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 ï>¿The Corporate Party on April Fools byMostodd07Â(C)

   Molly killed at the shred class.  Her ass never looked better.  Her abs
rippled when she cocked a hip.  Men in her class, and some women, came on
to her.  At 29, she knew she looked good.  Still she was nervous.  What was
wrong between Harold and her?  They had been married for seven years, both
had successful careers, had good health, took annual vacations to exotic
locations, and yet Harold never touched her any longer.  He blamed the
pressures of work, which had been on-going for the past eighteen months. 
And now, he had sprung the news that he had invited six of his bosses to
their home for a corporate party on April 1.  April Fool's Day.

   Molly hoped he was joking, but he was serious.  He volunteered to make
all the arrangements, hire the caterers, hire a pianist to provide
background music, and make sure everything was cleaned up.  "And the bonus
is that while we are away on our vacation, the corporation has agreed to
redo our entire kitchen.  All you have to do is show up on April 1 with
your beautiful smile," he said, then ducked off to do more work.

   Molly had been shy and retiring at college before they met.  She had
been encouraged by her friends to streak the library, to play strip poker,
to skinny dip at the pond.  She had always refused, although she was not
adverse to watching.  When she met Harold at a presentation on genetics,
mathematics, and robotics, she knew he was the one.  She wore a white lab
coat, her usual attire nowadays, but he saw the real Molly behind that. 
They had a whirlwind courtship, and married the summer after college, both
only 22.

   Usually they vacationed in Paris, Moscow, Tel Aviv, and Istanbul, places
grounded in scientific and genetic lore.  Harold carried a notebook
everywhere with him, always taking notes.

   But the most recent proposed vacation shocked her.  He arranged that
they would spend a week on a warm Caribbean island that was clothing
optional.  The accommodations were luxurious and expensive.  The clientele
were young and adventurous, like themselves.  Molly was happy she had
trained especially hard at the gym, because she wanted to tempt Harold with
her new, tiny thong bikini.  When in Rome, right?  She wanted to put some
spark back into their love life.

   Her ass improved until it was round and high.  Her thighs were slim and
firm.  She suffered through a Brazilian wax and enjoyed the clean feeling
of complete smoothness.  Her breasts were small but firm, still perky.  She
packed few clothes, a negligee, her new barely-there bikini, and lots of
tanning lotion.  Based on the last vacation, she brought her new best
friend, a small, vibrating egg.  A girl has needs, after all.

   Their fifth-floor room overlooked the white beach with purling waves
whispering.  From the balcony, they could see up and down the beach, and
the pool, and the outdoor restaurant.  Other rooms had the same view.  She
could exchange waves to her neighbors sitting on their own balconies,
sipping neon-colored drinks.

   The first day, Harold and Molly planned to walk the beach together. 
However, his phone rang and Harold was pulled into Zoom meetings, where he
would be busy for at least the next four hours.  Molly took a towel and a
paperback and decided to explore the hotel and the beach.

   She was pleased to see that even in shorts and a halter, she attracted
attention from other guests.  Usually, just a hello and a smile, but
occasionally an overly friendly arm on her shoulder, and in one case, a
sharp pinch on her taut, inviting rear.

   She stopped back in the room to bring Harold some lunch.  They ate it
together, while he was still on the phone and making his notes.  "I hate
your notes, darling," she said.

   Harold shrugged with a sheepish grin.  "My notes pay for this beautiful
vacation."

   They ate lunch.  Harold was distracted.  Molly watched island TV until
she could no longer stand it.  "Do you mind if I go to the pool to wait for
your?"

   Harold waved her goodbye.

   She took a deep breath and changed into the tiny bikini.  She blushed at
herself in the bathroom mirror.  She was so white!  Her ass was so exposed!
There was a large mole on the inside of her left breast, reminding her that
she was not perfect.  Her bra easily hid her imperfection and contained her
breasts, which mounded nicely around the triangular fabric.  She draped a
towel around her hips.  She hoped Harold would notice her before she left.

   He didn't.

   After claiming her beach spot and spreading her towel, she spent the
afternoon walking leisurely on the beach in her small bikini.  She dragged
her toes through the water as she walked to the far end of the beach, then
turned to walk back.

   The white beach gleamed in the sun.  She stopped periodically to apply
sunscreen.  Beachgoers were in small clumps along the strip.  Like her,
most were still gathering their courage and wore a bathing suit.  As she
returned, she noticed that more than half of the women were topless,
sunbathing and frolicking in the azure waves.  One woman and her partner
were totally nude, laughing as they tossed a beach ball high overhead.

   She envied them.

   Molly returned to her spread towel and reapplied sun screen.  A quick
text to Harold confirmed he was still busy.  She lay on her front.  The hot
sun picked small points on her skin, not uncomfortably.  She might risk
going topless, if no one made a deal about it.  She snuck a peak around
her. No one really cared what she did, still she didn't feel comfortable
exposing herself without Harold around.  As it was, men still smiled at
her, testing her availability.  She didn't encourage them, and she didn't
loosen her top.  She was married to Harold.  Unfortunately, he didn't
appreciate her.

   What was Harold's problem?

   That night, Harold and Molly ate a fine dinner of seafood, vegetables,
and fruit.  They drank a little more than they should have.  After dinner,
they walked on the beach and watched the sun set.  He kept his notebook at
his side, but didn't open it the entire time they were together.  Molly
felt she was making progress.

   The evening was warm.  Molly tasted the salt on the breeze.  The scent
of tropical flowers suffused the air.  They kissed and walked hand in hand
to their room.

   Molly took a quick shower and admired her sleek look in the mirror.  She
decided to come naked to bed.  Harold was already under the sheets and had
his notebook in hand.  The only light was on the notebook.  She was masked
in shadow.

   "You like?" she asked.

   "You always look beautiful," he said, without looking up.

   Molly slid open the door to the balcony.  The resort was lit like a
fairy castle, with delicate lights twinkling.  She stepped out onto the
balcony and took a deep breath.  She looked at the other balconies.

   She was not alone.

