Gail Sails With Gia

If you haven't read our first posting(s) I'll tell you what we look like. Firstly, this is all real. I'm 5'10, just turned 32, brown hair and eyes and in reasonably trim shape. I met my wife while in university and we are married seven years now. Gail is exceptionally beautiful and very shy, which belies her intelligence and soft spoken manner. She is 5'7" with a young girls figure at 30, small hips, long very shapely legs, small breasted, a picture perfect behind, light brown hair that blondes in the sun and just the loveliest large green eyes.

I intended to write three stories covering the whole of our holidays in France in 2000 but, with my workload mounting, time crept upon us and I only finished part of the holiday story. Our next holiday arrived, September 2001, and I decided to simply continue from there.
During our stay on the Cote Azur in 2000 I believe we had both sexually experimented more than during the whole of our marriage, maybe our whole life. Never would I have dreamed that my shy and reserved wife had such a voracious sexual curiosity. I always thought her beautiful but never the sexual temptress, and oh how wrong I was. Just being herself was her charm, and it was obvious that the men we encountered during our holiday found Gail's shy and unassuming manner very appealing. I was surprised, at myself as well. I had never even thought of another woman before, and now I had had liaisons with Françoise on two occasions. Liaisons which I believe Gail does not know about, and for which I feel no guilt.

We arrived in Nice and rented a small Renault at the airport then drove to the ancient village of Eze. We were referred to this small (fifteen room) Hotel that had a spectacular view of the sea from every room. We checked in, exhausted from seventeen hours of traveling, and immediately bedded down for the night.

Our plans this year were for one or two nights in Eze while we relaxed and rested from the trip, then up the coast to Monaco for a few days, and then Portofino in Italy, for the rest of our vacation. During a lustful evening last year we met an American couple, Peter and Phyllis, whom we wrote about. I had stayed in touch with them and we knew they would be in Monte Carlo, where we planned to meet. . Peter informed us he now had interest in a company in Viareggio and had rented an apartment in Monte Carlo in order to keep track of his business.

The next morning we had breakfast on the balcony of the hotel restaurant, outdoors, with a magnificent view of the mountains and the sea below.. I noticed a few of the guests eyeing Gail and, with one she reciprocated but managed to keep the exchange subdued. We were happy to be back in France. Early September, we were told, is a slightly older crowd with warm days and cool nights. I think we were both secretly wondering if this year would be as full as last year and, I personally was excited and frightened by the thought.

After breakfast Gail dressed in a short white linen skirt with a beige armless silk blouse yielding to her form. She looked like an angel, all soft and flowing. No brassiere and the filmiest nude-colored mesh underpants. She watched me as she slipped into her panties. Her entice Rian smile upon her face.

We planned to drive down the coast to Cannes, do some shopping, have a drink at the Carlton, and then return to Eze, stopping along the way at the places we remembered from last year, including the Hotel Du Cap.

We arrived in Cannes and spent the rest of the morning shopping. We walked past old Chalets, modern apartment buildings, and then into the Carlton Hotel where we commandeered a small couch in a corner of the grand lobby trying to look like we belonged. Gail had a white wine and I tried Pernod, we touched hands often while watching the guests come and go. We left planning to lunch on the beach but we had only walked a few streets from the hotel when we stopped at a small chic looking restaurant for lunch. When the Maitre De took us to our table we opted to sit on a bank, side by side, looking out into the square. A row of tables was against the windows with the patrons facing inward, looking toward us. An elderly lady exquisitely dressed sat across from us and smiled as we sat down, then went back to reading her magazine. A man in an open collar silk shirt sat at a table to the right of the lady. I had noticed when we entered that he looked like Antonio Banderas.

After a short time I noticed Antonio's constant attention to our table. The table cloths were hanging over the table edge but our being seated on the bank lowered us a bit, and I felt certain his attention to our table was more Gail's lovely legs than a passing interest. When I later asked her she admitted he was getting a show.

We had salads and afterwards ordered another drink. The elderly lady across the way had smiled and said something to Gail which we could not quite hear. I leaned forward, "excuse me" I questioned "You both look fit because you eat fit", she repeated, in the very most proper British accent. Not knowing what to respond, I said, "Yes, thank you", Gail just smiled.
We continued through lunch and our third glass of wine, enjoying just being together, unfettered, no cell phone. All year long, at home, we would go places and do things but always shadowed by some unspoken decorum. Here we were again on the Cote Azur, and for some reason we both felt a degree of abandon..

