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 ï>¿Window Dressing - The Next Chapter by DawnR

   A couple who enjoy exhibitionism push the boundaries too far.

   Does a couple's shared love of voyeurism and exhibitionism ever excuse
the crossing of marital boundaries?

   My name is Jane and for the reasons that will become apparent you can
simply think of me as Jane Doe.  The story I am now narrating happened
about eighteen months after the events I described earlier.  I had wanted
to put those events behind me, but after I confessed them to my husband
Paul, he found them hard to forget.

   Not in the sense that he blamed me.  Quite the contrary.  But while I
considered my exhibitionist behavior shameful, mostly for the lack of
self-control it revealed, he found it highly stimulating and would whisper
things to me while we were making love.  I admit that it could excite me if
I were I in the right mood.  At other times I just wished he would leave it
be.

   My book club (all women) had just finished a book that involved a
romantic fantasy.  and one of them brought the subject of sexual fantasies
to a more personal level by saying she has fantasies and dreams that she
could never share.

   Joanie said used to feel she that way but since she has shared them with
her husband things have been so much better.  Olive said she hardly ever
has them and tries to suppress them, as she thinks they are dirty and
destructive.

   My friend Pam said, "What about you Jane how's your sex life?"

   "Same old, same old; Paul and I share some fantasies, but we are kind of
recycling them, but they don't have the same power as when they were
fresh."

   "Have you and Paul discussed that?  I think you should tell him.'

   "No, we haven't discussed it, but I think he feels the same."

   "You should discuss it.  It might do wonders."

   "Really?" I thought but didn't respond.

   Don't get me wrong, Paul and I both have strong sex drives and fuck like
rabbits, but even though we take the time to help each other get off, it
can get a bit mechanical.  Paul once suggested we try swinging, but to my
mind that is a slippery slope.

   As I may have mentioned in my earlier account that while business trips
were few and far between for me (I have not been on one since), Paul has
many of them.  He has confessed that since my trip he usually takes the
time to look out of his bedroom window in the hope of seeing a woman or a
couple in a state of deshabille, if not explicit sexual activity.  To his
frustration and disgust to this point nothing that could remotely titillate
him has happened.

   None of this was on my mind when three weeks before my fortieth birthday
he announced that he had a business trip to San Francisco for five days and
would have to leave Friday.

   "Lucky you," I said.

   It's a place we have always talked of visiting.  Of course, Paul has
been there before, but only on business.

   "Well, as we've always wanted to go, I thought it would be nice if you
could come with me."

   "Won't it be terribly expensive?"

   "We'll have to pay for most of our meals, but Fergusson said the company
will cover your airfare and also buy us a nice dinner one night. 
Recognition of the business I have brought in and the amount of away time
it has entailed.  Obviously, the room is covered."

   "Wow!  that's really nice.  It's good to see they value you.  Well done!
sweetheart!  I am so excited."

   x-x-x-x-x

   We caught an early flight on Friday morning and with the two-hour time
difference arrived at our hotel close to Union Square just after 10am.  Of
course, our room was not ready, so we left our bags with the hotel and
headed out to explore.

   Paul knew his way around a bit, and so the first thing we did was ride
the famous cable cars.  We visited the cable car museum and learned about
their history and then continued to the end of the line, the Powell Mason
Turnaround, where we grabbed a coffee and listened to some street
musicians.

   Next, we took a cab to Fisherman's Wharf where we strolled around until
we had built up an appetite for some lunch.

   x-x-x-x-x

   By the time we got back to the hotel our room was ready.  It was on the
pool level which is several floors up.  Our room had a king bed and looked
out on a small patio that led to a wide-open area, in which the pool was
located.  By now we were both ready to unpack our suitcases and relax.  We
had been resting for maybe twenty minutes when the phone rang.  Paul
answered it and spoke briefly.  Replacing the phone he turned and said, "I
have an early meeting tomorrow it should not be for more than a couple of
hours.  I have to meet the other panelists and review the facilities and
the agenda."

   By now I already knew that 'the business' was an important industry
conference, and that Paul would both be doing one of the presentations and
participating in a panel of subject matter experts.  My husband the expert.
I was proud of him.

   "While I'm gone maybe you can enjoy the pool.  That reminds me I bought
you a little something."

   He went to his suitcase and threw something white at me.  At first, I
thought it was lingerie, but it turns out to be a bikini.

   "A little advance gift for your upcoming birthday.  Try it on, honey."

   I did, worrying that his buying a bikini without me would not work out
well.  However, I was agreeably surprised.  It wasn't a piece of floss. 
Although it was French cut, very high on the thigh, it provided a fairly
full coverage of my hoo-ha and also adequately covered both butt cheeks. 
It was a stunning white, but I noted that it was lined where it matters.  I
also noted that I should give my pussy hairs a trim before I wore it
outside.

   "You've still got it, babe," he said, and I have.  I do yoga and work
out, watch what I eat as a rule, although I am blessed with a great
metabolism.  And of course, we've never had kids.  Turned out Paul shoots
blanks.  As I've said it certainly doesn't mean he doesn't like sex or
can't get it up.  That's never been a problem.  He produces plenty of semen
just no sperm, sort of nature's vasectomy.  Saves on birth control anxiety
and condoms.

   He's not as buff as I am, but then he doesn't work at it.  I mean we
both play tennis regularly, but for him that's mostly it.  Not that I mind.
I still find him quite sexy, if a little predictable, But he sure knows
which buttons to push to get me to an orgasm, and he rarely puts his own
satisfaction above mine.  How rare is that?

   "I love it," I said, and went over and gave him a kiss.  After that the
bikini did not stay on for long.  We were both naked and making out on the
bed when I realized the black-out curtains and the sheers were both wide
open.  I got up.

   "Where are you going?"

   "I'm just going to close the curtains."

   "Leave it, who cares?  Come back and suck me you little exhibitionist."

   I took a quick look and the pool area looked deserted.

   "What the hell!" I turned and climbed back on the bed.  The blow job
turned into a sixty-nine and that turned into a vigorous fuck, while Paul
told me he imagined he was fucking me on a nude beach with a crowd
gathering around.  That's one of his favorite fantasies.  Just before he
came Paul pulled out and had me kneel and swallow his cum.

   When I looked again it was getting dark and I could see some people
moving about but nobody nearby.  I had a moment of tingly excitement as I
checked.  I was pretty sure we had not been seen unless somebody in the
rooms on the higher floors opposite had good binoculars.  I did not say so.
Why disappoint Paul?

   I looked at the time.  A quarter past five.  The hotel had made us
reservations for seven at an upmarket Italian restaurant.  They said we
could walk there in around fifteen minutes.  I don't know about Paul, but
it is time for me to shower and get ready.

   Of course, Paul had to get in the shower with me and that slowed us both
down, but I still had ample time to dress without getting in a panic.  Paul
shaved as he had not had time to do so before we left for the airport.  We
left the hotel at six-forty all dressed up with somewhere to go.

   x-x-x-x-x

   I woke up at ten to eight after a great night's sleep to find Paul
heading for the door.  The curtains were open, and the sun was shining.

   "Oh good, you are awake.  I'm leaving now.  I should be back around
ten-thirty if not sooner."

   I blew him a kiss and got up to head to the bathroom.  As I finished my
pee, my phone beeped.  I washed my hands and read the message, "ordered you
room service breakfast.  No rush.  Love Paul."

   That was nice of him.  I decided I should grab a quick shower before
breakfast arrived.  I sleep naked, unless the room is really cold, which
this room certainly wasn't.  As I showered, I thought about the great
restaurant we had been to, the food had been amazing.  But it had not
stopped Paul wanting to go down on me as soon as we were back in the room.

   "I thought you would have had enough to eat.  Just let me go and have a
pee."

   I had washed my hands and pussy and Paul had steered me over towards the
bed as soon as I emerged.  I noticed the coverlet had been folded down and
just the bedside lights were on, but they were quite bright enough.  He
unzipped my dress and let it fall to the floor as he attacked my bra.  Then
he had turned me around, knelt and slid my panties down my legs.  I stepped
out of them as he pushed me back on the bed.

   "Aren't you in a holiday mood?" I had quipped, but truth to tell so was
I.

   I was indeed feeling playful, as he but I had clamped my mouth shut when
he ceased his little nibbles on my labia and began seriously lapping my
clit.  Then his tongue was probing me and before I knew it, he had
unwrapped the little pillow chocolate.  He slipped it where his tongue had
been and proceeded to eat it in tiny bites.

   We had continued to pleasure each other for another half hour or
thereabouts.  Only when we finished, did I realize the curtains were
partially open.  I looked at Paul and he just grinned.  I'm sure they had
been closed before I went for my pee.

   I had finished washing, but the shower was still running and, as my
reminiscences faded, I found my hand had wandered between my legs.  It's an
embarrassing habit I have when my mind is on sex.  Who knows what I might
have done next, but that's when I heard a knock on the bedroom door?  I
shut off the shower and grabbed my towel from the rack.  As I started to
quickly dry myself there was a louder knock.

