A bespoke story and a stand-alone tale, but following the others in the series. It is unnecessary to have read those, but the following might be useful. Tyson, a young bodybuilder and aspiring poet, was posing as a model for a sketching class run one summer by Gale, a fine arts professor. She and her three students, Tammy, Quinn and Heather, became entranced by him and an open, lusty relationship quickly developed involving all five of them. In the end though, it was Tammy to whom Tyson was most drawn and, for the purposes of this tale, it is Tammy who has won his heart.
This is also my entry for the 2024 Nude Day event. Please enjoy.
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Tammy
Step back a bit…
I’d always gotten along well with Olivia, my mother-in-law. She’d been a rock to cling to when our Charlie had died in a climbing accident.
I hadn’t tried to keep it from her that I’d rented the empty basement apartment in my house to a young student. After meeting Tyson, Olivia had been impressed with how well he got along with Danny and Ariel, my children. His kind, gentle nature had won their trust almost from the first. That he seemed to openly enjoy taking them — us, I mean — to the zoo, to the science centre, to the fall fair, well, Olivia had noticed that, too.
I hadn’t shared the full scope of our relationship, of course.
It turned out that I needn’t have been so cautious.
“You like him, don’t you?”
Coming out of the blue, her question had caught me by surprise. I turned to her and saw only an open, friendly expression.
There seemed to be no point in denying that much at least.
“Mmm-hmm.”
The words came easily, but I was surprised I wasn’t blushing.
“And, I think, a bit more than that, Tammy?”
Now I blushed, started to stammer out something, but she pulled me into her arms, clung to me so neither of us could look at each other as she spoke.
“It’s okay, Tammy. You and Charlie were a good couple, good parents and I was happy for you both. But…”
“But?” I whispered.
“I loved my son. And I love you, too, daughter mine. But…”
“But?”
“I’ve often thought that men have it easier; they can afford to be romantic, going off on quests and fighting dragons, but we women have to be realistic about life.”
I listened silently, wondering now. This certainly did not sound like a reproach.
“And the reality is that Charlie’s gone, Tammy. I miss him and you miss him, but all our tears won’t bring him back.”
On cue, I felt a tear in one eye, sniffed slightly.
“No,” I whispered.
“God made us male and female for a purpose, hon. We do best in pairs.”
Suddenly, she pushed away from me, her arms around my biceps, staring me in the face. There were tears in her eyes, too.
“Tammy, I was delighted when you two got married, but that’s done. You’re a healthy young woman in the prime of her life. You need a man in your life and those kids need a daddy.”
I blinked as she continued.
“I think we know what I’m talking about, don’t we?”
That was Olivia – warm, generous, kind and compassionate. And pragmatic as a sledge hammer.
When I didn’t speak, she continued.
“I’ve dropped by once or twice, dear, the odd time I was in the neighbourhood. Your neighbour – Gale, isn’t it? – was babysitting. She was pretty close-lipped about where you were.”
Gale hadn’t mentioned that to me.
“And I when I called two nights ago, Tyson answered your phone.”
My blush turned scarlet.
Olivia’s eyebrows went up, but her expression was still friendly.
“I don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes, my girl. I can put two and two together.”
I just looked at her.
“I like Tyson, Tammy. He’s stunning and he treats you super well and the kids like him and…” she paused for a second, “not that you need it, but you’ve got my blessing.”
My tears started for real now and her mom-friendly hug was precisely what I’d had been needing. As a bonus, I realized that I wouldn’t have to feel sneaky about hiding things from Olivia anymore.
So, when the long-contested final settlement from Charlie’s insurance was grudgingly released, Olivia insisted on taking Ariel and Danny for a while.
“Have fun,” she said. “You two deserve it.”
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Day One
Tyson
There were two things I liked about the ship. OK, three, if you count the very comfortable bed in our stateroom.
The kitchens worked 24/7 and, while much of the fare catered to popular tastes – sugar, salt, deep-frying and so forth – they’d had other options, some good enough that I’d allowed myself to temporarily drop my normal protein supplements.
Equally important was that the boat had a surprisingly good gym. I’d been worried about letting myself go, but Tammy had done her research before booking our passage.
Most gym-goers have a preferred workout time. Back home, I generally hit the weights first thing in the morning and sticking to that seemed a good canlı bahis plan. Most of the passengers were, I suspected, still in bed when I walked through the door the first time.