   Couples in various stages of undress and engaged in the preliminaries to
sex were hanging from every balcony.  Always couples!  Then she saw a few
men alone, taking in the free sex shows on the balcony.  When they saw her,
they raised their drinks in salute.

   A thrill coursed through her.  She didn't feel threatened, even though
she was completely exposed.  It occurred to her that she had missed a lot
of exciting adventures by not streaking the library, going skinny dipping,
or playing strip poker.  She smiled back at the men, and stretched with her
hands behing her head.  Both tits elevated nicely, her nipples aimed at the
moon.  One of the gawkers dropped his drink when she reached the apex of
her stretch.

   "Honey," she called.  "Come out on the balcony.  It's beautiful out
here."

   The only answer was a rumbling snore.  Molly couldn't believe it.  She
charged back into the room, ready to jump onto Harold.  Instead, she
paused. He looked so relaxed, under the white sheets, breathing deeply. 
She hadn't realized the strains he was under at work, and how much he
really needed this vacation.

   His precious notebook was on the nightstand next to him.  Molly wondered
what might be so important to him.  She wasn't sure she would understand
the technical mathematical jargon, but she wanted to see.

   She opened the book.  Just as she expected, it was filled with formulas,
coding, and graphs.  Some of the graphs were of circles, sometimes in equal
pairs, surrounding smaller circles.  There were vertical waves, sinuous
wave functions, often two mirror images of each other.  There was something
erotic about the drawings as she studied them.  There might have been
something sexy about the numbers, too, but she couldn't be sure.  She
closed the notebook and placed it back on the night table.

   She slipped into bed beside him.  He didn't stir.  She settled on her
side before reaching into the drawer on her side.  Her fingers danced
through the drawer until she found her egg.  She gave it a quick kiss,
turned it on, and put it to work.

   The next morning, they shared a breakfast of fruit, coffee, and light
toast.  Harold took her for a walk on the beach.  She wore the shorts and
top she wore to breakfast.  She didn't press the clothing optional matter
because there was a slight chill in the air.  They walked until the sun was
higher and warmer, but as soon as the sun reached its apogee, Harold became
nervous and retreated back to the room.  Molly came with him, trying to
convince him to come to the beach.  He apologized, but he needed to finish
the sketches and calculations.

   Molly wished she could do some of her own laboratory work remotely. 
Then it hit her.  This is a vacation away from work.  If Harold couldn't be
pulled away, Molly owed it to their marriage that at least one of them
enjoy the time.  She changed into her thong bikini, adjusted the tiny top
around her perfectly acceptable if slightly imperfect breasts, grabbed a
beach towel and a paperback, and stormed to the beach.

   Molly lay stretched out on her stomach.  After a quarter hour, she dared
herself to untie the top.  She lay her head one way, then the other, but
could not get comfortable.  She shuffled her legs, widened them a little,
tickled where the small thong fit so neatly in the cleft of her behind.

   A shadow passed over her.  She lifted on one shoulder and looked back. A
slim man with broad shoulders wearing a speedo knelt on one knee next to
her.  He held a bottle of sunscreen, rocking it back and forth.

   "Permettez-moi to apply some protection to you," he said in clumsy
English with a French accent.

   Molly held up her left hand and wiggled the third finger.  "Married."

   He flashed a winning smile.  "That is no reason for you to suffer the
sunburn, no?"

   Molly chuckled, but didn't move.  Instead, she felt a slight brush on
her backside.  The Frenchman was lightly removing the white sand from her
rounded behind.  Molly hadn't known there was any sand there.  She almost
told him to stop it, but then again, it felt kind of pleasant.  He
continued to dust off her legs, from the thighs to the calves.  He held her
left foot in his hand and firmly massaged it.

   Molly relaxed and put her head down.  When he switched to the other
foot, she changed her head's position so she could see him clearly.  He
smiled and rocked the sunscreen bottle again.

   "Oh, go ahead," she said.

   The sunscreen was cold on her sun-warmed skin and she gasped as his
large hands spread it over her back, and then lower at her waist.  She
caught her breath again as he spread it on her thighs and calves.  He
hadn't protected much of her butt, though.

   He seemed to be waiting for her explicit okay.

   "You don't want my derriere to burn, do you?" she asked with one eye
closed agains the sun's brightness.

   "No, no, of course not!  Bien sÃ>r que non!"

   His large hands cupped her cheeks and slipped up and down covering them
completely.  His long fingers pressed against her hip bone on the side of
her pelvis, and were almost long enough to reach underneath to the front of
her thighs.  No other man or college student had touched her so intimately
before, with the exception of Harold.  Perhaps she had missed something in
those years.

   His hands palpated and smoothed her glutes.  One long finger slipped
between the cheeks and the tip brushed her anus.  She tightened and
considered slapping his face.  Except that it felt exciting, new,
thrilling. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax and let him
explore the area.  Her breathing became regular and calm.

   To her embarrassment, she fell asleep while the Frenchman's hands were
still stroking her.

   When she awoke, she was alone on her stomach.  The sun was high.  The
Frenchman came back to give her a bottle of ice-cold water to sip.  Without
really thinking, Molly turned over and sat up.  Her breasts were uncovered,
but she forced herself not to mind.  The Frenchman looked only into her
eyes.  He'd probably seen thousands of women topless.  The only thing that
caused Molly some embarrassment was the pale white triangles on her breasts
and the mole on the inside curve of her left breast.  She would have to do
something about those triangles.

   The Frenchman held out the sunscreen, rocking it a little.  "Use for
your frontside, no?"

   Molly smiled and took the bottle.  "Could you make sure I don't miss any
place?"

   The Frenchman smiled, but shook his head.  "You tempt me too much
already, ma cherie.  Pardonne-moi, but I must say no."

   Molly nodded, her eyes twinkling.  She applied the cream slowly,
carefully on her breasts.  They responded by tightening her nipples and
pushing forward a bit.  "My name is Molly.  I hate this birthmark or mole
or whatever it is.  It's so ugly."

   He paused before answering.  "Mon nom est Luc."

