"Are you hungry? Of course you are. If I ask and answer that does not count as one of my questions, does it?"
"No, it doesn't, she said, but the question when you asked me if it counted, does. My turn. And yes, I am hungry, feed me."
The restaurant was quaint and not busy at all. They had some clam chowder, always seems like something you should at the coast even if the clams probably came from a can. It was good and the bread was better. Neither Jack nor Cynthia drank liquor so with clear heads they left.
"Let's walk on the beach, Cynthia said, it's cold, dark and wet, a little rainy and we will get soaked. That's what I want to do."
"Let's go, a little pneumonia never killed anyone. Wait, I need to rethink that."
The sand was hard from the rain, it was dark and the only light was a large spot light that shone over the sand where the steps were that led back to the inn. Knowing where they were going made it feel less threading. It was early November and the thundering season was over. The wind was strong and blew the rain making it worse than it really was. They went close to the water, the tide was coming in and a couple of times, Jack took Cynthia's hand to help her, or at least it seemed like that.
Through drenched after an half an hour, they headed to the steps leading to the inn. It was good to get inside. Phyllis was at the front desk.
"Gracious, you two are soaked. Mrs. Roland, did you and you son have a good time," she asked looking directly at Cynthia with a disapproving glare.
"Wonderful," Cynthia replied, "you double bitch," she said under her breath.
"As they were walking up the stairs, Jack quietly, said, "Just what is a 'double bitch,' Mother?"
"You are always asking questions out of turn, son!"
The got to the room looking like the proverbial wet rats. It was about eight o'clock.
The fire had kept the room very warm and cozy. Cynthia said, "I need a shower to get warm and then I am changing into my pj's. You want to go first?"
"No, you go first and that, my dear lady, was your question, my turn."
"Humph! I'll try and hurry," she said, starting to take off her wet clothes on the way the bathroom. She grabbed her pajamas on the way. Jack was standing in from of the fireplace, getting warm and gloating over the fact he thought he won that round."
The warm water felt good as it cascaded down Cynthia's body. It felt good to get cold and even better warming up. She stood naked, once again, in front of the mirror as she blew dried her hair. "Not bad," she thought. Hair dried, she picked up her pajamas. She had grabbed the light blue satin ones. She stepped into the bottoms. They fit her exactly right, smooth across her mid section and the legs flared slightly at the bottom. The top was made for large bosomed women. It had darts that gave her more room in the bust area but them tapered in so her waist was evident. She buttoned all for buttons. Then undid the top one; she could see about two inches of cleavage as she was standing there. She liked to tightness across her chest and knew that if her nipple became hard, it would be evident. Maybe she thought she should have not warmed up quite so much.
Her clothes neatly hung up to dry; she went out to the room where Jack was still standing in front of the fireplace. He had a magazine in his hand.
"All yours," she said.
Jack did not take as long. He put on some red plaid flannel bottoms and a red thermal top. He adjusted himself and thought, cold weather was not his friend. He too, neatly hung his clothes to dry. Two peas in a pod, he thought.
Cynthia took the chair to the right as she was seated. She did that on purpose. If Jack looked at her, she wanted him to see whatever he may be looking for. While she was in the shower, she unbuttoned and buttoned the third button at least five times, trying to decide. At the last moment, she became very conservative. Two is sufficient she thought to herself.
Jack came and sat in the chair next to her. The small lamp on the table in between the chairs emitted enough light to read by, but it did not fill the room. The view outside the windows was magnificent. The spotlight illuminated the beach and you could see the whitecaps as the stormy ocean continued to roll in.
They both sat there in the solitude, reading, Jack looking at Cynthia more often. Once in awhile she would be looking at him at the same time and they both smile just a little. It was about eleven when Jack stood up and walked to the French Doors. Cynthia just watched. He opened the door and the sound of the wind and the ocean became louder. The cold did not bother him. Jack thought about living in an area where there was never quiet. And yet, he knew more about sound than most people. He was still amazed by it all. Cynthia got up and went to the door and stood by him. The cold felt good against her. The satin of her pajamas pushed against her skin and she could feel her nipples becoming hard. She saw her reflection in the door window and knew that Jack would also be able to see them. She didn't care, in fact, she wished he would look. Jack looked to his left. Cynthia's reflection was in the window, he noticed how free she looked and when he gazed at the mirrored image of her breasts saw what Cynthia had hope he would see. Jack thought to himself how large they were. He felt a rise in his pajamas, and didn't care now, if Cynthia knew. They stood there a few minutes more and Jack said, "I think I am going to turn in."
"Me too, she said. Shall we leave the door open?"
"Why not? If it gets too cold, I can close it. That's the way the sleep in Switzerland, freezing outside, open the windows and let the comforters keep you warm."
