Docstoc

the_honeymoon_blues

Document Sample
the_honeymoon_blues Powered By Docstoc
					<!--ADULTSONLY-->
<meta http-equiv="pics-label" content='(pics-1.1
"http://www.icra.org/ratingsv02.html" l gen true for "http://asstr.org" r
(cz 1 la 1 lb 1 lc 1 na 1 nb 1 nc 1 nd 1 ne 1 nf 1 ng 1 nh 1 ni 1 oa 1 ob
1 oc 1 of 1 og 1 oh 1 va 1 vb 1 vc 1 vd 1 ve 1 vf 1 vg 1 vh 1 vi 1 vj 1
vk 1) "http://www.rsac.org/ratingsv01.html" l gen true for
"http://asstr.org" r (n 4 s 4 v 4 l 4))' />
<SCRIPT LANGUAGE=JavaScript
SRC=http://www.asstr.org/scripts/common.js></script>
<SCRIPT LANGUAGE=JavaScript
SRC=http://www.asstr.org/scripts/scroller2.js></script>
<SCRIPT Language="Javascript">
<!--
runScroller();
//-->
</SCRIPT>
<pre>
Julie was one of a dying breed of women ... a woman who swore she would
give her virginity only to her husband. She caught a lot of flack for
that, growing up, but her virginity was intact when she arrived in the
Bahamas for her honeymoon. That's when things started going terribly
wrong. Despite an unbelievable series of fantastic events, Julie somehow
manages, even though she doesn't know it, to do exactly what she swore
she
would do.


Codes: MF, Slow, Rom, Oral, Inc, First
==================================================================
The Honeymoon Blues

By Beating Off Bob
(beatingoffbob@yahoo.com)


   Julie Phips, soon to be Julie Crandall, sat at her dressing table,
gazing into the mirror at the five-foot eleven-inch woman staring back at
her. She looked critically at the long, straight, almost blue-black hair
that fell down her back. She couldn't see it from this position, but she
knew it went to the small of her back. She had been growing that hair
for
twenty-two years, in anticipation of her wedding day. That day was
tomorrow. She looked at her high cheekbones, and arching eyebrows. In
her
opinion, she looked like a non-nonsense business woman. Her eyes fell to
the deep cleavage exposed by the almost non-existent bra she was wearing.
It went with panties that consisted of even less material. She blushed,
even though she couldn't see those panties, seated as she was. Julie had
spent all her life thinking in decidedly conservative terms about her
body,
and the mystical thing called sexuality in books.

   She had developed early, which brought attention from boys, and later
men, that wasn't welcome. It wasn't that Julie didn't like males of the
species. She had all the same feelings and emotions that any girl has,
growing up. But her mother's choice of men had convinced her that she
had
to be very, very careful about the men she allowed into her own life.
Her
mother had made miserable choices ... four or five of them. The first
was
her biological father. She didn't remember him at all. He had left when
she was only a year old. The succeeding "fathers" in her life were
little
better. Number three had tried to hit on her when she was in the blush
of
woman-hood, at seventeen.

   She had done a little dating, tentatively, like someone who lived in a
cave, and occasionally went outside for short periods, to see what the
lighted world might be like. But that world was full of danger and
conflict, and she usually retreated back into her solitary life, safe in
her room, with her books, and stuffed animals, and dreams.

   She went to college to get away from Hank, number three husband of her
mother. She soon learned that announcing she was still a virgin, and
intended to remain that way until her wedding night, got her only
derision
from her female friends, and an attitude of almost attack from men whose
single intent was to divest her of that virginity. Of course she knew
that
her virginity was only hypothetical, since her hymen had been thoroughly
destroyed by both ordinary things that modern girls inserted into their
vaginas, and the fingers she used like all other girls used, to take the
edge off her wildly aroused body as hormones flowed through her blood
stream.

   Still, in her view, she was a virgin. Her stubborn hold on that view,
she admitted to herself on numerous occasions, was probably why she never
had a lasting romantic relationship with a man. Things always got to the
point where both of them wanted to do what came naturally. But Julie
required the kind of commitment ... before doing that ... that all the
men she had met just hadn't been willing to give. There are many men who
want to marry a virgin.

   But there are few men who want to date one.

   Her degree firmly in hand, she interned at a large corporation, hoping
that now that she was going to be around mature men, she might finally be
able to find one who would respect her wishes, and be able to commit to
marriage.

   That was when she met Roger.

   Roger was high up in the company - not quite a vice president yet, but
clearly an up-and-comer. He was dashing, and handsome, and suave. He
was
also quite professional towards Julie as, during his infrequent visits to
the headquarters, where she worked, he interacted with her on this or
that
project.

   The rest of the time he was jetting here, and there, all over the
world,
making deals, and making money, and ... most probably ... making women
sigh frequently. He told her, in an off hand kind of way, he was
unattached. He didn't say it like he intended her to change that. It
was
more of a small confidence, shared with a co-worker, in a moment of
camaraderie.

   "There are lots of women out here," he had said.   "It's just that the
ones I meet don't make my heart sing."

   She said she fully understood what he meant.

   Somehow, in ways that she couldn't put her finger on, their shared
confidences happened more often, and with deeper and deeper intimacy,
until
it seemed like there was nothing they couldn't talk about as they went
over
the details of making his latest business score come to fruition. He
never
had dates, and worked long past the time the family men turned off the
light and went home to the wife and 1.7 children, and perhaps the dog.

   It got so that, during his month-long trips, she missed him. He was
one
of the few people in the company she felt comfortable talking to on an
intimate level. He understood how she felt. He complimented her on her
resolve, and moral strength. He encouraged her, telling her that a
beautiful, intelligent woman like herself would soon have her pick of
available men.

   The gifts he brought her from abroad were small, inconsequential
things.
He brought her a hand-thrown pot from India. He brought her a native
doll
from Africa. He brought her a fur hat from Pakistan. The closest thing
to
an intimate gift he brought her was a small vial of perfume from London,
where he went most often.

   "I smelled it on a woman I met there," he explained, "and immediately
thought of you for some strange reason. So I inquired, and got you some
to
try out."

   She had loved the subtle complexity of the perfume, which wasn't
overpowering, but still could be detected, even when applied in tiny
amounts. She got several comments on it from others she worked with.     It
made her feel good.
   On her twenty-second birthday, a day she hadn't planned on celebrating
at all, she found a card in her mail box. It was from Roger. Neatly
handwritten in the blank area were the words: "Hang in there. You're a
prize worth the effort, and soon, some man will awaken to that fact. My
best to you on this special day."

   His signature was formal, and included his last name. That was the
first time she did what millions of women do at this or that time in
their
lives. She imagined his last name, behind her first.

   Julie Crandall.   It had a nice ring to it.

   The next time he was back in the States, they worked long into the
evening.

   "I'm bushed," he sighed when they finished.   "Starved too.   You want
to
grab a bite to eat?"

   She expected a hamburger, or sub sandwich. He took her to a
restaurant
instead, a nice one, where a meal cost more than a young woman on an
intern's salary would want to spend.

   "This one's on me," he announced. "You work hard to help me succeed,"
he said, taking her elbow and guiding her to the table the Maitre Dee led
them to. "You deserve a good meal."

   He didn't treat it like a "date", and the things they chatted about
were
fun and light.

   Somehow, that became more or less a tradition with them. They worked
hard, and then he took her somewhere to reward her. He never tried to
kiss
her, or touch her in sexual ways, though his touch on her elbow began to
feel different to her in ways she couldn't quite understand.

   Then a night came where, during dinner, he said that a show might be
nice.

   "Are you asking me out on a date?" Julie asked, her eyebrow arching
more
than usual.

   "Well," he said off-handedly, "I wasn't thinking of it quite that way.
But, now that you mention it, I have to admit I'd be proud to be by your
side in a situation that might be thought of as a date." He looked at her
seriously. "I wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, though."

   "How could I feel uncomfortable with you?" she asked, honestly.   She
was, by now, completely comfortable in his presence.
   What made it different was that, like friends, they discussed what was
going on between them. She mentioned, at one point, that most men would
have tried to kiss her, or paw her by this point in a relationship.

   "I have to confess I've thought of that," he said simply. "But you're
special. It would be like cursing out loud in an art gallery or
something
... wouldn't it?"

   She said she didn't know, and he jokingly suggested they should try it
... just for experimental purposes, of course.

   That first kissed rocked her to her toes.

   Everything on her body tingled. His lips were soft and warm, not
demanding. His touch on her waist was also light, the fingertips
pressing
only enough to let her know his hands were there. His chest touched her
so
lightly that only her nipples felt that touch. She had somewhat
awkwardly
placed her hands on his shoulders, but suddenly they felt like they were
right where they should be. He increased the pressure on her lips ...
just a tad ... and then pulled back, to stare into her wide eyes.

   "Wow," she said breathlessly.   "We probably shouldn't do that any
more."

   "I rather liked it." He grinned. "I think I could make that sacrifice
again. It wasn't so terrible ... was it?"

   "Oh, not terrible at all!" she sighed. "That's why we probably
shouldn't do it again. I liked it ... too much."

   "You make me feel strange," he commented casually.

   "What?" she asked.

   "I don't know. I just feel differently about you than other women ...
that I've kissed, I mean."

   "You've kissed a lot of women," she stated.

   "Of course.   You've kissed a lot of men too."

   "Not so many," she said.   "You know how picky I am."

   "All the more to be honored that you liked what we just did," he said
suavely.

   Twice after that, he didn't try to kiss her. She found herself
anticipating it ... and when it didn't happen, she felt, somehow, a
loss.
   The third time he said "I wish I could kiss you again."

   "Why can't you?" she asked, tingling already.

   "You said we shouldn't," he said simply.

   "Oh," she said meekly.   "Maybe once more wouldn't be so bad." she
ventured.

   This time, he held her more closely, in a full body embrace.   She felt
weak with the power of that kiss.

   Before she could say anything, he kissed her again.

   "You make me want things I've never wanted before," he said.

   "What kind of things?" she asked dreamily.

   "I've never thought of settling down," he said, clearly suggesting
that
he was now thinking differently.

   It was like a whirlwind. In the next few minutes Julie somehow found
herself holding the man of her dreams. His whispered confessions about
dreaming of taking her home each night ... his claims of fighting it,
and
losing, and then dreaming about it for hours on end ... melted her and
caused emotions in her that threatened to overwhelm her completely. When
he finally dropped her off at her apartment, his hand only strayed to the
side of her bra-encased breast as he kissed her one last time. She
didn't
feel threatened at all.

   Still, though, when she woke up the next morning, she didn't know
exactly where they stood. She had a hard time remembering everything he
had said the night before. When she went in to work, and he was there,
waiting for her, she looked at him wondering what she should say.

   "I missed you," he said softly.

   "Last night?" she asked.

   "Yes." He frowned. "I've always liked travelling. I have to leave
later today, and somehow it's not the same any more. Missing you last
night, as I lay in my lonely bed ... it made me think of the next two
weeks, and how much I'll miss you then too."

   The thrills went on and on for Julie, as the next month brought them
closer and closer together. Upon his return, he requested their first
'formal' date. From there she felt like she was on some kind of theme
park
ride. The dream continued until, one night, he opened a box and
displayed
the ring he begged her to accept.

   She had no one to share her unbounded joy with. She spoke to her
mother
only when she had to, and the women she had decided to call her friends
were shallow party girls, who never thought about anything further out
than
their next date, and the bedroom that would lead to.

   She accepted his proposal. He wanted to be married soon. His reasons
were expected. His hands now strayed to various places on her body,
inflaming her desire, his own quite pronounced and easily detected as he
pressed his stiff manhood against her.

   But he never tried to get her to go further than some heavy petting.
Had he asked, she might, this time, have succumbed to her inflamed lust.
Still, something in her insisted that she live her whole dream, and she
promised him she would be ready for him on their wedding night.

   He insisted that she tell her mother about the wedding.

   Her mother wanted to help her plan the event.

   He said he didn't care when, or where, or how it happened. His only
desire was to add his last name behind her first. What harm could it
cause
if her mother got to help with her only daughter's wedding?

   "Make her happy this one time," he said.   "You never have to see her
again after that if you don't want to."

   That was how she found herself, suddenly on thirty days of vacation
that
most interns never got, back home, making wedding plans with the help of
her mother.

   "Finally going to let a man between your legs?" asked her mother
conversationally, as she suggested the caterer serve Bar B Q.

   "You know why I've waited, Mother," said Julie, defensively.

   "Damn waste of time, if you ask me," said her mother.

   "That's why I didn't ask you, Mother," said Julie shortly.

   "Well, at least you landed one with some money, and a hot future.
Funny
about his name, though ..."

   "Why?   asked Julie.   "What's wrong with his name?"

   Her mother's eyes went out of focus for a few seconds, and then
cleared
again.
   "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Wear something slinky for your
honeymoon," her mother leered. "They like slinky. It'll drive him
wild."

   "He's already wild," said Julie.

   "And shave your pussy," said her mother coarsely.    "That drives 'em
crazy too."

   It was all Julie could do, to endure her mother's constant comments
and
general attitude. She called Roger, almost nightly, complaining about
having to deal with her mother's insistent demands for a garish wedding.

   "It's just a few weeks, Darling," he said soothingly.    "And I'll whisk
you away from all of that forever."

   "All right," she sighed.   "But I'm only doing this for you."

   "You only get to do this once," he said.   "I want you to remember that
day for the rest of your life."

   "My mother's done it five times," she said jokingly.    "That's why she
thinks she's so good at planning weddings."

   "You know what I mean," he said. "YOU are only going to get married
once. I'm so proud to be the man you've chosen. I promise you you'll
never even think of getting married again."

   "Why can't we just elope?" she begged.

   "My mother would never forgive me," he laughed. "She's been begging
me
to get married for years. One time she even threatened to cut me out of
her will. At last I can get her off my back too. Thought then I suppose
she'll start hounding me for grandchildren. I'm looking forward to that,
though."

   That sent a tingle through her that made her flush with happiness.
She
had told him she wanted lots of children. She had lots of love in her
heart, and had no one to give that love to. He had agreed that a big
family was something he'd always dreamed of too.

   "We'll start that very night," she breathed into the phone.     "I'm not
going on the pill .. is that all right?"

   "Perfect, my darling," he said.    "I can't wait."

   And so she endured the leering remarks of her mother and number five,
who was just as coarse, and made must as many crude remarks on what she
should do on her wedding night. He even bought her "a getup" for her to
wear, saying "That'll give him a mammoth boner, sweet thing! You want to
model it for me?"

   Her mother had been there, and had slapped the horrid man on the arm.
But she had laughed too, telling him that what was between his legs was
for
HER, and not her virgin daughter.

   It was that 'getup' she was wearing, as she sat, staring into the
mirror. Unsure of what else to do, and having no experience at being
"sexual" around a man, she reluctantly took her mother and step-father's
advice. She had carefully shaved off the raven mat that grew between her
legs, until it looked obscenely bare. She had never seen the split of
her
sex without that hair above it, and now it looked like it bulged from her
loins, screaming to be fondled and ... whatever else went along with
having sex.

   She knew about oral sex, of course. No girl can grow up without
hearing
lurid descriptions of that, but of course she had never done it, or let
it
be done to her. And she knew about intercourse too, by virtue of the
same
lurid descriptions of her friends, as they tried to convince her it was
the
best thing in the world, and that she should jump on the bandwagon and
get
her cherry popped.

   She had to admit that, at least in her own opinion, she looked sexy.
She stood, and let the transparent jacket of "the outfit" gape open. The
crotch of the panties had sunk between those fat lips again. She
couldn't
seem to get it to cover them for more than a few seconds. It looked
ridiculous. Her nipples were almost showing too. She could clearly see
the dark rim of her areolas, the coral colored tiny nipples barely hiding
behind the cloth of the bra.

   She sighed. Roger would either love it ...   or hate it.   She had no
idea which would happen.

   But she couldn't think of anything else to do. She didn't even know
what to pack for the honeymoon. Roger had gleefully said he had
everything
planned, but that it was a surprise, and not to worry about anything.

   "I have an uncle." he'd said. " I haven't seen him for years, but
when
my mother told him I was finally getting married, he offered to take care
of the honeymoon. It's a big secret, but I know you'll love it.

   She turned sideways. She'd always thought her breasts were too big.
They stuck out like big firm melons. She'd heard about "the pencil test"
somewhere, and, when she accepted Roger's proposal, had tried it that
very
night. The pencil dropped like a stone, her breasts not sagging enough
even to hold it temporarily.

   She looked at her watch. It was time to put on her wedding dress.
She
felt a lurch in her stomach, and had a terrible, sudden fear that she was
doing the wrong thing. She took off "the getup" and slipped the tiny
bundle of cloth into her carryon bag. She had a pair of running shorts
and
a tank top in there, along with some sandals and the minimum of personal
hygiene products needed for an overnight stay. Roger had said he'd take
care of everything else.

   She was just shrugging the dress up over her shoulders when her mother
barged into the room. She stopped short, staring at her daughter.

   "My baby ... getting married," she sighed. She wiped at her eyes
with
one finger each, being careful to avoid the heavily applied mascara above
them.

   "Am I doing the right thing?" asked Julie, apprehensively.    "I feel
all
jittery and nervous."

   "You always feel that way," said her mother sagely.    "I felt that way
all five times."

   That didn't help Julie's feelings of dread at all.    Her mother had
screwed up all five times.

   "Don't worry about it, baby," crooned her mother. "You just get
yourself good and laid tonight and you'll forget all about being
nervous."

   Julie tightened her lips, but prevented the frown that wanted to
furrow
her brow. She submitted to her mother's primping and pulling and
tugging,
but drew the line at the heavy makeup the woman wanted to smear all over
her face.

   "Just a little eyeliner, and some powder to smooth out my cheekbones,"
said Julie. "Maybe a touch of lipstick.

   "At least let me put on some eye shadow," whined her mother.    "You
look
like you haven't eaten in weeks."

   "I'll have you know I got on the scales this morning and I've gained
five whole POUNDS!" said Julie heatedly. "I weigh a whopping hundred and
thirty-five POUNDS, Mother!"
   "Humph" said the woman, who weighed fifty pounds more, and was three
inches shorter. "A man likes some meat on your bones," she said smugly.
"Something to hang on to while he makes you squeal."

   "I do not intend to ...   squeal, Mother," said Julie, her voice
dignified.

   "You need to loosen up," said her mother affably. "When you get your
ashes hauled tonight, you're going to wish you'd given it up YEARS ago.
You won't want to do anything else on your entire honeymoon. You mark my
words, baby. Do you need any pointers?"

   Julie almost shuddered, remembering all the times she'd heard the
banging and thumping and moans and groans coming through the wall between
her bedroom and her mother's, over the years. Seeing her mother's
lipstick
smeared face after such episodes hadn't helped to make her think anything
pleasant was going on during them either. Her mother always had a stupid
grin on her face after loud sex, almost a smirk ... the same smirk that
some of her girlfriends had on their faces as they spun tales of what had
happened in the back seat of Jimmy's or Frank's car after the game
Saturday
night. Julie wanted tenderness and love, not some rampaging bull
molesting
her pale body.

   She caused her tense muscles to relax. Roger had been nothing but
tender during their courtship. She smiled. She was sure her honeymoon
would go just as she had dreamed it would for so many years. She was
lucky
beyond measure to have found Roger.

   Yes, all would go well.

