Mrs. Anderson Plans a Vacation

My sister's brother-in-law is in Mrs. Anderson's English language class for foreign students. He is the brother of my sister's husband. Dorian recently moved to America from his home in Greece, and he's now enrolled in English classes at the local university.

His teacher is Mrs. Anderson, who is in her late forties. Mrs. Anderson has a very appealing look about her. But she dresses conservatively in a way that does not flatter her nice figure, and her hair style adds to an overall appearance of plainness. Teachers, after all, probably do not want to dress provocatively anyway.

I met her when she visited my shop recently.

My sister married in to a Greek family, which led to visits to Greece and more familiarity with Greek life and culture. Touring the ancient sites has been amazing, and even more eye popping were the sights on clothing optional Greek isle beaches. I'd heard of such things, but there's nothing like strolling among some exquisite naked ladies who were not shy about roving male eyes.

After working in an office for too long, I decided to open my own small business that sold only vacation and beach wear and accessories. It was a gamble, but lucky for me there has been enough sales to provide an income and enough to spare for more travel to Greece to purchase inventory for my shop.

One day in her English language class, Mrs. Anderson mentioned that she was going to vacation in Greece the next summer, and after class Dorian was eager to talk with her about her trip to his home country. He bragged about the sights and beaches, and Mrs. Anderson told him that she had reservations on one of the lovely Greek islands where she would enjoy the beach.

Dorian assumed that Mr. Anderson would travel with her, but she told him, "Oh, no, this will be a trip with an old girlfriend of mine. We've always wanted to see Greece and especially to enjoy the islands."

"Well then," Dorian replied, struggling a bit with his English, "you should visit the shop of my sisters' brother. He sells good clothes for tourists, and he gets them from Greece."

She said, "I will do that. What is the name and address of his shop?"

That's how I met dear Mrs. Anderson.

She came to my store and introduced herself at Dorian's teacher. "Oh," I said, "I've heard about you. He praises you so much."

She smiled and nodded.

Then I added, "But he did not tell me that you were not only wise but also so beautiful."

She blushed at my comment and laughed slightly. I must admit that standing there in a loose fitting dress with a sweater and glasses, and her hair straight and only combed to one side, Mrs. Anderson did not look like a beauty. But certain things were obvious. Her cheek bones were exquisite. Her eyes sparkled. Her smile lit up her face. Although the dress concealed her bust and waistlines, I could see that she had shapely calves.

"What may I do for you?" I asked.

Mrs. Anderson told me about her upcoming trip, and she was interested in beachwear, a good pair of sunglasses, and wanted to browse my shop.

"Be my guest," I told her. "Will you be traveling alone?"

She told me about her girlfriend and that her husband just was not interested in a trip to Greece.

On the walls of my shop I have posters of Greek vacation scenes and of the beaches. Toward the back of the store, near the bathing suits, there are two posters that promote nude beaches. Neither are overly provocative, but one has a photo of a naked couple from the read, male and female, standing and looking out to white sand and the azure sea. I casually watched Mrs. Anderson as she walked toward that direction, and she did stop and stare at the posters for a few moments.

Some customers see those posters and inquire about clothing optional beaches in Greece, and I'm happy to tell them what I know. As you might imagine, women are a bit shy about asking such things, but a few have. Often, I'm not sure if they want to know so they can avoid those beaches or if they want to find those beaches and for once in their lives present their nudity for the world to see. After all, if we were among strangers, many a woman and many a wife might feel inspired to show off their charms.

After a walk through my shop, Mrs. Anderson stopped to ask me, "I like some of these suits, but I have to run along now. May I stop by tomorrow? And what is your policy about trying on bathing suits?"

Legally, you cannot try on a bathing suit over bare naked skin, but when a lady such as Mrs. Anderson asks, I have my own policy, "Oh, we'd be happy to see you again, and you may try on suits in our fitting room. These bathing suits are actually tailored to fit you. They're not simply sized, and we can handle alterations for you."

"How interesting," she said, "bathing suits I've bought before never fit me right, and I had no idea that suits could be tailored. See you tomorrow."

My mind was spinning. "What have we here?" I wondered. Was this a plain and simple tourist, or was this a wife who might allow herself some liberties in public? Just the thought of this plain wife letting her libido out of the closet among strangers caused my pants to tent.

After her classes the next day, Mrs. Anderson once again came to my store.

"Hi," I greeted her, "are you ready to make some selections?"

"I hope so," she said, and she walked around the store among the racks of one and two-piece bathing suits. She took a few with her and walked into the dressing room area. My shop has two dressing rooms and a central tailoring station.

As she shut the door, I called out, "Let me know if you want an opinion."

Luckily, there were no other customers in the store at the time, so I could devote my full attention to Mrs. Anderson. I listened as she unzipped her dress and enjoyed the sounds of a woman removing her garments. I spoke to her through the door, "Which island are you visiting?"