The lady persisted and soon, because of the inconvenience of speaking across the aisle, we asked if we could join her as we finished our drinks. It appeared that Lady Tamara was British, lived permanently in Cannes, and that she and her deceased husband had been going to the south of France since 1965. She knew everything and anything about the area, and all the gossip about everyone. We heard the local version, she called it the "real version" of Princess Grace's auto accident, the reasons why the "Americans were dominating the film festival," and the names of the "real players on the Riviera." When we were ready to leave we bid Antonio goodbye and we left with Lady Tamara. We walked together to the end of the block and since we were heading in the opposite direction I started my departure speech.

Tamara touched my arm and softly said, "Monsieur Hadrian, you don't leave a Lady on the street, I live there," and she pointed to a building about two blocks away, and just continued walking. And I dutifully followed while Gail chuckled.

Tamaras building was directly across from the beach, it looked unremarkable at first glance but that judgment later changed. A doorman stood at the ready to open the entry door for her. Tamara turned to Gail and said, "Would you like to come up for a drink?" Gail immediately responded, "I'd love to, I'm curious to see the view and what it's like living here." Tamara smiled and patted Gail's arm. "I thought so, that's the way we ladies think."

We spent a long while with Tamara. Her apartment was large airy, filled with photos and art objects, drawings and paintings, it was simply magnificent. We looked at original paintings by Henri Lebasque, of another artist we did not know but dated 1905, and more. Though we didn't know then, we have since looked up the names and some of the paintings have great value. She had pictures with famous people, mostly political and she explained who they were and where the pictures were taken. She had lived history, and was full of great tales, and an elderly charm bursting with wit.

We sat on the balcony and looked down on the beach. Lounging chair upon chair, spread across the beach before us, everyone topless. There was a telescope on the balcony but I didn't dare ask to use it. When we mentioned that we would be moving along the coast to Eze, then to Portofino, she began mentioning a litany of places and people to meet. "Oh my dear Gail," and as an afterthought, "and Monsieur Hadrian", she said while shaking a single finger in emphasis. "I know just the most divine person for you to meet in Monte Carlo. His name is Giancomo. He is an Italian businessman who sails Monte Carlo late every summer. If I can find him I shall tell him to call you." She rose to get a pencil to note our telephone and room number in Eze.

From when we first met her Tamara continuously commented on our youth, Gail's beauty, and flirted outrageously with us both. This interesting Lady of probably seventy some odd years was as youthful in her thinking as forty years ago, and we were delighted to have met her. When We finally rose two hours later we regretted that we had to leave. We felt we had made a friend, with whom, by the way, we still regularly communicate by letter and by telephone. We drove back through Juan les Pain, stopped at the Du Cap for drinks at the bar, reminiscing some, and chatting with another couple and the bartender who remembered us from last year.

We had booked an evening court and arrived back at the hotel in time to play our tennis game. While Gail was donning her tennis gear I stopped behind her and reached around to fondle her breasts. "Were you trying to give Antonio a show?" I questioned. She laughed. "No, not at first; I knew that was on your mind. But, he was pretty intense. I finally crossed my ankles and I know he could see clear to my panties. I guess I was enjoying it too. When we sat at Tamara's table he was giving me steamy looks like he was angry he couldn't see up my skirt any longer. " "I didn't notice", I commented. Gail smiled and touched my face, "You never do, my love. Let's get on with this game."

Back in our room we showered, ordered white wine sprítzers, and lounged around half naked, bidding our time before dinner. Soon enough we started touching and became engrossed in a low key touch and talk session that grew in intensity. Being back on the Cote Azur had a relaxing effect and we started to discuss the last year's events. Truth be told, during the year at home we actually spoke very little about the things that had happened during our holiday. We barely discussed my feelings as I watched her and Peter making love. She would blush visibly and I could tell she was uncomfortable so I'd let it drop. She confessed, again reminded me I should say, of how jealous she was seeing Phyllis suck me to orgasm. The inconsistency did not pass unnoticed. We continued to touch and when I asked her about Andrew touching her, we had started to make love.

