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

with me. Anyway, I think you gave the guy a thrill. His eyes were all over you.”

“I just forgot… Hey, you didn’t put your suit on.”

“I was waiting to see what you would do.”

“If I’d realized I was naked, I would have put on my suit. You could've just told me, you know.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

Marci smiled, looked back at the receding couple, and laughed again.

“I don’t really mind. I actually feel a little tingly, like Susan felt when Greg saw her in her underwear.”

That observation certainly tightened the bow on the summer’s theme. Maybe those dreams we all shared of being caught naked or in our underwear were actually premonitions.

After freshening up in our room we headed for the Mojito Bar. Nearly always when I traveled, the hotel’s bar, if of sufficient character and quality, became the focal point around which other activities either commenced or ended. This spoke to its convenience and soon, its familiarity. Travel was tiring, and it was best to keep things simple.

Marci saw the two women from the balcony and steered us in their direction. There was no sign of Chloe, who may have been sleeping it off in the jungle for all anyone knew.

“Hi!” said Marci. I offered a friendly hello and we sat.

“I’m Ryan, by the way.”

“I’m Gail and this is Emily,” said the one claiming to be Gail. They were both attractive, athletic looking women, possibly in their low-thirties.

“Nice to meet you.” A waitress took our order and we settled in.

“We’re from Atlanta,” said Emily. “Where are you guys from?”

Marci responded with our coordinates, and from there we were off. Knowing each other’s personal geographies filled in most of the blanks. For example, I knew about life in Atlanta, its climate and so forth, where to eat, where not to eat, etc. Seasoned travelers didn’t get bogged down in those types of details.

Marci, feeling no need not to cut to the chase, asked if they were a couple. I silently agreed it was best not to make assumptions in those areas.

“Yes, a married couple,” said Gail, with a nice smile. “We have a son back home. He’s three. Emily’s old sweetheart is the father.”

“That must be nice,” I said. “I guess it also means he’s involved with the child.”

“So is his wife,” said Emily. “We used to be a threesome. They have a girl, also three. You would think they’re twins.”

“We were a foursome for a while,” said Gail, with a bit of a snicker.

“That’s nice,” said Marci, apparently having no trouble imagining or digesting the information we’d just received. “Do you all still get together?”

Though I thought that might be stepping out of bounds, no one else seemed to.

“Not as much,” said Emily, almost wistfully. “It’s a bit of a chore now with the kids, plus we all work. They’re watching our son while we’re here.”

Our drinks arrived and Gail toasted our new friendship. As I set my drink down, I noticed Chloe slithering in behind the bar in an awkward, crab-like fashion.

“So what’s your story?” asked Emily. “I don’t think there’s any more to know about us.” She laughed and gave her partner a wink. I interpreted this to mean there was, in fact, a lot more to know about them.

“I’m his vacation wife,” said Marci. “We’re not really married. His real wife is shacking up with their neighbor. He has a condo here. It’s really magnificent.”

That pretty well summed it up though I probably wouldn't have mentioned this aspect of our relationship. For a brief moment, I felt sleazy, but it passed. I was sitting with two gay women who were also variously part of a threesome or foursome, depending on their work schedules. As children were in the mix, and therefore a male, it meant at least two of the women were bisexual or at least flexible. I would have needed a pencil and paper to give it a more proper analysis.

“My,” said Gail. “We’re a table of progressives here.” She took a sip of her drink while surveying the bar. “That’s probably true of everyone here.”

“I know,” said Marci. “At least, we got that impression. One of the waitresses hit on me last night.”

“Chloe?” asked Emily.

“If we’re naming names, that’s the name I would choose.”

Emily laughed. “Join the club.”

I saw a woman with spiky hair, a sheer top and severe make-up amble up to the bar. Her arms were running out of real estate for her abundant tattoos. Chloe was on her like a moth to a flame.

“So, how does it work when you’re back home?” asked Gail, speaking to Marci. “If you’re a vacation wife here, what are you there?”

Marci gave me a look before responding. All I could think to do was nod my head, meaning I’d go along with whatever she said.

“This is all kind of new. I used to live with Ryan before he married his wife. In fact, I introduced them, and I’ve known her forever.”

“That’s nice,” said Emily. “Just see where it goes. That’s how we look at it. We have friends like us too, but Gail and I are—well, I don’t know what to call us. We’re a primary couple?”

“That’s close enough,” said Gail. “We’re a forever couple, regardless of who else we let into our relationship.” She paused for a sip of her drink. “In fact, we’re meeting another couple here later. They’re from the States too, but we met them abroad. They’re a little older. Emily came out with an older woman, so she’s got a thing for them.” Gail laughed. “I’m kidding. She’s a lovely woman, as is her husband.”

So, they were a couple, but also part of a foursome, and what sounded like a possible secondary foursome, but perhaps only during vacations. I imagined Christmas shopping could be a challenge. My first impression was it all seemed kind of loose, but who was I to judge? Having Susan and Marci on my plate, to put it crudely, was already nearly more than I could