Part 1 is [here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/e1nckz/marys_adventure_part_1_of_6_fm/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)
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CHAPTER 4 – TUESDAY
“You’re staring.”
“Hm?”
“Mary, you’re staring at him.” Gina wasn’t wrong, but to be fair, he was staring at me, too. The silver fox from the lobby, or “R”, as he’d credited himself, was sitting by himself across the hotel café with his coffee and his newspaper. Okay, maybe he wasn’t staring at me, but he was certainly stealing glances at every opportunity. He was certainly something else. Tall and broad shouldered, he was easily in his mid to late 40s, but in excellent shape, clearly evident under his dress shirt that was just tight enough to be alluring, with chiseled features, a strong jaw and cheekbones, perfectly straight, white teeth he showed off with a show stopping smile every time the waitress stopped by to fill up his coffee. I found myself getting slightly jealous when he’d flirt with her, but his pale blue eyes always ended up back on me. His silver hair was thick and healthy, combed back without a hair out of place. This crystal clear look at him, as opposed to the passing glance I’d stolen and barely remembered in the lobby, was doing nothing to stop the incessant fantasies clawing at my brain.
I felt a sharp pain in my side that brought me tumbling back down to reality. I winced and looked down to find a fork, being wielded by my best friend, withdrawing from my fleshy side. Gina had convinced me to wear my bikini to breakfast so we could go walking on the beach afterwards, a concession I was now regretting with no padding between me and the fork she’d used to get my attention. I looked to her face for some answer for the brutal assault, to find her giving me her serious look: her green eyes wide and flashing and her jaw clenched. She leaned in and whispered, “If you’re looking to fool around on Frankie, I’m not here to tell you how to take care of your marriage, but the way you’re looking at that guy is going to send him the wrong message.”
“And what message would that be?” If I was going to cheat on my husband (a prospect the old me would have been horrified by, even if it was only hypothetical), I could do much worse than a handsome older gentleman who sent me flowers and pretty notes. I found myself staring again, like a school girl with a crush, only to be brought back to the real world yet again by another stab to my side. “Ow! Gina!”
“Every time he catches you looking at him, you’re telling him that he doesn’t need to try, that you’re already in the palm of his hand.” I looked at her, incredulous, only to get her serious look again. “Mary, if you go buck wild this week and fuck half the island while the other half waits in line, that’s fine by me. I’ll root you on. Hell, I’ll make a contest out of it.”
“Gina I’m not going to…”
“What? Wear a skimpy bathing suit in public?” She waved her hand over the evidence to the contrary. She leaned in closer. “Sunbathe nude? Is that what you were going to say? Perhaps you won’t traipse through the lobby of the hotel topless? Maybe you’re not going to make gaga eyes at a stranger across a restaurant. Is that it? All of those things would have been alien to you just days ago. I don’t know what to expect from you, Mary. We have three more days on this island before we fly back to your everyday life, and I honestly don’t know what you’ll be like when you get back home.”
She had a point. I could barely recognize my behavior over the last few days, and while I liked telling myself that the idea of having sex with R was purely hypothetical, I wasn’t sure I’d say no if he propositioned me right then and there. I swallowed hard and looked down at my hands in my lap, suddenly very aware of my near-nudity. I could feel that old housewife clawing her way back to the forefront of my mind and, God help me, I hated it. Still, it’s who I had been for so long, it was hard to argue that it wasn’t the real me.
Gina put a finger under my chin and raised my face to hers. “Hey, Ms. Contrary. I like the new you. I like it a lot. I just want you to do this properly. I can’t help but feel partially responsible for your behavior.” She broke her serious look for just the slightest smile, which got me to let out a small giggle before she nodded over my shoulder. “Here comes lover boy. Play it cool.”
I looked back towards the table, and sure enough, R was gathering his things and preparing to leave. I looked back at Gina, panicked. “I don’t know how to play it cool, Gina!” She looked at R, who was making his way towards the door back into the hotel lobby on a path that was going to conveniently take him past our table. She pointed at my coffee. “Drink that and stare at the salt shaker until I tell you to do differently.” I snatched up the coffee cup and held it up with both hands to try and hide my shaking hands and stared intently at the salt shaker, just like Gina had told me. Why was I shaking, though? A married woman, devoutly so, nervous about a man at least ten years her senior? He was so handsome, though, and he WANTED me. Forget what Gina said, what harm would come from a little fling in St. Bart’s? All I had to do was stand up and introduce myself, and he would probably do the rest…
He casually dropped something on the table in front of me, causing me to flinch ever so slightly. So much for introducing myself. I guess the shy housewife still held more sway with me than I thought. I looked over at Gina without moving my head. She was holding her coffee, much like I was, the very picture of casual indifference. She didn’t look at me, she just sipped her coffee and shook her head so slightly that it was almost imperceptible. I went back to sipping the coffee and staring, not at the salt shaker this time, but at the folded piece of paper waiting for me, a simple page from a day planner, folded in half.
