By: EnigmasSmile; The Gentleman Husband
1
Martin sat in a white wicker seat at a cafe table overlooking a beach on the Pampelonne, a soft breeze fluttering the canopy overhead. LaVoile Rouge to be exact, sipping a fruity something for which he had to pay a double price to taste the alcohol. It was pleasant enough. He wasn't much of a hang-at-a-crowded-beach fan, more like find-someplace-remote-and-quiet kind of guy.
But everyone said if you visit St Tropez you had to spend at least one day at the beach, here in particular, to get the feel of what St Tropez had been and what it still clung to as the haven for the beautiful people, the famous, and the jet set. While beautiful enough it wasn't just the beach, it was what there was to see at the beach. Here topless still hung on as being chic for those that chose it and it definitely was where the beautiful people played. But if anyone asked him, there also was a certain percentage of the tourist class that really ought to cover up. What would possess a fat guy to think there was anything appealing about him wearing a speedo? But as the man had worn it, if he was willing to pay the price for the seat or the lounge he imagined he had the right to wear what he liked.
Then... there were the gorgeous women. He was amazed to see so many who freely allowed anyone to admire ALL of the beauty God afforded them. He certainly wasn't complaining about that. It just struck him in a strange way as... pedestrian. While he could find it stirring he found he was more intrigued with the women who wore the minimalist suits that still made him imagine the rest.
'Oh, yes... here we go...' he thought to himself as he spotted a lovely slender woman in a high-waisted, Brazilian-cut, bright blue bikini.
She had long, dark hair pulled into a saucy ponytail and her tan skin glistened like she'd been oiled. He watched her steadily as she sauntered up from the beach towards the canvas-tented bar. Her dark sunglasses gave her an aloof sexiness he found magnetic. Something stirred inside him, something old and oddly familiar, like a distant, cherished pain. There was something about her that he couldn't put his finger on.
'What gorgeous legs! Oh, and wouldn't you love to bounce a quarter off that ass... gotta love the body of a dancer!' He didn't have a clue if it was true but he liked the idea. He watched her lean over the bar as if she knew his thoughts presenting her delectable behind for his admiration. The sweet thing about it there was nothing pretentious about it. He bet she had no idea how hot that looked as she tried to flag down the bartender. He watched her intently, thankful for his mirrored shades that allowed him to savor the sight with his head turned a bit more towards the shore as if watching the yachts that floated in an anchored parade on the blue water.
She took off the glasses and Martin's heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be! Sarah? But then it hit him like a ton of bricks and it all came flooding back. Oh, no. He could never forget that lovely face or that sweet, tight body, that hair, the eyes, the lips. It was her. Composing himself, he took off his own glasses and stealthily walked up behind her, reaching out for the bar behind and taking her under his arm. Her head spun in alarmed shock at the forward gesture, ready to cry out in offence but then she froze in recognition. Her expression was one of being as bewildered as he had been. In an instant he saw all the emotions that had torn though him tear through her.
It was the same magnetic attraction they had both felt when she'd been studying in London; the intoxicating infatuation, the sexual compulsion that threatened to overtake them both. He'd been her professor and 15 years her senior. Position, age, all said it couldn't be but they both knew back then what they wanted to happen... what came so close to happening... but didn't. How many times had Martin relived that night at the Milestone Hotel in London. It was going to happen there. She was ready, the romantic evening was so perfect, the dinner, the wine, the laughter, the room... her smooth skin so soft under his hands... but he'd pulled back. He couldn't do that to her because it couldn't last. But oh, how he regretted letting her go and never having tasted that fruit. It was the right thing to do but such a regret! In that instant her eyes locked with his, his heart leaped a little because he could see her reliving the same memories. They hugged quickly, a bit stiff, neither knowing quite where to start.
"I won't ask what you are doing here. Vacation of course." Martin started
"Yes, with my husband." She answered, nervously flashing her ring.
"You're married! That is great!" his heart sank. "Of course you would be. Who else could be so crazy as to let you go?"
"And you?"
"No, no. Couple of close calls. I have had several close amours who certainly were ready to marry but I couldn't quite take the leap. And then, unfortunately, my plight is being around too many women too young for me and it's only getting worse over time. It becomes ever easier to hold off attachments as that disparity grows."
"But look at you! You are as handsome as ever. I like the greying..." her fingers brushed through the hair at his temples, the gesture instantly familiar and intoxicating. "And still keeping yourself in shape. You look great!"
"And you my dear are stunning... as beautiful as all my dreams and now, how am I going to ever get this vision out of my head. Forgive me but in my mind you might as well be standing there glistening like that naked for how I will remember this. You're exquisite!" Sarah smiled flattered and it looked beautiful on her.
