April in Texas

Nude, I'd fallen asleep, laying out on the balcony at the Menger Hotel. Any number of hotel guests, above our floor, could see me. Louie had wrapped the balcony railing with towels that hid my display from the kids in the pool below. Stomach down, back exposed, I don't know how long I slept, maybe a half hour. What woke me was the touch of Louie rubbing sun tan lotion, cool lotion, on my backside.

That winter, I had been tanning in booths in Ohio, I always stay tanned. But the booths give me triangular white patches below my butt. Never did figure out why, I guess my cheeks flatten and cover those spots from the tanning bulbs. I have seen the same spots on girls' butts on the internet. Plus I tan in a bikini, so I have a lot of 'white tail' area. Louie was gently rubbing the oil on me, a nice deep massage, and a nice gesture so that I wouldn't burn raw in the Texas sun.

"I think you're done on this side," he said, and he rolled me over.

I turned my head his way and I opened my eyes. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, the towel flapped and let me know that he was nude too. His muscular physique glistened in the son. I reached my hand in and rubbed his cock, I could still taste him in my mouth.

"What time is it?"

"Around 4:30, maybe later. Your cell phone was ringing, better check it."

"When?"

Louie was now massaging my front side. He started tugging my toes, my joints, and he worked up each leg. Deep manipulations. He knew better than to finger me with that suntan grease on his hands. My cell phone was next to him.

"It rang a while ago, your phone will tell you. Here, see for yourself."

I lifted myself up on my elbows and checked the 'missed calls'. It was Lamar who had called, who else. I saw his number and pressed send.

"Lamar...what do you want?"

"I thought we'd all be getting together tonight."

"Lamar, we don't have any business to do. I was taking a nap when you called. Now Louie's giving me a massage...no, he won't answer my cell...yes, I'm nude...he is within reach...no, I am not...enough of that Lamar, what's your point?"

"Sheryl," Lamar said, "I've made dinner reservations for four at a great restaurant. My wife is excited to meet you guys. So we want to do it tonight, dinner on the company. Let Public Entities pay. I'll pick you guys up at the Menger at 6:45. Ok?

"Sure...ok...who'll argue about a free meal on Public Entities. How nice is the restaurant? Should I wear a dress or jeans...is it formal?

"Yeah. Louie should wear a coat and tie, and....I don't want to tell you guys what to wear, or not to wear. You're such an attractive couple, be yourself, you'll look great."

"Ok. Come by our room with your wife...Mindy, right? We can have a glass of wine, or maybe buy you one in the Hotel Menger bar. Louie wants to drink there, he really does. He read that it's the same bar where Teddy Roosevelt recruited the Rough Riders for the Spanish American War. Just come to our room. See you. Bye."

All the while Louie continued with his massage. He stood over me, working my pale white breasts. I enjoyed his long massages, he'd check my breasts for lumps, and he'd examine the moles on my back for swelling. He liked the personal touch, occasionally, of taking care of me. I dreamt of rewarding him with some special sex, if I was drunk enough, later that night.

"Looks like dinner tonight is with Mr. And Mrs. Lamar," I said. "And I don't have a clue what to wear."

"That's easy," Louie said. "We'll get ready, shower and stuff, but we won't get dressed until they get here. Once we see what they're wearing, we can match it. I have pairs of slacks, I can throw a sport coat over them, or go with a polo shirt. If they show up in jeans, we'll wear jeans. It is San Antonio. What's Mrs. Lamar look like anyway?"

"I'm not that sure, why do you ask?"

"Come on, Sheryl. When couples double date, you want to be an attractive foursome. Have you ever met her?"

"No, this will be the first. But I've seen pictures of her. I'd say that she's better looking than Lamar. We'll see soon enough."

At precisely 6:45 we heard a tap on the hotel door. Louie had iced down a Texas Chardonnay, a Llamo Reserve, barrel aged. Glasses were set at the round table near the balcony doors. Following Louie's suggestion, I had not completely dressed. My bathrobe covered my underwear, Louie's did the same. I had on a pair of broad white lace hipster panties, a matching white lace bra – something that I could put anything over. And my makeup was nearly ready. Louie answered the door and invited Lamar and his wife into our suite.

Lamar had on a brown suit, a straight business insurance man's suit. Wherever we are going, it's air conditioned, I thought.

"Sheryl, Louie...this is Mindy."

"Nice to meet you," we separately though politely responded.

