The woman 'manning' the campground's gate waved Ed Cade through after a glance at his event pass. He parked his bronze '84 Olds Eighty-eight where the shade of an oak tree would be during most of the afternoon and sat looking around the campground for a few moments.
There were about fifty tents of all sizes set up among the trees and about half that many cars in the zone roped off for parking. Another couple of cars entered the campground as he sipped the last of his coffee from his mug.
Although it was the first day of a three-day pagan festival, Cade didn't expect to see really large numbers of people until later in the afternoon and evening, when those who couldn't take Friday off would arrive.
The campground was part of a nudist resort, so as the day progressed, some of the attendees would bother with clothes and some wouldn't. Because such events were the only times a lot of them got naked or nearly so, many would wind up seeking relief from sunburns in sensitive regions.
Saturday would be like a '60's hippie-convention, replete with longhairs and bright, flowing clothing when any clothing was worn at all, lots of beads and odd and gaudy jewelry, and bare feet or sandals.
A few tents had been erected over some of the spaces along 'dealer's row'. Some of the tents still glistened with early morning dew, indicating that they'd been put up the night before. Other tents and fly-tarps were going up as he watched.
Two women--one blonde, one brunette--were arranging items on a folding table in the second 'booth' from the beginning of the row. Both were wearing cutoff jeans, but while the brunette wore a tee-shirt, the blonde wore what looked to be a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled above her elbows.
The brunette said something, pointed at a section of table, and picked up two apparently empty boxes, then carried them to a brown Dodge van in the row of spaces behind Cade's car.
Oops. He'd been fooled by long hair and distance. The brunette now appeared to be a skinny little guy, but something was wrong with the overall picture.
Hm. No hair on his arms or legs, thin-line eyebrows, and he didn't walk with a confident stride; he took quick little steps and hip-slipped around the post that marked the end of the parking lot, waving effeminately and smiling at Cade as he moved toward one of the cars.
Nodding in return, Cade let his eyes return to the blonde, who had continued setting up the display. She straightened, stood with hands on hips, scanned the table thoughtfully, and nodded slightly as if satisfied.
She then stretched--rather gloriously, Cade thought--and looked around the encampment and the parking lot. Hm, again. The blonde was undeniably female, judging by the way she filled the upper front of her shirt.
Unless, of course, she wasn't, Cade amended.
That was always a possibility in these days of gender confusion and silicone implants, and her little friend was pretty obviously gay.
Cade had once met a guy with store-bought boobs. A car had died in the middle of a downtown Tampa street at rush hour. Cade had parked his car and gone to help push the disabled car out of traffic.
As Cade approached, he saw that the driver was a slim brunette woman and he was more than a little surprised to see her get out to push against the driver's door, steering the car toward the curb while traffic was stopped for a red light.
He added his strength to hers by pushing against the trunk and the surprised woman turned to look back briefly and say, "Thanks!" as the car surged forward at a quicker pace.
She wore a frilly blouse and way too much makeup. He'd seen her dark skirt and low-heeled pumps as he'd approached; her outfit kind of reminded Cade of the woman who managed his bank.
When the car finally stopped on a side street, the woman pantingly slumped into the front seat and muttered something profane about her luck as she brushed off her skirt, then she reached for a cell phone and dialed.
After resting a moment to catch his breath, Cade had walked around the car to see if she had some kind of plan to deal with her situation.
She'd loosened her blouse so she could pat herself dry with a wad of kleenex, and Cade could see her hefty boobs bobbling back and forth as she alternated between dialing and patting.