   "You may as well share this part of the beach with me, Luc."

   "Are you sure you do not mind?" He didn't wait for her answer before
retrieving his towel and cooler and dragging them over to her.  "I don't
make you uncomfortable, madame?"

   Molly laughed.  She was all but naked, only a small triangle covering
her between her legs, but she felt very comfortable with this slightly
older man, Luc.  That is, until he slipped off his speedo.

   "Oh!" she said.

   "Oh, I'm sorry.  You are naked, and I didn't want you to feel like the
only one."

   Molly looked around the beach.  In the afternoon sun, nearly everyone
was naked.  With her tiny thong, she was wearing more than any other woman
there.  That decided it.  She slipped her thong past her feet.  She was
grateful to be clean shaven, even though she couldn't have told you why
exactly.  She lifted the sunscreen bottle over her white patch between her
legs and let a generous dollop splat on her mons.  It was no longer cool,
but warmed by the sun.  It slid on its own into her crevices.

   "Would you help me here?" she asked, surprised at her own boldness.

   Luc smiled but shook his head.  "You are married, ma cherie.  Let us
enjoy the freedom without complication, no?"

   "Of course," she agreed, wondering what was the matter with her.

   She was a prude and until today was comfortable with being conservative.
She'd never been to a nude beach in her life.  She'd never sunbathed naked,
even alone.  She'd never spent time lying next to a naked man, except for
Harold.  Things were changing.

   They spent time napping, dozily chatting about nothing in particular. 
He had no children and no wife.  She had no children but a husband.  She
worked in a lab wearing a white coat.  He wore a bespoke suit while working
in a corporation.  Around three o'clock, Luc surprised her.  He swooped her
up and carried her into the ocean.  The water was cold after laying on the
beach so long, and Molly instinctively threw her arms around his neck and
pulled him close.  She felt a few curly hairs tickling her breasts.  And
was that his lovely dick poking her in the hip as he carried her?  She
hoped it was.

   They splashed each other.  Molly clambered onto Luc's back and he began
to swim out to sea.  She was excited, scared, but willing to trust him. 
She couldn't imagine Harold carrying her out to sea.  Luc swam to a sand
bar about a hundred yard from the beach.  Luc crouched, shoulder-deep in
the water.  Gingerly, Molly lowered herself, reaching for the sandy bottom
with her foot.  When she found it, she stood.  The waves rolled past her
just below her hips.  She laughed when she realized Luc was crouched and
that the sandbar was high in the water.  She laughed, too, because she was
nervous to be standing naked before him.  He stood up and his cock jutted
above the waves.  Her eyes widened as it became tumescent.

   "Am I doing that?" she asked, with faux innocence.

   "Absolument," he said.

   Molly reached for his dick.  It was hot.  She felt it throb in her
hands. It was large, she thought, although she hadn't much experience.  "I
don't think that will fit inside me."

   Luc laughed.  "It doesn't have to."

   Molly didn't let go.  She liked the sensation in her hand.  Harold
didn't like her to fondle him.  Sex was quick and clean where they were
concerned.

   "I've always wanted to try this.  Do you mind?" she asked.  Then she
lowered her face until his knob was near her lips.  She glanced up
expecting him to stop her, but his head was tilted back.  His cock tasted
salty, which she should have expected.  His stomach muscles tensed, covered
in tiny blonde hairs.  The fleshy, warm thing in her mouth responded to her
tongue, bobbing a little and scraping against her teeth.  Against her will,
her imagination began to flood her mind with the untasted penises she had
never touched before she was married or after.  Were they as big?  Were
they as salty?  Were they as powerful?

   "Do you swallow?" he asked.

   She shrugged.  "Thure.  Whaa naah?" She answered around the cock that
was still in her mouth, not trusting to remove it.  His breath became
ragged.  He put his hands on the back of her head, but she didn't feel
trapped, just desired.  His dick trembled, so she used her tongue more
aggressively.

   Then it exploded in her mouth.  The cum pushed into her throat and kept
filling her.  She closed her lips tightly around his member, but couldn't
control herself.  She began gagging and spit into the ocean.  She wiped her
mouth with the back of her hand.

   Luc laughed and pulled her close.  "So, was that truly your first time
la fellation, sucking a dick?"

   Molly spit again and rubbed her tongue against her teeth.  "Hard to
believe, huh?"

   Luc laughed again.  "I feel very lucky, trÃ"s chanceux avec vous, to
share this experience with you.  Merci, ma cherie."

   She hugged him, enjoying his strength.  She was glad she had worked so
hard at the gym, because she felt his equal in physical development.  She
wondered what fucking him might feel like.  Well, there was always
tomorrow.

   She swung around to his back and he swam them back to the beach.  It was
near dinner time.  They collected their things.  He helped her put her
thong back on, and she helped him with his speedo.

   "See you tomorrow, Luc?"

   He looked sad.  "Ç'est domage, cherie.  I am leaving tonight.  But I
will never forget you, ma cherie.  Perhaps we'll meet again next vacation?"

   Tears filled her eyes.  "Oh, shoot.  I'm sorry.  I don't even know you.
But I'm going to miss you, Luc."

   "Enjoy the rest of your vacation.  I've grown very fond of the beauty
mark on your left breast.  May I kiss it once?  Does your husband know what
a lucky man he is?"

   Molly nodded, but couldn't say "yes."

   *****

   The next morning, Harold awoke relaxed and refreshed.  He even sang in
the shower.  "Things are going great with the kitchen remodel, honey. 
Everything is on track for our corporate party.  Let's spend the entire day
at the beach today, okay?" He wore shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, sandals and
white socks, a huge straw hat covered his head, his notebook dangled at his
side, and a pair of binoculars around his neck.

   Molly dressed in her thong bikini, grabbed her novel, beach bag, and
towel.  Harold's mouth gaped when he saw her.

   "Whoa there!  You look tremendous!  I can't wait to show you off,
honey." He kissed her cheek, then gingerly patted her behind.

