Storiesonline.net
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                           The Honeymoon Blues
                               by Lubrican

Copyright© 2007 by Lubrican


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Description: 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 wacky 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 1st cons reluc inc oral pett preg
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Chapter 1


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 no-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 abandoned them 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, men who wanted more than she was willing to give, and who offered nothing in return except groping hands and whispered pleas to let them be her first. She had always retreated back into her solitary life, safe in her room, and later her apartment, with her books, and stuffed animals, and dreams.

She was relieved to get to college because that got her away from Hank, number three husband of her mother. But, once there, she soon learned that announcing she was still a virgin, and intended to remain that way until her wedding night, resulted in much the same thing she had suffered in High School. It got her only derision from her female acquaintances, 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.

There are far fewer men who want to date one for an extended period of time.

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.

And, her hopes seemed to be coming true, for 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've met so far haven't made 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, their 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.

There was, of course, some bitter with the sweet.

He insisted that she tell her mother about the wedding, and of course, her mother insisted on 'helping' 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 paid 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 gutter 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. Though 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 what he called "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.

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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 Just pack a few things to get by on for a day or two. I'll buy you all new clothing when we get there."

Then he'd had to get back to work, and hung up.

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. At least she didn't sag, like her mother's over-used mammaries.

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? I know how to make a man squeal too!" She leered again.

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.

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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 social caliber. They held themselves more aloof, drinking wine rather than the beer her own family gleefully swilled. The reception line was a trial, as her uncles and cousins enveloped her in their arms, lips that smelled of beer seeking hers, 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 borrowed one to park out front, and let them see me get out of it. I arranged for Jeff to use this one to actually leave in, though, 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 wheedled 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, and new clothes too. 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. "I need to save up my energy so I can make you squeal tonight."

Julie frowned, remembering how she had denied to her mother that she intended to "squeal".

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 stubs, 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, simply, "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 grabbed her carryon bag and ducked into the bathroom. She nervously dropped her clothing to the floor. 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 bottle. 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." She felt a stab of guilt. She didn't want to admit that another man had gotten it for her to wear for him.

"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. She had expected it to be stiffer... longer... but it looked about like a half-cooked hot dog, bending a little as it flopped back and forth. 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, flat 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 hard, instead of caressing it as 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-ibreated." 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.

"Yeah, Baby, play with it and get it hard for me," he breathed into her ear.

Her hand hit his prick, and she fumbled to grasp it. It felt warm in her hand. He also felt big, and long. She had no way of knowing he was only half erect due to the effect of all the alcohol on his system.

"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. Get it nice and hard and I'll pop that cherry for you," he panted.

Julie felt the thing in her hand stiffen significantly, and was amazed that it got even bigger. She also felt the glow of satisfaction as she made her new husband feel good. She stroked him rapidly and arched her neck to be able to actually see it. She watched in amazement as the tip of it disappeared into her hand, and then flashed back into view.

She was just in time to see, quite suddenly, long strings of milky white spurting from the tip as it popped out of 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 2


Roger was breathing normally, and had a smile on his face. Julie's 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 dug out her running shorts and tank top. She thought about the sports bra, but it was dark out. Besides, 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, starting with a sprint, to use up her unfulfilled sexual energy quickly. Now her deep 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 in the ankle, 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 ankles. She tried to suppress a moan of pain as he manipulated the joint that was injured.

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

"Up there," she pointed, feeling silly because it was dark. "The honeymoon cottage."

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

"You know my name?" she asked.

"Bob Crandall, at your service," he said. "I'm Roger'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.

Roger lay, still passed out on the bed, naked and snoring. She felt embarrassed.

"I wondered where he was," said Bob. "I was a little surprised you were out running, what with you two just getting here..." His voice trailed off. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to..." He trailed off again.

In the light, she saw he was blushing a little... his dark cheeks and forehead mottled. She also noticed, with a nervous twinge, that 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 you two... I mean..." his eyes flitted away from hers, only inches away and it was plain he was embarrassed. "... at least he he did his duty before he passed out," he finished uncomfortably.

