"Only three more months until vacation!" she exclaimed over her nightly glass of wine.
"You don't have to remind me, I can't wait" I replied, taking a sip of my ale. "If anything, I'm more excited than you are!"
She smiled at me, her green eyes twinkling. "You just can't wait for vacation sex!"
"Guilty as charged! The things I'm going to do to you..."
"Behave" she teased. "I'm going for the cultural education."
"Not me," I said as I leered down at the ample cleavage on display in her low cut blouse. "I'm going to ogle you on the beach! Speaking of, did you know that Mallorca has a topless beach?"
There. I had finally come out and said it. I'd been building to this moment ever since the day we booked our hotel in Palma de Mallorca. You see, I've always had a fetish for seeing my blonde wife exposed and topless. Im my mind, her womanly, curvacious body was perfect. Not too tall, not too short, her short blonde hair accentuated her girl-next-door prettiness, while her hips made nice handholds. And her breasts, large and more than a handful, but still pert, and capped by tiny pink aureolas were the crowing jewel. I loved seeing them, and I got a special thrill when I even had the idea that someone else might view them as well.
Not that we'd ever done much besides the occasional flash in a car ride, or a braless night out when we were far away from anywhere family or friends could see. But this was something different. Something new. Something ... beyond what she might have expected.
She looked at me, but didn't respond right away. What was probably less than a minute felt like an hour. Did she think I was a pervert? Did I go too far? "You would like that, wouldn't you" she said as she smirked at me.
"Tell you what," I said. "I'll make you a deal. I'll go to the doctor if you'll give me a topless day at the beach."
I could tell she was considering it. After all, she'd been on me for over two years now to finally find a doctor and get a checkup. Finally, she looked at me, smiling, and said "What the hell. I won't know anyone there. You've got yourself a deal!"
***
Fast forward three months, and we are about to get off the plane for three days in Mallorca. I couldn't believe how beautiful the beaches here looked from the sky, white sand and clear water. But as we taxied to the gateway, I noticed that the skies had started to cloud up. By the time we got to a taxi, a slight drizzle had begun. When we checked into the hotel, it was a downpour. Although it was late afternoon, any topless time would have to wait. I just crossed my fingers that the rain would let up before tomorrow.
As we always do, we made the best of the situation. We boarded a bus and found a restaurant the concierge recommended. Although it looked like a hole in the wall, to this day it's still the best paella I've ever had. Then we walked the streets of Palma as the rains cleared up. We were having such a good time, just enjoying each others company. We stopped in too many bars to remember now, and tossed back too many drinks. We were just two twenty something American tourists in love, having the time of our life.
Finally we stumbled back to the hotel. As happens with a night of drinking, we'd gotten hungry. However, by this late hour the only place open was the hotel bar. A nice Greek bartender helped us get some appetizers despite our mangled Spanish, and we sat back to enjoy the food. After we ate, we each ordered a drink and took in our fellow travelers. To our left was a pleasant older couple, and to our right was a reserved, slightly younger couple. The four of them were speaking French, of which my Jane knows nothing, and two semesters in high school left me with about eight words. We listened, but we didn't comprehend.
"You're the French speaker, my love" Jane said to me, with that mischievous grin of hers. "Go ahead and try talking to them."
Well, I did, and it was the disaster I could tell she predicted. All five of them started laughing, but before long they switched to English and the laughter continued, as did another round of drinks. It turned out that Marc and Sofia (the older couple) were on vacation from Argentina, but happy to practice their (much better than mine) French with Pierre and Laura, from northern France on a quick one night and the next day vacation. After a third round of drinks, Marc and Sofia left, and left Jane and I alone with Pierre and Laura. Here is the part where I should add that, while Jane and I are certainly not unattractive, Pierre and Laura are stunning. Pierre must have been 6'2", and even under his t-shirt I could see the man was muscular. He was the quintessential tall, dark and handsome. Laura was petite, but gorgeous, dark hair flowing to her shoulders, and even wearing her t-shirt and skin tight jeans I could tell she had the body of a dancer. As far as I could tell, Laura's only physical flaws were that she was fairly small chested, and she wasn't Jane.
We continued to drink, and chat, and laugh. They were great company. And it certainly didn't hurt my night that Pierre kept stealing glances down Jane's low cut shirt. But as all good things must, the night was at an end. We said our goodbys, and headed our separate ways back to our own rooms. As it was 3am by this point, Jane and I quickly fell into a deep sleep in our comfortable king sized bed.
***
"AHHHH!" Jane shouted as the sunlight flooded in from the glass doors, as I threw back the curtains. "What the hell?"
"Come on babe, it's past 9am! Look, sunshine! The beach looks gorgeous! Lets grab breakfast and go."
"Fine, fine." She wasn't a morning person. "Well, it does look pretty out there."
"And, uh, don't forget our deal" I nearly whispered as I stared at her chest.
"Lord, how could I forget, what with you staring at my tits all the time!"