   ======================================================

   The wedding went better than she had expected. Her side of the family
filled more than half the church, and included all of her mother's ex
husbands except her biological father. No one knew where he was, and
therefore couldn't notify him of the event. Roger's family were, of
course
of a much higher caliber, socially. They held themselves more aloof,
drinking wine rather than the beer her own family swilled gleefully. The
reception line was a trial, as her uncles and cousins pressed their
sweaty
bodies, under flushed faces, some already glassy-eyed from drink, and
wished her well while pressing their groins against hers. She pasted a
smile on her face, and moved them along. Her mother bawled openly, her
makeup running like dark rivers down her cheeks. Julie had the humorous
vision of her mother as a native of some kind, maybe from Africa, where
her
little doll had come from, with face painted that way intentionally, to
celebrate her daughter's joyful day.
   But her mother had been drinking heavily too, and made a scene when
she
groped husband number four while they danced. Husband number five took
offense, and there was almost a fight. Four of her male cousins boasted
about how they had "done up the getaway car to the max" and laughed. She
had visions of "Just married pussy" scrawled across the back window of
the
car. That was the kind of thing they'd think was cute. She'd been to
one
family wedding where her cousins stapled together packets of condoms, and
draped them in long strings over the vehicle, and through the open
windows.
"Just married - Just about to fuck" had been painted on another car.
And,
of course, there would be the almost endless string of beer cans tied to
the bumper. In fact, Julie had warned Roger that he might want to get a
rental car to leave the wedding in, just so his beautiful BMW wouldn't
get
trashed by her loutish relatives.

   When the time finally came, and Julie was standing in her dressing
room,
now dressed in her travel clothing, clutching her carry-on bag nervously,
Roger eased the door open and grinned at her.

   "Come on!" he whispered.   "Let's make our getaway!"

   But, instead of turning toward the front of the building, he pulled
her
toward the back. the best man was sitting in the driver's seat of a car
Julie had never seen, and Roger ushered her urgently into the back.

   Thus, they completely escaped the throng of people who waited   to wish
them well with the obligatory, and environmentally friendly bird   seed.
When her relatives learned that a back-door exit had been pulled   on them,
they simply started throwing bird seed at each other. Most were    too
drunk
already to be all that unhappy about it.

   "What will happen to your car?" asked Julie, concerned, as the best
man
sped away.

   "I didn't bring it." He smiled. I had Jeff bring me, and he's going
to
drop us off at the airport. He'll pick us up when we get back too, won't
you Jeff, buddy?"

   "Sure thing boss," said the best man, grinning into the rear view
mirror. "Especially if I can give a welcome home kiss to the bride."

   Roger laughed and leaned back, his hand going to Julie's thigh and
caressing her there. "We'll see. I plan to have her so satisfied she
won't want to kiss another man ever again," he crowed.

   Jeff handed a flask back over the seat back.   "Cheers!" he laughed.

   Roger took a deep pull out of the flask, and the smell of hard liquor
wafted to Julie's nose. He offered her the flask, but she shook her
head.
A sip of wine, now and then was enough for her.

   During the ride, she finally weaseled out of him where they were going
for their honeymoon.

   "Uncle Bob has a resort down in the Bahamas," he said happily. "He
apparently got out of the stock market before the tech bubble burst, and
retired down there. He has graciously offered us the honeymoon cottage
at
his resort for the week. We've got sun and surf and great food to look
forward to, darling. Everything is arranged."

   "What about clothes?" asked Julie. "I packed the bags you told me to,
but I didn't put in a swim suit, or things for the beach!"

   "I wanted it to be a surprise. I'll get you a new one. I thought
about
asking your mother to get some things together secretly, but I listened
to
you when you told me all those stories about your relatives. I thought
you
were exaggerating, really, but your mother actually tried to French kiss
me
in the receiving line!" He chuckled. "Besides, you won't even need a
swim
suit. Uncle Bob's place is a nude beach! Doesn't that sound great?"

   "You'll need a bodyguard," said Jeff, laughing. "I'll be happy to
come
along and guard you both while you swim." He leered into the rear view
mirror and Julie felt herself blush.

   "No way, turkey," laughed Roger. "She's all mine. I've been waiting
for almost a year to see her naked, and it's finally going to happen
tonight!" His hand slid up her thigh and she instinctively blocked his
goal
with her hand.

   "Come on, darling, we're married now," he almost whined.

   "Not in front of Jeff!" she whispered hotly.

   "Hey," came the call from the front seat. "Don't mind me ... I can't
see anything at all." He was adjusting the rear view mirror the whole
time,
looking directly into Julie's eyes.
   "I'll be ready when we get there," said Julie, blushing harder.   "You
just be patient a little longer."

   Roger gave an exaggerated sigh of frustration, and took another hit
off
the flask. To her dismay, he finished the flask on the way to the
airport.


   "Hey, take it easy, there, Tiger," she joked at one point. "I want
you
in good shape tonight." She had never seen him drink this heavily the
entire time she'd known him.

   "I'll be fine," he said, waving the flask.   "I wouldn't miss tonight
for
anything."

   In fact, they made it through check-in at the airport with no trouble.
Roger pulled himself together quite nicely. Julie felt better when they
took their seats in first class. It was the first time Julie had flown,
and she was nervous about that. Veteran flier that he was, Roger pooh
poohed her worries and slurped thirstily at the drink the flight
attendant
placed in front of him.

   "Have a drink," he said.   "That's what I always do.   It'll relax you
just fine."

   He insisted that she sit by the window, telling her she'd enjoy the
view. She did too, watching in awe as the ground dropped away as she was
pressed firmly into the seat back. Her stomach did flip flops as things
got smaller and smaller, until they were absolutely tiny. Her face was
pressed to the window constantly, until they entered a cloud bank and the
beautiful view was cut off.

   Roger continued to nurse a drink all the way to the islands.

   They flew out of the clouds, but Julie soon got bored with the
unobstructed view of nothing but water. The boats she thought she saw
were
so small that she couldn't tell anything about them, and there really
wasn't much else to look at. She tried to engage her new husband in
conversation, but he nodded off, napping in fits and starts, waking only
to
drink more whiskey.

   "Sorry," he slurred. "Guess the big day took more out of me than I
thought. That's some family you have." He grinned, and his eyes slid
closed.

   By the time they disembarked, Roger needed her steadying hand on HIS
elbow to navigate the terminal. She waited patiently while Roger sank
into
a seat, at the baggage claim area. When the other passengers had claimed
their bags, the only ones left were not, according to an attendant who
examined their claim stubbs, theirs.

   Inquiries brought no helpful information. The airline's apologies for
whatever mix-up had happened didn't help. Their offer to deliver the
bags
to the resort were thoughtful, but, for now, Julie and Roger had only the
clothes on their backs. Well, Julie had her running gear ... but then
she
hadn't planned on running on her wedding night. Of course, she also had
"the getup". She decided she was very, very glad she had stuffed it into
her carryon. That would take care of tonight. If their luggage was
found
by tomorrow morning, things would be fine.

   Julie poured her weaving husband into a cab and realized she didn't
know
the name of the resort. Roger was dozing again already, and shaking him
didn't seem to help.

   "I know the owner's name is Bob," she offered to the smiling cabby.

   "Ahhhh Missy ..." he grinned.   "You mean Paradise Cove".   I take you
there most quickly, Missy."

   The drive was gorgeous. The sun seemed like it was just inches from
the
horizon, huge and red, staining the clouds pink and purple. It was like
something from a story book. She tried to wake Roger, and got him to
blearily open his eyes to see the sunset.

   "Nice," he said, closing his eyes again.

   The cabby drove as if he were trying to get them to a hospital,
veering
this way and that, until she was tense all over. Roger slumped against
her, occasionally opening his eyes and saying something like "Hello,
gorgeous," before slumping back into what seemed like a nap.

   Paradise cove was, at the same time, everything she could have hoped
for, and everything she was afraid it would be.

   It was secluded, at the end of a long, winding road that cut through
what seemed like primeval jungle to Julie. With only half the sun left
to
see, they pulled into a small cleared area, where something Julie might
have called a shack stood. A sign above the front door said "Welcome to
Paradise Cove". The cabby helped her get Roger out of the cab, and into
the front door.

   The reception desk was vacant. There was a sign on the desk that said
"Gone Fishing". It was weighing down a sheet of paper. Julie looked at
the paper.
   "Roger," it said in neat script. "If you get here while I'm still
gone,
I'll catch up with you later. Whoever brought you here knows where the
honeymoon cottage is. It's unlocked. We don't have to lock anything
around here. Have a wonderful night and I'll see you tomorrow."

   It was signed with a flourish that read "Uncle Bob".

   The cabby had been standing patiently, waiting to be paid, and Julie
showed him the note.

   "It says you know where the honeymoon cottage is," she said
hesitantly.

   "Sure thing, Missy." he grinned, his teeth brilliant white against the
black of his face. "I take you there."

   He helped get Roger back into the cab and they drove off the road,
across the sand, to another smaller clearing. The honeymoon cottage was
also a mixture of what Julie had hoped and feared for. It looked like a
native hut from the outside, but was almost right on the beach. When she
manhandled Roger through the door, she was delighted to find that the
inside was completely modern. There was a large bed in the center of the
wall away from the door. It was draped with mosquito netting that had
been
artfully gathered to drape here and there from the four posts that
supported it. In the wall to the right of the bed was a series of
windows
that could be opened outward, letting in the sea air, or closed. Wooden
slatted venetian blinds could be lowered to cover them. The bathroom had
a
shower big enough for six people, and a Jacuzzi as well. There was a
tiny
kitchenette, with a fully stocked refrigerator.

   Julie heard a noise and turned to see that Roger had recuperated and
was
handing the grinning cabby a wad of American cash.

   "Thank you, my man," he slurred.

   "No problem, mon," said the cabby.   "You want to see the island, you
call Teddy, right, mon?"

   "Sure thing, mon," giggled Roger.

   Teddy left, waving cheerfully, and Roger took in the room.

   "Nice and cozy," he said, wobbling a little on his feet.

   "You want me to make you some coffee?" asked Julie, thinking that
would
perk him up.
   "What I want to see you buck naked!" He grinned.

   She blushed, feeling an unfamiliar thrill shoot through her body.

   At last, the night she had been waiting for all her life was here.

   ===============================================================

   It was actually harder for her to get naked in front of her groom than
she had thought it would be.

   "I feel so strange," she explained. "Before this there have always
been
... limits. It just feels so odd to think that I'm finally going to ...
do it."

   "Oh, baby, you're going to DO it a lot!" sighed Roger, sidestepping to
the wall. He held himself up while he tried to take off a shoe without
falling over.

   "I brought something to wear for you," said Julie timidly.

   "Well let's get TO it," said Roger, working his other shoe loose and
kicking it across the room.

   "OK, I'll go get changed, and then you can see me," she said shyly.

   "I'll be here, ready and waiting," he mumbled, working at his belt.
He
sidestepped again, and his hip hit the kitchen table. There was a
container with ice on the table, a bottle of champagne stuck firmly in
the
ice. He grabbed at it with both hands. "Oops ... don't want to knock
THAT over."

   Julie ducked into the bathroom and nervously dropped her clothing.
She
worked the tiny panties on, and shrugged into the bra as she heard the
"POP" of the cork exiting the champagne bottle. She put the jacket on,
and
then decided, with a thrilling feeling, to leave it off. She dropped it
on
top of her clothes. Standing tall, and thrusting her chest out, she
opened
the door and walked into the main room, more naked than any man had ever
seen her.

   She was just in time to see Roger tipping the champagne bottle back
down. He had been drinking from the opening. He set the bottle down hard
on the table, and leaned toward her.

   "Ohhhh baby, you look so hot!"
   "You like it?" she preened.    "I got it just for you."

   "Ohhh honey, you have no idea how long I've wanted to see you like
that."

   He fumbled furiously with his belt, side stepping again as he lost his
balance. He hit the edge of the bed and fell onto it, kicking until his
pants fell off his feet. He wasn't, she saw, wearing any underwear, and
she got a curious look at her first erect male organ. It was impressive,
though she had a hard time seeing it clearly because his gyrations made
it
flop this way and that alarmingly. He sat back up and tore at his shirt
until all he had on was his socks. He reached for one of them and
missed,
almost falling off the bed.

   "I'll get those for you, darling," said Julie, rushing to him.

   He lifted his head and stared at her breasts.

   "Yummy," he giggled.

   "All for you, darling," she cooed, kneeling to pull his socks off.

   He flopped back on the bed and raised his feet to help. She took the
opportunity to stare at his phallus, which now lay, long and hard on his
stomach. She knew about circumcision, and decided his must be that way.
The tip was purplish, and shiny, and went from a stubby tip to flare out
and then dip back in. From there it was a fleshy column that went down
to
a surprisingly pink set of testicles with sparse hair on them. When she
got one foot bare, it poked at her breasts while she tried to capture the
other foot. He couldn't judge the distance, and his foot hit her right
breast harder than he intended.

   "OUCH!" she yipped, standing back and rubbing at her sore boob.

   "Sorry." He grinned.   "I'm just too anxious."

   "You're drunk!" she said heatedly.    "THAT's what you are."

   "I'm not drunk," he whined.    "I'm in.n.n.n.nibreated." He giggled.

   "Roger, honey," she pleaded.    "I wanted this night to be romantic."

   With an obvious effort, he pulled himself together.

   "Sorry, baby," he said more clearly.    "Come here.   I'll be romantic."

   She left the other sock on, and went to the bed. He pulled her over
him
and rolled. It was a water bed, she realized, as she bobbed up and down
and there were sloshing noises under her.
   He WAS more romantic, too. His embrace was tender, and his kisses
along
her neck were electrifying. When his lips got closer and closer to her
nipples, her body began to tense up with the anticipation of feeling
something for the very first time.

   But then he reversed, and kissed his way back up to her lips, while
his
hand covered the breast she had been ready for him to bare ... and
suckle.

   His kisses, though alcohol tainted, were also warm and inviting, and,
this time, when his hand slid across her flat belly, her own hands just
fluttered and went to his back. His fingers slid onto the cloth that was
already trying to suck itself between the lips of her sex, and she
groaned.

   "Can I touch you?" she asked, breathing harder.

   "Baby, you can do anything with me you want to," he breathed into her
ear.

   Her hand hit his prick, and she fumbled to grasp it.   It felt warm in
her hand.

   "Ohhhh, yeahhhh," he groaned, rolling away from her to lie on his
back.
"Rub it for me, baby,"

   "I don't know how," she said meekly.

   His hand came to help her learn the stroke, and he told her to grip it
tighter, and then not so tight as her fist clamped down hard.

   "Ohhh fuck that feels good," he moaned.   "You do that so nice, honey."

   Julie felt the glow of satisfaction as she made her new husband feel
good.

   Suddenly, long strings of milky white were spurting from the thing in
her hand.

   "Ohhh FUCK!" he grunted, arching his hips up.

   Julie jerked her hand away as warmth splattered on it, and stared at
it
to see that milky white stuff dripping from her fingers. Roger's own
hand
darted to his prick and grasped it, jerking it fiercely as another long
string of spunk flashed into the air.

   "Ohhh fuck," he groaned again softly. His hand grew limp, and fell to
the bed beside him. His head lolled sideways, his eyes closed.
   "Roger!" squeaked Julie.

   He didn't respond.

   "ROGER!" she said loudly.

   She reached her sperm-covered hand out and shook him, gently at first,
and then more violently. He started to snore.

   "DAMN YOU!" she shouted.    "DON'T YOU FALL ASLEEP ON ME NOW!"

   But nothing she did roused him from his drink-induced slumber this
time.

   CHAPTER TWO

   He was breathing normally, and had a smile on his face. Her hand was
a
mess, and it had gotten on her naked leg too. It had been warm at first,
but now was cooling and felt slimy somehow. She got up. She realized
she
was panting, and her loins was on fire. He had finished, but she was
left
high and dry.

   Disgusted, she went to the bathroom and cleaned up with a warm wash
cloth. She stared at her passed-out husband for a few minutes and, with
a
frustrated sigh, finally put on the running shorts and tank top. She
thought about the sports bra, but no one knew her here, and she thought
the
cloth of the tank top would feel good on her aching nipples, so she left
it
off. Maybe a run would help.

   ========================================

   The beach was beautiful in the moonlight, and she lengthened her
stride.
Now her breathing was because of the run, and not because she was so
inflamed she could hardly think.

   She had no idea the half-buried coconut was there until her right foot
stepped on it, half on, half off, and her ankle twisted painfully. She
went down in a heap, getting sand in her face and hair. She felt searing
pain, and fears of something broken made her panic.

   At first her cries of pain brought no one. It was late, and the beach
was apparently deserted. Finally, though, a shadow moved toward her.

   "Are you OK Miss?" came a deep voice.

   "My ankle," she moaned.    "I twisted it running."
   He knelt and she felt his strong fingers play over her ankle.      She
tried
to suppress a moan of pain as he manipulated the joint.

   "Swollen quite a bit, but I don't think it's broken.   Where are you
staying?"

   "Up there," she pointed.    "The honeymoon cottage."

   "You're Sarah?" came his deep voice.

   "You know my name?" she asked.

   "Bob Crandall, at your service," he said.    "I'm David's uncle.   Yours
too, now, I suppose."

   "Oh," she said, relieved.

   "Let's get you up to the cottage and get some ice on this," he said.

   He lifted her effortlessly, and she felt light as a feather. As he
carried her through the door of the cottage, she thought about how Roger
should have done this. She was surprised to find herself melting against
her new uncle's chest as if he were her husband, and felt a pang of loss
that Roger would never be the first to carry her over their first
threshold. She also felt warm and safe after the fright of her fall and
injury, and the feeling of being so alone when no one came, at first.

   David lay, still passed out on the bed, naked, and she felt
embarrassed.

   "I wondered where he was," said Bob.   "I was a little surprised you
were
out running."

   In the light, she saw he was handsome. His brown hair had traces of
gray in it, and was shaggy against the deep brown of his tanned face.
For
the first time she realized his chest was bare.

   "He had a bit too much to drink," she said weakly.

   "He should have known better. We Crandall men don't do well with
alcohol, even small amounts of it. At least it looks like he did his
duty
before he passed out," chuckled Bob.

   "No! He didn't!" she muttered, before she could stop it from coming
out
of her mouth.

   "Oh ...   sorry," said Bob.   "I'll just put you down on the bed beside
him."
   It wasn't until she relaxed onto the bed and he stood up that she
realized, with a shock, that all of him was bare. His penis jutted from
a
nest of brown hair, thick and half hard.

   "Sorry," he said, not covering himself. "It IS a nude beach." He
grinned. "I didn't plan on rescuing a damsel in distress."

   Sarah felt the heat of her blush, but, with an effort, made herself
look
at him. Actually, it wasn't hard to look at him at all, in one sense.
All
of him was tan and fit, with broad shoulders, and well muscled arms.
Even
his penis looked bulky, as if it exercised often too. It looked bigger,
somehow, than Roger's had. She bit her lip at the thought, and felt heat
in her belly too. And this one wasn't naked on the tip. It looked
smoother, and there was a little round collar of skin that the shiny tip
peeked out from within. She realized he was NOT circumcised, and
immediately saw the irony of the fact that she had seen both types of
penis
on her wedding night, when most women only saw one or the other.

   Bob moved off to get the ice, and when he returned his penis was
smaller
... much smaller.

   "It shrank!" she blurted, again, before she could stop herself.

   He laughed. "It was misbehaving earlier. I had no idea I'd be
carrying
a beautiful woman around in my arms, and it reacted, I'm afraid. I told
it
to behave itself while I got you the ice.