   "Coming," I shouted.  As I left the bathroom my towel caught on the door
handle.  As I turned to free it, I heard the bedroom door open.  I turned
round in surprise.  The room service waiter was no less surprised to see a
half-dry naked woman full frontal before him.

   "I heard you say, 'come in'," he said, after a moment's hesitation.

   "I shouted 'coming'."

   I laughed and started to wrap myself in the now freed towel.  He wheeled
in the trolley brought me the check to sign, which I managed without
mishap, and he left.  All very professional.  But it still gave me a little
tingle.  I wondered if he thought I had contrived it.

   I saw myself in the mirror and it reminded me I needed to trim my pussy
before I went out.  In the end I decided to give myself a beach shave.  It
was usually Paul's job, and he would be disappointed, but he could touch it
up in a day or two.

   By the time I had finished, my pussy lips were shaved clean, and I had
just left a neatly trimmed triangle of my bush on my mons pointing down to
my kingdom of earthly delights.  I noticed I hadn't colored it with my hair
color as I usually do, but, so what, no one, but Paul was going to see it.

   After I finished drying myself, I sat down on a dry towel to enjoy my
breakfast.  Still naked, I popped the breakfast trolley out into the
corridor.  Now I was being naughty even if no one saw me.  Clearly my
hormones were in holiday overdrive.

   When I was dressed, I opened the patio door.  It was nine fifteen and
the sun was already hot.  It was going to be a glorious day.  I went to the
bedroom door and looked out.  The trolley was already gone.  The elevator
doors a few doors down opened, and a young man came out.  He saw me and
gave me a dazzling smile.

   "Good morning, it looks like a wonderful day."

   "Yes," I replied, "I think I might head for the pool."

   "Good idea," he said, as he let himself into the next room but one.

   It was a good idea.  I quickly stripped again and put on my new bikini.
I thought of taking one of the complementary beach robes, and then thought
I might slip on my sundress.  In the end after putting on my sunglasses, I
decided the bikini was respectable enough and just took a bag with some
water, a book, and my room card.

   I had been going to leave by the patio door, but Paul had said the hotel
had advised against it unless you were just sitting on your patio area. 
There was no way to lock it from outside.  So, I went through the corridor
to the nearest exit.  There weren't many people around and I had no trouble
finding a lounger.  I took a towel from the shelf, spread it out and sat
down.

   I read for a little while, It was quite a raunchy thriller, and it
wasn't just the sun that was making me hot.  Time to cool off.

   The swim did just that.  The pool was refreshingly cool after that first
cold shock you get in entering.  More people were showing up as I did my
lengths, but the pool was not crowded.

   I lay back and let myself float.

   "You were right.  Great day for a swim," said a voice behind me.

   I put my feet down and promptly came up spluttering.  I had drifted out
of the shallow end.  It was, of course, the young man from the elevator.

   "Wow, nice swimsuit," he was laughing with that fabulous smile on his
face.  His skin was very pale, seemingly untouched by the sun, but I
noticed his abs were lean and tight.  He must work out.

   "Yes, it is," I said, wiping my eyes.

   "You are absolutely gorgeous.  I'm Mark by the way."

   "I'm Jane, just plain Jane, and I am not gorgeous although I like to
think I'm in good shape."

   "Well, you are anything but plain.  You exude a charismatic vitality."

   Wasn't he the smooth talker?  I noticed he was struggling to maintain
eye contact, and as I looked down, I discovered why.  Despite the lining
the top had become almost translucent.  I could see my dark nipples
pointing right at him

   "Oh crap!" I said out loud wondering if Paul had known it would do this.
Of course, my comment only made more people turn and look at me.

   "Sorry," I said, and headed for the pool steps.  Once out I headed to my
lounger and the towel lying on it.  Halfway there a thought struck me, and
I looked down again.  Did I say, 'almost translucent'?  It was completely
transparent, I could see the whole of my breasts, even the mole just above
the left one.  Fearfully I looked more closely.  My breasts are barely more
than a B cup but perky and I like them.  A properly fitted C cup is more
comfortable for my outrageous nipples.

   Looking further I did not have to bend forward much to see my worst
fears were realized.  The bottoms were as transparent as the top.  My
freshly shaved puss lips were visible and the triangular patch of bush that
remained gave a lie to my auburn locks.  I knew I should have coloured it.

   I looked up to see Paul standing about twenty feet away looking
appalled. I guess he was as surprised as I was by his magically vanishing
bikini.  I mean the bikini was still there, but it might just as well not
have been.  As I looked, he suddenly turned away and I grabbed the towel
from the lounger and wrapped it around me.

   "Here," it was Mark handing me a fresh towel.

   "Thanks," I said taking it and spreading it on the lounger.

   "That was embarrassing.  It's the first time I've worn it." I realized
that he had probably had a great view of my bum crack as I left the pool
but probably not my puss.

   I sat down and he went into a crouch beside me.

   "Did I tell you are gorgeous?  I would love to paint you."

   Well, I had to admire his chutzpah.

   "Are you an artist?"

   "Yes, I'm just in town for a show of my work at a local gallery.  I live
in the North."

   "Like Canada?"

   "No, in California but close to the Oregon border.  Are you in town on
business?"

   I nodded.  "Minding my own," I thought.

   "Listen.  As I say I have this show and the opening is tonight.  If you
like art I would be really pleased if you could accompany me.  It will be
quite dressy the gallery is very upmarket."

   I do like art, and I was tempted, but I did not know what Paul was
planning for us.

   "Think about it.  You know my room.  You can call me if you would like
to go."

   Wrapped in the towel I read for another twenty minutes or so, and when I
peeped under the towel, I could see that my almost dry bikini was quite
respectable again.

   x-x-x-x-x

   When I got back to the room, Paul immediately said, "I see you have
picked up an admirer." Rather than annoyed he seemed pleased.

   "Is that why you hurried away?"

   "Did you tell him you were married?"

   "It didn't come up.  I've hardly talked to him."

   "Well, you had your heads together."

   "He's an artist who has a show in town.  In fact, he invited me to go
with him to the opening tonight."

   "You should go, you like art."

   "And leave you alone.  That doesn't seem fair."

   "Maybe, I'll go too, but separately."

   "What!  so you can spy on us?  I don't think so."

   "Come on it will be hot."

   "You expect me to flirt with him?"

   "Come on, he's an attractive guy who is clearly into you."

   "Well, thanks to you I was wearing a bikini that might just as well not
have been there.  That would have got any man's attention if he still had a
pulse."

   "Well, your choice but I think you should go.  Holidays are for
adventures."

   I was a bit pissed at his attitude, but I left it be.  I wouldn't mind
going so maybe I should.  If I did, I promised myself Paul better like art
or he is going to be very, very bored.

   By the time I got dressed I said to Paul, "If you want me to, I'll go. I
just need to call Mark, and then let's get out and see some more of this
town."

   I called Mark's room and was surprised when he picked up.  I thought I
would just be leaving a message.

   "Turns out I'm free this evening and would love to see your show."

   "Great, maybe we can have dinner together first."

   "I'd like that," I said.  "Where shall we eat, I don't think there is
anywhere in the hotel?  "

   "There are plenty of restaurants near by.  I'll meet you at six thirty
in the lobby bar."

   I turned round.  Paul was giving me a quizzical look.

   "I'm going, and I'm going to have dinner with him first."

   Rather than disappointed, he looked pleased.  I wasn't sure I liked
that.

   Paul and I took a cab to Pier 34 and found a place to eat a quick lunch
before getting on a tour of Alcatraz.  The tour took a good three hours, so
it was a few minutes to five when we got back to our hotel room.

   As soon as we walked in, I saw the message light on our phone was
flashing.  I picked it up, hit speakerphone and listened.

   "Hi Jane, this is Mark.  I am at the gallery.  Slight change of plans. I
have booked us a dinner reservation at a bistro within walking distance of
the gallery, so I can be sure to be here for eight.  The gallery owner has
a well-known Art critic coming to heap praise on me at the opening
reception.  It is all going to be posh, so please dress-up, if you are
still agreeable to come.  I so hope you are.  I will be returning to the
hotel to change, and I now need to meet you in the lobby bar at six
fifteen. Leave me a message on the room phone to let me know your decision.
Hoping it's yes, Mark."

   "What do you think?  Should I still go?"

   "Sure," said Paul.

   "I think you planned to spy on us, but now you won't be able to watch us
at dinner."

   "That might have been awkward anyway.  I'll come to the gallery, I'm
sure I can find out where it is."

   "So, I should call him and say 'yes'?"

   "Of course, I think we can both have fun."

   "All right."

   I picked had put down the phone.  Now I picked it up and dialled his
room.

   "Hi, it's Mark speaking." Again, I had expected to leave a message.

   "Oh, hi Mark.  It's Jane.  I'm just calling to say I just picked up your
message and I would love to come to dinner and the opening."

