Pamela and I wore large floppy hats, strappy sandals and the skintight bikini bottoms we'd purchased that morning, as we placed ourselves on display by the poolside, working our way to golden-brown skin tones. The Mojitos kept coming as we surveyed the crowd, from our cabana hut.
"Look at the girl over there, she's completely nude," I said, pointing to a young woman about to dive into the water. "Would you do that?"
"Only if I were going into the water. I think my suit would start to rust, otherwise," Pamela joked. "On the upside, look at those two men getting naked, too." She pointed toward them, as they were about to enter the water. "Which one do you want?"
"Neither. They look like they're nineteen. I like men a bit older. Not as old as James, but at least intellectually developed."
"They're as developed as I need. More for me. See, ya, babe." She removed her hat and unzipped the back of the sandals. Before I knew it, her bottom rested on the chaise lounge beside mine, and she began to frolic in the water with her two youthful targets.
Pamela was thirty five, with exquisitely colored blond hair that reached half-way down her back and a rack that purportedly set her husband back fifty thousand dollars, but the workmanship was a thing to behold. The only thing that could give them away as fakes, were their enormous size. I could see she was already starting her flirtations. I doubted I'd see her until the next morning.
With the rest of the afternoon and evening on my own, I eyed the area for interesting playmates. It didn't take long, before one found me.
He seated himself on the chase and tossed the bikini onto the table. He looked at me with an unabashed confidence and said, "I've been waiting for your companion to leave me an opening to meet you. I'm Lyle."
He was in tight Speedo trunks that could have told me if he was circumcised. His chiseled ABS and sculpted face coupled with his hazel eyes, and curly brown hair made me think he might be a male model or actor. "I'm Lauren. I'm not sure when my friend will be back."
"From the looks of the way she's hitting on those dudes in the pool, I'd say sometime next week." He went on about himself with ease I hadn't seen in a man his age. He was only twenty four, but ran a major part of his father's investment business. Lyle was two years younger than me, but had the self-assurance of someone twice his age.
I noticed the other topless bimbos strolling by as we chatted for hours, trying to attract his attention. I decided I'd withhold him for myself. He'd already figured out I was married, but I'd turned that little negative in my favor. "I'm actually quite shy. I'm afraid I'm a bit of an innocent," I said as I gave him a nice view of my bare breasts.
"I can see that you must be."
"I was actually a virgin bride, and my husband is so old and busy running all those companies of his, let's just say, I have very low mileage." At that moment, I knew he was circumcised.
"This is my main office," he said, pointing out toward the pool compound. "I conduct most of my meetings on the phone. Why suffer in cubical-land, when the scenery is so great here?" He was eyeing me, and I was seriously debating whether to continue to tease or to please.
We made plans to hit the nightclub at the top of the hotel, and I headed back to my room to get ready. My mind was on him as I entered the hallway toward the elevator, when a uniformed hotel assistant stood in my way and said, "I'm sorry, Miss. You'll have to cover up before entering the main hotel."
Distracted by my forthcoming decision concerning Lyle, I'd forgotten to wear a robe. Rather than return to the poolside concierge, I simply flashed my room card and its color code took care of that slight annoyance. I strode into the elevator still topless, while a few men looked on.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, please enjoy your stay."
By 9 PM, I was nearly ready. I'd purchased a shimmering one piece sequenced dress in bright green. I'd stand out on the floor in that, even in a ballroom filled with showboating bitches.
I dialed Pamela once more and this time she picked up. Her first words, "Are you going to fuck him? I saw him down there nibbling on you."
"I haven't decided yet."
"It's not as if he'd be your first."
She knew all about my brief fling a couple of years before. That was different; a revenge fuck. James had been all over me about my credit usage. And taking on a workman, seemed an appropriate retaliation. I never told James, of course, but just knowing he was no longer an exclusive user of my wares seemed especially delicious at that point in time.
"I'll have to see for things go."