   "Oh," she said, embarrassed again.   "I shouldn't have said anything."

   "Nonsense. A newlywed bride should have such things on her mind,
after
all." He grinned.

   His ease made her more comfortable. "I suppose so, though David's
didn't do me any good at all." she said with a little pique.

   "Ah, well, maybe tomorrow," said Bob, packing ice around her ankle.
"It's swelling up pretty badly, but I still don't think you broke
anything.
You'll have to stay off it for a day or two."

   "But it's my honeymoon!" she complained.

   "You can still swim," he said.
   "No, I can't," she said. "Our luggage got lost. This," she pointed
to
her tank top, "and the clothes I wore down here are all I have."

   He put his hands on his hips in an almost feminine manner.

   "As I said, this is a nude beach." He grinned, and it was disarming to
the point that she almost forgot he was naked. "You don't need anything
to
swim here."

   "Oh yes," she said.   "But ...   no ...   I could never do that.   I'd die
of embarrassment."

   "Well, as it turns out, when I found out my only nephew was getting
married, and that he had accepted my offer of Paradise Cove as a
honeymoon
site, I arranged it so that you two are the only ones here." He grinned
again. "Except for me, of course, but I was going to try to stay out of
your way. I know how newlyweds are."

   Julie elbowed her husband, and he made a snuffling sound before he
stared snoring again.

   "Not this honeymooner," she said, some acid in her voice.    "It was
just
getting good when his thing went off and he passed out."

   "His thing?" Bob's eyes twinkled.

   "You know what I mean," she said. "I'm not used to talking about
them.
His ... and yours ... are the only ones I've ever seen!"

   "Well, well," said Bob.    "I had no idea there were any real women left
in the world."

   "Real women?" she asked.

   "Virgins," he said. "Unless, of course, there was a time when you
were
with one, but just didn't see it. Maybe it was too dark?"

   "NO!" she barked.   "I never even touched one until tonight ...
ANYWHERE
on my body!"

   "That's what I mean," he said. "It takes a real woman to save herself
for her special man. Women like you are quite rare these days. I admire
you."

   "Really?" No one had ever admired her for keeping herself pure. In
fact, almost everyone had done everything they could to rob her of that
purity.
   "Really," he said firmly. He looked at her with warm eyes. "Anyway,"
he perked up, "you can feel free to go skinny-dipping any time you like.
You and Roger have the whole resort for the whole week, and there won't
be
anybody around to see you."

   "You're here," she said, as if she were examining his comment
literally.

   "Alas, you are right. OK, how about this. You tell me when you're
going to go down to the beach to exercise that ankle, and I'll make sure
I
know where my binoculars are." He grinned. "That seems fair."

   "You own a nude beach, silly," she chided.   "You probably see
beautiful
naked women every day!"

   "Not on your order, my sweet," he said.   "I haven't seen a woman in a
long time who could compete with you."

   "You're teasing me," she said, half believing it.

   "I'm just being truthful."

   She had been complimented before, many times, and hit on many times as
well. But the way he said it sounded genuine, almost respectful, and not
lustful.

   "You're not just flirting with me, now, are you?" she asked.

   "That would be a singularly rude thing to do to a bride on her wedding
night," said Bob seriously. I suspect you know you're beautiful. All
I'm
doing is agreeing with you. Is that so hard to understand?"

   "I'm sorry," she said instinctively.   "It's just that most men want to
flirt with me."

   "That's because you're beautiful," said Bob. "But then we already
established that. I did tease you about the binoculars, and I shouldn't
even have done that."

   "I don't mind," she said, shocked that she really didn't. "In fact,
you
have my permission to spy on me any time I'm swimming. You did save my
life, you know. That's the least I can do to repay you."

   Bob laughed. "You could have crawled back here, and the phone works
just fine, so you could even have called for an ambulance, though I don't
really think you need one. I can't accept a favor like that just for
making it a little easier for you to get back here."
   Julie was nonplussed. She was attracted to this complete stranger,
and it made her a little nervous. But, she liked this man ... this
honest man, and it affected the way she made decisions. "Well, then, you
can spy on me as repayment for letting us use this beautiful cottage for
our honeymoon."

   Bob bowed, which looked exceedingly odd ... him being naked. "I
gratefully accept your boon, milady. Now, if there's nothing else you
need
..."

   "Do you have to go?" she asked, feeling lonely already.

   "My dear brand new niece, I'm naked, and it's your wedding night.
This
is already highly irregular."

   "My whole wedding night has been ... irregular," she said dryly.    "If
you leave, do you think he'll wake up and take care of me?"

   "Well ... no ... I suppose not," said Bob.     He looked around.   He
went
to the bathroom and came out belting a robe on.   "There, that's a little
more proper."

   "I don't suppose your wife would approve, though," said Julie,
thinking
for the first time about other people in Bob's life.

   "Not married," he said shortly. "Used to be, but it didn't work out.
My heart doesn't mend so easily, I guess. I never met another woman I
could settle down with. Being out in the middle of the ocean doesn't
help." He grinned.

   "Surely there are local women you could get interested in," said
Julie.

   "To be sure," He grinned again. "There are hundreds of willing young
... and not-so-young lasses who would be more than happy to take the
reins
of the Paradise Cove and live in the lap of luxury ever afterwards."

   "Gold diggers, huh?" she suggested.

   "Hundreds of them. "I'm a Yank, and while they love all that green
money down here, I'm still an outsider, even after fifteen years."

   "That's too bad," she sighed.   "You're a nice man."

   "That, my dear, is the kiss of death," he said wryly. "At least to a
dating man," he added. He waved a hand. "I don't mind. I have this
beautiful place to live, and I make a pretty good go of it, all things
considered. Every once in a while a woman shows up here who is looking
for
some anonymous fun. I try to accommodate them. That is, after all, my
job. I'm here to make sure the patrons are happy."

   "Well, I'm not happy right now," she sighed.   She blushed.   "But
that's
not your fault. You've been just wonderful."

   "Alas, I can't do anything about a sleeping groom." Bob nodded.

   "He's not sleeping, he's dead drunk," she said unhappily.

   "Well, I fervently hope that tomorrow, when he wakes up, all the
patrons
of Paradise Cove will be happy again," said Bob.

   "But I want to be happy now," pouted Julie.

   Bob frowned. "Dear sweet Julie, I'm honored, but my ... um ...
services, to the women I mentioned ... well ... it wouldn't be right in
this situation."

   Julie's face twisted as she realized what he meant.   Her hands came up
to cover her face.

   "That's not what I meant!" she gasped.   "I'm so sorry.   I didn't mean
to
imply that."

   Now it was Bob who looked uncomfortable.

   "No, I'm the one who should apologize. I should have known that
wasn't
what you meant. You're not that kind of woman. You're a REAL woman, one
of sadly few in the world. Please forgive me, Julie."

   His apology was so heartfelt that her embarrassment fled, to be
replaced
for concern that their budding relationship had suffered.

   "Nonsense," she said softly. "I shouldn't have complained, and
certainly not in a way that could be so easily misunderstood."

   "Are we going to sit here and apologize to each other all night?"
asked
Bob, smiling a little. "Water under the bridge, OK?"

   Julie shifted on the bed, trying to get more comfortable. The ice
pack
fell off her ankle and she instinctively tried to slide it back under the
bag. She felt a twinge in her ankle as she lifted that leg.

   "Oooooo, my ankle really hurts," she said.
   "It will feel much better when it loosens up. Right now the swelling
is
causing trouble. When you work the joint a little that will help the
swelling dissipate, and it will feel better.

   Julie's next thought, to be kind to her, didn't have any sexual
component. She was thinking about what he had said about exercising the
ankle in the ocean, where the water would help support the weight of her
body, and put less pressure on the injured ankle. The idea of being a
hobbling cripple on her honeymoon just naturally led to the idea that she
should start exercising that ankle sooner, rather than later.

   "You could take me swimming now," she suggested.

   The silence she was met with as Bob floated the idea in his mind,
allowed her to look at her suggestion with other eyes. Obviously, if he
took her swimming, she'd either have to soak the only clothing she
currently had ... or go in the nude. His comment about the binoculars
popped into her mind.

   Her hand slapped across her mouth.

   "I have no idea why I said that," she said.   "You must think I'm
terrible!"

   "Not at all," he said calmly. "In fact, that's a pretty good idea.
You
need to work that ankle, but without putting any weight on it. A
midnight
swim might be just the thing to loosen it up." He grinned. "And my
nephew
isn't going to miss you ... that's obvious."

   It may have been his reminder that her new husband had failed her
completely that tipped the balance. The decision was much easier than
she
would have thought possible.

   "I can't wear this into the ocean," she said, pulling at her tank top.
"It's all I have to wear until they find our luggage."

   "If you can live with going skinny-dipping, I can make the sacrifice
to
take you," he teased gently. "I'll try to make my unruly friend behave
himself. I am here, after all, to cater to the needs of my patrons."

   Julie blushed beet red as she made up her mind. She hadn't ever done
anything this wild and crazy, but doing it made her feel both like she
was
gaining some control back over events, and a little naughty. She liked
both feelings.

   "OK, then ...   turn around," she said.
   Bob didn't comment on the fact that he'd be   carrying her to the water,
just like he had carried her from the beach to   the cottage, and that this
time they'd both be naked. Bob didn't comment    on the fact that, in order
to pick her up off the bed, he'd end up seeing   her nakedness. He simply
turned around.

   Of course, as Julie pulled her tank top off, exposing her lush breasts
to her new uncle's back, and then skinned out of her running shorts, she
thought of the same thing, and felt foolish.

   "Do you want me to get you a robe?" he asked, still facing away from
her.

   It was both her feeling of foolishness, and that spark of joy at being
naughty that made her say respond in the way she did.

   "It's warm.   I'm being silly.   You can turn around."

   He did so, and Julie's eyes naturally went to his, looking, like many
women do, to see where his eyes were as he looked at her. She felt a
rush
of both relief, and a niggle of disappointment that his eyes were locked
firmly on her own.

   "Ready?" he asked.

   "Yes," she said, amazed at how calm she felt. She was stark naked in
front of a stranger, who was about to pick her up and carry her naked
body
in his arms. She waited for him to take off his own robe, and was
surprised when he bent to pick her up, still wearing the garment.

   "You're wearing your robe?" she asked.

   "My unruly friend is being unruly again," he explained.    "It seems to
have a mind of its own."

   "Oh," she said, blushing.   Her niggle of disappointment evaporated.
That felt good too.

   "Well, considering the circumstances, I suppose your friend is just
being normal." She bit her lip gently and then went on. "You don't have
to
wear the robe. I promise I won't look."

   There came a guarded look in his eyes, but it passed almost instantly.
He stood, and shrugged the robe off his shoulders. His penis was, in
fact,
rigid and straight. Julie stared directly at it, despite her promise not
to look, and she felt a tingle as her whole body shivered once.

   "Maybe I should put it back on," he suggested.

   Julie looked up at his smiling face.    She felt like a little girl,
suddenly.

   "No, we're both adults.   I can do this," she muttered.

   He bent over and picked her up, again as if she weighed almost
nothing.

   "That, my dear niece, is the problem." He grinned, his face inches
from
hers. She smelled his breath, which was sweet, and suddenly wondered
about
her own. She hadn't used a toothbrush all day long.

   As he carried her across the sand, she couldn't help but think of them
as they were, naked, natural, pressing their flesh against each other.
Her
breast against his chest felt hot, and swollen. He was, for all intents
and purposes, a complete stranger, carrying her, his penis full and
extended as if he were ready to ravish her virgin pussy. And her pussy
seemed to be aware of that too. It was, she realized, wet with arousal.

   He walked into the surf, and out until her weight began to lift from
his
arms. She rolled instinctively, and pressed her full breasts to his face
as her arms went around his head to anchor herself. She felt his hands
on
her waist, stabilizing her, and she relaxed her grip on his head. As her
chest came away from his face he was grinning. He looked genuinely
happy,
rather than lustful.

   "You really are beautiful," he said. "I can't believe my nephew could
think of dulling his senses with drink."

   She pushed some water at his face.

   "Masher," she accused.

   "Kick your legs gently," he said, suddenly all business.

   She kicked, but not very gently, and moaned at the pain as the water
resisted and her ankle complained.

   "Gently!" he admonished her.

   Her arms were still around him, one over his shoulder, and across his
back, and the other under his other arm. That pressed her breasts
directly
against his bare chest, and her nipples scraped his flesh in a way that
sent shivers down her spine. Rather than pulling away, though, she
pulled
him closer. She was beginning to feel the same things she had felt as
Roger stroked her body.
   "This is very naughty," she sighed.

   "I can't argue with you there," he said gently.

   "You make me feel good," she said, looking into his eyes.

   "You make me feel horny," he admitted.

   "You're so honest. I'm still not used to that.    Roger is the only
other
man I think I really trust," said Julie sadly.

   They stared into each other's eyes as she kicked gently.

   "I feel like kissing you," she said.

   "That wouldn't be a good idea," he responded gently. "You're all
worked
up right now, this being your wedding day and all, and ... the way
things
went ... they're affecting your judgement too. I don't want you to do
something you'd be sorry for tomorrow. I may have just met you, but I
like
you, and you're my niece now, and I want you to like me in the future."

   "I DO like you," she said, not understanding her own arousal, and how
it
could seem to be for this man. He had just pointed out that they were
practically strangers.

   "I want you to still like me tomorrow," he said patiently.   "And if I
kiss you, I'm going to want to do a lot more."

   "Oh," she said sadly.    "I guess that's true."

   "You really don't have a lot of experience with me," he pointed out.

   "I've dated," she said defensively.

   "And you've resisted," he said.

   "Yes," she agreed.

   "Then resist now, Julie. This is just the leftovers of your
anticipation of what was supposed to happen tonight, and your
disappointment about how things turned out."

   "I guess you're right," she sighed.    "I still want to kiss you,
though."

   "I'm honored, he said.    "Now, kick a little harder."

   "You're just a beast," she said, her mood lightening.
   "You have no idea," he muttered.

   So she kicked and wiggled and had a great time rubbing her naked body
up
against his. Unconsciously, she tried to twist, so that she could have
full frontal contact with him, and consciously, he prevented her from
doing
that.

   All it did was inflame her more.

   Finally her emotions bubbled over.

   "I can't STAND this!" she moaned.    "I feel so ...   so ...   I don't
know
WHAT I feel!"

   "You feel horny," he said gently.

   "Yes," she moaned in agreement.

   "It's understandable," he said.

   "But what can I DO about it?" she whined.

   "Surely you've ...   um ...   taken care of things yourself before
this,"
he said.

   "Of course I have," she said shortly.    "But that's NOT what I want to
do
right now!"

   "Sweetie, think about this," he warned.

   "I can't think of ANYTHING right now," she said grumpily. "You feel
so
good against my skin. I feel like I'm going to just burst if something
doesn't happen."

   Bob rocked her in his arms for a few seconds.

   "Could you be satisfied with just an orgasm?" he asked softly.

   "I TOLD you I don't want to do that right now," she whimpered.

   "I mean if I gave you one," he said gently.

   "But you said you don't want to do that," she moaned.

   "We don't have to have intercourse for you to have an orgasm," he
said,
just as gently.
   "Oh," she said, feeling foolish again.   "I've never done that either.
I
mean nobody's ever done that ... to me."

   "Good grief, woman," sighed Bob.    "You really are a treasure."

   "Don't tease me!" she almost yelled. "I shouldn't feel like this, but
I
DO, and I don't know what to do about it!"

   "I'm not teasing you, precious," he said, unable to keep himself from
kissing the base of her neck. When he did she arched her whole body,
exposing more throat to him. "What I'm saying is, if I give you an
orgasm,
will that be enough for you?

   "I don't knowwwww," she moaned.    "Yes ...   just do something, please?"
she whined.

   "OK, then," he said.    "Just one orgasm, and then I take you back to
your
husband ... deal?"

   "Please," she moaned.    "I'm going to just die if this feeling doesn't
go
away!"

   He turned her over, prying her arms away from where they gripped him,
until she was facing away from him. He pulled her against his body, and
she felt his hard prick press into her buns. She gasped as his hands
cupped both breasts.

   "Just float," he instructed her.    "I'll do all the work.   You just
float
and let the feeling come."

   His hands scraped across her painfully stiff nipples, and she let her
head flop back onto his shoulder as she groaned. Slowly, his right hand
began to descend, following the contours of her ribs, to her belly
button.
He stroked her abdomen gently and she arched her back, trying to bring
her
pussy up to meet that stroking hand.'

   "Relax!" he ordered.

   "I can't," she moaned.

   In answer his hand dipped almost quickly, his middle finger sliding
between the split of her sex. That finger hooked just enough to give him
purchase, and he pressed the base of his finger to her clit.

   "Ohhhhhhh" she groaned, tensing even more.
   She was so wired that it was over in seconds. He wagged his finger
back
and forth across her distended clitty, and she lifted her legs and spread
them automatically to give him more room. The thing that had been
building
deep inside her, and which threatened to break through her skin suddenly
shattered into fragments of pure joy and flashed throughout her body. It
wasn't like any orgasm she'd ever had. It was stronger - much stronger,
and she suddenly felt like she was floating among the stars. She heard
the
animal sounds her throat was making ... felt the vibrations in her vocal
chords, but it sounded like it was coming from far away. Her body jerked
in time with his strumming finger, first quickly, and then in a more
measured way, with small pauses between each jerk. He seemed to know
exactly when to lessen the pressure on her tortured clit, and his hand
slowly slid out of her sexual basket. She felt an unutterable sense of
loss as the stimulation vanished, and then a warm glow as her tense
muscles
began to relax. His hands rested gently on her waist, holding her up as
her neck relaxed, and she began to slide downwards into the water.

   They said nothing as he turned her back around and cradled her in his
arms once more. He strode toward the softly breaking surf and she rested
her head against his shoulder, breathing more regularly now. Roger was
still snoring on the bed, one leg slightly cocked. Julie looked down at
him, and at his penis. She felt some shame, but it was only related to
comparing him to Bob. Bob's penis looked like a real man's organ to her,
while her husbands was limp and lumpy.

   But she felt no shame for what had happened in the water. That
puzzled
her a little, but she was relaxed, now, and drowsy. He laid her across
the
foot of the bed, and disappeared into the bathroom, coming back with two
fluffy towels. She lay, unresisting as he rubbed her dry and then rolled
her over to do her back. He slapped her buttock gently when he was done.

   "Go to bed," he said softly.   "Tomorrow will be a whole new day."

   "Tuck me in," she said, her voice like that of a little girl.

   She stood, her injured ankle held off the floor, just long enough to
pull the sheet down and tumble onto the bed. He covered her and kissed
her
forehead.

   "I like having a niece," he said softly.   "If you need anything, just
pick up the phone and dial zero."

   "Could you arrange some breakfast in the morning?" she asked.   "I
won't
be able to get up and cook."

   "I'll see what I can do," he said.   "I'll give you time to wake up and
...   um ...   consummate the marriage.   How's that?"

   Julie was surprised to feel ... nothing. The excitement of Roger
taking her virginity had faded, and now she almost thought of that as
something that was supposed to happen when one got married.

   "OK," she said simply.    "I'll call you."

   Then he was   gone, leaving Julie to ponder her day, and what had just
happened. She    felt blissfully relaxed. As she drifted off to sleep on
her
wedding night,   her last thoughts were about what his fingers had felt
like,
pressed to her   sex.   She smiled as consciousness faded away.

