Susan opened the sliding door of the beach rental. The fresh breeze blew in from Lake Michigan. Susan inhaled, enjoying the air. The subdued sounds of nature washed over her. She heard no city traffic, no horns, no sirens, just waves climbing up the narrow beach and falling away. The rhythm of the water soothed her.

The noise of other people was noticeably absent too, excluding Roger, Susan’s husband. He, immediately upon arrival of their getaway vacation, got away to browse his phone for golf courses. Susan knew he had his clubs in the trunk, ‘just in case,’ and he’d be on the fairway as soon as possible. She didn’t think it meant within twenty minutes of finding their place.

Roger was out front, freshly changed into his outfit for the course. Susan could hear him grunting, struggling against the weight of his clubs as he moved them from the trunk to the backseat of the car. The clatter of irons, mixed with cursing, floated up over the one-level beach house from the front yard.

Susan paid Roger no mind and shortly thereafter she heard the crunch of gravel as the car pulled away. She went back inside. A bottle of white wine, meant for the both of them, waited in the refrigerator. She uncorked it and poured a tall glass for herself. Roger wasn’t around to enjoy any so she had his share too. Susan headed back out to the patio, drinking a bit more deeply than necessary. The wine flowed through her and she felt herself relax.

“Is this even fun?” she said aloud as she sat on one of the patio’s wicker chairs. The solitude was lovely and being left alone was nice, but that wouldn’t last long. Susan grumbled often about how her attention was always in demand. She could be at work, at home, or any other place and someone, somewhere, needed something from her. She told Roger more than once she wanted to be completely disconnected but she had meant her career and the kids. She didn’t mean her husband. She wanted to share some adventures with him.

His playbook for this trip probably included 18 rounds of golf followed by some fishing. Yes, this was his vacation too, but Susan would have liked to spend at least some of the sunlight hours together. She bet Roger’s plan was to be off on his own all day, come home for dinner, have some perfunctory sex, wash, rinse, and repeat.

Susan changed into her green one-piece bathing suit. She evaluated herself in the mirror. Not bad. Not great, for sure, but not bad. She still had some nice cleavage working as she showed the tops of her heavy breasts, but she paid for it elsewhere. Every part of her was kind of big. She was angry at herself for judging herself, but how could she not spot the chubby thighs, pockmarked ass, and the bit of flab on her arms? If she wore a two-piece, her stretch marks would be out in the open.

Susan tried to forgive herself. She was, after all, north of 45, with three kids under her belt. It was okay that she wasn’t a fashion model.

“Be nice!” she scolded herself. She put her long, dark brown hair up in a messy bun, slipped her freshly pedicured feet (coral polish!) into her sandals, tucked her towel under her arm, and headed back outside.

The patio flagstone radiated heat from simmering in the summer sun. The glass table had a furled umbrella sticking up through the middle, the blues and reds twirling around the pole. Susan cranked the umbrella open. The shade would cool the table down eventually, and she’d come back to read her book. She could explore the shoreline in the meantime.

She walked toward the water, a mere 30 feet from the edge of the patio. The beach was a mess. Driftwood, rocks, and other natural debris littered the sandy stretch. She stepped on a sharp stone and cried out. More potential land mines lay around her.

Susan looked up and down the beach. Sand stretched out to the right of her, clean and beautiful. It was clear of debris and welcoming. The other direction led back toward town, a few miles south, and was a part of the state park system. It looked wild and worse off than her own backyard.

She decided to walk along the shore. Next door obviously belonged to someone, but she didn’t see a house. The beach was as narrow as her own stretch, and a beaten path led headed from the beach and into heavy foliage. Susan assumed a house would be on the other side of the treeline, closer to the road. This was as good as anywhere, close to home, and she unfurled her towel to sit.

The plan was to enjoy the sun for a bit and pack up and head back to her own side of the property line. Susan unrolled her towel in the sun, sat down, closed her eyes, and inhaled. Peaceful. She could do this for the next three days while Roger was off doing ... whatever. It was his vacation too. He could have an adventure.

“Hello,” a woman’s voice called out, “Did you not see the sign?”

Susan turned, confused and embarrassed. She knew she was borderline trespassing, even if there were no signs posted. Busted.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said to the woman, who had emerged from the path leading into the dense growth, “But I didn’t see any sign.”

The woman wore a yellow sundress and had small sunglasses perched on her forehead. Her dark red hair was styled with two braids running down each side of her shoulders. Her very pretty face was a mix of suspicion and exasperation.

“You didn’t see the big red signs that said “PRIVATE PROPERTY”?” the woman said, gesturing away from the water, toward the road in front of the line of houses. Susan sighed internally with relief. She had an alibi now.

“No,” she said to the woman, “I’m sorry, but I walked from over there.” She pointed behind her, down the beach toward the rental. “I didn’t see any signs or anything like that.”

“Oh. You rented the Durham’s place?” The woman was much younger than Susan, perhaps in her late 20s, pushing 30.

“Yes, and forgive me if I’m trespassing. I thought the law on beachwalking was that I had to stay below the high-water line.”

“Everyone is a bit hazy on what constitutes trespassing with private property on the lake,” the young woman responded. “But you’re sitting on that towel and above the high-water mark. That doesn’t seem like beachwalking to me.”

“Guilty,” Susan said, blushing at being called out. “But our little beach next door is just ... icky.”

“I’ve seen it,” the woman said, nodding and obviously aware of the state of things at the Durham’s house. She signed after brief consideration. “You can stay here but just be aware this is my land. And I enjoy sunbathing naturally.”

Susan nodded as a shot of anxiety coursed through her. Was this woman about to lay out in the open totally naked? Could she still talk to her or was that weird? Who has that kind of confidence? Random thoughts jangled around in her head, and she tried to pretend everything was normal as the woman pulled the bright yellow sundress up over her head and off of her body.

