Vacation was about seclusion. It was what she needed. Getting away from it all. No work. No kids. No pager. No cell phone. On the really good vacations, no sobriety and no clothing either. Well, a swimsuit and some tanning lotion. But no real clothes. And lots of drinks. She found that the smaller the swimsuit, the more free drinks came her way. It all worked out.

The beach house was on its own out here. It was small, but beautiful. More of a cabana than a house, really. But it sat on the beach-side of a small hill. Heavy, tall stilts attempted to keep it safe from the ocean, but it had been remodeled recently, probably due to flooding. She didn't care. It was a rental. She never rented the same place twice. She had familiarity all year long. Vacation time was supposed to be different. New. Fun.

She'd been here a couple of days already, and had worn nothing but her bikini so far. She'd also been drunk more than sober, and not paid for a drink yet. This was easily one of her better vacations.

This morning she had slept in, not wanting to deal with anything as trivial as a hangover. She could lie all day in that big bed. It was a huge, soft beast of a bed, with a thick padded mattress and a heavy feather comforter. At home she always wore thick pajamas and nightshirts to bed. Here she always slept in the nude. At home the alarm clock would drag her out of bed. Here the sound of the waves massaged her into wakefulness. At home she would run around, taking care of everything and everyone, feeding and eating, cleaning and dressing, primping and running. Here she rolled softly out of bed, her bare feet enjoying the cool wooden floor. She would stand naked in front of the window and enjoy the view for as long as she wanted. She would lounge on the couch, still naked, and snack on whatever she wanted, and drink whatever she felt like.

This was vacation.

After her morning non-ritual, she always longed for her shower time. But not the closed-in fiberglass shell like she had at home. This one was outside, under the house. It was quiet and warm, nicely camouflaged and secluded.

She loved the feel of the rainfall-shower head. It poured down over her head and shoulders like a tropical storm, but she had the wondrous god-like ability to make the rain as cool or warm as she chose. And even better, dangling from the water pipe was a massaging shower head. The rainfall got her clean from the top down. The massager got to those wonderful places from the bottom up that gravity just didn't lead the water to on its own. It wasn't her fault she needed to use it. It was one of the basic forces of nature that kept the water from falling there on its own. Who was she to argue?

Today was no exception.

The shower from above was warm, but not hot. She turned up and faced it, feeling yesterday's sand flow down out of her hair, away from her face. She reached over with her eyes still closed, grabbed the shampoo, and poured it out all over her hand. She massaged it into her scalp, rubbing it into her hair, all the way to her shoulders. She used it like soap, covering her face and neck and chest. She made a thick lather on her stomach, her legs, behind her, in front of her, below her and beneath her. She rubbed it into the bottom of each foot and even between her toes. She loved this scent and wanted it with her until the ocean scrubbed it off.

She stood as the shower pushed the lather off of her in slow, steady streams. Her hands massaged the foam out of her hair as the shower did its work on her bare skin. She rubbed it off of her neck and shoulders, watching the foamy rivers spray off the tips of her elbows in white arcs. She scrubbed her chest clean, rubbing the front of her shoulders, moving down to her chest, feeling those wonderful tingles run through her as her fingers rubbed back and forth over her nipples.

As her fingers massaged underneath her breasts, she looked over the door of the shower at the homes further down the beach. Her fingers rubbed down across her nipples. She knew she was mostly out of site. Up across the nipples. She knew no one ever came looking back here. Down across the nipples. But she knew they could. She grabbed her breasts in her hands. She knew someone could decide to go exploring and ignore the signs and fences. Her thumbs massaged into her chest. She knew what was possible.

Her fingers pinched the tips of her nipples and she couldn't help but gasp. She loved that someone could be watching, even though she knew no one was. She pinched a little harder, twisting her fingers in the way no one else could quite match. She didn't know it, but her hips were starting to thrust, just the smallest bit, all on their own. The thrill of being completely naked outside was never lost on her. She realize she was moaning just a little bit, so she let her nipples loose. The wonderful little ache as the blood flowed back into them made her eyes roll back. She turned her face up into the water. The water poured across her face, into her mouth. Eyes closed, she reached out and grabbed the shower wand. She thumbed the switch to turn on the wand's water, and the stream of water shot straight up, hitting the underside of the house above her. She grinned. It was still set on heavy massage from the last shower. The spray changed from a jet stream to a hard spray with a small twist of the dial. She sprayed her lower back, her upper back, the back of her neck. The spray scrubbed at her sides, from her waist to her underarms, wriggling its millions of drops into her skin, cleaning away the dirt of yesterday, making way for the dirtiness yet to come. She sprayed along her legs, concentrating where the overhead spray could not reach. Between her calves, between her knees, between her thighs.

As she reached the top of her legs, she teased herself, just spraying where her legs met with her body, making little circles with the water, almost taking it to where she really wanted it, but still avoiding what she knew she wanted. She held it behind her again, spraying up between her cheeks. She felt her legs spread out all on their own, begging in their own way to her hand to spray it in more, higher, harder.

She loved fighting with herself like this. Pleasing and denying at the same time. She spread her legs a little farther. She let the spray linger behind her a little longer. Cleanliness was important. That's what she told herself. But, as always, she was loosing the battle with her primal self. The head of the wand had made its way against her skin, and she was grinding involuntarily against it. Her legs kept grabbing at the wand, pushing it further under her, towards the front of her, where every part of her really wanted it to go.

She looked out over the stall again, at the doors at windows off in the distance, and surrendered to herself. She raked the stream of water from the back to the front, then slowly back and forth across her hips and thighs, feeling the tiny streams of water tickle her as it went across. The occasional little watery finger would tap across her clit, making her shoulders shudder. She grabbed her breast again with her other hand, massaging her fingers in little circles, moving them in slowly until she was pinching her nipple again. She was shuddering from her spray and shuddering from her hand. Her knees were trying to bend beneath her. She could hear herself moaning. She could feel her hips grinding at the water. She let her breast go long enough to reach down and twist the dial on the wand back to heavy massage.

The little soft water fingers turned into thick strong pulsating fingers. They scraped and shoved into her crotch making her buck and twist in pure sensation overload. She grabbed the side of stall to keep herself upright, hearing herself escalate from moaning to grunting.

"Not so fast."

She froze in mid grunt.

A thick hand wrapped itself around her wrist on the stall.

A leather band wrapped around her wrist and his other hand snapped it tight.

She dropped the wand and reached for the strap, and a black hood fell over her head.

As she reached up to pull that off, her other wrist was pulled away to the side, and another strap wrapped on it.

She could hear a chain scrape against the ground and the wood of the stall, and her arms were pulled taught, straight out to her sides.

She wasn't in pain. At all.

But she was scared. And confused. Because she wasn't panicked. Something was odd. Other than the obvious, of course.

Another soft vice closed around her left ankle.

She tried to kick her right leg, but her arms pulled to the side kept her off balance. Another strap closed around her right ankle. She heard the unmistakable sound of chain through a metal loop, and her legs were now shoulder-width apart. And not going anywhere.

It all happened to fast, she didn't even think to scream.

Until now.

But as she took her breath to call for help, the hood pulled tight against her face, pulling her head back.

"Please don't do that."

That voice...

He let the hood loose again. Then she felt the bottom of the fabric begin to roll up. The sea air was loose on her neck again. Then her chin, her mouth, her nose. He pulled it tight again, the hood becoming a head wrap and a blindfold. She felt him tie it behind her head.

"What are you..."

A finger pressed against her lips.

"Shhhh"