   CHAPTER THREE

   The message light was flashing on his phone when Bob got back to his
quarters. He ignored it. The first thing he did was stroke his aching
prick. It didn't take long - only slightly longer than it had taken for
him to bring her off. In his mind was the vision of her lying on the
bed,
naked, her bare pussy lips dark and still engorged from what he had done
with his fingers. He snatched up a wash cloth and caught his spend as it
eased the pain in his balls. She was some woman.

   Relaxed now, for the first time since he had heard her cries for help
on
the beach, he looked at the phone. It was late. Whatever that was about
would wait.

   He collapsed onto the bed, and then rolled over, setting his alarm for
the first time since he could remember. He wanted to make breakfast
special for that special woman.

   His last thoughts, before sleep claimed his brain for the night, were
of
having a brand new niece ... a naked, lovely niece ... and of what he
would dearly wish to do with her. His lips curled into a smile as his
consciousness faded into black.

   ========================================

   When Julie woke, the sun was fully up. She stretched, feeling the
pain
in her ankle immediately. It wasn't so bad now, though. Then she
realized
her bladder was full, and she began to think of how she would get to the
bathroom to take care of that. She also felt sticky, probably from the
salt water last night.

   Her mind approached that memory carefully, like a voyeur, peeking in
on
what she remembered ... the feel of his hands ... of his chest against
hers. One hand came up languidly and stroked a naked breast. Her
nipples
were soft now, but the one she stroked enlarged almost instantly. She
took
her hand away, aware that she was reawakening feelings that she wasn't
ready to deal with just then.

   She thought of the man sleeping next to her then, for the first time
that morning, and felt guilty. She turned her head to see Roger, mouth
open, still snoring softly. His breath stank of stale alcohol and
morning
breath. A twinge of disappointment wafted across her mind.

   Her bladder called again.

   She threw the sheet back and sat up. It was a glorious morning. She
tried hopping at first, but that didn't work well and she sank to her
hands
and knees, keeping the toes of the injured foot off the floor. She felt
silly crawling to the bathroom, but the insistence of her bladder kept
her
going.

   She let out a sigh of relief as her bladder emptied, and looked
around.
Her hair was a mess. It was stiff with salt, and matted, mostly dry
across
her shoulders and back. She looked at the shower, and then at the
Jacuzzi.
Crawling to the second, she ran water until it looked deep enough to
support and cover her. She eased down into the hot water and fiddled
with
the controls until air bubbles suddenly jetted against her hips and back.
She scooted down until her head was under water, and raised it slowly,
trying to get her hair to loosen and flow. Then she put her head in the
pillowed area of the tub and relaxed, letting the bubbles wash over her.

   ========================================

   Bob woke to the unfamiliar buzzing of the alarm, and he instantly
remembered why he had avoided using it for years. He slapped at it, and
sat up. The sun was just breaking the surface of the sea, and he
stretched.

   He hopped out of bed and ducked into the shower to wash the salt off
his
body. Then he went to the resort kitchen and started rummaging through
the
pantry. He had become used to the routine Bahamian diet, that included
fish, Conch and various other seafood, usually mixed with the ubiquitous
peas and sundry other vegetables, but he didn't want to foist native food
on his two important guests. Tourism had brought with it American
cuisine,
and, though his usual cook was off for the week, the larder was still
stocked with everything to suit almost any taste.

   He settled for whipping up a quiche, with sliced tomatoes, and a side
of
macaroni and cheese. The thing that had most surprised him when he
settled
on the island was the almost constant offering of macaroni and cheese in
every place he ate. He sliced some smoked ham and put it on a low
griddle,
and then put together an assortment of cereal and fruit. It wasn't until
he got splattered by hot grease that he realized he was naked. He often
went that way these days. People who booked rooms in Paradise Cove were
carefully notified that clothing was not only optional, but rare, and he
often went around in little or nothing on a routine day.

   He ducked out of the kitchen to put on some shorts, and while there,
saw
the light on the phone blinking steadily at him again. He had time.
Everything was on slow cook in the kitchen. He picked up the phone and
punched the button that would deliver the message. It was his sister,
and
she sounded worried.

   "Call me as soon as you get this," came her voice.   "We have a real
problem."

   That was it. Nothing more. Initially, he feared that Julie had
called
someone to complain about what had happened last night. Not about a
drunken groom ... but about what Bob had done to her in the ocean. Then
he shook his head. The light had already been blinking when he walked
into
his quarters. She had been happy and sleepy when he left her. He
reflected briefly on how hard it had been to leave her, and grinned. No,
it couldn't be that. Maybe they had found the missing luggage, and
called
Roger's mother. That would be odd, but maybe the number on the luggage
tag
was an old one or something. Bob had stayed in touch with his sister,
but
only infrequently, and she hadn't really told him all that much about
what
Roger was up to. It had been her idea for the honeymoon booking, and Bob
had been only too happy to comply. His expenses were low, and taking a
week off from the grind of making people happy appealed to him too.

   He needed to get back to the kitchen. Still, she wouldn't have been
that short unless it was a real problem ... at least in her opinion. He
decided to go turn down the heat. He could keep things warm for a couple
of hours. They should be up and finished by then, with the first thing
that would be on their minds when they woke up.

   He left for the kitchen to make the needed adjustments, and left the
phone message blinking.
   The quiche had   overcooked, and he muttered to himself as he set about
replacing it. By    the time he got things situated the way he wanted them,
and put the fruit   back in the refrigerator, almost an hour had passed.
Wiping his hands,   he left to go call his sister.

   ========================================

   She didn't know how long she had been soaking when Roger stumbled into
the bathroom and stood, weaving slightly with his morning woody in his
hand. He missed the stool at first, and then corrected as she frowned.
His
urine splashed into the commode and he yawned, wincing. One hand came up
to his head and he groaned. He seemed to notice the sound of the Jacuzzi
for the first time, and swiveled his head.

   "My head is killing me," he groaned.    "What happened?"

   "We got married and you drank yourself into oblivion," she answered,
her
voice measured.

   "Oh ...   sorry," he said lamely.

   "Brush your teeth," she said, her voice short.

   "Yeah," he said, wincing again.

   Instead of brushing his teeth, though, he went and pulled the mirror
open, looking for something for the pain in his head. There was nothing
there. He picked up the complimentary toothpaste and looked around for a
toothbrush. Not finding anything, he turned abruptly and went back into
the other room.

   "Where's our luggage?" came his plaintive voice softly.

   "It got lost," yelled Julie, feeling grumpy again.

   "Lost?" he said, coming back into the bathroom.

   "On the flight down here," she said impatiently.

   He looked around.    "Oh yeah, we're in the Bahamas."

   He got a lot more alert, and looked at his new bride.

   "What happened ...    last night?" he asked.

   Julie felt anger tightening up her relaxed body, and that made her
needle him. "You don't remember?"

   "Sure I do," he bluffed, as men try to do so often.     "I remember you
making me feel really good."
   "Well, that's what happened." Julie sulked.

   "Look, baby," he pleaded, wincing again.    "I just celebrated a little
too much. I'll make it up to you."

   "How?" she asked, acidly.   "You passed out on my wedding night!"

   "Hey," he moaned. "We have the whole week. Let me find something to
make this splitting headache go away and I'll be good as new. Then I can
treat you to some real loving." He had moved to the edge of the tub, and
bent down. "Give me a little kiss, Mrs. Crandall. That will help, I'm
sure."

   He was trying to be gallant, or at least complimentary, and Julie
realized that. But as his face neared hers she smelled the stale alcohol
and turned her head.

   "Go brush your teeth.    Your breath would kill at twenty paces."

   He stood back up and put both hands to his head.

   "Please, not so loud," he whined.   He looked around again.   "I can't
find my toothbrush."

   "Pick up the phone and dial zero," said Julie.   "Tell whoever answers
you need a toothbrush."

   Julie thought about what she'd just said. She knew quite well who
would
answer that phone, but she hadn't told Roger that she'd met his uncle.
She
felt a little like she was sneaking around behind his back, and then
pushed
that guilt away. If he'd have acted like a real husband yesterday, she'd
never have met Bob at all, and would be lying, freshly deflowered, in her
honeymoon bed.

   "Yeah, OK," he said.    He turned around and left the bathroom.

   She heard his voice talking, and reached for the little bottle of
shampoo sitting huddled with other little bottles on one corner of the
Jacuzzi. It took the whole bottle, but she got her hair sudsy enough to
feel like it would be clean when she rinsed it out.

   "Ask for a comb or a brush too," she yelled through the open door.

   =========================================

   Bob walked into his quarters as the phone began ringing. Cursing
himself for not forwarding calls to the kitchen, and fearing that she had
been trying to call him repeatedly, he jumped to the phone and picked it
up.

   "This is Bob," he said automatically.
   "Uncle Bob?" came a male voice.

   "Roger," he said.   He almost added "welcome back to the living," but
decided not to.

   "Yeah ... hi," came a voice that was too soft to be normal. Bob
envisioned Roger holding the phone away from his ear. Bob had suffered
his
own fair share of hangovers in his youth, and phone voices seemed to cut
straight into the pain centers of the brain during a hangover. He
grinned.
Served the boy right. "Hey, um ... I guess they lost our luggage. Have
you maybe got a toothbrush I could borrow?"

   "Sure thing, sport," said Bob, softening his voice. "Welcome to the
Islands. I have breakfast on the stove for you and your bride."

   "Yeah, that's great," said Roger.   It was obvious that the thought of
food right now didn't appeal to him.   "You got anything for a headache?"
he
asked.

   "I'm sure I can come up with something." Bob again decided not to
needle
the boy. "You coming down with something?"

   "No, I'm OK.   I just celebrated a little too much," said Roger softly.

   "I'll whip up a batch of Uncle Bob's patented hangover juice," said
Bob.
How's that?"

   "That would be great," came the relieved sigh of his nephew.

   Bob heard Julie's voice over the phone and grinned.   If he could hear
it
that clearly, it must be torturing Roger.

   "Julie needs a comb or a brush too," moaned Roger.

   "I'll throw everything together and be down ... when do you want me
to
come down?" asked Bob. "I don't want to ... interrupt anything." He
grinned again.

   Roger laughed weakly. "Yeah ... right. Just give us half an hour or
so ... OK?" he said. "She's crawling all over me right now." He laughed
again, weakly, and Bob almost snorted. Roger couldn't perform right now
if
his life depended on it.

   "Be there in forty-five minutes," said Bob.
   He hung up the phone, and saw the light blinking at him. He'd better
call Susan first. If he didn't she'd bitch at him for taking too long.
He
picked up the phone and flipped through the book to find her number. He
felt slightly guilty for not knowing her number by heart, but he only
called her every other month or so.

   The phone was picked up before the first ring was even done.

   "BOB!?" came Susan's anguished cry.

   "What's wrong, honey?   he asked, concerned now.   She sounded
positively
distraught.

   "HE'S MARRIED BOB!" she shouted.

   "Of course he's married, Susan," Bob sighed. If all this was about
her
baby going off and growing up, Bob was going to be pissed.

   "NO ...   BOB?" She was still shouting.

   "Yes, I'm here.   Calm down Susan.   You don't need to shout."

   "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" Susan shouted. Then her voice lowered, almost
as if she was sharing a confidence, and was afraid someone would overhear
her doing it.

   "He was ALREADY married, Bob. His wife showed up yesterday. She's
English ... or British ... or whatever you call them. She has two
CHILDREN with her Bob!"

   "What?" asked Bob, his mouth slack.

   "We didn't KNOW, Bob," she wailed. "He never TOLD us he got married
in
London. He has a whole damned FAMILY over there, Bob!"

   "Wow!" Bob was stunned.   He was completely unprepared for anything
like
this. "She came there?"

   "YES!" shouted Susan. Again, her voice dropped. "She showed up here
last evening, saying she wanted to surprise him. It's their fucking
ANNIVERSARY, Bob ... their fourth fucking WEDDING ANNIVERSARY!"

   "You're kidding me," gasped Bob.     "He got married again on his wedding
anniversary?"

   "What are we gonna DO, Bob?" she cried. Her shaking voice broke into
sobs. "We couldn't tell her what happened, but she got suspicious. She
demanded to know where he was. Fucking Phillip started drinking when she
showed up and he got smashed and blurted out the whole sordid story!"
   Phillip was Susan's husband. Bob had met him only once, and hadn't
been
all that impressed. He'd chalked it up to no man being good enough for
another man's sister. He found himself smiling that his judgement had
been
sound. He wiped the smile off his face.

   "What did she do?" he asked.

   "SHE'S ON HER WAY DOWN THERE RIGHT NOW!" screamed Susan.

   "You're kidding!" said Bob.

   "NO!" moaned Susan. "She left the children here. Oh, Bob, they're
lovely children. A boy, three, and a girl who's only two. I have
GRANDCHILDREN, Bob!"

   Susan was clearly so distraught that she didn't know what to do.

   "OK, take it easy.   I'll go down to the cottage and do something.
When
did she leave?"

   "She's on the redeye," said Susan, getting control of her voice.
"She's
a tough one, Bob. She ran Phillip through the ringer. She practically
ripped the information from him. She threatened to sue us and murder
Roger
and everything!"

   She was starting to get worked up again.

   "Calm down.f I'll take care of things here. She can't get a gun onto
the island. They're very strict about that down here. I'll make a
couple
of calls. The cabbies here all know me. I'll figure something out."

   "Call me back, Bob. My baby is down there about to be murdered by his
fucking wife ... while he's probably fucking his ... other wife!" Susan
burst into tears again.

   Bob muttered a promise to call her back and then finally just hung up
the phone.

   What a fucking mess THIS was! He almost laughed, but got a grip. The
first thing to do was delay this woman ... he didn't even know her name!
... to delay her from getting to the resort as long as possible. He
called a friend of his who was the dispatcher for a cab company. He
didn't
pull any punches, and explained exactly what was happening. The
dispatcher
laughed, and said he'd cover the bases with the other cab companies.
Anyone asking for Paradise cove would get the scenic tour before she
arrived there.

   That done, Bob thought about what to do next. His first thoughts were
for Julie. The poor girl had had enough trouble for any marriage
already.
This would crush her.

   Then, with an electric jerk, he realized that Roger might be trying to
pursue his husbandly "duty" right this instant! And Julie, as anxious as
she was last night, might submit to him, out of guilt, if nothing else.

   =========================================

   Julie sighed. The water was getting cool. She lay back in the tub
and
shook her head from side to side gently to get the soap out of her hair.
She let her face go under the water and blew bubbles as she continued
agitating her hair. Carefully, she drew her face up, letting the water
draw her hair down the middle of her back. She winced as she
automatically
tried to stand up and her ankle complained.

   She thought about calling to Roger for help, but was still feeling
miffed, and levered herself out of the tub to sit on the edge. She
reached
for towels and dried herself off, letting her hair swing forward to make
a
thick blue-black line between her breasts. It covered her bald pussy and
she patted it as dry as she could get it with more towels. She put on a
robe, again intentionally, and hopped to the door, steadying herself with
a
hand on the wall.

   She refused to crawl in front of Roger, so she planned her route, and
hopped quickly to the bed, falling heavily beside Roger, who was sitting
on
the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

   He looked up, possibly thinking she had run to the bed and jumped on
it
excitedly. Her bare legs stuck out of the bottom of the robe, and there
was a flicker of interest in his brain, until he saw the dark purplish
color around her ankle.

   "What happened to you?" he asked, wincing.

   "I went for a run on the beach last night ... after you passed out,"
she said conversationally. "I turned my ankle. I can't put any weight
on
it."

   He looked at her in horror.

   "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry.   This is all my fault," he moaned.
   "Yes ...   it is," she agreed with him.

   "Are you OK?   How'd you get back here?" he asked.

   Julie thought about telling him, but the perverse streak in her caused
her not to.

   "I managed," she said simply.

   "But this is going to ruin our honeymoon!" he sulked.

   The hard little knot of anger in Julie's belly grew, and heated up.
If
he planned on blaming all this on her, he had better change his plans.
She
was about to unload on him when the phone rang, jarring the silence.

   Roger covered both ears and moaned.

   Julie rolled over and the robe flipped up to expose her naked butt.
She
reached for the phone, which pulled the tie at the front of the robe,
stretching the front open until most of her breasts showed.

   "Hello?" she answered.

   "Julie, it's Bob," came the terse voice on the phone.

   "Oh!" she said brightly.     "You must be my new Uncle Bob!" she gushed.'

   "You didn't tell him we met?" asked Bob.

   "No ...    we're fine ...   breakfast?   That sounds wonderful." she said
smoothly.

   "I DO have breakfast," said Bob, "but there's been a ... development.
I
need to talk to you both, and it needs to be immediately. You're not ...
busy ... are you?" His voice sounded anxious.

   "No, we're not doing anything," she said.

   About then Roger uncovered his ears, saw her bare buttocks, and put a
hand on one, squeezing it. Julie reached around and batted his hand
away,
but didn't cover her behind.

   "Stop that!" she hissed.     "I'm on the phone with your uncle!"

   "Tell him to give us another half hour," said Roger, becoming
interested
despite the pounding in his head. He tried to slide a hand up between
her
legs and she batted at it again, closing her legs firmly.

   "I'm starving," she said into the phone. "We'd like breakfast right
away ... yes ... thank you so much. I can't WAIT to meet you. See you
soon."

   She hung up the phone and rolled over, exposing her breasts to her
husband.

   "Can't you behave?" she asked.

   Roger stared at her breasts, licking his lips.

   "But it's our honeymoon!" he moaned. "Come on, baby, I want to start
making it up to you. Breakfast can wait."

   "He's already on his way," she said firmly. Now, he's going to come
in
that door any minute. Do you want him to see me like this? Oh yes, I
forgot ... our luggage got LOST on the flight down here! Oh well,
didn't
you say it's a nude beach? I'm sure he's seen lots of naked women around
here. Go get the door, honey. His hands will probably be full."

   She said all that in a sweet, light voice, but her meaning was crystal
clear. She wasn't in the mood. If he was lucky she might be in the mood
tomorrow.

   "Don't be that way, darling," he tried to say smoothly. "It wasn't my
fault that the luggage got lost. That happens all the time. And no, I
don't want him to see you like that, nude beach or not. You're MY wife,
and I want you to save that for me."

   "Oh, you're just being a silly jealous man," giggled Julie, as if his
whole speech was some attempt at humor. "We're going to go swimming in
the
ocean, aren't we? I'll be naked then. I don't even have a swimming
suit,
darling. Loosen up. It's not like he's going to make love to me or
anything. In fact," her voice got suddenly harsh, "NOBODY HAS MADE LOVE
TO
ME SINCE I GOT MARRIED!"

   Roger covered his ears again as she shouted, and moaned. He was about
to plead with her again when there was a very firm knock on the door.

   Roger lurched to his feet, almost glad there was an interruption.    He
thought about telling her to cover up one last time, but decided she
would
anyway. She was a very modest woman.

   He opened the door to see a man he vaguely remembered from seeing
years
back.
   "Uncle Bob?" he said.

   "One and the same," said Bob jovially. "I have extra strength
aspirin,
and something that will probably help even more than that."

   Roger stood aside and turned as Bob walked past him. He gasped as he
saw Julie, who had not covered up anything at all, and was lying loosely
on
the bed, the robe barely covering her pussy, both breasts completely
exposed.

   She sat up and put a surprised look on her face.

   "Oh my!" she said.   "I didn't expect you so soon.   Pardon me!"

