A few months ago I had the most amazing experience. After spending last summer with my relatives in California and being on the beach almost every day playing volleyball and working out, when it was time to go home to get ready for my last semester in college, all I could think about was leaving that great weather and losing the tan I had worked so hard to get. I'd been home a couple of weeks when I decided it was time to try out a tanning shop near campus. One evening after class I put on my new bikini, under a sweatshirt and pants, and walked down to the tanning shop.

The woman at the counter was very friendly. She was about thirty, very attractive, and about five-foot-eight, with long red hair and nails and a beautiful tan. I couldn't help noticing that her ample breasts were straining against her T-shirt, and her nipples were clearly visible. Her name read "Sandrous," but she insisted that I call her Sandee. Sandee gave me a tour of the shop. Then we settled down in one of the tanning rooms. She said we had to figure out my skin type so I would know what setting to use on the tanning bed. When she asked me to remove my sweatshirt I hesitated for a moment. Sandee smiled and put her hand on my knee, saying, "It's okay, honey. I do this every day."

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I pulled my sweatshirt over my head and dropped it on the massage table. Sandi smiled and started to hold some photos up against me, one at a time. She told me about how careful people with sensitive skin have to be in a tanning bed. "Here, look at this one," she said, holding a photo of freckled skin next to her chest. I could see her own freckles as they disappeared into her cleavage. "Redheads like me can do only a couple minutes at a time." Finally, she had me narrowed down to two skin types. "Let's see your tan lines," she said. "That will help me figure this out." Slowly, I stood up and began to remove my sweatpants....