A Different Plan

Greetings to our readers.

We are new at Literotica and are unsure how to categorize this story. It involves Loving Wives, Group Sex and most of all a person whose spirit we celebrate and whose memory we cherish. What you will read here took place in March, 2005. We wanted to tell some of our story because aging and illness are taking their toll—we think that such_good_friends will only hold together for a couple more years. This chapter is one of two.

Our group has a history before and after this two-chapter episode—prequels and sequels if you will—but we thought this might be the best way to gauge interest in what we have to share. Ted wrote the first draft while waiting for passengers, circulated it to the rest, and this is what we have been able to piece together from our journals and memories. The location is the island of St. Martin. Readers who have been there will recognize the venues. Since the venues are relevant to the story—and to our shared experiences!—we have not changed them. We have changed our names and some details of our jobs so that we can protect our anonymity. Intimate friends might recognize us of course, but we trust their discretion.

We hope you enjoy these experiences. If you're looking for non-stop sex scenes, you'll be disappointed. This is neither erotica nor pornography. Think of it as a literary memoir. We're ordinary people telling a story about adults coming to terms with some realities of life, and then making "a different plan".

Perhaps our story will inspire you and your partner to try a new path. Go for it. We promised Carol we would grow and share. Not a bad promise to make to your partner, and to yourself.

If these stories resonate and we write more, we might combine them into a book. For this reason, our work is Copyright 2012, with all rights reserved.

Noon, Thursday, Orient Bay

"She still there?"

Paul looked at his wife, Gina, across the table at Papagayo where they were finishing a light lunch. Club Orient's signature restaurant featured a patio with a view to the southern end of the beach. Gina peered across the tip of Paul's shoulder to the woman in the one-piece black bathing suit. She sat knees drawn up at water's edge, looking out across Orient Bay.

"Hasn't moved since we sat down."

"I told you something was wrong."

Gina nodded. They had flown to the island to celebrate his recent retirement from his "day job" as a New York City police detective. His powers of observation didn't seem to take much notice either of his new employment status or the fact that they were on vacation in St. Martin.

Gina wondered, "So how does a woman in a one-piece bathing suit on a beach signify that something's wrong?"

Paul turned to look at her. "Three things. First, she didn't walk here, she didn't drive here, and she's not a guest here. I saw her swimming along the beach, and she simply stopped at the jetty when she could go no further. Second, she's isolated herself. There are three hundred people on this beach. She's as far away as she can be. Third, wearing a tank suit on a nude beach in the middle of the largest nude resort in the hemisphere doesn't compute."

"Maybe she just wanted to see what the no-kini folks were doing?"

Paul shook his head. "The only thing she's looked at for the past hour is the water. She could have done that anywhere on this beach, or on the other 36 beaches on the island. No, she doesn't want someone to find her while she's working through whatever she's working through."

Gina observed, "Suit or no suit, she's going to get a hell of a sunburn if she's not careful."

Paul chuckled. Gina's Mediterranean ancestry made the sun and her olive skin good partners. The five days that they had been at Club Orient had erased both of their winter pallors. At 53, Gina still turned heads. She fretted that her hair had turned silver, and her breasts were starting to see the effects of the earth's gravitational pull, and there was a faded scar overlying her kidney transplant. Still, she was strong inside and out, and in Paul's eyes she was still the beautiful bronze goddess that he married two decades ago. Her concern for the well-being of others simply made her more beautiful.

Gina started folding the last two cookies into a napkin and slipped a bottle of water from the table into her beach bag. "See you back at our umbrella, honey."

Before Paul could get a word in, Gina threw her towel over her shoulder and set off towards the woman. It was his turn to smile. Gina was the senior social worker at one of New York's larger hospitals and spent most days helping families in crisis. One of the reasons he liked her. One of the reasons he married her. Clothed or naked, the empathy came out full force.

He paid the check and wandered back to their spot on the beach.

***

Not wanting to startle the woman , Gina circled to the water's edge. Gina caught the woman's gaze, put the towel down next to her, and sat. She reached into her bag to offer the cookies and bottle of water.

"You look hungry."

The woman looked up at her. Mid 40's, Gina thought, brown eyes, short brown hair with streaks of grey. Engagement and wedding rings on her left hand. Like her detective husband, Gina was also a student of people.