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

"Oh... sorry," said Bob, his cheeks darkening again. "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 as bare as his chest. His penis jutted from a nest of brown hair, thick and half hard.

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

Julie felt the heat of her own 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. Another thing she noticed about this new penis was that it 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 with a plastic baggie of ice in his hand 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 again, but it wasn't the leer Julie was used to men doing around her.

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

"Ah, well, maybe tomorrow," said Bob, molding the bag of 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 on the plane 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. All those other people around would stare at me."

"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. In fact, I've been entirely too bold in several things I've said. I'd like to blame it on the surprise meeting we had, but maybe I'm just a man, like those others you mentioned."

"I don't mind," she said, shocked to find 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 liked this man... this honest man. "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 ten 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. And, there was nothing for her to do in the cottage at the moment. In fact, it was likely there wouldn't be anything for her to do until morning, if Roger's snores were any indication.

"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. We ARE both adults." 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.

"Why do I feel like kissing you?" she asked herself, unthinkingly saying it out loud.

"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 men," 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 KNOW 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 saddle. 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. Somehow, she felt even warmer and safer now than she had before, as once again, she was carried across the threshold to where her marriage bed lay.

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 husband's 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 just supposed to happen when one got married.

"OK," she said simply. "I'll call you when we're done." She was amazed at how easy it was to talk about something so intimate and private with this stranger.

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 3


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 Julie 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 had just cleared the horizon and was blindingly bright. 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 remembered Roger then, for the first time that morning, and felt guilty. She turned her head to see him, 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 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, usually as an appetizer. 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 message 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 phone 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. The staff had been overjoyed to get an unscheduled week of vacation.

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.

-------

Julie 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, splattering the floor, 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. She looked at his penis, which was shrunken and unimpressive, to her mind.

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 looked fantastic and you made me feel really good."

"Well, that's what happened." Julie sulked. "You felt good, and I got left out of it."

"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 could 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 jaw slack.

"We didn't KNOW, Bob," she wailed. "He never TOLD us he got married in London. Her name is Emily! 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 third 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. 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 miserable mess THIS was! He almost laughed, but got a grip. The first thing to do was delay this woman... this Emily woman... 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. Standing, she gave her head another unconscious flip, and her hair landed down her back again. She put on a robe, 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 excuse 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 the robe fell 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, and red, with 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 was 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. Feeling the chunks in the thick liquid, he automatically chewed them and swallowed convulsively. 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. Red pepper too, for that matter. In fact, he had used a LOT more. Mixed with the tomato juice, it had a delayed effect... enough delay for Roger to drain most of the glass before the first heat hit his mouth and throat. His mouth exploded in pain, and his throat tried its best to just close down.

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, and soaking his tender nasal passages.

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 over her head, tugging at it when she didn't, getting her arms through the holes. He couldn't help but notice her fabulous breasts as he pulled the shirt down over them. Her hands went to her hair, pulling it out of the back of her shirt automatically. Then he 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, doing 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 her 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 be disgusted with 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. Her overstressed mind grasped at thinking about him, instead of her immediate anguish.

"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 as her mind sought to think about anything but Roger and her marriage. "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.

She was in relatively good shape, all things considered, when Roger groaned and rolled over. He coughed and lifted his head, looking blearily around.

"What happened?" he coughed. He spit onto the floor and looked up at Bob. "What the fuck was in that?" he said angrily.

"How's your head, Roger?" asked Bob calmly.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?!" yelled Roger, levering himself to his hands and knees.

"How's your head, Roger?" asked Bob again.

Roger stood shakily, holding on to a nearby chair to keep his balance. He cocked his head.

"Fuck me!" he said softly. "My hangover is gone!" He looked at Bob with bewiderment. His mouth tasted horrible, but the agonizing pain was gone, both in his mouth and throat, and his head. He looked around for some water to wash his mouth out with and his eyes fell on Julie, who was just staring at him.

It all came rushing back into his brain. Emily was on her way here. He had been caught! Again, his eyes darted this way and that, looking for his doom.