   She let her hands drift slowly to the edges of the robe, and, just as
slowly, dragged the cloth just far enough to cover her nipples. Her
impressive cleavage still shone between the edges of the robe.

   "You'll have to pardon me," she said brightly. "I injured my ankle
last
night and can't get up. I bet I can sit up, though."

   She threw her feet toward the edge of the bed and sat up suddenly,
which
somehow managed to uncover her breasts again, and fall away from her
thighs
to show her bald pussy to one and all.

   "Goodness me!" she yipped, putting one hand up to her mouth. "You
must
think I'm a hussy of the worst type!" She wiggled to the edge of the bed,
which only exposed her hips completely and threatened to drag the robe
completely off her shoulders. She snatched at the cloth and, again,
slowly
rearranged it to cover most of her upper body. Bob almost sighed as she
draped the cloth to cover her pussy.

   "But then, Roger tells me this is a nude resort, so you probably see
this sort of thing all the time," she said brightly.

   Roger just stood, frozen by the whole tableau.

   Bob, now facing Julie, with Roger behind him, winked and smiled.

   "All the time Mrs.   Crandall ...   all the time."

   "Oh, you don't need to be so formal with me," she cooed.    "After all,
we're related now. I insist you call me Julie."

   "Julie it is," said Bob, as he took the tray to the kitchen table and
set it down there. He turned with a glass in his hand, containing
something thick, with red and green chunks of in it. He extended the
glass
to Roger. "Best hangover cure known to man," he said, holding the glass
aloft when Roger ignored him.

   "Look, Julie," said Roger, coming unfrozen. "I know you're mad, but
you
don't have to act like that!" He took a breath to say something else and
Bob suddenly decided how he would break the news.

   "Who is Emily, Roger?" he asked suddenly.

   Roger did a double take.

   "What?" he gasped.

   "Drink this," ordered Bob, putting the glass in Roger's hand. "You're
going to need it very badly. Emily is on her way here as we speak."

   "You're fucking SHITTING ME!" screeched Roger, wincing as he spoke.

   "Who is Emily?" asked Julie, confused now. She had been playing her
little game with Bob, punishing Roger, but now something else was going
on,
and she had no idea what that was.

   "I am not fucking shitting you," said Bob calmly. "Your mother
called.
It seems Emily appeared back home and wanted to see you. Something about
a
special day?"

   Bob had thought to break things gently ... maybe to get them apart
somehow ... but, as he walked to the cottage, the more he thought about
it, the more he was convinced there was no easy way to break this to
Julie.
He didn't care about Roger. Nephew or not, Roger was toast, as far as
Bob
was concerned. If it were all true, anyway. He couldn't think of any
reason some woman would claim to be the mother of Roger's children, and
married to him, if it didn't have at least SOME basis in truth. Now, he
planned on making Roger explain all this. If he denied it, then Bob
would
let things play out. He knew the law on the island, and he'd get them
involved. If this Emily person was lying, then things would get handled
that way. If not, then Roger was on his own. Bob was only worried about
Julie.

   Roger was looking around like he expected Emily to walk into the room
any second.

   "Roger?" came the dangerously tense voice of the only woman in the
room.
   "I can explain," said Roger, still darting looks here and there. He
looked hunted, his hair still tousled, his face still showing the effects
of too much drink. "She's nobody ... a woman I met in London ..." He
trailed off, looking decidedly guilty, at least to Bob

   "ROGER CRANDALL WHAT IS GOING ON!?" shouted Julie. She tried to
stand,
and fell back immediately. Her robe parted, but she made no attempt of
any
kind to cover her body again. She moaned at the pain in her ankle.

   Roger covered one ear with one hand, and almost dumped the hangover
remedy on the other side of his head. He gulped at the glass
convulsively
once he realized it was in his hand. Right now, what he needed was a
clear
head, and he hoped that clear head was in the glass.

   Bob had used a little more chopped jalapeno pepper in the concoction
than he usually did. In fact, he had used a LOT more. Mixed with the
tomato juice, it had a delayed effect ... enough delay for Roger to
drain
half the glass before the first heat hit his mouth.

   With a cry of agony, Roger doubled over, dropping the glass to the
floor. His hands went to his face and he howled, which caused his
overtaxed
pain center to explode. He sank to his knees, his eyes watering, and his
stomach contents came rumbling back up his tortured throat, some of it
exiting through his nose.

   The pain was indescribable. His whole body felt like it was on fire,
and he groveled in his own vomit as his senses were overwhelmed to the
point that, eventually, he rolled to his side and lost consciousness.

   "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" screamed Julie, looking at Bob with horror on her
face.

   "I may have used a little too much jalapeno pepper," said Bob, looking
at his nephew with disgust on his face.

   "YOU KILLED HIM!" shouted Julie.

   "No, I didn't, but you may wish I had before this is all over," said
Bob
tiredly. "He's fine. The pepper and the hangover just overtaxed his
brain. He'll wake up in a bit, and, believe it or not, when the burning
dies down, he'll feel almost human."

   Julie was looking at him, her mouth open, horror still on her face.

   "Why did you do that?" she asked, getting control of her voice back.

   "Julie, honey," said Bob, taking a step toward her.   She shrank back
from him, scooting back up onto the bed, oblivious now of the pain in her
ankle. Her hands clutched at the edges of the robe, covering herself
from
him in fear.

   Bob stepped back and held up both hands, palms out toward her.

   "Take it easy," he said.   "I'm not going to hurt you.    I'm trying to
HELP you."

   "You call murdering my husband trying to HELP?!" she squawked.

   "I told you he'll be fine. He's going to need to be fine.       His other
wife is coming here to confront him."

   Bob winced. He hadn't meant for it to come out quite that way. Her
fear of him had wrenched at his gut so strongly that he blurted out what
he
had meant to try to break to her gently.

   "Other wife?" Her voice was tiny ...   suddenly afraid.    "What other
wife?"

   "It seems as though he was already married ... when he married you,"
said Bob gently. "Nobody knew. His mother called me. This Emily woman
showed up with her children, claiming to be Roger's wife from England."

   "Children?" she whined, interrupting him.   "He has children?" Her face
twisted, and her eyes scrunched.

   "We don't know it's true," said Bob, feeling lame.

   Her eyes went round, and she sat back up, as ramrod straight as she
could with her legs extended in front of her on the bed.

   "It's NOT true!" she almost yelled.    "That woman is LYING!"

   "We hope so, baby," said Bob, wincing again at the familiar term of
address. She didn't need that now. "We'll get it all worked out. I was
just kind of angry ... thinking that he might have taken advantage of
you
... and I sort of overdosed his concoction."

   "She's coming here?" asked Julie, now looking around like Roger had
looked around, as if she expected the woman to step into the room at any
second. "I don't have anything to wear," she whined.

   "Where are your clothes from yesterday?" asked Bob.

   "But they SMELL!" she moaned.

   "OK, then, put on your running outfit," said Bob patiently.      She was
in
no condition to argue with.
   "It's over there," she pointed to where she had dropped the clothing
the
night before, when he had stripped naked in front of a strange man.

   Bob reached for the shorts and tank top and handed them to her.   She
sat, with them in her lap, looking lost and confused.

   "He's married? With children?" Tears started leaking from her eyes,
and
she let them roll down her cheeks. "He married me when he was already
married?"

   Before she could start bawling, Bob snatched the shirt from her lap.
He
pushed the robe down off her shoulders, and pulled her arms out of it,
leaving her completely naked in front of him. She seemed not to notice.
He manhandled the shirt on her, tugging at it when she didn't, and then
pushed her gently back until she lay on her back. As gently as he could,
he lifted the injured foot and slipped the shorts over it. Then, moving
to
the other leg he worked that foot into the shorts too. In the process,
her
knees sagged open, and her pussy was exposed to his eyes. He tore his
eyes
away from there, and tried to get her to help him get the shorts up. She
lay there crying, ding nothing. Finally he grasped her knees in iron
fists
and dragged her toward him.

   "Owwwww" she wailed.

   "Help me!" he grunted.

   Finally her hands came up and she pulled as he lifted her legs up into
the air. That got the shorts to her hips. He tried to lift her butt up
off the bed by lifting her thighs, but she went limp. Finally, in
exasperation, he rolled her on er side and smacked her left buttock hard.

   "OWWWW!" she wailed, kicking at him with her left leg.

   "Pull yourself together!" he snapped.   "At least get dressed."

   Her hair had covered her face, and she pushed it back behind her,
looking at him with tear-filled, injured eyes.

   "I don't think I like you any more," she said.

   "You can not like me when you're dressed," he scolded.   "You want that
woman to see you like this?"

   That got her interest. She might have been hit below the belt, and
she
might be on the ropes emotionally, but she reacted to the thought of
another woman ... a strange woman ... a woman who also claimed to be
married to Roger ... seeing her as a wreck.

   She batted at his helping hands and wiggled into the shorts.    Then she
reached for him.

   "Help me up." she said.    She was still sniffling, but had regained her
composure a little bit.

   "What are you going to do?" asked Bob.

   "I'm going to sit in that chair over there if you'll help me off this
damned bed," she snarled.

   "That's my girl," said Bob, ignoring her acid remark.

   "Oh shut up," she growled.

   He helped her to the chair, and she settled into it.

   "May I have a tissue, please?" she asked, more or less calmly.

   He got one and handed it to her.

   "And would you please kick the man lying there on the floor?" she
asked,
just as calmly. "Hard please," she added.

   "Now, now, we don't need that," he chided.

   "Yes ... we do," she said, just as calmly.     "My ankle is hurt, and I
can't kick him myself."

   "How about we just wait until he wakes up, and let him explain ...    if
he can," suggested Bob.

   "If he has another wife ... and babies ... I don't want to listen to
anything he says," she said. Her voice was still calm ... too calm.

   Bob got down and looked into her face. Tears were still falling in
long
lines down her cheeks. She had wiped her nose with the tissue, and still
held it loosely in her hand. He plucked it out of her hand.

   "Julie, honey, I know this is hard for you. I know you're hurt. But
hold on. I can't promise you this will all work out, but bad things
happen
in life, and life can go on despite those bad things. Don't give up on
me
Julie. Please ... don't give up."

   Her eyes strayed to his.

   "You're such a nice man," she said.    "You were nice to me last night.
You could have had anything you wanted from me last night, but you just
took care of me."

   Bob felt some guilt, but shoved it back.   "You're a sweet girl, Julie.
You deserve to be taken care of."

   "I'm not a girl," she said, her voice a little stronger.     "I'm
twenty-two years old. I'm a woman, thank you."

   He grinned.    "That's my girl," he said softly.

   Her eyes cleared, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her
lips.

   "What am I going to do?" she asked, suddenly helpless. "If it's all
true ... I can't go back to work. I can't face all those people. My
mother will die with laughter! I'll never be able to live this down!"

   "Hey," said Bob gently. "You have plenty of time to think about all
that. We really don't know if it's true or not. Not yet. We'll get
that
all sorted out and then you can decide what to do. If it's all a big
mistake, you won't have to do anything. You'll still be married, and you
can live a happy life."

   "But what if it IS true," she pleaded.   "Where will I go?   What will I
do?"

   "You don't have to go anywhere," said Bob. You're booked here for the
week, and you can stay longer than that if you want. I can talk to the
authorities. They'll let you stay for as long as you need to figure out
your next step."

   Her eyes welled up again. "You're SO nice!" she said. Her eyes
cleared. "But you were naughty last night ... with me. You're naughty
AND
nice! I bet Santa Claus doesn't know which list to put you on!"

   Her inane remark was really just a defense mechanism, and it worked.
She started giggling, and then laughing. She laughed harder and harder
until she couldn't get her breath and started to fall off the chair. Bob
held her shoulders, grinning in that way that people grin when others are
laughing their asses off, even if they don't think what was said was all
that funny. He recognized what was happening, and just let her get it
out
of her system.

   CHAPTER FOUR

   Bob, for lack of anything else to do, while Julie got herself under
control, went to the food he had prepared. It would be a shame for it to
go to waste, and Bob hadn't eaten yet anyway. He sat down and began to
eat.
   Julie's giggles had tapered off, and she had been silent for a few
minutes.

   "Men!" she snorted finally.    "All they think about is eating and sex."

   "Not necessarily in that order," commented Bob between bites.   "You
should eat something."

   "I'm not hungry," she said.

   "You should eat something," he repeated.

   "And then I suppose I should have sex," she said dryly.

   "Might make you feel better." He grinned, but it faded when she didn't
smile back.

   He had said enough.   He continued to eat.

   "What is that?" she asked.

   "Quiche," he answered.    "I made it myself."

   "You cook?" she asked.

   He shot her a look.   "I run a resort," he reminded her.

   "Yeah," she sighed.   "You don't have much to do this week, thanks to
us."

   He put down the fork.    "I have all the customers I want this week."

   He got a tiny smile that time.    "You're sweet."

   "I'm awesome," he countered.

   "Men!" she snorted again.

   He ate in silence for a while, switching to fruit.

   "It does smell good," she admitted.

   He got up and went behind her. She yelped as he picked her up, chair
and all, and moved her to the table. Then he served her her portions,
putting a napkin on her lap for her. He asked if she wanted coffee, and
when she shook her head he served her juice instead.

   Her first bite reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything since the
previous afternoon, and she was suddenly ravenous. She found herself
eating pieces of fruit with both hands, and looked up to find Bob staring
at her, open-mouthed.

   "I said you need to eat something ...    not pig out." He smiled.
   "I'm starving," she said defensively.

   He rolled his eyes. He didn't have to remind her that she had just
said
she wasn't hungry only moments before.

   They ate in a surprisingly comfortable silence for a while.

   When he finished, Bob sat back and just looked at her.

   "I'm sorry," he said.

   "What for?" she mumbled around a bite of quiche.

   "You deserved better than this," he said softly.

   "This is wonderful!" she said, stuffing another forkful in her mouth.

   "OK, be that way," he said.

   It was another two minutes of silence before she said: "Thank you."

   ===================================

   "I ate too much," groaned Julie, leaning back in her chair.

   "I agree," said Bob.    "But I have to admit, that for a pig, you're a
pretty little pig."

   She stuck out her tongue at him.

   "What do you want to do now?" he asked.

   "I have no earthly idea," she admitted, looking forlorn. She wiped
her
eyes with her fists suddenly as her eyes filled up with tears.

   "You want me to move you to another cottage?" he asked.    "To get you
away from the memories?"

   "What memories," she snorted.    "Nothing ever actually happened here."

   Bob let it lie.

   "You want to go for a boat ride?" he suggested.

   "No," she said.   "Maybe later."

   "How bout a swim?" he went on.     "You need to work off one of those
meals
you just ate."

   She arched her brow at him.   "You're just trying to get me naked
again,
aren't you."

   He just grinned. "You do need to work that ankle." He put what was
supposed to be a look of genuine concern on his face. "I could keep my
eyes closed, if that would make you feel better."

   She snorted again.    "It's not your eyes I'm worried about," she said.

   "I've got a bathing suit around here someplace," he said calmly. "It
might take me a while to find it, but I'd wear it if it made you feel
more
comfortable."

   The stern lines on her face melted, and her eyes got softer.    "I'm
sorry," she said. "I know I'm acting like a bitch."

   "I think you're acting perfectly normal, under the circumstances." he
said. Taking a chance, he added: "Though, since we're confessing things
to
each other, I admit I was trying to get you naked again."

   He got a real smile this time.

   "You'd take advantage of a poor girl on the rebound?" she asked.

   Bob patted his stomach.   "Hey, I ate already.   What else is there but
sex now?"

   "And I guess I am the only woman around," she said, still smiling.

   "Yeah," he said, as if it didn't matter. "I guess so.     You aren't
much
to look at, but you're the only game in town."

   She reached to slap him on the arm and her elbow knocked over the half
full carafe of juice. The red liquid flowed across the table and
splashed
into her lap. She squealed, and her convulsive jerk scooted her chair
back
a few inches, but the damage was done. Her shorts and thighs were
stained
with red.

   Her eyes filled with tears, and Bob hastily said "Boy!    I can't take
you
anywhere!"

   Her tears turned to laughter, and she dropped her head into her hands,
only to pull her face away and see that her hands were also wet with
juice.
She wiped ineffectually at her face, simply smearing the juice around.

   "OK," she sighed.    "Take me swimming."
   =========================================

   Bob, knowing that her mood could change rapidly, and without warning,
intended to do just that - take her swimming. While getting her naked
would undoubtedly be a fun thing, he was also well aware that she WAS a
woman on the rebound, and that taking advantage of her situation would
not
result in happy times in the long run. She had had enough pain and
suffering, and he didn't want to add to it.

   So, his intentions, when he went to her, and she raised her arms, and
he
pulled her tank top up and over her head, were actually honorable, for
the
most part.

   She sat, quiet, at first, and just looked at him as he tried not to
look
at her naked breasts. Then she tried pushing her wet shorts down,
leaning
from side to side. It didn't work.

   So Bob picked her up and took her to the bed, where he laid her down
gently as she raised her legs. As he peeled the shorts off her damp
legs,
she continued to stare at him. Then he started to pick her up again.

   "Your clothes," she reminded him.

   "I can change later," he said.

   "Your clothes," she said again.

   He looked uncertain, but her level gaze betrayed nothing unhappy, so
he
slowly took off his shirt. Pausing a moment with his thumbs in the
waistband of his own shorts, he finally pushed them down. He was
relieved
to feel his penis flaccid.

   Her eyes went to it as soon as it was exposed, but she said nothing.

   When he picked her up, her arms went around his neck, and she burrowed
her face into his chest. The sand was already hot under his bare feet as
he carried her to the surf. Still she said nothing.

   When they got in the water, and she began to float, she resumed the
instinctive position, holding her chest to his as she stretched out her
legs and began kicking gently.

   "It's still sore," she said into his shoulder.

   "It will be sore for a couple of weeks," he answered.
   "It feels so different," she said.    "In the daylight, I mean.   I feel
like everybody can see us."

   "There's nobody around for half a mile," he said, stroking her back.

   "Set me down," she ordered.

   He let her drift away, holding her hands, at first, but she pulled
free
and began to tread water. She was tall enough that she could put her
good
foot down and bounce lightly on it, holding her body steady by moving her
arms. She looked around.

   "It's gorgeous here," she sighed.

   "It's why I came here," he said. "After the breakup, I fooled around
and made some money. But I wasn't happy. I came here and learned how to
be happy again."

   "You were married?" Julie asked.

   "Yeah. She took off one night.     Just disappeared into the underground
of the city or something."

   "I can't imagine someone leaving you," she said.    "I think you're
wonderful."

   "I was driven, back then," he said. "I wanted to become wealthy, and
was willing to neglect everything else except that goal. She was a
fun-loving girl ... wanted to party and enjoy life. I can't really
blame
her for going somewhere else when I didn't give that to her."

   "So you got divorced?"

   "I filed the papers ... put out the public notices.    She didn't
appear
in court, of course. It was over just like that."

   "I suppose I'll have to do the same thing." She sighed again.

   "Under the circumstances, I expect the annulment you mentioned is the
best idea. It should be easier ... quicker," he said.

   Julie pushed with her hands and laid back in the water, kicking with
her
good foot and using her arms to propel her body along the surface. Her
breasts broke the water and Bob stared at them. She let her momentum
die,
and her legs sank. She changed smoothly into a breast stroke that took
her
back toward Bob.
   "It's not polite to stare," she smiled.     "Not proper either, for an
uncle to stare at his niece."