A figure on the treadmill caught my attention the moment I entered. A few years older than me, she was almost as tall as Tammy, with dark hair maybe six inches below her shoulders and runner’s legs, very long and very trim. Her quite delicious figure was highlighted by an attention-grabbing two-piece pale blue yoga set that covered the essentials while concealing very little.
We didn’t speak, just gave each other the usual nodded we’re-better-than-the-flabby-masses gym acknowledgement. She ran, I moved metal.
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Helen
Of course I noticed.
Compared to the white-haired, crêpe-skinned passenger norm, he was outstanding – tall, totally good-looking and, well, ‘muscular’ wouldn’t begin to come close. I’d never fancied serious bodybuilders before, finding them almost grotesque distortions of what people should look like.
But this lad was neither grotesque nor distorted. Rather, he was textbook gorgeous, masculine beauty perfectly presented, with every muscle clearly defined.
He had expressive, soft brown eyes, a strong chin and well-trimmed dark hair. He was clean-shaven; it took me a minute to notice that he seemed to have no visible body hair and I wondered if that was a bodybuilder thing.
Everyone knows that silly trope about men walking into things when their eyes are caught by the sight of a beautiful woman. As I watched, he pulled off his t-shirt and I suddenly understood how it could happen. With his broad shoulders, major arms, narrow waist and tree-trunk thighs, I realized that it was a good thing for me there were no lampposts in the gym.
I found myself wondering what those solid chest muscles would feel like under my fingertips and felt my tummy tighten.
This wasn’t me! I’d come on the cruise to get away from a man and, just a day later, here I was, shamelessly drooling over the first bit of beefcake to wander by.
As I watched, he put down one set of weights and picked up another, his long fingers gripping knurled shiny steel. I was suddenly struck by how well his nails were trimmed. Why I focused on something so trivial, I’m not sure, but I soon found myself wondering what it would feel like to have those hands on me. Would he be gentle under all that strength? I shivered, felt a soft pulse in my ears.
Wiping perspiration from his face with a gym towel, he started to look my way and I turned away rapidly, trying to hide the flush on my cheeks. I hadn’t felt this clueless since I was maybe 14 years old; I hoped he couldn’t hear my heart beating.
I sped up my pace on the treadmill, kept my eyes on the display for a minute. I was aware of how my breasts were shifting with each step and wondered if he’d noticed, too. I realized to my embarrassment that I couldn’t decide if that would please me or not.
When I looked up again, he’d turned away and, a big kettle-bell in each hand, had started a series of squats. I found the play in the muscles in his flank, back and legs mesmerizing.
I prolonged my usual run for a couple of minutes, then a couple more. I was still running when, getting to his feet, he used a towel to wipe down the equipment he’d been working with. He pulled on his shirt, smiled briefly as he passed me on the way to the door before leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Bad thoughts!
No, actually, I thought, they were pretty good thoughts.
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Day Two
Tammy
I’d brought my sketching supplies on the cruise. Tyson’s posing had brought us together, after all, and I’d promised Gale I’d stay in practice.
I’d done sketches of him in various places around the liner, but I’d only been able to draw him properly – nude – on our balcony and that didn’t offer much variation. I was looking forward to our next stop.
Then I thought of the gym, where he’d be dressed in a pair of shorts and, maybe, a pair of earbuds. He’d also be moving instead of just sitting or standing still, which would provide more of a challenge for me. It wouldn’t be utterly bare Tyson in Gale’s sunlit back yard, but it would beat him leaning against a lifeboat dressed in shirt and shorts.
I caught the gym door, let it close softly; I was pretty sure he’d not heard me come in. I stood there, silently watching him.
About six inches taller than my five foot ten, he carried his 225 pounds very, very well.
His shaved body was coated in a heavy layer of perspiration and I felt my heart speed up in anticipation of a shared shower later.
I walked up to say hello, but Tyson was a machine when he was in the gym and nothing short of the Second Coming would interrupt his sets; he merely smiled in acknowledgement. I blew him a kiss, pulled up a chair and dug out my charcoal.
