Guilty as Sin

CHAPTER 1

ONE YEAR EARLIER NATURAL WONDERS/ FRIDAY MORNING

Pamela North pretended to be reading a paperback novel but it was just a ruse so that she could peer over the top of the book to check out guests as they arrived pool side. Always strategically placing herself in the best position to see the entire pool area, Pamela had come down to the pool before 9:00 AM in order to assure herself of this spot. Her husband Steven was still in the room brushing is teeth or doing some such thing. Pamela didn’t care if he took all day to come down or if he didn’t come down at all, so long as she had the opportunity to organize their nighttime plans.

They were both looking forward to this weekend—the long Memorial Day holiday and kickoff to the hot summer months ahead—expressly spending it at their favorite resort, Natural Wonders. Both Pamela and Steven frequented the resort several times a year to mingle with like minded people who enjoyed similar activities.

Keeping a furtive watch as guests came in, she noticed mostly couples, though three lone, older men had wandered in and quietly taken their places in the sun. Seven people were now wading in the pool while another thirteen casually lounged in their chaises reading or chatting with friends. She glanced at her watch: Eight thirty-five. Many guests were, no doubt, still eating breakfast, she thought, or getting in a tennis match before the real heat of the day set in. No problem, she told herself, there was absolutely no hurry. She had the whole day to meet new people and set her plan into motion.

Steven arrived in the next batch of five guests and, spotting Pamela, headed toward her. As he lay down on the lounge next to her he said softly, Any luck yet?

Not unless you’re interested in the older couple cavorting in the pool right now with what appears to be their grand kids, Pamela said chuckling.

Steven quickly applied a thin coat of sunscreen—more of an appeasement to Pamela than for any concern for the health of his skin—put on his sunglasses and lay face up in the already intense desert sun. Less than a minute later, he asked Pamela for something to read.

Pamela tossed the morning paper to him and he immediately grabbed the sports section. She continued her watch but soon tired as the selection was becoming more bleak. Bored, she turned over to lie on her stomach and asked Steven to rub some sunscreen on her back.

Getting no response, she asked him again and once more, got no response. Turning to face him, she noticed his attention was focused directly across the pool. Pamela reached out and lightly tapped his leg, but Steven still didn’t respond. Rather than ask him a third time, Pamela sat up and was about to get the lotion herself when she saw her husband brazenly gawking.

Steve, what in the world has got you so riveted that you can’t even answer— she stopped as she followed Steven’s gaze to an attractive young couple who’d just entered the pool area. Obviously newly arrived guests, they awkwardly sought out a couple of empty chaise lounges. Pamela peered over her shades, trying to get a better look at the two as they tentatively meandered through the crowd. After spotting two unoccupied lounges, the couple pulled them together and then moved them toward the angle of the sun. Hastily spreading out their towels, they slid delicately into their lounge chairs and then disappeared from the Norths’ view.

Predatory grins spread over the faces of both Pamela and Steven, but it was Pamela—the better hunter of the two—who got up first. She stood over her husband, partially blocking his sun, and then leaned over to whisper in his ear.

I think I’ll go for a little stroll over to the other side of the pool, she said as her right breast lightly brushed his arm. If I’m not back in ten minutes, come join me.

Smiling, Steven pinched her nipple and then let his head fall back on his lounge chair. He folded the newspaper, placing it neatly under his chair. Go do your thing, baby. Maybe we’ll all get lucky tonight.

A statuesque woman, Pamela stood 5-foot-10 in bare feet and although zaftig, no one would ever call her fat. In her younger days, however, she was rail thin, so thin, in fact, that her friends affectionately called her Olive Oyl. With shoulder-length light brown hair highlighted with blonde streaks, she was a striking vision by anyone’s standards, and her icy-blue eyes enhanced the package even more.

Having had three children, Pamela’s body wasn’t as tight as she’d like it to be, but for a woman of 44, it looked just fine, she thought. Although her belly protruded slightly—and no matter how many sit-ups she did, would never be flat—her legs were still shapely and her breasts were full. A little low on her chest and sagging, maybe, but wonderfully large. She’d consulted with a plastic surgeon about having them lifted, but when she found out how long the recovery time would be and how it would interfere with her social schedule, she decided let it go until the problem got really bad.

