Author's disclaimer and warning: There are no nice people in this story.
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"I do feel sorry for you, Herb."
Gazing at his wife Claire's beautiful features bathed in the mingled glow of Polynesian moonlight and the flickering beach torches, for an instant Herb Henderson thought he saw a trace of real concern. Perhaps her fiery hazel eyes even held a shadow of regret for what she had done. Not long ago he'd have clutched at her words as a fragile thread of hope.
He knew better than that, now.
"Just remember that this was all your own fault." Claire rose from her seat in the beach chair next to his and sauntered a dozen steps across the sand to stand before their employers, Simone and Burke Chandler.
The four were alone on the beach. Herb could barely make out the distant sounds of revelry from the reception back at the restaurant, borne across the lagoon by the warm night breeze. An hour ago Simone had suggested that the Chandlers and Hendersons wander off from the party together for a while. "Just a little private celebration among old friends, away from the crowd." Among the attorneys and staff at Travis & Chandler, Simone's "suggestions" carried more than the force of law. After all, at T&G the law was nothing but a medium to be deformed and reshaped by sharp attorneys to secure the interests of their international clients. In contrast, the Chandlers ruled their domain like sovereigns.
Claire wore a black micro bikini that was no more than three tiny triangles of mesh fabric held in place by a web of thin elastic cords. It barely covered most of her large dark nipples and the little mouth of her vagina. When she walked, the flimsy garment failed at even that limited mission: with every swaying step forward across the white sand, her taut thighs parted and the pink of her moist labia winked tauntingly back at him.
But then, she'd chosen the suit not to conceal but to tantalize. It served as both provocation and as an invitation. She had worn it to the reception and had not worn much more at the wedding itself that morning. She hadn't stood out in that regard among the group of sybarites that the Chandlers numbered as close friends and professional associates.
Claire leaned forward and pressed her open mouth to Burke's, sealing their lips in a long, deep kiss. Burke's hands came up under her arms as if he were going to lift her off her feet, which Herb was sure the big man could do even at such an awkward angle. Instead, he ran his thick fingers along the sides of her delicate rib cage, over her tiny waist, and on down to caress her buttocks. He cupped the firm cheeks and spread them wide. The little mesh triangle of the G-string slipped forward, completely exposing her vulva. The cord that secured it rode up between her rosy, engorged cunt lips. Her open pussy gleamed in the torchlight, wet and dark and as inviting as the ocean lapping at the island shore.
Simone watched their clinch with more than mere approval. Her tongue flicked out between her teeth to dab hungrily at her upper lip, her hands slipping into the folds of the loose sarong that was her only cover. She lightly touched her nipples, excited by what she saw and what she knew was yet to come.
Burke wasn't handsome. He had a brutish magnetism that set him apart from and intimidated many of his Ivy League colleagues in the boardrooms and courtrooms that were his world. He was tall and built like a draft horse, his shoulders and chest corded masses of muscle. In mid-life his dark hair was salted with steel gray and he had gone a little soft in the waist but he still projected an aura of masculine power.
Claire unbelted his beach robe, exposing his stiffening penis. His dick matched the rest of him: as big around as Herb's forearm and nearly as long, heavily veined, a great bludgeon of a cock. He was not yet fully hard. She moved her hand to his crotch, her fingertips danced lightly along the underside of his prick from the balls up to the blunt, apple-sized glans. Taking a step backward, she undid the ties at her hips and let her suit bottom fall to her ankles. She kicked it carelessly away into the dark. She pivoted with a dancer's grace, planted her feet wide apart in the sand, and bent forward from the waist. Hands braced on her knees, she presented her hairless pussy to her boss—all the while gazing directly into her husband's tortured eyes.
"This was all your fault."
The words burned in Herb's consciousness, searing him to his core. What Claire said was true enough. Yet his own sins seemed trivially banal when taken against the magnitude of her retribution.
His wife, daughter, and son had all turned against him. He didn't expect better from Noah; Herb had written the kid off years ago as a hoodlum and a loser. But what Claire and Robyn were doing was unfathomable and obscene.
For over twenty years Herb Henderson had poured all his life's energy, skill, and ingenuity into his career to become an equity partner at Travis & Chandler. Claire had often accused him of caring about nothing else, and he had to admit that he couldn't refute that based on the evidence. He'd pursued success ruthlessly and by unconventional means and, when at last the dice had fallen against him he'd learned that his allies were not his friends. Alliances were only transactions. He'd arrogantly dismissed more durable qualities such as trust and personal loyalty. If he had any defense at all to offer, it was that he had emulated Burke Chandler's own example through all of it.
All of which had finally led him here tonight, to this private island on the far side of the world from New Derby, agreeing to participate in a humiliating travesty of a wedding. It was his last desperate bid to salvage something from the ruins of his life.
Burke sipped at his Bacardi, then leaned forward on the rattan couch and inserted a blunt finger into Claire's pussy. Her lips formed a surprised little "O" that quickly widened into a lewd smile. She shoved her hips back, wordlessly inviting him to probe her more deeply. He slid another finger into her moist, hot depths and worked them casually in and out. "Awwwhhh," she sighed, breathing in little gasps. "Oh! Oh,
fuck
..."
