The vacation wife, p.25
The Vacation Wife, page 25
It was a nice atmosphere all around.
With some minor fuss, we arranged ourselves so could all sit in the cabana and face each other. It was taking some effort for my mind to get a grip on Susan’s naked breasts being so close to Harold, who seemed entirely cool. Meg, wearing a sexy two-piece, left her top on. Of course, I was eager for her to take it off, proving I was at heart still a young teenage boy with a surfeit of hormones. As it was, she looked very sexy in her two-piece. She was smaller busted than Marci and Susan, and though several years older, looked just as firm of flesh.
The women fell into a discussion about a shop in town Meg had taken a fancy to, and from there it drifted into their preferred boutiques back home. I was mesmerized by the jiggling naked breasts and immense suspense of waiting for Meg to remove her top.
Harold and I listened as we sipped our daiquiris, both content for the lovely company and our general good fortune. As our second pitcher neared empty, I noted Chloe had shifted to beach duty and caught her attention. Unlike the other female attendant, Chloe was now topless and wearing tiny suit bottoms, having possibly realized this combination could augment tips. Her breasts were very small but intriguing nonetheless.
When she reached our cabana she managed a warm smile. Susan ordered another pitcher. I knew I needed to pace myself so I ordered a Coke. Chloe nodded and retreated, giving me a view of her bikini bottom from behind. It comprised no more than several square inches of fabric.
“Jesus, get a room!” whispered Marci, noting my momentary obsession. Fortunately, she laughed.
I wasn’t attracted to Chloe, at least not to her personally. But generally speaking, I couldn’t deny my attraction to women, Chloe included, but purely as a sample form. This attraction wasn’t an option. I didn’t select it—it was an essential part of nature’s plan. When God designed Eve, he was right on the money, and this attraction informed the energy that populated the planet.
For me, only two women held the key to releasing that energy—Susan and Marci. Could Meg possibly hold the key too? I didn’t know, and the fact that I didn’t know troubled me. I didn’t even know why that question came to mind. I liked Meg well enough, but I had never wondered about her sexually. Now, I faced the prospect of seeing her topless, and this prospect filled me with a warming anticipation despite my best efforts to ignore it.
Chapter 28: This Is Fun
ADULTS AT PLAY
“Hey everybody, let’s swim!” said Marci, during a lull in their conversation.
“I’m not ready yet,” said Susan. “Ryan will go with you. He loves to swim.”
“I’ll stay with Susan,” said Meg. “You boys can go.”
Boys?
Harold seemed agreeable to the idea, and I knew it would help clear my mind of residual fumes from the prior night’s drinking as well as the current day’s consumption. Marci sat up on her knees.
“What do you think?” she asked of no one particular. “Can I go like this?” She was referring to her naked breasts.
“Other women are walking around topless,” said Susan. “So is our waitress.”
“Gosh,” said Meg. “You two are topless! I didn’t even notice!” She untied her top and tossed it at Harold. “You don’t mind, do you Harold?”
I now felt like sticking around.
“Not at all,” said Harold. He removed his T-shirt, revealing an admirably trim and taut physique. I removed mine as well, which meant we were all now topless. Meg’s breasts were surprisingly pert and I had trouble not looking at them.
“You’ll need your sandals,” said Marci. “The sand is hot as fuck.”
Harold and I followed Marci to the water and we all dove in. It felt wonderful, and I was instantly revived. Marci went under for a long time before surfacing like a graceful dolphin, the water streaming beautifully over her lovely breasts. She gave me a soulful kiss then laughed.
“This feels funny around your friend here.” She smiled at Harold. “You don’t mind, do you, Harold?”
“Not at all.”
“It’s too bad Emily left for the day,” she said. “It sounded like you two had fun last night.”
“Marci,” I said. “I’m not sure that’s the right thing to say.”
Harold smiled but didn’t respond.
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I knew what you meant,” said Harold. “It was an astute observation. Anyway, Meg and I are happy spending time with you all. I’m not sure that would have happened with Gail and Emily still around.”
I couldn’t disagree. If Emily and Gail had remained, it would be even weirder than it already was, plus we would have exceeded the cabana’s capacity. Still missing from our party was Greg. Susan said he would be joining us later.
As for Gail and Emily, I knew I wasn’t interested in an orgy, and their absence mitigated that possibility. For the balance of the day, these were the known knowns: I was with Marci, Susan with Greg, and Harold with his wife. That wouldn’t change until Gail and Emily returned the next day. In the meantime, would Harold and Meg feel put out, being the only real couple still sleeping with each other?
I wondered if that fact would somehow shift the day’s dynamics, and the wonder led to imagining several scenarios, none of which appeared inconceivable. I pictured Harold with Susan and Marci, and it intrigued me in a most beguiling way.
“Let’s walk the beach,” said Marci, after we’d tread water for all of five minutes. “I love doing that.”
