. "Should I wash you here, too?" Please please please please?
"If you don't mind."
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