Besides, her breasts were the real deal and it gave her a unique character. Those younger girls with their fake, cylindrical tits, always annoyed her. Although most of the men she knew—and some of the women, as well—said the phony ones were fantastic to look at, they were so rigid and non-pliable. For Pamela, being true to oneself, both physically and spiritually, was more important than trying to be something one was not.

That didn’t mean she was averse to any type enhancement or embellishment. Quite the contrary. A little intensification of certain body parts through ornamentation was completely acceptable to her as it spiced up the atmosphere for everyone involved. Pamela was particularly fond of shaving herself so that all that remained of her ash brown mound was a tuft at the top—her distinctive signature lest someone mistake me in the dark, she used to joke with her friends. It gives a much better sensation for me and my partner, she would explain mat-ter-of-factly to those who asked. In addition, she always adorned her left labia with a dangling jewel, that, depending on the occasion, could be anywhere from one inch to more than three inches in length.

Most of the young chicks these days concentrated on bejeweling their pierced bellybuttons and that was okay, she thought, but so commonplace. Maybe 15 years ago it would have been remarkable, but not today. And Pamela always went for the exotic in everything she did. Some of the men she encountered thought her genital jewels unnecessary and even too flamboyant, but men were so much more basic in their needs anyway.

The ladies were another story. Women were fascinated by the charms she wore, wanting to touch them and pull on them, admiring them while they twirled them in their hands. Some even considered getting pierced themselves after seeing hers. Pamela would readily admit she loved the attention anytime and anywhere, almost as much as she loved sex itself. But, as much as she liked having a stiff fullness inside of her, she especially craved attention from the ladies.

Today, two sapphire stones—suspended from two gold chains, one slightly longer than the other—ornamented her labia. But they were hidden so discretely that no one would have guessed they were there. As she sauntered over to the unsuspecting couple, Pamela felt as if she were exuding a warm glow; a flush not ascribed to the heat of the sun, but rather from the anticipation of what might happen later on that day. She and Steven had been invited to a party that night, at a private location not far from the resort, but if things heated up enough here, she was willing to forgo that event. In any case, she felt certain there’d be some decent action tonight and maybe even tomorrow night, too. Action that was sure to to prove to her friends back in Los Angeles what a successful trip to the desert they’d had.

Pamela lifted the sunglasses off her face and pushed them high atop her head, taking with it any loose hair. She wanted to present herself full-faced to the new guests without projecting any ambiguity. They were obviously here for the first time and first impressions were of utmost importance. Standing erect by pulling her shoulders back, which made her breasts appear more shapely and firm, Pamela licked her lips and approached the pair from behind. When the woman’s prone body came slowly into view—feet, legs, crotch, midriff and then breasts—Pamela had to catch her breath to hide her excitement.

The woman was exquisite, far more beautiful than anyone she’d ever seen at this hotel. So young and supple, gracefully lean and beautifully tanned. Dark brown, wavy hair cascading around her shoulders. Pamela glanced at the woman’s partner—was it her husband or boyfriend?—and assessed instantly that he was a good enough looking guy. Nice legs, nice abs, muscular upper body. Whatever. He could have been Adonis himself and he wouldn’t hold Pamela’s interest for more than a fleeting moment.

Pamela abruptly stopped in her tracks and had to think quickly what tack to take. Should she strike up a conversation with the lady over something inane, or pretend to not know where the restroom was? Shit, why am I so nervous around

this gorgeous thing? It’s not like this is my first time, for goodness sakes. What’s gotten into me?

Clearing her throat nervously, Pamela was about to ask the woman if she knew what time it was when the woman suddenly turned around to stare at her. She must have sensed someone hovering nearby. God, how stupid to be caught gawking at someone, especially at a nudist resort.

Is anyone sitting here? Pamela asked, pointing to the empty lounge to the left of the woman. It was the only legitimate thing she could think of saying on the spur of the moment. She then smiled ineptly at the young woman, trying desperately to be nonchalant.

