continued from Part 1
...Anyway, a few years later we were on our honeymoon in the islands, and we were out on a deck, taking in the sun and the sea air. Of course it was topless and I was a little nervous, but when in Rome...
My new husband (it felt amazing to say that!) was getting us drinks. So it was in this relaxed and exposed condition that I felt a strong, masculine hand gently touch my shoulder. "Hey, Christey. Love the shades. Is your agent around?"
I knew who it was the moment I felt the hand: a topless girl will attract a lot of attention, but I didn't know anyone else who had the balls to just walk up to one and touch her. So it had to be Jack. Out here? What were the odds one of his coworkers would show up on the island? At this secluded deck near our cabana?
I had met Jack at the various office parties. I was not at all attracted to Jack, but I couldn't deny Jack was a complete stud. I probably shouldn't say that out loud, but that's what he was. Standing in front of me bare chested, abs chiseled, muscles defined from MMA training. And it was impossible not to notice the freely flopping beer can filling his otherwise baggy shorts, right at my eye level, while I lounged before him wearing nothing but a pink thong and a wedding ring.
Jack had a complicated reputation. Like my husband, he was a young superstar who climbed quickly to partner; but unlike him, on the way up he had left behind him a trail of sexual devastation. Receptionists, coworkers, the wives of coworkers-- if he wanted he unfailingly bed them. He was an arrogant bully who treated men like shit and women like sluts, but no man would stand up to him and no woman seemed to want to. Worse, he was a hugely important part of the company. Even though many of the men were resentful of him, there was a collective sense that he deserved his success, not to mention "all that pussy" (of course, they didn't know that included their own wives.) I guess many of the women quietly thought the same.
His ego finally got him into trouble. He kept pushing the board to do a takeover of another firm, both out of a desire to cross the others, with whom he was at odds in other work issues, and also because of the veiled criticisms he made in his speech, but mostly because he wanted a promotion, hoping the takeover would make him a lot of money and earn for himself all the glory. His ego was already overinflated by being a quasi-celebrity to the lower employees who had only heard about him anecdotally, and this led him to overindulge his tastes beyond what his income would bear, in cars and in the rest of his expenses; and later on this had more than a little to do with the bankruptcy of the company. Most of the senior managers were alarmed at his ambitiousness, and how much license he took with the job, his life and habits, and... the female employees, and the bulk of them saw him as wanting to make himself CEO and so became his enemies. And although in his public life his handling of the job was as good as anyone could have ever wanted, in his private life his behavior enraged everyone, and caused them to give promotions to others less able, to the ruin of the company. Eventually he went to work for their main competitor. I'm sure he did very well for himself.
Jack was not the kind of guy my husband would have been friends with, but he tacitly respected Jack's act-on-what-you-want attitude. I don't know about the boardroom, but as for the bedroom I had often tried to argue that Jack's success wasn't something to admire, it required him to be callous and unemphatic, oblivious to any resistance or hesitation from the woman. "You're not going to understand this," I said, "but sometimes a woman feels like she has to go along with it. If it gets to a certain point, she feels obligated to submit." I was right, he didn't understand this. He thought women could always do what they wanted, which in this case was what Jack wanted.
But respect wasn't the only thing that drove my husband to maintain friendly relations. He got a perverse enjoyment from being around Jack because of me. My husband knew that Jack saw me as just another of the many trophy wives that would fall into his bed-- except that, try as he might, I didn't. Sorry, bub, the only man I want I marrying. That rejection pleased my then fiance so much that he tolerated Jack's increasingly bold flirtations. If we were at a party and he saw me talking to Jack he wouldn't interfere at all, he wouldn't even glance in our direction; meanwhile Jack took full advantage of our time to ply me with flattery or provoke me with manipulative complements, all of which I parried by reminding him I had a fiance, and right over there, and that there were plenty of other women who would adore his attentions. Of course, Jack assumed he just needed to get me away from the "giant cock blocker over there...." (yes, I got it!)
