The Game the German Set Up on the Nude Beach

Renata had spent fifteen years turning other people’s money into more money, and for the first time none of it mattered to her. At the fund management firm where she worked, they considered her a visionary: the woman who smelled out a trend before it existed, the one the big European funds would compete for with checkbooks in hand. Mauricio, her boss, juggled to keep her. And she, who at her best had never thought of leaving, now only wanted to throw it all up and get off the ship.

The only thing still pulling her out of her stupor was Daniel’s gift. A strange card, a logo that rang a bell somewhere, a promise with no explanation. Sometimes she thought it was all a lie, an excuse to keep her mind occupied and away from the cliff edge.

—Don’t take a sabbatical —Mauricio had told her—. Take the days you need. And if you don’t want to disconnect completely, come by on Monday for the meeting with the fund that wants to get into tech.

—All right, that works for me —she had conceded, not all that enthusiastically.

The firm occupied the sixteenth floor of one of the most expensive towers in Málaga, with views over the harbor and the open sea. Renata arrived at the meeting late for the first time in her life, fresh out of a beauty salon, with her hair straightened and her skin still warm from the spa. She blushed as she walked in: she wasn’t used to being the last to arrive.

The foreign fund team was waiting for her in the glass-walled conference room. It was headed by Lukas, the director: German, in his early fifties, almost two meters tall, athletic build, and white hair that gave him a distinguished air. Renata noticed his masculinity at once, though he displayed it with a restraint that was almost insulting. He was accompanied by Iván, a Russian with a thug’s face and exquisite manners; Sven and Pieter, two tall, lanky blondes; and Marco, the youngest, a Spaniard of barely twenty-two. Rounding out the group was Brenda, the executive secretary, English, blonde, attractive, and disarmingly charming.

Renata laid out the area’s prospects with her usual coolness, but something had changed. Every time she looked up, someone on the team was studying her closely. Politely. Subtly. They handle too much money to care whether a woman is pretty, she told herself, though she didn’t quite believe it.

—Renata, how’s your schedule these days? —Mauricio asked when the meeting ended—. Our friends are staying on for some sightseeing. I’d love for you to show them around.

—Of course, I’ll put together an itinerary of places to visit…

—Don’t worry —Lukas cut in, with a slow smile—. If you don’t mind, we’ll be the ones organizing you. Dinners, culture and, of course, the good kind of beach. How does that sound?

—Uh… yes, all right —she replied, thrown off balance. Normally she was the one in control in these situations. That man, in a single sentence, had taken the reins out of her hands.

—Then that’s settled —Mauricio said—. Renata, give them your phone number and you’re excused from setting foot in the office. You’ll devote yourself to whatever they need —and he emphasized that “whatever” with a look.

***

She had nothing to wear. Eight years without going out partying leaves a wardrobe full of suits and empty of nights. She had to call Carla, the only friend she trusted, to drag her through the shops in the center and help her pull out her card like she hadn’t in ages.

Only Lukas and Brenda came to the first dinner. The rest of the team had “met people” and had their own plans. They dined in an intimate restaurant, chatted, laughed. Renata found herself oddly comfortable, until Lukas stood up, put on his jacket with exasperating elegance, and announced that he was exhausted.

—You’re young, enjoy the night. It’s on me and I won’t take no for an answer.

As he was saying goodbye, a hand emerged from between the tables, grabbed Renata’s phone, and vanished at a run. The two women froze just long enough for the thief to disappear. The one who didn’t waste a second was Lukas, who went after him and came back minutes later with a grin from ear to ear and the phone in his hand.

—How did you do that? —Renata asked.

—Best not ask —Brenda laughed—. He’s a wizard at this stuff. Pity the fool who catches up to him.

The phone was intact. Only Renata didn’t remember having turned it off. I’m disconnecting too much, she thought, and let the detail go.

***

With the champagne Lukas had left paid for, the two women went out to drink the night away. They ended up on a terrace by the seafront, dancing like Renata hadn’t danced in years and, above all, talking. She needed to let it all out, and Brenda turned out to be the perfect listener.

She told her the last eight years. Her friends’ betrayal. The block. The feeling of not knowing where her life was going. And, somewhere in the confession, she admitted that she didn’t even feel like touching herself anymore, she who as a young woman had been a master at it.

