Page 59 of Hook, Line and Single

‘The only nudist beach in Cannes,’ he tells me proudly. ‘It was your remark about skinny dipping that gave me the idea.’

‘I’m not taking my clothes off in front of you, and I’m certainly not taking them off in front of a bunch of strangers!’

‘Nobody’s forcing you to do anything, but if you fancy a dip in the sea, this is probably the only way.’

‘I’m not that desperate. You can go if you want. I’ll wait for you here.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Thanks, but no thanks.’

He starts peeling off his clothes, placing them in a neat pile on the ground, before marching completely naked towards the water. I don’t know what takes me aback more: Cameron’s brazen self-confidence, or the complete lack of interest the other people on the beach take in him. I can’t help watching as he walks into the sea, seemingly without a care in the world. Having felt how solid he is both at Alejandro’s and when we hugged earlier, I’m not surprised to see that he’s a very nice shape. His shoulders are broad, with just the right amount of muscle. The eye travels easily down his back to a pleasantly pert bum, under which his thigh muscles flex attractively as he wades deeper. Forcing myself to stop staring at him and glance around, it’s like I’ve stepped into some alternate reality. The beachgoers are engaging in all the things you’d see on the main beach down the road. They’re sunbathing, sitting under umbrellas reading, swimming in the sea, or chatting over a glass of wine. But none of them is wearing a stitch of clothing. It’s a literal smorgasbord of human flesh. I sink onto the sand, overwhelmed.

‘Excusez-moi, mademoiselle.’ The voice comes from above me and I glance up, only to wish immediately that I hadn’t. I’m literally face to face with a flaccid penis, surrounded by a few wisps of greying pubic hair. It’s obviously spent a lot of time in the open air, as it’s deeply tanned. I wrench my eyes upwards, past an equally tanned hairless pot belly that’s shining in the sunlight like it’s made of polished mahogany. I’m reminded momentarily of a Buddha statue before my gaze finally meets the face of the speaker. He’s bald, probably in his early sixties, with an impressive grey moustache.

‘Si vous voulez rester ici, vous devez vous déshabiller,’ the man tells me.

‘Pardon. Je ne parle pas Français,’ I explain, dredging up my best schoolgirl French and silently cursing Cameron for both bringing me here and abandoning me.

‘If you want to stay here, you have to take off your clothes,’ the man says, switching seamlessly to accented English. ‘It’s the rules, I’m afraid.’

‘Of course. I’m sorry,’ I tell him as I feel the heat of embarrassment flooding across my chest and up my neck. What the hell am I going to do now? My initial hope that he’d wander off and leave me alone after delivering his message is dashed when he settles himself on a rock next to me.

‘Your friend is enjoying the water,’ he observes, pointing at Cameron, who is floating in the sea. If I were capable of projecting a death ray with my eyes, I’d be incinerating him right now. My new companion is looking at me quizzically, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I’m willing him with all my might to go away. Unfortunately, my powers of telepathy seem to be severely misfiring as, not only does he not get the message, but we’re joined by an equally naked woman.

‘Salut, Philippe. Qui est ton ami?’ she says as he stands and embraces her warmly.

‘Je viens d’expliquer à cette jeune femme anglaise qu’elle doit se déshabiller si elle veut rester ici,’ he tells her.

‘She isn’t going to undress with you watching her,’ the woman says with a laugh. ‘Where are your manners?’

‘You are right. My apologies.A bientôt, Claudine.’ To my relief, Philippe gets up and wanders off.

‘Is this your first time?’ the woman I now know is called Claudine asks me. I’m trying hard to stay focused on her face, but I can’t help taking in the rest of her. Her ample, deeply tanned breasts have no hint of a bikini line but, unlike Philippe, she’s sporting an impressive bush of pubic hair.

‘Yes. My friend brought me,’ I tell her, pointing at Cameron, who is still floating happily in the sea. Maybe he’ll get swept away by a freak wave, or eaten by a shark.

‘There is nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of,’ she says. ‘Come. Take off your clothes and join him in the sea. The water is the perfect temperature today. You will love it. It’s easiest if you cover yourself with a towel to begin with. Do you have one?’

‘No.’

‘Follow me. I will lend you a towel. Bring your friend’s clothes.’ She takes me by the hand and leads me down the beach to a spot where an umbrella has been set up, with two chairs underneath and a cool box. One of the chairs is occupied by Philippe but, after the initial shock, seeing him again is less difficult. Claudine reaches into a bag and pulls out a beach towel.

‘Put that around yourself while you undress. Then, when you’re ready, I will count down andvoilà.’

I’m still deeply uneasy, but something about Claudine’s manner reassures me, and I wrap the towel around me as I wriggle out of my clothes, piling them neatly on the ground.

‘Are you ready?’ she asks.

‘No,’ I tell her honestly.

‘Just go for it. Drop the towel. I promise you the world will not end. I will count down.Trois, deux, un, allez!’

I fix my eyes on her, trying desperately not to think about what I’m actually doing, as I tug the towel away from my body.

‘There you are. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?’ she says encouragingly as I drop the towel on the ground. I daren’t glance down; although the soft breeze playing on parts of my skin that never normally experience it is firing messages to my brain that I am, in fact, naked, I think visual confirmation of the fact would be too much.

‘It is a nice sensation, hmm?’ Claudine says. ‘But you must be careful with the sun. You do not want to burn. Do you have lotion?’

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