Annie and Alex Ch. 01

"Alex, I don't know what to say other than I love you. I know you don't believe it and I know I haven't demonstrated it, but I really do."

She continued: "I asked my parents what I should do, and they were at a loss. They've been married for more than 50 years, and I don't think either of them ever considered cheating. They both told me they were much more worried about you than me. Dad said that you were the best guy that I could have hoped to marry, and that I had flushed 20 years of happiness straight down the toilet. I think he wants to disown me.

"Mother is disappointed in me, but she urged me -- and you -- to try our best to move on. She knows it will take a long time to heal the hurt I have caused you. However, she told me that, when she broke her leg a couple of years ago, she was surprised that the doctors made her begin rehabilitation the next day. She advises us to act quickly if we want to heal quickly."

Just then, the waiter came with our drinks. Annie smiled weakly and took a sip of her negroni, as if it would provide some needed courage.

Annie then said: "Mother and I talked a lot about our marriage and what makes you happy. She told me the only way I could win you back was to truly dedicate my life to making things better. I don't need to work; we already have more money than we can spend, and I am going to inherit a bundle eventually. What I need is to be married to my husband. So, my new job starts tonight."

As she sat at the table, she slowly unbuttoned and removed her raincoat to reveal that she was wearing a purple silk bustier, so tight and low-cut that her breasts spilled out over the top. The bustier would have provided remarkable cleavage to a woman who was an A-cup, but Annie was a 34C. The effect was just short of breathtaking.

I couldn't take my eyes off my wife's tits. However, a horrible thought became lodged in my head, and Annie replied as if she could read my mind.

"No, Alex," she reassured me. "I bought this today, after I left my parents' house. I can show you the receipt. I bought this for you. Fred will never see me in this, because I will never, ever see Fred again. That I promise."

Then she stood up and slowly turned around. What I thought was a bustier was really a corset, complete with laces all the way up the back. There was a two-inch gap where the laces held together the two sides of the garment, revealing a strip of bare skin extending from Annie's shoulders to the top of her low-rise jeans.

Annie turned again to face me and stepped backwards, so that I could see the full effect. I stared at the bottom and saw boots with a spiky kitten heel, then the skin tight-black denim jeans and finally the purple corset that just barely covered her full breasts.

After sitting down again, she said: "I called Mother after I went shopping and told her what I had bought. She told me that I would probably look like a whore, but she hoped for your sake that I at least looked like an attractive, high-priced whore." Annie paused and then asked: "So, what do you think, Alex?"

I didn't know what to say. I think I smiled, and I was relieved that the waiter came at that precise moment to take our orders.

The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur. It's difficult to listen to your wife when all you want to do is to stare at her tits. She looked like a goddess, an R-rated one at that. I was waiting for her nipples to pop out over the top of the corset; so I could increase the rating to an X.

We chatted not about our problems, but about the success of my project and my promising future at my company. It was a safe conversation. But as the waiter began to clear our plates, Annie changed topics.

"Alex, I know you're confused. I know you are wondering what's going to happen once we leave the restaurant. I think it is best if we walked home and then went to our respective rooms for the rest of the night. I did not dress like this to take advantage of you. You are in a fragile state, and I understand that. Let's just take one day at a time and see if we can get our lives back to normal."

And, so we did what she said. Once in 'my' room, I quickly stripped off and began jerking my cock furiously, all the time thinking of the corset and Annie's tits. I do not normally masturbate and it had been weeks since Annie and I had sex, so I quickly shot a huge load all over the sheets. I cleaned up the best I could using my boxers as a rag and, for the first time in four days, fell soundly asleep.

I awoke on Sunday morning to the smell of bacon and eggs frying. I put on some clothes and went to the kitchen to see Annie cooking. But it was what she was wearing that I really noticed. She had on a semi-transparent cream-coloured blouse that she usually reserved for special occasions, along with a pair of tight brown jeans and brown suede shoes with 4-inch heels, higher than any I thought she owned. On closer observation, I could not see a bra strap under the blouse, and when she turned around to say good morning, I saw that only three buttons were fastened, so that her neckline fell open beneath her boobs and her nipples poked through the thin fabric. She looked rather like Amy Adams in "American Hustle".