"Do I know you?" the woman asked.

"Not yet. My name's Gina."

"Ellen. And thank you."

Ellen took a long pull from the bottle. Devoured the first cookie. Washed it down with another deep swallow.

"Want to talk about it?"

Ellen shook her head. "It's personal."

"It always is."

Ellen twisted the rings on her left hand.

"Did he leave you? Hit you? Cheat on you?"

A look of horror crossed Ellen's face.

"No, much worse," Ellen said. "I cheated on him. And I'm terrified that I'm going to lose him."

Gina was only mildly surprised. Women strayed nearly as often as men, and rampant cheating contributed to half of all American marriages ending in divorce.

"Does he know?"

Ellen pawed at the sand . "Oh God, no, it would break him."

"What happened? " asked Gina.

As Ellen started to talk, Gina slipped into social worker mode. The two women gazed out to the sea crashing on the rocks. Ellen was oblivious to the fact that she was talking to a naked stranger. Confession or catharsis, Ellen had to share the secret.

"It was four months ago. I was invited to speak at a scientific meeting in Chicago. The talk went great, and several attendees took me out to dinner afterwards. The waiter kept refilling my wine glass—it was half-full for four hours-- and I was a little buzzed walking back to the hotel. One of my colleagues was staying on the same floor of the hotel..."

Ellen's voice trailed to a whisper.

"He leaned down to kiss me good night. I knew it was wrong. I knew it. But all of a sudden, I felt more aroused than I had in years. Call it surprise. Call it adventure. I pulled him into the room and we were kissing, tearing our clothes off, and fucking like animals. It happened so fast..."

"We fell asleep and woke up around 4 a.m. I was frantic. He was embarrassed. He left and we never spoke of it again."

Gina let the silence hang for a moment. "You made a choice. Good or bad, it doesn't matter. You think your husband wouldn't forgive you? How long have you been married? "

Ellen beat the sand around her. "Seventeen years. Two great kids. Jobs that we like--he's in IT. But I'm not worried about forgiveness."

"What then? What has you so upset?"

Ellen sighed deeply."I really liked having sex with someone different. I love my husband more than anything else in the world. Having sex with him is the best. But I can't stop fantasizing about other people. I bit into the apple in the Garden of Eden, and it tasted ...delicious."

For a few moments, both women fell silent and together stared out to the horizon. Gina framed her comments carefully.

"That's a big stress for you and for your marriage. I imagine I'm the first person with whom you've shared your secret. So you know, I'm a professional social worker so everything you just told me is confidential. I'm not here to judge. I simply listen and reflect. I give guidance sparingly, and only when absolutely necessary. So there are two things you need to know. First, you're not alone. I hear a similar story two or three times a week. People aren't wired to be monogamous for decades or even years. You gave into a biological imperative."

Ellen thought about it for a moment. "And the second thing?"

Gina replied, "If we don't get you under an umbrella and get some more sunscreen on you, you're going to turn into a boiled lobster."

Ellen laughed, "You're right."

She turned around to follow Gina up the beach.

Ellen continued, "I feel a little foolish wearing a swimsuit with everyone else nude."

Gina turned. "Nobody cares. And every single person on this beach used to wear swimsuits. Somewhere along the way, each decided on a different plan."

Ellen paused, and Gina retraced her steps to stay alongside her.

"I suppose it would make putting on sunscreen easier."

Gina remained silent.

"The straps on this suit aren't comfortable anyway."

Gina glanced at her.

"And there wouldn't be tan lines."

Gina started walking.

"Wait a sec."

Ellen ran into the water and emerged a moment later, swimsuit in hand.

"Too much sand in the wrong places."

It was Gina's turn to laugh.

***

"Paul, meet Ellen."

Paul put down the book he was reading-- the latest Jack Reacher adventure—and looked over the top of his glasses.

"How do you do?"

Gina said, "See, his mother raised him right, to stand in the presence of a lady."

Ellen blushed as Paul extended his hand. Although he was a few years older than she was, his close cropped grey hair, rugged face, and fit body had her undivided attention.

She glanced over at Gina who simply shrugged.

"Paul's a cop—actually a recently retired detective. He's the one who spotted you all alone."

Paul also shrugged. "It's what I do. Or did. What do you do?"

Gina started pouring out sunscreen onto Ellen's fiery red shoulders.