   "Oh, I'm so glad.  I was worried when I got back and didn't see a
message from you."

   "Yes, I spent the afternoon visiting Alcatraz and just got back." I had
so nearly said 'we' but caught myself.

   "Never been," Mark was saying.

   I asked him the name of the gallery and as we were on speakerphone, I
saw Paul jotting it down.

   "I need to hurry to get ready, see you at six fifteen.  I am so looking
forward to it."

   I was.  The idea of a date with a good-looking younger man had my pulse
racing.  I don't know when I last had this feeling.  I hoped Paul knew what
he was doing.

   "Thanks for getting the name for me," he said, and came over.  I pushed
him away.

   "I wasn't kidding I need to get ready.  If you want me to do this, you
need to give me some space." He backed away and turned on the TV.

   I had brought two long gowns with me, in the hopes that I might get a
chance to wear them.  After a moment's reflection I picked the more daring
one.  It is a dark shimmering blue with quite a high conservative neckline
and short sleeves that just cover my shoulders.  That's important because
due to a youthful indiscretion I have a very visible tattoo of an eagle
perched on a grinning skull on my right shoulder.  Sound conservative, not
daring; that's because I haven't mentioned the plunging back, almost down
to my butt, and the slits to the thigh that offer revealing glances of my
long legs as I walk.

   "You ought to go commando with that," said Paul, when he saw my choice.

   "Would you like me just to go over and fuck him?" I asked, "you probably
would as long as you could watch."

   Paul smiled but wisely said nothing.  Pissed off, I put back the regular
panties I had been going to put on and picked up some almost sheer flimsies
from Victoria's Secret.  I waved them at him, but he just grinned as I put
them on.

   "Be careful what you wish for, Paul," I thought as I felt my pulse
quicken.  I had not felt like this since anticipated dates in my early
twenties and I knew how the best of them had ended.

   "Pull yourself together," I thought, "You are an almost forty-year-old
woman.  Surely, you can enjoy an evening out with an interesting member of
the opposite sex.  I was already regretting the choice of the flimsy
panties, but the excitement was still there.

   Mark intercepted me as I stepped out of the elevator at six thirteen and
the doorman hailed us a cab.  We arrived at the bistro just before six
forty.

   A waiter introduced himself and we ordered cocktails to sip while we
perused the menu.  I chose a margarita while Mark ordered a Brooklyn, which
was a new one on me.  He specified he liked it with Jack Daniels.  When I
asked about it, he explained it was a close cousin to a Manhattan but made
with a dry vermouth instead of a sweet vermouth and it had a dash of a
bitter orange liqueur.

   He let me try a sip of his and I really liked it.  My margarita turned
out to be way bigger than I expected.  We ordered quite quickly, just a
main course as time was limited.  In twenty minutes our freshly prepared
food arrived.  I was only halfway through my margarita, but Mark had
ordered a rather expensive bottle of 2013 Cabernet Sauvignon from the Napa
Valley, so I put the margarita to one side.  His choices left me thinking
he was anything but the starving artist.  When we finished our main course,
we had just tine to order a tiramisu, and I found my margarita a good
compliment to its sweetness.  I had thought to pay my share but when I saw
the check I just said, "Thank You" and meant it.

   "What a great meal!" I thought.

   We walked briskly to the gallery and a doorman held the door open as
soon as we arrived.  A woman whom I took to be in her early fifties looked
very relieved to see Mark.  When we were introduced, I found out she was
the Gallery owner.  There were already a few well-dressed people walking
around studying the art and I was glad to find I was certainly not
overdressed for the occasion.

   Mark took me on a lightning tour of his work before excusing himself to
meet with the art critic and a couple of his regular customers.  Just as
well, I have a good head for alcohol but only a normal sized bladder and I
quickly found the restroom.

   When I emerged many more people had entered, and I saw many were
clutching pieces of card.  Of course, this event must be by invitation
only. Boy was Paul going to be pissed.  I experienced a great sense of
relaxation.  I realized they were just starting the official opening.  A
woman whom I took to be the revered art critic was speaking thanking the
gallery owner and welcoming the assembled patrons.  Funnily, I had been
expecting a man.  She then introduced Mark, gave a summary of his
impressive bio, and began lavishing praise on the current collection of his
work.

   There was lots of nodding and murmured agreement among the crowd.  I
slipped away to have a better look while they were thus engaged.  The first
section was devoted to sixteen realistic paintings of wildlife.  They
included a mountain lion that absolutely leapt from the canvas.

   As I moved on, I was surrounded by nudes, about two thirds of them women
and the rest men.  I was passing the latter when I realized that two of
them were self portraits of Mark.  His nudes were every bit as lifelike as
his wildlife pieces and vibrated with life and movement.  What a talent!

   Drawn in I looked more closely and wondered if he had flattered himself
in his rendition of certain parts of his anatomy.  If so, it was the same
in both portraits.  I moved on again and was struck by how real each person
looked.  They were not all beauties and ranged in age from early twenties
to seventy or older, but they all portrayed people who exuded fitness.  No
obesity here.

   I came to a sort of anteroom filled with about two dozen marble
sculptures.  They were also very lifelike, but not life size.  They ranged
in height from eighteen to thirty inches or so I judged.  I looked at each
in turn and as I came to one of the male ones, I realized it too was a
self-portrait although unlike the paintings it was not specifically
identified as such.  Once again, I could not help noticing the distinct
parts of his anatomy.  Okay, I'm talking about his genitals.  To my mind
they were large, not monster porn star huge, but definitely well above
average.  His flaccid penis looked to be at least as long as Paul's erect
one, and thicker.  All right I know about 'growers' and 'showers,' but it
made me curious.  His testicles were definitely larger, about half as big
again I guessed.

   I could hear the speeches coming to an end and hurried back to meet
Mark. He joined me and we started to walk round again together.  This time
he told me more and answered my questions.  There was one question I was
clearly not going to ask him, but I did have the courage to ask if the
statue was him.  He seemed a bit embarrassed but admitted it was.

   We were about halfway through when the gallery owner came up and said
there were a lot of potential customers who were anxious to talk with him.
She led him away but then came back.

   "He could be busy for the rest of the show I'm afraid.  We have an
excellent turnout.  Mark's reputation is really growing."

   "I don't see any prices," I said.

   "Oh, you didn't get a catalogue.  I'll get you one."

   She returned a moment later and passed it to me.

   "Have you known Mark long?"

   "No, in fact we only met this morning."

   She did not seem surprised and said, "He can be quite bewitching.  I
wouldn't be surprised if he would like to paint you."

   I remembered he had said as much when we first met at the pool, but I
just said, "I'm only here a few days and it's my first time in San
Francisco so there is lots to see."

   "Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy it.  The weather is particularly good right
now, although I'm sure you will have been warned we are a city of
microclimates."

   I hadn't but I did not say so.

   "I have to go and see how things are going."

   She left and I opened the catalogue.  Wow, if he could command these
prices, he was doing well.  I was quite happy continuing to stroll around
revisiting my favourite pieces, including that mountain lion.

   What seemed only a short time later I noticed people were leaving and
Mark reappeared.

   "Sorry to have abandoned you.  The good news is this show is off to a
really good start."

   "I'm so glad, I really enjoyed it and the time has flown by." I noticed
the gallery owner putting a red dot beside a piece a couple were standing
beside.  I looked around and saw quite a few more red dots, clearly marking
sales.

   "Would you like to go for a night cap?"

   I looked at my watch, ten past ten.  "No, I really should be getting
back, but thank you so much for an amazing evening and an amazing memory."

   As we got in the elevator, I looked at my watch again ten thirty-two. 
As we exited outside his room, he said, "Are you sure you won't come in for
a nightcap?"

   I really did not want this evening to end, but it still surprised me to
hear myself say, "OK, just give me a minute to put on some more comfortable
shoes."

   When I opened the door to our room.  I was not surprised to find a
slightly drunk, grumpy, and very frustrated Paul watching TV.  There were
the remains of a room service dinner around him.  I was glad he was too
lazy to put them outside the room or I might have had some awkward
explaining to do.

   "You're back," he said, "I have had a pissy evening.  The bloody event
was by invitation only.  I tried but they would not let me in.  I did not
want to kick up too much of a fuss, so I had to come home.  I hope you had
more fun than I did."

   "I did and the evening in not over yet."

   At that he perked up.

   "What?"

   "I just popped in to change my shoes.  He has invited me to have a night
cap in his room." I said as I slipped on my flats.

   "Fantastic!  You wicked seductress, you evil whore.  Just make sure his
curtains are open."

   "I'll take 'wicked seductress,' but never 'evil whore' unless you want
me to stay the night with him with the curtains closed."

   At that he looked nervous, he could tell I was not amused.

   "Unconditionally withdrawn, I apologize, I got carried away."

   "OK then I'll do what I can with the curtains." I was uncertain how I
felt about indulging Paul's voyeuristic desires, but he had had a crappy
night so far.