When she replied, I told her, "Oh, that's my favorite. Those two posters in the back of my shop are from that island. It's famous for its fine beaches and even clothing optional ones." Then I added, "But if you were to go to one of those beaches, you'd put me out of business." We both laughed at that comment.

A few moments later, I heard the dressing room door open. She must be in the tailoring area looking at herself in the mirrors. "May I see how it looks?" I asked.

She seemed timid when she replied, "Well, I guess so."

To my delight, there stood Mrs. Anderson in a one-piece suit, a very traditional suit, but finally I could see her entire body. Her chest was small, nothing major to report from up top, but her waist and hips were perfect, and her legs were amazing. Looking at her, I thought, "This is why I opened a store like this!"

But, of course, I acted professionally and only said, "That is a lovely selection. We could make a few adjustments for your shape. But do you have others to try?"

She did, and she vanished into the private room to change. Two minutes later, she came back out and modeled a stunning black one-piece, and I was treated to another view of her charms.

"A word of advice," I offered. "Let's pretend you are wearing that suit on a perfect sunny day on a beach in Greece. Would strangers looking at you cause you to feel embarrassed, or do you feel confident?"

Mrs. Anderson looked down at herself, then looked in the mirrors. She didn't know what to say. I decided to push the conversation to a new level.

"Turn around, please," I asked. Mrs. Anderson turned slowly. "Now, please turn around again, but this time hold your arms out to the side, then turn again with your arms raised over your head." She did as I instructed.

My eyebrows furrowed and my face had a look of concern. "What is it?" asked Mrs. Anderson. "Do you see something?"

"Well," I said, "I recommend that you also purchase a wrap or sarong you can wear while walking through the hotel lobby, you know, for more privacy. That will take care of the problem."

"What problem?" she wondered.

I was ready to begin my plan, but at this point I had no idea if it would go well or would end in disaster. Here's what I told her, "When you raised your arms, that has the effect of stretching the suit material taught, from your shoulders down to between your legs. We can see about adding something to conceal some visible hair 'down there' or we can try another solution."

It looked like the blood had drained from Mrs. Anderson's face. She didn't blush; she looked pale. I jumped back in before she could say anything, "This is a common problem, and I see it every day in my work here in the shop."

Mrs. Anderson turned around and looked in the mirror. She raised her arms up and down and stared at her pussy. Sure enough, she could now see how her bushy pussy created not just a pronounced puffy zone down there but also some actual hairs were visible to the public.

"Do you think I should shave?" she asked me.

"Well, there are a range of choices," I happily replied. "A small trim would help. But it depends on a larger question."

"A larger question?" Mrs. Anderson asked.

"Yes, trimming is fine, but there are other options would be shaving or waxing." I could see that her head was spinning. "And the question is: How interested might you be, while there in Greece, to sunbathe without a bathing suit."

Again, her silence spoke volumes.

"Just so you know," I continued, "your island has one of the best nude beaches in the world, and many tourists take advantage of being among other strangers to, for once in their lives, actually go naked in public. Take it from me, I have tried it, and it is a wonderful feeling."

Mrs. Anderson was nodding her head up and down, as if to say, "Yeah, I heard you, and I'm a little stunned about what you told me just now." But she said nothing.

"It's up to you," I said, "just think about it, and you can decide later, when it's closer to your trip."

Mrs. Anderson finally spoke, "OK, but let me try on this other suit."

In a few minutes, she came out wearing a two-piece. The suit was flattering, just as the others were, but this time even she remarked, "Oh goodness, look."

When I looked, I saw that a little tuft of pussy hair was revealed above the pant, as well as the stray hairs at the legs. She said to me, "Golly, I see what you mean."

"Think about your options," I told her. "You can do something very simple, or you can prepare yourself for the vacation of your life."

When I said that, I knelt down in the tailoring room, nearly eye level with her bikini bottom, and asked her, "If I may?"

I don't think she know what I meant or what I intended to do. She just knew that I had politely asked her, "If I may?" She did not say no, so I gently touched the sides of her hips where the bikini rested, then I allowed the tips of my fingers to slide very slightly under the waistband and pulled them up snug. The material stretched and outlined her pussy lips that were only inches from my eyes.

I nodded and said, "I thought so," not because it meant anything but just to make her think that I had some plan to adjust the garment.

Then I did the opposite. I slid the bikini bottom downward back to its original position, then lowered it a bit further. More silky pubic hair come into view as I approached the swell of her mons. I stopped, of course, but not before I saw the tiniest hint of the uppermost split of her pussy lips. I told her, "Your private area appears to be very robust and in need of some treatment before you travel. If you purchase beachwear from us, we also provide those services here in our shop."

Mrs. Anderson was a big dazed. She could only respond, "I'll think about it. But what do you mean about services with a purchase?"

"Oh," I said, "we have waxing and hair removal services. It's become so popular, and in this business we had to add the services."

At that point, I back off and left Mrs. Anderson alone. She dressed and was soon out the door and on her way home. I had no idea if I'd see her again.