She looked almost as sexy as she did the previous evening.

"Good morning," she said cheerily. "Even though we had a big dinner last night, I know you have not been eating well lately, so I thought you would like a nice breakfast." Usually, we just had toast and cereal on a Sunday morning.

We ate together, with Annie supplying 90% of the conversation. She gave me a rundown of the morning headlines and the weather forecast for the day. Annie had already spoken to her mother, and we chatted about her parents' trip to China the following month. In other words, she talked a lot about not much at all, exactly what was appropriate in our situation.

I offered to clear the dishes, but she told me to stay seated. "If I am going to dedicate myself to your happiness, I should start by doing the dishes." She later returned to the table and we both leafed through the various sections of the Sunday newspaper. Finally, she spoke again.

"Aren't you playing tennis with Thomas this afternoon?" she asked. Once every two weeks, my best friend Thomas and I played tennis at an indoor club. We were both lousy at tennis, but we were equally lousy, so our matches not only provided exercise but a bit of healthy competition.

"While you are playing, I may do some more shopping," she said. "I will have my phone with me, so feel free to call me whenever you wish." In other words, I had her permission to check up on her.

Thomas picked me up a couple of hours later, and we drove to the club. As we were changing in the locker room, Thomas asked: "What's wrong, Alex? You have not said one word. That's not like you. I thought the project was going well."

"The project went great," I replied.

"So what's the matter?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," I said.

Thomas smiled kindly. "Annie called me yesterday. She would only tell me that you were really depressed and that you needed a friend. So, here I am for you, Alex."

"What else did Annie say?" I asked.

"Not a lot, but based on my massive knowledge of women and the fact that she called me, my guess is that the two of you are having problems and it's probably her fault."

I laughed for the first time in days. Thomas is as gay as Elton John. If I could talk to any bloke about my problems, it would be Thomas. So, after the match (and I am sure he let me win for once), we went for a coffee and I told him everything.

He listened silently to my tale, up to and including the events of the previous evening. When I had finished, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"I don't know what to say, except that I have known you and Annie for at least ten years. I would have bet that Annie would never cheat on you, but that shows you what I know. However, if you want my advice, I'd hang in there. Annie has screwed up big time, but I would give her another chance.

"Besides," he grinned, "if she looked that hot last night, why not stick around? The way you described her, even I would have wanted to fuck her!"

Thomas looked at his watch, stood up and announced, "Shit! I'm running late. I gotta go visit my sister, but call me tomorrow. I want to know how you are doing." With that, he bent down and kissed me squarely on the top of my head. "You'll be OK, but I want to be sure."

It was raining and it took some time to find a taxi to take me home. The house was empty, but about 20 minutes later, Annie reappeared with more bags.

"I'm going upstairs, but I will be back in a minute," she said. "It's too early for dinner, so why don't you find a film to watch on the television?

I decided a rom-com would be totally inappropriate, so I carefully selected a murder mystery. It was a safe choice. Sure enough, Annie joined me on the sofa and clicked the remote to begin the film.

I was wondering whether she would initiate anything, but she kept to her end of the sofa and I gradually got lost in the complicated plot. We had managed to kill off another 2? hours without a difficult conversation.

It was dinnertime, so Annie made an omelette but let me prepare the salad. As we ate, we discussed the film.

"What did you think about that French girl who tried to seduce the detective?" Annie asked.

"What do you mean?" I replied. "I guess she is an OK actress."

"No, silly, don't you think she was hot? Didn't you like it when she took off her clothes and was just wearing her bra and knickers? She had great boobs. Didn't you want to just squeeze them?"

In 20 years of marriage, I never heard Annie say anything like this. Sure, she would occasionally talk 'dirty' when we had sex, but not when discussing a film.

"Here, let me show you what I mean," Annie said. She then pulled up the thick black jumper she had been wearing to reveal a red half-cup bra. The cups of the bra did not barely covered her nipples but they were effective in holding up her breasts firm and high.