   Molly walked with him to the beach, but Harold would occasionally drop
back just to watch her ass in her bikini.  When he did, he then slowed to
adjust the bulge that was shifting his shorts.  That was at least some kind
of victory, she thought.  She was tempted to stretch again, just for his
benefit.

   They went to the same part of the beach where Molly had been earlier. 
She looked around, discretely, but Luc was nowhere to be found.  She
sighed, and settled into reading her book.

   After a while she turned on her stomach.  Her rounded mounds were nicely
exposed by the thong.  She pulled out the sunscreen and offered it to
Harold.  "Would you...?"

   He held up his notebook.  "Sorry, I don't want to get that cream all
over my fingers and contaminate the notes.  You don't mind, do you, honey?"

   "I don't mind.  I just hope I don't burn." His fingers were short
anyway.

   Closer to noon, she wanted to sunbathe topless.  It was something she
had never done before this vacation, and Harold had never encouraged her to
be topless.  She was unsure how he might react.

   "Harold, would it be okay if I tanned topless?"

   Harold looked at her chest, swallowed, smiled weakly.  He looked up and
down the beach before he answered.  "Well, this is a clothing optional
beach.  It should be okay."

   "I meant, is it okay with you, Harold?"

   Harold swallowed and blushed.  "It's your body, honey.  If you feel
comfortable, then I can't prevent you."

   Molly whipped off the top.  She used a towel to wipe the sweat from her
tits, letting them wobble a bit as her nipples get hard.  But she didn't
stop there.  She slipped off the thong and tossed it to Harold.

   "Wow, smooth!" Harold licked his lips.  "Really smooth."

   "Do you think my delicate parts might burn, Harold?  Now would you rub
on some cream?" She hoped he wouldn't notice that her delicate parts were
not that white, after tanning with Luc.

   Harold held up his notebook.  "I don't think so.  Okay?"

   Molly took the sunscreen and squeezed the bottle until it plotzed a
dollop of cream.  She applied it to her mons and to her breasts,
remembering how beautiful Luc had considered her body.  Harold watched her
performance out of the side of his eyes, pretending to write in his
notebook.

   A while later, she turned on her side, still naked.  "Swim with me,
Harold.  There's a sand bar out there.  Let's go out there and watch the
world go by.  I might have a big surprise for you out there."

   "I'm not exactly dressed for swimming, honey."

   "Neither am I, Harold.  Come on.  You don't need a suit." She stood up
and spread her arms.  "You can't believe how freeing this is!" She noticed
other couples and some men gawking at her lovely body.  She smiled and gave
a quick wave to anyone looking.

   "Stop that, honey!  What kind of message are you trying to send?"

   "Come on, Harold.  Swim out there with me!"

   He lifted the binoculars strapped around his neck.  "I will keep an eye
on you."

   She stopped trying to pull him to a standing position.  She turned and
ran to the ocean, diving in.  She swam strongly about a hundred yards and
reached with her slim leg to the bottom.  Her toes felt the bar.  She stood
up.  She was exposed to below her ass, and waved back to the beach. 
Specifically, she waved to Harold, but at that distance, could anyone
really tell?  Some men on the beach stood up and began to walk to the
shoreline.  Harold stood up and waved for her to come back.

   Molly's shoulders drooped.  She dove back into the ocean and swam to
shore.  Harold met her at the waterline with a towel to cover her.  She
dried off, then refused to wear the towel.  She lay back down on the beach
next to Harold, waiting for him to come back with her to the room.

   The vacation went like this for the rest of the week.  What should have
been a relaxing vacation caused her great consternation.  Molly had hoped
to introduce Harold to her newly acquired sexual skill, but he was consumed
by his notebook.  She couldn't help looking for Luc when they went to the
beach, but he was really gone.  It didn't help that she knew Harold
expected her to host a corporate party as soon as they returned home.

   Every night, Molly spent an hour nude on the balcony, envying other
couples, waving to other single observers, and occasionally stretching with
her arms behind her head.  Then she crept into bed next to Harold, found
her precious egg, kissed it, turned it on so that it's tiny purr matched
Harold's light snores.  Her own moans and gasps punctuated the droning
sounds.

   Harold worked for a small but extremely profit business.  His coding and
algorithms were critical to its success.  He was well-regarded at the
corporation based on his increasing salary and promotions.  They had a
beautiful cars, wonderful clothes, a luxurious home with an indoor swimming
pool, a natatorium, that could be seen from the dining room and recreation
area when the retractable wall retreated revealing the clear glass.  They
even had a wine cellar.  "Thank God for the wine cellar," Molly thought. 
Harold didn't talk about his work at home, but Molly had heard through
friends that Harold could end up running the corporation within ten years.

   "Oh, great," she thought, "more vacations where I never get to see him."
Then she considered.  If she could find someone like Luc on each vacation
it might not be so bad.

   She was furious when she saw the party invitation that Harold sent out.

   "Mr.  X and guest?  Guest?  I know what that means.  Your five bosses
will arrive with someone other than their wives."

   "No, honey, you're jumping to conclusions."

   "Mistresses, girlfriends.  Lovers, same sex partners, who knows? 
Emotional support animals?"

   "Molly, you make me laugh.  Please, just relax and enjoy yourself."

   On April 1, the night of the party, Molly had a glass of wine to relax.
Okay, a few glasses of wine.  She hadn't lost her tan, thanks to a few
visits to the private tanning salon at her gym.  She wanted to flaunt her
body and her tan.  Her gown was decidedly racy.  She dared to wear no
underwear at the party.  Would anyone even notice?  The women might. 
Certainly not Harold.

   Her wine bottle was empty, so she needed to replenish.  She wrapped her
naked self in a lab coat, her everyday excuse for a robe, and headed to the
wine cellar.  She had about an hour until her "guests" arrived.

   "Plenty of time," she thought.

   But as she passed the hallway, the door chimed.  She tightened her lab
coat and answered the door.  It was the hired help, arrived to cater the
party.