"Bathroom," he coughed, staggering to the door. He closed it behind him and sounds of water came through the door.

"He didn't even say anything to me," Julie said, tears welling up in her eyes again.

"Stay calm," warned Bob. "Don't lose it now. When he comes back out we'll get some answers."

But they didn't have time to wait. Bob heard engine sounds, and the same taxi that had brought Julie and Roger to the cottage stopped outside. A door slammed and a woman's strident voice was heard.

"ROGER? ROGER CRANDALL? WHERE ARE YOU, YOU SON OF A BASTARD?"

The woman who stormed in through the door was wild looking, in no small part because she had done much the same thing Julie had done. She had boarded a plane and arrived with no luggage, still wearing the clothes she'd had on twenty-four hours before. She had a purse, that was wrapped around her wrist like it was intended to be used as a flail. Her hair was uncombed, her makeup smeared, and her temper was at full flame. Her eyes fell on Bob and her mouth opened, and then closed, as it because obvious she had, at first, thought he was Roger.

"WHERE IS HE?" she demanded.

Bob nodded toward the bathroom, where water sounds still came through the door.

"He's cleaning up," he said calmly.

The woman's gaze then went to Julie, who was looking at her in horror. The woman lurched toward her instantly, screaming, reaching for Julie's hair. Bob had expected screaming, but not an actual attack, and by the time he got to them Julie was pushing at the woman, who was literally snarling, spittle shooting from her mouth.

Julie gave a cry of distress as her hair was pulled viciously and Bob, not knowing how else to break them up, grabbed the pitcher of juice and flung it at them both. The icy deluge did what he had intended, and the woman jumped back, letting go of the hair as she cried out in rage.

"SHE DIDN'T KNOW!" shouted Bob, getting between the woman and Julie.

"Where is he?" the woman growled, her voice sounding dangerous. She completely ignored the staing of red that was soaking into her clothing and dripping down one arm.

"In there." Bob pointed at the door.

The woman went to the door, which was locked, and started pounding on it, screaming like a banshee. Bob had to pin her arms against her to make her stop, and even then she kicked at the door, swearing at the man inside. She kicked and wriggled, trying to break free, but Bob held her firmly, telling her to calm down and that he would not let her go until she did. She threatened him verbally then.

When she ran out of breath, Bob did some growling of his own in her ear.

"You are on private property, Miss, and, when I let you go, if you cause any more trouble I'm going to call the police. In fact, I think I'm going to call the police anyway, since you have attacked one of my guests, and attempted to destroy my property."

With a visible effort, the woman got hold of herself.

"You must be Emily," Bob said in her ear.

"Emily Crandall!" she blurted. "And Roger Crandall is my husband!"

"Well, why don't I get him out here, and we can all have a nice little CIVILIZED talk about all this, and then you can decide what to do," he urged, still holding her tightly.

She slumped.

"All right. Just let me GO!" She struggled again, but Bob held her tightly until she relaxed again.

"In control now?" he asked.

"Yes!" she said tightly.

He let her go and stepped back quickly, in case she tried to kick him again. But she stood there, panting, looking around.

"This woman did not know that Roger had another wife," said Bob. "She has been victimized in this just as much as you have."

"ROGER! YOU BASTARD!" Emily yelled at the door, but didn't attack it again. "COME OUT HERE AND FACE ME YOU BASTARD!"

When nothing happened, Bob went to the door and spoke through it, urging Roger to come on out, and telling him that delaying this resolution wouldn't do any good. Still nothing happened and Bob rattled the doorknob. Finally he felt along the molding around the door, until he found the little device that had come with the locking privacy knobs he had installed on the bathroom doors. He inserted the device into a small hole in the knob and pushed. Hearing a click, he turned the knob, which opened. It didn't take long to determine that the bathroom was empty, and the window was open. Looking out of the open window, Bob saw foot sized depressions in the sand outside. He turned to find Emily staring at him.

"He apparently went out the window," said Bob.

