Original tittle: This vacation would be so much better with a yacht.
Commissioned story. I don't condone cheating. This is but a fantasy.
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Mykonos. It was THE place for partying in Greece, for people who lived for the nightlife. That's why Alda and Amalia hopped from island to island, but left Mykonos for the end. They called it "The Ibiza from Greece", and everyone described it like a truly cosmopolitan place, where people from all parts of the world came for vacation. They were no different. Foreigners, looking for the exotic experience. They visited different clubs and ate up with their eyes the gorgeous Greek men they encountered. But alas, they were married, and while they were free to dance and drink the night away, the rings on their fingers kept them from going any step forward with their dancing partners.
Amalia threw her head back, and made a sound between a gasp and a whine, as the tequila went down her throat. She was shorter than her friend and barely a bit more plump. Her elegant champagne dress was turned into a slutty one due to her huge rack. She tucked her black hair back behind her ear, and her dark eyes were teary.
'You know you're supposed to do that with salt and lime, do you?' Alda asked her with a smirk. She was the tallest of the two, and also the leanest. She had a fit, athletic body, and was showing off her back with her open-back red dress. She wasn't as blessed as her friend in the upstairs department, but they were firm and perky. Her honey blonde hair was well-kept, but what really drew men in were her green-brown eyes. Well, that, and her deliciously round butt.
'Ew. No way I'm licking my hand in public, in GREECE. Back home it could be, if it's the two of us in your kitchen, but here we're trying to keep up an image, alright?' Amalia had insisted the whole trip that they acted like high status women, whatever that meant.
'Oh, like you haven't licked way worse stuff back in college.' This earned Alda an elbow on her side. She giggled, and was about to call over a bartender, but one of them approached them first. He was carrying a plate with two margaritas.
'Some gentlemen send their regards.' The handsome bartender announced. Amalia, who loved to be spoiled, got excited and tried to grab one right away.
Alda stopped her. She gave the bartender a bright smile. 'We don't drink anything that wasn't prepared in front of us. Tell the gentlemen, if they really want to flatter us, to pay for our drinks and we'll order what we want, thank you.' The man walked away after bowing his head.
'Why did you do that? They were free margaritas!' her friend complained.
'And that's how you get roofied. No thanks. Plus, any men worth their time should have enough courage to come up to us themselves.' Alda said, holding her head up. Amalia still wasn't happy with it, but she didn't insist. They had another drink, ordered by themselves and prepared in front of them, while wondering if they should go to the dance floor, or if they could find an even better party on the beach. They were leaning towards going away, when a man came up to them. He was good-looking, with black hair and eyes. His face had a chiseled look to it, with faint wrinkles giving away the fact that he was older than them. His tan looked natural, like a man who spent a lot of time under the sun. He smiled, showing them his pearly whites.
'Hello ladies. Sorry for sending you drinks without saying anything. I mean, we did leave a card with our phone numbers, but it's true that it's too risky for women to accept any drinks just like that.' The man's body language was warm, inviting. His white shirt had the first buttons undone, and his chest showed he wasn't neither shaved nor too hairy.
'We?' Alda asked with a knowing smile. 'The bartender did mention several men.'
The man laughed, entertained by her sharpness. 'True. It's four of us.' He turned to the side, and pointed at a table. The men there raised their glasses and nodded, acknowledging them. They were all in their forties or fifties, and looked wealthy. But not the kind of "new money" where they try too hard to impress. They seemed used to being rich, and enjoying the pleasures life had to offer. 'I'm Paul. And the rest would love to introduce themselves too, if you're up for drinking together. You order your drinks. The tab is on us.'
Alda didn't jump at the invitation. She made a show of giving it a thought. Then she smiled at Paul. 'Okay. We feel like being pampered tonight.' Amalia was quiet, thinking that maybe her friend would turn them down, and then she cheered at her decision. The two women were guided by the man, over to the table where three other gentlemen awaited. One of them looked the oldest, with deep wrinkles around his eyes and blonde, almost white hair. But he introduced himself as William, welsh to the core, and welsh people aged quickly. Frederich had salt and pepper hair, with deep, blue eyes. A white man, but not as pale as Will. The last of them was Garfield, an African-American man with a deep skin tone, who wore many golden rings on his fingers.
Fred greeted them with a raised glass. 'Ah, beautiful women like you are what make vacations worth it. Thanks for coming.'
'Thanks for the invitation.' Amalia tried to come off as a glamorous, high status woman. Alda, instead, took it easy. It was natural for her to lead conversations, and pretending to be a character for so long would be too tiring.
They talked about what they did for work, as adults do. After breaking the ice, they spoke about their travels. The men had way more mileage than them. Perks of having a private jet. Amalia commented in a not-so-subtle way 'Oh, I wish I could ride a private plane one day. It must be so luxurious.'
Fred smiled. He was a bit reserved at first, but now he was all about the girls' company. 'Well, a ride on the private plane might not be possible unless we're going to another country. But how about you ladies join us in our yacht?'
Alda took a sip from her drink. She tried to not seem overly impressed. 'You have a yacht?'