That answers the question about being totally naked, Susan thought and fought back a nervous laugh.

The woman was indeed nude under the dress. Her long legs were tanned and well-defined, her body a mix of toned muscles and feminine curves. Susan looked away but not before noticing the woman’s entire body was deeply tanned, her skin smooth as porcelain.

This was surreal.

Susan battled to find a middle ground between staring and looking away. She found herself glancing toward the woman without realizing it. She settled on sitting quietly, looking out at the water. It was calming, and she felt the initial shock wearing off.

“Is this the first time you’ve been around a nudist?” the woman asked.

Susan nodded, unsure if she could say anything without sounding like a moron.

“It’s okay to be uncertain. I suggest you leave if you’re uncomfortable, but being uncertain is okay. I’m Zayna, by the way.”

Susan, overwhelmed by the absurdity of it, leaned over and proffered a hand. Zayna reached and took it, her grip firm. Susan noticed again how whipcord fit her body was. Zayna smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“And you are...?” she said.

“Oh, sorry,” Susan said, laughing, “I’m Susan.”

“A pleasure,” Zayna said, laying back down. She put her hands under her head, a pillow in the sand, and closed her eyes. Her rhythmic breathing matched the pace of the water ebbing and flowing along the beach.

Minutes passed. Susan was thrilled that she was having an adventure. Wouldn’t Roger be disappointed to miss this! Time passed and calm came over her. Her body relaxed and she breathed with the water, just like Zayna. She focused on a puffy cotton ball cloud floating overhead. She was proud she could handle this fun little challenge.

Suddenly, Susan jolted up. She heard the sounds of feet patting in the sand. She cast a worried glance at Zayna, who lay there completely exposed to whomever was approaching them. Susan almost threw her towel over Zayna’s body to help cover her up.

“Hey there,” called out a masculine voice.

Susan watched Zayna, making zero effort to cover up, tilt her head backwards and open her eyes. A beautiful smile bloomed across her face and she squealed when she saw the man headed their way. Susan would have squealed too.

The man was tall, handsome, and deeply tanned. He had close-cropped blonde hair and a flirty grin featuring straight white teeth. He glanced at Susan, nodded to her, and put his attention back on Zayna. Zayna turned, easily maneuvering her body into a sitting position, and sat expectantly.

“I didn’t expect you home until next week,” she said. The man knelt in the sand, cupped her face, and kissed her.

He really kissed her. He did a thorough job of it, and Susan felt the sting of jealousy. When was the last time Roger took the time to kiss her and mean it? Years, maybe more. She was lucky for a peck on the cheek when he left for the day or when he got home from work. He did sneak in a kiss on the lips if he happened to go golfing with his friends. It was more an apology or a thank you for Susan ‘letting’ him go play golf with the guys. Susan didn’t care for his attitude about it.

The man broke the kiss off and straightened up to stand. He glanced over, delight and amusement dancing in his eyes. His gaze was forward, making strong eye contact with Susan for several moments before he spoke.

“Hello,” he said in a rich baritone.

“Hi,” Susan said brightly, still pretending there was not a nude woman lying on a towel only a few feet away from her.

“She’s renting next door,” Zayna supplied, “And she’s trying desperately not to stare. I appreciate the effort, but it’s okay if you accidentally peek.” She looked at Susan. “This is a new experience for you, like you said. You’re granted grace because you’re not creepy about it.”

Susan didn’t know how to respond, unsure what was expected of her.

“Well, I’m Liam,” the man said, after a moment. He kept his distance, not bothering to reach over to shake Susan’s hand. He nodded politely to her.

“It’s a pleasure,” Susan said, “I couldn’t help seeing that kiss. You two are... “ she trailed off with a question mark hanging. Liam and Zayna exchanged bemused looks.

“We are two people who enjoy sharing life experiences together,” Liam said, “We don’t define ourselves with any titles or official ... whatever. We just ‘are.’ And we ‘are’ together, you know?”

Susan thought she understood and she nodded in agreement. She was open-minded enough to not need other people’s relationships clearly and articulately explained to her. She felt silly for asking the question a moment later and said as much.

Zayna lifted a sinuous arm and waved the apology away. Liam shrugged and looked out at the water, still standing upright. Susan felt like she should say more but kept silent for the moment.

Clouds floated overhead, and the rhythmic lap of the water was peaceful.

“You’re aware of Zayna’s preference to be clothing-free,” Liam said a minute later. “And it so happens that I prefer to go nude too.” He paused. “I know male nudity, compared to female nudity, has a different vibe for most people. Women are works of art, and men are ... threats, usually.” Zayna wrinkled her nose at that, scoffing.

Susan saw where this was going. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Liam is trying to be polite,” Zayna said. “He doesn’t want to say this is our property, and we’re doing what we want, but it’s our property, and my man is going to get comfortable.”

“Zee!” Liam tsk’d. “That’s not nice!”

Susan jumped in before Zayna could counter, “I understand. It’s your place. I get it. And you’re going to join your, uh, Zayna and enjoy. I can leave; that’s no problem.”

“Yeah, about that,” Liam said. “Our sand is a lot nicer than yours. I’ve seen next door, and the Durhams make no effort to maintain their yard. The place looks trashed, and they don’t care. They’re good people, they’re nice, and I’m sure the inside is spotless. They just don’t go out on the sand.”

“Why not?” Susan asked. “If I had beach property, I’d be out there all the time.”

“Oh,” Liam said. “They’re often in the back, for sure. We’ve been over on their patio a number of times. They just like a natural look to their beach, so they let it go to seed, so to speak. They’re pure patio people. They stay in the chairs and enjoy the view.”