We followed her out of the water.
“Let’s go that way,” she said, pointing north. “We went the other way before.”
“It looks the same both ways,” I said.
“Then it doesn’t matter.” I was sure I would see the logic in that comment at some later point. Marci got between us as we started our walk. Her being topless in public along with this mobility was beginning to excite me. Fortunately, my trunks had built in support and were generously cut. A Speedo would have been disastrous.
“So, Harold,” she said. “How do you like being with a younger woman?”
“Marci, really,” I said.
“You mean Emily,” he said. “It’s okay, Ryan. I see her point. She’s maybe twelve years younger than myself. I’d never thought of it that way.”
“Does Meg let you sleep with anybody?”
Harold laughed. “No. It’s not like that.”
Marci’s prying was putting me on edge, not that I wasn’t interested in her questions. For his part, Harold kept pretty tight lipped which didn’t surprise me. He wasn’t the type to boast or highlight his ability to “bang young chicks”. In this regard, both Harold and I were unlike most men I knew, including many in our own firm.
Marci’s swinging breasts, which could not possibly be overemphasized, were now driving me nuts. She was nearly naked and talking to one of my closest friends in broad daylight. I struggled not with these plain facts, but with the idea she was permitting Harold to see her this way. Somehow, it seemed unbalanced, but then I remembered Meg had removed her top and settled down.
“You haven’t met Greg yet,” said Marci, for no reason in particular.
“No.”
“He’s nice. Ryan likes him.”
“I’m sure he does. This sort of thing wouldn’t work if you didn’t all like and respect each other.”
“You mean the screwing around?” asked Marci.
“That’s not how I look at it,” said Harold. “None of us is looking around hoping to get laid. Meg and I both really like Gail and Emily. There’s a relationship there aside from what goes on in the bedroom. We enjoy spending time together.”
We passed two teenage boys fishing in the surf. Marci gave them a bright Hola and smiled. Had I been one of these boys I would have thought I’d won the lottery.
“That felt weird,” said Marci, after a few more paces. “I forgot my tits were out.”
That was a reasonable response, in that she felt it may have been inappropriate. Had Harold and I been naked passing two teenage girls, I would have felt creepy. I pointed this out.
“If they had been girls and Harold and I were naked, I’d feel the same.”
“You guys would be okay,” said Marci. “I would have been happy to see you guys naked.”
“You mean, before we were arrested… Maybe we should turn around. I think we’re nearing the public beaches. The hotel’s beach is restricted.”
Marci crossed her arms over her breasts as we passed the boys on our return. They didn’t seem interested in us either way.
“Ah, this feels better anyway,” she said. “It’s not that comfortable walking around with loose big tits.”
“I can imagine.”
“Can you really? Here, stand behind me and hold them up.” She stood still, and I did as instructed, accidentally pressing my otherwise stealthy erection into her bottom.
“Whoa, what is that?” she said, laughing. I let go of her breasts. They were heavy when held that way, and I could imagine the strain. “Oh, don’t let go!”
“It makes walking difficult,” I said.
“I’m sure Harold wouldn't mind holding them, would you, Harold?”
He laughed and Marci recrossed her arms. The idea of Harold holding Marci’s breasts put my mind in a tizzy.
As we regained the cabana Susan was receiving a back massage from Meg, who was sitting low on her rump. She had pulled Susan’s suit halfway down her buttcrack, which struck me as peculiarly erotic. We sat around them just as Chloe reprised her role as a waitress. It startled me anew to see her topless.
“Another round?” she asked. If I wasn’t mistaken, she was still entirely sober.
“Hey!” said Marci. “Let’s get champagne! Doesn’t that sound really decadent?”
“On the beach?” asked Susan, lifting herself onto her elbows. Her breasts dangled beneath her in a flirty way and I could see a nipple was perky and taut, something I wouldn’t have expected in this heat. What sort of massage was Meg giving her?
“Why not?” asked Harold. “We’re on vacation, aren’t we?”
“Chloe,” I said. “Do you even have champagne out here?”
“We have Cristal and Dom Perignon, but Americans never order those.”
I thought there might be more to that sentence, but she proved me wrong. “Well, what do Americans order?”
“We have a Napa Brut for $40.”
“And how much are those other two?” asked Harold.
“$259, either one.”
Harold turned to me. “Ryan, where are we on that litigation with Foster & Oswald?”
“The last I heard Ben was ready to file any day now.”
“Good. That concludes our business. We can write this off. Chloe, bring us two bottles each of Cristal and Dom Perignon.”
Chloe gave us what I often referred to as a “Millennial Shrug” and left.
“Aren’t ethically grey areas fun!” said Marci.
“Harold, you can’t do that,” said Meg.
“What? It’s a legitimate deduction if we discuss business.”
