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We talked about the lovely island, the great weather, and the nudist colony. The girl kept
staring at my body. She was a large girl, rather tubby and decidedly unattractive, yet she
had a remarkably strong and sunny personality. I found myself liking her regardless.
She talked of her camper van back in New York, how it was strategically situated near Cen-
tral Park, and that as she was overly fond of indulging herself in sex, it was the ideal place
to be. She had come out to St. Maarten to further her “career” in the shallow world of sex
and naturally had made it a priority to visit the colony.
She had a strange recurring utterance which she kept repeating, “I need some salt.” I ig-
nored it. As we sat in the morning sun, and with my first cup of coffee, I felt more at ease
with the girl and started telling her some of my past life and the more spicy affairs I had
had.
Her enthusiasm for things sexual was contagious and after our third rum and coke a while
later, we were telling each other all our deepest, secretive, sexual affairs and fantasies and
all the while the girl kept saying how she “needed some salt.” I finally asked her what she
meant by that, and she smiled secretively, rose from her towel and said, “Follow me, I'll
show you.” She clambered down the steps with her giant breasts freely jiggling about and
went straight to the double forepeak bunk.
I went up to where she lay like some large artist's Madonna from the romantic era in Paris.
She reached quickly over and pulled my towel from around my hips. I can recall how she
smacked her lips afterward, saying, “Oh, now I've had my salt.”
At the end of the week after work one Friday, I was sick of the sordid sex world of the
nudist colony. I had witnessed more than I was ready to see and had been propositioned by
a quite a few disgusting old women and even a couple of gay men. One evening I had been
sitting at the bar, and a distinguished looking man in his late fifties approached me. He in-
troduced himself as a film director and asked if I would indulge his wife in a threesome.
The man motioned, with his leonine head, to where his wife stood waiting at the entrance
door.
She was a beautiful young creature with a shapely body and long, black hair; her face had
a sad apologetic look, and she hung back shyly. I found her most appealing, but politely
declined the embarrassing offer (especially as there was money offered).
I hauled up anchor and set sail early on the following day, Saturday, and sailed back to
Marigot Bay, on the French side. I had had word from my twin brother Gavin. He was
planning to visit soon and join me on the cruise for a while. I was keen to see him again.
I wanted some perspective in my life now. Gavin was good company and had excellent
crewing capabilities. Things had been getting a little too wild of late and I felt out of con-
