Club Caribe

In a voice I can criticize only as a bit too clean and pure, Liza sang harmony with the lead vocal. She sounded professional, but she looked at the soloist for reassurance and found it in a big thumbs up. Then it happened. She started to sing with confidence, and now she sounded as good as the band's lead, who eventually pointed at her to solo. She did, and the crowd went wild. She offered the mic back but the lead wouldn't take it and the crowd called for more.

To get back to more raunchy stuff, I assume, the band played a fast, rhythmic Latin number. Liza sang a bit but also went to the side of the stage, right in front of an orange flood light, and danced, professionally and quite erotically, with a lot of humping. With the light shining right through her chainmail, every motion of her functionally naked body was silhouetted. The crowd, or at least half of it, went absolutely berserk, hooting and howling and screaming.

When she handed the mike back there was a chorus of boos. She poured off the stage and was instantly surrounded by a flock of horny guys. Most hung back respectfully, but a few obnoxious ones pressed in on her. She fought her way through and flowed straight into my arms, wrapped herself around my neck, and gave me a huge kiss. "Thanks, that was really fun. I haven't done that for years," she said. "I probably shouldn't have done it now, but I may never get another chance."

I couldn't help myself. I was awestruck. "That was fantastic," I said. "You're fantastic. Amazing. Impossible." And then I did it. "You're way out of my league. Out of anyone's league."

As a policy, honesty is overrated.

She had been pressing her full self on me and starting to kiss me again. Now the smile turned upside down. She let go of my neck. She spun away, crossed her arms, and moved a significant couple of feet to the side. Then she held her face in one hand.

I knew exactly what she was thinking, thought for thought. She wanted to have fun, but she wanted to be normal first. She wasn't. She wanted to fit in, not have regular people tiptoe around her overawed or trying to ingratiate themselves. And she had blown it. The pack of obnoxious wolfmen circling her now was exactly what she didn't want.

I thought about putting an arm around her. But I was the problem. Or at least, I was the messenger.

I walked over and apologized. I said she could be fantastic but still be normal. It rang hollow even to me. Without a word she walked out onto the deck of the main lodge.

I was nonplussed. I secretly thought she was overdoing the disadvantages of being slightly superhuman. Who doesn't want that? But she had been that, and this was her judgment, and she had good judgment. And I had just fallen into the category of problem people, even though we had been buddies for years. Now she had come out to me, and I had let her down.

But I couldn't not talk to her, so after a minute I tracked her down and asked if I we could talk. We stood in the warm night breeze, overlooking the ocean with little waves sweeping in on the beach. There were tree frogs. I didn't touch her. I thought hard about why I felt she was still a friend, at least, despite her huge talents. "You told me once that being beautiful, 'is not an accomplishment, just a gift.' You have a great singing voice. You can dance. Aren't these things gifts too? Then I guess they're unimportant too."

"They are. To me. But they still have an effect on people," she said. "They put me on a pedestal that's way too high, just 'cause I'm fortunate. Now I have an entourage but no idea who my real friends are. It's totally ridiculous. Betty is better off."

"Look," said I, "listen up. I'm a friend of Betty. I'm a good friend, I hope. And she's a good friend to me. You're Betty, deep down. One and the same. I can swing this. I can be your friend, if you'll have me, and I'll be your boyfriend if you want me. I can't speak for the rest of the human race, but there are a lot of people out there and some are good ones. You may have to pick and choose more carefully than most, or let Betty introduce you. That was a great idea, by the way. But don't give up what makes you happy. And tonight you made a lot of other people happy, too. You really are fantastic, you know. There's just nothing to be done about it." I had exhausted myself.

She sniffled a little. I still didn't try to touch her. I thought she had probably learned to suspect that any touching was sexual.

The waves rolled in.

Finally she came over and gave me a friendly but half-hearted one-armed hug, side to side. "Thanks. I think maybe you're out of my league. I'm going to bed," she said. It was 10:30.

****

I stayed at the lodge and sipped a Corona as the waves whispered on the beach. I thought Betty could handle what Liza couldn't. On the other hand, if I found a genie in a lamp, I was no longer sure I would wish for all the things Liza was born with.