No, I don’t think so, the woman said, looking up at Pamela. Ironically, her face was directly in line with Pamela’s crotch, but she held her gaze on Pamela’s face, forcing her eyes to stay there. But I’ve only been here for a few minutes, so I can’t be sure.

Pamela thought the woman sneaked a peak at her tuft before settling back on the lounge chair, but she couldn’t be sure. But if she did, she hoped she liked what she saw and was interested in seeing more. In her not-so-humble opinion, Pamela was the most persistent person she knew, and today, more than ever, she was on a mission. Unless some natural disaster suddenly struck them all dead right now, she was determined to get to know this young thing, no matter how long it took.

Thanks, then, I think I’ll take it while I wait for my husband. Pamela slipped her glasses back on and then glanced around the pool in a feigned attempt to look for Steven. She dragged the lounge chair a few feet away from the woman so as not to be too bold and scare her off. Steven watched his wife’s every move from the other side of the pool, smiling and shaking his head in recognition of her superior predatory skills.

It’s gonna be a hot one today, I can tell, Pamela said, sliding her body onto the chaise, burning her backside on the plastic straps. She rather liked the burning sensation as it made her nipples stand erect. She hoped the woman would look over and be turned on by it.

Yeah, it sure feels like it, the woman said without looking at Pamela. Gosh, it’s not even 10 in the morning and it feels like it’s 95 degrees already.

Hope you have your sunscreen on, because this sun’ll burn the shit outta you if you’re not careful.

Sure do. I always wear it, especially at a place like this. I don’t usually go for the all-over tan, if you know what I mean.

Pamela deftly sneaked a peek at her and saw the distinctively lighter skin near her pubic area. Her breasts, by contrast, were darker, indicating to Pamela she went topless on occasion.

So, is this your first time at a nudist resort? Pamela turned away from the woman and thought, God, I hope so, because I love initiating novices. They’re so ripe and delicious.

Why, do I seem like a virgin? She laughed adding quickly, So to speak.

Oh, no, not at all, Pamela lied. I mean how would I know? I don’t even know you. It’s just that I read recently that nudism is fast becoming an acceptable lifestyle, uh, I mean form of recreation and lots of people are becoming interested in it. You know, for health reasons and things like that.

The woman flipped her body over and was now lying face down on the lounge. Propping herself up on one elbow, she peered over the top of her sunglasses and looked Pamela straight in the eye. The truth is, this is the first time I’ve been to a nudist resort. But my boyfriend here, she said, nodding to her left, he’s been here before. A few times. But that was before I knew him.

She glanced at her boyfriend and then moved her head closer to Pamela, who intuitively leaned in toward her. He’s somewhat of an exhibitionist, if you know what I mean, she said, nearly whispering. And he wanted me to experience the freedom of walking around naked, you know with other naked people, too. He thought it would be something I’d like.

Pamela, still leaning in close to the younger woman, whispered seductively, Well, do you like it? Is it what you thought it’d be like?

Well, at first it was kinda weird, being exposed to everyone, you know, but the more I walked around and saw all sorts of people also nude, the mystique was sort of lifted and it was suddenly normal. Does that make sense?

Yeah, it sure does. Pamela’s voice trailed off as her attention was now on the woman’s right breast. To Pamela, it resembled a budding, tropical flower. The rosy area around the nipple was already turning darker from the sun and, with her deep brown mane cascading down her back, Pamela thought she looked a lot like the native girl from French Polynesia in a painting she had at her home; beautiful, innocent, ripe. I think most people feel the same as you when they first try it, Pamela said, looking away from the woman, her voice rising to a normal level. But, the key is, like you said, it seems so normal after awhile. Pamela returned her gaze to the woman and then said, Myself, I love it. It is absolutely the most natural state for me to be in. Absolutely.

That’s what I’ve been telling you all along, Fabienne, it’s totally natural. Her boyfriend had propped himself up on one elbow and joined in the conversation.

