Writer's Note: This is a story for adults over eighteen years of age about adults over eighteen years of age. While the storyline is true, the dialog has been compressed for the sake of time and space. Safe sex was not an issue in the early sixties and seventies but should be a concern for everyone today.
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I suppose that where ever you live, tourists are always a breed apart from the native population of an area. That is certainly true of tourists who visit Florida every year; you can spot them from a mile away in their bright colored shirts with palm trees, Bermuda shorts, and, of course, socks with sandals; who does that other than tourists? They come to the Tampa Bay area by the thousands each year and are completely surprised that you know they are tourists. They spend millions of dollars to get sunburned and see stuff that most native Floridians have never seen. I was in my forties before I ever saw a guy wrestle an alligator and would not have seen it then except for taking a friend from Ohio and his family to see it. All I had to do was go hiking to see alligators and rattlesnakes.
Of course, among all of the tourists, there are women who come to vacation with thoughts of romantic strolls along the beach in the moonlight with a tanned, young stranger that the folks at home will never know about; certainly not their Pastor or, in some cases, husband. I learned early in my life that a warm smile and minding my manners could lead to spending the evening with an attractive, mature woman who just needed some good loving; I learned to love tourists who visited my little part of the Sunshine State.
I was just leaving a meeting in the restaurant at Tampa's Holiday Inn; when I entered the lobby and headed toward the front door, I heard a woman's voice.
"Excuse me."
I turned to see two mature, attractive women struggling with an unfolded map smiling at me. They were obviously tourists judging by their pale complexion, tropical attire and the cameras strapped around their pretty necks.
"Yes, can I help you?"
"Are you familiar with the area?"
I smiled, "I am; I grew up here. What are you looking for?"
The brunette smiled and asked, "We would like to have lunch at the Kapok Tree Restaurant, but we don't know how to find it."
The Kapok Tree Restaurant had been a tourist icon and local favorite for decades. It was located closer to Clearwater Beach than Tampa, but it was out in the country and rather difficult to find.
I glanced down at their nicely displayed cleavage sprinkled with an array of cinnamon colored freckles then back to their pretty smiles. "Where y'all from?"
They flashed bigger smiles at my southern accent then almost said in unison, "Davenport, Iowa."
"Then which one of you works at the Rock Island Arsenal?"
They looked at each other with surprise then the bottle blonde asked, "I do; how did you know that?"
I laughed, "The Army has sent me there a few times; I know it's the largest employer in the area, so I took a guess. Next question, when was the last time you had a pizza and a cold beer at Sneaky Pete's?"
They laughed then added, "Last week before we left coming to Florida."
"By the way, I'm Will," and held out my hand and each woman took it and introduced themselves in turn.
"I'm Abbey," said the short-haired, blonde with a smile as she removed her sunglasses with her left hand; I immediately saw a set of wedding rings on her finger.
"And I'm Carrie," added the brunette with shoulder length hair and only a class ring on her left hand.
The women were, no doubt, sisters and in their late forties or early fifties. Their short, hip hugger skirts and mid-drift tops showed off their shapely, snowbird white torsos.
I asked, "How good are y'all at driving back country roads?"
They looked at each other with questioning facial expressions. "The Kapok Tree Restaurant is in the middle of nowhere, about thirty to forty minutes from here."
Carrie spoke up, "How about if we buy you lunch and you show us the way?"
"Carrie! You don't just pick up strangers like that; he could be a serial killer or something."
Without a smile, I told her, "Your sister is right, I am a serial killer, but I have given it up for Lint so you are safe for another five days."
Carrie starred at me for a moment then broke into a smile and smacked my shoulder, "I think I will just take a chance on you."
Abbey wasn't so sure so I told her, "Take a picture of me with your camera and leave your camera with Jose at the desk. He knows me and can tell the police where to find your body."
Carrie laughed at her sister when she snapped a photo of me then walked in the direction of the desk with her camera. We headed for the parking lot and put the top down on their rented, 1970 Ford Fairlane 500, convertible and got in; I straddled the transmission hump and sat between the two women.
For a while, we tried shouting over the sound of the wind in the convertible until we decided to turn on the AM radio to one of the local rock n roll stations. Neither woman seemed to mind when I kept time to the music by patting my hands on their bare knees.
During lunch, we had several cocktails and some very spirited conversation that got rather sexual at times. Carrie and I enjoyed a little under the table play during the conversation; Abbey didn't have a clue.
After telling me about her pending divorce and cheating husband, Carrie asked, "Have you ever been married, Will?"
"I have; I was married for six years. I have been divorced for two."
Abbey asked, "Did you cheat on your wife?"
"No, but I didn't have too; we had an open marriage and partied together with other couples and, occasionally, singles. We still see each other from time to time for a little ex-sex. Have you had ex-sex yet, Carrie?"
Carrie giggled then blushed, "A few times."
Abbey leaned close and lowered her voice, "Are you serious? You have been sleeping with that bastard after how he treated you in court?" She asked then followed up with, "And why haven't you told me? I tell you everything."
"We haven't been sleeping together, it was just a few quickies then I sent him home. I didn't plan on it; it just happened when he came over to get the rest of his stuff from the attic. My attorney said it was okay as long as I didn't let him sleep over or leave any of his personal items there until the divorce is final."
"Geez, Sis, you called your attorney to ask if you could screw your ex?"
"No, the subject just happened to come up when we were on his office sofa naked one afternoon."
"Oh my word, my sister is turning into a slut," Abbey lamented then laughed.
I jumped in, "That's not fair, she's single and needs some regular loving; come on, give her a break." I looked at Carrie and scolded her, "But you should have at least invited your sister to join you in a threesome."
That broke the spell and everyone laughed. I ran my hand higher up Carrie's bare, inner thigh hoping it would be hidden by the tablecloth; she opened her legs a little wider to give me access, smiled and winked at me.
Abbey looked at me with a very sultry look, "So you have had threesomes with your ex; what's that like?"