Sandy found me and sat down next to me, on the same chaise. She asked about Liza, after expressing incredulity about her performance. I said Liza was unhappy with herself, and Sandy was frankly disbelieving. "She's who I want to be when I grow up."

She asked if I needed some company. I said it was tempting but Liza needed moral support. "Next time!" she said brightly, giving the inside of my upper thigh a friendly rub before bounding off into the night.

When I got back to the room the lights were off and Liza was sitting on our deck overlooking the waves, still in her party dress. I sat down next to her.

She said, "You're right. I'm being a crybaby. My problems are ones other people wish they had."

"Only from a distance," I said. "They're still real. There's no substitute for having good friends."

"I know. I try. It just takes so much effort to cut through the chatter. I deserve credit for my genetics exactly as much as people deserve blame for their birth defects. None of it should matter. But it does. It just takes so much time and effort to set things right...." She sighed.

We listened as the waves continued to self-destruct on Thong Beach. The tree frogs peeped by the millions and the moon started to set. "This is nice," she said eventually.

"This is the best," I said. "Ignoring everything else, this is perfect."

"Know what I was thinking when you came in?" She paused. ""I'm tired of being me. I want to be someone else, someone outside the bubble. I'd like you to fuck me like I'm your escort. I want to be property. Just for tonight."

I needed to think. I understood her reaction, but she was becoming important to me for reasons I hardly dared think about, and I didn't want to spike the relationship. On the other hand, I doubted this was really a one-off. It was too similar to her mock "audition." That had been amusing, but she hadn't really needed to characterize our first encounter that way. Unless it turned her on.

"Well?" she said.

"When I feel like it," I said casually.

She smacked me with a pillow from her chair.

"I suppose I have a minute for you now." I said. "I don't keep slaves, but you never properly finished your audition. Your turn has come. Next!"

She grinned and stood up in front of my chair.

"This is number 27?" I called over to the side. "Did you forget your tag?" She apologized. "Not a good start," I said. "Let's review the basics. You realize what you are auditioning for, right?"

"I want to get into porn." With a grin: "I'll do anything."

This was going pretty well. "Let's take a look at you," I said. She twirled around for me. The dress was interesting in how it poured off her peaks and fell into her valleys. Below where the dress had to accommodate her large breasts, the hem was higher and hung away from her legs. Also, her darker parts were slightly visible through the mesh and her nipples made noticeable bumps. She looked at me inquiringly.

"Whenever you're ready," I said.

She did a double-take, but then shrugged the dress off her shoulders. The top cascaded down to where the front caught on her boobs. She looked charmingly embarrassed as she tried to shake it off her twin obstacles. Metal links don't stretch, so she had to crush her boobs instead. Once they flopped out, she caught it on her elbows and rotated herself left and right. I watched her boobs sway and settle. I think the tree frogs went wild. In any event she looked down at me hopefully, and I said, "So far, so good."

She let the dress fall in a pool around her feet, leaving her standing in white stockings, black heels and a thong. Then she slowly peeled of the thong.

I stood, walked up to her, pinched her nipples, and watched her reaction. She leaned toward me a little and closed her eyes. I stepped back. "Let's see," I said, and I weighed each boob in my hand, one at a time. I turned her to the side and kneaded each ass cheek. Finally I reached down to her bare pussy, pressed her outer lips together and massaged them. I stroked her inner lips several times. Again, she aroused quickly. She started to hump my hand. "Hey," I said, "the screen test is later." I pulled away, leaving her breathing hard and glaring.

She put her hand to her crotch, probably for relief. I said, "Look, if you're going to be bashful this isn't the job for you. The camera is going to be rolling inches away while you get fucked like a farm animal, and then if you're lucky lots of people will be watching. Let's see it," I said ambiguously. She paused, spread her legs and bent back to display her pussy. I waited a beat and then said "No, no...the heat! Let's see the heat! Can you act?"

Sheepishly, she said yes. She bit her lip and ran her hands over her exposed flesh, uncertain what to do.

"Tell you what. Kneel there and pretend you're riding cowboy to an orgasm." As soon as I said it I wondered if this would be too much, but she actually grinned.

"You're very creative," she said. "Will you be directing me?" As long as she wanted, I said sincerely. We both paused.

