Tanning Salon Tryst

The holiday was in two weeks and I looked like I'd never seen the sun. Emergency measures required.

Tan-tastic was one of those places that time forgot—wood-panel walls, motivational posters about beauty, and the persistent hum of sunbeds. The woman behind the counter matched the aesthetic: forty-something, orange as a traffic cone, bleached hair, and curves packed into a white mini dress that left nothing to imagination.

"First time, love?" Her accent was pure Essex, even though we were miles from it.

"That obvious?"

"Skin like yours, yeah." She looked me up and down approvingly. "Don't worry, we'll sort you out. I'm Brenda. Owner, operator, and the reason half this town doesn't look like milk bottles."

"Reassuring."

She led me to a room in the back—bed glowing blue, bottles of tanning lotion on a shelf. "Strip off, pop on the goggles, and give yourself six minutes. Any longer and you'll look like me."

"Would that be so bad?"

She paused at the door, turned back with a smile. "Cheeky. I like that." Her eyes dropped to my jeans and back up. "Need any help with the lotion? Hard to reach your own back."

"That part of the service?"

"It can be." She stepped back inside, closed the door. "For the right customer."

Five minutes later, I was lying on the sunbed in nothing but goggles and a towel, with Brenda's hands working coconut-scented lotion into my shoulders.

"Tense," she observed, her thumbs digging into knots I didn't know I had. "Desk job?"

"How'd you know?"

"All the fit young ones have desk jobs nowadays. Spend all day hunched over computers, come to me looking like you've never seen daylight." Her hands moved lower, down my spine. "You carry it all in your back."

Her touch was firm, practiced. Professional. Until it wasn't.

"That's very thorough," I said as her hands dipped below the small of my back.

"Want me to stop?"

"Didn't say that."

She laughed—low, knowing. "Thought not."

The towel disappeared. Her hands were on my arse, kneading, then sliding between my legs from behind. I groaned, spread a little wider without being asked.

"Very responsive." Her voice was closer now, breath hot on my ear. "Turn over for me, love."

I did. The goggles came off. Brenda was straddling the sunbed, white dress hiked up around her thighs, revealing a distinct lack of underwear.

"Hope you don't mind," she said, one hand wrapping around me while the other worked at her own dress. "Gets quiet this time of day. Girl has needs."

"No complaints here."

The dress hit the floor. She was all tanned curves and enhanced confidence—tits that defied gravity (and possibly nature), waist that nipped in, hips that flared out. Exactly what you'd expect from a woman who'd dedicated her life to looking a certain way.

"Like what you see?"

"Very much."

She climbed onto the sunbed—it wasn't designed for two, but we made it work—and positioned herself over me.

"Condom's in the lotion drawer. Grab one, would you?"

I reached, found it, rolled it on while she watched with hungry eyes.

"Ready?"

"Been ready since you walked in, love."

She sank down in one smooth motion, taking me entirely. The sound she made was pure satisfaction.

"Fuck yes. That's what I needed."

The sunbed creaked dangerously as she rode me, but Brenda clearly didn't care. She was all business—rolling hips, bouncing tits, a string of encouragement that would make a sailor blush.

"So fucking big—yes—right there—harder—"

I grabbed her hips, thrust up to meet her. The blue light gave everything a surreal quality, like we were fucking in a dream.

"Gonna come—already—keep going—"

She came with her head thrown back, orange-tinted skin glistening with sweat. I wasn't far behind—the sight of her, the feel of her, the complete absurdity of the situation all combining to push me over.

"Inside—fill me up—"

I did, gripping her thighs, buried as deep as the sunbed would allow.

We stayed there for a moment, catching our breath, the bed's timer still counting down.

"Well," she said, climbing off with practiced grace, "that's the best six minutes anyone's ever had in here."

"Felt longer."

"Best workouts always do." She was already fixing her dress, checking her hair in the mirror. "Come back Thursday for your next session. Same time?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Good boy." She opened the door, then paused. "Oh, and turn over. You've still got six minutes on the other side."

I left Tan-tastic with the start of a base tan and a standing Thursday appointment.

Two weeks later, I was on the beach looking bronzed as anything, texting Brenda updates on my tan maintenance.

Looking good babe, she replied. But you're fading. See you Thursday for a top-up x

Some things are worth the skin cancer risk.