After what seemed like an eternity, Gina loudly clunked her coffee cup down on the table and snatched the paper from in front of me. I was so surprised by the sudden action that I nearly dropped my own cup. I managed to guide it down for a crude landing on the table without spilling any, not that there was much left in the cup. Gina unfolded the paper and studied it briefly before shaking her head and smiling wide. “Ballsy sonofabitch,” she muttered, passing me the paper, which I eagerly grabbed and ripped open. At first glance, it was just a page of scribbles, several plans scratched out throughout the day, save one exception. At 11:30, just two hours away, there was a simple note. “Room 1640 –R” I read it, then reread it, then re-reread it before looking back to Gina. Part of my mind didn’t understand the message, or at least didn’t WANT to. I dropped the paper to the tabletop, speechless. Gina offered me a comforting smile before grabbing the paper and her things and nodding for the door. “C’mon, Mary. We have a decision to make.”
–
“1640 –R” I stared at the six characters in nice, neat handwriting on the paper. I’d read them a hundred times on the way up to the room, searching for some other hidden message, but the implication was clear. I knew it, and Gina certainly was fully aware. When we got back to the room, she sat me on the couch, the same couch we’d admired the view from just three days earlier. She stood in front of me, still wearing nothing but her skimpy bikini, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
“If you go, you know what’s going to happen, right?” Of course I did. I was innocent, but I wasn’t stupid. He wanted to have sex with me. I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come out, so I simply nodded. Gina, sensing my conflict, took a less confrontational stance. She approached me and kneeled down, her knees almost touching mine, and she took my hands in hers. “Do you want to do this?” I knew I should shake my head. Say no, shut this down, throw the paper away and spend the rest of the week walking on the beach and drinking in the sunshine. I couldn’t say no, though. I shrugged as I felt a lump forming in my throat. “Hey,” she said softly, barely above a whisper, “I don’t care what you do, as long as you don’t regret it later. If you want to go, have a great time and never mention it again, I can keep a secret. If you want to go and work on your tan, which is coming along marvelously, by the way,” the aside got a smile from me. I was getting darker by the day, a look I was coming to enjoy. Gina smiled broadly enough that she couldn’t talk for a moment, before getting serious again. “If that’s what you want, we can do that. The decision has to come from you, though.” She glanced down at the paper, now sitting on my bare legs. “You have to decide what you’re going to do with that.” She offered a comforting, if small, tight smile and patted my knee. “I’ll be in my bedroom if you need anything,” and she was gone. I lingered for a moment before going back to my room as well. I checked my phone. It was just after 10, and Frank still hadn’t responded. A million texts about not being able to find the bread, and not one text saying he was happy, sad, angry or indifferent about me having a good time.
I sat on the bed and stared down at my tan legs. Was I the kind of woman who could cheat on her husband? Back home, the answer would have been an easy, emphatic no. If R had approached me at the grocery store, I would have politely turned him down without a second thought. That kind of behavior was sinful. In St. Bart’s, though…I couldn’t say. R was very attractive, and I was enchanted by the tropical climate, or the bikini, or just the distance from anyone I had ever known, aside from Gina. Did I want to have sex with R? Even alone, even just in my mind, even after my encounter with Chris the day before and the fantasies in the lobby, it was hard to admit…but yes. I absolutely wanted it. I wanted to stop fantasizing and start acting. Frank was the only man I had ever been with. He had been fine, but even my inexperienced mind knew there had to be something more out there. If Frank was the height of sexual pleasure, sex wouldn’t have been such a force in our society. I knew that R would be more in line with what sex SHOULD be. I caught my reflection in the mirror, the same mirror I’d used to snap my one nude selfie. That word, sexy, still stuck in my brain. I got up and crossed to it. It was just a small mirror, but I could still assess myself decently well. Sexy. Yeah, I was starting to get used to that. I brushed my hair back behind my ears, enjoying the lengthening effect it had on my throat. I inspected myself from several angles, and that dark part of my mind, the part that I had repressed for so many years, because if I was honest, it had always been in there somewhere, rejoiced at every angle. It made me feel proud of myself. It made me want what Gina had had for so many years, I coveted it, I envied it, I LUSTED for it. If that made me sinful, then fuck it. Fuck it, and anything that got in my way. This was St. Bart’s, not a convent. I was going to keep having fun, I was going to really cut loose, and I was going to worry about home when it came time to go home.
