Naked Came the Vampire (Hypernaturals 1)

Goddess Interruptus

Impactful. Only word I could think of to describe her.

Sandro Botticelli or Francisco Goya would have killed to have the woman before me as a life model. Rubens and Goya liked pink paint for skin color instead of her lovely brown, but other than her skin color, she is the living definition of "Rubenesque". 

Their loss. They should have found some other colors for their palette. More like the colors the wife-beating Paul Gauguin used for his Polynesian nudes. Not that this woman looks like she couldn't take care of herself against a slimeball like Gauguin. Not only Rubenesque, but she is probably as tall as I am, I think.

This living incarnation of the term 'big, beautiful woman' wore her dark, very straight hair long. Her skin is coated ever so slightly in a sheen of sweat. As if the makeup person had just run on set and spritzed her slightly. 

"Hello." She said, breaking my reverie. Mezzo-soprano or Alto. Not smoky or raspy, but rich and mellow. 

She tipped her head forward and pulled her big sunglasses down to look and me and let me know it is me she is addressing. I think she was surprised I had not originally noticed her standing there. When I finally noticed, I was struck dumb.

If you saw this set of eyes peek out over a surgical mask in an operating room, you'd know the operation was not only going to be a success, but the patient is going to live. They are alive with intelligence and at the moment, some amusement.

She is naked. We are at a nude beach, so her lack of clothing is to be expected. That really did not matter all that much. Fully clothed I would still be stunned by her presence. I would be lying if I said her magnificent nudity did not kick her effect on me up a notch.

Yes. Magnificent. Only word.

Her scent arrived to me on the breeze in a curling waft of air. I reflexively inhaled of her deeply.

Her scent went behind my eyes, tickled my brain in an ancient place.  

I scrambled to think of other things than her being right there and suddenly filling my senses. Like when you are trying to last a little longer during sex, and try to distract your mind from the pleasure of the moment. When you need to last longer so she can get there too.

"Hey?" I said back. She pushed her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose.

I felt a sense of loss. In the universal rule of forbidden fruit, I really want to see her eyes again.

I have been going to nude beaches all my life. I have always been situationally appropriate. Who hasn't had sex on a beach? But... Come on! Out of sight behind a sand dune: It's only good manners. Some people like to watch: sure. Not everyone. Some come for the sun! It's true!

I am suddenly acting as if I have never seen a goddess before. To be fair to me and my response to her? Tall, dark, self-assured, and woman-scented refugees from Flemish Baroque paintings do not normally walk up to me at nude beaches and out of the blue say "Hi". 

I wanted to ask the Goddess to join me here in my little spot on the beach, preferably in English. The problem is that before she stormed my little corner of the beach I was somewhere else thinking about woman troubles. Sad, self-indulgent thoughts.

She is not completely nude. She has on sandals, a broad-brimmed straw sunhat, big sunglasses that cover half her face, and she has a beach blanket over one arm.

She took pity on me and waved at the sandy ground next to me. "May I join you?"

I waved at the open sandy area to my right. Words appeared from someplace. "Make yourself comfortable".