   He twisted his face intentionally. "That's right!     You're not going
to
be my niece once you get the annulment."

   "You were a naughty uncle anyway." she grinned.

   "You were a naughty niece," he countered.

   She stopped, a foot away from him, her eyes staring into his.

   "I think I want to kick again," she said.

   She flowed against him, sliding her arms around his neck and under his
arm, pressing her breasts to his chest. She kicked gently, and wiggled
her
upper body against his.

   "You're being naughty again," he said.

   "I know." She wiggled some more.   "I feel like kissing you again,
too."

   "Julie ..." He put warning in his voice.

   "I know," she said again. "I'm on the rebound, and vulnerable and all
that. But you've been nice to me, and I feel all wiggly inside when we
do
this."

   "Roger was nice to you too," he commented.

   The arm that was through his arm pit moved, and he felt her hand slide
down his hip.

   "You're not Roger," she said as it moved. Her hand went lower, to his
thigh, and came up, her hand cupping his balls. She gripped them firmly,
but not too firmly. "You'd better not be Roger," she said. "I've heard
that if I squeeze these really hard, I can make a man sorry he hurt me."

   "I'm not ROGER!" he yelped, as she squeezed gently.

   Her hand moved up and fumbled to find his penis.

   "How come you aren't hard?" she asked.

   "This isn't the time to be hard," he said.

   "Oh." She let go, and brought her hand back up to his back.

   "Can I really stay here?"
   "Definitely," he said.

   "You just want to do this," she teased, rubbing her breasts against
his
chest.

   "As often as humanly possible," he sighed.

   "If I wasn't your niece ...   you could kiss me," she murmured.

   "I'm old enough to be your uncle," he said.   "Or your father."

   "I don't have a father," she said.   "He ran away when I was little ...
like your wife."

   "I'm sorry," he said.

   "I never knew him.   He doesn't really exist for me."

   "That's sad too," he said. "When my wife left, she took our daughter
with her. I miss that the most, I think."

   "That's terrible!" said Julie, hugging him tighter.

   "Yeah.   I have no idea how she grew up, or what she's like, or if
she's
happy."

   "I'd say maybe she's like me," said Julie, lifting her head to look
into
his eyes. "but I don't want you to think of me like a daughter. A niece
either."

   Then she kissed him. She did it without warning, pressing her lips
against his. His stiffened at first, but then relaxed as he felt her
warm
lips moving. Her head went this way and that, and her hug got harder.
Whether it was meant to be a short kiss or not, it didn't turn out that
way. It was a long, lover's kiss ... the kind of kiss that usually is
only
shared after a couple has kissed many times.

   When it was over, she buried her face in his chest again.

   "I hope you know what you're doing," sighed Bob.

   "I hope I do too," came her muffled reply.

   They floated in the warm water for another five minutes.    She kicked,
occasionally, but most often just hugged him.

   Without words he pulled her back into the carry position, and started
back toward the beach. She kept her face pressed to his shoulder, her
long
hair hanging down beside them as he exited the water and crossed the
sand.

   Without words, he took her to the shower and stood her on her good
foot
while he turned on the water, shielding them from the cold water with his
open hand until it warmed.

   She grabbed the soap before he could, tearing off the paper wrapping
and
rubbing it between her hands to soften the hard exterior of the bar.
When
her hands were sudsy, she stroked both of his shoulders, starting at his
neck, and moving outward to his upper arms, before sweeping them back
over
his chest. She looked at what she was washing, and not at his face,
intent
on her mission. She covered all his flesh she could reach, bending to
get
her fingertips to his calves. To wash his back she pressed her front
against his and her hands slid all over his back and down to cup his hard
buttocks. Last she washed his balls and penis, which was now rock hard
and
jutting from his wet pubes.

   Without a word, she handed him the soap and steadied herself on one
foot
by leaning one hand against the tiled wall.

   He returned the favor, washing her briskly and efficiently, trying not
to spend too much time with either her breasts, or between her legs. As
he
washed her shaven pubis, one finger slipped between puffy pussy lips, but
he didn't press hard there.

   As he turned her, like a ballerina to rinse, her hand flashed out and
snatched up a little bottle of shampoo and she handed it to him.

   Without words she taught him now to pat and stroke the long hair, so
it
would stay straight and untangled as it was cleaned. She stood, leaning
forward, her head under the water and shook her head from side to side to
rinse her long tresses that hung down in front of her, and then, with an
expert flip of her head, the whole mass swung around to slap wetly onto
her
back. She turned and let her head lean back, again under the water, and
shook her head again to let the hair straighten out. Then she turned the
water off and stood, looking at Bob.

   Instead of carrying   her out of the big shower room, Bob got towels and
brought them into it.    They dried each other silently, at the same time,
arms colliding, bodies   twisting, as each tried to reach all the wet spots
on the other. When it    came to the hair, she leaned and let it fall
around
her shoulder, bending over. Her attempts to pat it dry made her almost
fall, and he took over, doing the same thing he had seen her do. She
signaled it was done by leaning and flipping her head again, to put the
long hank of damp hair down her back again.

   Now he picked her up, and carried her out of the bathroom.

   Somebody had taken a few swipes at Roger's vomit with a towel, which
was
still lying soiled by the smear on the floor. Bob went to the door, and
took her outside, turning toward the office.

   Without words he carried her to his quarters and lay her on his bed.
She looked up at him, her eyes dark, with both expectancy and a hint of
fear in them.

   He kissed her again, to see what her reaction was, and the fervor with
which she returned his kiss told him everything he needed to know. Her
hands came to his cheeks and held him there for a long time. Then she
pushed gently, and moved his face lower.

   He kissed her upper chest, and she pushed lower and to one side.

   He didn't tease her. Even though they had just showered, he could
already smell her arousal. That and her kiss gave him permission. He
sucked gently on the nipple she had directed him to and she gasped,
arching
her back and drawing her heels up. When that one was fully erect, he
switched to the other one and she arched so hard that only her head,
buttocks and heels were in contact with the bed.

   He took his time, kissing between her breasts, and then down to her
flat
stomach. He kissed around her belly button and then lower as she made a
sound in her throat.

   That sound swelled as he kissed lower, finding her smooth mons
slightly
prickly with a few day's growth of the hair she had removed. He thought
about his own chin, unshaven that morning, and reminded himself to press
lightly when he got where he intended to go.

   Her legs came up without help, opening, spreading in welcome, as he
scooted around to kneel, ass high in the air between her feet. Her hands
came and gripped his still-wet hair, pushing and pulling spastically,
like
she didn't know whether to push him away, or pull him closer.

   He kissed the very tip of her split, and pulled it open to expose her
clit, already protruding from it's protective sheath, also welcoming
touch
and sensation. He teased it ever so gently with the tip of his tongue,
pushing it this way, then that ... circling it as she moaned even
louder.
   Finally he sucked it between his lip-covered teeth and sealed his lips
around the base, flicking it with his tongue while he sucked.

   Again, like the first time, she went off almost immediately, crying
out
as her hips convulsed, making little rapid shoves into his face. Her
wild
movements broke his suction, and to regain his lock on her clitty he had
to
shove his face hard against her mons. Her legs flopped open wider, as if
his whiskers irritated, but then slammed shut on his head again as she
pulled hard on his hair. Her fingers slipped on the damp strands and, in
stead of trying to grip again, her fists balled and slammed into the
sheet
under her hips. Bob glanced up, craning his neck, to see her head
rolling
back and forth, her neck muscles corded. She made little yipping sounds
that reminded Bob of a pack of coyotes he had heard far off on a summer
night ... high pitched and ululating. As her orgasm reached its
pinnacle,
she arched her back and took her weight on her head, mouth open wide in a
soundless scream.

   Bob sensed when to remove the stimulation from her clitty, and stuck
his
tongue as far into her untried pussy as he could get it to reach, licking
and sucking the nectar her body was producing.

   She went suddenly limp, and he felt her wetness on his face as he
began
kissing his way back up, over her abdomen, to her nipples. They were
rock-hard now, but he just licked them gently, moving to kiss her throat
and under her ear. Her hands came to his back and pulled him down on top
of her. He heard her gasping breaths become more labored as his weight
settled on her, but still she hugged him tightly.

   His knees were still dug into the bed, her thighs still wide, and he
felt the tip of his prick nose into her split. He wanted badly to press
on, to feel her warmth around him, but the last thing in the world he
wanted now was to cause her discomfort or pain.

   Her hands came to his head and she manhandled his face so she could
kiss
him. He knew she had to feel the wet on his face ... had to smell
herself
on his lips as hers reached for his. She ignored that, and her kiss was
warm and soft.

   He kissed her repeatedly, mostly quick, but lingering kisses, not
always
square on each other's lips, and she soon learned how to let her lips
squeeze his and pull without using her teeth. He subconsciously ground
his
prick against her sex, getting the bottom of his rigid flesh between her
lips and rubbing her clit with it. He took his weight off of her by
resting it on his elbows, though her breasts were large enough, and firm
enough that they were still squashed into twin round, flat pillows.
Eventually, though, her labored breathing caused him to start to roll
over
to rest beside her.

   Her hands clutched at his waist.

   "There's more," she said, the first true words she had said since he
carried her out of the sea.

   "That can wait," he said, kissing her lower lip.

   "I don't want to wait," she said.   "I've waited long enough."

   "You're saving that," he said, kissing her again.   "For a special
man."

   Her eyes welled up, but didn't spill over.

   "I don't want to wait any more," she said, her voice shaky.      "You're a
special man."

   "You hardly know me," he said.

   "Don't make me beg," she said, the tears now threatening to creep out
and down her cheeks.

   "It hurts the first time," he said softly.

   "Please, don't make me beg," she begged.   "I want to give it to you."

   "I don't have anything to protect you," he said, making one last
effort
to give her time to think about things.

   "I don't want to be protected," she said, sudden heat in her voice.
"I
want to be loved. Love me, Bob."

   Bob Crandall took love seriously. He knew he lusted for this woman.
His mind grappled with the word she had used, and he thought.

   "Bob?" Her voice was rising now, and one eye finally gave up and let a
single tear run down her cheek toward her ear.

   "I'm thinking," he said, kissing her lower lips again, absently.

   He thought about what she had been through ... all the things she had
told him about, and all the things he could imagine. He thought about
her
innocence, and the maturity that battled with that innocence as she had
functioned in the short time he had known her. Not even twenty-four
hours
had passed since he had heard her faint cries on the beach, and carried
her
back to her flawed marriage bed. He had never believed in love at first
sight, but as he thought about her, he felt a tightness in his chest that
was unfamiliar. Could he love her? DID he love her? Was this a simple
interlude, to sooth the injured heart ... or was it the beginning of
something that could be very serious and affect his whole life? He
wanted
to be honest with her ... but first he had to be honest with himself.

   "I think I DO love you," he said, the surprise in his voice plain to
them both. "I think I loved you the minute I picked you up off that
beach."

   She smiled, and her smile was glorious, even though it forced the
other
tears out of her eyes and now both cheeks ran wet. Her hand loosened,
and
slid to his hip, trying to get between them. He lifted, automatically,
and
she found his rigid prick, squeezing it.

   "It feels so big," she murmured.    "Bigger than ..." She didn't finish.

   She pulled and then pushed to get the tip between her nether lips.

   "I don't want to wait any more, Bob," she said again.

   A furnace of heat surrounded the tip of Bob's cock, and he resisted
the
almost frantic urge to surge forward and bury himself in that heat.
Taking
a deep breath, he only let his knees drive him forward enough to feel his
foreskin stretch and slip back over his glans as her tight lips pushed at
it.

   She took a breath too, and her face went blank for a split second,
then
changed to a frown, and then displayed only eagerness.

   "Yes!" she said.     Her hands went to his hips and pulled.

   "Easy," he warned.

   "DON'T MAKE ME BEG!" she yelled, thrusting up at him with her hips,
and
almost making the tip slide back out of her. Her yell inflamed him, like
a
nuclear burst of light, and he DID surge forward, driving his prick deep
into her in a single long thrust. Her legs jerked convulsively, pulling
her knees up, and her feet off the bed. He had unconsciously
straightened
his arms as he rocked forward, and his face loomed over hers as his pubic
bone thudded into hers.

   A groan of something tinged with pain burst from her throat, and Bob
felt terror. He started to withdraw, and her good leg slammed down over
his thighs as her hands slid up onto his back and pulled.

   Her pussy hugged him just as tightly, clasping and moving as muscles
she
had never used before made themselves aware to her and began to jerk in
uncontrolled bursts. He backed up an inch and then went in again, not so
hard this time. Her groan was less intense. Almost like she knew he
wouldn't take it away, her leg fell off of his thighs, and she wiggled
under him, like she was trying to find a more comfortable position.

   Again he withdrew, a little further this time, but went back in
immediately. Now her groan turned to a muted "Mmmmm".

   He was staring at her face ... at her tightly closed eyes, when they
fluttered open and stared back. He saw what he hoped was gratitude in
them.

   "Move some more," she gasped.

   He pulled out half way, and then sunk back in deep.

   "Yessss," she hissed.   "Like that."

   His infrequent starts and stops gradually changed into a smooth
rhythm,
and her face transposed, flickering from a tight-lipped grin to an pursed
lips that looked like she was blowing him a kiss. Her breathing took on
the same rhythm as his thrusts, and as he speeded up, her breathing did
to.
Soon he was not quite pounding her, fascinated by her face as she was
transformed from a frightened virgin to a woman who suddenly loved what
was
happening to her as she discovered what she could feel like for the very
first time.

   Her gasps of breath changed as her eyes went round, and became a
chant.

   "Oh Bob ...   Oh Bob ...   Oh Bob."

   Her eyes widened even further, and Bob could actually see the orgasm
that claimed her wash over her face as she screamed one last drawn out
"Ohhhhh Baaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhb!"

   Her orgasm triggered his own. His fascination with watching her face
was suddenly displaced with raging lust as he drove into her hard and
stopped, his entire body rigid, as all his remaining strength pushed his
copious semen through his penis. It flashed out and against Julie's
cervix
in three agonizingly delightful, thick spurts as his pubic bone mashed
her
clit flat.

   And then, so suddenly that neither of them was prepared for it, it was
over. Bob knew that he couldn't hold himself up off of her this time,
and,
with the last of his energy, he rolled, pulling her with him to leave her
draped over his body as they both gasped to get air into their lungs.
Her
hair flowed down off her back, and caressed his side and arm, still damp,
but warm now, from lying under her during their exertion. She relaxed,
laying her cheek flat on his upper chest, and he let his own head roll to
the side to make room for her head.

   CHAPTER FIVE

   Julie had assumed the aftermath of losing her virginity would be
awkward. Had the circumstances been what she had expected, it might have
been too. But her life had become so tumultuous in the last day or two
that, to both her amazement ... and joy ... what she felt was a glow
deep
inside her that she identified as love. She was surrounded by it ...
soothed at a place inside her she hadn't even known existed, but which
she
now recognized as the center of her human power. It was as if she were
suspended in an ocean of light, and peace, floating ... rising and
falling
gently ... without a care in the world, comfortable and safe ... at
peace. She felt like she was in another place ... a place outside of
reality as she knew it, where nothing could hurt or bother her.

   Her ears identified sounds that seeped into her consciousness, and her
other senses began to pick up cues from the real world. She thought
indolently that she should feel disappointment that her cocoon of safety
was being intruded upon, but didn't feel threatened at all instead.

   The languid rising and falling she had felt slowly transposed into the
feel of her body, lying on a firm, warm surface, that was actually doing
the rising and falling. As her mind came back to the real world, she
realized it was Bob's chest under her, and that his deep pants for breath
signaled that she was heavy.

   Her arms moved automatically, and another sensation flowed into her
mind
as she suddenly felt his hands on the small of her back, stroking and
holding her there.

   "Please don't move," his voice murmured in her ear.

   "I'm too heavy," she murmured back.

   One of his hands flowed up to the middle of her back, and dipped under
her hair, while the other slid down to cup one buttock in a way that made
her giggle because it seemed so shockingly intimate. Her conscious mind
was quite clear about what had just happened ... something so intimate
that her definition of the word had been unimaginably altered. His hand
WAS touching her intimately, but that word now had layers of meaning that
she felt like she could contemplate for days without resolving
completely.

   She kissed his neck, then licked where she had just kissed. Her head
felt like it weighed fifty pounds, but she enjoyed feeling her muscles
flex
to lift it. She looked down at his face, turned sideways, his eyes still
closed.

   "Are you going to do that to me again?" she asked.

   "Oh PLEASE yes," he sighed. The corners of his mouth tugged into a
gentle smile as his eyes opened and he rolled his head to look up at her.

   "When?" she asked, unable to conceal the eagerness in her voice.

   His laugh bounced her on his chest.

   "I told you I'm old," he chuckled. "I tried to tell you you'd be
sorry,
but you wouldn't listen to me. Now you're just going to have to wait for
my poor decrepit body to recuperate."

   Her right hand came to his chin, and she put a finger on his lip,
almost
as if she were trying to make him stop talking. In reality, she just
wanted to touch his lower lip ... to feel one of the parts of him that
had
made her feel so incredibly special.

   "I'm not sorry," she said, her voice firming.   "I'll never, ever be
sorry for what just happened."

   His hand slid out from under her hair to grasp her finger gently and
he
kissed it.

   "That makes me unimaginably happy," he said.

   "I'm happier than you," she teased.

   "No ...   I'm happier than YOU!" he teased back.

   "No, your decrepit old happy box is all cracked and leaky!" she
crowed.
"And that means I'm WAY happier than you."

   His hands flashed to her waist and tickled.
   "Your happy box isn't even full grown yet," he said, tickling her as
she
wiggled and squealed. "And it's been so long since my happy box was
emptied that I'll be happy for HOURS more."

   She fought back, but she was no match for him. They rolled and
laughed,
hands flashing, tweaking, pinching, until his legs trapped hers and she
found her arms above her head, wrists crossed and pinned by his strong
grip. His other hand stroked her, finding her nipples and pulling at
them.

   "Admit it," he panted, his fingers inflaming her again.   "I'm
happier."

   "You're molesting me," she whined, grinning. "I'm young and helpless,
and you're a dirty old man who would ravish his own niece!"

   "Don't change the subject," he said, lowering his head to suck at a
distended nipple.

   "Help ...   help ..." she said softly.   "He's going to touch my ...
pussy!"

   "I am?" he asked, switching to her other nipple.

   "Of course you are," she laughed. "You're molesting me, after all.
You
have to touch my pussy. It's a rule."

   "I don't always follow the rules," he said, licking her breasts as she
tried unsuccessfully to spread her legs.

   "That's because you're old," she moaned, writhing as he tortured her
erect nubs. "You probably don't even remember the rules because you're
so
old and senile."

   "Well looky there!" Bob said, rising to his knees, still holding her
wrists tightly above her head. She strained to lift her head and stared
with glee at his erect penis dangling above her abdomen. "I guess
there's
still some life in the old boy after all!"

   By rising, he freed her legs, and she flung them wide while she could.

   "Oh Bob, put it in me again," she moaned.   "Please Bob, don't tease me
any more."

   "You liked that, huh?" he asked, smugly.

   Weigh strength that surprised them both she jerked one hand free and
attacked him, poking a stiffened finger into the soft skin just below his
rib cage and pushing hard. He rolled in self defense and she scrambled
on
top of him, sitting upright with her hands out, fingers curled, her
painted
nails like the talons of an eagle, waiting to strike.