Ellen winced. "Owww...." .

Gina said, "It's got some aloe in it. Give it a moment and it'll cool off the burn areas."

Ellen began," I'm a biology professor at Saint Louis University. Boring academics. But I work on human genetics."

Paul looked past Ellen to his wife who imperceptibly shook her head side-to-side: Don't pry. Stick with shop talk.

"I suppose that you used DNA evidence in some of your cases?"

"Of course."

"Well, you might have heard of the man who taught me most of what I know about DNA forensics." Ellen named the nation's foremost expert in DNA evidence.

Paul blurted out, genuinely surprised, "You're kidding, right? That guy wrote the book! I heard him testify once. He was brilliant! Tore the defense to shreds. Was he your professor in school?"

Ellen's face crinkled into a smile. "Not exactly. He's my dad."

Gina rolled her eyes and groaned, knowing that this conversation was going to go on without her for a few minutes. Paul was like that, always learning and excited to hear about cutting-edge technology. Well, better that he hear about it from this woman than go back to being a detective.

"I'm heading up to the chalet . Would you two like some more water?"

Both nodded. Within moments Paul and Ellen were discussing the latest technology tagging criminals to their crimes.

Gina returned with a large plastic bag with cold fruit, more water, and her cell phone.

As soon as Ellen saw the phone, she clapped her hand to her mouth, "Fred!".

Paul looked at her quizzically.

"My husband. He went on a parasailing adventure this morning and should be getting back to the hotel room about now."

"What hotel?" asked Paul.

"L'Hoste". Ellen had named a quiet seaside hotel about a mile up the beach.

"It'll be a faster walk than a swim. Or I can drive you."

"Either way, I'll have to put my suit back on." There was a hint of disappointment in her voice. Nude suddenly made more sense to her.

Gina picked up on the inflection, raising an eyebrow at Paul, who merely nodded approval. He knew what was running through Gina's social worker mind.

"Ellen, give him a call and tell him you're just down the beach and will be back in 20 minutes. Also, we're having a couple of other couples over to our chalet for dinner. If you'd like to join us..."

Paul looked at Ellen as she punched in the number. He did a quick mental playback of the afternoon. Woman swims up. Clearly a fish out of water. Talks to Gina for 30 minutes. The two of them show up nude. He spends the next 45 minutes talking shop with someone he's never met. Her husband doesn't have a clue she's calling from the nude end of the beach. No way on earth she's going to accept that invitation.

"Honey, how was the parasailing?....I'm just down the beach and will be back in 20 minutes...They've invited us over to dinner...No, their chalet, a cookout, two other couples...I'll tell you more when I see you..." Ellen glanced over at Gina, mouthing "what time?"

"Happy hour at 6:30," said Gina.

"6:30 honey. Time for a shower and a quick nap. See you soon." Ellen ended the call.

Gina looked over at Paul, knowing he bet against Ellen's accepting the invitation. Catching his eye, she stuck her tongue out at him.

It was Paul's turn to laugh. As a detective, he was really good at ferreting out the past. But his bride was a lot better at seeing the future.

***

As Ellen walked away to the textile section of beach, Gina and Paul busied themselves cleaning up the area, closing up the umbrella, and collecting the towels. Walking the few meters inland toward the chalet, Paul turned to Gina.

"Okay, what's the story."

Gina gave him an uncharacteristic response. "Gotta wear my professional hat on this one. I gave her my word."

Paul protested. "C'mon. You don't invite clients to over to naked dinners. Especially when the two other couples sleep together."

Gina turned to her husband and said, ever so sweetly, "You're going to have to trust me on this."

Paul carefully considered his potential rejoinders and came up with the only one that made sense.

"Yes, dear."

6:15 p.m., Thursday

As day turned to evening, Paul and Gina were joined by the couples who had the chalets on either side of them.

Ted and Liz came over first from Unit 62. Paul always thought of them as the bean pole pair, both tall and lanky, neither one carrying an extra ounce of fat. Liz spent her days as director of HR for a Fortune 500 company, a job that seemed to occupy every moment of her time. Just as well since Ted was chief pilot for the same company flying the corporate jet for the CEO. As far as Ted was concerned, he had the best job in the world—his front office was seven miles above the earth's surface—and the best wife in the world—she had given them three beautiful children, the last of which had just left for college.