Brenda was stroking her leg while she listened, slowly, unhurriedly.

—That has to be fixed —she murmured—. Your body is at its prime. If your head isn’t keeping up, your body ends up making you pay for it.

Then she told her own story. As a teenager she hated sex: she only studied, only competed, and each day she was more alone. Everything changed at her first job, in a multinational. A trip to Hamburg, a meeting where her boss expected a lot from her. Renata listened without blinking.

—When I was gathering up the presentation, he came up behind me —Brenda said, in a lower voice—. He moved my hair aside and kissed my neck. It was so gentle it completely undid me. “You’ve brought in twenty-five million all by yourself,” he whispered in my ear.

At just over twenty, Brenda was still a virgin. That man found out, and instead of pulling away, he went slower. He laid her out on the boardroom table, removed her suit garment by garment, and spent half an hour with his mouth between her thighs before she truly opened up. When he finally penetrated her, he did it millimeter by millimeter, and afterward they stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for a good while without speaking.

—That’s when I discovered I like fluids —Brenda said, and her hand was still moving up Renata’s leg—. Theirs and ours. That day I became his right hand.

Renata realized too late how far that hand had gone, and that at the neighboring tables more than one diner was watching them openly, men and women alike. She sat up abruptly, burning with embarrassment.

—I’ve embarrassed you —Brenda said, amused, as Renata paid.

—No… not at all. But…

—Don’t worry. Tomorrow is another day. Feel like breaking the ice? I’ve heard wonderful things about a nudist cove.

Renata was still so off balance that she said yes without thinking, she who had never even gone topless in her life.

***

She arrived at the cove nerves jangling. It was June and a weekday; the pebble beach was almost empty. She spread out her towel, removed her sarong, and, eyes closed, took off the top of her bikini. The Mediterranean breeze brushed her breasts like a velvet caress. She rubbed on sunscreen slowly, mulling over the surreal situation she was living through, when her phone rang.

—Renata, it’s Brenda. Bad news: something’s come up and I have to stay at the hotel. I won’t be able to make it. Enjoy the morning, I’ll make it up to you.

Stood up again. What am I doing here half naked? she thought, as a tear slipped out without permission.

Ten minutes later, her solitude was broken by four German tourists, in their twenties, who soon planted their towels just a few meters from hers. Renata played dumb, as if she didn’t understand the language, though she spoke it perfectly. And then she heard what they were saying about her: what a backside, she must be a prude who hadn’t realized where she was, that she was dying for someone to rip off her last item of clothing with one swipe. She was on the verge of turning around and giving them a piece of her mind. But something in her, exhausted from always being the one in control, preferred to wait and see how far they would go.

The move backfired. Two girls appeared, the Germans lost interest instantly, and they all went into the water together laughing. Renata watched the scene as one watches her own life sink: always one step behind, always late. She turned over on the towel and didn’t even bother taking off the only garment she had left.

Suddenly, an eclipse blocked the sun in the middle of her freckled redheaded face. She opened her eyes and went rigid.

—Lukas? What are you doing here?

—I’ve got a place nearby and wanted to go for a swim —he replied, taking off his T-shirt and swim trunks and standing completely naked a hand’s breadth from her—. And you?

—Well… I wanted to disconnect, but I’ve been stood up —she answered, without mentioning Brenda. Inside, something began to stir. She admired that man, but she hadn’t expected to run into him there, and certainly not like that.

Lukas began rubbing sunscreen all over his body, stopping with deliberate slowness between his legs, as if he were stroking himself, half a meter from her face. Renata tried to look away and yet didn’t miss a single detail.

—I’m going into the water. Will you put sunscreen on my back first? —he asked.

—Uh… yes, sure —she said, dazed. He had a broad back and skin burning hot. Renata felt as if she were climbing onto a cloud with no brakes and didn’t know how to handle the shift.

He gently took her hand and led her to the water. He suggested she take off her bikini bottoms, that she’d feel freer. She refused: it was her first topless sunbathing, and she was still embarrassed.

—You’re too old to be embarrassed, darling —Lukas said—. You have a beautiful body; it’s meant to be shown off.