"Well, if you decide against it, send him my way, I'm already wearing these two studs out."
Lyle and I hit the dance floor by 11 and the night went into overdrive. By the time the effects of the Ecstasy wore down, we'd been dancing for hours. His hands were all over me, and I'd mapped every muscular bulge on his body by then.
We sat at a private table and enjoying a few bottles of whatever was the best the SkyView Lounge had to offer. The view of the strip was overwhelming from the panoramic window that presented a 270 degree view, and the rising sun was beginning to fill the room with its rays. And then Ashley Meyers showed up.
"Lyle, is that you?" she beamed. I hated the little twat. Her father owned half of downtown Charlestown, the good half, and with her Southern accent, silky blond hair and sluttish sense of style, Lyle could easily be lost to me.
"Are you here with your mother?" She looked directly at me. She was nineteen, single and a complete tramp. She laughed with self-delight, and her eyes twinkled. "JK, Lauren. I'm glad to see you've been keeping Lyle company. I hope you've had a nice time." She grabbed his hand to pull him toward her.
"We're still busy, Ashley." I informed her.
"I think Lyle's all danced out. He might like some more interesting activates." Lyle, being the male bastard that most of them are, sat back and enjoyed our little catfight.
"I was planning on fucking him. How about you? Perhaps, a Bible reading?"
No, that little fucktard wasn't about to have him. I was going into full on "please him" mode. I called our waiter over and asked if a private drinking lounge was available. A few hundred dollars and we had an exclusive getaway.
"I'm going to fuck him there. Care to watch?"
I expected her to scurry off with her sleazy little tail tucked between her tartish legs, but she replied in a mocking tone, "I can't think of anything I'd like better."
Before I knew it the three of us were seated in a closed-off area, as the music reverberated outside. I pulled Lyle's pants down and saw he hadn't bothered with underwear. He was hard and big. I reached under my short dress and removed my panties. "Don't you have a prom to attend of something? The adults are busy here."
"No, you old bitch, I want to see how far you'll go."
With that, I straddled Lyle and felt his prick enter me. I yelled, "Fuck yeah. Get that thing going." The music may not have been loud enough to cover up my shrieks, but it wasn't as if this kind of action hadn't been going on all night.
I moved my ass up and down, riding his pole. His eyes were closed as he enjoyed me doing all the work. My eyes were wide open, staring at Ashley as I humped the young stud below me. He came quickly, and I shouted out my pleasure. More importantly, I'd won. Ashly said something about finding better things to do and left.
I called, "Do drop by again, Honeychild," in a mocking Sothern accent just before the door closed.
I did Lyle for the rest of the week. The sex was great. He wasn't so much. His world consisted of one big endless party, and his initial bravado faded into a self-centered bore. The affair of clandestine flights lasted a month, three weeks longer than it should have, but it was all for show from the start.
As I readied to head home, loading things into my suitcase, I decided the bikini bottoms wouldn't fit inside. In truth, they wouldn't fit my life back home. I tossed them into the trash can on the way out of my suite.
As I looked out of the window on the minibus on the ride back to the Reclamation Ranch, it occurred to me that the women working at the laundry plant would have needed to work six weeks to earn what I'd dropped into the garbage that day without a thought.
Those women, sweating away as they cleaned the very sheets I'd slept in two years before, were worth more than me. They served a purpose and worked under harsh conditions to do it. Even a brothel prostitute was more valuable to society. I'd spent the last nine years serving no one by myself.
That was not the intended lesson of the Ranch. Their focus was to break my will and transform me into a dutiful little slut, intent on pleasing my whore loving husband. I needed to do something more with my life.
I'd call Pamela before I was sent to the Double R. She was sympathetic to my plight, but like the rest of my former closest friends, valued status over loyalty. Again, I needed to do something more with my life.
For the rest of the week, I played their games. I broke a few rules here and there and was whipped for my transgressions, but like the fading number on my ass and moniker across my chest, it was all for show, too.
