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

haven’t met Greg yet,” said Marci, for no reason in particular.

“No.”

“He’s nice. Ryan likes him.”

“I’m sure he does. This sort of thing wouldn’t work if you didn’t all like and respect each other.”

“You mean the screwing around?” asked Marci.

“That’s not how I look at it,” said Harold. “None of us is looking around hoping to get laid. Meg and I both really like Gail and Emily. There’s a relationship there aside from what goes on in the bedroom. We enjoy spending time together.”

We passed two teenage boys fishing in the surf. Marci gave them a bright Hola and smiled. Had I been one of these boys I would have thought I’d won the lottery.

“That felt weird,” said Marci, after a few more paces. “I forgot my tits were out.”

That was a reasonable response, in that she felt it may have been inappropriate. Had Harold and I been naked passing two teenage girls, I would have felt creepy. I pointed this out.

“If they had been girls and Harold and I were naked, I’d feel the same.”

“You guys would be okay,” said Marci. “I would have been happy to see you guys naked.”

“You mean, before we were arrested… Maybe we should turn around. I think we’re nearing the public beaches. The hotel’s beach is restricted.”

Marci crossed her arms over her breasts as we passed the boys on our return. They didn’t seem interested in us either way.

“Ah, this feels better anyway,” she said. “It’s not that comfortable walking around with loose big tits.”

“I can imagine.”

“Can you really? Here, stand behind me and hold them up.” She stood still, and I did as instructed, accidentally pressing my otherwise stealthy erection into her bottom.

“Whoa, what is that?” she said, laughing. I let go of her breasts. They were heavy when held that way, and I could imagine the strain. “Oh, don’t let go!”

“It makes walking difficult,” I said.

“I’m sure Harold wouldn't mind holding them, would you, Harold?”

He laughed and Marci recrossed her arms. The idea of Harold holding Marci’s breasts put my mind in a tizzy.

As we regained the cabana Susan was receiving a back massage from Meg, who was sitting low on her rump. She had pulled Susan’s suit halfway down her buttcrack, which struck me as peculiarly erotic. We sat around them just as Chloe reprised her role as a waitress. It startled me anew to see her topless.

“Another round?” she asked. If I wasn’t mistaken, she was still entirely sober.

“Hey!” said Marci. “Let’s get champagne! Doesn’t that sound really decadent?”

“On the beach?” asked Susan, lifting herself onto her elbows. Her breasts dangled beneath her in a flirty way and I could see a nipple was perky and taut, something I wouldn’t have expected in this heat. What sort of massage was Meg giving her?

“Why not?” asked Harold. “We’re on vacation, aren’t we?”

“Chloe,” I said. “Do you even have champagne out here?”

“We have Cristal and Dom Perignon, but Americans never order those.”

I thought there might be more to that sentence, but she proved me wrong. “Well, what do Americans order?”

“We have a Napa Brut for $40.”

“And how much are those other two?” asked Harold.

“$259, either one.”

Harold turned to me. “Ryan, where are we on that litigation with Foster & Oswald?”

“The last I heard Ben was ready to file any day now.”

“Good. That concludes our business. We can write this off. Chloe, bring us two bottles each of Cristal and Dom Perignon.”

Chloe gave us what I often referred to as a “Millennial Shrug” and left.

“Aren’t ethically grey areas fun!” said Marci.

“Harold, you can’t do that,” said Meg.

“What? It’s a legitimate deduction if we discuss business.”

No one else chimed in so we let the order stand. Peterson, Joffrees & Bauch would pay for the champagne. I didn’t mention that the $4000 bid paying for our trip and already slipped into the company’s records as a charity donation.

“Now me you,” said Susan, referring to the afternoon massage session. She got on her knees while Meg laid down to receive her massage. Susan pulled Meg’s bottoms to half-mast and dribbled oil up and down her back, then sat on her rump. Susan’s suit remained as before, also at half-mast. All of our eyes were naturally drawn to the action. Only when Meg began to moan did we feel we should shift our attention elsewhere.

“Me next!” said Marci. As we didn’t have backgammon. and no one had thought to bring along a chess set, massages were the next best thing.

Four fully dressed waiters from the hotel dining room appeared, each holding a bucket with an attached stand. Our champagne had arrived. Chloe appeared with a tray holding five champagne flutes and the drinks were served, thus halting the massage. It truly did feel decadent to be sitting in a beach cabana in Mexico drinking expensive champagne with three topless women.

“Fuck that’s good,” said Marci. Normally, she wasn’t so prolific with the “fucks”, but in this case, it was the just word for emphasis. The champagne was delectable.

Meg and Susan were now sitting next to each other, and Meg’s hand was resting on Susan’s thigh, gently stroking it. Perhaps they’d formed a bond through their massages. Marci was leaning against me, her bare breast rubbing my arm as she moved. I had one knee bent over the canopy bed and one stretched to the sand beneath. If her nipples could be judged reliably, the champagne was making Marci amorous. She kissed my cheek and clinked my glass, then kissed me on the lips. We disappeared into our own little world for a moment, then rejoined the group.

Harold was off by himself but seemed intrigue by his wife’s interactions with Susan, which were becoming chummier. I didn’t know what to think of that, and as no one said, “Hey! What’s going on here?” I felt no need to worry about it.

The three of them were chatting about European health spas. Meg described her first experiences with coed saunas, and Susan chimed in several times with “I know”, showing she