I saw Marco staring at Ana's ass as she exited the cab. It didn't bother me. I'm not normally a jealous person, but if I were, Marco would be the type to set it off. Wealthy, handsome, Latin. His staring didn't bother me at all though.
I exited through the other door, and then turned to hand Isabella out of the cab.
"Gracias senor," she smiled, stepping out. She walked over to her husband Marco and I put my hand in the small of my Ana's back as I passed her. I opened the door to the villa to let us all inside.
"Nos casa estan sus casa," I smiled ushering them in β 'Our house is your house.'
Well, it wasn't really our house β we were renting it for two weeks β Ana and I. A fortieth birthday trip for her. We're beach people; sun, sand and sea. A beach front villa in the Caribbean seemed like the perfect spot for us.
One week into the trip and we were on island time. The villa had come with a private beach and Ana had been sunbathing au natural. My dear was nut brown, which REALLY set off her green eyes and dark blond hair. The sun had bleached it out even more then usual and I couldn't keep my eyes off of her as she lolled on the beach in the all together. You would never know she had turned forty the week before as toned, trim and tight are all adjectives to describe her figure. Cute feet, nice legs, tight ass, small but pert breasts tipped with brown nipples β I never get tired of looking. Sweet oval face with full lips dying to be kissed, sparkling green eyes full of mischief. She's a head turner. Exotic. She was born in the Azores but raised in the US.
You can't spend ALL your time on the beach or making love (or both). We tried, God knows we tried, but you need to eat on occasion. It was on one of those forays into town for sustenance that we met Marco and Isabella.
We had decided to actually go out for a night, poke around town a bit. Ana put on a white, off the shoulder sundress. Cinched at the waist and flowing. Twelve buttons ran from the waist to the hem. She only buttoned the top four, showing a nice expanse of tanned leg when she walked. Low sandals that laced up her calf. As is her wont on vacation, she wasn't wearing underwear. I could see her dark nipples as distinct shadows through the thin, white material of her dress.
Me? Mr. Island. Khaki Linen pants, blue silk shirt with subtle island print, loafers with no socks. Unlike my love, I DO wear underwear. Silk boxers.
We took a cab into town, shopped a bit, bought the typical souvenirs for our families. Stopped for dinner and then strolled into a water front bar for a few drinks. There was a guitarist playing and singing on an open air patio facing the bay. We sat down out there and pulled our chairs close to one another. My hand found its way over to Ana's leg and I idly stroked her thigh through the thin material of her dress while we sipped our drinks and listened to the singer.
"He is very good," a voice with a cultured Hispanic accent said from behind and to my left.
I turned to see if the voice was speaking to me. He was. A handsome, mid fifties gentleman with a stunningly beautiful companion. She was much younger, thirty at most. Latin appearing; he with gray close cropped hair, fit and lean, darkly tan; her with high cheekbones, dark eyes, jet black hair pulled back. Ripe figure, slim but round hips and full breasts. Expensive clothes on both. White silk Havana pants and a shirt for him, flowing beige dress and sandals for her.
"Yes, he is," I replied smiling back at him.
"You are Norte Americanos?" he asked, not by way of a challenge, but simply making conversation.
"Yes we are," I replied. "Y Usted?"
He nodded, acknowledging my Spanish, but continued in English, "We're Argentine. I am Marco and this is my wife Isabella."
"Con mucho gusto," I replied. "I'm Bob and this is Ana."
We invited them to join us, or they invited us to join them β I really don't recall. We got to know them a little better, Isabella was his second wife β Argentina was more cosmopolitan then I had realized. Marco owned an estancia that his family had been able to hold on to during the bad years when much of the privately owned land was nationalized.
They were on holiday β it was summer in Argentina, winter here. We told them about us. We're not married but very much a couple. Second time around for us both, neither feeling the need to 'legitimize' what we have β WE knew it was legitimate, celebrating Ana's birthday here in paradise.
I had noticed Marco looking at Ana. I was used to that. Ana draws male attention, she doesn't try, she just does, she has 'it' and doesn't know she does. What's 'it'? Hard to describe. Ana is pretty, yes but she's not a fashion model. She has a nice figure, but it's more then that. She commands your attention when she comes into a room, subtly demands it.
Anyway, as I said, I'm used to it, it doesn't bother me. I didn't mind him looking. Ana is mine and she doesn't want anyone else. Actually, I enjoyed his looking. For that matter, it appeared Isabella was looking too, at Ana not at me. She was nice to me, friendly, but her eyes kept stealing back to Ana, she kept trying to engage her in conversation. I was pretty amused and wondered if Ana had noticed. She usually does. She wasn't doing anything to encourage either of them, but wasn't doing anything to discourage them either. She knew I enjoyed her flirting as long as it didn't get out of hand and she kept her hand on me for the entire time. I really do love her.
We had a few drinks, laughed, danced, laughed some more. Ana danced with Marco. Maybe he stood a little too close, but nothing to take objection to β very much a gentleman. Before we knew it, the bar was closing and we were being asked to leave.
"We were having so much fun!," Ana cried. "It's early, why do they have to close! Come to our place on your way home, it's beautiful, right on the water. We can walk on the beach."
"We would be honored," Marco agreed. "Gracias."
We took a cab back to the villa and I handed Isabella out of the cab and we welcomed them into our 'home'.
Ana breezed through the house, opening the large French doors looking out to the sea. We all watched her move.