   "None too early," she thought.Then she caught her breath.  The six
servers were men, and near the back of the group, was a familiar sight.  It
looked like her fantasy man, Luc.  Same broad shoulders, blond hair, long
hands and fingers.  But it couldn't be.  He looked pleasant but gave no
indication that he recognized her.  In fact, he had a faraway look in his
eyes, like he was studying something just beyond her shoulder.

   "Can't be," she told herself.  For that matter, one of the men had a
passing resemblance to her milquetoast husband, Harold.  He even wore
glasses similar to Harold's glasses.  They all looked like they were dozy
or on drugs.

   "Come on in," she said, a little sloppily.  "You'll find everything you
need through that hallway into the kitchen.  Our beautiful new kitchen."
She pointed vaguely in the general direction.

   There was a strikingly pretty young woman with them, wearing a black
gown.  "You are...?" Molly asked.

   "I'm hired to play the piano.  I'm supposed to warm up, please."

   She was a luscious brunette with a reddish highlight in her tresses. 
Her dress couldn't have been much tighter.  Her right shoulder was bare,
and the fabric swooped low over her bust.  She would have to be careful as
she played or she might just pop out of that gown.  She had dark eyes, bold
red lipstick, and perfect posture.  Her most striking adornment was a
silver choker with a precious stone fixed in the center.  The stone
captured light beneath its surface.  It's captured brilliance moved as
Molly moved.

   "Moonstone?" Molly asked.

   The poor woman looked flustered and did not answer.  "Where might I find
the piano, please?"

   Molly led her to the music room, where Harold had purchased a little
used grand piano.  Molly loved the way its dark wood shined with golden
highlights.  She had hoped that this woman would be pleasantly surprised by
the instrument's quality.  It did not impress her.  She sat down, adjusted
the seat, took a breath, relaxed her shoulders, and touched the keyboard.
She raced up and down the keyboard, playing scales and modes.  Her boobs
stayed covered.

   "What's your name, sweetie?" Molly asked.  She was being rude, but the
woman had not offered the information.

   "Perdonnez-moi.  My name is CeeCee."

   "Do you have a last name?"

   "Just call me CeeCee, please." The scales resumed.

   "This calls for another drink," Molly thought.  She continued to the
dusty, dim wine cellar.  The best wines were kept near the top shelf,
Harold's preference.  Molly climbed a metal ladder so she could reach the
good stuff.  She tucked a few bottles under her left arm and kept one more
for good measure in her right hand.  She stepped down, or attempted to step
down.  She felt dizzy, like she might fall.

   From the top of the wine cellar stairs, a voice called.  "You need a
hand, madame?"

   The voice startled her.  It sounded like Luc, but it couldn't be.  She
turned slightly to see who had spoken, and lost her balance completely.

   She toppled backwards, unable to regain her footing.  She imagined
landing on the cellar floor, amid broken glass from the bottles she
carried. But before she actually fell, the caterer was behind her, catching
her in his arms, and set her down safely.

   "Well, thank you." The bottles were still a bit awkward but she didn't
want to ask for help.

   "You need a hand, madame?"

   That voice, that accent...

   "Yes, please," she said.

   One arm cradled her to prevent her from falling, the other slipped to
her front, unfastened one button on the white lab coat, and tucked his hand
inside.  His fingers found her bare skin and her mons.

   "If only this were Luc!" she thought before she decided to fire the
caterer on the spot.  "Cheeky bastard." But his fingers were skilled and
gentle.  He remained behind her, but separated the folds of her labia
easily.  One long finger rested there, waiting for Molly to get wet.  It
didn't take long.

   His finger moved softly, but incredibly rapidly.  It delved deeply
without pressure.  Molly felt as though she were pulling him into her.  His
swift finger might have been her precious egg.  He found her little man in
the canoe deep inside.  He didn't stop his rapid movement, accomplished
without moving the rest of his arm.

   Molly sighed and gave herself over to the sensation.  He didn't try to
remove her lab coat or touch her anywhere else.  He focused on one spot,
her spot, and he was greatly accomplished at satisfying her.

   She caught her breath once, twice, then several times quickly.  She
shook with pleasure.  The man behind her wasn't affected by her enjoyment.
He went about his task quietly, efficiently, thoroughly.  He showed no
signs of tiring or quitting.

   Molly found her tight voice and spoke to him.  "That's enough.  Thank
you.  Thank you."

   "Is that all you require, madame?"

   "Well, you could carry some of these bottles up stairs, if you would."

   "Certainly, madame."

   At the top of the stairs, her lab coat primly adjusted but her legs
still a bit wobbly, she thanked him again.

   "Is that all you will require, madame?"

   "Yes, I think so.  No, wait.  Let me ask you.  What is your name?"

   He smiled, but his eyes looked slightly past her still.  Perhaps he was
on drugs.  Perhaps they all were.

   "Please call me Luc, madame."

   "No!"

   "Luc is my name, please."

   He even had the accent.

   He turned quickly and returned to the kitchen.

   Upstairs, Harold had finished dressing.  He looked spiffy in a tuxedo.
He straightened his bow tie, not watching Molly at all.  She removed her
lab coat and hung it up.  She walked naked through the bedroom and gathered
her gown.  She slipped into it.  Harold didn't notice her clothed or
unclothed.

   "Could you zip me?" Her gown hung seductively off her tan shoulders,
barely covering the points of her breasts.  Harold made no comment.  He
pulled the sides of the gown closer and zipped it up.  The gown was
designed to hug her hips and accent her breasts.  If she wasn't careful,
she might just pop out of the gown.  It had been tailored to cinch her
narrow waist and give the impression of an hourglass figure.  It felt
great, looked stunning in the mirror, but it made no impression on Harold.

   He wrung his hands.  "I'm sorry, dear, I'm just nervous."

   The doorbell chimed.  The guests had arrived.

   Five couples had arrived, dressed in formal attire.  The party was
extravagant, luxurious, and it was occurring in her own home for the first
time.Four of the men who worked with Harold carried a notebook.  They
greeted her with a smile and a handshake.  They introduced their "guests"
without any embarrassment or hesitation.  Molly wondered where their wives
were tonight.  At least, all five escorts looked like women to her.

