by Ben Boswell
“Well, we didn’t need to.”
“Right, but that’s the thing, isn’t it? We didn’t just get married. We sort of committed to the next step.”
I knew what she meant. “We don’t have to have kids right away.”
“No, we don’t. But we’re going to, right? I’m turning thirty in a few months. We’re stable financially. And well, it makes sense.”
I nodded. She was right. Getting married was less about cementing our relationship and more about preparing for the big transition. Kids, moving out of the city to a house with a yard and better schools. Going from being carefree young adults to, gasp, parents. It was making us both a little wacky.
“So, what?” I asked. “This is like a last fling rather than a real honeymoon?”
She laughed. “A real honeymoon? You mean candlelit dinners, long walks on the beach, making love under the covers?”
“It would be more traditional than, I dunno, fucking strangers.”
“Or spying on them,” she added with a grin.
“Touché.”
There was a lull in the conversation. Then Claire spoke, “Look, I’ve had more adventures this trip than I could have imagined. But…”
She trailed off. But? What did that mean? Did that mean that she wasn’t done yet? That she wanted the second half of our honeymoon to be like the first? And then I realized.
“Claire. I don’t really, fully, understand all of this. But, as far as I’m concerned, the old saying holds, what happens in Hawaii stays in Hawaii.”
“John?”
“I just mean, I don’t want this to be something we throw out at each other when the going gets tough. I don’t call you a slut, you don’t call me a creepy perv.”
“Except as a compliment, of course.”
“Of course.”
I’d like to say we went to bed and made love like sea otters, but we didn’t. When we finally got under the covers, we just kissed, cuddled a moment, and then both dropped off into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
We’d gone to bed early, but we nevertheless slept late. By the time we called room service, they asked us if we wanted to order off the lunch or breakfast menu. We both chose the latter.
It was a beautiful day. The smell of the Kona coffee was invigorating, the fresh pineapple slices divine. We lazed about, then slowly changed into our swim suits and headed out for the beach.
As we walked toward the shore, I glanced over at the grove where the bonfire had been. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Claire do the same. I knew that she, like me, couldn’t help but think of what had transpired there. I chuckled to myself. I must have been quite a sight, at one point surrounded on both sides by couples going at it.
We strolled on the beach, dipping our feet in the water. I noticed Fire Eater working his day job hauling lounge chairs onto the sand. I wondered how often he managed to score with a guest. Was it something he’d remember? Or was Annabelle just Blonde Bimbo Number 361?
We looped back to the sloped, salt-water pool, the lagoon. We found a couple of chairs and draped our towels over them. Claire pulled her mystery novel from her bag.
“I’m definitely going to finish this today,” she chirped. “No distractions.”
“I’m gonna take a dip.”
I strode into the water. The front half of the lagoon was designed as a gently sloping beach, giving folks the opportunity to sun themselves and lie in the water simultaneously. The back half disappeared into a series of artificial, but realistic, grottos and caves. There was a hot tub back there, and as I approached, I noticed a couple in the roiling water. I hadn’t seen them before; I surely would have noticed them otherwise, or at least her. She was a tall and busty redhead, her wet hair draped down her back like a scarlet cape. I could see her profile, her full red lips, the slightly almond shape of her eyes. A real beauty. Her man was not in the same league. Average build, a little pasty, kind face.
There was a real chemistry between them, though. Their fingers were intertwined on both hands, and they were kissing lightly and giggling together. Even though I’d spied on four separate couples having sex over the past few days, this felt more intimate and my presence an even bigger violation.
I backed away quietly. But, I couldn’t help but wonder how he kept her. A woman like that must be constantly propositioned by men, at least a few, like Trent, who would actually know how to flirt properly. Did she cheat on him? Was he willing to accept it? I imagined her coming home from a date with another man, describing every detail to him: the other man’s clothes, his after-shave, the make of his car, the thread count of his sheets, the feel of his cock as it entered her. Was that their game? Was that how they dealt with her intoxicating looks? By converting it from an omnipresent threat to a source of excitement, however twisted.
I didn’t know if I could live like that, but it was a testament to how weird the last few days had been that I was considering it. It was probably all crazy. We’d get out of this place, this lulling, tempting paradise and go back to our normal lives. Or would we?
I swam back out into the open part of the lagoon. There was Claire, engrossed in her book. She had a Mai Tai at her side, and one for me as well. I made my way in her direction. Then, as I got out of the water, I saw something that made me freeze.
Standing by the lagoon bar was Trent… and he was talking to the distaff half of the Newlyweds, Janelle. She was wearing jeans shorts, not tight-cut designer shorts, not sexy and trashy Daisy Dukes. No, they were the Mom Jean equivalent, with a high waist and a baggy bottom. She was also wearing checkered red and white shirt; not ironically draped over a bikini, and not sexily tied just below her breasts to show off her belly, but rather buttoned down and tucked into her shorts. And yet she still exuded this weird, primal sexuality, and Trent, that bastard had honed in on it.
I searched around for her husband, Dale. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave her alone, would he? I sighed. He was precisely stupid enough. He probably didn’t even have the excuse of being sick. I wasn’t being fair. He was a naïf. It wouldn’t occur to him there was a danger.
