Her warm body would snuggle up against him, her breath soft against his chest. She'd be small and slender underneath his arm, and he'd stroke her breast as he'd done during the Jamaica holiday. He touched his bare chest as though she was pressed against him, and sighed. The last two years alone had been unpleasant, but finding Angie in Jamaica had reinvigorated his life, like turning on all the colors where there had been lingering gray.The moment he'd seen her, he was strongly attracted to her. She carried herself proudly and didn't seem a bit shy, though she was topless and wearing the skimpiest thong bikini bottom imaginable on the clothing-optional beach. It was yellow, he remembered, neon bright against her tan. Her black hair and Hispanic features told him she was a Latina right away. Did she speak English, or would he speak to her in Spanish? He knew, without a doubt, that he'd speak to her. Even if she spoke Portuguese, he'd find a way to communicate.Admiring the way her firm breasts and round rear jiggled as she walked by, he saw his opportunity to meet her when she dropped her sun lotion on the sand.