In the mirror, I could see my phone, still sitting on the bed, light up, and my heart fluttered, the housewife came back to the forefront, and I was ashamed of myself, of thinking the way I had. Of course Frank hadn’t ignored me, he was doing his job and my job, so he was doubly busy. How foolish had I been? I ran to the bed and snatched up the phone to see a message from…the phone company. Our phone bill was ready for online payment. As the screen dimmed, I could see my reflection in it, twisted and angry, with a hint of sadness. I unlocked my phone and pulled up the simple nude selfie I’d taken. I studied it. Sexy. Yes, it was sexy, but it wasn’t enough. I deleted it and stomped out of the room, into the bathroom. There, a larger mirror was available. Not full length, but big enough. I stared at my reflection, concentrating on getting my rage at my husband under check. I had to look sweet, demure, welcoming. As my face began to cooperate, I untied my top, letting my B-cup breasts free, without a hint of a tan line. I stepped back against the tile wall, cold against my back, and looked toward the mirror. It cut me off at the knees, but I wasn’t there to show off my feet. Still clutching my phone in one hand, I hooked my thumbs in the hips of my bottoms and let them drop to the floor, puddled around my ankles. Staring in the mirror, a small part of my mind felt vulnerable and exposed, but I didn’t care. That part of me wasn’t worth worrying about right now, maybe not ever again. The lion’s share of my mind was on fire with empowerment. I made sure my hair was just so, swept back over my ears, and I subtly tweaked my posture, my pose, and my phone’s angle before snapping what I was sure was the best selfie I could possibly manage. I had my free arm up over my head, as it seemed to accentuate my torso, but at the last moment, I let it drop, resting my hand gently over my crotch, over my vagina…my pussy…and I cocked an eyebrow in a seductive look I had no idea I was capable of. Click. I checked the screen. Seeing my full nudity captured in digital glory got a small thrill. I could already feel moisture between my legs as I set about sending the image to Frank. The rules were simple, not that I planned to let him know what they were. I had a date at 11:30. That gave him over an hour to respond to the single most erotic act I had ever committed. If he did, I would remain faithful. If not, I would go, and whatever happened, happened. I scooped up the discarded parts of my bathing suit, and walked naked back to my bedroom, where I sat on my bed, stared at my phone, and waited.
10:30 came and went. Nothing
10:45. Nothing.
11:00. 11:05. Nothing. At 11:15, with electricity flying through my veins, I stood up. I was going to cheat on my husband. It was not a question. I walked to my suitcase and searched for a specific outfit that Gina had bought me. I smiled at the memory of Gina’s look when she heard that I didn’t have a little black dress. The shock and horror that I should be without the most basic weapon of a woman’s wardrobe. So, she bought me a slinky little black dress that I hated wearing. At least, I did then. Now, I couldn’t wait to put it on. I slipped it on over bare flesh, enjoying every inch of its soft, silky fabric sliding over my tanned skin. I struggled with the zipper before admitting I would need help, though I briefly wondered if it would be too forward to just go up with it unzipped already. I did my makeup, not too heavily, just enough to be noticeable. Some light blush, eye liner, eye shadow, and some bold red lipstick. I walked to the bed and stared at the phone. One last opportunity, Frank. Make me an honest woman.
Nothing.
Fine, Frankie. Have it your way.
–
Gina had tried to offer me advice while zipping me up and putting the finishing touches on my look, but I had brushed them off. I wasn’t looking to seduce, I wasn’t looking to get him to fall in love, I just wanted to do what we both were clearly there for. So, on my way out the door, she settled for a simple kiss on my forehead and a simple “Good luck.” With that, I was out the door with nothing but my looks and my purse. Uncharted territory. I remembered feeling vulnerable in this hallway in my bikini, like someone might look at me. I remember feeling numb just yesterday in only half that. Now, I felt strong, in charge. I pulled my phone from my purse and checked the time. 11:28, right on time, and still no word from Frank. I walked down the hallway towards the elevator, gliding along in simple black heels usually reserved for church, and punched the “up” button.
The ride up to the 16th floor was unbearably long. It gave me time to think about what I was doing. It gave the housewife a chance to question my motives. I was resolute, though. Whatever R had in store for me, I was ready, willing and able. I stepped off the elevator, got my bearings, and made my way towards room 1640, trying not to think too hard about what was about to happen, or how arousing it felt with the soft fabric of my dress rubbing against my naked flesh. 1624 passed by on the right. I, an upstanding Christian woman, was, with every opportunity to turn back and change her mind, preparing to cheat on her husband. 1630 breezed past as I picked up my pace. I wanted to be there, I was ready. 1632, 1634, 1636, I wasn’t even paying attention to the opposite side of the hallway. I could see it, just two doors away, the golden numbers gleaming like the Promised Land. At 1638, the bottom of my stomach dropped out when I heard my phone vibrate. I stopped dead in my tracks. Had I come this far, just one door away, to be stopped? Would I really stop if it was from Frank? With trembling fingers, I fished out my phone and held it up to see what fateful words awaited me.