We were interrupted by the telephone ringing. "Allo, Monsieur Hadrian?" (the voice added my last name). It was a cultured British English but he had an accent. "This is he speaking." I replied. "My name is Giancomo, my good friend Tamara called me today to introduce me to you." "Yes," I responded. "We were with her this afternoon. How do you do." And so began our brief chat. He said he knew Chile and considered it one of the worlds prettiest countries… that He considered buying land there… how pleased he was that we had spent time with Tamara… his father had been a good friend of her husband, and more. "I understand that you will be in Monte Carlo on Friday", he commented. "Yes, we are planning on spending a few days there." I said. He continued. "We are celebrating this weekend in Monaco. I am having an early cocktail party on Friday and later there is a formal reception at the Fort Antoine Theatre. On Saturday we will be in Portofino returning on Sunday. I would like to invite you and your wife. Can I count on you to join us?" "Well that sounds magnificent Mr. …" He interrupted, "No please, Giancomo, only Giancomo." "Ok Giancomo, I'm called Rian." I replied. Would you mind if I took a moment to inform my wife?" "Of course. Please do." I started to explain it to Gail. She had partly heard the conversation and figured out what we were talking about and she was excited and laughing. "I can't believe it", Gail said. "Tell him yes, we will be there. But Where? Back on the telephone I said, "Giancomo, we thank you very much. We'd be honored to attend." "Excellent, Hadrian, I look forward to meeting you." "Likewise Giancomo. Should we make reservations in Portofino?" After a pause Giancomo said, "Not necessary Hadrian. I am inviting you on board my boat. Friday through Sunday. We will sail to Portofino." "Oh." Was all I could respond, and Gail looked at me wondering if something had gone wrong. "Hadrian?" "Yes Giancomo." "Later this night I will have someone deliver all the details to the concierge at your hotel, as well as the invitation to the Reception at Fort Antoine."

In Monte Carlo we checked into the Mirabeau Hotel, and arranged with the concierge to return our car. We were escorted through hushed carpeted hallways to a beautiful room overlooking the sea, with a magnificent panorama of Monte Carlo below. We were captivated with the view and choose to stay in the room after we settled in, and while waiting to leave in a couple of hours for our weekend yacht rendezvous. We wound up on the bed toe to head, with me massaging her feet. A favorite pastime that Gail has delegated for me. While massaging her feet we chatted wondering what to expect this evening and this weekend. "Wouldn't it be nice to play at the famous Monte Carlo Tennis Club?, on clay." I asked. "I'll see if we can get on a court on Monday." Gail smiled. "I'll bet you won't have much fun playing with me on clay." Too good an opportunity to pass I said, "I assure you my love, I'm ready to play with you anywhere. But" I paused "Let's make a bet. I'll spot you 15 – love on your serve, and 30 – love on my serve, you choose which one." Gail studied me a moment, "What's the bet?" I thought for a moment. "If you win we will use our savings to get the ski apartment you want." Her face literally lit up. "Can we afford it?" she asked. "No, but we'll figure out something, as long as we stay reasonable." "You've got a bet." she replied, glowing in the process. "Oh, and what do you get if you win." That said with a coy look like she already knew what I really wanted. I pondered the question, taking my time before I answered. "I want to win… whatever I wish." She smiled, lovingly. "It's a deal," she said. Then she had a thoughtful look. "You know Ri, I'd like this vacation to be about us, no Peter's, no girls ravishing you." My heart was beating loudly in my ears. She said girl's, plural, did she know about Francoise? I was taken aback, or was I reading too much into everything she said. Regardless of the mixed feelings, it made me proud, Gail wanted this vacation to center around us and I would be thrilled to receive her total attention.

We were both excited over our invitation to spend the weekend on a yacht. The invitation arrived late so we received it the next morning. Every detail was covered including a full itinerary for the weekend so that it was easy for Gail and me to prepare what to wear. After the cocktail party we were invited to a reception at Forte Antione and the dress was formal. Actually it said attire was 'Smoking'. Fortunately we had planned on having a formal night in Monte Carlo so Gail had an evening gown and I too was prepared for the occasion with a new tuxedo. We packed the clothing we needed for the weekend and readied ourselves for the cocktail party.

Our taxi passed into the Monte Carlo Marina and we drove from quay to quay until we found strip C. I must admit I was taken up with all the luxury, it was like living in a movie set. We passed sailing boats and yachts, some looking like they were 200 feet long, some modern and sleek in design looked like they were moving while standing still. We arrived at the 'Gabbiano Bianco' as another couple was walking up the gangway, a sailor-suited porter trailing behind them. The sailor came back down the gangway when he saw our taxi stopped alongside. We paid the taxi and approached the yacht. The sailor, just a boy, introduced himself as Mauricio and asked our name in heavily accented English. "Oh yes signore" he said smiling "you are the coppia we are waiting for." Gail and I looked at one another wondering about his saying 'the coppia' which sounded like 'copy' in our language. As I approached the ship I looked from side to side. I thought it was a good 200 feet long but later learned it was 136 feet. We were very impressed.