   "You just lie there like a good boy," she warned. "If you so much as
move a muscle you'll be very sorry." To punctuate her point both hands
flashed to his chest and squeezed handfuls of his chest flesh together in
her grip. He winced, but she didn't let up at all. She scooted her
pussy
down his stomach, leaving a wet trail of their mingled juices, until her
slot literally ran over his erection and sat on top of it.

   "Now," she said, flexing her thighs and raising her pussy up off his
prick. "You take one of your hands and get that thing ready to go back
in
me."

   Smiling, he grasped his cock and pointed it straight up. Her eyes
went
to her crotch and she lowered and wiggled until she felt the tip dig into
her. As soon as she did she sat down so hard and so fast that he didn't
get his hand away in time. When he jerked it out, she sank the last
three
inches and her hands relaxed as she let out a groan of satisfaction.

   "All you had to do was ask," he said, making his voice whine
theatrically.

   "I can't believe I went so long without this," she moaned, her hands
flat on his chest as her hips began to lurch forward and backward. She
refined her movements, leaning forward and arching her back
instinctively,
to bring her clitty into contact with the bone at the base of his prick.
Then her hips flashed rapidly, like a belly dancer's, as she basically
masturbated herself on his prick.

   By now he expected what happened. She came ... practically within
thirty seconds of full penetration, her pussy muscles spasming all around
his prick. Having cum so recently, and secretly amazed that he was
already
hard again, Bob felt no hurry, and pulled his hands up to fold them under
his head. He let her experiment and learn to ride as she gasped and
giggled through two more orgasms until at last she slumped, like a tired
cowgirl slumping in the saddle.

   "Are you just going to lie there?" she asked, looking down at him with
something dangerously like adoration in her eyes.

   "I think so," he answered.

   "I thought men wanted to dominate and fertilize their women," she
said,
her hips giving unplanned little wiggles.

   "Oh, I'll probably do that tonight. As you pointed out, I am of
advanced years, and I only have so many orgasms left in me. I plan to
pace
myself, so that I don't use it all up in a single hour ... assuming you
don't come to your senses and run screaming for the airport."

   "You said I could stay ..." her voice was tight.

   "I hope you do," he said.    "Thus my desire to save a little up for
later
tonight."

   "You promise?" she asked.

   "Cross my heart," he said.

   She melted down on top of his chest again, still firmly impaled on his
prick. She lay there and began to shake in a way that he suddenly
realized
was quiet sobs.

   "You OK?" He stroked her back.

   "I don't know," she hiccuped.

   "You having second thoughts?" he asked, his heart tightening.

   "That's not it at all," she sniffed.

   "Still thinking about Roger?"

   She laughed, snorting.

   "OK, then ...   what?"

   "What if I fall in love with you?" she asked, her voice tiny.

   "It would be silly, but I can think of much worse things happening,"
he
answered truthfully.

   Her head came up, her hair covering half her face as she looked at
him.

   "Why would it be silly?" she asked.

   "You have your whole life ahead of you," he said. "Why tie half of it
up with a guy who'll just get too old to meet your needs later."

   He wasn't trying to be cruel, but he didn't want her to make decisions
based on only emotion. He ached for her to be in love with him, but he
honestly believed that was something that could be improved on ... at
least from her perspective.

   "You'd deny me being gloriously happy for half my life?" she accused.

   "I never quite thought of it that way," he admitted.    "Wouldn't you
rather be gloriously happy for the REST of your life?"

   "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," she said,
matter-of-factly. "I don't have a very good track record for choosing to
be happy ... at least not until about an hour ago."

   "Why don't we get up and go do something ... maybe get something to
eat
... before I get too tempted to ... fertilize you again."

   She squeezed his prick with her pussy muscles.

   "Mmmmm. You know ... I have complete faith in my ability to bring
life
back to your shrunken old male part ... later on tonight ... even if
you
abuse it and molest me again right now."

   Bob was astounded at what she did to him, both to his body and to his
mind. He had had women before, of course, but no few of them had been
hired, and were all business. Others had other things on their minds, a
variety of agendas that sex with him was just a small part of. He had
never felt really wanted in the way she communicated to him that she
wanted
him. The rigidity this caused as she moved on that rigidity, brought
back
thoughts of younger years, and he rolled her over again, to land on top
of
her, this time with his hands beside her breasts.

   As he had laid and watched her having fun, she now laid under him and
stared at his face and upper body as he began to pleasure himself in her.
Somehow they both knew that this time was for him, and that her own
orgasm
wasn't necessary, like his hadn't been as she rode him. She loved the
ripple of his chest muscles, and the way his face went through changes as
she squeezed him with internal muscles and stroked him with external
ones.

   "I really shouldn't cum inside you again," he panted.

   "Yes ... you should," she answered, raking his back with her
fingernails and crossing her legs over his.

   "Why would you chance that?" he groaned.

   "I'm giving you something very special, Bob, and I want to give it to
you in every sense. I want to surrender to you, and that is part of
surrendering," she said simply.
   "It wouldn't be good for you to fall in love with me," he said
stubbornly.

   "You're NOT too old for me," she said.

   "That's not it," he panted, moving faster. "If you fall in love with
me, I'll fall so hard for you that I won't be able to stop."

   "Oh," she said softly.   "Are you going to fertilize me now?"

   "Ohhhh fuck, Julie," he groaned.   "What are you doing to meeeeee?"

   His balls bunched and he sagged forward, almost gently as he bathed
her
nubile pussy with another load of heavy cream.

   "I'm thanking you, old man," she whispered, pulling him tightly into
her.

   ===============================================

   He insisted that she get dressed in her running outfit, and then he
carried her to a beat up jeep parked under a palm tree.

   "Where are we going?" she asked.

   "To town.   You need some clothes," he answered.

   "Surely my luggage will show up soon," she said. "Besides, I kind of
like going around naked." She gave him a coquettish smile.

   "That's the problem," he said. "If you keep going around naked, I'm
going to age twenty years in the next week."

   She laughed as he ground the gears and they rumbled off down the
coastline. His first stop, though, wasn't at a clothing shop. It was at
the local clinic, where he went in and came back with a wheel chair,
fitted
with oversized air-filled tires that were suitable for use in sand.

   "Crutches would have done nicely," she teased.

   "This way, as I push you, I can look down your blouse," he said with a
straight face.

   "With crutches I could just go naked," she pointed out.

   "We already had this conversation," he said darkly.

   Then he did take her shopping. She admitted that being pushed around
in
the wheel chair was probably better than him having to carry her into the
shops.
   He bought her three sets of American style clothes, and two local
outfits. When she insisted that he didn't need to spend his money, he
reminded her that she might be unemployed soon, if she actually decided
not
to go back to work. That shut her up, to say nothing of dampening the
mood
a little.

   But her new clothes brightened her up, especially the native dress,
which was loose and airy and unlike anything she had ever thought of
wearing before. She wore one of those outfits when he took her to
dinner,
changing in the jeep as he drove through town. She giggled maniacally as
she got naked and then slipped the dress on over her head and wiggled to
get it under her buttocks. Then she pouted because Bob had stared
straight
ahead while she did it.

   Dinner was lobster, and the eyes of every man in the place were on
Julie
at one time or another, much to the displeasure of the women those men
were
supposed to be with.

   They talked about everything in general, and nothing in particular,
just
passing the time with good food and good rum and good company. Julie
noticed that Bob only sipped at his rum sparingly. She didn't notice
that
the level of her own glass went down significantly faster. He took her
to
the bathroom door in the chair, and then tended to his own bladder while
she navigated the bathroom on her own. When they returned to the table
desert was already there, and her glass had been refilled. The taste of
the rum, mixed with the custard, was delightful, and by the time he put
her
back into the jeep, she was giddy, on the tipsy edge of being drunk, but
fully capable of complex thought.

   "Thank you for a wonderful day," she said, reaching for his thigh as
they drove between tall trees in the twilight.

   Her suitcases were sitting beside the office door when they got back,
which was cause for no little laughter on her part.

   For Bob, the day had been a very intentional attempt to "normalize"
Julie's attitude about life. He had exposed her to other men her age,
and
to some of the normal things that a woman her age did - shopping and
being
taken to dinner. With a vague ache in his stomach, he tried to give her
every opportunity to draw back from him ... to realize that their ages
were so disparate that it was a foolish pleasure to become infatuated
with
him. He knew that, sooner or later, the pain of what had happened to her
would fade enough that she would become interested in things again. At
that point her eyes would cast about, looking for a man to replace the
disappointment that had been her husband. He felt it was his duty, at a
minimum - especially considering what she had already given him - to
attempt to hasten that healing process by giving her a guilt-free way to
back away from him gracefully. Women on the rebound were often quite
fun,
but Bob didn't want to hurt this one. He also didn't want to BE hurt by
this one. His feelings for her were already much deeper than they had
been
for any other woman in a long, long time, and if he didn't pull back, he
wouldn't WANT to pull back after much longer.

   Julie, though, noticed none of it. At least not in the way Bob
intended. During the day she had seen the scenery, and the colors and
smelled the exotic smells of the market place. She had eaten unfamiliar
food, and worn clothing she'd never have thought about choosing for
herself. But she had had eyes only for Bob that day. In truth, had she
tried, she would not have been able to remember a single male face she
had
seen that day. He was fun to be around. He was polite. There was no
subject that he was afraid to talk about, and yet, when it came to things
like politics and religion, he was able to chat without anyone's opinions
being made to seem "wrong". He was ... comfortable somehow, and she
loved
every second of the day with him.

   =============================================

   Bob, feeling almost ill, continued his plan to get her off the island
and back to America, where she could go on with her life.

   "I'll take those down to the cottage," he said.    "I imagine you'd
prefer
different accommodations for tonight, though."

   She looked at him with tilted head. She was still wearing her new
sunglasses, so he couldn't see her eyes, but her lazy smile suggested she
wasn't unhappy at the subject.

   "You imagine correctly, good sir," she said.    "My previous
accommodations are entirely unsuitable."

   He picked up her suitcases, and she put the bag with her new purchases
in her lap and attempted to follow him as he set off around the corner of
the office.

   "This is HARD!" she panted, after twenty yards.

   "You're young and strong," he said over his shoulder grinning.    "Don't
be a soft American. Tough it out, girl!"
   He took her to another cottage, this one smaller, and less sumptuously
appointed than the honeymoon cottage. She bumped over the threshold and
turned the chair in a circle, still panting lightly.

   "Something smells funny," she said, wrinkling her nose and sniffing at
the air. "This one won't do."

   Bob sniffed, and then shrugged his shoulders, picking up her suitcases
again. As they left she said "There's something in the old cottage I
just
thought of. I need to get it. Which one are you going to next?" she
asked.

   He pointed to a cottage thirty yards away, one of three in a line
between where they were and the office.

   "I'll meet you there," she said.

   She turned and wheeled off across the sand while Bob sighed and
trudged
to the next cabin. He was inspecting a crack in the wall, high in one
corner, that suggested the lack of a foundation under the cottage might
have to be remedied one of these days, when she bumped through the door,
her wedding dress bundled up on her lap. She rolled toward him.

   "What's that?" she asked, looking up at where he had been looking when
she came in.

   "Crack," he said.   "The ground is shifting under the cottage or
something.

   "Well, I can't be expected to stay in a cottage that might fall into
the
ocean any minute," she snorted. "Take me to another one."

   When she found something wrong with the next one too, Bob's suspicions
flared up. He was not surprised, therefore, when she said the view was
substandard in the last one.

   "I have two other cottages," he said, softly, "but they're down the
beach a ways. They're for those people who like to 'rough it' when they
come down here. I thought they'd be a little too far away."

   "Oh, I'm sure you're right," she said nodding her head.   "Besides, I
didn't come here to rough it."

   "In that case, I'm afraid you've seen everything I have to offer," he
said.

   Julie put one finger on her chin.   "Well, then, I guess I'll just have
to choose one of them ... won't I?"

   Bob didn't say anything.   He wondered how she was going to say it, but
he had no doubt any more what she would say.

   She didn't say it anything near like what he might have expected.

   "Men are so STUPID!" she snorted, sitting there looking beautiful.
"Didn't I ask you not to make me beg? Didn't I TELL you not to make me
beg? And here you are, making me beg. Are ALL men stupid? Or is it just
you Crandall men?"

   She wheeled the chair in a tight circle and bounced out the door,
turning left toward the office ... and Bob's quarters. Picking up her
suitcases, he stepped out and gingerly followed her. She wasn't having
any
trouble pushing the chair through the sand now. Her agitation gave her
strength, and she already had the door to his rooms open when he got
there.
His threshold was a little higher than the rest, since the office and the
rooms attached to it were on a concrete pad. She had slowed down enough
that she was having trouble getting the rear wheels of the chair over the
obstacle when he arrived behind her. He dropped her suitcases, pushed
her
into his quarters, and then picked up the suitcases again and carried
them
in.

   "This will do," she said tightly. She wheeled around to face him.
"And
before you go and do something noble, like offering to sleep somewhere
else, I'd think very carefully about that. If you keep behaving like
this
I'm going to lose this desire I have inside - which is hanging on by a
thread, by the way - to be fertilized again!"

   "Good grief, Julie," moaned Bob, looking at the ceiling.   His heart
leapt in his chest, though.

   "Good sex will do for now," she said calmly. "I'm almost drunk, and
you
can take advantage of me quite easily if you put your mind to it." She
picked up her balled up wedding dress and threw it in a corner, like it
was
a basketball.

   "You went all the way down there to get that and then treat it like
that?" Bob asked.

   "I didn't go there to get that," she said, wheeling around and toward
the bed. "I just picked it up because it cost a lot of money and I
wasn't
going to just leave it there."

   "What did you go get?" asked Bob with genuine curiosity.
   "Go in there!" said Julie, pointing at his bathroom.   "You can come
out
when I tell you to."

   "You've gotten awfully bossy all of a sudden," said Bob, grinning.

   "You made me beg. Now you pay the price," she sulked. "Now go in
there. That string I was talking about is getting thinner and thinner."

   When he was gone, Julie reached under her butt and pulled out the
little
wisps of cloth that her mother had gotten her for her honeymoon. She had
thought they looked ridiculous. She had thought they looked slutty.
Now,
after having experienced something with Bob that she truly had had no
concept of, she realized several things. She realized why her mother
acted
the way she did. That was no excuse for her mother's crassness, but at
least she now understood what motivated her mother's amoral ways.
Julie's
depths had been plunged into only twice, thus far, but those two times
had
convinced her that this needed to be a significant part of her life from
now on. Another thing she had learned was that there were men ... at
least ONE man anyway ... who was willing to put his own desires on hold,
and pay attention to the needs of the woman he was with. In all her
life,
she had always felt vaguely like she was alone in a jungle, running from
whatever predator she was with at the time, unsure when she might be
caught
and eaten. Even Roger, while he honored her desire to save herself for
her
groom, continued to push the envelope, based on what HE wanted.

   Now, for the first time, that jungle she was in felt like home. Bob
was
a masterful mature lion, and she was a young lioness, but she had teeth,
and claws, and the king of the jungle had given her respect and space.
She
wasn't afraid any more. She wasn't a flighty girl, dreaming about
impossible things either. She knew Bob was old enough to be her father.
She just didn't care. She liked him, plain and simple. Her virginity
was
gone, so she wasn't being held hostage any more by that particular dream.
Even if things went badly between her and Bob in the future - and she
couldn't imagine why they would - she would enter her next relationship
no
more 'soiled' than she already was. As she stripped off her native
outfit
and slipped into the sexy thing her mother had given her, she glanced
into
the mirror. She still thought it looked too small, and was a little
silly,
but she knew Bob would like it somehow. And right now she wanted him to
like it enough that he'd stop being so gentlemanly about things.

   She tugged at the bra, until each nipple popped out and was underlined
by the material. She pulled at the thong, so that the cloth slipped
between her pouting pussy lips. They looked fat and white against the
dark
cloth, and she thought that looked silly too, but with a conviction she
felt in her bones, she knew it was the right thing to do with Bob. She
leaned against the bed with her good leg, and put her injured foot down
lightly, knee slightly bent. One hand fell lightly on the wheel chair
handle.

   "OK, you can come out now," she called. When he came through the
door,
she added. "This is what I went back for. Another man has seen me in
it,
but he didn't seem to pay that much attention at the time, so really, I
suppose you're the first man I've actually worn it for on purpose."

   She actually heard his gulp as he swallowed.

   CHAPTER SIX

   Julie sighed as she relaxed. She smiled as she realized she had a lot
to learn about men. She'd gotten a lot of it right, but there were
nuances
of manhood that she didn't expect, or understand yet. She was learning,
though ... learning quite quickly.

   Bob's reaction to "the getup" had vastly exceeded her expectations.
Like a whirlwind, he had enveloped her. It had almost seemed like she
was
never quite able to catch her breath. That, or maybe she had been a
little
tipsier than she thought. At any rate, she had a hard time remembering
exactly how things happened, because they happened so quickly.

   His mouth and hands had been all over her, touching her in places she
would never had thought were 'sexy' before, but which made her body
tighten
up like the strings on some huge instrument. She knew "the getup" would
need some repair if she was ever going to wear it again. The bra had
flown
away while she was in the act of falling onto the bed under him. His
sudden almost violent penetration of her had taken her breath away,
though,
now that she looked back on it, she had to have been physically prepared
for it. He hadn't used any lubricant, and he had been overpowering, but
she hadn't felt any pain at all.

   He had rutted in her. That was the only word she could think of to
describe what he had done. She might be the lioness, young and supple,
but
his mature strength and size had completely dominated her as he pounded
her
into willing submission. Somehow, while he dominated her, orgasms seemed
to keep crashing over her like she was under a waterfall of them. She
couldn't even get enough breath to tell him to stop ... to let her
breathe.

   She remembered his hard body sliding all over hers, sweat poured off
of
both of them. She remembered his amazingly strong grip on her waist,
lifting her and turning her, forcing her onto her hands and knees while
he
approached from behind and skewered her in that position. She marveled
at
how different that felt, especially with his fingers pulling at her
nipples, or sliding down to press and strum her clit while that long,
hard
thing plumbed her depths.

   It was in that position that she felt the warm flow of wet deep inside
her as he paused for the first spurt. But, to her delight, he started
lunging into her again, still hard. He flipped her again, putting a
pillow
under her hips before mounting her and sliding in, this time so easily
that
she was afraid she wouldn't feel anything, so slick was she. His feet
kicked her legs closed, though, and, while she lay straight as an arrow,
he
rocked on top of her, his entire weight on the thing driving into her and
scraping her clit every time it moved, until she screamed her pleasure.

   When she went limp that time, he slowed a little, sliding into her
several more times, almost languidly, before he pushed hard and groaned
again. More of that warm, wet feeling deep inside her belly made her
moan
with him.

   She was surprise to find that, when he rolled off of her to lie on his
side, his hand making lazy circles on her abdomen, that she didn't mind.
Before she had loved the heavy feel of him on her, but this was nice too,
as she strained to breathe. The pillow felt strange under her hips and
she
reached for it, tugging ineffectually until he gripped her wrist and
stopped her.

   "What?" she said.

   "Leave it there," he said.

   "Why ...   it's uncomfortable."

