Part III -- The Bikini
I woke the following morning having once more slept later than normal. Again, the sun was shining brightly and it looked like it would be beautiful day. Although George was absent - so he's an early riser, I can live with that - yesterday's anxiety was replaced by contentment as I hugged my pillow and grinned. Eww, my face is so crusty! Another sheepish grin as I recalled the reason and then I spied a robe neatly folded at the foot of the bed, but to my surprise, it wasn't the same white one from yesterday. It was black satin with white piping around the edges. Near the bathroom door my purse rested atop my duffle bag. Damn, that man was a walking contradiction! So thoughtful, but equally demanding when I needed it. Oh my god, another revelation! But how did he know that? Or, as he might say, was I the happy match to his proclivities? Either interpretation was perfectly acceptable. Who wants to argue with happiness?
Joyfully, I leapt from the bed, grabbing the robe in the same motion and trotted to the bathroom. Just like yesterday, a fresh towel lay folded on the vanity and I tossed the rob beside it, followed by a much needed stop on the toilet.
I stood and went to the shower. It was wet, so obviously he'd used it earlier, and, just as obviously, I'd slept through it. And what's this? Hanging next to the blue scrubby I'd used yesterday was a new pink one. As with so many things, he anticipated my needs. So basic, and, yet so endearing.
The first order of business was washing my face. Next my hair. As I soaped up the scrubby, I remembered Siu's advice about exfoliating my newly waxed pussy. However, before I did, I couldn't resist sliding my fingers across it. Wow! Definitely different, but definitely better too. So soft, so smooth, so slick. Consider me converted. But enough dawdling! I scrubbed my pussy vigorously, and, damn, that felt good too! Now for the rest of me.
As I dried off before the vanity mirror, I paused to drink in my reflection. I'd never done so before. Previously self conscious, I'd always hurried to get myself covered. But not now. I admired my breasts and, oh yes, my smooth pussy, then turned to reveal my ass, recalling how George had introduced me to the heretofore unknown erogenous zone with his tongue and thumb. So unexpected and yet, I had accepted the delightful novelty with an enthusiasm I could never have imagined.
George was right, I rejoiced proudly, I am one hot bitch! And, damn, it was great to be alive. But, a little voice nagged, am I a slut? I suppose so, at least for George when the time is right, and I'm okay with that. Alright, more than just okay.
Snapping out of my reverie, I hung the towel on a bar beside the tub and, unabashedly naked, went to the bedroom and removed my toilet kit plus the salve from my purse. Although I didn't want to keep him waiting, I still wanted to present myself properly. I did my hair, brushed my teeth and applied the ointment to my pussy - another distraction - plus some makeup. One last check. Perfect.
I slipped on the robe, the silky fabric falling to mid thigh, lightly caressing my body. I wondered if he knew how this would affect me. Of coarse he did -- in some ways he knew me better than I did myself. But what's this? A defect? Hardly! Embroidered above my left breast in white cursive letters was "Naughty." How wickedly thoughtful.
I tied the sash and headed downstairs towards the kitchen, but as I approached, I heard music. Pausing to listen, I heard a beautiful voice, lamenting a lost love and it touched me deeply. "I'd rather go blind than to see you walk away from me."
Wow!
I entered the kitchen. George sat at the counter, a cup of coffee before him, wrapped in his white robe, and although he appeared to be reading his tablet, I could see he was softly singing along.
"Good morning!" I said, startling him.
Turning to me, he replied with a bright smile, "Good morning, I didn't hear you come down."
Standing and extending his arms, I approached him, welcoming his embrace as he kissed me deeply. This is how all mornings should start.
Releasing me, he asked, "Coffee?"
"Yes, please," I confirmed and, as he poured a mug, "She has a lovely voice, but it's a such beautifully sad song."
"Indeed it is. It's Etta James," he said, handing me the coffee
"I've heard her name before, but I must admit, I'm not familiar with her work. Oh, and thanks for the robe," I replied as I added sugar and took a couple sips. Damn, he makes good coffee.
"You like it?"
"Very much. It's so tastefully trashy, if there is such a thing."
"My specialty," he grinned. "It wasn't easy getting it on such short notice, but fortunately I remembered that Siu's cousin runs an embroidery shop. The robe itself was easy enough."
The song ended, followed by a familiar strain of violins. To my surprise, George took the coffee from my hand set it on the counter, and once again embraced me.
"Here's one of her songs everybody knows," he said as he swayed, encouraging me to follow, and she began to sing:
At last, my love has come along. My lonely days are over...