I mean, look at her, she’s gorgeous. She shouldn’t hide that chassis under constricting clothing. I want the whole world see what a fox I have. He squeezed her left buttock.

Darryl stop, you’re embarrassing me. She hid her face in her hands.

Fabienne, what a beautiful name. Suits you perfectly. Are you French?

No, but my parents lived in France for a couple of years and, as my mom likes to tell the story, I guess I was conceived in Paris.

Wow, what a romantic start to what must be a wonderful life. Pamela sat up and looked directly at the boyfriend. You are absolutely right, Darryl. She is a gorgeous woman. You are a very lucky man.

Don’t you think I know that? And, I do love showing her off. It really turns me on.

Fabienne glared at Darryl, then turned over to sit upright on the lounge. My darling boyfriend, Darryl. I warned you he was an exhibitionist, and I think he’s trying to make me one as well. I’m Fabienne, she thrust a hand out toward Pamela.

And I’m Pamela, so nice to meet you both. She shook Fabienne’s hand for a long moment, squeezing it tenderly before extending out her hand again to Darryl, who had to get out of his chair to grasp it. Rather than looking at his manhood, Pamela instead took note of Darryl’s even tan; not a white line anywhere.

So, Pamela, you’re not here alone, are you? Darryl fell back on his lounge chair, resuming his tanning session, making sure his face got a full dose of sun.

No, as a matter of fact, like I was just telling your, uh, Fabienne, I am here with my husband. He’s supposed to meet me at the pool. He should be here any minute. Don’t know what’s keeping him so long. Pamela swung around to signal Steven, but he was already on his way, with both of their towels slung over his shoulder. Oh, speak of the devil, here he comes now.

Darryl didn’t budge a centimeter but Fabienne, turned to see a middle-aged man of medium build and dark brown hair approaching. He bent and planted a kiss on Pamela’s forehead, but anyone with half a brain could sense it was more for show than an expression of love.

Hi sweetie, Pamela cooed. Say hello to Darryl and Fabienne. Pamela purposely stressed the latter part of her name, letting the two Ns resonate in her nasal cavity. Fabienne and Darryl, this is my husband Steven.

Enchanted, Steven said, taking her hand and lightly kissing it. And please call me Steve. Hey, Darryl, he said louder, and then walked around to shake his hand. Pleasure to meet you. Over six feet tall, Steve had the gait of a cocksure salesman who knew what buttons to push for maximum effect. Like his wife, he, too had put on a few extra pounds with age, but for the most part, he had a decent build for a man of 45. He returned to his wife’s side and gingerly sat on the end of her chaise lounge. So, what brings you two to Natural Wonders? It couldn’t be the shopping, Fabienne. There’s absolutely nothing in the boutique. What am I saying? There is no boutique! He laughed heartily. Pamela chuckled, though she didn’t think his comment was very funny or appropriate.

Fabienne squirmed uncomfortably in her chair and, ignoring his unseemly remark, said, Actually, it was Darryl’s idea. Right honey?

Yeah, that’s right, hon. Darryl stroked Fabienne’s thigh, but his mind was elsewhere. Sure we do, Darryl said.

Huh? Confused, Fabienne looked at Darryl, but he was obviously not paying attention to the conversation. He had his face awkwardly angled upward an effort to gain full exposure of the sun to every millimeter of his face and neck.

That’s great you decided to take a chance and live a little on the wild side, Pamela said, waiting for a reaction from Fabienne, who was fidgeting in her chair. Feeling like she’d lose both her momentum and Fabienne’s interest unless she tread carefully, Pamela retained control of the conversation and modulated her tone to a more nurturing one. "Anyway, you’re going to have the best time here this weekend, I just know it. There are such cool people here, you know, folks without a lot of hang-ups and stuff. People who like to escape from all the stress of the big city, unwind and have fun.

Speaking of cool people, Pamela added enthusiastically, there’s gonna be an outrageous party tomorrow night, not far from here, that I think you’ll both find very pleasurable.

