Ned lay comfortably in his poolside lounge on the general public side of the resort. He had wandered over to the larger but more mundane part of the expansive facility. He liked to mingle with the pedestrian crowd occasionally to test his mental stability. It was risky to dwell too much in a world of effortless sexual fulfillment. Most men had to work hard to get laid and he needed to be conscious of that condition.
The guests here were families, couples, and others unaware of, nor could they imagine, the secluded exclusive area on the other side of the boundary that accommodated solitary alpha males escaping, even so temporarily, the rigors of their elite business stresses.
His head was slightly propped and, from behind his sunglasses, his eyes scanned the many ordinary resort guests taking a break here on the tropical island, far away from the busy world. They may be escaping their own business, or foul weather, or just the daily strains of modern life.
But the guests gathered at the public pool were still an eclectic bunch. There were several middle-aged men accompanied by their 'nieces', all of whom were young, well-built specimens of feminine eye-candy. The well-built characteristic was very obvious from the skimpy thong bikinis each wore, seemingly to compete with their man-bait contenders.
Others were obviously married couples, enjoying a week away. Pale skins and chubby were the common theme. And one pair of women was a mother-daughter troupe, the elder of whom Ned had chanced upon the day before and struck up a conversation.
It seemed she had taken her college-aged offspring on this holiday to illuminate by example the difference between her lazy college chum rebels vis-a-vis affluent partners that high-class society could make available to a girl who really cared about her future standard of living.
Ned focused his gaze on the young lady. She was less than attentive to her looks by the lack of cosmetics, unruly hairstyle, and billowy workman's shirt and cutoff jeans. But he could see beneath the dowdy duds her potential in form and vitality and he envisioned helping the mother make her point in a very potent way.
This evening was the weekly formal dinner, a chance for a select few to shine in their best elegance. He had taken the mother aside earlier and proposed that he escort her and her daughter to the invitation-only soiree. Mrs Connors was eager for her daughter to make the most of this opportunity to engage with such a fine gentleman, just the sort she wanted her daughter to meet.
But instead of Ned coming for her, she offered to get her daughter ready and present her at dinner to the fine gentleman that had taken such a gallant interest in her daughter's enlightenment.
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Clarissa Connors was pissed and her angry scowl showed it. She stood before the closed dining room double doors as the security dudes in tuxedos checked her mother's invitation. Satisfied of its authenticity, they opened the grand entrance to allow the finely dressed ladies access to the exclusive soiree.
Clarissa felt her mother's hand push against her bare back and she stepped forward, then stopped, stunned at the visage inside. A knot of anxiety hit the pit of her stomach.
There were dozens of couples gathered in small groups, conversing and laughing in gay jubilee. Now Clarissa was less miffed at her mother, grudgingly thankful for her parent's excessive mothering today.
It had been a running feud since early afternoon. First the news of the exclusive invitation. Then shopping at the resort boutique for the elegant, almost scandalous, dress and stiletto heels she was now wearing. A trip to the salon for hair and makeup. Mother really enjoyed these shopping bonanzas, splurging opulently with her ex-husband's court-ordered bountiful alimony. She even found the perfect set of jewelry to really make her point with Mr Jackson. The shop clerk knew the secret of its workings and wrapped Clarissa's neck and wrists with the expensive contraptions.
Back in the room, more arguments about the over-attention to the most minor details. But one detail the young woman truly resented and still did.
Clarissa had endured a lifetime of emergent tension. As a youngster, she had willingly, even eagerly, followed her mother's plans for her: Girl Scouts, Little Miss beauty pageants, sports, and academics. Then, teenage rebellion reared its ugly head. Late nights, lowbrow friends, a non-STEM college matriculation. Her mother became increasingly distressed as she watched her precocious youngster's prospects steadily disintegrate.
Now, pseudo kidnapped by her mother to this resort and now this evening event, Clarissa lifted her head, set her jaw, and steeled her nerves. She was entering the lair of those she had been told to loathe.
She and her friends spent hours at their liberal arts college campus disparaging the elite shallow fashionistas who venerated greed, profits, wealth, and affluence. Those callous cretins looked down on the less fortunate ones, like she and her campus friends, and didn't understand the social ills that the wealthy elite caused in the world: inequality, inequity, and, above all, social status based only on their marketable skills and accumulated money.
Thank goodness for social warriors like themselves who raged against the machine and sat around complaining, without any perceivably effective corrective actions to make the critical revolutionary changes.
But now, the social graces developed during her growing years, the competitive sports, the public service activities, and the graceful beauty competitions, kicked in and she was sure she could survive this evening's gauntlet. It would be unseemly to make a scene without her vociferous if ineffective friends here to provide cover and backup.
She stepped forward into the scattered crowd which silenced at the sight of her presentation. She was careful with her balance in the fashionable stilettos; the beauty pageant high-heeled strides had been long ago and she hadn't practiced much since then. She made her way through the clustered people. They nodded polite hellos and she returned the salutations in kind.
Ned was seated at his dinner table, sipping on a cocktail, nursing the alcohol, safeguarding the verve he would need during his date's later enlightenment. There was a low buzz of background conversations which he barely noticed. But he became aware of the change when the noise faded away.
His attention was perked as all eyes looked in one direction across the room. He looked that way and spied the mother walking towards him across the room. What he also noticed, as had every other man in the room, was the exquisite lady striding beside her.
Ned hardly recognized the now dazzling daughter. Gone were the loose unkempt hair, the unadorned face, and the body hiding frumpy clothes. In their stead was a sexy red sequined gown, her fine leg flashing through the waist-high slit with each step. The long skirt hung from the torso tucking band clinched tight across her middle: a wide smooth expanse of satin from hip bone to just beneath her bodice. The strapless bandeau style top stretched tight across the lower two-thirds of her globes of tit flesh, boosting the mammary mound pair into a high billowy cleavage.
The leg flashes had drawn Ned's eyes first to the fine-figured body of the sexy young coed. As his vision moved higher, he saw the slim neck circled by a braided gold chain choker, mounting an ivory and onyx medallion at her throat. Aside that were dangling gold earrings, swaying and skittering the reflected ballroom lights.
Her lips were painted fire engine red, glossy with layered thickness. Her high cheekbones, sporting a rosy blush, underlying the dark mascara-tinted eyelashes and eyebrows arching above blue-green eyes.
Her hair was no longer unkempt and fly-away. The dark tresses were pulled back to a scalp-molding skull cap, captured behind in a golden clinch that anchored the ponytail hanging low on her back in a rendition of a runway model or ballerina.
Gentlemanly Ned rose slowly to his feet to greet his evening's arranged date. He had to; his cock was swelling and needed adjustment in its awkward confining space in his pants fly. A quick flick at his tuxedo crotch loosened the fabrics enough to gain a bit of space. If his arousal continued, he would need more space, much more space, before this public gathering ended and he could find privacy for continued admiration of his matron-furnished companion.
