Clothing Optional Jamaica: An Excerpt From "Unbridled"

What happens when a recently single woman heads to Jamaica and finds herself at a clothing optional resort? Barbara McNally's new book, "Unbridled," chronicles her journey from stifled, predictable housewife to independent and uninhibited living. EDGE offers our readers an exclusive excerpt from this steamy and revelatory memoir.

Shortly after my mom dropped the bomb about my dad's affair, I boarded a plane for Jamaica. The demise of my parents' marriage and that of my own left me wondering if traditional relationships were destined for failure. I set out to explore the unconventional. Hedo or bust.

I had never been a "clothing optional" kind of girl, but maybe I would be in Jamaica. I had missed a lot of sunsets and summer breezes in my life. I was tired of revisiting the past and worrying about the future. I wanted to live in the now: free, wild, and possibly naked.

Although the beach was clothing optional, the resort's swimming pools were segregated into two groups: nude and prude. While both pools had a swim-up bar, there was hardly anyone in the prude pool. The nude pool had more vitality, so I picked it. It's what Grandma Pat would have done-because of the people, not the nudity. I stripped off my bathing suit and dove in.

As I waited my turn at the swim-up bar, the man next to me ordered a front-end lifter, a drink made with ginger wine and Red Bull.

"Honey, don't you think he's hot?" he asked.

At first I thought he was talking to me, but a petite woman on the other side of him leaned in for a closer inspection before she answered. "Oh, definitely," she said. "He's very handsome."

"If you want to use him as a toy, go ahead. We'll both pleasure you," the man said to her, winking at me. I glanced at the ring on his finger, then at the one on hers.

"Don't you get jealous?" I asked the man.

"Oh, I don't own her," he answered. "She's my wife, not my possession."
"Yeah, but ..." I looked past him at his attractive spouse. Her wet hair was slicked back in a way that accentuated her high cheekbones and her almond-shaped eyes. "Isn't that a dangerous proposition, even if you approve?"

"What bonds us together is love and respect, not sexual exclusivity."

We were several minutes into our conversation when I realized I was talking to complete strangers about extramarital sex while sitting at a nude swim-up bar where the water only came up to my waist. My breasts were fully exposed. Was it the conversation with the two of them that helped me let go of my inhibitions or was it the alcohol?

"So, what brings you here?" the wife asked.

"I recently got a divorce, and when I heard my ex got remarried, I decided it was time for me to have some fun."

"Good for you," the woman said. "You should come to the toga party tonight. It will be great fun!"

Toga Party

I hadn't packed a toga in my suitcase, so I squeezed into the next best thing-a tiny white tank top and a white stretch miniskirt. Dressed in an outfit more age-appropriate for my daughters, I slipped on my sandals and left for the party. To make both nudes and prudes feel welcome, the party was billed as "Costume (or Clothing) Required."

"A Red Stripe, please," I said as I found a place at the bar inside the club. A few minutes later, two tall black women sat down next to me. When the DJ cranked up the music, the women, Alisha and Laticia, insisted that I learn to dance-Jamaican style.

"You have to do it like this," Alisha said as she rocked her hips in a nasty circle. She took my hands in hers and turned me around in a slow, gentle motion.

"See," Laticia said, imitating Alisha's movements. "Roll your hips like this. Nice and easy. Pretend like you're having sex."

I rotated the lower half of my body like a belly dancer, mimicking the moves they showed me. Buoyed by the beer, I ran my free hand up and down my body, relishing the sheer joy of its movement. I swirled my arms in the air, then swiveled my body, as if I were an exotic pole dancer. Laticia came up behind me while Alisha stood in front, and we ground around our little spot like a trio of sexy swingers. Laticia put her hands on my shoulders, and we began to sway together. I let my body shift into new positions, savoring the sensations. The music played on, and what was left of my inhibitions slid out of me into the puddle of spilled beer beneath my feet.

The music seemed to get louder and the space more crowded as the alcohol went to my head. I danced until I thought I'd melt from the heat of the bopping bodies. Before I knew it, fluorescent lights signaled the end of the party. Together, we walked barefoot back toward my room. My body ached with equal parts excitement and exhaustion. As we rounded the corner near my door, Alisha held my hand, kissed me softly on the cheek, and whispered in my ear, "Come swim in the nude pool with us, honey."

I wasn't drunk anymore, but I could barely keep my eyes open. "After I get some rest," I mumbled.

Unbridled: A Memoir by Barbara McNally

In addition to authoring "Unbridled," McNally is also the founder of Mother Lover Fighter Sage, a foundation inspired by her journey and dedicated to providing women with opportunities for growth and self-discovery. Learn more at unbridledfreedom.com.