"I'm sorry," I said. "You're a very beautiful girl, Joanie. I got
carried away, I guess."
"I understand how it is. But I'm not--not available. I don't mind
displaying my body, but you mustn't assume that every nudist is
automatically--automatically--"
"Sure," I said, profoundly uncomfortable. "It was an accident. Forgive
me."
We parted friends. But I felt a tight band of anguish across my belly
as I walked alone back to the cabin. It was by way of being a hectic
day. And I had made two mistakes already. Life in the nudist colony was
not quite the uninhibited orgy some people might picture. If anything,
the absence of clothes made for a much more complicated system of
_mores_.
In the water this morning I had made an involuntary grab for the lovely
Lorraine, only to find out that she was spoken for. And just now I
had been within inches of caressing the most superb bosom God ever
fashioned, only to have a steel wall clang down. And--between the two
incidents--I had practically been raped by an attractive but somewhat
overripe and definitely whacky nympho. An odd sequence of events. I
thought longingly of Lorraine's pretty boobs, and of the Aphrodite that
was Joanie Baker. I couldn't have either of them. But I _could_ have
Bonnie Carter, and I didn't want her. It always seems to be that way.
Meehan was jotting down some notes when I came into the cabin. He
looked up.
"Well, Romeo? What was the pow-wow about?"
"Joanie wanted to warn me about the Carter female," I said. "Seems
Bonnie eats men alive. Joanie gave me the tip that I ought to break
things up in a hurry."
"Sounds like good advice."
"And then I made a pass," I said. "It was sort of an accident again.
Like I mean, here was her thigh, and there was my hand, and--"
I saw a cold glare of jealousy flicker in my pal's eyes. He said, "You
want every woman in the goddam place, don't you, Al?"
"This one's all yours," I said. "My hand got removed as if it were
a sprig of poison ivy. She told me she just wasn't available. Your
theory may be right after all, much as I hate to admit it." I sighed
wistfully. "But there's something wrong with the universe if she's
really queer.
"A body like that was built for love. With men, I mean."
"There ought to be a law."
_CHAPTER FIVE_
One thing became clear about Bonnie right away. She was a leech.
She left me alone for an hour after lunch. During that hour I had
time to read through the outline I had written and to pencil a lot of
suggestions and ideas in the margins. Then Bonnie came bouncing up to
the cabin, her breasts doing a jig with every step. She was waving a
tennis racquet around.
"How about a game?" she wanted to know.
"I'm not much of a tennis player," I told her lamely.
"That's all right. Neither am I. But it's such wonderful fun."
I heaved a sigh. It was a bright and sunny afternoon, and I figured I
had done all the work I was going to do on my book for the day. Two
hours with the typewriter before lunch had left me pretty winded. I was
going to have to get into shape slowly for writing the book.
So a game of tennis wouldn't be a bad idea. On the other hand, I was
uneasy about getting myself further involved with Bonnie. And on the
third hand, I had to admit that Bonnie was pretty good in the sack, and
I might have some further fun with her.
"I don't have a tennis racquet," I said.
"Oh, we can borrow one. I think Ernie Bryan has a racquet he could lend
you."
Shrugging, I let myself be led away. Ernie Bryan was one of the
colonists that I hadn't yet met formally, but he had been pointed out
to me. He was a family-style nudist, the father of the twelve-year-old
girl I had seen doing calisthenics earlier.
The Bryan cabin was Number Four. Bonnie knocked and the little
girl came out, flaunting her unformed breasts in my face without
embarrassment.