One glance told me that she was the quiet type, or that's what she wanted to project. And better looking than Lamar, a lot better. Brown hair, about 5'5. She was dressed conservatively, heels, hose, a gray wrap around dress tied at the waist, cut slightly above the knee. But the dress did highlight her figure, and Mindy had a figure.

"Sit down, people. Louie, pour them some wine. Relax for a few while we finish dressing."

When Mindy sat, her dress opened a little, and I caught a glimpse of the lace top of her thigh high stockings. Actually her dress opened a lot and she knew it. Her stockings had the wide, four inch lace tops, the expensive kind from Victoria's Secret. She knew she was showing her legs, and her gaze was focused on the belt on Louie's bathrobe. "Christ," I thought, "you just met the guy."

We didn't actually plan it, but Louie and I simultaneously went through the motions of getting dressed in our hotel room. Forget privacy. Louie got up, he took his bathrobe off, and he walked around the hotel room bare-chested loose in his boxer shorts – all the while drinking wine and asking Mindy about Texas wineries. When he walked over to refill his wine glass, he stood close to where Mindy sat. She reached out and patted his ass. I didn't...object...but she had her hand on my husband's ass. He was teasing her, and she him. They were quite comfortable together.

I took my robe off too. My bra and panty set was...brief. It covered as much as a bikini, though more see through. I added some highlights to my makeup in the hotel mirror, while we continued to chat. I settled on a bare shouldered maroon shift with a short hemline that zipped up the back. Louie chose his linen sport coat and black slacks. Lamar and Mindy paid more attention to Louie primping around than they did to me.

As Louie was tying his tie, Mindy got up to 'help' him. She stood directly in front of him, she straightened his tie, and she pressed herself into his body. "There, that's better, " she said. Lamar sat there smiling.

"You look really great," Mindy said to Louie, "we're going to have a nice night together."

I pulled my dress on. When I adjusted it I noticed that my bra straps stuck out. It fit nicely, it was tight and hugged my curves. But I wasn't going out to dinner, dressed up, with my underwear hanging out. I took the dress off and I pranced back and forth, undecided about what to do. The solution was obvious. I faked frustration.

"Is there a problem?" Louie said.

"I can't wear this bra with this dress."

"Then don't wear one. I don't think you need it. That dress holds you in place." Turning to Lamar and Mindy, he said, "What do you guys think? Should she go without the bra?"

"Only one way to judge," Mindy said. "Try it without the bra."

I turned so that I was facing the three of them as they sat waiting on me to decide. "Ok," I said, and I reached behind my back and undid my bra. As they watched, I removed my bra and tossed it on the bed. I stood there in my thin panties, bare breasted, in front of Lamar and his wife, whom I had just met. Bending their way, I reached out and took my wine glass. As I took a sip I posed for them – hand on hip, legs open, wine glass to my lips – as I stared out over the balcony. The falling Texas sun cut through the curtains and illuminated me like a spotlight. The wine was sweet, and I spent the next few minutes doing nothing but showing off my body for my husband and for our Texas friends.

Then I turned and I walked across the room. Picking my dress up, I pulled it back on and I adjusted myself into it. Not missing a beat, Louie was out of his chair and lifting the zipper on the dress for me. I added matching open toe heels, no hose. Looking at my image in the mirror, it was a nice fit.

"I'm ready, let's go."

We rode together with Lamar in the company car, and that was a good thing. We would have never found this restaurant, not with our limited knowledge of San Antonio. Lamar turned left here, he turned right there, he may have been lost himself. But he found it, and it was an unusual find.

What we found was a two story building in an expensive rehabbed neighborhood. The interior was entirely new, remodeled. The first floor had a retail store that sold herbs, pottery, furniture and some antiques, and the restaurant was up the stairs on the second story. A restaurant upstairs is not totally unique – there's one in Columbus – but it is unusual.

It was one of those open kitchen restaurants, small, twelve tables or so. The hostess was a very attractive blend, maybe one – fourth black, slim, about 5'7, with firm round boobs and a high ass. She seated us at the best table in the place, in the center of the restaurant. When she bent over, I caught a nice flash of her chest, and I'm sure that Louie did too.

The staff came close to outnumbering the guests. Three different gals doted around our table. Lamar and I discussed whether, or not, the company would pay for wine; whether we should put that on a separate tab so as to avoid reporting our consumption. The wine list was great but for one thing – the lack of Texas wines. They had one Texas wine on the list. When I visit someplace, anyplace, what I seek is local cuisine and local wine. There is nothing better, Louie has taught me and I believe, than food and wine that is produced in the area.

