Confidence Is Key

As I. Beryl Robins, was flying from Chicago O'Hare to Dulles International outside Washington, D. C. on my way to Grand Cayman Island I was filled with angst. Sitting next to me in First Class was my wife of nine years, Daphne. She was the primary cause of my anxiety. I'm not the most observant guy in the world so it took me almost a decade to figure out that she was a manipulative self-centered bitch of the first order. My only excuses for that were that she is also charming (when she wants to be) and hot, clearly at least a 9.8 on a 10 point scale -- at least according to my tastes. She's the only woman with that degree of hotness who ever expressed any romantic interest in me; at least given my poor powers of observancy.

I've always been a highly motivated person; my high degree of motivation -- at least according to my friends and what family members weren't dysfunctional -- causes me to have blinders on in social situations. However, it does lend itself to financial success -- which I have achieved -- and physical fitness -- which I also have achieved.

Another excuse for my pain tolerance and lack of observancy is my background. Despite my high degree of motivation I also had a really bad attitude and violent tendency when I was a teenager. Despite getting good grades in school I got into many fights and scuffles and even pulled off some petty crimes. I started changing when I was 17 and one of the High School football coaches. Bill Dotson, caught me doing something that was on the borderline of a misdemeanor and felony and gave me a way out -- come out for the football team (which was shorthanded since it was a relatively small school that emphasized other sports).

Not only was Dotson not someone to mess with (he was 6 feet six inches tall, weighed 260 pounds, and could easily bench press 300 pounds), but he was about the only adult male that ever seemed to give a shit about me. I turned my violent tendencies into success on the football field as a defensive end and with Dotson's tutelage got my previously white hot temper under control. In college I also played defensive end at a Division II school and my female counselor helped me take courses and get counselling to further reign in my temper. By the time that I graduated I was almost a mellow-fellow, although deep down I always wondered if I'd fall off the wagon if provoked; and I still had those "blinders" on in social situations.

Anyway, on the plane a motion picture of how many ways that Daphne had denigrated my confidence and my worth as a sexual being ran at high speed through my head as I leaned back against the seat. Featured in the color movie in my head were her snide remarks about my choice of clothes, hair style, and taste in general. There were also the unfavorable comparisons of me to some of my male friends or men in the media. There were the rolled eyes when I was interested in being romantic, or looking for sex. There were the less than subtle hints that she'd rather be doing something else than interfacing with me; although she certainly seemed to enjoy the material things that my high level of business motivation provided.

I guess that I overlooked these slights and disparagements until I no longer could. Receiving a verbal report of infidelity from a close business associate of mine was almost embarrassing beyond my ability to handle it.

Only to have no doubt about Daphne's transgressions I had a private investigator do a little more investigation after the report from my business associate and the P. I. found her affair easy to confirm.

The only reason that I didn't dump the bitch immediately was because of my lack of confidence in my ability to ever find another suitable mate. I had not yet concluded -- which I hopefully sometime would -- that I was worthy of love and had a right to not be cheated on.

***********

The trip to Grand Cayman had been planned for several months -- before I found out about Daphne's cheating -- to get us away from the brutal Chicago winter. The day we left it was 10°F with six inches of snow, an overcast sky, and a 25 mph wind in Chicago, and 81°F with a 5 mph breeze and bright sunshine in Grand Cayman. I wasn't going to miss that weather for a week or so for anything; I put my problem on hold to the extent that I could.

Daphne made the travel arrangements and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why we went through Dulles. In her normal inimical way she apprised me of the reason only after we got to Dulles. "There's a remarkable little craft store only about a ten minute taxi ride from there, so I'm visiting it during the three hour layover we have," she smiled as we get in the people mover.

"You mean we have to get our luggage and then go through security again?" I wailed.

"It's no big deal; Carol says that I really need to see that store," Daphne snarled. Carol is one of her best buddies, also hot, but also as big of a bitch as Daphne is. I refused to go to the store with her and instead stayed with our luggage outside the check-in counter, moving both of our (fortunately) roller bags with me when I needed to move around, go to the men's room, or get something to eat or drink.

