"Good morning, sleepy head," said Krystal, as Blake stepped through the sliding glass door onto the patio, "You feeling OK?"
"Yeah, I can't believe I slept this late," he said, relieved to see her in a bathing suit, rather than the birthday version, "So what's the plan?" he asked, taking the chaise next to hers.
She twisted in her seat to face him.
"You'll probably think this is a dumb idea, Blake, but would you consider taking a break from the craziness, and just spending the day with me?"
"I don't think that's a dumb idea at all," he said, leaning back, and crossing his ankles.
It was quiet for a bit as they took in the ambiance. Except for the 'Cuban' pool boy, the area was deserted, and absent the controlled frenetic chaos that would shortly materialize, it was easy to appreciate what would soon be just a memory - the air heavy with tropical fruit, the lush landscape draped with exotic birds, the sparkling waters of the Caribbean Sea beckoning from beyond the windswept palms, and the Manager's Chihuahua perched on a cabana bed, surveying the scenery as if smitten with it too.
"So, how do you feel about your week's experience?" she asked.
Blake sipped his coffee as he reflected on the casual but potentially weighty question.
"It was a week of firsts," he answered, deciding to stick to the facts and keep his feelings out of it, "And I never had straight-forward intercourse - not once."
"Well I blame YOU for that," she said, "Seemed to me you were doing your best to avoid it."
"I wasn't trying to avoid intercourse per se, Krystal," he said, treading carefully, "I was just trying to avoid full swap."
There was an awkward lull in the conversation, then Blake saved the day with the list of thrilling additions to his heretofore boring Cranbury collection.
"Now let's see," he said putting his index finger to his chin, "I got deep-throated and milked by an elf, who I rimmed. I ejaculated in my pants. I gave a nipple orgasm to a Wonder Woman doppelganger. I climaxed in public, twice - three times if you count the live streaming. And I was caged, spanked, tasered, and queened by an exotic alpha beast, who I scored my first anal with while on my back and bound to the bed. Oh, and how can I forget - I was inducted into the highly selective Circle K Club and branded as part of the ceremony."
Blake held up his coffee cup. Sufficiently stunned, Krystal was unable to toast to his dubious accomplishments.
"That sounds irresponsible and dangerous," she said, lips pursed, "Wasn't there a safe word? Isn't that how that BDSM shit works?"
"Well, that's how that BDSM shit is SUPPOSED to work," he said, "but no, there wasn't. Guess I figured 'No' was the safe word - silly me." He chuckled. "I was never in any danger, though. The branding was just a rubber stamp - semi-permanent ink. We had a big laugh after the show was over."
Krystal rolled her eyes.
"Yeah well I figured you were going to that freak show with those women; I saw the goofy getup in your gym bag," she said, "I had no idea you were that far out there."
Blake frowned.
"I'll have you know that goofy getup, as you call it, is haute couture for men on the FemDom circuit, and as for THOSE women, Kenya works for the State Department in D.C., and Tina is a Marine Biologist in Miami. They're part of a posse of Doms who meet here the same time each year, and they look for guys like me to play with."
"You mean mild-mannered men with Big Lebowskis and a fondness for degradation?"
Blake bristled with her snarky tone.
"It's just a kink, Krystal," he said, quietly, "It doesn't affect my daily life."
"Does Barb know about it?"
"Hell no," he said.
"Well, won't she see the branding?"
Blake spun sideways and looked directly at her to take her on.
"Let's just say TAINT nowhere ANYONE will see it."
She laughed out loud, and Blake joined in the hilarity, happy he'd relieved the tension mounting between them.
"So, Krystal," he said, tapping her arm, "Same question. How would you describe your Cupidity experience?"
"Full of surprises," she said, "I mean we weren't here more than a few hours before I got so horny, I did a Meg Ryan at the pool."
Krystal slipped her uber-glam sunglasses down to the tip of her nose, and raised and lowered her eyebrows at him.
"Yeah, that was wild," said Blake, leaning over to brush some non-existent sand from his feet to avoid blushing in front of her.
"You know what the best part of that was?" she asked, meeting his shy eyes when he lifted his head, "Watching you watching me."
Blake gulped, returned to his reclined position, and stared straight out to sea.
"And may I add, you've shown amazing restraint. I knew I could trust you to be a perfect gentleman."
She patted his knee.
The compliment stung like a viper. Why had he been so docile? It sure as hell wasn't out of a sense of duty to Ken or respect for the institution of marriage - no, nothing so noble as that. It was what it had always been with her and with women like her; it was the fear of rejection - the fear of failure to please.
"What else did you do?" he asked, dismissing the bothersome notion.
"Dickie and I diddled each other in the supply closet behind the bar," she said, matter-a-fact.
"WHAT?!"
"Well, we got so hot watching Cassandra get you off, the closet was convenient, although not so conducive to the task. We knocked down a tower of shelving and got pummeled by paper towels and toilet paper. My purse went flying and the vibrator, butt plug, and cherry-flavored lube spilled onto the floor. Dickie's zipper had broken open and my panties were down around my ankles when the bartender heard the commotion and opened the door - said it looked like a trailer park after a tornado."
"That's a good one," laughed Blake, "but I still win, unless you've got something else to add."
Krystal considered her answer, and Blake waited for her to confess the beach blanket tango with Bruce.
"I kissed a girl, and I liked it," she said.
"Do tell," said Blake, surprised at her answer.
"Last night while you were on man-whore alley, I met the Doolittles at the tiki bar. At first they seemed disappointed you wouldn't be joining us, but it didn't take long before they talked me into going to their room. I was half in the bag and figured why not - it'll be my first threesome, but I was wrong; it was a ménage-a-deux. Turns out Dickie likes to direct."
"Girl-on-girl, huh?" said Blake, relieved it wasn't another banana in her fruit salad. Still, Dickie was one lucky son-of-a-bitch.
"It started so suddenly," she said, "We were standing there with a drink in our hands talking politics, and then Dickie plopped down in a corner chair, put his feet up on the ottoman and said, 'OK ladies, let's get this show on the road.' I turned to look at Cassandra for an explanation, and she started undressing me. So, I'm standing there naked - and this is kind of weird, Blake - she walks me over to Dickie and sort of presents me to him."
"And did he approve?" asked Blake, shifting in his seat to scratch the sudden itch.
"Not right away," she said, "He told me to turn around, bend over, and try to put my palms on the floor, keeping my legs straight. Like I said, weird, but oddly arousing."