No one else chimed in so we let the order stand. Peterson, Joffrees & Bauch would pay for the champagne. I didn’t mention that the $4000 bid paying for our trip and already slipped into the company’s records as a charity donation.
“Now me you,” said Susan, referring to the afternoon massage session. She got on her knees while Meg laid down to receive her massage. Susan pulled Meg’s bottoms to half-mast and dribbled oil up and down her back, then sat on her rump. Susan’s suit remained as before, also at half-mast. All of our eyes were naturally drawn to the action. Only when Meg began to moan did we feel we should shift our attention elsewhere.
“Me next!” said Marci. As we didn’t have backgammon. and no one had thought to bring along a chess set, massages were the next best thing.
Four fully dressed waiters from the hotel dining room appeared, each holding a bucket with an attached stand. Our champagne had arrived. Chloe appeared with a tray holding five champagne flutes and the drinks were served, thus halting the massage. It truly did feel decadent to be sitting in a beach cabana in Mexico drinking expensive champagne with three topless women.
“Fuck that’s good,” said Marci. Normally, she wasn’t so prolific with the “fucks”, but in this case, it was the just word for emphasis. The champagne was delectable.
Meg and Susan were now sitting next to each other, and Meg’s hand was resting on Susan’s thigh, gently stroking it. Perhaps they’d formed a bond through their massages. Marci was leaning against me, her bare breast rubbing my arm as she moved. I had one knee bent over the canopy bed and one stretched to the sand beneath. If her nipples could be judged reliably, the champagne was making Marci amorous. She kissed my cheek and clinked my glass, then kissed me on the lips. We disappeared into our own little world for a moment, then rejoined the group.
Harold was off by himself but seemed intrigue by his wife’s interactions with Susan, which were becoming chummier. I didn’t know what to think of that, and as no one said, “Hey! What’s going on here?” I felt no need to worry about it.
The three of them were chatting about European health spas. Meg described her first experiences with coed saunas, and Susan chimed in several times with “I know”, showing she could empathize with Meg’s anecdotes. It was a light, first-world chat. At no point did they slip into their concerns over North Korea or refugees drowning in the Mediterranean.
As Harold tipped the third bottle of champagne upside down into its bucket, Greg arrived. Susan jumped up to give him a warm, topless embrace, Harold stood to shake his hand, and Meg beamed her approval, her eyes taking a quick and appreciative inventory. Greg sat next to Susan and Meg shifted to lean into Harold’s lap. Chloe arrived with a fresh glass for Greg, and Harold poured from the last bottle of champagne, then requested two more from Chloe.
Greg filled us in on his AC repairs, stating all was well back at the condo, and Susan applauded his handiness.
“Oh, it was so hot, really. We couldn’t wear any clothes.”
This led to Marci’s account of Greg the superhero at the cantina where the bloke fondled her boobs. I felt she was embellishing the whole thing but didn’t mind. Had I not been in the restroom I could have been the hero. Some things were simply a question of timing.
“I could really use a swim,” said Greg.
“Me too!” said Susan. “Meg? You haven’t been yet.”
“Okay!” The three of them headed for the water. Marci took this as an opportunity to stretch out when she realized she still wanted her massage. She tossed me the bottle of lotion Meg and Susan had been using and laid on her tummy. I understood what she was aiming for, sat on her rump, and dribbled oil up and down her spine without warming it up.
“That’s cold!”
“Nonsense. It’s room temperature. It’s ninety-degrees.”
She moaned her approval once I commence kneading her back.
“Harold,” she said. “You can do my legs!”
I wasn’t expecting this. Perhaps she worried Harold might feel left out. He didn’t protest. He situated himself alongside Marci’s lower half, picked up the lotion, and rubbed a fair amount between his palms to warm it up, thus highlighting my prior failure to do so.
I couldn’t actually see what he was doing. I kept working Marci’s back, neck, and sides, but when she moaned once more, I wasn’t sure which of us she was responding to. Harold or me?
I loved Marci’s long legs and was suddenly feeling possessive, but, of course, I didn’t want to switch. I was sitting on her bottom and had control of her upper half. Harold had only her legs. Just as I consoled myself with this outlook, I felt Harold’s hand reaching into the upper reaches of Marci’s thighs, encroaching on their terminus.
Marci moaned afresh and this time it sounded deeper and more intimate. Though this confounded me, I was also excited in that now familiar and beguiling way. Did she want to have Harold’s hands on the upper reaches of her thighs? Was she hoping he would perform a meet and greet where they met? Or was she simply responding to the massage, meaning generically?
“That was great!” she said, summarily ending the posterior portion of her massage. She lifted her torso, twisted and gave my knee a tap. “Let me turn over.” I gave her room to maneuver and she laid on her back mimicking Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. I wasn’t sure what she was expecting. I didn’t think a breast massage was on the table, so to speak. We were surrounded by people who might view such a thing as inappropriate. Even I was on the fence.
