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

but thanks,” I said. Chloe nodded and left us to serve other customers.

“How many of these have you had?” asked Marci, tapping my glass.

“Possibly one too many. I’m afraid our micro dining didn’t provide sufficient sustenance to ward off later alcohol abuse. I think I also went into shock seeing Harold and Meg here. I wasn’t prepared.”

“I know. Neither was I, and I wasn’t even sure I knew them.”

“Well, we managed it in the end.” I gave Marci the full backstory on my lunch with Harold, including their sauna experiment in Austria, noting the parallels with Susan’s underwear incident.

“I can see it,” said Marci.

I wasn’t sure what she saw.

“See what?”

“His wife being seen naked in the sauna, Susan being seen in her underwear—everyone responding the same way. When I went on the balcony in my panties earlier, I felt a little naughty. When Gail and Emily saw me, they really gave me the eyeballs, so I could tell something was there. I felt a tingle… Maybe we’re all exhibitionists.”

I wasn’t comfortable with the label. I thought of Susan’s Googling and discovering that, technically, she was not an exhibitionist. She didn’t have to do it. It was optional. I explained this to Marci.

“That’s probably it. It’s just fun in a naughty way. When I was a kid, my sister and I would run around the backyard in our underwear. We had no clue why it was so exciting but we knew it was.”

“Naughty little girls.”

“That’s it.” She laughed. “Let’s make love.”

“Here?”

“No, you goof. Let’s do it on the beach.”

“Are you sure? I have to admit I am feeling a little drunk here.”

“It’ll sober you up.”

I put an arm around her as she led us out of the bar and onto the beach. The tiki bar was crowded and there were groups and couples occupying the cabanas, but the general beach was empty. We aimed about one hundred yards down the shoreline. Marci flicked off her shoes and stepped into the water.

“Oh, it’s still so warm. Can you believe this?” I removed my sandals to join her, noticing how unsteady I was without her support. Excessive bourbon had that effect. She was up to her calves in ocean. When I reached her we embraced.

After the embrace ran its course, she deftly maneuvered one leg behind my ankles and gave me the heave-ho. I tumbled backward into the surf. Had it been any shallower I could have been injured. As it was, I was merely shocked.

Marci pulled off her dress, flung it to dry sand, and dove in beyond my reach. I followed her out before contemplating the odds of menacing sea creatures being present. When I did, I stood to find I was still only waist deep.

“What was that for?” I asked, alluding to the recent dunking. I felt my wallet and phone were still secure in my shorts, which was only somewhat good news. I hadn’t lost them.

“Surprised you, huh?” Marci laughed from her belly. “You should have seen your face as you went down.”

“I can well imagine.”

She returned to the shore, grabbing my hand along the way. In her dripping bra and panties she looked sexy as hell. I, on the other hand, looked like damp laundry.

Marci shivered, even though it was still very warm.

“Hold me,” she said. When I did she jumped. “You’re freezing.”

“What did you expect? I’m wearing wet clothes. Next time, give me some warning and I’ll take them off.”

“I wanted to sober you up. That required surprise.”

“Yeah. I think your plan worked.”

“Good, because I want you to fuck me now. Take off your clothes.”

“You know, I can see people from here.” I looked at the beach tiki bar, a hundred yards away.

“I know!” She gave me a mischievous look, then laid on the beach out of the water’s reach and removed her panties.

“Just a quickie, Ryan. All you have to do is come inside me. I’m already there, really. Or I could do it myself if you’re busy.” She began twirling her finger over her clit. “Oh, yeah. Forget it. I’m good here.” She laughed.

I removed my clothes, not so easy to do when they were wet, and kneeled in front of Marci. Her legs were wide open with her knees raised.

“Careful! Don’t get any sand on your dick.”

I didn’t. She was gorgeously wet and especially warm inside. There was no poetic way to describe how it felt that would do it justice.

“Oh God!” she said. “So perfect!” I started thrusting. She put her hands on my back, encouraging me. “Oh fuck! Ryan!!!” She heaved herself into my cock, lifting her bottom off the sand. “FUCKING HELL!!!” She came with no further encouragement. I was about to join her when I heard voices closing in. One of them was equipped with a flashlight. Fortunately, the voices turned to go in another direction, but it was enough of an intrusion to throttle my earlier intention of coming wildly inside Marci, who was now sitting up and staring at the receding intruders.

“Jesus,” she said. “Do you think they saw us?”

“No clue. Probably not.”

We both dipped into the ocean to rinse the sand, then put on our clothes.

“Yuck. This doesn’t feel so great, and it’s not concealing much now, is it?” Her wet underwear was bleeding through the fabric.

“It’s late. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Once back in our room, we stripped and laid our clothes over the rail on the balcony. We slipped into the outdoor shower for a final rinse, then air dried in the fragrant Caribbean breeze. I was feeling much more sober, and therefore alert to the fact that I could hear Harold’s voice blending into the airwaves from next door. It sounded like he and Emily were engaged in the pursuit of orgasmic bliss in one form or other.

We could also hear laughter and shrieks from the pool area as well as from the other rooms surrounding us. As much as one could assume sordid activities were afoot, it all sounded wholesome to me. How