Now she sensed she had Fabienne’s attention because the younger woman turned to face her. Still, Fabienne looked flustered: Her forehead was creased and she’d lost her beautiful smile. Pamela reached out and stroked Fabienne’s arm. Fabienne flinched at first, and then relaxed as Pamela continued to apply light, gentle strokes.

Don’t be scared, sweetie, you’re gonna love it. I guarantee it, Pamela said softly. In fact, you can be my very special guest tonight. Pamela peered over her sunglasses and winked at Fabienne as she continued to stroke her arm. Discerning something very rapacious and perverse about this assertive woman, Fabienne quickly looked away.

CHAPTER 2

LOS ANGELES/FRIDAY MORNING

Tony Aragon pulled the covers over his head after sneaking a peak at the digital clock on his night stand. It was six twenty-five and the early morning sun completely saturated his bedroom like floodlights illuminating a stage. He wanted to catch another five minutes of sleep before the alarm went off and he had to get ready for work, but the infusion of light made that task difficult. He turned over and felt the warm, soft contours of his fiancée Colleen’s body and he instinctively reached out to draw her in to him.

He felt an instant craving for sex, but sadly, the stiffness growing between his legs was not attributable to the beautiful creature lying next to him but rather to a very masculine being by the name of Darryl Heath. Shamed by his obsessive thoughts of his coworker, Tony tried to suppress his feelings whenever they arose; usually to no avail. Even now, he opened his eyes to take in the beautiful female form of Colleen, and try as he might, he could not muster any motivation to have sex with her and release all that had built up inside him overnight.

He glanced at the clock again. Six twenty-seven. Damn. No time anyway, he rationalized. Time to get up and…what? Get dressed to impress Darryl? He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the image of Darryl from his mind, even as he held Colleen. Seconds later, the image returned and he succumbed. Why fight it? Maybe it was time to confront it and see where that led. During the day, Tony had been furtively flirting with Darryl when it was clear no one else was around, though he never came right out and admitted his infatuation to his coworker. That would be suicide. That would also be like owning up to the fact that he might be gay. And, he knew he definitely was not gay.

Then again, Darryl never rebuked his enticing, teasing ways, and even encouraged him in a guileful way. Darryl was such a stud and Tony prayed that the muscular Anglo was not fucking with his sensitive emotions but was actually attracted to him, too. And who had to know of his innocuous longing for Darryl if it was just kept between the two of them? It was nothing more, he told himself over and over again, than innocent curiosity that he was sure would never interfere with his real life. If anything, it could only add something wonderful to his existence.

He squeezed Colleen tighter, and imagined he was holding Darryl instead. Oh, the things the two of them could do, he thought as he rubbed himself against Colleen’s backside. The sky would be the limit, he was sure, and he wouldn’t have to wait for Darryl to be in the right mood like Colleen had to be, or wait for the right time of day or for the right place in which to do it like Colleen demanded of him. Darryl was a man, after all; obviously ready, willing and able any time of the day or night.

The alarm went off obnoxiously and Tony recoiled from the shock. Colleen moaned, still half asleep and Tony kissed her lightly on the cheek. He then slipped out of bed and went directly to the shower. With the water gushing out as hot and powerful as he could take it, he lathered himself up with soap and methodically and unabashedly pleasured himself until his fluids were completely mixed in with the suds. He then turned the dial to cold, rinsing himself clean, sending his erotic thoughts down the drain.

While Colleen stirred in bed, Tony stood naked in front of his walk-in closet considering what to wear to work. His job as a loan officer at a local branch of an international bank required him to dress ultra conservatively and he always looked stylish in his three-piece suits. He was by far the best-dressed person at the bank as well as the best-looking man. Even though all of his female coworkers knew he was engaged to be married later in the year, not one woman ever failed to flirt with the handsome Latin whenever she got the chance. Tony would playfully appease each and every one of them, letting them down easily but never offending them in the process. It was very important for him to maintain an air of professionalism as well as an image of macho coolness.