I sat down beside Claire, draining half my Mai Tai in one long pull, glaring at Trent and Janelle, seething. For some reason, just seeing him with her made me furious. I wasn’t feeling warm and fuzzy toward Trent anyway, but that didn’t account for the level of my annoyance. Seeing him with Elsa had been almost satisfying. It showed that Claire hadn’t just been out to cheat on me. She’d been seduced by a seasoned pro. And I imagined seeing him with Annabelle would be hot, the two of them trying to outfuck the other.
But Janelle… She was a guileless kid. An avatar of sensuality, but still, like her husband, an innocent in the big city. She didn’t deserve to become just another notch on Trent’s belt. And I knew he’d intuit her naïveté and her hunger. It wouldn’t be enough for him to make love to her. No, he’d want to despoil her and corrupt her. By the time he returned her to Dale, she’d be changed, a chasm between them.
I finished my drink and elbowed Claire in the shoulder.
“Check out your boyfr… I mean Trent.”
She put down her book and scanned around. She laughed. “Oh boy, he is relentless. Where’d he find that one? Touring road show of Oklahoma!?”
“Be nice. Anyway, that was set in like the 1800s. She looks like she stepped out of the 1970s.”
“You’re right. My mom totally had that hair when I was a kid. Well, a brunette version.”
“She doesn’t seem like his type.”
“What’s his type?” Claire asked, curious.
“You know. He seems to go for more sophisticated women.”
“You mean older?” she said with a laugh. “Gee thanks, John. Nice to know I’ve graduated to being a MILF without even having kids yet. Anyway, Annabelle doesn’t fit that mold. I think his type is… female. Though as horny as he is, I wouldn’t put it past him to do it with a man in a pinch.”
She picked her book back up. I coul
dn’t take my eyes from Trent and Janelle. God, she was hanging on his every word. Handsome, older, exotic foreigner, he was probably different than anyone she’d ever met. It almost wasn’t fair, like shooting fish in a barrel.
“We should do something,” I exclaimed.
“Huh?” Claire replied, still buried in her book.
“About Trent. I’m pretty sure she’s married. I saw her with a young man earlier.”
Claire snorted. “I’m married. So is Elsa.”
“We still should do something.”
She slapped her book against her thigh. “What do you want to do?”
“I dunno. Get him away from her.”
“I don’t think…” she paused. “John, what is this about?”
“It’s just, you know, she seems like a nice young girl and –“
“You don’t even know her.”
“No, but –“
“Is this… is this something you want?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you do seem to get a kick out of watching. I mean, you got totally wound up describing him with Elsa. And well, you were a little out of it the other night. Is this about wanting to watch me with him?”
I stared at her in shock. She wouldn’t have suggested it unless that was something she wanted to do as well.
“Is that what you want?”
She tilted her head slightly. “I’m not pining for him, or anything. But, on the other hand, if you wanted to watch, I’d be, um, willing to put on show.” She hesitated. “If that’s what you wanted,” she added hastily.
It wasn’t what I wanted. Or at least I didn’t think it was. The thought of my wife melting under his experienced touch was both painful and weirdly erotic. They would surely put on a good show, especially if they knew I was watching. But that wasn’t the point. I looked back over at Trent and Janelle. He seemed to be explaining something, placing his hand on her forearm for emphasis. She didn’t pull away. I had to do something. I couldn’t let him have his way with her.
I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak.
“Okay, well I’ll text him, and maybe we can arrange something for –“
A wave of panic went through me. No, it had to be now. Janelle was already wilting under his attention. Another hour or two and she’d be in his bed, naked, looking up at him between her spread legs as he prepared to take her.
“No, now,” I choked out.
Claire gave me a surprised and amused look. “We can’t really interrupt –“
“Sure, we can. No time like the present. And anyway, who knows how long our nerve will hold.”
She gave me a small smirk that signaled that as far as Trent was concerned, her nerve would never flag.
Just then, Janelle rose and walked a little unsteadily to the bathroom. Since I doubted she was drinking, I realized she was wobbly with anxiety and maybe anticipation. I could imagine her state of mind. Good girl, pastor’s daughter or something, virgin on her wedding night, she’d been struggling with her feelings for three days as her new husband was unable to bring her to that place that she could sense, organically, was so close.
She’d probably fantasized for years about her wedding night, shamefully, in the dark, trying to suppress the desires coursing through her nubile body. She’d been ready to lose herself in passion at her husband’s touch. But she’d married a boy. And while he might one day learn to handle her the way she longed to be handled, for now it was just a source of frustration. But this man, this handsome, foreign stranger…. She could see it in his eyes, in his demeanor, that he could meet all her needs and then some.
The trip to the bathroom was less to relieve herself and more to steel herself for the next step. I imaged her locking herself in the stall, touching herself, shocked and embarrassed by her excitement. It was all just in good fun, she’d tell herself. Nothing was really going to happen. There was nothing wrong with having a conversation with an oh-so-handsome man. And if he asked her to walk with him, there was nothing wrong with that either. He’d mentioned his suite. It would be interesting to see the view from there. All very innocent.