   I let myself out and went and knocked quietly on Mark's door.

   "Oh good," he said, "I hoped you were not going to have second thoughts.
What can I get you?"

   "I don't suppose you have what it takes to make one of those
Brooklyn's?"

   "It so happens I do." He produced a cocktail shaker, a bottle of Jack
Daniels, a bottle of dry vermouth and a liqueur bottle of something called
Triple Sec, "I'll just have to go to the ice machine," he said picking up
the ice bucket, "Don't go anywhere."

   "I'll be right here."

   He left the room.  Perfect.  I could see the curtains were slightly
open. I turned off the room light and turned on the bedside lights.  They
should be quite bright enough.  Then I went to the curtains and drew them
quite a bit further apart and looked out.  There was an almost full moon.

   I heard the door open behind me.

   "I've got the ice."

   "I was just looking at the moon."

   "I see you've been playing with the lights."

   "I hope you don't mind.  It was very bright," I said and as I turned
towards him, I made a show of drawing the curtains but leaving quite a gap.
That should make Paul happy if he really intended to watch."

   Mark had taken the cocktail shaker put in some ice and started to
measure the proportions of each ingredient by eye.  Finally, he produced a
little bottle and added a couple of drops.

   "Angostura bitters," he said, as he tightened the top and began to shake
the shaker.  He took out two glasses and poured about three fingers into
each glass.

   He took a sip, and I did the same.

   "Strong, but delicious," I said.  We chinked glasses.  I had sat on the
only chair while Mark sat on the bed.

   "I loved the show.  Thank you for inviting me.  You have such a talent."

   "Thank you for being my companion.  Not all my shows are that busy and
it can get pretty boring being on my own.

   I took a deeper drink.  God, it was good.  This would be my favorite
cocktail from now on.

   "Excuse me, Mark.  Can I use your bathroom?  I need to pee.  Should have
done it when I went to change my shoes."

   I shut the door behind me and sat down on the toilet.  I had been
holding this pee in for far too long.  While I peed, I wondered if he would
get up and close the curtains.  That would spoil Paul's fun.

   After I wiped my vag, I was about to pull up my flimsy panties when for
no good reason I slipped them off and into my purse instead.  I stood,
washed my hands, and smoothed my dress and went out into the bedroom.  Mark
was still sitting on the bed nursing his drink.  I don't think he had
moved.

   I picked mine up from the desk and moved over to sit beside him.  He
turned to look at me but neither of us said anything.  I took another sip,
more than a sip really.  Mark pulled the shaker from beside him and said,
"Let me top you up."

   I probably should have had my hand over my glass but instead I nodded
and held it towards him.  Although there was still some in the glass, he
must have added another three fingers worth.  If he hoped to get me drunk,
It would take more than that I thought, but I did feel a little buzz and it
was relaxing.  I took long sip and put the glass on the floor well away
from my feet.  I sat up and put my elbows behind me and leaned back.  I
felt the side slits in my dress shift and wondered how much thigh he could
see.  As if reading my thoughts, I felt his hand on my now exposed knee. 
He did not say anything, just waited for my reaction.

   I did not react except to stretch which opened the slit a little wider.
He lifted his hand and placed it a little higher halfway to my thigh.  I
gave him nothing, the anticipation was killing me, and I felt myself
getting moist.  After a minute I looked at him, smiled, and shifted my bum
a little nearer.  His hand lifted again and then he ran it lightly from
just above the knee to my thigh.  I heard his release of breath.

   "Have you been pantiless all evening?" he asked.  I did not answer; just
kept looking at him.

   "Con permiso," he said and moved the centre section of my dress to one
side fully exposing me to his view.  If Paul is watching this, I thought,
he must be coming in his pants unless he has his dick in his hand.  Of
course, with Mark between me and the window he may not have a perfect view.
I let myself lie back looking up at the ceiling.  After a moment I felt
Mark's fingers run lightly over my triangle of hair and slowly walk down to
my clit.  I shuddered.  I knew this was going too far.  Once again, my
self-control was letting me down and I was unable to do anything about it.
This was not an old lecher like in the steam room; this was a highly
desirable young man.

   His hand was gently stroking me up and down, and round and round my
inner labia and clitoris.  I could feel the pleasure and the growing
tension in my loins.  I was wet now, really wet, and I was sure he could
feel it.  I bit my wrist as I started to convulse.

   There was a sudden bump and sounds of a scuffle and furniture being
moved outside the patio door window.  I heard it but now my body was off on
a journey of its own.  Mark was removing his hand but for a split second I
managed to trap it between my thighs as a series of ever more pleasurable
convulsions shook me.

   The hand was gone.  I lay back again and shook out my legs.  There was a
sharp rap on the glass and Mark got up and looked out.  Little spasms of
delight were still coursing through me as my own hand touched my private
places.  I sat up and quickly adjusted my dress.  I could see a security
guard at the window gesturing for Mark to open the door.  As Mark moved to
his right to unlock and open the door, I could see him adjusting the
position of his equipment in his pants.  Clearly, he too had been quite
turned on.  That was reassuring considering he had just given me a
monumental orgasm by touch alone.

   He spoke with the guard, but I could not make out what they were saying.
I bent down and picked up my glass.  There was still a little less a than
half my cocktail left, and I drank it greedily.

   Mark closed and locked the patio door and then draw the curtains tightly
shut.

   "Apparently there was some peeping Tom outside, but he got away.  It had
to have been another guest." I was looking at him and hearing what he was
saying but I said nothing, just held on to my glass.  "He gave me shit for
not having the curtains fully closed.  He said that is an obvious
encouragement and when the weather is mild, they can get two or three of
these creeps a week."

   "I guess there are a lot of voyeurs out there," I said.

   "Will you stay?" he asked.

   "What?"

   "Stay the night?  Sleep with me?"

   "No, no, I should be going."

   "'Should' isn't 'must'," he said.

   "No, I really must go.  This is all going too fast.  I would not respect
myself in the morning.  Thank you again for all of it.  You've been so
generous I feel bad I haven't been able to thank you properly."

   "So, stay."

   "I can't, I really need to sleep in my own bed tonight.  I'll call you
in the morning."

   When I entered our room Paul was excited.

   "I nearly got caught by a security guy," he said at once.  "He tried to
grab me, but I got away."

   "We heard a noise," I said, "Quite disruptive"

   "I bet, sorry about that.  You were great but I wish the curtains had
been a tad wider."

   "I was just hoping he wouldn't notice and close them."

   "It was a bit frustrating because he was in the way and cutting down
what I could see.  I was standing outside the patio and at first had a good
view of you talking.  Then I guess you went to use the can.  When you came
back and moved to sit beside him, I was excited, but that's when his body
got in the way.  I could see him put his hand on your knee when the slit on
that side of your dress opened.  Was that an accident?"

   He didn't wait for an answer, "Then he seemed to be stroking your thigh
and playing with your dress, but I really could not see.  That's when I
took the risk of moving closer, onto his patio."

   He paused and looked at me.

   "It looked as though he had moved his stroking to your panties.  I
couldn't quite tell, but it got me really hard anyway.  If he was, I
imagined your panties must have been soaking," far from upset he was
obviously enjoying reliving the experience.

   "That was so hot, but that's when I heard the guard behind me."

   "I hope you didn't have your dick in your hand?"

   "No, I probably would have had, but I was just trying to keep my phone
steady."

   "You were recording us?"

   "Of course, I thought we'd like some memories of this holiday.  Just as
well I did not have my dick out or I think the guard would have made a
greater effort to catch me.  It was scary enough as it was."

   I could see the outline of his dick in his pants as he unconsciously
touched it, he was rock hard.  He was sitting on the bed, and I went over
and pushed him back on it.  I unzipped his pants and freed his cock, then
took him in my mouth.  As I sucked him, I could not help imagining it was
Mark I was pleasing.

   He came quickly, and I swallowed and sucked him clean.  He said, "That
was one of the best ever, I bet you are still horny."

   "Let's get some sleep, it's after midnight.  I could see you were
excited, and you deserved a treat after the day, you've had.  I love you,
thank you so much for this trip."

   When I woke up, I was dreaming of Mark, but it was Paul who straddled me
and started fucking me gently.  There are worse ways to wake up.

   "What would you like to do today?" he asked, as we showered and dressed.

   "Go downstairs and have breakfast.  I'm starving." It was already eight
fifteen.

   "No really," he insisted.

   "We could cross the bridge and visit some wineries," I offered.

   "That would involve renting a car.  I had another thought.  There are
lots of nude beaches here and some just a taxi ride away."

   "Let's keep talking over breakfast."

   When we got back to the room, he had me half persuaded to the nude beach
idea.  That's when he said, "Why don't you call your friend Mark?  Maybe he
could recommend one and meet us there."

   "I thought we agreed I would not let him know I was married."

   "You're wearing wedding ring."

