Chapter 6: The Bikini and the Beach
The morning sun sliced through the blinds like a blade, painting golden stripes across Joanna's face. She blinked awake, disoriented for a moment, her mind still tangled in the remnants of a dream she couldn't quite grasp. Something about warm hands and the smell of vanilla.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and the memory of yesterday came flooding back. The box. The bikini. The way she'd stood in front of the mirror wearing a scrap of coral fabric that made her look like someone she barely recognized.
A crash from the kitchen told her Katie was already up. Joanna swung her legs out of bed, padded to the doorway, and found her roommate wrestling with a blender, a pile of fruit and spinach spread across the counter.
"Smoothies," Katie announced without turning around. "For our big beach day. You're not backing out, are you?"
Joanna leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I said I'd go."
"You said you'd think about it. I'm not giving you an out." Katie finally turned, and her face lit up. "Oh, shit. You're already wearing it."
Joanna looked down at herself. She'd pulled on the coral bikini without really thinking about it, throwing a loose tank top and shorts over it. The fabric felt cool against her skin, the strings at her neck already tied.
"Just trying it on again," she said, too quickly.
"Uh-huh." Katie's grin was insufferable. "Well, it looks good. Now drink your smoothie and let's go before the good spot gets taken."
---
Pacific Beach sprawled before them like a postcard from a forgotten era. The sand stretched for miles, pale gold and impossibly soft, meeting the Pacific in a froth of white foam. The waves rolled in with a lazy rhythm, unhurried, like they had all the time in the world.
The boardwalk was quieter than it used to be. Joanna remembered coming here as a kid, before the mandates, when the beach was packed with families and tourists and the air smelled like fried food and coconut sunscreen. Now, clusters of students dotted the sand, their laughter too bright, their movements a little too choreographed. A few older folks sat in folding chairs, watching the horizon with the resigned stillness of people who'd seen too much change.
Katie spread out a massive beach blanket, anchoring it with a cooler and a tote bag stuffed with towels and bottles of water. She stripped off her cover-up with theatrical flair, revealing the black bikini that clung to her curves like a second skin.
"God, I love this," she said, stretching her arms overhead. "No practice, no classes, no mandatory anything. Just sun and salt."
Joanna pulled off her tank top, hesitating for just a moment before letting it fall. She felt exposed, standing there in the coral bikini that covered almost nothing. But Katie was already looking at her with approval, and the warmth of the sun on her bare skin felt good. Real.
"Come on," Katie said, grabbing her hand. "Let's hit the water before it gets too crowded."
The first touch of the ocean was a shock, cold and electric against Joanna's ankles. She gasped, the water climbing her calves, her knees, her thighs. The salt stung her skin, but in a good way, a cleansing way. She waded deeper, until the waves lapped at her waist, and she could feel the undertow pulling at her legs.
"It's freezing," she called back to Katie.
"It's invigorating," Katie shouted, already diving under a wave. She surfaced a few seconds later, water streaming from her blonde hair, her tattoos glistening. "Just get in, you baby."
Joanna took a deep breath and plunged forward, letting the water swallow her whole. For a moment, there was only the roar of the ocean in her ears, the rush of bubbles against her skin. She surfaced, gasping, and shook her head, sending droplets flying.
"Okay," she admitted. "That was worth it."
Katie floated nearby, her arms outstretched, her eyes closed against the sun. "Told you."
They swam for a while, letting the waves carry them, their bodies rising and falling with the swells. Joanna felt light in a way she hadn't in months. The pressure of school, of practice, of the mandatory sessions—it all seemed to dissolve in the salt water.
When they finally stumbled back to the blanket, Joanna's legs were shaky and her lips tasted like brine. She collapsed onto her towel, letting the sun warm her chilled skin.
Katie sat beside her, fumbling in the tote bag. She pulled out the bottle of scented lotion, the one from the box. "Here. Put some of this on. You're going to burn."
Joanna took the bottle, unscrewing the cap. The scent hit her immediately—vanilla and sandalwood, warm and intimate. It smelled like Rachel. Like the room where she'd first touched her.