"Sandy," I called over her shoulder to my imaginary helper, "Record. Let me know if you need more close ups."

Liza got down on her knees and started her act, bobbing up and down, rubbing her pussy with one hand. After a few moments she started some little grunts and whimpers that were startlingly convincing, and bobbed harder. She tried to keep her tits from bouncing with her other forearm.

"Put your hands behind your head," I said. "Look right at the camera next to me. You have a big audience watching. I need wild abandon!"

I tried to watch dispassionately while her breasts heaved around, but she noticed the giant tent in my pants and started to smile. When I couldn't stand it anymore I said she had passed the fake orgasm test. "Bad news for your boyfriends," I said. "They'll never know for sure."

"Actually," she said, "that was mostly method acting. I almost got there." She looked flushed.

"But you know this isn't really about acting, right? It's about lots of sex. Let's do that under live fire, shall we?" I gave her a hand up and led her across the deck to the cushioned chaise. Our cabin was close to others, and the chaise was aimed right at the public beach, but I guessed almost everyone would still be at the lodge. The music could be heard faintly over the peeper frogs and the waves. I left her stockings and shoes on and pushed her down on her back. She knew what was coming. She opened her legs wide, raised her feet high in the air and pulled her knees back while I knelt on the deck in front of her pussy and spread her wide.

I said, "It will help your presentation if we can hear some reaction. Got it?" She nodded hard. She seemed impatient.

I watched her carefully as I gave her glistening pussy a few soft, exploratory licks and blew on it lightly. She seemed to like it. Actually, she was no longer grinning or smirking about our little fantasy. She was grimacing slightly. Her arms were straining to hold her knees as far up and apart as they would go. Her pussy was presented as close to me and wide open as possible. She made tiny humping motions with her pelvis while waiting for my tongue. I looked up and saw her enormous breasts, only slightly sloshed to the sides, rising and falling quickly. Her erect nipples, viewed in profile, framed her face. She stared at me and then rolled her head back and closed her eyes in frustration. She was in heat.

I started by running the tip of my tongue up and down her outer lips. She went "uuuunnnnnh" softly and tried to angle her hips so my tongue would massage inside her. I switched to licking her inner lips and she promptly went "aaaaaaaaaaangghhh" with each stroke. I did this for a while and the groans grew louder. I inserted a finger in her and gave it a few strokes, which produced an "Oh! And then "Oooooh!!" on each stroke. I added a finger and, finally, gave her what I thought she wanted: the flat of my tongue brushing hard over her clit. She went crazy, bumping her hips and almost whimpering "ohmygod!" repeatedly. I fluttered my tongue on her clit for a change. She seemed ready to cum, since she was bumping and writhing so hard I could hardly keep my tongue on target, so I stuck a finger into her and pumped it as fast as I could. She immediately arched her back and shook uncontrollably for a minute, with a loud "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

"Pass," I said.

She collapsed in a sweaty heap. She said she was glad we hadn't gone to the dance. "Please stick your cock in me now," she said.

In the spirit of the evening I flipped her over on the chaise and took her doggy style. Since I'm a boobs guy and I missed seeing her tits, I wrapped my arms around her and felt them swing with every thrust. Then I grabbed them both and used them to pace the thrusts.

I was about to cum when she said she wanted to audition a cum swallow. She disengaged and flipped over on her back, and snuggled down between my legs so my slimy pole was right over her mouth. She stuck out her tongue.

And I came. Oceans of jizz laced over her tongue and into her mouth. It hit her nose and spattered onto her forehead. It dripped down her eyebrows and onto her eyelids, then down her cheeks. I pumped and pumped, and she smiled and smiled. She cleaned up with finger and tongue. And then we snuggled and groped hornily and talked about how great everything was.

****

I was awakened by the sheer curtains billowing in the trade winds. And by the fingers stroking the underside of my erection, which was lying on my stomach. I turned and kissed Liza.

"This is nice," she said. "I could do this all day. And I had a great time last night, too. You really got me off. I can't remember being hotter. That was the perfect set up."

I could feel the individual fingertips and the edges of the occasional fingernail tracing their ways up and down my shaft. This wasn't gearing up to fuck, just a nice morning wake-up call.

