I'm Logan Langley -- yeah my parents were big on alliteration, especially if you add in my middle name of Laredo, which by the way I never use. My wife Vivian Marlowe (she kept her maiden name) and I have been married seven years at the start of this tale; yeah the time during a marriage that the ancient (1955), but always relevant Marylyn Monroe movie, proved was dangerous.
I need not go into detail about our pasts, but there are several things you need to know about Vivian and me to understand our story.
Vivian was a Division I tennis star, and won the NCAA singles championship her senior year and with her partner was runner-up in doubles. She definitely could have been a top pro but for an untimely injury. She is still good enough to be the top female player at almost any tennis club in the world.
In addition to being a good athlete Vivian is really smart. She graduated from Stanford with a 3.90 GPA. Since a year after graduation she has worked as a sports agent representing professional (and since NIL came into being) college athletes in contract negotiations. At 29 years old at the start of this story she has been a licensed sports agent for basketball, tennis, soccer, and volleyball for the past four years. She works in a small agency (only three other agents, all women) and makes big bucks because she is really good at her job.
Vivian's face is not beautiful. In fact it is close to ordinary. What is not ordinary are her body and personality. Her body is toned by constant physical activity using proven training techniques, and her personality is vivacious, giving her real sex appeal.
I was also a Division I college athlete (volleyball at UCLA) although I never even thought that I had the ability to join a pro team overseas. I got a Master's degree in dispute resolution from Pepperdine. Thirty years old at the start of this story I now work at a small mediation firm.
Like Vivian my face is nothing special although Vivian thinks that it has "character." Also like Vivian I have a hard body from regular intense workouts and if my colleagues and family members are to be believed I have a friendly and endearing personality. I don't make as much money as Vivian but I do very well, and collectively Vivian and I have no monetary problems. There is one unusual aspect of my job that is important, however; we have what is euphemistically called an "eat what you shoot" policy at my firm meaning that my earnings are primarily (though not exclusively) determined by what business I personally bring in.
Since Vivian and I are both expert negotiators it should be no surprise that we negotiate everything in our marriage. We never say the dreaded words "We have to talk" when dealing with each other. Instead if something important comes up we say "We should have a negotiation session."
*************
My relationship with Vivian is -- in one word -- great. We are completely simpatico sexually, we both like hard bodies, we are playful as well as erotic and romantic, and we rarely argue. When we do argue (as opposed to negotiate) we do so fairly. There was only one night that I can remember during our seven year marriage when we went to bed angry, and fortunately we were able to resolve the argument satisfactorily the next day. While both of us do travel for our work we always remain in close contact when we are away from each other, and we try to do as many things together as possible when we are in the same city at the same time.
The only time we went to bed angry -- Vivian because of what she surmised from my interaction with another woman and me because of what I considered Vivian's uncalled for reaction -- resulted from attention paid to me by another woman. Her name is Francine Bardot.
Perhaps the most famous femme fatale in history is Mata Hari, the beautiful Dutch exotic dancer -- and spy -- whose seduction techniques and exploits on behalf of the Germans in WWII are legendary. There is no one who knows Francine that would not consider her a world class femme fatale, maybe even the best. It appears that at least the majority of women whose husbands have come into contact with Francine would like her to suffer the same fate as Mata Hari -- namely execution by a French firing squad.
Being as objective as possible I don't think that Francine is ravishing beautiful. However, her combination of a voluptuous body, coquettish manner, exotic face, and some inexplicable X-factor, make her almost irresistibly desirable to any heterosexual male; I guess that's the definition of a "femme fatale."
Unfortunately, Francine is also smart and rich and as one of her many activities owns the largest mediation firm in the United States so I do occasionally have contact with her.
***********
Vivian arrived at the San Jose International Airport from a three day negotiation for a number of professional soccer players on the East Coast about 4 p. m. on a Friday. I was happy to pick her up and get a passionate kiss and hug as she exited the security area.
As we drove home we talked in more detail than we had over the phone the previous three days about what was happening in our lives. When we got home we took a shower together -- I only got my hand slapped about ten times -- and then lay naked on our bed as I gave Vivian a half hour long massage, mostly on her back, shoulders, ass, and thighs. She had had a stressful three days on her trip, and slightly pulled a muscle working out. Sometimes I think that the main reason she married me was because I am the best amateur deep tissue massage therapist in the world (at least in my mind, but supported by Vivian's opinion).
Once I had reduced Vivian to a purring inert blob of relaxed protoplasm using my best massage techniques, and while she was in the concubine position, I licked and fingered her pussy until her purring reached a crescendo, and then ran my iron bar-like cock up her channel. I reciprocated slowly, deliberately, and intensely -- the sexual equivalent of deep tissue massage -- until I felt her pc muscles clamp down on my cock and her purrs turned into whines. Then I injected what seemed like a liter of cum into her as she clawed the comforter on our bed and screamed into a pillow while I grunted like a caveman.
It took a good twenty minutes after our contemporaneous climaxes before Vivian and I were completely lucid. We smiled at each other as we cuddled, exchanged kisses and "I love yous" and then finally got our asses up and dressed to go out to eat.
Just before going to sleep that night I told Vivian "We should have a negotiation tomorrow morning."
"Sure," she cackled, "as long as you make another sperm deposit tonight."
We didn't disappoint each other as she rode me cowgirl like she was trying to break in a bucking bronco while I mauled her ta-tas with zeal until we had synchronous earth-shattering climaxes, followed by us quickly falling asleep in each other's arms.
The next morning we each drank a small protein shake and then worked out together for an hour in our fully equipped workout room. We showered together without hanky-panky then sat down to a legitimate breakfast that we both prepared. After breakfast Vivian asked "OK, Logan, what do we need to negotiate?"
"Before we start let me ask if you still have that business trip to Texas planned for the 23rd -- 27th of this month?"
"Yes, I do; why what's the issue?"
"There's a virtually mandatory conference at the fanciest resort in Laguna Beach during that same time and I was hoping that you could come with me," I said in a deadpan manner.