"Gutless bastard," Emily snarled. "Wait till I catch him!"

She ran for the door, screaming curses at Roger Crandall.

-------

Julie was a basket case again for the ten minutes it took for Emily to discover that the taxi, and apparently her husband with it, had gone. She was in almost as bad shape as Julie when she came back to the cottage, unable to decide what to do next. She was also much more subdued. Her anger had cooled to a hard little knot that showed in the set of her face.

"Could you call a cab for me please?" she said, her voice tight.

Bob looked at his watch.

"I can, but I doubt you can make the next plane out. I suspect Roger will just make it."

"Just call me a cab... please," said Emily. "I apologise for my behavior."

"It's been a rough day for everybody," said Bob, picking up the phone and making the call.

While they waited Bob gestured to the table.

"Anybody hungry?" he asked hopefully. Neither woman made any comment.

"He's MY husband," said Emily, finally.

Julie looked up. Her tears had dried up, but there were still streaks on her cheeks.

"You can have him," she said dully. "I'll get an anullment as soon as I can."

"My prenupital agreement predates yours!" said Emily aggressively.

"I didn't sign a prenupital agreement," said Julie heavily. She looked up and her eyes flashed. "I don't want him OR his money. Why YOU still want him is beyond me, but he's yours. I can't say it's been a pleasure meeting you."

Julie turned away from the woman, who looked startled, and then a little hurt by the dismissal in Julie's stance.

"I told them to pick you up at the office," said Bob gently. "You might want to go up there and wait. There will be another plane out in three hours, but then there won't be another one until tomorrow morning."

Emily stiffened. "Yes! I must get back to my children. I must find him. He WILL support us!" She turned to go and, with the door open, turned back and addressed Julie. "I'll make him pay," she said, as if she expected Julie to be thankful about that. "I'll make him pay for what he did to... us."

That small reference to "us" was the only accession she she ever made to Julie's plight.

The last they saw of her was her marching stiffly across the sand, toward the office.



-------

Chapter 4


Bob had no idea what to do for Julie. She sat, slumped in her chair, looking at the floor. She was all cried out, for now at least. He looked at the breakfast he had worked so hard on. It was cold now. But he hadn't eaten yet, so, for lack of anything else to do, he piled all the quiche and macaroni on one plate, put it in the microwave and heated it up. The ham would be fine cold. He glanced out of the side of his eyes at Julie while he puttered around, and saw her doing the same thing, watching him.

Once the food was warmed up, he set two places, redistributed the food, and sat down and began to eat.

Julie watched him for a minute, her eyes hooded.

"Men!" she snorted finally. "All they think about is food 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."

"First I'm nice, and now I'm sweet," he moaned in mock agony. "Next you'll be talking about how nice it would be to be friends. I know I told you I don't date, but come on. Cut a guy a little slack here." He wiped away an imaginary tear. "If you keep talking like that people will think I'm gay!"

"Men!" she snorted again. Still, she didn't smile.

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 handed her her fork and put a napkin on her lap for her. He asked if she wanted coffee, and when she shook her head he handed her one of the glasses of juice he had poured. She looked down at her stained top, which was still wet.

"I hope it goes better on the inside than the outside," she said dryly.

Bob felt the first hint of hope. If she could find humor in the situation, she might pull through all right.

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?"

"The memories I want to get away from aren't tied to this cottage," she snorted.

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 tipped the half full glass of juice. Her convulsive grab to keep it from falling just pulled it toward her and 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.

"At least my top and shorts match now," she sighed. "OK... 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.

He picked her up again, as he had before, and started out the door with her.

"My clothes!" she said.

"They could use a good rinse," he responded.

Then, when he got her in the water, and she was standing on one leg, he pulled at her shirt.

"I thought we were rinsing my clothes," she said, smiling shyly.

They'll rinse better off of you," he said, in what he hoped was a business-like fashion. She raised her arms, and went under the water, pulling herself out of the shirt and leaving it in his hands. She broke the water with her head held back, straightening her hair. Bob balled up the shirt and threw it toward the shore. It landed short of the beach and he started to go get it.