"I'm not really a submissive, you know," she continued. "I don't have rape fantasies. I have limited interest in being a sex slave. But most guys are so deferential with me. They don't want to blow their chances of fucking me again. Or more accurately, fucking this body again."

The fingers lightly circled my tip. Just for variety, I guessed, or to be nice.

"Maybe I'm a consensual submissive, though. I kind of liked the fantasy."

"What other fantasies can I assist you with, Miss?" I asked. "I liked it too, by the way."

She gave my cock a little friendly squeeze and started stoking again with the flat of her hand. It was getting more serious.

She sighed. "I have lots of fantasies. I have to decide which ones might be realistic. And I like ones where I owe you something, like I did for this trip, where I had to audition.... Let's get a bite." She meant of breakfast, I decided disappointedly.

I got up with a raging boner and turned on the shower. She materialized next to me instantly, naked. "You didn't audition me for the obligatory shower scene," she said accusingly.

"You mean where the gorgeous girl with the big sexy boobs gets thrown up against the shower door and drilled by the trashy porno creep while the camera rolls in her face?"

"Exactly," she said. "See, you have a natural talent for directing." And as I turned on the water, she started seriously massaging my pole. I only wished Sandy had been there with the waterproof camera.

****

Sandy was at breakfast, though, and she rushed up to us. "Where did you guys go?" she asked. "Everyone wanted to know who Liza was! Lady, you're in another league!"

Liza took it calmly. "Thanks, I did some of that in college. What happened after we left?"

"Wow," said Liza, "you definitely should have stayed for that. It turned into a sex mosh. After the band the Organizers started this game of whether the guys or the girls could tie together the longest chain of clothing!" I asked who won. "The girls, of course. We had bras. Well," she shrugged, indicating her ultra-tight micro-tube top that served mostly to accentuate her nipples, "some did. Then everyone paired off and screwed. I couldn't find an empty beach lounge anywhere. We had to go back to the room and have a foursome with my roommate and her guy. If you guys are up for that, you should let me know!" She eyed Liza's tee shirt, which said, "I would look good on you," in bulging letters with tension wrinkles.

Liza looked at me in astonishment. I tried to minimize the tent in my swimsuit. "Thanks," I said. "I'm kind of stuck on Liza at the moment."

Sandy looked Liza up and down from neck to ankle, slowly and hungrily. "Me too," she said. "But you guys should definitely come to the volleyball game today." We promised to go.

As we finished breakfast, Liza asked how her porn audition had been received. "Highest marks," I said, "You're ready for the final step."

"There's another step?" she asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

"Of course. You're a natural star, but so are lots of other starlets on the make. So now you have to catch the attention of a producer. They're mostly sleazy guys who'll just want to fuck you on the casting couch and dump you, so you have to give them a real girlfriend experience to get anywhere."

She considered this news soberly. "Any ideas where I can meet a producer?" she asked.

"Gilbert Gropewell at your service." I extended my hand.

Instead of shaking, she reached across the table, took my hand, and moved it gently onto her left breast. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Gropewell," she said.

I looked around furtively as I withdrew my arm. "Yes, a real pleasure. Want to go to the beach this morning? And then I hear there's a volleyball game."

****

The bulletin board said the "Club Caribe Famous Volleyball Game" was at noon, so we had plenty of time. On the way back to our room we speculated about why the volleyball game was famous. Liza figured it was strip volleyball. This being Club Caribe, I figured the winners got to do the losers.

Preparing for a day in the sun, Liza stripped naked and covered herself with some slimy spf 30. I helped. Then she excused herself into the bathroom. I put on board shorts and waited. In a minute she called around the corner, "I'm not sure about this," and re-entered the room.

It was the black bikini from her apartment. I now realized it had braided leather cords around her neck, behind her back, underneath her crotch, and up her ass crack where it separated into two, spreading her upper cheeks nicely. The narrow triangles barely covered her aureolae, and they were mesh anyway.

"This thing isn't easy to wear," she said. "When I bend forward the slack lets it gap away and then it doesn't go back where it should."

"You're doing a service to mankind," I said, "and you will have the attention of this producer all morning." We set out for the beach, Liza keeping her shoulders back and walking gingerly at the uneven spots.