"You okay?" Katie asked, watching her.
"Yeah. Just—" Joanna squirted some lotion into her palm, rubbing her hands together. "This scent is weirdly specific. Like she knew exactly how I'd respond to it."
Katie raised an eyebrow. "She's trained, Jo. They all are. They know what they're doing."
"I know." Joanna spread the lotion over her arms, her stomach, her legs. The lotion was silky and absorbed quickly, leaving a subtle sheen. "That's what freaks me out. She knows me. She knows what I like before I've even figured it out."
"Does that have to be a bad thing?" Katie leaned back on her elbows, her face tilted toward the sun. "I mean, think about it. She's been studying your file, your psychological profile, maybe even your hormone levels. She's figured out what makes you tick. And she's using that to make you feel good."
"It feels like a violation."
"It's the government's way of keeping us happy." Katie opened her eyes, looking at Joanna with a knowing smile. "And let's be honest, it's working. You've been different since your first session. Less tense. More... I don't know. Open."
Joanna's hand stilled on her thigh. "I'm not different."
"You're wearing a bikini that's basically a tan line on a beach with half the team, when a week ago you wouldn't even wear a sports bra to practice." Katie's smile widened. "That's different, Jo."
Joanna didn't have a response to that. She finished applying the lotion, capped the bottle, and lay back on her towel, her eyes closed. The sun beat down on her skin, and she could feel the scent of vanilla rising off her body.
After a while, she heard footsteps approaching in the sand. She cracked an eye open to see two girls from the golf team—Maya and Jenna—heading toward the water. They waved, and Joanna waved back, forcing a smile.
"Joanna, that bikini is ridiculous," Maya called out. "In a good way."
She felt her face flush. "Thanks?"
"Just saying. You should wear stuff like that more often." Maya's eyes raked over her with an appreciative glance before she turned and jogged toward the waves.
Joanna stared at the sky, her heart pounding. The compliment had felt... good. Weirdly good.
"See?" Katie said, not even looking at her. "That's what I'm talking about."
---
"That's what I'm talking about."
Joanna turned her head, a retort dying in her throat as her gaze landed on Maya. She had shed her shorts and was jogging toward the surf in a white triangle bikini that looked like it had been designed by someone with a vendetta against fabric. The suit was so minimal it was almost architecture. Her skin was a deep, even bronze, impossibly smooth, and her body moved with the athletic grace of a golfer who never skipped leg day.
Joanna watched her, and for a moment, the sun seemed to angle itself to trace every line of Maya's silhouette. Her breasts. The thin straps that disappeared around her neck. The lean curve of her waist as she dove into a wave.
"She's gorgeous," Joanna said, before she could stop herself. The words left her mouth like they belonged to someone else.
Katie laughed, low and knowing, and sat up to follow Joanna's gaze. "Maya? Yeah. She knows it, too." Katie shielded her eyes, watching Maya emerge from the water, water streaming off her shoulders. "Golf team's been sleeping on her. Present company included, evidently."
Joanna swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "I just meant—I can appreciate aesthetic beauty. Doesn't mean anything."
"Sure it doesn't." Katie reached over and pulled Joanna's sun-streaked hair away from her face. "Hey. It's okay. Appreciating is the first step."
"First step to what?"
Katie's grin was slow and dangerous. "To understanding why this whole program isn't the punishment you make it out to be."
Joanna opened her mouth to argue, but then Maya emerged from the water, shaking her hair out, droplets catching the light like tiny crystals. She spotted them and waved, and Joanna felt her heartbeat pick up in her chest. She gave a small, tight wave back, then looked away, focusing very hard on an interesting grain of sand beside her towel.
"Speaking of water..." Katie said, drawing the words out with theatrical casualness.
"I'm not following."
"Maya told me her therapist, Bindi, makes her squirt." Katie said it without preamble, like she was discussing the weather or a new espresso machine. "Like, several times a week."
Joanna's hand froze where it was tracing circles in the sand. "She told you that?"
"We're close, whatever." Katie shrugged. "She said Bindi's really good at it. Like, it took a few sessions to figure out the right angle, but now Maya walks out of there feeling like she's been reset."
