Alyson grabbed a blanket and covered herself while blushing, her pale cheeks turning an attractive rose-red. "Alyson! What are you doing?" Sarah said, more than a bit shocked. You're doing the same thing I was doing, Sarah thought. I'm kinda proud of you. "Time to get dressed and get some breakfast!" Sarah said, walking back into her bedroom. Alyson, diddling herself! thought Sarah. Who knew?
The two girls dressed and walked down to the spa's most informal restaurant and had breakfast outdoors under a table-sized parasol. Alyson scanned the menu. "'Rapeseed,'" she quoted. "'From Duke/Conrad Industries.' I'll think I'll pass on that. I'll just have some regular cereal."
"Yeah, wouldn't want to lose control of yourself so early in the day," said Sarah. Alyson blushed and hid behind the menu.
In addition to all of the spa's recreational activities there were beauty treatments, health treatments, lots of gym equipment, and regular lectures on fitness and proper nutrition. The girls tried to pay attention during a lecture, but found their minds wandering. Not necessarily sexually, but wandering nevertheless. In one corner of the room was a bored-looking guy, trim and tall, with curly brown hair and angular features. It was Randall Viridian, although he had not gotten up the nerve to introduce himself to them yet. Neither woman thought he was outstandingly attractive, although both separately thought he had a kind, pleasant, rather sweet face. . . . The lecture over, the two girls went outside for a little tennis. Viridian once again rationalized a reason that this would not be a good time to say hello, and left the room to go to the men's gym--for a cold shower.
Alyson, having much fairer skin than Sarah, tried to stay out of direct sun as much as possible. A sunburn was not attractive. Alyson envied Sarah's lush, easily tan-able skin, that never seemd to burn, even when she had been in the sun all day. After a few days of careful exposure to the Arizona sun, Alyson was acquiring a healthy, rosy glow--and Sarah, a beautiful, burnished tan.
They went, after lunch, to the ladies' treatment rooms. Here, there were beds for massages and various treatments. On the first day, both women had been curious about the huge bowls attached to the bottoms of the treatment boards. "Those are for the comfort of our more . . . well-endowed female visitors," said the specialist. "To contain the breasts while in a prone position." Far from making the girls more comfortable, the special cups had demoralized them thoroughly. Their breasts seemed pitifully small compared to the gigantic bowls, dangling down gently, not even touching any part of the smooth, silky material the bowls were made of. It made them both feel a bit . . .inadequate. "Don't worry," the specialist had said, "it won't be a problem later." The girls had taken that to mean that they'd get used to it, and by now it was not a novelty. Every day so far both girls had been given light treatments of a delicious-smelling aromatic paste, all over their bodies. When they had been doused with a rinse of warm water, the scent coming off their bodies had been glorious, delicious, and even a little arousing. Today they were looking forward to this particular treatment, more than all the others in the brochure. Then both girls sat in the sauna for about fifteen minutes, their hair wrapped in towels, alone in the wood-lined room. Sarah could see Alyson across the steam-filled room, her head back. Alyson had unthinkingly slipped a hand under her towel, between her legs. Sarah watched in disbelief as Alyson diddled herself in the steam room, not even bothering to care if Sarah saw her. As a matter of fact, the sight of Alyson doing it made Sarah a little warm. . . . No, it couldn't have been anything but the steam room. . . . Sarah stuck a hand under her own towel. Thinking of the tall guy she had seen at the lecture that morning, eyes closed, she gently fingered her twat. Both girls opened their eyes at the same time. Their eyes locked, and their hands shot out from under the towels. . . . "I, uh, I uh, think that's enough for one day," Sarah said.
Meanwhile, Viridian played a round of golf with another male customer, a middle-aged man whose wife was inside being totally rehauled. Viridian made a call, after his round, to Parnell. Parnell wasn't too pleased:
"I don't give a rusty FUCK if you DID shoot an 88!!! I didn't arrange all this so you could fucking play fucking GOLF all day!!! Are you going to introduce yourself to them or what? You can play fucking GOLF in Palm Springs, goddammit! Either make friends, or come home and work!" SLAM! Well, he had a point. . . .
Now it was dinner time. Sarah and Alyson were in beautiful long dresses, Alyson's was deep green to highlight her hair, Sarah's was gold to bring out the tan of her beautiful skin. They were by the window, looking out at the other buildings of the resort and the desert landscape. Viridian was in the corder, eating alone, sulking, and cursing his lack of nerve. He had had much, too much wine, and he had bben staring at them, trying to compose a discreet note for the waiter to pass to them. . . .
"Either make friends or come home!!! You can play fucking GOLF in Palm Springs!!!!
"Hi! My name's Randall!" The two girls were looking up at him, weaving a bit next to their table. "I jush wanted to say that I've seen you two here this pash week, and you are both ECSHTREMELY beautiful. I mean really. I shot an 88 today!!"
The two girls were looking up at him. Not that he was bad looking, just a little drunk. Maybe he'd ask for an autograph and leave. "You two here alone? I know ALL about that! I've seen you two on TV! I've heard all those rumors about you two. I've heard you two have had your "likker" license for quite awhile." His voice lowered. "You know what I mean!" He seemed on the verge of laughing at his own "wit."
The two women looked at each other nervously. "Would you please LEAVE! You're EMBARASSING us!" That was Sarah, trying not to be rude to the "poor guy."
"Yesh, thanks for washing the show." Alyson had had a little too much wine, herself, it seemed. "Pleash leef us alone."
"I'm sorry, ladish. Goodnight," said Randall Viridian, heading for the elevators. Well, at least he broke the ice. . . .
Later, in the room:
"Good night, Al."
"Good night, Sair." Alyson leaned in for a hug. Which turned out to be a kiss. On the cheek. No, on the mouth. Which they both held for just a little too long. . . . They backed away from each other to go to their rooms.
Once in bed, they became so involved in touching themselves that neither one turned on the TV. . . .
Fri Jan 26 16:18:19 2001