You open your eyes to take in the woman making the offer.
"Nothing alcoholic, just an OJ, please." you tell her. She seems to know your room number, and you allow your eyes to slip closed.
Through the narrowed slits of eyes, you take in her departing rear. She dressed only in a barely there bikini.
Part of you rages that she has to dress that way for work. Your own body awakening you to something you hadn't considered before. As a guy, you didn't think about work uniforms. But with your new insight, it felt wrong that she had to dress to please the guests.
- - - - -
She returns as you're still musing on this. Your own well developed body feeling over-exposed just for existing. You can't imagine being forced to dress to display it.
She beams a broad smile, as you take the drink from the offered platter. A smile reflected back in response.
You raise the glass, silently 'cheers'-ing her, as she departs, you remind yourself, you're meant to be relaxing. The condensation running down the outside of the glass, chilling your fingers and making it slippery to hold.
You decide as a guest, you should indulge yourself too. Your eyes fixing on the bar tender's departing rear, as she moves between the various sunbathers with a sinuous grace of a belly dancer. Her hips flexing smoothly, but it's her rump that draws your eyes and holds them.
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