"Reset," Joanna repeated, the word tasting foreign. She thought about Rachel's hands on her skin during that first session, the careful way she'd read Joanna's reactions. The way the orgasm had built and then broken over her like a wave. "I don't know if I'm ready for a reset. I'm not sure I even want one."
"You think you want to go through life all tense and wound up?" Katie lifted one eyebrow. "You've seen what relaxation can do for your swing. Your drive has improved twenty yards since you started this. You don't think that's connected?"
Joanna's practice results had been undeniable. Even her coach had commented on the new fluidity in her game. "That might just be the season."
"And a pig might fly." Katie shifted, turning on her towel to face Joanna fully. "Have you squirted?"
The question was so blunt that Joanna choked on air. She coughed, her face heating beneath the sun. "What?"
"Have you squirted?" Katie repeated, patient as a cat. "During your sessions with Rachel. It's a real thing, and it's definitely a thing they do."
"Squirted. Like—" Joanna lowered her voice, glancing around at the scattered groups on the sand. "You mean like, actual squirting?"
"Of course. You didn't think it was just a myth, did you?" Katie looked genuinely amused. "There's a clitoral orgasm and there's a G-spot orgasm. They're supposed to introduce you to both."
"I've only had one session," Joanna said, flustered. "She was very thorough, but I didn't exactly feel like I was in a space where I was going to... you know."
"Ejaculate?"
"Katie." Joanna's cheeks were practically radiating heat. "Could you say it a little louder? I don't think the lifeguard heard you."
Katie just laughed, flipping her blonde hair over one shoulder. "Look. I'm not trying to embarrass you. I remember what it was like first year. I was a bundle of nerves, thinking the whole thing was some weird government plot to track my orgasms."
"It's not?"
"I mean, maybe it is. But why would you care if they are?" Katie reached out and squeezed Joanna's hand. "If someone's making you feel good, and you're walking out of there more relaxed and hitting the ball better than you have in your life, what does it matter what their motives are?"
Joanna stared at the ocean, at the endless roll of blue meeting the sky. "Because it matters."
"Does it?" Katie asked, soft and honest. "Or is it just your pride talking? You want to be in control. You hate feeling like someone else knows you better than you know yourself."
The accusation landed. Joanna had never been good with vulnerability. It felt like peeling back her skin and letting someone examine her insides. Rachel had been gentle, careful, almost clinical. But there was no denying that when Joanna had walked out of that Wellness Hub, she'd felt like a tightly wound spring had finally been released.
"I'll make you a deal," Katie said. "If Rachel doesn't bring you to that point within the next couple of sessions, I'll buy you dinner anywhere you want. The expensive kind, not the ramen we've been surviving on."
"And if she does?"
Katie's smile lit up her face. "Then you buy me dinner—and you admit that letting go isn't the worst thing in the world."
Joanna considered, feeling the sun on her shoulders, the scent of vanilla still rising from her skin. Maya had returned to the water, floating on her back, her body arcing like a dancer against the blue.
"Fine," she said, not quite believing the words. "Deal."
Katie clapped her hands together, triumphant. "Excellent. Now let's go swim. I want to critique your dolphin kick before practice tomorrow."
"You're a swim coach now?"
"I'm a woman of many talents." Katie was already on her feet. "Coming? I'll race you to the waves."
Joanna rose, shedding her towel. The coral bikini felt like armor now, or maybe like a second skin. She sprinted toward the water alongside Katie, their laughter swallowed by the roar of the surf. The cold struck her again, welcome and biting, pushing everything else away.
She dove under a wave, and for a moment she was weightless, suspended in the green-gold murk, the ocean's rhythm thrumming through her. When she surfaced, gasping and laughing, Katie was there, treading water, watching her with something that looked like pride.
"You're getting there, Swanson," Katie said. "Slowly, but you're getting there."
Joanna floated on her back, letting the current carry her. She thought about Rachel, about hands and vanilla and careful touches. She thought about the word squirt and the way Katie had said it so easily.
Perhaps she was getting there. Wherever "there" meant.