God knows I never would have gone out with him even if I single, his cockiness and smug superiority totally turned me off. But if you knew how to handle him he could actually be quite fun to be around. He was undeniably attractive, and I admit I was flattered that the man who was known for bedding beautiful women wanted me. He was charming and funny, and despite his cockiness was never pushy with me or made me feel uncomfortable. I found I could let my guard down, even flirt a little (it's fun!) and he wouldn't overestimate it. So I played the part of the curious but honorable fiancee and just as playfully shut him down when it got too hot. Jack's ego never suffered, I'm sure. He was man enough not to take the rejection personally, even if I sometimes meant it personally. Meanwhile, each time Jack flirted with me, my husband saw it as another championship match for the trophy wife which he kept winning again and again. Undefeated-- against his single rival.
Perhaps because my husband never directly confronted him, Jack even began to tease my husband a little, letting him know that it was only a matter of time before he got me out of my clothes.
I rolled my eyes when I heard his fantastic predictions of my complicit nudity. And yet now he was standing above me, grinning broadly, while I was topless in a pink thong that served no other purpose than to prove I was naked. For years he had been eyeing my breasts, and now they were fully displayed for his enjoyment. What was I supposed to do? Wouldn't it have been weirder to cover up? Thank God I was wearing sunglasses, it made me look way more self-assured than I felt.
Beyond nervous, I stood up and did that thing where you overcompensate pretending to be excited to see a person in a new context. "Oh my God, Jack, how are you! When did you get here?" By reflex I greeted him with an awkward bent-over hug, careful to make sure our hips didn't touch, but the result was my naked tits swayed against his bare chest. Oops. His one hand slid to the small of my back, and then lingered at the edge of my thong. I quickly lay back in the chaise, but of course not putting on a shirt only made it look like an invitation, which he took. He perched himself on the edge.
"I had no idea you were here until the desk told me you were on your honeymoon. Congratulations, I'm sure you've made him a very happy man. Here, let me help you with that." He took a nearby bottle of sunscreen and began to rub it into my already glistening, well lotioned calves-- exactly as my husband came out to the deck. I froze. What should I do? I saw his eyes momentarily widen as he tried to process what he was seeing, but he otherwise didn't react and maintained a poker face as he continued walking casually towards us. So I nervously did nothing, and passively let Jack continue rubbing my legs.
"Hey, man, congratulations on your wedding," Jack said as he caressed under my knees. "Why don't you leave the drinks here and meet us for dinner later?"
I was so tense I couldn't help it-- a loud laugh escaped me, which he took as assent to sliding his hand further up my inner thighs. I sat upright and crossed my legs, ending his recklessness.
Nevertheless, Jack stayed put on my chaise. We all began chatting, awkwardly at first, my husband tried to seem cool but I knew he was tense, he had a pack of cards that he was fiddling with in his hands, hoping to seem nonchalant but also to break the tension. But it was Jack who made it all very light and smooth, and soon we fell into easy conversation, talking and drinking. He even asked to see a card trick! Truth is, Jack hadn't really done anything wrong, rubbing my calves was typical Jack, and its very brazenness proved it was meaningless. He was just fun to be around, easy going and friendly. Periodically of course he dropped flirty innuendos, commented on my spectacular "boob job" (as if he was fooled-- ha), and even managed to get me (after my eyes rolled) to let him rub lotion on my back as if it was the most normal thing in the world. And my husband seemed ok with everything, too, no secret signals, no signs of discomfort beyond the card twirling. They were both having a good time, and it was fun for me to be the center of attention.
So I relaxed. Topless. On a chaise lounge between my hunky husband and his studly rival.
Whew. He did give nice back rubs, though.
At some point Jack left to get us more drinks, and all at once my husband's cool demeanor completely imploded. It was so forceful and abrupt that I reflexively threw on a tank top and raised my sunglasses to my head.
"He'd kill to fuck you," he told me urgently.
"He's not going to," I said, sobering up quickly. "I have no desire to be with any other man, let alone him."
"I don't think he thinks that."