   Short Gigi wore a diaphanous gown, which did little to conceal her
small, perky chest.  Her black hair was cut short.  Even the high heels on
which she tottered didn't give her any height advantage.  Her escort smiled
like a sophomore as he took her arm and guided her into the hallway.

   The next lady was taller, bouncy, with flowing red hair and freckles
splattered on her shoulders and chest.  She wore a green gown, because
don't all redheads wear green?  And she had a wide smile.  Around her neck,
she had a silver choker with an emerald at the center.  Definitely Irish.

   "What a beautiful necklace!" Molly said to her.  The woman, whose name
was DeeDee, giggled and said, "It was a gift from him." She pointed to her
escort, who pulled her none-too-gently into the home.

   The next woman, named Fifi, also had a choker with a ruby.  It was just
like DeeDee's.  Molly looked back and saw that Gigi wore a matching choker,
with a sapphire attached.

   Molly wondered if Harold had forgotten to give her the corporate memo
that "guests" like her were supposed to be adorned in a choker with a
precious jewel.

   Fifi was tall and svelte, green eyes, sensuous mouth, with prominent
cheeks above narrow cheeks.  She had long, long, straight brown hair, and
long, long dark lashes.  Her gown was little more than a shift, beginning
well above her knees and ending just above her emaciated breasts.  Fifi
looked like a model.  Her escort rather heavy and was pleased to be seen
with her as a guest.

   "Welcome to our home," Molly said.

   ChiChi had short, dark hair, a short dress, and an amethyst choker.  Her
date pushed glasses up on the bridge of his nose, alternately smiling and
frowning as he escorted her.

   There was only one couple left to come in.  The woman laughed loudly,
punching her escort on the arm before he headed back to the limo to
retrieve something.  She was blonde, blessed with an abundance of chest,
wide hips that swayed when she moved, and the tiniest possible waist.  Her
gown must have been made of some kind of stretchy fabric because it stuck
very close to her every curve and sensuously revealed her wondrous frame.
If she had any flaws or imperfections, the gown would not have hid them. 
Instead, she smiled brightly, confident in her sensuality and sexuality. 
Her choker was topped with a diamond, appropriate for her date with the man
who headed the corporation.

   Molly couldn't stop staring at her breasts.  They were not only large,
but they seemed perfectly round and symmetrical.  The little buttons at the
tips were taut and not hampered by the stretchy gown.  They reminded her of
the algorithms and graphs she had seen in Harold's notebook.  They had to
implants.  And it might be rude, but it was Molly's home, and she had been
drinking a little, and she did wonder, so she asked Bibi, "Who is your
plastic surgeon?  What did those cost?"

   Bibi threw her head back and laughed loudly.  "Honey, this is all
original equipment.  I haven't had any complaints yet.  And look at
yourself.  You're a pretty little thing." Bibi patted Molly's arm like a
doting aunt.  "You've got nothing to be ashamed of, dearie." She laughed
loudly again.

   Molly turned back to the door.  Bibi's escort had returned from the
limousine and stood at the entryway.  Molly caught her breath and couldn't
speak.

   Those broad shoulders, those long fingers, those eyes, that smile...

   "Oh, bonjour, Molly," Luc said.  "What a pleasant surprise, ma cherie.
Do I understand that you are our hostess this evening.  You have a lovely
home."

   Harold appeared at her side and greeted Luc warmly.

   Molly's mind swirled.  Slowly she sorted things out.  First, all of
these women were much too young for their escorts.  "Guests" indeed!  She
wondered when Harold's guest would arrive.

   Then she happened to look at CeeCee, the pianist.  She was doing a jazz
version of "Who's Sorry Now?" Earlier she had played "What Kind of Fool Am
I?" and "Didn't We?" Was she trying to tell her something?

   She, too, wore a choker.  Molly had noticed it earlier, but it hadn't
seemed significant.  Now, given that all the women wore one, it meant a
great deal.  And that gem -"a moonstone -"a very subtle hint.

   It was all so clear to her.  Six women in chokers for six corporate
officers.  She was the outsider.  No wonder Harold had shown so little
interest in her since he was boinking little Miss Fluttering Arpeggio
Fingers.  Too bad Harold would never learn that Molly had recently
discovered her own musical ability.  She could perform on the skin flute
and looked forward to practicing her skills.  His loss.

   But how dare they!  How bold to come into her house with her own home!
April Fool's indeed!

   The caterers circulated with drinks and hors d'oeuvres.  The ambient
sound of conversation rose around her, although no one was addressing her.
She tried to get Harold's attention, but he was sharing jokes with the
other men.  Only Luc was apart from the others, observing the flow of the
party.  But he occasionally stared at Molly, too.

   He approached her cautiously.  "You throw a lovely affair, ma cherie."

   "I don't like to be made a fool of in my own home.  I should throw you
all out of here.  It's sickening."

   "Don't be so hasty.  The evening may prove interesting."

   "Hah!" she said.  "Hah!  If Harold's career weren't so important to him,
I would toss you all out of here."

   Luc shook his head.

   Molly got sober suddenly and stood directly in front of Luc.  "Let me
ask you something.  I'm not sure it matters, but I want to know.  Did you
know who I was when we met on the island?  Did you know who my husband
was?"

   "You told me you were married when we met.  You were alone on a
beautiful island.  That was sufficient.  I hope you can look back on our
time as un beau souvenir, a beautiful memory, ma cherie."

   "How can you and my husband work together any longer?"

   "Why?  Have you told him about us?"

   "No!  My God, I would never..." Molly shook her head, unsure where she
wanted to take this conversation.  "You think this is one big joke, don't
you?"

   "Well," Luc said with a sardonic grin, "it is April Fool's today.  In
France, we crown the King of Fools."

   "Well, that's me.  I hope you're having a wonderful laugh."

   The caterers announced that dinner was ready and the couples started
toward the dining room.  Luc and Molly stayed behind.

   "I don't think I can eat with you," she said.

   "I understand.  Wait, let me show you something." Luc took her by the
arm and guided her to the music room, next to CeeCee.  The music she played
was "I've Got You Under My Skin."