If he were the consummate player everyone thought he was, Tony would have at his disposal a never-ending line of willing women with whom to sleep. Indeed, any red-blooded American male would have envied his position and gladly traded places with him even for one day. But Tony wasn’t interested in cavorting with women or in female companionship. Besides, he already had a fiancée. Only one person captivated Tony’s attention and he was definitely a male.

Although he’d never acted upon his homosexual fantasies, he’d been aware for many years that he was attracted to both men and women. Hiding within the safe shelter of strict heterosexual monogamy lest his traditional Mexican family renounce him, Tony had, on occasion, superficially delved into his dark side to satisfy his curiosity.

Twice, he’d sneaked into a gay bar in another part of town, during Happy Hour, when he knew it would be crowded and he would be relatively safe. Sitting both times at a table by himself in a far corner of the bar, Tony surreptitiously observed the goings on, taking mental notes while simultaneously being turned on. He was completely in awe at the ease with which the customers openly expressed their sexuality, sensually rubbing each others’ asses while they made out on the dance floor. No one could ever get away with that kind of behavior in a straight club, he remembered thinking. Men, who are so often chastised by women for not being able to keep their sexual desires in check, could absolutely be true to their nature in a place like this where parading one’s hyper-sexuality is not only accepted, but admired and respected, too.

Still, Tony wasn’t ready to come out on either of those two occasions, doubting he’d ever be able to act upon his curiosities in the long run. But, he remained quite content to observe from the fringes. In a way, being in that environment somewhat satiated his feelings, even for the short time he was in the bar. The first time, a bit apprehensive, not knowing if he’d be recognized or hit upon, Tony was able to sneak out of the bar without being hassled. The second time, though, a very effeminate Latino, who couldn’t have weighed more than 125 pounds dripping wet, ran after him, grabbing the end of his jacket as Tony approached the exit.

Leaving so soon, querido? the queen had said, jutting his hip out and placing a pointed index finger to an imaginary dimple in his cheek.

Shocked and abhorred, Tony pulled his jacket out of the queer’s grasp, stepped back from him, glaring in disgust at the frail creature.

Don’t touch me, you pathetic excuse for a man, he growled, nostrils flaring, eyes ablaze.

Not missing a beat and seemingly unaffected by the remark, the queen retorted, How did you know I was really a girl, sweetie? Was it my beautifully arched eyebrows, or maybe it was my—

Tony, feeling an urge to hurt the pitiable being standing in front of him, impulsively turned on his heels, bolted through the door and ran to his car as fast as he could. That would be the last time he’d venture into a gay bar, he’d told himself, unless he went to one with Darryl. That is, if Darryl would ever consent to going to a gay bar.

Frustrated, desperate to fulfill his secret desires, he then acquired a few gay pornographic videos, which he watched when he knew Colleen wasn’t going to be around. To say he was turned on by the images would be a grave understatement. They were the most fantastic entertainment he’d come across in his life. Tony often prayed that Colleen would be late coming home so that he could masturbate to the movies over and over again. He gawked in amazement at both the sizes of the men’s cocks as well as their ravenous sexual appetites.

But, the more he watched the pornographic videos, the more he recognized he’d have to act on his fantasies sooner than later. In fact, as time went on, Tony became more convinced than ever that he needed to share his sexuality with a man and find out once and for all if this was his true calling. Maybe just a little dabbling in oral sex to see if it was what he imagined it would be. What would a little oral sex matter in the larger scheme of things? And he didn’t care if he were the giver or the receiver. Either way, after all was said and done, he’d know if it was right for him. Jesus Christ, he thought, this was all because of that hunk of man, Darryl Heath, who unwittingly became the conduit in his quest for self realization.

Fully dressed and working on flawlessly knotting his tie, Tony considered how he was going to make Darryl a willing recipient of his lust. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too difficult. But, having built up his courage to finally reveal his true intentions to Darryl, Tony was completely deflated after arriving at work and remembering that Darryl had taken a vacation day and wouldn’t be back till Tuesday. That meant he’d have to endure another frustrating weekend without knowing if the object of his desire would be receptive to him or not.

