This story was written at the request of and for a member and his wife, based upon some ideas they gave me. It is my Valentine's Day gift to them.
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Scott opened the sliding glass door and walked onto the balcony in bare feet. It was morning and the clouds over the ocean had not broken up yet. The balcony floor and the air around him still were cool. But the weatherman on the radio had said it would be sunny and warm later, and the shafts of light piercing the morning gloom overhead hinted that the forecast would soon come true.
Scott stood with his hands on the railing, his hotel room behind him, and the vastness of the Pacific Ocean in front of him.
It was Valentine's Day.
Scott's home, a small village in rural England, was thousands of miles behind him. He and his wife, Laura, had decided to take a vacation for a week in February, leaving damp and gloomy England behind for the relative warmth of Southern California. They had left the kids behind, in the care of Laura's parents. Scott felt a bit guilty leaving the kids back home, but he and Laura needed some time away, time for themselves.
So far, the trip had satisfied all Scott's hopes and desires. The weather had been perfect, with sunny days and temperatures high enough that they spent two days lying on the beach. They spent another day visiting Disneyland.
The day before, Scott had convinced Laura to wear a skimpy bikini to the beach. He had bought it for her—a size too small. Sure enough, the top had barely enough fabric to contain her DD-sized breasts. The strings on the bottom tied tightly on both sides of her hips, and the little triangle of red fabric stretched snugly over the mound between Laura's legs, concealing little. Laura felt self-conscious about it, at first, and she didn't want to wear it. She told Scott that a bikini like that one was only for skinny girls. Laura wasn't fat, but she had curves and hips and some roundness in her tummy, and she worried about her body spilling out of and overflowing the tiny bikini in ways that didn't conform to the standards set by fashion magazines. But Scott insisted, and Laura gave in.
Thank God, she did, Scott thought, because ogling his wife in the tiny bikini on the beach all day had been one of the most erotic experiences he'd had in a long time. She'd never worn anything like it in public before. It was one thing to see a model wear a bikini like that in a magazine. But to see his wife -- his shy, sweet wife, a primary school teacher, wearing a tiny bikini like that . . . it was beyond sexy. It was like a dream. All day, on the beach, her skin exposed to Scott and to everyone else, Laura had lain on the blanket or walked around on the sand or waded ankle-deep (the water was too cold to do more than that) into the surf. Scott had noticed other men walking by, sneaking glances at his wife's body. He felt a tingle between his legs every time he saw them do it.
One of the great things about Laura, Scott thought, was that, unlike many English women, she had olive-toned skin, which tanned easily. She could lie out on the beach for hours without burning, and Scott, horny beyond belief, could stare at her all day. When the afternoon grew late and the sun perched low over the water to the west they went back to their hotel room, and Scott stripped off Laura's little bikini and fucked his wife long and hard. Afterward, he lay on the bed, spent and sweaty. Laura lay next to him. She wanted to get dressed, but Scott wouldn't let her. He wanted her to be naked for him. So, she stayed that way the rest of the night in their room.
It turned him on to think of it now, looking over the water in the morning, but he knew it was nothing compared to what was coming. Scott was nervous. He didn't know what to expect. He didn't know how he would react when it happened. He didn't know how Laura would react. Scott had a plan, and he hadn't told Laura about it.
Scott had a very unusual Valentine's Day celebration planned for his wife. He and his wife had long needed to do something special with each other, and for each other. Scott thought his plan was just the right thing. He hoped Laura would agree.
Scott turned away from the sea and walked back into his hotel room. Laura still was in the bathroom, getting dressed and ready for the day.
She didn't need to get dressed, Scott thought. But she didn't know that. Not yet.
A loud knock sounded at the door. Scott looked at his phone. 10:00 a.m. Right on time.
He opened the door. A tall, slender man, dressed in a well-pressed light-blue Oxford-cloth shirt and dark pants, stood outside.
"Scott?" he asked.
"That's me," said Scott.
The man held out his hand.
"I'm Simon," he said. "I'm with the Agency. I believe we have an appointment. May I come in?"
Scott held the door open, and Simon walked in. His manner was different from what Scott expected. He had an air of brisk efficiency, and subdued cheerfulness. He looked to be in his mid- 40s. His hair was dark but graying and cropped short. He looked like someone who might sell you a car, or help you file your taxes. He didn't look like . . . well, whatever it was that Scott expected, based on what he knew, or thought, was going to happen today.