I said nothing, but I did feel a twinge in my cock.

"I know, Sweetheart, it's still way too soon," she said, pulling the jumper back down over her tits. "I just wanted you to know that they are here, waiting for the right moment, no matter how long it takes."

She then added, "I love you so much," and rose from the sofa. "I need to do a bit of work tonight. I didn't do anything last week, so I'm behind and need to catch up so I can finish the little work I have remaining. Why don't you relax and I will see you in a little while." Annie then climbed the stairs to the room upstairs which served as her home office.

The rest of the evening passed without incident, and the next morning another work week began. Life returned to as normal as I thought it would get for awhile. After work, we ate dinner together and spoke, but slept separately. There were not more 'surprises' -- good or bad -- from Annie until Wednesday night at dinner.

"I think we need to get away, take a vacation," Annie said. "You got plenty of time due and I am just about done with my work. Let's do something spontaneous, take next week off and go somewhere warm."

"It doesn't sound that spontaneous," I said. "It sounds as if you have given it a lot of thought."

She smiled. "I guess you're right, but I still think it is a good idea. Do you think you could take next week off?"

She was correct on all counts. Between the project that I had just completed and her decision to go freelance, we had not been on a holiday for at least seven or eight months. As it was February, the weather in London was rotten. I could easily take the next two or three weeks off, if I wished, and a little sun could brighten my mood.

"OK, I will ask the powers that be, but I know it won't be a problem. Where did you have in mind?"

Her smile widened. "Mom and Dad went to that tiny resort in St Barts a couple of years ago, and they raved about it for months. I know it's really expensive, but we can afford it. I checked and they still have a cottage available."

"Oh what the hell, book it. I could use a holiday," I said.

"I already did, dear."

The next day, my boss told me to take two weeks off rather than one. I called Annie (the first time I had telephoned her in more than a week), and she squealed with excitement. She phoned back several minutes later to say that she had booked an extra week at the resort.

The next two days were spent working really hard to tie up loose ends before my vacation. I did go out to buy some shorts and short-sleeve shirts. My guess is that Annie did more shopping than work. We had not been on a beach holiday for years, and the only swimsuit I knew she owned was an aging one-piece from Marks & Spencer that she wore to swam laps at the local pool most Saturday mornings.

We set off for Heathrow and then a tropical paradise very early Saturday morning. It was going to be a long trip with three flights: London to Paris, Paris to St Martin and finally the short hop from St Martin to St Barts.

There's nothing longer than a trans-oceanic flight, and it's even longer when you are only making small talk to your partner. Annie slept much of the way, so it gave me a chance to dwell on what had happened over the past ten days. How did I really feel about Annie cheating on me? Could I ever really forgive her? Could I trust her? Did I want to stay married to her? If so, did I really want to have sex with her, considering that she had fucked Fred? I was not sure about this "dedicating her life to my happiness" stuff. And what was with the corset and the see-though blouse?

If I didn't learn the answers over the next two weeks, I never would.

Her parents were right about the resort: It was fantastic: fewer than 30 rooms, some in a small hotel building and the rest in private cottages/villas that were set right on a breathtaking beach. The warm sun was already improving my frame of mind, especially after several weeks of dreary London winter rain.

Check-in was easy. We gave our name, showed a credit card and a charming young French woman, dressed casually but tastefully, showed us to our villa. In perfect but heavily accented English, she explained: "Since you will be our guests for two weeks, there's plenty of time to explore and learn about everything we can offer you. Please get settled in your villa. Your luggage will be delivered shortly, and just us know whatever you may require."

The 'villa' was larger than most flats in London and included on the ground floor a generous-sized sitting room with two sofas and several comfy chairs, a separate dining area and a small but efficiently designed kitchen (in case you wanted a chef to prepare a private meal in your villa). Up a spiral staircase was a huge bedroom containing the biggest bed I had ever seen and a cozy sitting area, along with a bathroom that featured a large whirlpool tub and a walk-in shower that could accommodate a dozen of our closest friends. The villa's exterior walls were mainly reflective glass, surrounded by balconies or terraces on three sides. We could see both the sea and the main resort, but no one could see in.