CHAPTER 3

NATURAL WONDERS/ FRIDAY MORNING

The two couples lay in silence for a while soaking up the sun’s warmth. Twice, Steve tried to interject a comment about the party, but Pamela stifled him by poking him in the ribs. She knew he was only eager to bolster her strategy and assure them a grand-slam homerun that night but the last thing she needed was Steve interfering with her plans and mucking things up like he had a tendency to do at times with his impatient ways. She was totally in control and felt so confident she’d achieve success she was almost willing to lay odds on it. Almost.

She’d learned long ago the effectiveness of being pleasant rather than forcing an issue in getting one’s way. In fact, her own mother had often used an expression that stuck with her whenever she became impatient or agitated. You’ll attract more flies with honey than with vinegar, Pamela. Meaning, if she were sweet rather than snappish, she’d be much more likely to get what she wanted. Act as if, her mother would say, even if you don’t feel like doing it. Act sweetly and any man will be yours. Or any woman, as the case may be, she thought cunningly.

What’s this party all about? Fabienne finally said.

Pamela jumped to attention, straightened up, ready to take her cue. "It’s a big shindig, a holiday party, that a doctor friend of ours puts on every year on

Memorial Day weekend, sort of as a way of welcoming summer." Pamela eyed Fabienne for a reaction.

Oh, so your friend lives here in the desert?

No, he actually lives in Beverly Hills but he has a home here, a really fabulous home, sort of his escape from his crazy patients.

Is he a shrink? Fabienne turned toward Pamela.

Oh, no. He’s a plastic surgeon. A very prominent one, too. He’s nipped, tucked, lifted, reduced and most definitely enlarged some of the most famous body parts in Hollywood. Pamela couldn’t help but scrutinize Fabienne’s near perfect body as she said this. "Of course, you would have no need for his professional services, sweetie, at least not for a very long time.

I, on the other hand, have consulted with him on a couple of areas, she reflexively touched both her breasts, but haven’t had the nerve yet to do anything.

You mean you were going to have a— Fabienne struggled to find the right word.

Breast lift, or in the proper medical vernacular, a mastopexy. Pamela lifted both breasts to a level she thought attractive. It’s really amazing what they can do these days. The surgeon can lift the breasts, take away all excess skin and raise the nipples so that the breasts appear perkier and fuller.

Fabienne seemed startled at Pamela’s bold display. Wow, I see what you mean, she offered then, apparently self-conscious, looked away. I’m sorry, I meant, you don’t really need surgery, you look just fine the way you are. I mean, I view surgery as a last resort.

Really, sweetie? How nice of you to say so. Pamela let go of her breasts, allowing gravity to resume its effect. She felt inclined to get up out of her chair to kiss Fabienne, but restrained herself. Plenty of time for foreplay later. The little hottie was just starting to come around, proving her point about patience. Give Fabienne a few more hours in the sun, a couple of cocktails and all the eye-candy stimulation at the party and Fabienne will be the one ripping off her clothes before anyone else.

So, how long have you two been together? Pamela said, striving to connect on a woman-to-woman level.

Actually only about five months.

Almost six, babe, Darryl interjected, not budging at all.

Cool. You’re a very cute couple. Very cute indeed.

C’mon dear, let’s cool off in the pool, Steve now stood over Pamela holding out his hand. C’mon, we’ve taken up enough of their time already. Let’s leave the two lovebirds alone for a while. He pulled Pamela to her feet.

Pamela gave him a quizzical look but Steve kept towing her toward the pool. See you two in a bit, Pamela said before leaving.

What do you think that was all about? Fabienne said to Darryl when the older couple was out of hearing range.

What do you mean? Darryl turned over on his stomach and looked at her.

I mean, the conversation was bizarre to say the least. Talking about getting her boobs lifted and wild holiday parties. I mean, we just met them and she’s going on about such personal stuff.

I think they’re cool, Darryl said, his head turned toward her. "They’re just trying to be friendly. What else are you going to talk about here? Recipes? Gardening?

No, but did you see the way she held up her boobs to me like she was hoping I’d grope at them or something? It was like she was offering them to me on a platter.

Did you want to touch them? Darryl smiled slyly.