One special of the night was fish, a bass of some type. The bass was, according to the waitress, raised on a Texas fish farm not far from San Antonio. "It was swimming this morning," she said, " and it can be on your plate tonight. It's served with an herb sauce and highlighted with giant gulf shrimp. And all our selections come with house salad, our own fresh bread and choice of potato."

She was a cutie, a blond hair, blue eyed perky Texas gal who knew how to work her table. Did she smell 'expense account?' I think so.

"And this Texas wine you have, how is that?" I asked.

"It's from Becker vineyards, and it's the only Texas wine we carry. I find it exceptional in comparison to other oak aged, barrel fermented Chardonnays. It will be splendid with the bass, I recommend it."

"Then bring a bottle of the Becker, four glasses, and we'll try it," Louie said. He didn't care about Lamar's expense account, he always kept an extra few hundred dollar bills on him where no one would ever guess them to be. "Bart Maverick, not Brett," he'd say, whatever that meant.

The other special was rack of lamb. Our wonderful waitress explained that the lamb was from near Johnsonville, that it was small Texas spring lamb that had never tasted grass. "These are so small and sweet, you get the whole side, all fourteen ribs. It sounds like a lot, but the loins are tiny. They have been marinating in a honey Dijon sauce. We roast these over open flame, and only when ordered."

"Wow...well...Sheryl?"

I nodded. He knew to order the specials. A special in a fine restaurant will, most often, highlight a chef's creativity. Louie spoke for us, "she'll have the bass, and I'll have the lamb. Please bring the Becker Chardonnay now, and when the lamb is served, bring a bottle of the (he pointed the bottled out on the wine list) Leone de Castris Salice Salento, the '97. That's a fair price for such an exceptional wine."

Lamar and Mrs. Lamar each ordered free range chicken off the menu. So much for their taste in food. To anyone who has not been around those filthy birds, 'free range' means shit eaters. Picking shit with the chickens... 'free range' birds are the sewage system of the barnyard. At best, they eat bugs. I won't order it ever. But we were comfortable, getting further acquainted, and enjoying the Becker Chardonnay as we waited on our food.

In every possible respect, my food was fantastic. And so were the wines. Louie's lamb looked the same and smelled the same as the flame roasted rack he had once ordered in Orvieto. My fish was superb, and I believed the waitress as to how fresh it was. Their chicken? They seemed to enjoy it. And they enjoyed the wines. We finished of with a split of Lungarotti Vin Santo, while Lamar and Mindy had decaf coffee.

"Was everything all right?", the attractive hostess asked us as she wandered among the few remaining guests. "Let's see...not much left on these plates. Does anyone care to see the desert tray?"

"I'm fine", I said, "no desert."

"We're full too," Lamar added.

"You can help me," Louie said. "I don't see the restroom. Where is it?"

"Actually, it's on the first floor, down the steps," she responded. "It'll be easier for me to show you, come on, follow me." Louie took a last sip of the Vin Santo, excused himself, and walked away with the hostess.

"How long have you two been married?"

"Five years," Mindy said, "though we lived together for a year before that. I have a daughter, Karen, from a prior marriage, she was living with us, but she moved in with her boyfriend. Now we have our house...to ourselves."

"And we're taking you there once we've finished with our coffee," Lamar said. "No objections. I'm the driver, right? We've captured you two, kidnapped you, and we're taking you home with us."

"Whatever you say, Lamar, so long as you return us to the Menger at a reasonable hour. That suite was too expensive, we are going to sleep there tonight."

"My daughter's room is available," Mindy added, "I could have it ready in no time."

"No thanks. But I did bring a bottle of the finest wine made in Ohio, a Markko Cab Sav, as a present for you two. We could drink that at your house."

"Then we need to get going," Lamar said. "What's taking Louie so long?" Lamar then motioned for the waitress, and she presented him with the bill. He placed the Public Entities VISA card in the plastic folder. A minute later, and after adding in the tip, he was signing the line. We were ready to leave.

We saw Louie climbing the stairs with the hostess. Her blouse was disheveled, and her lipstick smeared. I sensed that she had shown Louie more than where the restroom was. He's not a pushover though, he never was.

