My rendevous with the tram car girl

A glitzed-up version of the white Paradise Lakes tram car runs in Wildwood, N.J.
Quite often, the best sexual experiences aren't the ones you seek but the ones you find.
I did not seek, but found a terrific one during what I would call as the "Golden Era" of the Paradise Lakes Nudist Resort in Tampa, Fla.
I call it the Golden Era because that's what it really was.
Paradise was all its name implied it would be _ a lush tropical Paradise for nudists in the motif of the Garden of Eden, only this time with all of the modern amenities.
The date was the spring of 1993 and Paradise was just transforming from the end of its Golden Era into the one it has now.
Don't get me wrong. Paradise is still one of my favorite places, if not most favorite, in the whole wide world.
It's just that it's not what it used to be.
It was more raw, more naked, then. People were naked morning, noon and night back then.
The nightclub was mostly naked and, on really hot nights, 75 percent naked.
The owner then, Fred Bishoff, often took the microphone and said, "Free drinks to anyone who gets naked."
People stripped and stayed stripped.
It's just not the same anymore.
Now when you go to the nightclub naked, people are almost as shocked as if you went to a Catholic Church naked.
That's not the way God intended Paradise to be.
Along with the nakedness, in the Golden Era of the "old section" everything was right there.
You walked 10 feet from your room to the pool.
You walked 10 more feet from the pool to the nightclub.
With drinks in hand, you could move the post-nightclub party to the hot tub, which was covered.
Everybody had a blast.
It's not quite the same any more.
Yet change came because the place grew and, with that growth, came the advent of the tram car.
The management used the tram car _ really a glorified golf cart _ to transport people from the old section to the new section.
I stubbornly clung to the old section with loyalty normally reserved for a first car, but the "action" was in the new Club Paradise so I hopped aboard the tram car and made my way there at night.
Naked, as usual.
During my seven days or so, I struck up a conversation with a beautiful young female driver of the car.
We talked, we laughed, we hit it off.
I knew she was beautiful, but she was also an employee so I thought there might have been some fraternization rules so I did not pursue her. She also was never naked, as far as I could see.
One night I went back to my room, which was in the B building, which is the old area.
I decided to get a whirlpool before bed.
It was about midnight and there was nobody in the jacuzzi except me.
Until the tram girl walked in, stripped her clothes and said, "Mike, mind if I join you?"
"Please do."
Me pushing 30 and her around 19, I was flattered by her attention.
We talked some more, laughed some more, talked about our futures, told some stories.
Since I am about the worst guy at interpreting sexual signals from women (girls, you practically have to hit me over the head, unfortunately), I had no idea she was interested in that way.
Until she hit me over the head _ in the figurative sense, at least.
"Mike, you are giving me the best mind-fuck I've ever had," she said.
I was blown away and somewhat taken aback.
It's usually in these kind of times Mike Jr. takes over and does the speaking for me.
"Why does it have to stop at the mind?" I said.
I floated over, moved my naked body against hers and kissed her.
She kissed me hard back.
We moved the 10 feet to my room and the mind fuck became a full body and mind fuck. I licked her pussy like it was my last meal.
In many ways, it was _ at least there in the old section before the resort went from full nudist to shockingly textile.
She said it was her best sexual experience ever.
I hope it was. It was good for me, too.
In three days, I was gone but the affair with the tram girl was one that I'll remember forever. She came up and visited me that summer at an unnamed nudist resort in the traditional Northeast, but alas had to go back to Florida.
I'll never forget my final taste of vacation in the old section before gravitating to the club. Soon, the tram car would be forgotten but never the tram car girl. The taste of Paradise has been good since, but never quite as sweet as it was on that night.