It was Facebook. My sister had posted a picture of her dog rolling in the grass. If I hadn’t been so close to 1640, where R could have easily overheard me, I would have laughed. I dropped the phone back in my purse, all nerves gone, and approached the door. I had barely knocked when it swung open, and there stood R.
He looked even better up close. He had dazzling emerald green eyes that sparkled with youthful energy. A sly smile spread across his face slowly when he realized who I was, revealing his perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth, which seemed even more vibrant against his soft tan. He was easily in his 40s, maybe even his early 50s, but he wore his age well. His silver hair, a look that I never thought I would like, complimented him perfectly, and I found I wanted to run my fingers through it while he did unspeakably sinful things to me. He was good. I wasn’t even through the front door, we hadn’t said a single word to each other, and already, I was ready for him to ravage me. Without a word, he gestured for me to come in. It should have been a momentous occasion, a final threshold, my last opportunity to turn back. I stepped in without a second though.
His room was even bigger than ours. As I passed in, I caught his scent, a musky cologne that sent my head adrift, spinning in a sea of arousal. If he’d bent me over there, in the entryway, and had his way with me, I wouldn’t have objected. I realized, in some isolated part of my mind, that I was thoroughly at his mercy, but I didn’t care. If anything, it turned me on even more, knowing that I couldn’t say no, that I wouldn’t say no. R looked me up and down, giving me a proper chance to do the same. Standing at least six feet tall, maybe more, he towered over my petite 5’3”. He was pure class, with the same white dress shirt, with the top few buttons undone to reveal a bit of his toned, muscular chest, and the sleeved rolled up to the elbow, and black dress pants, perfectly pressed, and matching shoes, shined to a mirror finish. After a momentary assessment, R silently walked into the kitchen. I didn’t know exactly how to react, as he hadn’t exactly given me any sign to follow him, so I just stood there, awkwardly, by the front door of a stranger’s hotel room.
Fortunately, he wasn’t long. He came back with two wine glasses, half full of a deep red, almost purple liquid, and offered one to me. I had never had an alcoholic beverage before, aside from communion wine, and deep down, I knew it was a bad idea to take a drink from a stranger that I didn’t see prepared myself, but I trusted him, and I trusted that he knew he wouldn’t have to drug me to make me compliant. R gestured to the main living area, which was set up similarly to ours. I sat on the couch, my knees tight together, following my reflex to at least try to appear modest, as R took a seat on a nearby chair. The room was flooded with natural light from the midday sun. R just watched me as I sipped on the wine. It was better than I expected, surprisingly sweet, with just a hint of tart on the aftertaste. Maybe it was my imagination creating a placebo-effect, but I already felt looser, more relaxed. I leaned back against the backrest and watched him sniff the wine like I’d only seen on TV, before taking an experimental sip. After a moment, he nodded.
“The latest from my friend’s vineyard,” he said, the first words I’d heard him say. He had a hint of some exotic accent, maybe French, maybe something more far-flung, but definitely sexy combined with his deep register.
“It’s very good,” I said, doing my best to sound knowledgeable of such things as I took another sip.
He waggled his head from side to side. “It is not his best. But it is good to enjoy in the company of such a beautiful woman.” He raised the glass in a sort of toast, which caused me to blush furiously. I thought I had been prepared for what was behind the door of room 1640, but a few sentences into the conversation, I found myself entirely speechless. I racked my brain, looking for the slightest thread to grasp onto to keep myself from looking entirely stupid.
“So…R?” He nodded with a mouthful of wine.
“I prefer to keep names out of the mixture,” he said once he was able to swallow. “It keeps things from getting too…personal.”
“I suppose that makes me M, then,” I said with a smile. No names. I liked the idea. Something about not knowing his name made everything about what was to come seem…easier. Less intimidating. Naughtier.
“Ah,” he said, a comforting, welcoming tone. He stood and crossed to the couch, sitting beside me and offering his glass up. I brought mine up to meet it with a pleasant clinking sound. “To…whatever comes next, M.” It was hard to tell, with his accent, whether he was trying to sound seductive, or if it just came naturally. As our glasses parted, he took a long drink, finishing off the last of his wine. Not wanting to seem inexperienced, I did the same. As I had only been sipping to this point, I still had most of what had been poured. As I gulped down the last mouthful, it felt like a bomb had gone off in the back of my brain, obliterating the last hints of inhibitions that I might have been clinging to.
I felt dizzy, I felt lightheaded. I felt good.
I felt horny.
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Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/e38ds1/marys_adventure_part_4_of_6_fm