"Here!" she called, and when he turned she threw him her shorts. They landed in his face and she laughed. To pay her back, while he got her shirt and took it to the sand, he took off his shorts. He was relieved to feel his penis flaccid.

Her eyes were on it as he returned, watching it until it was covered by water, but she said nothing.

When he aproached her again, she reached for him and resumed the instinctive position she had the night before, 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 probably be sore for a week or so," 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 broke up?" 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."

He grinned. "That's a little better than nice and sweet. You're making improvements." He grinned, but saw she was serious. He sighed. "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. "It's a little soon to be trusting men so easily."

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 around and up, to cup 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.

"Why would he even do that?" she asked, her face buried in his shoulder. He didn't have to ask her what she meant.

"For some men, the chase is everything," he said softly. "They can't be satisfied unless they make another conquest. That would be my guess."

"And because I wouldn't let him... he had to marry me?" She sounded confused.

Bob understood that confusion. It didn't make any sense to him either.

"Something like that," he said, rocking her in the water unconsciously.

"He got me perfume," she said. "He said when he smelled it, it reminded him of me."

"Mmmm" said Bob, just making a sound to keep her talking.

"That Emily woman was wearing the same perfume," she said, her voice choking a little. "I smelled it on her when she attacked me."

"I'm sorry," he said, helpless to say anything more.

"To think that all he wanted was my virginity."

"Maybe it wasn't even that," said Bob, letting his mind roam free. "I mean, if that was the whole goal, he would have at least stayed sober to actually get it."

She seemed to shudder, and then she looked up. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger.

"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. "I know that's not what you want to hear right now, but I feel a compulsion to be as honest with you as I can be."

"I thought Roger was being honest with me," she moaned. "How will I ever know if a man is being honest with me or not?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I guess all you can do is trust your heart and hope for the best."

"I had a feeling before the wedding... my mother said it was just nerves. She said she always felt that way, and I even thought about the fact that she had made such miserable choices in men. How am I supposed to know what my heart wants?"

"I wish I had all the answers for you," he sighed. "But I don't. All I can promise you is that I'll tell you the truth. You won't know if it's the truth or not, but that's the best I can do."

She wiggled in his arms.

"At least one good thing happened. I got you for an uncle, even if it's only temporary."

She lifted her head again and faced him, looking into his eyes. Then she buried her face in his shoulder again.

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

"I'm still 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. "except 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. It felt hot under his feet.

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.

Roger's vomit still lay in a small, smeared pool on the floor. The faint odor permeated the whole room. 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. He knew she was still emotionally unstable, but the situation was different now. If nothing else, she needed some kind of enjoyable experience to offset, in some small way, the pain she was suffering... 

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. The injured ankle gave way, and she fell back, moaning.

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 for her wedding. 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. He also knew she craved love... had been denied true love all these years, whether it was by her own design or that of unsuitable males. She needed love right now, and it was important that, if he gave her anything, it included love. He had resisted falling in love... for decades now.

"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 lip 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 honeymoon 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 screamed, thrusting up at him with her hips, and almost making the tip slide back out of her. The passion in her scream 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 even more tightly than her arms, 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 as her breath rushed out, like she was blowing dust off his face. 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, as it washed over her face and 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 rich 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. His prick was still making small spastic clenches, but Bob sensed there was nothing left to push out of him and into her. He 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 5

Julie had always 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.

The languid rising and falling she had felt slowly transposed into the feel of her body, lying on a firm, warm surface, which 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 understanding 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 fully 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 herself pressed into the mattress, 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 anymore."

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

With 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.

"Ohhhhh," she groaned. "It feels like you're splitting me in two."

"You were hasty," he said. "Youth is always so hasty."

"It hurts ... but it also doesn't hurt. I LOVE it. 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 rigid shaft.

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 leaning forward 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 penis. She lay there and began to shake in a way that he suddenly realized was quiet sobs.

"You okay?" He stroked her back.

"I don't know," she hiccupped.