"Welcome empty nesters!" Paul and Gina hugged their friends, and quickly put them to work slicing cheese and setting out crackers.

"And I'll bet they're happy they can go back to being naked at home whenever they want!" boomed Charles. He and his wife Susan brought bags of groceries across from Unit 66.

"We got enough fish and salad for eight. Who's the new duo?" asked Susan as she threw her dress in the corner. "Folks here at the resort?"

Susan was always the most inquisitive of the group, and maybe the most analytic. Paul attributed it to her Irish background and flaming red hair—Susan had the answers before Paul had thought about the questions. Charles was the perfect foil for her. He was imperturbable and always seemed vaguely amused by his wife's 'put it out there' approach. Of course, her job as an ER doc didn't leave much time for subtlety. She called 'em as she saw 'em. His job as a middle school math teacher meant that he had to draw daily on an infinite reservoir of patience. Paul thought of Susan and Charles as the checkers of a checkerboard—she red and he with his jet black hair and equally dark eyes—jumping over and around each other in the game of life.

"Not exactly," said Gina as she recounted the story of spotting her outside the Papagayo restaurant a few hours earlier, carefully omitting the cause of Ellen's angst.

"You think they'll come to dinner?" asked Susan. "What if her husband isn't into the nude thing?"

"Oh, they'll show. In fact, I'll bet they're in the car that's pulling up next to ours right now." A white Toyota had just appeared on the grass. Sure enough, Ellen and Fred got out of the car. Fred was carrying a grocery bag.

"Didn't know what you liked, but a couple of bottles of champagne always seem like a good idea." Gina hugged Ellen, saying "Glad you two came over." She turned to Ellen's husband and, accepting the bottles, said "So you're the handsome guy Ellen's been telling me about!"

Fred laughed. "That must be her other husband. I'm just Fred-the-IT-guy. How can I help?"

Predictably Susan was the first to speak. "Well, you two are just slightly overdressed for dinner at a nude resort."

Fred smiled. "Yeah, Ellen told me that dinner was down here at Club Orient. No problem." He and Ellen had their clothes off in about five seconds.

Paul turned to Ellen. "I thought this was your first trip to a nude resort?"

Ellen said, "Yes...but..."

Fred finished her sentence. "...we're nude around the house most of the time. And when I was in college, I was the figure model for the Drawing 101 class to make a few extra bucks. In fact, that's how we met. She was a student in the class and after she showed me her drawing, I asked her out on a date. She's got talent!"

Liz piped up, "That must have broken about a thousand HR rules."

Ellen replied, "Maybe. But we were both starving students and it wasn't like he was controlling my grade. Besides, I got to see his "package" before going out on a date!"

"Truth in advertising. What a concept!", deadpanned Charles.

All eight started laughing like schoolkids.

***

The sun had made all of them hungry, and they attacked dinner with great gusto. It was Fred who asked the question that Ellen was wondering but too shy to put forward.

"What brought you three couples together?"

All six chorused, "Carol!".

Fred looked at them quizzically.

"Ted's first wife. She died 12 years ago this week."

Ellen blanched. Gina saw her and said, "Don't be embarrassed. Our trips together are celebrations of Carol's life."

Ted continued," She was a wonderful woman." Fred saw Liz take his hand and caress it. "She was a free spirit. The one that would go out in the rain just to dance in it. Forever taking in stray animals. Trying new things just because they were new—remember the race car thing she won?"

Charles chimed in. "Yeah, she got to drive the formula 1 car, and by the time they were though a few laps, the pro asked if she would ever consider driving professionally."

Susan added, "She would have made a great driver...smooth and fearless."

Liz went on. "One day, she said she felt tired. And it was worse the next day. By the third day, we knew something was terribly wrong. We dragged her into the emergency room."

Susan said, "I was the ED doc. Did the blood tests. Took one look at the results and thought 'oh shit'. She had the worst type of leukemia."

Gina continued. "I was in training, doing a rotation at the hospital and was assigned her case as the social worker. Here was this beautiful woman with a great family and an awful diagnosis. Truth is, she handled it better than me."

"Seventeen days. She had exactly 17 days between diagnosis and her death. It was horrible for the rest of us, but Carol was completely at peace. Every day, she said she loved living every day of her life. But she did make us promise one thing."