The Beautiful Kind

One of the best parts of being in Las Vegas was that the resort had a secluded topless pool. This means that instead of just the men getting to be topless, women were granted the privilege as well, though they had to remain hidden from general public view, lest their exposed breasts traumatize a child.

Anyway, I jumped at the chance to be topless outside, to feel the breeze caressing flesh normally concealed. I slathered on the SPF 50 and drank tropical cocktails and ogled the other women (the men weren’t worth ogling) and tried to ignore the obnoxious techno music that kept rhyming the words “sexual” and “intellectual.”

A small Latino man was going around spritzing the women with Evian spray, and my companion motioned him over to tend to me. Despite it feeling creepily subservient (I guess he could have a worse job), I went with it. I rose out of the water with my arms outstretched and my eyes closed, a sublime smile playing on my lips as I felt the delicious sensation of the hot sun on my head and torso replaced by the cooling mist. Ahhhh!