The Vacation Wife by David Stone (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📕

said, joining her on the balcony. There were now other couples, many of them both women, enjoying their balconies too. Marci aimed for the outdoor shower, turned the nozzles, and stepped into it.

“Want to join me?”

The water was lukewarm, which was fine. We rinsed the accumulated sand and salt and dried off sitting at the small cafe-style table which looked suitable for breakfast dining.

“I could definitely live like this,” she said. “I think I’m serious about finding a place down here.”

“We’ll see what Greg scored tonight.”

“Is he rich?”

“I think he’s well off. You do okay yourself.”

“Yeah, so do you.”

“Lucky us.”

“Right. Lucky us… I think I need a nap.” She yawned broadly and stretched beautifully. This caused me to yawn and recognize my own fatigue, no doubt due to the early rising, the flight, the drive to Tulum, and our exertions on the beach.

“We have plenty of time.”

Feeling sufficiently dry, Marci stood and aimed for our bed. It was covered in rich looking white sheets. She laid on her stomach nude and cuddled a pillow while raising one leg, bent at the knee, into a perpendicular position. There was zero modesty in this pose, and she still looked angelic. I laid facing her back. She reached a hand around and pulled me in, aligning my cock between her buttocks. Once there, she wiggled her bottom and moaned approvingly.

Within minutes her gentle snores mingled with sounds of waves curling over the shore and the palms chafing in the breeze. Before I could join her in blissful sleep, I contemplated seeing Susan in a few short hours. I would be happy to see her but also conflicted. I wasn’t sure why.

All I really knew was, in that moment, I existed between two worlds, and in one of them quite more than the other.

Chapter 23: Home Away From Home

GREG PROVES HIS COURAGE

We found Greg’s condo with only minor difficulty. The rental car’s GPS was convinced we were in Turin, Italy, so it wasn’t helpful. Fortunately, a few locals were familiar with the Vista Marítima Condominiums. They progressively provided a consensus that it was “that way”.

“Honey!” said Susan gleefully, once we’d arrived. She was wearing one of Greg’s t-shirts and nothing else. She gave me a long hug and offered a lingering kiss. I was almost worried about what Greg would think of it. “God, I’ve missed you so much!” She sounded sincere, and this made me happy. I had missed her too but hadn’t realized it until she gave me the warm welcome.

Greg was similarly ebullient. “Good to see you! Did you find us okay?” He offered a firm handshake.

“You’re right where you said you’d be,” I said. He smiled and gave Marci a hug.

Driving in, I had already noticed Vista Marítima Condominiums were upmarket. Standing inside Greg’s unit offered conclusive proof. It looked like an Architectural Digest featured property. Its only shortcoming was the heat. It was like an oven.

“Gee, Susan,” said Marci. “I’m feeling overdressed here.” I had earlier learned Marci shopped especially for this trip and was now wearing a nice V-necked, mermaid style sundress. It showed wonderful taste as well as bountiful cleavage. It was also cut high up the middle and exposed the upper ranges of her thighs when she walked. Susan’s t-shirt provided a stark contrast.

Susan laughed. “I know! You look wonderful! What a lucky man!” She said that last bit looking at me. “You may have noticed it’s hot in here. The AC hasn’t been working. Hence…” She surveyed her attire to complete her sentence.

“It should be running by tomorrow,” said Greg. “Sorry. We should have warned you.”

I noted the “we”.

“But hey!” said Susan. “You won’t believe this. We’ve got a balcony over there, but the roof is really where we hang out. It’s like our outdoor living room. There’s even a bar up there. You’ll see!”

I again noted the “we” and the addition of an “our”.

Susan led us to a spiral staircase that rose from the balcony to the roof. As she was leading the way, it was clear she was going commando, something Marci felt compelled to point out.

“You forget something there, girl?” she asked.

Susan paused and turned. “What? Do you need something? I said there’s a full bar up here.”

“Not that. It’s just that my mother told me to always be wearing panties.”

Susan blushed. “Oh, God! I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking of that!” She gathered the hem of her T-shirt tightly around her thighs and continued.

“Hey, no problem. You’ve got a pretty bottom. Later if you want, I’ll show you mine.”

We arrived on the roof which was indeed spectacular. There was an outdoor living area nicer than most people’s indoor living rooms, a raised deck for sunbathing, a small pool or jacuzzi, or both, with an infinity edge on one side, all topped off by a sleek bar as you might find in modern European boutique hotels.

“Jesus. Talk about being blown away,” said Marci. “I love it. It’s so decadent. What do you do when it rains?”

“Everything’s waterproof, even the cushions.”

“Nice.”

“Drinks?” asked Greg. He went to the bar, pushed a button, and from the bare-topped credenza behind him rose a complete selection of booze. It was lit from the bottom through its glass shelves which produced a warm, ethereal glow.

“Wow,” said Marci. “This is all so great! You don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Oh, there’s the beach too,” said Greg. “You can’t see it now. It’s a short hike to get to, but it’s private and usually empty.”

It was all very nice and upscale and it pleased me that Greg had been so successful. After all, I wouldn’t want my wife hitching up with a starving, no-talent artist. That would have really twisted the knife, but not this. Susan had selected a fine target.

This isn’t to say she had been in any way aware of Greg’s broader successes in life. Or was she? Our neighborhood was upmarket, our homes uselessly large, our property taxes through the roof, all proof that Greg had money.