Janelle walked around the bar and out of sight. I poked at Claire.
“Now!”
She looked at me wide-eyed, surprised at my apparent impatience.
“You sure you want this?”
I forced myself to respond deliberately. “Yeah. It’ll be fun.”
“I know it will be for me. You sure it will for you?”
I nodded. “Come on, go before she gets back.”
Claire shook her head. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
She stood and strode in his direction. Man, she had a great ass. Was that an extra little swivel in her step? How could I even think of sharing her… again?
Trent gave her a wan smile when he saw her approach and cast an anxious glance to where Janelle had disappeared. The last thing he wanted was a scene with a previous conquest when he was getting close on a new one. As Claire spoke, an intrigued look crossed his face. He glanced over at me and grinned while shaking his head in amusement. I saw him look again toward the bathroom.
I could almost see the gears turning as he considered the situation. I knew he’d be weighing the “bird in the hand” of my wife’s offer against the “two in the bush” of the possibility of pillaging Janelle’s innocence. I was pretty sure the kink of fucking my wife in front of me would win out. And anyway, rejecting Claire entailed the risk of making a scene, while accepting her offer left open the option of a graceful exit and the possibility of meeting up with Janelle later.
Sure enough, his smile widened as he spoke to Claire. He stood and glanced at me, then pulled my wife into a quick but passionate embrace, his hand casually sliding into her bikini bottom to give her ass a quick squeeze. Claire shot a quick gaze in my direction to assess my response. She grinned at my expression before returning her attention to him.
He broke from my wife, and walked toward Janelle as she reappeared from the bathroom. They spoke for a moment. She nodded and seemed to force a smile. I could see a gamut of emotions play out across her face: surprise, disappointment, relief, and then embarrassment as she realized, finally, that he was dismissing her. She gave him a small wave, as if apologizing for having wasted his time, and then turned and scurried away.
When Janelle was out of sight, Trent turned and smiled broadly. He approached my wife confidently and grabbed her around the waist. They walked toward me with his hand resting possessively on her hip.
“John, old chap, you and your much better half are having far too much success in piquing my interest.”
“We don’t have to monopolize your time if you have better things to do,” I replied.
He seemed to ponder the range of possible responses.
“No need for cold feet,” he answered as he resumed walking Claire toward the hotel. “I assure you, you will enjoy this. And Claire and I, of course, will absolutely savor it.”
I felt like a third wheel as I walked beside them.
“There’s a line between confidence and arrogance,” I snapped.
“And on which side of the line am I treading?” he asked.
Claire interrupted us by sliding an arm around each of our waists, pulling us close, sandwiching herself between our bodies. “Boys, boys, you two should spend less time bickering and more time thinking of how to praise me. I don’t intend to make it easy on either of you.”
“Oh, how I do love a challenge,” Trent replied smoothly.
“Yeah, me too,” I sighed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
As we walked into the hotel lobby, Claire released us both, and we walked to the room separately maintaining a small modicum of dignity. I wasn’t quite sure what the plan would be once we got there. My mind was reeling as I considered the situation. It’s weird, but the moment Janelle walked away, the urgency of the situation receded, and the absurdity of it became manifest. And yet, the butterflies in my stomach were not just apprehension
. There was also some weird, embarrassing excitement mixed in.
Once in the room, Claire, surprisingly took control. She directed Trent to call room service. He followed her instructions and ordered two bottles of champagne and a fruit platter. Then she sat me down in the armchair by the balcony. She leaned over me, her breath surprisingly hot in my ear.
“Okay, this is your show, Mr. Director,” she whispered. Then loud enough for Trent to hear, “Tell us what to do, and we’ll do anything you say.”
I could see that this took him a little by surprise. He was expecting to be calling the shots. But he took it with aplomb. He composed his handsome features into a serene smile and sat down on the bed. He looked from me to Claire and back again in anticipation.
I was at a loss for how to proceed.
“Maybe I should take this off to break the ice?” Claire suggested, gesturing at her bikini.
I nodded mutely.
She reached behind her and quickly untied her bikini top. She pulled it over her head and tossed it in my lap, exposing her high, pert breasts. Her nipples were already hard with excitement, her areola darker and more prominent than usual. Trent smiled approvingly.
She made a show of removing her bottoms. She moved closer to me and gestured at the knot on her left hip. I reached out and seized the end. She edged away and the knot slipped open. She held her bikini up with her hand. She walked over to Trent and repeated the process with him. He pulled at the thread more decisively than I had. She released her grip and her bottoms came off in his hand.
For some reason, I couldn’t take my eyes off her bikini bottoms dangling from his fingertips. In part, I guess it was a way to avoid looking at my wife’s naked body, now on display for another man.
“Delightful, did you do that just for me?” he asked.
It took both Claire and me a moment to realize what he was talking about. Then I noticed it. Where yesterday she’d sported a neatly trimmed triangle of public hair, she was now completely bare. I stared in shock at her smooth white skin, her tight little slit betraying just a hint of her excitement.