Neither of us spoke as we slowly undulated to the music, my head leaning against his shoulder. The poignant lyrics pulled at my heartstrings as a few tears of joy trickled down my cheeks and as the music ended, he tilted my head and I gazed into his contented expression.
"Are you okay?" he asked, concern suddenly crossing his face.
"More than okay," I replied as I wiped my cheeks. "I'm just so happy and the song really touched me."
"That's a relief. I thought you might be upset. You know, rushing things between us."
"Not at all. I know it's all been very sudden, but everything feels so...right"
"Exactly. I didn't plan for
At Last
to play at that moment. It just did and I couldn't resist."
"It was lovely, and now maybe I'm rushing things, but it perfectly summarized my feelings."
"Well, now that it's out in the open, I couldn't agree more. Like I was said yesterday, when something this certain comes along, you've got to seize the opportunity. You might never get the chance again."
I didn't reply, but pulled myself against him and held him tightly as he followed suit. I don't recall how long we lingered in the moment, I just know I didn't want to let go. Ever.
Still holding me, he said, "Our coffee's getting cold."
Reluctantly, we parted, sat at the counter, drank our coffee and each others eyes.
Breaking the comfortable silence, he said, "I'm afraid I have some bad news. We'll have to postpone our sailing."
"Why is that?" I asked, disappointed.
"The forecast changed. Originally, some storms weren't due until this evening and now they're saying to expect them around two. It's not that we couldn't go, it just wouldn't be much fun. Not to worry, summer is just starting."
"Okay, but what will we ever do?" I replied, batting my eyes.
"I'm sure we'll figure something out," he replied, grinning. "But first, how about some breakfast? I brought prosecco along with some fruit and cheese for our outing. What would you say to a mimosa and we'll eat out in the gazebo? We might as well enjoy the weather for as long as it lasts."
"Sounds lovely. Anything I can do to help?"
"Definitely. Let me get it ready and you can lend a hand moving everything outside." George stood and, taking his coffee, sipping as he went, walked around the counter to the fridge, where he removed orange juice, the prosecco, several plastic containers and various cheeses. "I hope you don't mind being informal."
"Not at all," I replied, as I drank my coffee, totally content to watch him move about preparing our food and making mental notes on where he kept things. It was an efficient arrangement - I should have expected nothing else. The breakfast bar stepped down to a standard height where a black gas cook top was centered on the countertop running perpendicular to the bar, providing ample workspace on either side. Drawers and cabinets beneath stored pots, pans and cooking utensils. Opposite that and separated by about eight feet, a large, modern French door fridge and double wall oven, both black, flanked a large sink with a dishwasher mounted to one side below the counter. More cabinetry lined the far wall providing a tall pantry on the left with upper and lower cabinets on the right. All together plenty of room, but everything readily within reach. Somebody knew what he was doing!
In just a few minutes he'd put the fruit in a white porcelain bowl, loaded the cheese out on a platter along with some crackers and placed everything on a teak tray along with silverware and two plates.
"So this is informal?" I teased as I motioned towards the tray.
"Okay, maybe not, but don't we deserve it?"
"I can't argue with that, but you certainly are full of surprises!"
"Really? Most people find me rather predictable, but I hope you're not disappointed," he volleyed as he went about opening the champagne.
"I'm far from disappointed, but predicable? The question is whether it's because we just met or if they don't know you like I do."
"Hmm, good point," he replied as he wrapped a kitchen towel over the cork with one hand, and twisting to the bottle with the other, liberated it with a soft pop.
"So which is it?" I asked as he mixed the cocktails in a couple of large white wine glasses and handed one to me.
"Cheers!" he said as our glasses clinked and we both took a sip. Was he avoiding the question or just pondering his answer?
"You take the drinks," he continued as he handed me his glass. "I'll get the tray and we'll continue this discussion over breakfast."
We settled ourselves at the table in the gazebo, sitting next to each other in some comfortably cushioned wrought iron chairs. After unloading the tray's contents on the table, he handed me a plate, fork and napkin.
"Help yourself," he said.
As I spooned some from fruit on our plates and passing one to him, I couldn't help but ask, "So which is it?"
"Thank you. Well, I suppose it's more a case that I've let you see a side of me that very few know and those that have, generally didn't want to learn more. And at work, I'm pretty much all business, not that I don't kid around, but I want to get things done so that I can enjoy my time away from it."
I paused slightly, playing for time by getting some cheese while formulating my reply.
"It's certainly no surprise that your...what should I call it? Your non-work persona? Could be intimidating."
