It was starting to get dark as Scott packed the suitcases in the car; daylight fades quickly in the middle of October in the mountains. While it wasn't exactly sunbathing weather, the slight chill in the air definitely could have been worse. He had on a polo, light jacket, and khakis, dressed like some amalgamation of every L.L. Bean catalog model known to man. As far as looks went, well, while he wasn't quite model material he wasn't too far off. A little over 6 feet tall, with wide shoulders and a relatively trim waist he looked a bit like a competitive swimmer. OK, like a retired competitive swimmer that enjoys the occasional six-pack. His dark hair and eyes to match could have allowed him to check off the 'tall, dark, and handsome' box on any online dating site if he felt the need.
Luckily he had no need for that. His wife, Jenn, was getting in the passenger seat of the car as he was closing the trunk. While they didn't look alike in the least, they went well together, or so any of their friends would have told you. She was a shade over 5 feet tall, fair-haired, fair-skinned, and blue-eyed, with looks that easily could have been in an L.L. Bean catalog, if the catalog came from Dublin. While having never been to the land of St. Patrick she looked every bit the part of the prototypical Irish lass, if Irish lasses had a perfect, heart-shaped ass and a beautiful pair of C-cups sandwiching a waist that he could almost completely wrap his hands around. In short, she was a knockout, even dressed as she was in her normal travel attire of sweats and a hoodie. If you asked him he would tell you she was even more of a knockout dressed as she was. While a well-made up model can be strikingly beautiful, there's something about a relaxed, natural beauty that makes her all the more sexy.
"Did you check the lights and lock up?" he asked her as he settled in behind the wheel and started the engine.
"Um, yeah, only about 4 times, as usual," she gave him a bit of a smirk as she said it. Her occasional OCD about things such as leaving the lights on was a well-known and traveled path between them.
"One of these days I am going to torture you by tying you up in the middle of the living room, turning on all the lights, and leaving for the day," he chided her as he pulled out of the driveway.
"What, do you want to cash in the life insurance policy on me? Hell, you know that would give me a coronary after about 20 minutes!" she punched him in the arm as she said it, with a look of playful shock on her face.
"Nah, you are a lot more fun when breathing. But it's nice to know I have options," he teased.
She just stuck her tongue out at him and said, "You suck!"
"Well, since you mentioned it, that will be your job this evening. One of your jobs I should say."
She gave him a sideways glance, with just the hint of a smile creasing her eyes. "Oh really? Just one of my jobs? Are you saying there will be more?"
"Yes, in fact there will be several, none of which I will share with you right now. But you do get a gold star for trying to find out." he said, with just a hint of sarcasm. "In fact, if I remember the rules of our agreement, you are officially my property for the weekend already, are you not?" There was no mistaking the teasing tone in his voice this time. It was the voice of the kid holding a fist full of Monopoly cash that just built hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place. He hadn't won the game yet, but he knew he was going to.
"What do you mean?", she asked. "We aren't even at the resort yet!" she said with a hint of trepidation in her voice.
She knew what he was like, and knew that he would push her boundaries if he could. Not that she minded when he did. Well, not usually. She was always ok with it after the fact, but her lack of experience compared to his when it came to games like this always seemed to make her a little nervous. He was fully aware of that and often used it to his advantage, tempting and teasing her just enough so that the slight bit of fear she felt would only increase her excitement level.
"I might," he said, after a slight pause. "It's within the rules for me to do so," he said in a businesslike tone, with a slight grin on his face being the only clue that he was feeling anything but businesslike right now.
"What are you wearing underneath your hoodie?" he asked. Her hoodie was the zip-up type, and the zipper was up towards the top; high enough to hide any decent view of her breasts.
"Just a t-shirt, silly." she chided. "Why?"
"Well, I think that's a bit much on a nice day like this. Lose the shirt." he stated firmly.
She gave him a bit of a frown. "Really? Now?" she asked, but it was a rhetorical question since she already knew the answer.
"Yes, now, and if you question my request again this weekend I will put you over my knee, pull down whatever you are wearing, and spank your ass till it glows red." He was more than firm with his words this time. "No matter where we are. I don't care if we are in the middle of dinner at the fanciest place in town, I will do it. So lose the shirt, and don't question me again, understood?"