She stood near the window now, arms crossed loosely under her chest, watching the tree line below. The glass was cold against her shoulder when she leaned into it. The air up here was thin and sharp, and even through the sealed windows she could feel the chill trying to reach her. Her skin had goosebumps running down her arms and across her stomach. The bikini bottoms sat high on her hips, the metallic fabric catching a stripe of afternoon sun that cut across the suite’s polished floor. She looked down at herself and liked what she saw. The color against her tan skin. The cut. The way the top pressed her tits together just enough.
She turned from the window and caught herself in the mirror above the dresser. The suite had a lot of mirrors. She paused there, one hand on her hip, the other pushing through her blonde hair. It was still a little messy from the pillow. She hadn’t bothered fixing it. Vacation hair, she called it. The kind that looked better undone. She tilted her head and watched the light play across the bikini top as she shifted her weight. The metallic surface went from deep blue to something closer to violet depending on the angle. She ran both hands through her hair again, slower this time, lifting it and letting it fall. Her arms came down and settled on her own shoulders, then drifted. One hand traced her collarbone. The other slid down her side and rested on the curve of her hip where the bikini strap sat against her skin.
She knew she was being watched. She didn’t mind. There was something about the suite, the altitude, the silence up here that made everything feel like it was happening in its own sealed-off world. She let her hands move where they wanted. The right one came up and cupped her tit through the bikini top, feeling the metallic fabric, the slight texture of it against her palm. She squeezed gently and watched herself in the mirror. Her nipples were hard from the chill in the room, pressing visibly against the fabric. She brushed her thumb across one and felt the shiver move through her whole body. Not just from the cold.
Her other hand slid lower. Past the hip strap, across her flat stomach, fingers tracing the edge of the bikini bottom where it met her skin. She didn’t rush. She let her fingers drift along the fabric, following the line of it down between her thighs. The metallic material was warm against her hand where it had been pressed to her body, cooler everywhere else. She pressed her palm flat against her pussy through the bikini and held it there. Just held it. The pressure was enough to make her inhale slowly through her nose.
She moved to the bed. The sheets were white and stiff and expensive. She sat on the edge and leaned back on one hand, legs together, then let them fall open. The bikini bottom pulled tight. She could feel the fabric against her, the way it rode slightly as her thighs parted. She ran her hand down her stomach again, slower, and this time her fingers didn’t stop at the edge. She pressed through the fabric, two fingers tracing the line of her pussy through the metallic material. She could feel herself getting warm underneath it. The suit was tight and the pressure of her fingers pushed the fabric against her in a way that made her legs open a little wider.
She looked toward the window. The mountains were still out there, enormous and indifferent. The clouds were moving. Down in the village someone was probably having coffee. Up here she was alone in a suite that cost more per night than her monthly utilities, wearing a bikini that wasn’t meant for water, touching herself through it with her legs open on a bed she’d barely slept in. She smiled a little. Not at anyone. Just at the situation.
Her hand came up and cupped her tit again, pulling the bikini cup to the side so her nipple was exposed to the cool air. She pinched it between her fingers and felt the sharp little jolt move straight down through her stomach. Her other hand pressed harder against her pussy, fingers rubbing slow circles through the fabric. She could feel herself getting wet, feel it soaking into the bikini bottom. The metallic material clung to her when it was wet, outlined everything. She looked down and could see the shape of herself through it. She pushed the fabric tighter against herself and watched.
She slid one finger under the edge of the bikini bottom, just enough to press directly against her pussy. She was slick and warm and the contrast with the cool air in the room made her gasp. She held there, not moving, just feeling. Then she pulled her hand back out and pressed her palm flat against the outside of the bikini again. She liked it better through the fabric. The pressure was wider, more diffuse, and the texture of the metallic material against her clit was doing something the direct contact wasn’t. She rubbed in slow circles, legs open, head tilted back, one hand working between her thighs and the other pulling at her bikini top until both tits were exposed to the room.
She didn’t close her eyes. She watched the mountains through the window and felt the altitude in her chest and the cool air on her bare skin and the heat building under her hand. The bikini was soaked through and she didn’t care. That’s what the vacation was for.
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