"Where is your husband? I need to offer my apologies for all that I am thinking about his wife." Martin said mockingly looking out over the beach. Sarah laughed. It was a beautiful sound "No, no. Not necessary... and he might actually approve" she said with a lift of her eyebrow and a tilt of her head. Martin laughed appreciating her husband's attraction to the same things he was and having no clue of the insinuation she'd floated by.
"So how about you what brings you to St Tropez? Somehow this doesn't seem quite like you."
"I was up at a conference up north of here but figured I had to see what everyone was talking about of the beaches. I am SOOO glad I came. What beauty I would have missed. I took a room in the town proper for the weekend to see the port, the old village, and savor the food. I wouldn't want to get in the way of your romantic getaway but if there was any way you could steal away for a cup of coffee or something I would love to hear how your life has gone. Might I be so bold as to ask you and your husband out for dinner at least?"
"I'm not sure. I will talk to him and let you know."
"Well, seeing you is now the highlight of my week. Seeing you..." and he swept his hands demonstratively "... certainly a highlight to last me quite a while."
"Always such a charmer. Martin,.." she placed her hand on his chest watching it distant memories written in the gaze. "Is your heart still beautiful?" It was an old question begging the response they both knew.
"As beautiful as the beauty it can contain and ever fuller in the light of your countenance."
"I used to love the way you said that to me."
"It is still the truth." He smiled back. The moment hung both of them feeling the natural urge to kiss... the years between saying they couldn't.
"It was wonderful to see you too." She said breaking the spell. Her eyes connected with his and they both shared the fleeting flame. She didn't feel like going. He didn't want her to, but echoing again as it had those years ago it was right for her to. She kissed his cheek and headed back to the beach with her drinks. He watched her go admiringly feeling an old familiar pain and decided he didn't want to spot the husband. He wanted to keep this memory intact.
2
Sarah looked back through the fluttering red and white umbrellas towards the bar but Martin was gone. She stopped and leaned back against the stucco of the outdoor shower, her face tilting upward and her heart pounding... aching like she felt so many years ago.
'Oh, my god! I'm wet!' she thought, 'Get yourself together girl... breathe... where did that come from? I haven't thought about him for years... god, those eyes still do it to me... it feels like he's undressing my soul ... He undresses me with his eyes and I want him to. I wanted to jump him 15 years ago... I wanted to jump him right there... what is wrong with me? I love Andrew... how could I still want to fuck Martin's brains out?' she was trembling. 'Get it together! You knew in your heart he was right to cut it off back then as much as it hurt... how much more now? You're married!'
She stood there a few moments and let herself settle down, and fighting the flood of memories. Finally she walked back down to where Andrew waited.
"Where have you been?" he asked. Sarah handed him his drink and leaned over to kiss him.
"I'm sorry, the bar was crowded and the service slow. I'm just glad to be back with you" It wasn't that she wanted to lie; she just didn't know how to describe the truth. Not yet... and then... she pretty much knew how Andrew would react. She couldn't let him run with it, not yet. She looked over at him as he sipped his drink. It wasn't that she was afraid of his reaction. She was afraid of her own. She was confused, nervous, anxious. She loved her husband, she could only love him. He was her everything, her joy, her security, the warm safe place she never wanted to leave... the man who lit her fire... and now this other emotion stirred like flames licking at the edges of tinder... licking at the edges of Andrew's fantasy.
Sarah struggled with her conflicted emotions, watching her husband who was oblivious to what she was feeling. She felt it... this fire was going to catch if she let it but would Andrew be captivated and enthralled or consumed by it?
Sarah closed her eyes and let the sun bathe her in its warmth listening to the soft lap of the waves and the muddled conversations around her.
'Relax let it settle, don't think about it... you don't have to see him... shit! That wasn't true. The compulsion had returned, maddeningly, as if she were 15 years younger. She knew she would see him and she had to figure whether and how to bring her husband into this... no, not whether... only how...
3
Andrew sipped his drink, resting his head back and savoring the delicious cold and the subtle burn of the alcohol. Sarah knew exactly what he liked. What a great day this was and he let his mind drift back to the perfect beginning; the lazy morning in bed picking up where he and Sarah had left off the night before. The love making all of that; making... love... leisurely, filled with a mutual affection and building like swelling wave... starting with Andrew on his side and Sarah on her back her leg thrown over him and the other spread wide as he slowly thrust savoring the warm wetness of her vagina clutching him... caressing him... tenderly he'd caressed her breast watching her nipple delightfully respond to his touch drawing up, tiny, dense, and erect. Gently he tugged on the stiff point and she let out a soft gasp inflaming him with the beauty of it. His mouth found it and she moaned as he battered the stiff point with his tongue her chest thrust upward in welcome as her hips rotated, slowly impaling herself upon him... Then he'd whispered it again as he watched her face, her eyes closed as she drifted in the beauty of what he was doing to her...