No! Oh, forget it. Fabienne picked up a magazine she’d placed under her chaise and started flipping randomly through the pages.

"You chicks say men are obsessed with tits when it’s really you women that are.

Whatever. Fabienne flipped a few more pages and then stopped. She looked directly at Darryl and then said, Oh, and what do you think of her cute little shave job? I mean, what is that all about?

I like it. I think it’s very sexy. I think you should shave yours, too.

Fabienne threw the magazine at him, got up and stomped to the pool.

Well, you asked, he said as she walked away.

Why were you going on and on with her like that? Steve said as he and Pamela swam to the deep end of the pool. Why didn’t you just cut to the chase like you normally do?

And lose a potentially great fuck? Have you completely lost it?

Better to know up front if they’re into it than get involved with a couple of losers. Steve hung onto the pool’s edge with his fingertips.

What makes you think they’re a couple of losers? Pamela folded her arms on the pool’s coping, kicking her legs underneath her like she was treading water. She’s gorgeous! Or haven’t you noticed. I’ve just got to have her. She licked her lips and made more exaggerated kicks with her feet. And don’t forget, big boy, you get some of her too. But only after I’m finished with her. She splashed some water in his face.

Stop! He winced and wiped his eyes. I’m serious. They just seem so nai’ve and, and…I don’t know. I just can’t put my finger on it. Trust me on this, it’s a feeling I get about ‘em. They are definitely not here for the same reasons we are.

Don’t be such a spoil sport. Have I ever let you down? No! Haven’t I always looked out for you, for both of us?

Yeah, but.

No butts, unless they belong to Fabienne and Darryl.

I sure hope your instincts are right. Otherwise, we’re wasting valuable time. Time that could be better spent on, say, Steve turned around to check out the occupants in the water. That couple over there. He tilted his head in the direction of the couple that was dangling their legs in the water to Pamela’s left.

Nice. Very nice, Pamela said kicking more rapidly. But only after I’ve had my fill of fabulous Fabienne.

They knew better than to partake in the nonstop margaritas Saturday night around the pool, but the Norths rationalized the free-flowing booze would help Fabienne loosen up. It wasn’t that she was so uptight, but she seemed immediately apprehensive and suspicious when she understood what was really going on. The poor girl had obviously never come close to being involved in what used to misogynistically be called wife swapping. And, Pamela really couldn’t blame her for her hesitancy. When she reflected on her own initiation into the lifestyle, it wasn’t love at first sight, either. It took one specific person, in fact, an exceptional woman, to bring out her true self. To draw out of her what was laying dormant inside.

And, it wouldn’t have been proper, but rather even a bit suspect, to pump Fabienne with alcohol while they didn’t touch a drop. For his part, Darryl was no threat to Pamela’s plan in the least and seemed ready in indulge in drinking at the drop of a hat and partake of any activity that went together with alcohol. Pam-ela—with her highly attuned sixth sense—got the distinct feeling that Darryl had either been involved in the lifestyle or had dabbled in bisexuality at some point in his adult life, and that he had not shared that aspect of his persona with Fabienne. Call her psychic, intuitive or just plain sharp, Pamela could sense these things about people. The same way she sensed that Fabienne would be malleable like putty in her able hands. All she needed was a mature woman like herself to show her the way.

Pamela was more than encouraged when she and Steve greeted Fabienne and Darryl in the lobby of the hotel. Pamela had slithered into a diaphanous, body-hugging mini dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination because she had absolutely nothing on underneath it. Her spiked heels elongated her legs as well as her body giving her a more slender appearance. Sauntering over to Fabienne, Pamela nearly scooped up the young thing who was dressed more casually in low-slung white jeans and a crop top. Because she wore wedge sandals, Fabienne was a good two inches shorter than Pamela, giving the older woman a distinctively dominating advantage.

Fabienne surprised even herself when she hugged Pamela back as if she were a long-lost friend she hadn’t seen in a decade. The two remained in an embrace for a long while, giving Steve and Darryl reason to snicker like school boys.

You look fabulous,