   "I don't want to listen to this."

   "Don't you notice anything, ma cherie?  Take a close look at her.  The
hair, the eyes, the figure..."

   Molly's lips were set tightly, but she did study the woman, who showed
no interest that they were near.  "She's beautiful.  What is she supposed
to be, Harold's little plaything?  Someone he can replace me with?"

   Luc shook his head.  "Don't you see how closely she resembles you?  She
is you!  Wait, let me show you."

   Luc went behind CeeCee.  He put his hands on her shoulders, the one
bare, the other lightly clothed.  She continued playing.  Then he
unfastened something on her clothed shoulder.  The fabric fell away to her
waist, revealing both breasts.  She was as tan as Molly.

   "Remarkable, no?"

   "So, she she likes to tan naked.  Big deal.  So do I, now."

   "She is you, exactly, ma cherie.  She is mine."

   Molly looked at her again.  "I don't think I ever looked that good."

   "Look at her left breast, slightly to the left.  You see it?  Your mole.
The beauty mark.  I gave it to her to add an air of authenticity and
verisimilitude.  I seem to recall that you have such a beauty mark, too."

   Molly began to blush.  It was true.  The woman was trying to duplicate
her.  Even though her breasts were entirely exposed, she didn't miss a
beat. She didn't seem at all embarrassed that the others might come from
the dining room and see her, either.  "This sick!  What do you have to pay
a woman to undergo such extensive plastic surgery, to be changed like
that?"

   "This is the future."

   Everyone grew tired of waiting for Luc and Molly, and had left the
dining room to come and see where they were.  They found them in the music
room.  CeeCee didn't seem to mind that she was half-dressed as she played.
She smiled at the guests as they entered the music room, still holding a
far-away look in her eyes.  The men averted their eyes at first, then since
nothing changed, returned a smile to the half-clothed pianist.  Curiously,
the women were not affected by CeeCee's dishabille.  They clung to their
dates' arms, as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

   "Why don't they stand up for the poor girl?" Molly asked Luc.  Even her
own husband had not interceded on CeeCee's behalf.

   "Ah, ma cherie, because it is nothing new to them.  Don't you see? 
These are not real women.  They are toys, surrogates, a diversion.  We've
developed them to be life-like, although there are still some hiccups.  We
cannot get their eyes to focus always.  They do not feel real empathy or
sympathy."

   "Then what good are they, really?" she asked.

   "Lonely men want some sort of companionship.  They want to be seen
escorting beautiful women to parties.  It enhances their self-esteem."

   Molly gave a snarky look, one side of her mouth curled.  "And I suppose
you've designed them to accommodate more prurient lusts and desires of your
male clients."

   "That goes without saying.  Many men will even buy blow-up inflatable
dolls.  These creatures are so very much more...satisfying, you see?"

   "Disgusting!" Molly turned and began to walk to the staircase.  On the
way, she saw that Harold was still carrying his notebook.  She grabbed it
and opened it.  She understood more what the curvy sine waves represented,
what the various paired circles described, and what some of the darker
illustrations might be.  She threw the book down and slapped his face. 
Harold looked completely surprised.

   Luc called to her.  "Wait, ma cherie.  Don't leave before you get the
full presentation." He touched Molly gently at the elbow and led her back
to the room.  The piano music continued, "What Kind of Fool Am I?" playing.

   "We have not only designed these surrogates for our male customers.  You
have been attended to by the kind of automaton that we think will equally
appeal to female customers."

   "What?" Molly was aghast.  She remembered the incident in the wine
cellar.  Was that a cyborg?  He was cold, not very sensitive, but he sure
was effective in "lending her a hand." She looked at Luc carefully.  "Are
you so arrogant that you designed a doll in your own image?"

   Luc flushed before answering.  "I was comfortable that many women have
enjoyed my company, and might enjoy me in their own home.  No?"

   She turned to Harold.  "You knew about this?  You allowed these
abominations into our home?  What kind of a monster are you?  I feel so
violated.  Our home has been profaned."

   "I can send everyone home, honey," Harold whispered.  "But admit it. 
You were fooled.  You didn't know they were anything but real women and
caterers, right?  That's why we needed to retrofit the kitchen, so the
caterers could recognize the tools and the equipment."

   Molly turned to Luc.  He had shrunk in her esteem, a craven,
money-hungry entrepreneur who pandered to the basest desires of men and
women.

   "Before you kick us all out, may I demonstrate, ma cherie?" he asked.

   "What's to demonstrate?  How foolish I was to trust you?  Or my husband?
What is this world coming to?"

   Luc smiled.  "That is what I wanted to show you!" He clapped his hands
sharply twice to get the ladies' attention.  He pointed to the blue glow
that suffused the east wing of the room.  Beyond that room was the swimming
pool.  Harold knew what Luc wanted and activated a switch near the door. 
The wall that separated the swimming area and the living room opened up,
leaving clear glass between the two rooms.  The blue water rippled with the
spray that kept the water fresh.  Molly smelled the chlorine she preferred
to keep trapped in the natatorium.

   "Ladies, how would you like to spend some time in the pool?  Carefully
store your gowns, si vous plait."

   Molly's jaw dropped as the women began to carefully, and shamelessly,
undress.  She was amazed how life-like they were, how natural.  Their
breasts even jiggled a bit.  Most of the women had pubic hair, but hair
nowhere else.  Only Gigi, the small-breasted one who had worn the
diaphanous gown, was completely smooth shaven.  From Molly's perspective,
her vagina seemed perfectly natural.

   The women trotted into the natatorium completely naked.  They chatted a
bit, but the sounds were unintelligible.  Molly discretely checked their
backsides.  They looked completely human, too.

   "You are wondering, perhaps, can these gorgeous dolls be used the same
way as a real woman?  Are all their openings useful?"

   "Disgusting!"

   "They are, ma cherie!  Husbands can make demands upon these works of art
that they would never dare with their own spouses."

   "Ugh." She wanted to vomit.