Simon carried a black leather gym bag. He looked around the room as he entered.
"Your wife is getting ready, I assume?" A blow drier roared dully from the other side of the bathroom door.
"Yes, she is," said Scott. "She should be out in a minute."
"Okey dokey," Simon said. "I'll get things set up while we wait for her to come out."
Simon moved quickly. He pulled a compact, black device out of his bag and hooked it up with cables to the large screen television facing the king-sized bed in the hotel room. He pulled a flash drive out of a pocket in the bag and plugged it into the device. He turned on the television with the remote. A minute later he appeared to be done and seemed satisfied. Scott watched, fascinated, and he tried to figure out what, exactly, Simon was doing.
Moments after Simon finished, Laura emerged from the bathroom. She wore a short pink sundress. Her hair still was slightly damp from the shower. She noticed Simon right away, and looked with curiosity at her husband, and then back at their visitor.
"Hi, I'm Laura," she said. "I don't think we've met."
"I'm Simon, Laura. It's nice to meet you. I'm looking forward to our lesson."
Nobody moved for a few seconds, and Laura looked from Simon back to her husband, uncertainly.
"Lesson? What do you mean, lesson? Scott, what's up?"
Simon looked puzzled for a moment. Then things became clearer to him.
"Scott, you didn't tell her? Naughty boy. Well, that's going to make things more interesting."
"Tell me?" Laura said. "Tell me what? You're not trying to sell us a time share, are you? Scott and I already have talked about that and we're not --"
"No, Laura," Simon cut her off. "I'm not selling you a time share. I'm here at Scott's request. Why don't you sit down on the bed next to Scott, and I'll explain."
Scott patted the bed next to him. "Go ahead, Laura. Come here."
Laura hesitated, but she didn't know what else to do, so she sat next to her husband. She was aware that she was exposing a lot of her bare legs to the strange man under the short dress.
Simon pulled a chair out and away from a little desk against the wall, turned it around, and sat down in it, opposite Laura and Scott.
"Laura, I'm with the Agency. I'm a trainer. A few months ago, your husband contacted us, and he told us he was interested in our services. We explained what we do, where we do it, how we do it. This trip was set up for the training. I guess Scott didn't tell you that. Usually, we like it when the husband lets the wife know well in advance what's going on. But I've done it this way before, too, and it usually works out. So, anyway, I'm here to start the training."
"Training?" Laura asked. "What do you mean, 'training'? What kind of training do you do?" Laura's hands were in the air and she was looking back and forth between Simon and Scott, completely confused.
Simon kept his eyes focused on Laura's. He paused for a beat, until everyone was quiet.
"Laura," he said. "We train wives to become sluts."
Laura's jaw dropped open. She couldn't find the words to say anything. Scott sat stiffly and nervously next to his wife. He wasn't sure what to say or what Laura was going to do.
Simon smiled and held his hands open in a friendly gesture.
"I know that sounds weird. You don't even know me. Let me explain."
Simon paused again to let his words sink in. There always was a moment of shock, even with wives who were prepared. Simon was accustomed to it. Laura closed her mouth, and she looked steadily and evenly at him. Simon knew then that she was ready to hear the rest, so he continued.
"We've spent a lot of time talking to your husband, and getting information from him. He's told us all about your sex life. He's told us about your fantasies, about how the two of you talk all the time about your being a slut and being seen and being fucked by other men. I know about how the two of you have dabbled in exhibitionism. Going outside without panties --knickers, whatever you call it. He told me about the time the two of you drove to the park and he got you naked and strange men walked up to the car and wanked themselves while you spread your legs. I think you Brits call that 'dogging.' I love that word!"
Simon laughed and paused again. He knew there was a lot for Laura to digest. It was best to keep things light, and not too serious.
"Laura, your husband also told me that since having kids there hasn't been as much time for your fantasies, and even for sex, as you would like. You share the same fantasies. But you haven't had the time, or the energy, or maybe the discipline, to turn those fantasies into reality.
"That's where we come into the picture."
Simon let that thought percolate in their heads for a few moments before he continued.