The coffee perked Lamar enough so that the drive to his house was uneventful. It was a medium size house in an older area of town, probably built in the fifties. My guess was based on the size of the trees in the yard. Small lot, two story house. They led us inside, and the front room was a surprise. Lamar had converted the living room into a rehearsal / recording studio for his rock and roll band. It was completely set up – full drums, guitars, amps, electric keyboard, microphones, it was as if the band was there rehearsing that day. I knew that Lamar played piano, but I didn't expect his house to be a recording studio.

Immediately Lamar and Louie started talking about music. Louie played a few notes on the keyboard, strummed a few guitar chords, banged the snare drum a few times – he knew how to play enough to fake it when he felt like it. Lamar and he were talking about jazz when Mindy offered to show me the rest of the house. Leaving the men alone, she led me through one room and then another. In the extra bedroom upstairs, there was a picture of a young woman who I assumed was her daughter Karen. The young woman pictured was thin, well built, and very pretty, and she was in a very revealing pose. To me, it appeared that the photo was cropped just above her nipples.

"She lived with us until she was nineteen," Mindy said, answering my questions before they were asked. "Lamar raised her, she has no contact with her real dad."

I laughed. It was hard for me to imagine Lamar as a father figure.

"Why'd she move out?"

"She wasn't comfortable having her boyfriend stay here."

"You'd let her have her boyfriend stay over?"

"Yes. Lamar encouraged it, and frankly she got tired of his routines, tired of playing by his house rules. He's very demanding."

"Really. And what was so bad about his rules?"

"Well...Sheryl...when we first married Lamar insisted that Karen leave the bathroom door open. She was fourteen. He'd watch Karen shower. We also would...visit the nude parks, the beaches, the lake up at Austin, and we'd take Karen with us. He liked having her around nude to attract attention. From when she was young, we always bathed together, and once she'd matured, well..."

"Lamar has always had a thing about watching, and using women to attract attention," I said.

"He would photograph Karen nude...then Karen and me, nude together, and with other nudists at the parks. It grew into my taking photos of them together. But believe me he wouldn't touch her, not when she was a minor."

Too much insurance law, I thought.

"Karen went through a few boyfriends, she'd bring them home once she turned eighteen. At first, Lamar would secretly film them having sex. Then he became more bold. Karen was required to undress, completely strip, in front of us – house rules - and in front of every guy she brought home. Lamar loved watching the guys react."

"He always insisted that Karen have sex with her boyfriends while we watched, insisted that sex be out in the open. And then, we started to join in with them. Then her new boyfriend, a guy who claims he loves her, stood up to Lamar. And they moved out. They've been gone four months."

"Was Lamar screwing Karen?"

"No. You know Lamar better than that, don't you? Lamar would watch, he'd watch Karen's boyfriends fuck her, he'd take photos of Karen with them, he'd take photos of me nude with her boyfriends. The guys didn't care. Hey, it was a lot of fun, I admit it. I'm thirty six. Lamar hasn't screwed me in over three years. It was the only sex I was getting at the time."

"Jeez...you're not bullshiting me, are you? Lamar hasn't screwed you in three years?"

"Don't tell Lamar I told you this. He'd die if he thought you knew."

"Well what do you do now that Karen's gone?"

"One of Karen's first boyfriends...a twenty three year old guy named Eric...he got into the crazy sex stuff, the photos, and he really likes me...Lamar lets me have him over, if I ask his permission. He still watches us, but it's different. Eric bosses Lamar around, makes him put clean sheets on the bed and wait on us. Lamar goes into a trance of obedience, he'll do whatever Eric asks."

"What does whatever mean?"

"Lamar must prep me for sex to Eric's liking. He does my toenails, perfumes my body, dresses me in erotic outfits, keeps me shaved. And he must thank Eric, whenever he visits, for taking the time to screw his wife."

"Mindy...you're telling me these things...I don't know you that well, but...why don't you leave? Games like that are weird. Lamar is abusing you in every way, just because some boy toy enjoys the pleasure doesn't make it right."

"And you don't play games, Sheryl?"

Then I heard Louie's voice, calling from downstairs.

"Where's that Markko? I want to open it for Lamar and Mindy."

"I'll be right down," I yelled back.

Minutes later, I heard the distinctive pop of a sound cork being pulled from a sound bottle of wine. Markko wines, from Conneaut, Ohio, are exceptional. The four of us sat in a family room, the room with the TV, the couch and the computer. We each sipped glasses of Arnie's Reserve Cab.