   "Could be widowed or divorced.  Some single women just wear one to ward
off predatory males."

   "My idea is that he could come to paint you.  You said he wanted to, and
I would remain incognito some distance away.  We would have to get there
first of course."

   "and you can watch from a distance.  I get it."

   "Well, what do you think?"

   "I think you seem fixated on watching me naked with him.  However, if
that's what you want, that's what we'll do.  I know it's your fantasy to
see him fuck me on the beach, but that's not going to happen.  Be
realistic. Anyway, he probably has other plans."

   "Well, he may not want to paint you, but is he going to turn down a
chance to meet you at a nude beach?"

   "I don't know, but I guess I can suggest it." Secretly, I was now rather
taken with the idea.  Mark was fun and I wanted to know more about him.  If
he liked the idea that was OK with me.  There was not much more of me for
Mark to see, but the thought of seeing him naked certainly appealed.  It
would be a public beach even if nude, so nothing untoward was going to
happen.

   "If this is what Paul wants," I thought, "that's on him.  Be careful
what you wish for."

   Surprise!  When I called Mark was delighted.  He named the beach and
offered to drive.  I said I had some things to buy first and would grab a
taxi.  I'd meet him there around ten thirty or as soon after as I could
manage.

   That settled Paul and I quickly got ready and at a quarter to ten we
caught a cab.

   It took a little under twenty minutes to get to the beach.  He had told
me we would have to walk to north towards the Golden Gate bridge to leave
the textiles as he called them.  I knew he meant the clothed people.  As
Paul paid our taxi I had a thought, "Suppose he already came down here and
is waiting for me.  We better split up now."

   "Right, I knew I married a smart woman...as well as a hot one."

   It was a longer walk than I had anticipated, and it was nearly ten
thirty when I saw him.  He was sitting looking around him.  He saw me and
waved.  I had not looked back and had no idea where Paul was behind me.

   As I approached, I saw he had a little easel set up as well as a
three-sided, striped canvas wind break.  The second thing I noticed was
that he was covered in a liberal coating of white sunscreen.  Had to be
zinc or something.  Not sexy, but I remembered his pale skin.  He got up to
welcome me.

   "Sorry about this," he indicated his white coating, "or I'd give you a
hug.  I'm afraid I burn easily, but the opportunity to spend more time with
you and to paint you was too good to pass up."

   "No problem.  I understand.  I was looking forward to spending more time
with you too.  I thought you might be tied up at the gallery," I said
putting down my bag and pulling my sundress over my head, which just left
me standing in the famous bikini bottoms.  I noticed that even in this part
of the beach that was what a lot of the other women were wearing.

   "No, the gallery doesn't open until noon on a Sunday.  I'll just put in
a brief appearance later in the afternoon.  So, we're good, no rush.  How
are you today, did you sleep well?"

   As he was talking, I stepped out of the bottoms, there was nothing he
had not already seen...  and even touched, I thought with a frisson of
excitement.

   He pointed to a folding chair he had set up, and I sat down.  He bent
over and picked up a sketch pad and sat down on his towel with his legs
crossed.  He picked up a pencil, placed the sketch book in his lap as he
continued to make small talk.  He made a few bold swift strokes, then some
shorter lighter ones and turned the paper towards me.

   There I was captured on paper in only a couple of minutes.  He had
captured the essence of my face, the curves of my seated body, the upturn
of my breasts and their sticky-out nipples.  He had not specifically drawn
my triangular thatch, but rather shaded in a longer landing strip that
reached to my clearly defined labia.  The sketch faded out below my knees.

   It was breathtakingly real even with his editorial changes.  If this
were what he could do with a two-minute sketch, what would a real painting
be like.  He asked me to stand and turn to look at the water.

   "Turn away from me a little more, please." I did and found myself
staring at the Golden Gate Bridge.  "Hold there."

   It might have been five minutes, as I watched the boats crossing under
the bridge.  I could feel the breeze playing on my body, and it reminded me
I too needed some sunscreen.  When he said, "Relax, you can move," I went
and took the lotion from my bag.

   He showed me the new drawing he had captured the whole scene.  His
rendition of me filled the right side of the paper, from the back of my
head, down past my hips and my firm butt cheeks to my ankles and feet.  The
bridge and the far shore, the water, and a scattering of naked bodies in
the foreground filled the rest of the sheet.  I could feel the movement of
the wind and the movement of currents in the water.  How could he do that
with so few strokes of a pencil?

   "Spectacular!" I was truly astounded.  The way he had brought in the
whole scene reminded me more of his wildlife paintings than his studio
nudes.  I loved it.

   "I need to put on some sunscreen," I said, moving over to the beach
sheet spread inside the canvas wind break.

   "May I help?"

   "I'd like that."

   I handed him the sunscreen and he started on my shoulders and worked
down my back.  He covered my butt and knelt to do the back of my legs and
ankles.  He blew lightly on my butt, and I moved my legs slightly wider
wondering if he would put some in a more intimate place.

   But he said, "Done," and stood up.  "Interesting tattoo on your
shoulder, I had not pegged you for a biker."

   "I'm not.  It was a stupid decision when I was twenty."

   He made to offer me the sunscreen as I turned round to face him.  I
shook my head and waited, raising my arms.  He put some more lotion in the
palms of each hand and rubbed them down my sides from my armpits to my
hips. I smiled, and squeezing out more lotion, he gently covered my breasts
and my stomach down to, but not touching, my pubic thatch.

   He knelt again and worked his way up from my feet to my knees and on up
my thighs.  He covered the front of the thighs but stayed well away from my
pubic zone.  This time I accepted the tube of sunscreen.  I squeezed some
in my hand and as discretely as possible when standing covered the areas he
had skipped.

   "Would you mind if I took some photos?" he asked.

   "Not at all."

   "Photography isn't really allowed on the beach, but if we move to the
edge of the water where no one else is in the frame, I don't think it will
bother anyone."

   So, that is what we did for the next thirty minutes or so.  He had me
pose in a lot of positions, from full frontal to full back view, all with
the Golden Gate in the background.  In some I was bent forward in various
crouching positions.

   At one point I saw Paul with his phone raised as if he were talking,
standing about thirty feet behind Mark, so he was still here.

   I was glad of my yoga practice for a few of them especially the last
one, where he had me twist back to touch the sand behind me with one hand
while my legs were spread wide in front of him.

   "Can't get much more exposed than that," I thought.  I could feel the
wind on my clit, which seemed to think it should jut out and play.  I do
have quite a prominent and sensitive clit.

   "Thank you, that's great!" Mark said.  "I think I am going to swim. 
Would you like to join me?  I warn you the water will be cold and there are
strong currents, so when I say swim it's more of a cooling dip."

   "I'm game," I said.

   He took the camera back to his bag and came back with our towels.

   "You may want to get dry quickly when we come out."

   We went in and the cold took my breath away.

   "Woo-hoo!" I said, standing up and giving a dramatic shiver.  I dropped
down again and plunged over to where Mark was standing in deeper water.  I
hugged myself against him and felt his penis brush against me.  I really
had not paid any attention to it, probably because of all the white zinc
sunscreen.

   I rubbed my hands up and down his body to get rid and the worst of it.
His penis did not feel very big in the near freezing water, but I massaged
it a bit and he gave me an interesting look.

   "Just some needed resuscitation," I said quirkily.

   Of course, no one could see as all this was under water.  I think he
understood I wasn't trying to make him hard, just reduce the cold-induced
shrinkage.

   It was time to get out.

   Mark had been right to bring the towels.  Rather than wrapping myself I
gave myself a vigorous rub, starting across my back and moving on from
there.  Mark was doing the same as we moved back to our spot.  We dropped
into the shelter of the wind break and lay spread out in the sunshine. 
There was no question that out of the wind there was plenty of heat in the
sun.  Mark turned towards me.

   "Thank you for the resuscitation, I'm sure it was needed."

   I looked at his cock which seemed to have recovered splendidly and his
large testicles.

   "Did you think me over bold?" I asked and reached towards him.

   "I'm still getting to know you," he answered, "I know you can be
embarrassed; I know you can be forward and flirty, and I know you can get
turned on, but I have lots more to learn."

   I brought my hand to rest on his penis.  I knew the beach bags blocked
the view of any prying eyes so long as none got too close.  Mark lay back
down, and we lay like that for a while nothing touching except my hand
innocently resting on his penis.

   "I'm getting hungry," I said.  I looked at my phone; it was twelve
forty, "Is there anywhere to eat?"

   "Look, if we stay, I'm going to have to put on more of my sunblock.  Why
don't we pack up and go and have a proper lunch?  The wind tends to get up
more in the afternoon anyway.  I don't think I can really paint here."

   "Fine by me." I really did not want to be with the white monster any
more even though it might be fun putting the zinc cream on him.

   I was surprised how fast we were able to pack everything into the large
sports bag he had brought.  He said it was meant to carry windsurfers'
equipment and everything we had fitted easily.  I saw Paul hovering about
forty feet away and giving me with a WTF look.  I smiled and waved
discretely.  I would have liked to have blown him a kiss but knew I would
not get away with that.

