The Bikini Blunder

I can't help but smile when I see you through the window. In your hands are a pair of my floral bikini bottoms and they appear to have transfixed you.

Until a moment ago I was irritated that you had asked to wear them but your awkward stance and the blush that has crept round to the sides of your neck give you a vulnerability that makes me want to take care of you.

You don't want to put them on, I can tell, but you aren't sure whether it would be more embarrassing to try to back out.

This is our second trip to the swimming pool during your stay with me. Usually the lodgers on my total immersion language course have a working knowledge of French, but yours is faltering and you lack the confidence to make yourself understood. Perhaps this is why you find yourself holding a "bas de bikini" decorated with pink flowers and a lacy frill around the waist.

On our first visit to "la piscine" you could be excused for bringing the wrong type of swimming costume. Your shorts were quickly spotted by the lifeguard and you slunk back to our changing hut. I offered you my bikini bottoms. They were shiny, but black and plain and looked to anyone passing like a man's costume. Maybe they fooled you too.

In any case, you were without a usable swimming costume when we returned a few days later and meekly requested to borrow mine again as it was your turn to go into the changing hut. I rolled my eyes. I wanted to wear them myself and besides the black ones were still in the laundry basket. The costume I had brought was girly and people would surely laugh.

"C'est dans mon sac," I said severely, and gave you the bag with my beach clothes in it. The door of the hut closed and you were gone for a long time.

Eventually I peep through the window and see you standing naked, the bag contents emptied on the floor. You have picked through my sarong and silk beach dress in the hope of finding the black bikini bottoms but there are only the frilly floral ones.

I call to you to say I am coming in. You hurriedly step into the bottoms and draw them up your legs. You have barely finished by the time I enter and I watch as you self-consciously adjust the fabric to cover yourself.

I laugh. "Tres joli," I say and walk around you to admire how closely fitting they are. "Mais il y a un probleme, n'est-ce pas?"

I reach down for the pale pink sarong and look you in the eye. You are ashamed to hold my gaze, but you don't want to look down in case it draws attention to the mound forming in the front of your bikini. I pass the sarong behind your back and pull the silk material taut as I wrap it around your abdomen. The sarong tightens against you but your excitement is barely concealed. I put my hand to my mouth in an exaggerated gesture of surprise.

I pretend to think as I look you up and down. The beach dress is next. I part the neck of the delicate golden satin and place it over your head. You let me thread your arms through the sleeves and feel the dress drop down to your thighs. The ruffled hem catches on your erection and I giggle softly, then more loudly as you squirm.

Catching your eye again, I raise my eyebrows as if seeking consent to smooth you down. My hands run over your dress, your sarong, your bikini. My touch is slow but does not stop, even as you begin to moan softly. I reach downwards and beneath the outer layers to allow my fingertips to stroke the underside of the bikini.

You want to resist but you are confused and don't want this feeling to stop. Your eyes close. Your body relaxes.

You are consumed by the tingling sensation spreading from my touch. I rub the front of the bikini rhythmically and you realise that you are going to come like this. You start to form words of protest but they are just whispers between sighs. You feel the dress brush against your sides as you approach the point of no return.

I am talking to you now. You don't fully understand but you know I am describing how pretty you look. "Tu aimes ca, oui? C'est pourquoi t'as demande le bas de maillot?"

You long for this to be over and suddenly the moment is upon you. You let out a cry of distress and shame and you come uncontrollably.

You feel giddy and wonder if your legs will buckle when I take your elbow and guide you towards the door. Your eyes remain closed but you sense the brightness of the sunshine and the prickle of grass beneath your feet. The plastic of the sun lounger feels warm through your dress as I lay you down. A breeze cools the wetness seeping into your bikini. Your mind drifts amid the poolside chatter and laughter and you fall deeply asleep.