Chapter 25 - Active Influence
I hopped up from the love-seat in my cabana and headed down the little grassy hill and just a hundred feet to the sidewalk by the sand. Yeah, this was exciting. I was on a hunt. And I was planning something that, in my right mind, I would never have done in the past. In the past, this would have been unthinkable in several respects. This was going to be fun.
I was excited, but relaxed now. I had something to occupy me. A wicked scheme. A bold, courageous, nonsense.
I said in the ear-fish, “Car, do you have the girls sizes and measurements? I think that I was told that you were supposed to get those, somehow.”
Car had what I needed and I asked for the pertinent information. I didn’t need to commit it to memory; Car could remind me when I needed it.
Walking down the sidewalk, I was amazed again at how few people were here right now. This was a slow time in Kauai, but this was slower than I’d ever seen it. I liked it. It was so quiet and peaceful.
Sure enough, there were a dozen vendor tables set up at the little shopping center, just like I’d expected. There was about an hour left until they packed up for the day.
The tables were filled with handmade jewelry and trinkets. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, anklets, wood carvings, bookmarks, coasters, Hawaiian print dresses and shirts, colorful potholders, and things like that. Little things that all cost less than 20 bucks. Most of the jewelry was incredibly inexpensive. Often a necklace for ten bucks or three for 20. They were made from shells, nuts, and polished stones, usually with leather or some other cord instead of silver or gold chains. This was little keepsake stuff, not fine jewelry.
Several of the vendors had different specialties. At one table, I bought four necklaces with wooden beads and polished shells. None of the four were the same. I bought two bracelets and two anklets from the same woman. At another table, I did the same, but these had polished stones and sea glass. And I bought several pair of earrings. Farther along, I bought three large necklaces that the woman assured me would be long enough to be worn as belly chains around the girls’ waists. And I bought more of the same kind of things from a woman that made her jewelry from wood, burned and painted colorfully. I had about 20 to 25 pieces by the time I was done. Except that then I went back for another look and picked a few more, including some toe rings.
I felt good about what I’d bought. And it was cheap. I wasn’t trying to prove my love by how much I spent. I wasn’t trying to prove anything. Well, maybe I was proving something to myself.
I would never have done something like this with my first wife. I would never pick out anything for her to wear, especially things like this. I could suggest things to her, and I could give my opinion about things that she wanted to consider, but the thought of buying her things and expecting her to wear them just because I liked them had been squashed out of me very early in our marriage. That’s what I wanted to prove to myself: that this was different. That my relationship with Brenda, Lisa, and Cherry didn’t have the level of insecurity that had made my first wife afraid and repulsed by the idea that she would wear something that I had chosen for her. That I had some direct influence over her. To her, that would have meant taking away her choices. Sure, she was silently influenced by my presence or her feelings about me, but an active influence was akin to slavery in her mind.
That’s not how it had to be. Brenda and Cherry, and maybe Lisa, I didn’t remember, had so much as said that they liked it when I exercised an ability to tell them what I wanted. They understood that I didn’t force them to do anything. I didn’t take away their choices. What we did at times for each other was: one, to clearly communicate our desires, and two, let each other make decisions for us in a way that freed us from the burden. I would eat what Cherry decided for me. Just like at The Afra. It left me more room for other things. It freed me to focus on what was more important than a menu.
I knew that my first wife wanted to look good to me, but she had to constantly guess because she couldn’t accept any hint of me telling her what to do. And the problem wasn’t that she knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. It was exactly the opposite. She had no idea who she really was or what it was that she wanted. She wasn’t submissive at all. Not that I wanted that. She was just so unsure of herself that she had to make all of her own decisions, even when she didn’t know how. It was frustrating for me. I loved her. I really did. But my life with her was a constant act of walking on eggshells. And at times, of walking on broken glass. Now that I was thinking about all of this, it was probably why I had told Brenda to give me her towel that first morning and why I’d told Lisa to drop hers for me after she showered that first time as well. I was going to say what I wanted and if either of them balked, that was up to them. I wasn’t in the mood to tiptoe.