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Helen
They knew each other, that was clear. I wasn’t surprised by her familiarity; a popüler bahis man that handsome deserved somebody as appealing as she was. No, not red-carpet, high-fashion-model pretty, hold the reality and two sides of makeup, please. Rather, while she was very cute, her best feature was her confident, wholesome air.
Well, that’s what I thought until she smiled and I suddenly became jealous.
I walked past her on my way out. Her charcoal sketch was, to my amateur eyes, compelling. More than just a cold, draftsmanlike image of the man, her minimalist picture had captured what seemed to me to be his very essence – rugged, powerful, taut masculinity.
“That’s really good,” I said without slowing down.
She turned her head and smiled, then I was out of the room.
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Day Five
Tyson
“Nice dress.”
Tammy’s voice was soft, almost too soft. Surprised, I followed her eyes, saw who she was watching and immediately pulled up a Vegas-level poker face. No man in his right mind comments favourably on another woman in the presence of his wife or girlfriend, not even to agree with her. Um, perhaps especially to agree with her.
It was, though. Nice, I mean.
The dark silk of the ankle-length backless gown flowed from her shoulders to her ankles like morning fog drifting down a hillside — weightless, almost liquid, clinging to but hardly obscuring her figure. A triple row of pearls circled her neck above the plunging neckline.
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Tammy
I don’t often get jealous. I’d learned to deal with that when Gale brought Tyson into my world a year ago, a treasure to be shared with her and two other equally attractive women. I soon learned that a quarter share of Tyson was more than a full share of most normal men and the clear dividends had made sharing much easier.
So, No to jealousy, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t, um, notice.
Okay, I was noticing her quite intently as she made her way through the First-Class dining lounge. The room’s collective eyes shifted with her, men and women following her progress.
With different thoughts, I suspected.
Her tall stature was emphasized by four-inch stiletto heels visible through two side slits in the filmy skirt, slits ending far too close to her waist for my liking.
But no jealousy.
Really.
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Tyson
I take that back. It wasn’t so much a ‘plunging’ neckline as it was ‘full-throttle power-dive’ neckline. A woman I’d once known had termed such as ‘deadbeat’ necklines, ones leaving the breasts with no visible means of support.
Judgmental, I’d thought at the time, but descriptive enough.
With some very nice sideboob (yes, you’re getting the picture), a pert bottom and those endless toned legs emphasized by the slits in her skirt, the image she was projecting was, to say the least, eye-catching.
I was pretty sure that she knew she looked, was capitalizing on it. No woman in her right mind dresses that way by accident.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Tammy, her lips thin and her eyes narrow.
I pulled my eyes away from the woman.
Tammy turned towards me and I gave my bestest, brightest smile.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you say something?”
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Tammy
“I said she has a nice dress.”
“Oh.”
I realized I couldn’t read his expression.
The woman had the effrontery to wave at us as a server seated her at a nearby table.
Tyson started to wave back, caught himself and merely shrugged instead.
“I think yours is prettier, hon.”
At least he’d tried.
I closed my eyes, considered what this must seem like to Tyson, now embarked on what amounted to our honeymoon. Envious women are no great catch and Tyson had done nothing wrong. Indeed, neither had she.
Why then was I so upset?
I took a deep breath, tried to think of myself as somebody deserving this magnificent man. I let the breath ease out slowly. Another deep breath and I willed the green-eyed tension away as I exhaled. Tyson was mine and I knew I could have total confidence in him; I saw no need to worry about that.
Think about it, girl — he had a choice between you, Gale’s mature beauty, Quinn’s blonde effervescence and Heather’s sultry curves. Which one of us is wearing his ring?
I suddenly felt guilty. Men often say they feel like they’re walking a tightrope; it’s not right to play to their insecurities.
I opened my eyes to see the server bringing the woman a menu and I realized that she was dining alone.
No time like the present to correct a mistake.
I put on a sweet smile and, leaning over to give Tyson a quick peck on the cheek, put my hand on his arm.
“She’s by herself,” I noted.
“Is she?” Tyson’s gaze didn’t shift away from me.
I squeezed his hand, watched his gaze fall to my hand.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered. “We women are hard-wired to be defensive.”
I saw him relax somewhat.
“Look at me, Tyson,” I said. güvenilir bahis siteleri His head rose again in response.
“I mean it. I got overprotective for a minute. I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It’s okay.” His soft smile made me realize all over again how lucky I was.