My perception of the situation changed about five minutes before Daphne returned from her sojourn. Norah O'Donnell (the CBS lead newscaster) and her husband Geoff Tracy came into the airport and went up to the same airline counter that I was waiting near. How do I know Norah O'Donnell's husband's name? I have a "thing" for her and have absorbed most of the public information about her and her family.

I guess most guys -- if they will admit it -- have a celebrity crush or two. I have two -- and only two; Norah O'Donnell and Katherine McPhee (a lesser known actress and singer). They don't really look that similar, although they are the same height (5 feet 8 inches or 173 cm if you use the metric system). They both do have lovely faces and pleasant public demeanors; something that I thought that Daphne had when I married her. Actually, Daphne still does, it's her private behavior that's the problem.

My eyes were probably bulging -- I even put on sunglasses to hide them -- while I tried to surreptitiously ogle Norah. She looked as beautiful in real life as on TV. I noticed that she had a very distinctive roller bag that she checked, primarily red with a white diagonal stripe.

When my lovely but bitchy wife returned from her escapade she had only a small bag with the craft store's name on it with her. "Didn't the store meet your expectations?" I asked since Daphne isn't known for modest spending habits.

"Yes it did; it was as great as Carol said it would be. I'm having most of my purchases shipped directly home; there's too much stuff to take with us to the Cayman Islands," she grinned. Well at least her shopping spree had put her in a good mood. After her reply she looked at me quizzically and asked "Why do you have sunglasses on?"

Obviously I wasn't going to tell her "To keep people from noticing me ogling Norah O'Donnell," so I took them off and replied "There was a short period of bright sunshine coming through the windows, but I don't need them anymore." I did get a good look that Daphne didn't catch at Norah's perfect ass disappearing into the TSA line.

My day got brighter when we arrived at our gate and found that Norah and Geoff were on our flight, also in first class. Since it wouldn't have been rational to put my sunglasses back on in the dim gate area, I had to be very careful not to be too obvious checking Norah out. I knew that I'd never forgive myself if I didn't talk to Norah but I didn't want to be obvious about it either. Then inspiration struck; I remembered one of my business associates talking about the great meal he had at Chef Geoff's restaurant in D. C., one of the restaurants owned by Geoff Tracy. I got up my nerve and walked over toward him just as he stood up to stretch his legs.

"Hi, Geoff; you don't know me but I'm Beryl Robins," I said with a smile and not looking at Norah. "I just wanted to tell you that you're getting great word of mouth advertising for Chef Geoff's in the Chicago area. Three of my friends have raved about the meals they've had there," I smiled.

Of course he had to smile at my words -- and so I exaggerated that it was three friends instead of just one -- so sue me. I followed it up with "I will definitely go there if I'm ever in Washington on business."

We chatted a little more, and then he introduced me to Norah, who had been watching us. "Oh, I forgot, you're married to Geoff," I smiled at her and shook her hand -- a lightning bolt traveling up my spine as I did so. "My favorite newscaster married to who I might find out is my favorite restauranteur in Washington -- if I ever get to go to Chef Geoff's," I smiled.

After another minute of happy talk first class boarding was announced; so they headed toward the gate. I went back by Daphne to get my carryon bag while Norah and Geoff proceeded to the ticket taker. "Is that Norah O'Donnell that you were talking too?" Daphne asked.

"Well I was talking to her husband and then he introduced me," I said as nonchalantly as I could. Daphne normally watches the ABC news with David Muir, while I watch Norah, but she has a high opinion of Norah too.

As a further coincidence, Norah and Geoff were seated just across the aisle from Daphne and me. I introduced them to Daphne before the coach passengers boarded, and Daphne chatted with Norah for a few minutes on the flight without being bothersome.

When we landed in Grand Cayman, Geoff and Norah preceded us off the plane and stopped at a store in the concourse while Daphne and I proceeded directly to the relevant baggage carousel. The airline that we flew gets first class baggage out first, so we waited only a minute before our luggage came. After I lifted both of our checked bags off the conveyor and we moved off to the side Norah and Geoff weren't there yet -- and I noticed a shady looking guy look around, and then lift Norah's distinctive looking red and white roller bag off the carousel. As he moved toward the far end baggage claim exit I told Daphne "Wait here -- I think that guy is stealing luggage because I didn't see him on our flight." I didn't mention to her that I knew it to be Norah's bag.