   The parking lot was solid, as we pulled out several cars were jockeying
to occupy our spot.

   "I was lucky the fog was still lifting as I arrived and there were a few
spaces left.  A day like this, it fills up fast."

   We stopped for some good panini sandwiches at a place on the edge of the
financial district and sat on a bench to eat them.

   "You know I have to go to the gallery sometime this afternoon."

   "Yes."

   "Well, in back there is a studio space; that's where I keep my materials
and do any work while the show is on."

   I waited.

   "Well, you know I want to paint you.  Would you be willing to come and
spend the afternoon there and let me paint you?  It's so much better than a
windy beach."

   I probably should have at least appeared to think about it, but I just
said, "Yes."

   We were at the gallery in less than twenty minutes.  We went in and I
stood beside him as Mark spoke with the gallery owner.  Embarrassingly I'd
already forgotten her name and she welcomed me by mine, but it didn't get
awkward.

   "Jane has agreed to pose for me.  We will be in my studio.  Could you
just knock if anything urgent comes up?" She nodded, smiled, and gave me a
look which I could not decipher.  Maybe it said she'd seen it all before.
We left her and went through a door at the back the said STAFF ONLY- NO
ADMITTANCE.  We were in a small hallway with three doors labelled STORAGE,
STAFF RESTROOM and STUDIO.

   Mark led me through the studio door.  I thought it was surprisingly
large about fourteen feet by twenty with a small square dais in the middle.

   "Martha gives beginners classes here and rents it to other professionals
who teach.  I've given a few classes here myself, although I have been too
busy recently."

   "Martha, the gallery owner, of course." I noticed there were chairs and
easels stacked against the wall.  A high stool and a chaise longue were the
other pieces of furniture, no doubt for the model I thought.  Then I
thought, "I am the model," which was suddenly rather frightening.

   "Let's get started," Mark said in a no-nonsense way, "you can change
behind the screen," and he pointed to one corner.  It was a bit of wall
board about eighty inches high, and four feet wide.  It came out at ninety
degrees from the left-hand wall.  It was painted the same color as the
walls, which was why I had not noticed it.

   "There should be a hook with clean gowns on it, if you want to put one
on.  I'll turn up the heat, it's a little cold in here."

   The change area could not have been a more basic space, four feet by two
feet with no door, just a cotton curtain you could pull across.  I didn't
even bother.  I changed and put on one of the robes while he played with
various parts of the lighting.  When I came out, he had set up an easel and
placed the chaise longue on the dais.  It just fit.  Suddenly this was all
so professional.  I think I had imagined a more intimate, flirtatious
ambience, where he would slowly remove my clothes.

   "I must be nuts or extremely naïve," I thought," He's a painter, not
some gigolo from a cheesy rom-com.  Get with the program, Girl!"

   I was nervous as hell when he had me do a few quick poses.  All of them
using the chaise.  Then he brought over a cushion and asked me to sit with
my legs on the chaise and rest my neck on the arm.  He placed the cushion
behind my head and neck, until I told him was comfortable for a long pose.
He had me place my left arm along the back of the chaise and slightly raise
knee on the same side.

   Then he asked me to drop the other leg to the dais and relax as if I was
asleep.  He had to get me to stand and do it all over again after I found I
could not touch the floor because the chaise was too close to the edge of
the raised dais.

   Funnily by the time we had gone through the whole process twice I was
less conscious of what an extremely revealing pose this was.  Everything I
had was on display.  Of course, he had seen it all before but now I was
potentially revealing myself to the world.

   I put thought aside and tried to relax as he put his camera on a stand
adjusted the lights and took a few photos, changing the camera angle
slightly between each one.  Photos over, I closed my eyes again as he
prepared his palette and started to paint.  At some point I fell asleep and
was awakened by a knock on the door.  Mark went over and opened it.

   "Sorry to interrupt," it was Martha's voice, "but it's almost five
thirty and you know that's closing time on Sundays."

   "My goodness, I lost track of time.  I'm making good progress.  Do you
want to see?"

   "I'd love to, if it's all right with Jane."

   Still in a bit of a fog, I heard my name and nodded as I started to get
up off the chaise.  My legs felt quite stiff, and my one hand had gone to
sleep.  I flexed it and felt the sharp tingles as the blood rushed back
into it.  Then I was standing totally naked beside Martha as she looked at
the painting in progress.

   "The pose is a bit wanton," she said, and I silently agreed.  It was far
from finished but he was right he had made good progress and when his full
talent for realism was realized I would not have an ounce of modesty left.

   "It's very well executed; I love the light quality, and the composition
is brilliant," Martha concluded.

   "Do you like it, Jane?"

   Mark was anxious, and I found myself saying, "I do, very much."

   "Well, let's pack up and get back to the hotel then."

   Paul wasn't in the room.  I couldn't imagine he was still at the beach,
but where was he?  That's when I saw the message light flashing.

   "Where the fuck were you two off to?  You might have found a way to send
me a message.  I'll stay here and enjoy the scenery, and I'm not talking
about the Golden Gate."

   "Charming!  Still, I guess he had a point, I should have messaged him."

   I listened to the next message.  "It's after five and you're not back.
I'll be in the bar when you get in.  You better not have fucked him when I
wasn't there to watch."

   I couldn't believe what he was saying.  I took out my phone and called
him.  He answered at once.

   "Get your mind out of the gutter.  You've already called me a whore
once. If that's who you think I am, I guess in future I can do whatever I
want, and you won't be disappointed unless you can't watch.  Fuck you!  I'm
going to take a shower." He was entitled to be pissed at me, but not like
this.  I was feeling both guilty and mad as hell.

   I went into the bathroom, stripped off my clothes and locked the door. I
turned on the shower and was just about to get in when I heard him come in.
I stepped into the shower.  A couple of minutes later he tried the bathroom
door and was surprised to find it locked.  He started to shout.  I couldn't
completely hear him, but I got the just of what he was saying.

   He was naked and wanted to come in and share the shower.  Surprise, that
wasn't going to happen.  I ignored his rants and continued my shower.

   By the time I came out he had put his pants back on and calmed down.  So
had I.

   "I apologize for my messages, but where the hell were you?  I was
worried.  I had no idea what was going on.

   "I'm sorry you were worried, but as you saw Mark had to be covered to
the eyebrows with sunblock."

   "I saw the pair of you go in the water."

   "Yes, it was freezing, and you really can't swim because of the
currents."

   "Before that he was taking a lot of photos."

   "Did you mind?  I thought you would enjoy that.  I could see you
watching."

   "Yes, that was OK, but when you came out of the water you were in that
wind shelter thing, and I couldn't really see you."

   "We were trying to warm up in the sun and get out of the wind.  That's
what it is for.  You should have moved round if you couldn't see us. 
That's what I expected you to do."

   "I did, but your bags were sort of in the way.  It looked to me as if
your hand was on his dick."

   "If it was, it wasn't doing anything.  It's a beach, I wasn't jerking
him off for heavens sakes."

   "No, that was disappointing.  It didn't even make him hard.  If a hot
chick laid her hand on me, I'd be hard as a rock."

   "Maybe, he's got better self control."

   "Maybe, he's gay.  He's an artist after all."

   "He's not gay."

   "How do you know?  What did you do?  Why did you leave?"

   "He can only take so much sun.  You saw the amount of sunblock he
wears."

   "Where did you go?  Did you come back to his room and fuck?"

   "We went to his studio in the gallery, and he painted me."

   "All afternoon.  I bet you fucked him.  It's OK.  We're on holiday."

   "That's nice to know, but no, I did not fuck him; sorry to disappoint
you.  But I'm glad to know that would have been all right in your eyes.  I
thought you had to be watching."

   "But if he was painting you, you were naked?"

   "Yes, I was, but he wasn't.  Anyway, the gallery owner was there some of
the time." That might have been a slight exaggeration, but the fact was he
wasn't naked, and nothing had happened.  It had not even started to realize
my fantasies.

   "So, what did you do while he painted you."

   "Actually, I fell asleep."

   "What?"

   "I was lying down, and it was kind of boring and I fell asleep."

   He could not stop laughing.

   Finally, he asked, "Am I going to see this painting?"

   "I don't know, it's not nearly finished."

   "And you are flying home.  You'll be heading to the airport this time
tomorrow."

   "Yup."

   "How is he going to finish it?"

   "He photographed me in the pose."

   "Are you going to see him again?"

   "We haven't arranged anything.  I told him it was my last day.  I don't
want to spend it posing when I could be doing something more enjoyable.  I
don't know if I have time to visit those wineries."

   "I'll be in my conference, but I won't be worrying now I know he's gay."

   "He's not gay." A gay guy would not have felt me up last night.  Surely,
even Paul had seen enough to know that.  Oh well, if thinking he was gay,
would put his mind at ease and stop the abuse.  That was fine by me.