I was sleepy from the long trip. "Stretch out and take a nap," Annie recommended, noting that she had already slept many hours on the flight. "I'll make dinner arrangements and learn more about the resort. I'll wake you an hour before dinner."

That sounded great, but I had a nagging question: "There's only one bedroom and one bed. How's this going to work?"

Annie smiled. "I hope it will not be a problem, but I understand," she replied tactfully. "One of the sofas downstairs makes into a bed in case I need to sleep there."

"OK" was all I said as I kicked off my shoes, fell on the bed and was asleep in no time.

Annie woke me a couple of hours later with a soft kiss on the cheek, the first physical contact we had since she told me about Fred. It startled me, but it was not unpleasant. As my eyes started to focus, I could see the she had already changed for dinner, wearing a pale green silk dress, held together at the top by thin straps and flowing softly down to her ankles. She had on a pair of high-heeled black sandals. She did not look as hot as she did in the purple corset, but the overall effect was sexy yet very classy. If this was her new style, I could be very happy.

I figured, from the amount of luggage she brought, that this was the first of many new outfits I would see on this trip. That was really weird for a woman who never gave a damn about clothes, except for the original leather trousers.

The hotel had recommended to Annie a informal restaurant on the beach a short distance down the road from the resort, and the dinner was perfect. We continued to engage in safe conversations, mainly about snorkelling, massages and other activities we could enjoy during our holiday. By the end of the meal, the long journey and the time difference were again starting to exact their toll.

And, I was nervous about what was going to happen when we returned to our villa.

Annie had that under control. She told me to get ready for bed while she stayed outside and gazed at the stars. After I got into bed, she emerged from the bathroom in a long black nightdress. It provided full coverage but was still sexy.

"Can we try to sleep in the same bed tonight?" she asked. "We're both exhausted and the bed is so big, there's little chance we will ever come close to each other."

I wasn't going to argue and fell asleep.

It was after 10 when I woke up the next morning, alone in the giant bed. I put on the dressing gown supplied by the resort and found Annie on the balcony, wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt and sitting at a table set for breakfast.

"Good morning, Sleepyhead. Ready to eat?" she asked. With that, she pressed a little plastic button attached to a clip. "You'll get one of these, too. You can put it in your pocket or clip it on your shorts. It's waterproof. Squeeze it and someone appears almost instantly."

It took just more than two minutes for a waiter to arrive in our villa with a large tray. He served coffee, croissants and fresh fruit, then disappeared.

"I could learn to like this," I said. "What's the plan for the day?"

"Whatever you want," Annie replied. "I would like to have a day of beauty: a facial, a manicure and a haircut. You can do whatever you wish, but it might be best if you just walked around the grounds and talked to the staff. I know we will want to go snorkelling at some point, and I was wondering if you would like to learn to scuba dive. I am sure you could find a tennis partner. They have every activity you could think of, but we can also just lie on the beach and read or ...." She raised her eyebrows, but then I could tell that she worried about saying something too soon.

"Why don't I meet you back here at about 6?" she asked, attempting to recover.

So, my first day in paradise was spent alone learning that I could do a lot -- or nothing at all -- during the next two weeks. I walked for what seemed to be miles along the beach barefoot in a t-shirt and shorts, and glanced at the few people who were sunbathing. Some of the women had removed their tops, and I thought to myself that I was glad Annie chose a French island. Then, I wondered if Annie would sunbathe topless. I couldn't recall whether she had worn a two-piece bathing suit since a trip to a Greek island two years after we were married. That was a good holiday. We had a lot of fun, and Corfu brought out the dormant romantic sides in both of us. In other words, we fucked a lot, but only in our room.

I had a sandwich at the beachside bar and chatted amiably to the bartender, sometimes in my bad French, sometimes in his entirely passable English. He explained that we were welcome to dine in restaurants at some of the other resorts on the island. As our resort was so small, there was only one restaurant onsite, although you could always dine in your room or villa. On Tuesdays, the resort served an informal buffet dinner on the beach, which allowed guests to mingle more freely and get to know one another.