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

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

"Still thinking about Roger?"

She laughed, snorting.

"Okay, then ... what?"

"What if I fall in love with you?" she asked, her voice tiny. "What if I AM in love with you? This is all so confusing!"

"It would be silly for you to fall in love with me, 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 would be better for him than for her.

"You'd deny me the opportunity to be 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 by any of them, in the way she communicated to him that she wanted him. Her whole focus was on what they were doing at this moment. He had her undivided attention, and she demanded the same from him. The rigidity this caused as she moved on him, brought back memories of younger years. He rolled her over again, to land on top of her, this time with his hands beside her breasts.

As he watched her having fun, she lay 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. "The pill isn't always successful at protecting a woman."

"Yes ... you should," she answered, raking his back with her fingernails and crossing her legs over his. "Besides, I'm not on the pill. Ro..." she didn't finish his name. "I was going to try to have children right away."

"Why would you chance that with me?" 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 to her.

-------

He had to go back to the beach to get their clothing, and then he rinsed it in fresh water and put it in the dryer. She stayed in his bed, laying there languidly, feeling happy. She dozed a little bit, having had only a few hours of sleep the night before. Bob stared at her naked body lying in his bed, her pussy still weeping his thick spend. The sight of her ... of his sperm clogging the opening of her bald pussy, caused him to have yet another erection.

This one he ignored. Instead, he got their clothing ready and then woke her, insisting that she get dressed in her running outfit. 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 mood, 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 paying attention to.

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 pushed 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, dessert 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 had 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 would 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, nodding at her luggage. "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?"

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. "Here, carry these please," she said, handing him the bags with her new purchases. He gave out an obviously overdone groan as he managed to incorporate the handles into that of the luggage. When he stood up he looked like bag lady who had no cart to put her things in might look.

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 anymore 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, and other bags, 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 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 thread 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's fifth husband 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 had truly taken her by complete surprise, 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, had 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 anymore 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 said would drive a man wild, 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.

"Okay, 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 who might like it."

She actually heard his gulp as he swallowed.



-------

Chapter 6


Julie sighed as she stretched and 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, either because she was tipsy, or 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, with the panties still on, but pulled aside, 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 pouring 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 surprised 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 his weight being gone. 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, and that she had told Bob about that... invited him... TEASED him about fertilizing her. 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.

"It's OK... 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 experienced 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.

That jarred her consciousness again. Marriage was something to be worked toward... planned... anguished over... Wasn't it? Her mind flitted back to the way she had methodically worked... and planned... and anguished. It had all been ludicrous. It had almost been contrived somehow. Now, his simple proposal burst into her consciousness like the brilliant light at the end of a dark tunnel. She thought ironically of how often her mother had made this decision, and wondered briefly if it had been as easy for her mother as it suddenly was for her. Then she pushed that out of her mind and looked at him.

"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 fouled things up with one woman 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... OK... ours, 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. There were indications that there might even be more marriages, in other countries.

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 using the return ticket that was still in her carryon bag, and using the one Roger had left behind, for Bob, who insisted on escorting her. He went everywhere she went, almost pathetic in his attempt to keep her in sight.

It made her feel wonderful.

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, and the first thing she did when they got there was drag him, not unwillingly, into her bed, a bed no man had ever graced. Most of her things had already been 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.

-------

The next disaster 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 in the Bahamas. 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 the same information she was used to.

"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. We are not so formal here in the islands."

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 with 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 almost 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 farthest 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."

It wasn't delivered like a joke. It was delivered like she had to say something to break the tension. It didn't work.

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 sipped 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. She would need help getting through this latest horrible catastrophe. 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. And now, like magic, he had found her again.

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 wasn't a wreck. He thought involuntarily about that old saying: Pressure makes diamonds.

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 her 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."

-------

In what Bob would forever call "The slinky outfit store", 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. He also thought it was funny because she didn't actually own a bikini yet.

That little exercise solved the problem, though. 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.


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The End
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Posted:  2007-01-22
Last Modified: 2010-10-29 / 09:26:41 am
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