   As it was my last night, we went out for the kind of nice, civilized
dinner a couple of our age should enjoy together.  Then as he put it 'we
fucked our brains out' and we deserved it.

   I woke up early.  Paul was still asleep.  I lay there wondering what I
should do today, then his alarm started beeping urgently.  I guess it was
gentle version that had woken me.  He showed no signs of waking.  I turned
off the annoying alarm and closed my hand around his penis and moved it in
the usual manner.

   He rolled towards me, barely awake, and moved between my legs, as I
spread them.  He was already hard.  No disfunction here, and his Pavlovian
response showed I had trained him well.  As he went to insert it, I closed
my legs and said, "Not now buster, I just turned off your alarm."

   "I have time for a quickie."

   "No, you don't.  Get in the shower and warm it up for me.  You need to
be out of here in forty minutes.  I don't think you have time for
breakfast."

   "There will be donuts and muffins with coffee in the conference room."

   "Well get going then."

   "Are you seeing Mark?"

   "Right now, I have no idea.  We didn't talk about it.  I might call and
see what he's thinking."

   "Do that.  You can tell me all about it later.  Have a safe journey,
I'll see you Thursday."

   He came back and kissed me.  He can be so confusing.

   I was still wondering what I was really going to do as I took the
elevator down for breakfast.  When I stepped out, I practically bumped into
Mark.  Was that fate or what?

   I told him I was just going for breakfast.  He said he had had his and
why didn't I knock on his door after I was done unless I had other plans.

   All through breakfast I wondered what he had in mind.  When I was
finished, I went back up the elevator in two minds, but when I got to our
floor I walked up and knocked on his door without any idea what was going
to happen.  When I left him last night, I had told him I was going to have
a bath and a quiet night.  That had seemed fine to him.

   Breakfast finished I went up in the elevator.  I hesitated for a moment
outside his door, before deciding to go to our room.  I brushed my teeth
and then sat down on the toilet.  While I did what had to be done, I
thought about my choices.  If I knocked on his door, what would it mean or
more accurately what would he interpret it as meaning.  Would he think I
was ready to jump into his bed?  In my erotic fantasies that would be fine,
but at nine fifteen in the morning I had my senses under control.

   My decision made I washed and dried my hands.  I picked up the phone and
called his room.

   "Hi Mark," I said, when he answered, "What plans do you have today?"

   "Well, I was wondering what you wanted to do on your last day?"

   "I had thought about visiting some wineries in Napa or Sonoma, but I'm
not sure we'd have time." I realized I'd said "we'd." So, I had telegraphed
I was including him in my plans.

   "No, I don't think we would.  We could have done that yesterday if you
hadn't suggested the beach."

   "So, do you have any suggestions."

   "Anything but another nude beach.  You can't believe how quickly I burn.
I'm even a little pink and tender from the time we spent in the sun after
the swim yesterday.  With the breeze I didn't feel it."

   "Ok.  So, what else could we do?"

   "Well, selfishly, I'd like to do more work on the painting, but I'm
open. It will be better if I could still have you pose a bit.  But with the
reference photos, I can probably finish it well enough."

   It was that 'well enough' phrase that got to me.  I didn't just want the
painting to be good enough I wanted it to be among the best work he had
ever done.

   "I think I'd like to go for a swim first, but then I'd be happy to pose
for an hour or two."

   "That would be fabulous.  Why don't you have that swim?  As I say, I
want to keep out of the sun today.  I'm going to pop over to the gallery
and see how things are going.  I can probably work on fleshing out a
suitable background.  That will move things along."

   "I wasn't going to swim all morning," I hope I did not sound whiney or
eager, but I had thought he would join me at the pool.

   "It's almost nine thirty.  How about if I am back here in two hours and
take you for lunch, then we can go to the studio."

   I like the sound of that, especially lunch.  The meals since we got here
had all been delicious, even the sandwiches.  An hour at the pool would not
be a hardship and I could use the rest of my time to finish packing.  I did
not have to worry about checkout because Paul was staying.

   Then he said, "I could drop by the pool before I leave just to see you
in your bikini again."

   "Don't worry I won't be wearing that one anywhere but the beach.  It's
already packed."

   "OK, I'll be going then."

   "In any case," I joked, "you'll be seeing more of me later."

   I decided to finish my packing first, just leaving out the clothes I
would wear today and a fresh top and underwear for the journey home.  That
got me thinking, and I pulled out my clutch purse.  My Victoria's secret
panties were still scrunched up in there.  Maybe I would wear them to the
studio today.  I was about to put on my bikini when I impulsively reached
into the suitcase and pulled out the white one.

   "It will dry so much quicker," I told myself, putting the other one in
the case.  The tingle I was feeling all over my body told me that was not
the only reason.  Trying to supress it, I told myself I would probably just
read.

   I put in on and slipped my little sundress on over it.  I wasn't going
to have the embarrassment of waiting for it to dry before I came back to
the room.  Armed with my sunglasses, book, and water I headed for the pool.

   Once I was established with a towel and a lounger I sat down to read. 
The book and the sun were both really hot, and as I did not want to put on
sunscreen, I thought a cooling swim was a good idea.

   Of course, this time I was instantly aware that my suit was becoming
transparent and almost vanishing before people's eyes.  But I gave no
indication that I knew, and as most people were swimming, I figured they
were not at a level to be aware of it.  I changed to a back stroke and was
immediately aware that two young men standing on the edge were nudging each
other and grinning.

   With my sunglasses on I figured they could not see I was watching them.
I closed my eyes and continued to swim innocently, but that exhibitionist
thrill had kicked in.  I wondered what thoughts were running through their
heads.  When I opened my eyes again, I realized the number of people
watching me had grown and not all men.  One woman was looking particularly
disgusted, and I thought she was silently mouthing, "skank" or something
worse.

   Time to get out before someone made a complaint.  I'd picked a lounger
close to the steps, so while my exit was a dramatic 'reveal all,' it only
took a moment before I was wrapped in my towel.  My heart was pumping.  I
was about to lie down and read when I noticed an older man with a very
clear tent in his swimming shorts was heading my way.  Time to go before
anything embarrassing happened.

   I slipped on my sundress, pulled the wet bikini top through the armhole,
and let the bottoms fall to my ankles.  I stooped and picked them up and
set off for the room leaving my audience to drool over their fantasies of
what was under my dress.  Truth to tell those who wanted to, had pretty
much seen it all.

   I had time to put on jeans, a top and a light cardigan, as well as socks
and sneakers.  No high heels today.  With perfect timing the phone rang,
and Mark said," I'm in the lobby," and I said, "I'm ready.  I'll be right
down.

   We sat on an outside patio, and we each had a sandwich, but somehow, we
still had time to finish a chilled bottle of sauvignon blanc between us.  I
may have had a glass more than him.  He was telling me more about his very
interesting life.

   We got to the gallery just before one.  It was very quiet, and we headed
towards the studio.  I stopped in the staff restroom.  Unlike the one for
visitors to the gallery in addition to the expected two cubicles, there was
a spacious glass shower stall and a rack of clean towels.  After a quick
pee I returned to the studio.  I could see right away the work he had done
this morning.

   I was lying on the chaise in a classically decorated boudoir.  A fan was
laid on my chest above my navel.  He had done nothing to cover the
wantonness of my pose.  Only the fact of my sleeping might excuse such an
open display.  There was even the slightest sheen of moisture between my
pussy lips.  Had he taken reality too far?

   I was excited and did not bother with the screen or the robe but
stripped and folded my clothes and laid them on the floor.

   "It seems you're eager."

   "Mark," I said, "Have you ever been nude when you were painting?"

   "It would not be the first time.  Would you feel better if I were naked
too?"

   "Definitely, I feel I have been overexposed and I've mostly seen you
under a covering if sunblock."

   "Fair enough."

   He checked the door was locked and stripped with as little fuss as I
had.

   "There," he said, standing full frontal before me, "Are we even?"

   I nodded.  It wasn't as sexy as I had hoped but I did get a really good
view of his tantalizing equipment.  He did not seem the least bit aroused.
I nodded as I still felt a jolt of something through the lower part of my
torso as I looked at it...him.  He had not flattered himself.  His flaccid
cock now seemed a good six inches long and it was thick.

   "Good, let's get started," He had picked up his palette and was standing
before the canvas.

   I lay on the chaise and tried to recapture my pose.  He positioned the
cushion and made sure I was comfortable; then checked his references and
moved me slightly.  I loved the feel of his hands on my body.  I closed my
eyes thinking of his nude body.  His shoulders were definitely red and
parts of his body pink; he had not lied about his fragile relationship with
the sun.

   A vampire with a monstrous erect penis was licking my clit when I awoke.
It was a nightmare or a dream.  I found Mark kneeling beside me, and I
could feel how wet I was with his hand on the stickiness of my inner thigh.
My hand was somehow resting beside my clit.  It has a mind of its own.

