We looked suspicious. Not because we were buck naked, but because we were buck naked and not fitting in. Claire and I obtained day passes to Hedonism II while vacationing in Negril, Jamaica, and as we sank ourselves into the pool bar among a 100-or-less other nude vacationers, we didn't know what to do. I slammed a plastic cup of Red Stripe. Claire nervously downed a rum punch. Her large breasts bobbed above the water line, one nipple pointing at the bartender and the other toward the ocean 25 yards away. My dick floated and tipped at my underwater bar stool. So that we didn't look suspicious, or like a couple of staring and snickering teenagers at a school dance, or like a couple of writers looking for a story, we headed for the nearest group of people -- three guys and a woman in the southwest corner -- all over 45 and guzzling mixed drinks, laughing like cartoon hyenas right before their doom. Claire told them it was our first day. Eyes. Big Smiles. They pushed in closer.