   The women splashed each other in the pool, laughing and bouncing as they
fluttered in the pool.  "Why are they so careful to keep their heads above
water?" she asked.

   Her husband answered.  "It's not that they water will make them rust or
anything.  They are completely immersible.  They are programmed to avoid
messing their hair style too much.  It takes too long for them to recover.
Smart, isn't it, honey?"

   Molly shook her head.  Not only was she appalled that the automatons
were frolicking nude in her pool, but all of the men with notebooks had
their noses pressed against the glass to watch.  Even Harold.  They were
taking notes.

   All the men except Luc, who remained with Molly.

   "You are angry," he said.

   "I'm too confused and disappointed to angry.  What kind of world is
this?"

   "I understand, ma cherie." He clapped his hands twice and summoned the
caterers.

   "I'll let them join in the party, no?"

   "What?  Will they flirt with the women?  Somehow I doubt it."

   "No, they will not flirt with the women.  They won't even know women are
in the pool, except to avoid collisions."

   "Don't send them into the pool," she said.

   "Not even the one called 'Luc'?" he said with a sly smile.

   "Don't bother.  I've seen it."

   The male guests were doing what she had often seen Harold do -"making
notes concerning their observations.  They talked to each other, pointed
out behavior that they had not entirely anticipated, and made their
precious notes.

   "We cannot forget my CeeCee, can we, ma cherie?  CeeCee, stop playing
the piano.  You may go to the pool.  I'll guide you."

   CeeCee slipped gracefully out of her gown.  Molly focused on the beauty
spot on her left mole.  That was like hers.  Was the rest of her an exact
copy?  It was hard to be judge your own body dispassionately.

   When CeeCee was completely nude, Luc offered her his arm.  The notebook
men took notice, jostling each other with their elbows to draw attention to
the beautiful specimen.  They acted as though they had never seen this
robot disrobed before.

   Suddenly, Molly felt exposed herself.  They were looking at her exact
copy, her doppelgänger.  They might as well have been spying on her in the
shower.

   The women congregated in the shallow part of the pool.  When Bibi stood,
her large, gravity-defying boobs were completely exposed.  When she walked,
they bumped together.  DeeDee's freckles were everywhere on her body. 
Fifi, the long brunette, showed half her hips when she was standing.  She
cocked one leg and put her hand on her hip.  If she had a cigarette, she
would have smoked it.  ChiChi was short, she sat on the edge of the pool,
kicking her legs to splash the others.  Gigi swung her arms in circles
around her, laughing.

   CeeCee, guided by Luc, entered the pool gracefully, gliding forward,
keeping her head high.  She joined the women in the shallow end of the
pool.

   Molly noticed that none of the women had removed their chokers.  She
would have to ask Harold about that later.

   All the men gathered by the glass that showed the shallow end of the
pool.  Luc was inside the natatorium, but not in the pool.  He smiled at
her, inviting her to appreciate his collection of life-like dolls.

   Molly felt violated.  Her pool was overrun with these creatures.  Her
home had become a showroom for gawking.  Luc had used her image to create
his own private playmate.  And Harold, her own husband, was clueless or
just too scared to protect her.

   She poured herself a glass of wine and downed it in one swallow.  She
wondered how long this show could last.  As she stood their watching them,
she felt increasingly angry.  How dare they presume to replace a real woman
with a doll!  How pathetic must the purchasers be who purchased such
equipment.  How dismal the scientists, mathematicians, and sculptors who
crafted these synthetic women.

   They were synthetic.  Probably not a one of the men truly appreciated a
woman.  She felt that all woman-kind had been insulted and slighted by
these toys.

   She poured and drank another full wineglass.  She watched the immature
boys gawking at the artificial woman and made a choice.  She would demand
their attention.  Let them see what a real woman looked like.

   She was confident in her appearance.  Months of cycling classes and gym
work had toned her.  The week at the exclusive island had given her new
daring and confidence.  It's not like she hasn't been seen nude before.

   She would do it.

   She walked into the pool area, staying toward the deep end of the pool.
Her husband gave her a quick wave, then returned to watching the plastic
bimbos.  She waved back.

   She kicked off her shoes.  She was glad she had worn no undergarments;
it would seem awkward removing them.  Like some kind of striptease.  No,
she just wanted to be nude, to revel in the glory that attached to every
woman.  She started at the hem of her gown and lifted it up.  Soon, her
toned, tan thighs were visible.

   Some of the men turned their head.

   She lifted until her round ass was exposed.  She stopped to get a better
grip.

   A few men drifted in her direction to get a better look.

   Molly raised the gown until her breasts were also in full view.  With a
quick movement, she removed the gown entirely.  She stood, posed like the
goddess in Birth of Venus, one knee bent, her hips akimbo.

   The men applauded.  She heard them through the glass, and turned so they
could get a full view of a real woman's body.  Luc ran along the edge of
the pool to her.

   "Ma cherie, what has possessed you?  Have you no shame?"

   "This is the way you saw me, Luc, and you didn't complain.  Do you think
the other men will really be bothered?"

   Luc turned around signaling wildly to get Harold's attention, trying to
get him to close the wall, make the glass opaque again.  But Harold was
watching his works of art that adorned the shallow end of the pool.

   The men began to disrobe, ready to join in the pool fun.  They even
dropped their notepads.  All but Harold.

   Luc locked the door to keep them out.

   "I wouldn't do that," Molly said, dripping water over her shoulders and
letting it run down her tits, "It's going to get steamy in here." Already
the room had become a little foggy.  Condensation collected on the glass,
obscuring the view.

   Molly was grateful that the view was becoming less clear.  Not because
she was embarrassed or ashamed.  She was repulsed by the naked bodies of
the men lined up along the glass.  Some of the men had begun to play with
themselves.  "I really don't need to see that," she thought.

   Harold stayed dressed and made notes.  He wiped the glass so he had a
small peephole to see his darlings.  All the other men lined up closest to
the deep end, their faces pressed against the glass, watching her.  Only
Luc, the King of Fools, was inside the steamy natatorium, watching a real
woman with a mole on her left breast.