   "I think you were having a rather vivid dream"

   "Oh, fuck!" I uttered.

   "It was to say the least distracting," he said.

   I was blushing scarlet, but then realized he was still kneeling and had
moved his hand to my puss.  He began to lightly finger my clit.

   "The therapist in me seems to think you need some release."

   "What about the painting?" I asked, and in the same moment thought,
"What the fuck is wrong with me?"

   "Don't worry about it," he said as he bent between my legs and started
to lick my juices.

   "Is this still a dream?" I thought, but deep down I knew it wasn't.  I
was so primed that within moments I had a shuddering orgasm.

   I was about to push him back onto the floor when I realized my urgent
need.

   "Sorry, I need to pee.  Back in a minute."

   I fumbled the lock undone and entered the staff restroom.  Done, I
washed my hands and returned to the studio.

   I looked at Mark who was still kneeling and knelt beside him.  I pushed
him onto his bum and found his cock.  I licked around the tip and pulled
back his foreskin.  I moved my hand up and down in a circular motion and
felt his already mostly erect penis grow.

   Paul grows from about three inches to around five and a half.  Mark grew
by less from close to six to around eight or a smidgeon less.  I had had a
few boyfriends before Paul but none in this category.

   It was then I noticed Mark had a condom in his hand.  I shook my head
and he smiled and tossed it onto his palette.  Good, I was glad he
understood: no penetration.  I was already ashamed of myself and the
boundaries I was crossing.

   "There goes my self-control again," I thought and started to suck him
more vigorously.  Based on his comments, I figure Paul's only regret would
be that he was not watching or filming me.

   I quickly put those thoughts out of my mind.  It's easy to deep throat
Paul because I don't have much of a gag reflex, but Mark was a whole
different matter.  In fact, my jaw was starting to ache, and I did not have
the sense he was even close.  He lay back and indicated I should straddle
him in a sixty-nine.  As I did so I took my mouth off him and kept using my
hand to give my jaw a break.  Although this was technically cheating as we
were supposed to be doing oral sex on each other, he was not complaining.
Neither was I as he started eating me vigorously, his tongue darting in and
out of me then up and down my clit.  From time to time he paused and to
suck directedly on the head of it.  That was almost too much.

   He paused, as I sensed I too was making progress.  "Pussy juice with an
aftertaste of chlorine," he laughed.

   He was right I had not showered after the pool.

   I could feel the beginnings of another orgasm and he sensed it and
turned me around.  I let go of his penis and then he was between my legs
and thrusting it into me.  The sensation was amazing.  His hands had moved
to my sensitive nipples as he raised himself.  Then he removed them and
placed them under my spread knees encouraging me to straighten them around
his neck.  In this position I could feel him going deeper lightly brushing
my cervix.  It wasn't really painful, and I discovered a pleasure point I
had never before discovered.

   When he started to go harder, I winced, and he made his thrusts shorter
and even more rapid.  I knew he was coming, and it would be a race to see
who got there first.  In the event my body started building a series of
spasms that put me on the crest of an orgasm, but it was only when I felt
the copious flow of his sperm that I went over the top.  He was still
pumping into me as I came down in a series of pleasurable aftershocks.  We
lay together with his penis still in me.

   That was when there was a knock at the door and Martha stuck her head
round the door.  She took one look and said, "Sorry," then added, "making
good progress I see." She closed the door.  I should have been mortified,
but she was so matter of fact, I laughed.

   Stupid me, I had not locked the studio door after my pee.

   Mark just laughed too and stood up.  He went to a cupboard in the corner
and came back with a handful of tissues and two towels.

   "Clean up time," he said, grinning, "Would you like to shower first, or
shall we go together?"

   "Together," I replied.

   He looked out to make sure the hallway of the staff area was clear, and
we scooted across to the bathroom.

   Once in the shower I started to lather him with soap, and he responded
in kind.  He insisted on washing every trace of chlorine from my body
including the most intimate areas.  I was less thorough concentrating
mainly on his manhood.  Very quickly we were so aroused that he lifted me
against the glass and inserted himself into me.

   It was a wonderful feeling to be lifted so easily by a young man and to
be fucked so passionately.  He came more quickly, the second time and I did
not, but it was enjoyable none the less.  We finished our shower, dried,
and dressed.  It was a quarter to five.

   "Thank you for letting me know you didn't mind if I didn't wear a
condom," Mark said, "It's so much better without.  I gather you and your
husband have a very open relationship, if he's OK with unprotected sex."

   I did not know what to say to that.  Unprotected sex or anything that
involved penetration was simply not in the plan.  But somehow my plans went
out of the window.  All I could say was "You knew?"

   "About your husband?  Well, of course.  You were wearing a wedding ring
and I suspected as soon as I saw him at the pool.  His reaction as you
exited the pool was odd, but not that of a stranger.  Then yesterday he was
dogging you on the beach.  It was creepy.  I don't know if you like that,
but I just wanted to get you away.  Where is he today?"

   "Working, a conference."

   "I also made up a story and checked with the front desk.  Yes, Mr.  and
Mrs..........  were indeed staying in your room.  Sorry, just curiosity,
it's your business not mine."

   He gave me a kiss, wished me a safe trip, and said he needed to do more
work on the painting.

   Stepping back into the gallery I almost bumped into Martha.  I did not
know what to say, but she did, "Don't worry I've seen it all.  You're not
the first.  How do you think he persuaded me to let such a young unproven
artist show at my gallery?  I mean his art was good but had nothing of the
maturity it has today."

   I just looked at her, then said, "I was staggered by the prices in the
catalogue.  Is he really that good?"

   She pointed to the many red dots.  "People think so.  That painting of
you, if it's as good as I think it will be, could fetch fifteen thousand or
more.  Some of his earlier work is coming up at auction and attracting
national attention.  He's an exceptionally talented and gifted young
man...in so many ways."

   We both laughed and she called me a cab.  I liked her and I sat in the
back of the cab in a daze at everything that had happened.  Although I did
not get drunk, maybe alcohol loosened any self control that I had.  I was
back at the hotel by five thirty.  The taxi to the airport was arranged for
six so I had plenty of time to close my suitcase.  I noticed the message
light was flashing.  I picked up the phone.  It was Paul.

   "Have a safe trip home, I hope you had a great day.  I'll see you
Thursday morning unless you are still up when I get in."

   It wasn't until I was on the plane home that it hit me.  Paul might
shoot blanks, but I doubted that Mark did.  I didn't own any so-called
'morning after' pills.  Why would I ever need them?  I supposed I could get
some at a drugstore in the morning.  That would be in time, wouldn't it?

   The idea just kept noodling around in my head.  I did not really think
it was a risky time of the month.  We live in rather a rural area that only
has one drugstore There's that and the pharmacy in the supermarket.  The
staff in both are among our circle of friends.  I wondered if there was a
place at the airport, but would they be open when I arrived.  Anyway, what
were the chances?  I was probably just worrying myself about nothing.

   It's been six weeks since I got home.

   The conference went well, and two weeks later Paul was given a
promotion. Apparently, he was pretty sure it was in the works, but had not
wanted to say anything.  He is now vice-president in charge of a larger
region and has a team of salespeople under him.  He won't be travelling as
much and it means a nice increase in compensation, especially if his team
gets big results.

   Since Paul got home, he has been teasing me about fucking Mark.  He has
never outright asked me whether I did.  He likes to believe that I did and
spends a lot of time when we are having sex describing his fantasies of how
it happened and what we did.  Some of them are extremely creative and would
have been a lot of fun.  Sometimes, to tease him I'll murmur, "Oh yes, we
did that.  It was wonderful." He keeps bringing up the subject of swingers'
clubs or resorts.  I am not interested in going to look for a hook-up just
to fuck but he continues to hint he would really like to watch someone fuck
me.  That's not going to happen.

   Mark wasn't like that.  However, it seems the boundaries of our marriage
have changed.  Now I know that if I chance to meet another man with an
amazing smile, and good body, who is amusing and into me, things might just
evolve.  I've admitted to myself it's not about exhibitionism or loss of
self-control; it's about daring to do what I want.  Mind you I doubt it's
ever going to happen again, and that's OK.

   Paul's favorite expression is, "whatever happened in 'Frisco' stays in
Frisco."

   I can now say that that is true because another piece of good news is my
period came as usual.  Funnily the relief I felt was tinged with regret.

   This morning I received a surprise.  FEDEX delivered a parcel and when I
unwrapped it there was the finished painting.  It was amazing the woman
sleeping in the painting was unmistakably me, so lifelike I could almost
feel her breathing.  I wonder what Paul will make of it.

   There was a note.  "Hope you enjoy.  It was fun meeting you.  I could
not leave it out."

   It did not take me a second to know what he meant.  The moment I had
opened it one thing stood out.  On the woman's right shoulder was a very
visible tattoo of an eagle perched on a grinning skull.

   THE END
   Copyright: Â(C) Dawn Ramble 2021