   "It's to keep all my seed inside you," he said. "To make a baby." His
hand came back to her belly and stroked again. "To make our baby."
   Julie's consciousness fragmented into distinct little pieces at that
moment. Part of her mind realized that she knew exactly what lovemaking
was all about, and how babies were made. Another part of her reminded
her
that she had decided not to go on the pill for the express purpose of
making herself fertile during her honeymoon. Then there was the part of
her that said "Whoa, there girl! Dreaming about it is one thing ...
actually getting knocked up is another!" And there was the part that
reminded her that she was supposed to get pregnant by her husband, not
the
proprietor of a beach resort. There was the part of her that didn't
believe she COULD get pregnant. Lots of women don't believe it can
actually happen to them until it does. Another bit of her mind was
recognizing that the man who had put all that warm seed in her belly had
just shown a side of himself that she would never have suspected was
there
... an animal ... powerful ... completely male side. That thought
split
into two fragments, one grinning at the fun it had been to be dominated
like that, and the other fearful that he might act like that too often,
or
when she wasn't ready for it. That thought trickled into a realization
that she HAD been ready to be loved this way ... to be dominated ... to
be bred, and that surprised her too, because she would never have thought
SHE could be like that. Still another part of her mind was outraged that
he would so intentionally try to impregnate her, knowing what had
happened
to her. She realized she was rigid, and staring at the ceiling. The
pillow felt like it was pushing her womb up, offering it as a sacrifice.
A
different place in her brain shouted that she had goaded him into it ...
had intended for it to happen.

   All these thoughts were zinging around inside her skull, each one
shouting to be heard ... to be dominant over all the others. She dimly
heard him call her name while this battle went on, but she was too busy
to
respond.

   Then, like a knife, cold, hard and sharp, coupled with him taking his
hand OFF her belly, his next statement cut through the babble in her
head,
shredding all those thoughts and banishing them back to a place where she
could store them for a while.

   "I can get you the morning after pill, Julie."

   She was still rigid, still arrow straight on the bed, her hands at her
sides, her belly still poking up into the air. All her thoughts were
replaced suddenly by the thought that a tiny little life might be in
there
already, not yet with a beating heart, but getting bigger as two cells
became four, and then ten and then hundreds. Now, instead of feeling
like
her womb was being sacrificed, she felt like it was being honored ...
lifted up in celebration of new life.

   All her emotion ... all the guilt, and fear, and disappointment ...
all the anger and anxiety was pushed out of her by the remembered
emotions
of overwhelming love ... of the sharing that two people can do together
that cannot be done any other way ... of hope, and expectation ... of
unrealized dreams. Those new emotions flooded her whole body as it
relaxed
and she sobbed at the very concept of halting that life that might
already
grace her womb.

   She rolled to face him, tears streaming down her face, arms grappling
and fumbling for him, unable to get under him and having no place to go.
She buried her face in his chest.

   "No pills," she sobbed.   "No pills."

   His arms came around her, and she snuggled up against him, loving the
feeling of being safe again.

   They lay like that long enough that she almost dozed.     She jerked
awake,
though, lifting her head.

   "I love you," she said.

   "I know, baby," he said back.   "And that's good, because I love you
too.
You're stuck with me now."

   She kissed him.   "You can stick me any time you like."

   "I don't suppose you'd think about getting married again," he said,
kissing her under her ear.

   "I came here to have a honeymoon," she said, kissing him back.

   "It will take a week or so to get your first marriage annulled," he
said. "Then however long for you to plan the ceremony. You want to do it
here, or back home, so your mother can be there?"

   "If I have my way, my mother will never lay eyes on you," said Julie
firmly. "And she's certainly not going to help me plan another wedding.
No sir ... I'm staying right here. If I never go back home again that
will be just fine with me. The last thing I need is my mother trying to
get into your pants."

   "Sounds like an interesting woman," laughed Bob.

   ============================================
   He told her, quite clearly, that, at some point in the near future, he
would ask her formally to marry him, and that, until that time, he would
help her do whatever needed to be done to straighten out her situation.
He
told her that burning bridges was a very risky thing to do sometimes, and
that she should leave as many of them intact as she could. That included
the bridge that, if she thought about things, and decided she had been
rash
in her relationship with Bob, could be used to escape that situation.

   "Why do you keep thinking I'll run away from you," she asked
peevishly.

   "When I marry you, I intend to stay with you for the rest of my life,"
he said simply. "I let one woman chase me away and I lost something very
dear to me when that happened. I'm not going to let that happen again.
If
you go through with this mad little scheme of yours, I want you to
understand it's for life. Period. Good or bad ... this marriage is
going
to stay together."

   "I love you," she said simply. "I know we've only known each other
for
a few days, but I also know I love you. I'm not going to question that
feeling. It's the strongest I've felt about any man in my whole life,
and
I'm going to trust that feeling."

   ===========================================

   It took two weeks, in fact, for all the legal issues to be dealt with.
Roger, when he'd left the Bahamas, had not flown back to the United
States.
Nor had he flown to London. He had, in fact, flown to Paris, France,
where
he either still was, or where he had gone underground, moving out of that
city by some method that did not require him to identify himself. He had
maxed out three credit cards, getting cash advances, and had also emptied
his bank accounts. A Warrant had been issued for his arrest on bigamy
charges.

   They found all this out in court, when Julie was required to fly back
to
the U.S. to get the marriage annulled. She insisted on buying her own
ticket, saying she had gotten herself into this mess, and intended to get
herself out. She did allow Bob to escort her, and he went everywhere she
went. The whole time he complained about the smells, the noise, the
pollution and the crowds. They stayed in Julie's apartment, which had
been
paid up through the end of the month. Most of her things were already
packed up, in anticipation of moving them to her new home once the
honeymoon was over. She went through those boxes, consolidating things
into a few boxes they shipped to the Bahamas, and then, on the last day,
set the rest out on the sidewalk for anyone who wanted it. By the time
they got in the cab they had called for, half the stuff was already gone.

   On the flight back to the Bahamas, Julie leaned back in her seat and
sighed.

   "I don't want anything fancy.   I just want us to be part of each
other's
lives," she said.

   "What you want is what you get," he said, reaching for her hand.

   "I was only supposed to get married once," she sighed. "Roger
promised
me I'd never even think of marrying another man. That seems like years
ago
now."

   "So, don't think about marrying me," he joked.

   "That's not as funny as you think it is," she said dryly. "When I was
getting ready to marry Roger, all I could think of was how my life would
change, and how I'd be a wife now, and all the things that went with
that.
He said he didn't want me to work, so I wondered what I'd do with my
time.
It was like my whole world was being turned upside down."

   Bob squeezed her hand.

   "But when I think about us ... I just think about the beach, and
maybe
cooking sometimes, and learning to fish and things like that," she said.
It's almost like I found my best friend, and I'm just going to live with
him."

   "We can't be best friends," he said seriously.   "Best friends don't
have
sex."

   She looked at him. "I don't even know you, really. I love you, and I
love being around you. I love the way you make me feel." She leaned
closer
and whispered conspiratorially "I especially love the sex." She leaned
back. "But I don't know anything about you. I don't know your birthday,
or
where you grew up or any of that kind of thing. That's what I think
about
when I think about our future. There are so many things I get to learn
about you, and I can't wait to get started."

   "OK," he said. "We'll just break that rule.    Best friends who have
sex.
I can live with that." He grinned.
   ==============================================

   What threatened to ruin everything was something neither of them could
possibly have anticipated. Nor could they have planned for it. It just
happened, and when it did, it was as if the genie came out of the bottle
and floated in front of both of them. Once that genie was out, it could
not be stuffed back into the bottle.

   They were in a small, tidy office with whitewashed walls and a ceiling
fan turning lazily overhead. They were filling out the documents
necessary
for their marriage to be licensed. Bob knew the clerk, and he chatted
with
the black-faced smiling woman as Julie carefully penned in all her
personal
information. She had been told in court that she need not ever identify
herself as having been married, at least not to Roger Crandall. So her
part of the form was pretty simple, requiring only her personal
information.

   "I don't know who my father was," she said, lifting her eyes to those
of
the clerk. "He ran away when I was little, and my mother changed my name
to her maiden name."

   The clerk waved her hand lazily.    "Is no problem, my dear.   Just put
down what you know."

   Julie promptly handed the form to the woman, who looked it over and
then
handed it to Bob to fill out his part. Bob settled back into his chair,
while Julie took over chatting with the clerk. He propped the clipboard
on
his crossed knee and his eyes drifted over Julie's information.

   Then they stopped.

   He stared, then glanced up and then back down.

   It took perhaps two minutes for either of the women to notice that he
wasn't writing anything on the form. Their conversation stopped, and
both
women looked at him.

   "Bob?" Julie's voice was puzzled.

   "Can I speak to you privately?" his voice cracked.

   He stood up and walked to the door of the office, taking the clipboard
with him.

   When she got over her surprise enough to stand and follow him, she
found
him pacing the sidewalk outside.

   "Bob?" she probed again.

   "I never even asked you your last name!" he rasped, his face looking
anguished.

   "OK," said Julie, still puzzled.

   "Your mother is Arianna Phips." It wasn't a question.

   "Well, not any more," said Julie.   "Right now it's Thompson, but Phips
was her maiden name."

   "Arianna Phips from Las Vegas?   Arianna Phips who has a tattoo of an
iguana on her right ankle?"

   Julie stared.   "How could you know that?"

   Bob gave a frustrated sigh, and ran his hand through his hair.

   "I know that because Arianna Phips married me, and bore me a daughter,
and then cheated on me with seven men I could positively identify, and
probably fifteen or twenty more I couldn't, until I threatened to divorce
her and take custody of my daughter. She disappeared, and I never saw
either of them again."

   Julie was having trouble processing the information she had just been
given. It wasn't that it was hard to understand. It was that, if she
believed it, her whole world would crumble around her. Again.

   "That cannot be true," she said, her voice surprisingly calm. "My
father ran out on us. That's why she changed my name. She said she
didn't
want me to have anything of his, because he deserted us."

   Bob shook his head sadly. "I came home from work and the place was
cleaned out. I found most of our stuff at a pawn shop, and the bank
account was empty. We only had four hundred dollars in it. She had help
... one of the men she'd been cheating on me with, probably. I tried to
find you. I didn't know what to do ... where to look. She went
underground and the police wouldn't do anything because there was no
legal
recourse."

   "You're my father?" squeaked Julie.

   "I still have the divorce papers in a safety security box at the bank.
They have your name on them ... except that it's Julianna. She named
you
after herself. I can show them to you," he said helplessly.

   "You didn't run out on us?" she asked, dazed.
   "No, baby, I loved you. I wanted to take care of you. I tried to
look
for you for years. I just didn't know how, and I didn't have the money
to
hire an expert." He looked uncomfortable. "When I hit it big in the
stock
market, I thought about hiring an agency to find you, but twenty years
had
gone by and ... all I could think of was that you were probably married
and happy ... I didn't think it would be ... positive."

   Julie swayed, and Bob automatically reached for her elbow to stabilize
her.

   "I need a drink," she whispered.

   =============================================

   Bob said he'd be right back. He ducked back into the office and
handed
the clerk the clipboard, keeping the form. "Cold feet, I guess," he
smiled. "We're going to talk about it."

   "Don't talk to her, mon," grinned the woman.    "Make sweet love to her
and everything will become clear."

   Bob, incapable of answering her, just ducked back out onto the
sidewalk,
where Julie was standing, exactly as he'd left her. They only had to go
a
few short steps to a bar, where he asked for, and got a table on the
veranda, in the corner furthest from all the other tables, under a shady
palm tree. He ordered for her, asking for a screwdriver.

   When the waiter left, they sat in uncomfortable silence.

   "So I married my cousin?" Julie said, her voice light and airy.
"Roger
was actually my cousin?"

   "Your first cousin," he said.

   "So let me get this straight," said Julie, staring off into the sky.
"I
grew up, not knowing who I really was, and moved halfway across the
country, where, of all the men in the world, I managed, completely by
accident, to pick my own first cousin to marry." Her eyes came back to
his,
unflinching. "And then, completely by another accident, I managed to end
up in another country, where I met and then fell in love with my own
father." She blinked. "It sounds like some twisted movie plot. We could
sell the rights to this and make a mint."

   The waiter arrived and set the drinks in front of them, then departed
silently. Bob slumped and stared at his, while Julie picked up her glass
and slipped delicately at the straw. Half her glass emptied in a series
of
almost noisy gulps.

   "I don't know what to say," he said.

   "This is crazy." Julie announced, licking her lips.   "It's just
impossible. It has to be another Arianna Phips."

   Bob said nothing.

   Julie finished her screwdriver and stood up. "I'm going for a walk,"
she said. He leaned forward. "Alone," she amended.

   "I'll wait here," he said.   "I guess."

   =============================================

   She was gone an hour and a half. Forty-five minutes into the wait,
Bob
almost got up and left, thinking that she wasn't coming back at all. But
he had no place else to go ... nothing else to do. He needed to think
too, and this was as good a place as any. Besides, if, by some chance,
she
did come back, he needed to be there. He had disappeared from her life
once ... from her perspective ... and even if she didn't want to see
him
any more, it needed to be her decision, and not his.

   Of course that brought back his own memories. He had been deserted
once, and it had ripped his heart out. Not so much because Arianna had
left him. That love had already died by then. But the loss of Julianna
had crushed him. She had just begun being able to assert her own
developing, individual personality, and every day she amazed him more.
He
had loved her with everything he had left in him, and her loss had almost
killed him.

   He couldn't equate Julie with that little girl, though. It was
impossible. Julie was a grown woman ... mature ... confident ... her
own person. And, while he had, at one time or another, fantasized about
what his daughter might be like, it had never been anything remotely like
what Julie was.

   She had been gone an hour when he took his first sip of his drink.

   ===============================================

   When he saw her walking toward him, his heart did flip flops. She was
walking confidently, her stride long and purposeful. Her head was up.
She
was gorgeous, and he felt a mixture of both pride and shame as his eyes
fastened onto her bouncing breasts.
   She walked up and sat down as if she were merely late for a dinner
engagement.

   "I asked them to bring us some food," she said. She reached for his
drink and took a sip, setting it back down in front of him.

   "Good walk?" he asked, feeling foolish almost instantly.

   "I think so," she said, her face betraying nothing about what was
going
on inside here head. "I guess it depends on what you say."

   "What I say." he repeated.

   "When I tell you what I thought about." she added.

   The waiter brought two more drinks, and took away Bob's unfinished
one.
He also brought appetizers, which Julie began to nibble on immediately.

   "So ..." said Bob, his heart in his throat. "What did you think
about?"
His primary fear was that she would side with Arianna, and tell him to
fuck
off.

   "I don't have a father," she said calmly.

   "What?" he asked, stunned.   Was she just going to disown him ...
pretend he didn't exist?"

   "I know that, based on what you've said so far, that there is evidence
to believe you are my biological father," she said firmly. "But the
truth
is that I never knew my father. I grew up without my father. As far as
I'm concerned, he never existed. I cannot think of you as my father. It
just doesn't work."

   Bob stared at her, unable to think of anything to say, one way or the
other.

   "And I know you as Bob Crandall. I don't know you very well, but
everything I DO know about you tells me that you are a good man ... a
decent man ... a man I HAVE fallen in love with. A lot has happened to
me
recently. I could very easily just fall apart. But I have decided that
is
not the life I want for me. I don't want to descend into depression and
self pity. I don't want to slink back to the United States and be in
therapy for the next twenty years."

   She drank half of her new drink, shuddered, and went on.
   "So, depending on what you think about all this, I have decided to
stay
here ... to stay with Bob Crandall, the man I love ... to swim in the
ocean, and learn to fish and dive and drive a boat."

   She drank the rest of her drink and sat back, waiting for Bob to say
something.

   "Um ..." he started.   "Uh ...   uh ...   wow." he finally forced out.

   "Do you love me?" asked Julie.

   "Yes!" he said instantly.

   "How do you love me?" she asked.

   "How?" he repeated.

   "I love you. I love you like a man, not a father," she said. "I
don't
even know HOW to love a man as a father. But I love you ... the man you
are. How do you love me?"

   He thought about that. His first thoughts were of what they had done
together since they met. He hadn't known who she was. Had he known,
things would have undoubtedly been very different.

   But he hadn't known.

   He had, as she had described, begun to love her as a woman ... a
woman
he loved being around ... a woman who turned him on ... a woman who fed
him as much emotion as he offered her. In all the ways he loved her, she
was a woman ... not his child.

   "I tried thinking of you as my daughter," he finally said. "While you
were gone." He took a sip of his drink while she waited. Her fingers had
twisted her napkin into shreds, but she said nothing. "I understand how
you can't think of me as your father, because I can't think of you as my
daughter either. I mean I KNOW you are, but it's just knowledge in my
head
... there's no emotion attached to it."

   He shook his head. "No, that's wrong. There IS emotion attached to
it,
but it's all jumbled up, and misty and unformed. When I look at you, the
woman I have known as Julie, the emotions I feel are very clear and
solid."


   "Do you love me?" she asked again.

   Now he understood what her question was really about.
   "Yes, but not in a way that is acceptable for a father to love his
daughter."

   "I don't care about that," she said.

   His mouth dropped open.

   "I told you, I can't think of you as my father. Maybe some day that
will change. But even if it does, I have fallen in love with YOU ...
not
my father. I have lost enough already. I will NOT lose you too."

   "So what do we do now?" he asked helplessly.

   She reached out and picked up the form, which had been lying face down
on the table for over two hours.

   "Do you have a pen?" she asked.

   "You're kidding," he said.

   "Do I look like I'm kidding?" she asked, her voice soft for the first
time since she had returned. "I told you, I saved my virginity for my
husband."

   The waiter approached with their food. Julie borrowed a pen from him,
and between bites, interviewed Bob, filling in his information in her own
hand on the form. Finally she was done. She folded the paper in a
tri-fold, and laid the pen on top of it. Then she finished her food.

   "It's too late to turn that in today," he pointed out.

   "I'll drop it off tomorrow," she said.   "I want you to take me
shopping."

   "OK," he said, still unsure as to whether things were going well, or
she
was just on automatic pilot of some odd kind.

   "I need to buy something ...   slinky," she said.

   "Slinky?" he smiled.

   "Yes," she said.   "I believe all men are driven crazy by slinky
outfits
in the bedroom?"

   "I believe you already have a slinky outfit," he said, his smile more
genuine now.

   "I can't wear the same old thing every time I try to inflame my man,"
she said sweetly. "Besides, you tore that one last time I wore it."

   "You could just go naked," he suggested.
   "I offered to do that, once upon a time, and you turned me down, as I
recall," she said archly. "Now you'll just have to get used to seeing me
in slinky outfits."

   ==============================================

   She picked out three, holding them up to her and asking Bob for his
opinion. "I can't try them on," she said. "I'm not wearing any
underwear."

   He felt his prick stiffening.

   With those in hand, she pulled him toward the register. She stopped
to
pick out a razor, designed for women, and some shaving gel.

   "I have to shave my legs tonight," she said sweetly. "And ... other
places ... places it's very hard for me to reach all by myself. I might
need your help, darling. You'll help me ... won't you?"

   =============================================

   Bob had been worried that, when push came to shove, he might not
actually be able to ... perform. His conscious mind, regardless of how
clinically he thought about it, insisted that this woman was, in fact,
his
daughter.

   He did help her touch up what she called her bikini cut, which was
ludicrous, since there was no trace of hair within three feet of where
she
had him remove the short stubble that had grown in since she prepared for
her honeymoon.

   That little exercise solved the problem. He performed quite well.     In
fact, he performed quite will several times that night.

   This time ...   she was the one who reached for the pillow to place
under
her hips.

				
DOCUMENT INFO
Shared By:
Categories:
Tags:
Stats:
views:4
posted:11/6/2012
language:Unknown
pages:90