Inside the water they swam, talked, played like two teenagers. The waves rocked them and, every so often, their bodies brushed. Lukas’s cock, still flaccid, bumped against her ass with an insistence that made her knees go weak. In one careless moment, Renata climbed onto his back and hugged him, feeling for the first time in years that current of arousal she had thought dead. She held herself back. There was too much money at stake, and she was terrified he’d take her for a slut.

But Lukas was a master. He suddenly ducked under the water and tossed her forward; when she surfaced, her bikini bottoms were gone.

—No, Lukas, please, give them back. This isn’t a game.

—I don’t have them —he said, stifling a laugh—. The sea must have swallowed them. You’ll have to dive for them, there isn’t much depth and the water’s crystal clear.

Flushed with embarrassment, Renata started diving like mad until she found them: snagged on Lukas’s cock, now completely hard. She came back up red as a tomato, looking all around as if the cove were full of people watching her.

—Take them —he challenged her—. Or are you afraid of what you might find?

The German had been calculating the waves for a while. Just as she stretched out her arm, a big one lifted her and slammed her into the two-meter-tall man, who wrapped his arms around her so the undertow wouldn’t drag her away. Now she was pressed against him, skin against skin, and she could feel his shaft throbbing against her pubic hair, free for the first time in the sea. Lukas could have taken her right then and there, with the wave as accomplice. He didn’t. He knew the real pleasure was in leaving her only the cherry on the tip of her lips, the ones of the mouth and the others.

The scene did not go unnoticed. The group of boys and girls still in the water were smiling and whispering. When Renata realized it, she wanted to die of embarrassment and asked to get out, but not before retrieving her bikini bottoms so she could make it back to shore dressed.

***

Outside, they dried off and reapplied sunscreen. Renata lay face down so she wouldn’t expose her breasts any more and let him rub lotion into her back with a massage that made her shiver. Lukas didn’t need to slip his fingers under the fabric: he knew she was already on the edge. He asked permission to move down to the backs of her thighs, “since they’re so red,” and with a gentle motion he slid his fingers along the edge of her bikini bottoms. A moan escaped Renata that she couldn’t control.

She sat up abruptly, embarrassed, and suggested they go get a drink to smooth over what had happened, as if no one had heard it. The situation was overwhelming her. She was aroused, yes, but if she screwed up with the German, Mauricio would kill her.

They gathered their things and headed toward the cars, parked beside a housing development so no one would see Renata leave her own car in front of the sand. What a coincidence: Lukas’s rental was next to it. She got in first and went over to ask for the address. He leaned through the window, the bulge in his swim trunks still clearly outlined.

—Darling, why don’t we go to my place? It’s close. I want to treat you as you deserve for everything you’ve done these past few days. And I owe you an apology for the water.

The way he said it threw her off again. Outwardly she kept it together; inside, she was lubricating in a scandalous way. It had been eight years since her body had responded like this. Lukas had his head almost inside the car, a hand’s breadth from her face, and she was afraid he could smell what she was producing.

—I didn’t know you liked driving around with your tits out —he said, with a half-smile—. You’ve taken to toplessness nicely.

—Oh shit! —Renata brought her hands to her chest. Her sarong had slipped down when she got in, and she’d crossed half the parking lot exposed without noticing, so absorbed was she—. Sorry, I hadn’t realized.

—You’re gorgeous, if I may say so. You have wonderful breasts —and he shot her a look full of desire, but held back the urge to kiss them. Renata caught the intention. And the worst part was realizing her brain would have wanted him to do it—. Follow me, we’ll be there in ten minutes.

As she drove behind him, Daniel’s gift came back to mind. The card, the logo that seemed familiar, days of silence. Her normally surgical mind refused to focus, and that worried her. She decided that as soon as she was done with Lukas she’d call Daniel to warn him that maybe they had scammed him; she cared about him too much to let them take advantage of him.

However, as she headed up the drive to the villa with her heart pounding and her thighs wet, a suspicion began to cut through the fog. The phone turned off at dinner. Brenda standing her up that very morning. Lukas showing up at the only cove where no one knew her. Too many coincidences for a woman who made her living ruling out chance. She parked in the garage without quite finishing the thought, and that was precisely the moment when the game truly began.