“Look, she’s your gym buddy, yes?”
“Not really. We actually haven’t said a word to each other.”
“You know what I mean, Tyson.”
“I don’t even know her name, Tammy.”
I found again myself marvelling at the changes in me, at how different I was from the shy, withdrawn, pre-Tyson Tammy.
“Why don’t you invite her to join us, honey?”
I could see the surprise on his face.
“Please,” I said, trying an open, happy smile. “I know I can depend on you, Ty. I’m not going to explode if you talk to another woman.”
Not after having spent the past year watching Tyson making love to three other women in front of me. Dinner with a fully-clothed fellow-passenger I could handle.
“Are you sure, love?”
Sometimes men are like puppies — not too bright, but generally trainable with the right treats.
“Mmm-hmm. Go and ask her before she orders, please.”
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Helen
I was perusing the wine list when I became aware of his presence. The man could certainly move silently.
It was the first time I had seen him smile and I was struck by the perfectly even, bright teeth. It dropped a weight into my tummy. Darn it but he was handsome!
“I don’t think we have been properly introduced,” he said. “My name is Tyson. My fiancée,” and here he gestured towards the tall woman, the artist I’d seen in the gym, “My fiancée noticed you were by yourself and wondered if you would care to join us?”
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Tammy
I could see the momentary surprise on her face, quickly overcome. Tyson extended his hand and helped her to her feet. As they made their way to our table, I saw him catch the server’s attention, wave his finger from her table to ours, saw the server nod in response.
The woman held out her hand. “My name is Helen,” she said. “Thank you for the invitation.”
She had an intriguing accent. It was British, I thought, but couldn’t pin it down further than that. I found it just a touch exotic and quite delightful.
“Tammy,” I responded. “It’s our pleasure. In any case, us young-uns need to stick together on this geriatric raft, right?”
She had a nice laugh, I thought, a friendly laugh, a laugh that came easily. I was pretty sure that I’d made the right decision.
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Helen
I’d intended my dress as a sort of light-hearted tease to the elderly crowd surrounding us. I hadn’t anticipated possibly stirring up problems with another woman my age and her sincere, open friendliness was a relief.
They were Tammy and Tyson and, their actual nuptial date not having been set, they were on their pre-honeymoon. No, they didn’t cruise often, in fact this was their first. I didn’t do the sea voyage very often, either. She was a stay-at-home mother and he was a poet, working on his first book. I worked in a basement government office, keeping the nation’s nose to the grindstone.
The food was, as expected, excellent. I have a particular fondness for a good rack of lamb and the menu even specified English lamb! A reasonable Bordeaux paired with it perfectly. Tammy had flipped back and forth before settling on grilled Pacific salmon. A small piece between her lips, a short moment of chewing and her face almost melted with pleasure. Tyson of course had gone for a large beefsteak, medium rare. I guessed his body needed a lot of protein.
As eating slowed down, conversation restarted. No, I had no children; I smiled at the photos of Tammy’s two. No, they weren’t doing the full cruise; they were getting off in a couple of days and spending some time in a private villa on a small island. I myself was planning to land in Miami, possibly heading up to Orlando to do the Disney thing, but there were no hard plans. No, nobody was meeting me, my latest boyfriend and I having recently parted under disagreeable circumstances.
Tammy paused at that last and apologized if her question had hurt. I assured her that my wrath was fading with every day at sea.
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Tyson
I was enjoying myself. A small knot of tension in one shoulder eased away as I saw Tammy shake off the last of her pique. She and Helen drifted slowly into Girl Talk, terra incognita for me. I allowed my attention to wander around the dining room.
Barring a few couples with children, we three were the youngest there and there was absolutely no doubt that I was sitting with the two loveliest women on the liner. I settled into my chair, relaxed and pondered my good fortune as I sipped a second glass of port. I held it up to a light, examined it.
Drinking port. Wearing a tux. You’ve come a long way, Ty!
My eyes slid back to the two women at my table. On one level, they were quite alike — tall, fair skin, long dark hair, blue eyes. Their features were different, but I found both sublimely lovely. Helen might have had a slightly larger bosom, but Tammy had hardly been shorted in that department — slender, but very feminine. I also sensed a serious intelligence in Helen, one perhaps matching Tammy’s.