It took me about 50 meters before I caught up with the guy. I grabbed the roller bag and said "This isn't yours buddy."

"Yes it is," he snarled, trying to pull it away from me; but my grip was stronger than his.

"OK then, tell me what name is on the luggage tag," I said knowing that he couldn't see the tag because it had a flap covering it.

"Let the fuck go if you know what's good for you," he snarled.

"You're not leaving with this bag, asshole," I snarled back.

He suddenly pulled out a knife -- it was a small one -- and before I realized it started to slash at me. He did scratch my left forearm, but it was a minor cut. Suddenly my violent tendency from my youth reared its ugly head and before I knew exactly what happened he was lying unconscious on the floor. I think that I instinctively kicked him in the balls with a roundhouse kick then smashed his face into my upwardly moving knee -- but I'm not really sure since I had seen red.

A woman screamed and two security officers ran over, one male, one female. They saw the cut on my arm, the knife lying next to the perpetrator, and there was a glimmer of recognition when one of the officers lifted up his face for a good look, so they didn't assume that I was the bad guy.

I showed the security officers the tag on the luggage and explained the situation. I presented them my passport and told them that I was staying at the Ritz Carlton and gave them my cellphone number.

The female security officer seemed to want to be sure that I had a good impression of Grand Cayman and not to cause me any angst. In a beautiful Caribbean accent the female security officer said with a smile "We know this guy; he's a bad man; please enjoy your stay on Grand Cayman Mr. Robins; we'll take him to the police. Also say hi to Elena -- a waitress at the Saint June restaurant at the Ritz; she's my sister."

"I certainly will," I smiled back.

"And have your arm looked at; there's a first aid station in the main concourse near the United ticket counter."

"Thanks Coraline," I replied, reading her name tag, "I will, and thanks again for your help and prompt response."

As I grabbed Norah's suitcase and started back toward the baggage claim I was hoping that Norah hadn't arrived yet and I could just leave the bag there. No such luck; Daphne, Norah, and Geoff were all staring at me as I returned.

"What happened?" Daphne asked.

"I hadn't seen the guy who took this bag on the plane," I replied motioning toward Norah's suitcase, "so I demanded that he tell me whose name was on the name tag. Instead he pulled a knife and I went off on him. Turns out it's Norah's bag."

All three looked shocked.

"Your arm is bleeding," Norah said staring at my left forearm.

"Oh it's just a scratch," I said before Geoff and Daphne interrupted me at the same time.

Geoff's voice was the most clear. "You really need to have that looked at."

"Well, one of the security officers told me to there's a first aid station near the United counter..." I replied before I was interrupted again by Norah taking my right arm and said "Let's go there then."

Norah, Geoff, and even Daphne made a big deal out of the situation, much to my embarrassment -- but also joy since Norah was holding my right arm. It only took five minutes to be treated at the first aid station -- it really wasn't that big a cut, although there was a fair amount of blood -- so shortly the four of us were in van-sized taxi and on the way to the Ritz.

Geoff insisted that he and Norah take Daphne and me to dinner. I suggested the Saint June restaurant at the Ritz since the security officer's sister works there, and right in the taxi he made reservations on his phone, for 7:00 p. m.

When we got up to our room and the bellman left Daphne was much nicer to me than normal; she didn't question my judgment at all. Her main question was "Who was lying on the floor when the security officers got there."

"The perp," I nonchalantly replied.

"How did he get there?"

"Not sure, exactly; after he knifed me I think that I roundhouse kicked him then smashed his face into my knee," I grinned.

"Really?" she asked, obviously in awe. I don't know why she was surprised; after all I am six feet two inches tall and two hundred fifteen pounds (down from my football playing weight of two forty) and she knew that I played college football (although she knows nothing about the sport).

When I saw a gleam in her eye my hormones -- completely inspired by Norah -- overwhelmed me. The thought "So what if she's a cheating slut," instantly ran through my mind, shortly followed with "she's hot and if you fuck her doggy you can pretend that it's Norah." It was less than two minutes later that Daphne was lying naked on our hotel room's bed with her legs splayed and her fingers in my hair as I licked, sucked, and fingered her labia and clit with an intensity I had rarely before displayed.