This, buying trinkets and accessories that I thought would be fun was an act of mindfulness. Of acting as my true self. Of putting away my years of programming that told me to look but not touch. Or to influence but not act. To hell with that. If I thought that they would look cute in an anklet, I’d tell them to wear one. If they didn’t want to, they didn’t have to. And we would work out a peace between us that functioned for all of us. A pattern that pleased all of us.
I knew that it was going to work. Brenda had proved it. All of them had. Brenda had been confident enough of herself to hand me her towel and let me see her naked, even though she was insecure about her body to the point where she initially wouldn’t even consider a bathing suit. Something about her feelings of her own security, at least in the context of being with me, let her do what I told her, in spite of her insecurities about her body. That was the essence of a healthy submission. I submitted myself to things all the time. In healthy ways. I submitted to the law, to my supervisor on the job when I’d had one, to my sense of right and wrong. I would submit to Robby in my new role working for his foundation. I submitted to Cherry in her role as my…whatever she was. In the same secure and healthy way, Brenda was eager to submit to me, and at times, to Lisa and Cherry. And at other times, she expected Lisa to submit to her. And all I saw was a healthy freedom based on the safety of our oneness. And that safety and security cried out for a bit of risk and eroticism.
Eroticism is what leads to sexual feelings and desire. It isn’t sex in and of itself. It’s more like the things that develop a sexual energy, whether that energy is released or not. A wonderful meal can build a sexual energy. A good talk. A walk on the beach. An argument between lovers that results in honesty and understanding. And in more active senses, a loud rock concert, an adventurous climb, beauty, art, scary movies, shopping for lingerie, or any number of other things. Lovers kiss at sunset. People hook up at parties. Brenda and Cherry got aroused by me telling them what I wanted if it let them do something scary or unusual or took away their need to make a decision that they didn’t relish. Brenda had wanted to have me see her naked so that she could find out if I would recoil from her breasts the way that her ex-husband had, so when I told her to give me her towel, she was thrilled to do it. It scared her. It took away her need for me to act for her. It made her safe in taking that risk because I had told her to and she didn’t have to wonder if I wanted it. It was erotic.
My next stop was a shop that sold bamboo fabric stuff. Sheets and clothing. Bamboo is a great fabric. So soft and comfortable. I bought four T-shirts in my size. I bought four pair of loose-fitting shorts. And then I bought three pair of women’s panties.
A girl had been helping me find what I wanted.
When I chose panties in two different sizes, she said, “Sir, if you aren’t sure of the size, these are returnable if they haven’t been worn.”
I had two sizes because, though Cherry and Lisa wore the same size, Brenda did not.
I smiled and said confidently, “Oh, no, these are the right sizes. One of my wives is a different size than the other two. Two of them share clothes all the time, in fact, the T-shirts are for all of us to sleep in. The shorts have draws
trings, so one size for all of us will be OK for that, too. They’ll be a little big on the girls, but I think they’ll be cute. Don’t you think so?”
The girl looked puzzled for an instant but seemed to recover quickly. I had told her that I was married to three women on purpose. I couldn’t get in trouble, so why not?
I said, “You know what? I should get them T-shirts of their own, too. But a size too small. They are beautiful women. They will enjoy showing off a little bit for me. Here, help me pick three.”
The girl changed her demeanor to a normal, happy salesgirl who was making a big sale attitude and suggested some T-shirts. Of course, she tried to sell me a button-up shirt as well, and I gave in easily. I had a large bag of stuff as I left the shop, the girl telling me to come back soon.