The gangway led to the back of the boat where a group of a dozen people were standing around chatting with drinks in their hands. Directly at the top of the gangway a ten or twelve foot section of the boat was open except for a canvas cover. Two highly polished doors with large panels of beveled-glass were opened wide and led to a large living room area.

Then surprise of all surprises. Just inside the living room door stood our friends from last year, Peter and Phyllis. Peter looked terrific in a white jacket and dark blue shirt and he wore an ascot they were facing away and only turned to see who was following the porter. When Peter saw us he raised his arms so quickly that his drink splashed, and with the broadest of smiles he said, "Ri, I simply don't believe this." Phyllis turned too and stood staring open mouthed for a few moments.

After handshakes, hugs and greetings Peter took the time to explain to the two couples standing with him that we were friends from last year and he introduced us. "I thought we would be seeing you next week." I commented. Peter smiling broadly, "We thought the same, but what a pleasant surprise." So per-chance was the meeting that we exchanged exclamations for a good five minutes.

The young sailor was standing beside us and the moment he saw a lapse in our conversation he beckoned with his hand to Gail and said, "Signora," signaling us to follow him. We took leave of Peter and Phyllis and followed the steward.

We descended one level on a rather steep staircase that opened into a narrow carpeted corridor. Halfway down the corridor the steward opened a stairwell door and retrieved our luggage which he had placed in the stairwell, and we continued to our cabin at the end of the corridor. He opened the polished door to our cabin.

A huge king size bed faced us with matching lamps on the wall and small matching end tables on both sides of the bed. A two person couch was in the corner on the starboard side with a round coffee-table and a bottle of champagne in a cooler. The tablecloth was maroon and beige as was the rest of the color coordinated cabin. The walls doors and bed frame were done in a rich wood finish and a huge colorful watercolor print of St. Paul de Vence was above the bed. Both forward sides of the room were paneled in dark louvered double doors. One side led to a closet, and on the other side to a full sized bathroom with bathtub, WC, and bidet. It was spectacular, much more then a movie set. Gail looked at me with a gleam of delight in her eyes. Mauricio was smiling at our obvious approval of the room as he placed our luggage on the rack and left. "It's amazing that people actually live like this," I said. Gail nodded, adding, "This would be a fun way to take a holiday." "Don't rush," I said. "Wait to see if we can take the sea."

Gail started to unpack our clothes while I explored the cabin. I had to stand on a chair to look out the portholes on both sides of the cabin. I walked into the closet, then the bathroom. One wall to the right of the bathtub was paneled in wood. An indented panel looked like a door but when I pulled on the bronze fixture it didn't move. However, when I pushed it slid into the wall and there was another door. I pushed down on the handle and it opened into another WC with a Shower stall, and beyond that a cabin, smaller than ours but beautifully decorated in blues and beige. I guessed that the bathtub was occasionally shared between cabins.

We unpacked our formal clothes to allow them to unwrinkle in the three hours we had before the reception. When we were dressed for the cocktail party we made our way back through the corridor. Everyone was wrapped in conversation, some animated, all so chic but somehow comfortable with each other. That no one noticed us actually helped us both relax. We made our way back toward the open door where Peter was standing in a large group, attentively listening to a lady, while sipping his drink. Halfway there someone took my arm, "You are Hadrian. No?" "Yes" I replied, to a gentleman in a perfectly fitted dark blue blazer. "I'm Giancomo," he said smiling and offering his hand. I shook hands with our host, smiling in a genuine show of pleasure and appreciation without his noticing we were novices. "Hello Giancomo", I said. And I placed my left hand on his arm, trying not to look the novice. I reached for Gail and with my arm on her waist said, "May I present my wife Gail." Gail offered her hand leaning forward. Our host smiled, released my hand and while holding Gail's hand said, "Sorry Gail, this is our custom," and he stretched to kiss her cheek with simple correctness. I noticed Gail's upper neck getting red, she was shy and it was usual for her blush when she met new people. She placed her arm in mine responding to Giancomo and said, "I can't begin to tell you how pleased we are to have been invited. Thank you so much." "Not to be thanked", our host replied. "Tamara said you were a delight. She knows. I thank you for coming." I added, "I understand this is a very special weekend." "It is" Giancomo added, "you will see". He turned to his right and gestured, "May I introduce you to my friend, Gabriela?" Standing just a step or two away from Giancomo during this discourse was a woman of about thirty, tall, strikingly beautiful and perfectly poised. She smilingly watched the exchange. I felt a tremor when she gave me her hand. We chatted a few minutes then he bade us to go mingle with the party, we would have time to chat later.