Two minutes after that she was screaming in orgasm.

She had not yet come down from her climax when she was on her hands and knees and I was licking her cunt from behind.

Ninety seconds after that my rock hard cock was buried in her pussy in one stroke, precipitating primal groans from both of us.

The next five minutes or so were the most passionate intercourse I ever had in my life as I imagined that I was pumping in and out of Norah. I came like a volcano, so hard that Daphne actually passed out for the first time in our relationship, and I was on the verge of being comatose myself.

I did somehow keep awareness, but when I withdrew and then pulled Daphne next to me and started sucking on her tits even though her eyes were still fluttering while she was in never-never land, the most euphoric feeling of my life came over me.

Daphne and I either passed out or fell asleep. When we woke up and looked at the clock it was around 5:30. "You animal," she grinned -- playful, not nasty, for the first time in a long time. "You fucked me unconscious."

"Not sorry," I grinned back.

"If my spine isn't a wet noddle I need to get up and get ready; after what you did to me I'll need a full hour and a half to look presentable," she moaned.

She didn't really get a full 90 minutes to get ready because still inspired by Norah I put her hands on the large ornate shower stall walls, got behind her, grabbed onto both of her mammaries like my life depended on holding onto them, and then fucked her again. She almost collapsed onto the shower stall floor, but I kept her upright and then did completely wash her off because she was in too much of a stupor to do it herself.

We arrived at the restaurant only five minutes late; Daphne was walking funny and her mind was still not working perfectly after our forceful sexual encounters. Geoff and Norah were waiting for us just outside Saint June restaurant. The dress that Norah had on was much more provocative than the clothes she wears for the evening news and I had to tell my cock "down boy" even though it had made two massive deposits in Daphne's pussy shortly before.

When we approached the blond attractive hostess I asked "Would it be OK if you put us at a table that Elena serves; I know her sister."

"Sure," the hostess smiled and led us to a table with a great view of the ocean.

After we chatted a while and perused the menu a cute black woman who looked a lot like Coraline but much smaller and younger, approached our table. When she did I stood up and with a big smile said "You must be Elena; I met your sister Coraline at the airport today."

Elena immediately beamed and with a Caribbean lilt even more dear than her sister's with her own mischievous smile replied "You must be the guy that she called me about. I'm supposed to make sure that I don't try and steal your luggage or otherwise piss you off or I'll end up in the hospital." Then she broke out in a laugh.

The dinner experience was great; the food, the service, the ambiance, and the conversation. Elena really went out of her way to see that we were happy, and we had light chatter with her several times during the meal about Grand Cayman and what sites to see. Surprisingly Daphne went the entire dinner only making two or three snide remarks about me to Norah -- which I tried to ignore but which raised Norah's eyebrows. Geoff paid and having gotten to know him -- he was a generous stand-up guy -- am sure that he gave Elena a big tip; she certainly had a big smile on her face as we left.

After everyone else had passed me I turned, put a Cayman $50 bill into Elena's hand and said "Thanks for your great service; and since I couldn't tip Caroline for how nice she treated me at the airport you're the beneficiary of this in her place."

I think that I made a friend for life; at least that's what her tight hug and tear in her eye indicated.

***********

Although all four of us were tired from our trip -- and Daphne and me from two vigorous fucks -- we decided to go to the nightclub for a few dances. None of us were big drinkers, but we were big tippers so we got a nice table. We only were there for about forty five minutes, but we danced to a few songs. I got one slow dance with Norah while Geoff danced with Daphne. I was a perfect gentleman, but that was really hard to pull off. I so wanted to pick her up and carry her to my room to have my way with her.

When we got back to our room if Daphne didn't want to get fucked again she should have stayed out of bed. I was charged up from my overly polite slow dance with Norah and although Daphne tried to put me off -- complaining that she was still sore from earlier -- I deftly maneuvered my mouth on her clit. Once I started sucking it she was putty in my hands, and I ultimately made my third sperm deposit of the day in her willing pussy. Given that I could imagine it was Norah during each of the three fucks, they were the most intense three-in-a-row orgasms of my life up until that time!