Passing the jewelry store where Brenda had sold her wedding band, I saw that they had a “pick a pearl” display out. It was cruise ship day and the stores went all out. “Pick a pearl” was like when I was a kid in San Diego and the family would go to Sea World. In the Japanese Cultural section, there was a big natural looking pool filled with oysters. For a fee, one of the women pearl divers would go down 20 or 30 feet and bring up a random oyster. One of the workers would open it and you got to keep whatever pearl was inside. This wasn’t quite like that, but sort of. In this incarnation, there were two large basins that looked like giant clam shells, filled with water and a selection of small oysters. The price was reasonable and as I stood there for a minute, the woman working there offered me a bowl to pick a mystery discount ticket. It was half off the price of the oysters. I really wanted to do it for the nostalgia of the thing, but I also wanted to wait until the girls were with me so that we could have the somewhat hokey experience together. Instead of getting a pearl for each girl, we would take whatever we got and have it set into a family keepsake of some kind. Maybe we’d set it on a coffee table or beside our bed. Yeah, beside our bed would be nice. I liked that idea a lot. A token of our beginning. A pearl from an intuitive choice that the four of us made together.
About 4:30 that afternoon, Car called and let me know that they were headed back to the resort and would be there in about 45 minutes or so.
I went up to the suite and took a shower. Even in December, Kauai is humid. Afterward, I put on a fresh shirt and shorts and went to the balcony and just sat and relaxed and breathed. I heard the girls come in just about the time that Car had estimated.
As they entered the living room, all of them were wearing their wrap-around dresses and Cherry carried a medium-sized beach tote with whatever else they had taken with them. As soon as the door was closed, Brenda and Lisa both pulled at the dress and tossed it aside onto the nearest piece of furniture. Cherry took a moment to set her bag down first. She didn’t immediately undress the way that the other two did.
Cherry said, “Sir, if you don’t have other plans, I’d like to have dinner served in the suite.”
Brenda said, “Sweetie, we’re all beat. And want a quick shower at least. Can we just eat up here and stay quiet for the evening?”
Lisa said, “Yeah. Maybe go to bed early? I could fall asleep right now.”
I said, “That sounds great. Let’s do it. You go take a shower and freshen up and do whatever you need to. Was it a hard day?”
Lisa and Cherry both grinned and Brenda said, “No. It was a wonderful day. But we’ve been in the sun and um, making adjustments emotionally.”
Lisa said, “Yeah, there were a lot of things to think about. Good things. But different things. I’m so tired.”
Cherry said, “I’ll order dinner. Ronny, when it comes, would you bring it inside for us? Brenda will set it out on the table when she gets out of the shower. I’ll be quick and we can talk about anything else you want for this evening and tomorrow. “
I said, “Of course. Take your shower first and we will talk while Brenda and Lisa relax.”
Brenda said, “The shower is big enough for all of us. Cherry, we need more hairdryers.”
Cherry smiled and said, “I’ll put it on the list, Ma’am.”
Brenda and Lisa walked naked into the bedroom to get the shower started. Cherry came close to me and when she was right in front of me, she dropped her wrap. I put my hands on her hips and she pressed against me.
She whispered, “You are my husband. I know that now. It’s weird that I didn’t really get it before. Not really, because I never imagined being married, but now I understand. If I wasn’t so exhausted, I’d ask you to shower with me. I’d let Brenda and Lisa go first and then I’d take you and shower with you. And I would shower you and wash you and make your day disappear. And when I had dried you off and shaved you, I would love you with all the tenderness that I want you to have in our home. Ronny, we are going to have a home. Or more likely, several. And in every one, you will be my king. And Brenda, Lisa, and I will be your queen. Brenda most of all.”
I asked, “Brenda most of all?”
Cherry said, “You’ll see. I understand her now. I could not love a woman more than I love Brenda now. Let me go wash up. I’ll be back soon.”
Cherry kissed me quickly and walked off in the direction of the shower, dragging her dress behind her. Brenda was right when she called Cherry “Wonder-Bottom”. The girl really did have a great ass.
The food hadn’t arrived when Cherry reappeared no more than five minutes later. Her hair was still wet. It looked liked she had only towel-dried it and brushed it out.
She had a towel wrapped around herself as she poked her head out the bedroom door and said, “Sweetie, we have a problem.”
I went to the bedroom quickly to see what was wrong.
Cherry sensed my sudden concern and said quickly, “Oh, Babe, it’s not a big problem. It’s just that, well, I don’t know quite how to put this, but it’s like our brains and all of our talents have gone haywire and have stopped working. We don’t have a lot of clothing options like bathrobes and comfy nightdresses and not one of us knows what we should wear right now. None of us can figure out how to get dressed. I can’t even remember what I ordered for dinner.
I said, “Oh, there’s the door now. I’ll be right back.”
I rushed to the front of the suite and answered the door. A girl had a cart with our meals. She offered to come set it out for us, but I told her that we would do it. Thanking her, I started to find a tip for her, but she stopped me and told me that any gratuities were taken care of as a bonus for serving VIP guests and that she couldn’t take anything extra from me. I thanked her again and pulled the cart inside and hurried back to Cherry.
She was sitting on the corner of the bed, waiting. She had discarded the towel and sat with her legs slightly spread to each side of the corner of the mattress. I assumed that she did it because she wanted me to look, so I didn’t bother to pretend to avert my eyes. Her polished vulva was a sweet sight to behold. Cherry noticed my gaze and the look of appreciation on my face and smiled.
She said, “Maybe we don’t get dressed at all, but we kind of want to wear something. But we absolutely have no idea what. We need to do more shopping. Babe, we are so beat we need you to try to dress us.”
I smiled and went to the shopping bags that I had brought to the suite earlier and pulled out that bamboo T-shirts that I had bought in my size. I had bought them specifically for the girls to sleep and lounge in. And since they were my shirts, to symbolize our bonds, at least in my mind.
I held out a large soft shirt and said, “Put this on.”
Cherry stood up and smiled and held her hands out so that I could dress her. I had intended to hand her the shirt so that she could put it on but this was even better.
As the garment fell around her body, draping her in the thin fabric, she said, “Did you buy these for us? I should know what you intended, but like I said, right now I feel drained and can’t tell half of what’s going on. But you bought these for us, right?”
I said, “I bought myself four T-shirts with the intention that you would we
ar them. How does it feel?”
She said, “It feels really good. And the fabric is nice, too. Thank you for thinking of us in this way. I get it. I get it more and more every minute.”
I said, “Sweetie, take these other two to the girls and tell them to wear them.”
Cherry hugged me and said, “Make sure you leave the food where it is. Brenda will take care of it. We’ll see you on the balcony. Oh, if that’s what you want.”
I said, “It is. Do me a favor. Tell the girls that I said no underwear. Don’t let Brenda make you wear panties. If she has a problem with it, send her to talk to me. No, don’t. Tell her that I said no panties and that’s the end of it.”
Cherry smiled and said, “Babe, right now none of us have an ounce of fight left in us. You said T-shirts. It wouldn’t occur to us to add panties. We’ll see you in a minute.”
Cherry headed to the bathroom and I headed to the balcony. I was tempted to take the food cart with me. Cherry had said that they were exhausted. I should give Brenda a break. But the truth was that Brenda didn’t want a break. She wanted to take care of dinner. It was what she wanted.
I had a saying that if you bring a man a burger when he wants a salad, you didn’t serve him. Bringing something that someone doesn’t want, regardless of your own feelings about it didn’t honor the person that you were trying to serve. If I tried to “Serve” Brenda by doing something that she didn’t want, especially by taking away something that she did want, I wasn’t doing her any favors at all. I supposed that it could be different if she were endangering herself. If she was sick with the flu and insisted on getting everyone dinner, that called for me to stop her and force her to lie down for her own good. Most of the time, that didn’t apply. Most of the time, she wouldn’t be harming herself. This seemed like one of those times where I would be happy to take care of her but needed to let her do what she wanted to by taking care of us. It seemed.
Island Cultural Center Page 28
