Fantasy Crossroads Pt. 04

"That's great," he says. "You can scope out the island and the two of us can make a trip out there sometime. I don't know why we haven't gone before. When are you going?"

"Tomorrow morning," I reply as my face breaks out into a smile of excitement.

"Tomorrow?" he asks with raised eyebrows and a smile of his own. "You ladies aren't wasting any time."

"We aren't. We're both excited about what we're going to do and grateful to a couple of wonderful husbands for your support and encouragement."

"Well, since you're going to be gone for several days, let's go out to dinner tonight and celebrate your good fortune. How about Roscoe's?"

"Oh, that's perfect. I love their Coq au Vin!"

"Then let's go shower together and dress up a little. They won't let you in wearing sweats," he tells me straight-faced.

"About that shower, Max. We can fool around a little, but I don't want to cum tonight," I tell him with some apprehension. "If we follow our usual pattern, you'll make me cum and..."

"...you would prefer that I not take the edge off the excitement you're feeling about what you and Erin are about to do," he tells me with a smile.

"Exactly," I tell him, sensing that he understands and is not annoyed with me. "You know I subscribe to the theory that the more sex I get the more I want, but I'm about to step off into the unknown with Erin."

"I understand completely," he says, confirming my assessment of his mood. "But when you get home, I'm going to ensure you pay a heavy price for spurning my advances."

"Can I count on that?"

"You can take it to the bank," he replies as he pulls me into his arms for a kiss.

****

I awaken early to finish packing for the trip. Max is sitting on the side of the bed watching as I gather the last few articles of cool-weather clothing I've decided to bring. It is now time to select the sexy stuff and I catch my husband grinning at me as I pull several items out of my lingerie drawer.

"Good choices," he informs me with an even broader grin. "If Erin reacts to those like I do, you're going to have lots of orgasms."

"I hope it works out that way," I respond and then suddenly begin to cry. Max jumps to his feet and folds me into his arms.

"What's wrong, Sweetheart?"

"I... I'm a wreck," I sob. "I have no idea what we're going to do or how we're going to do it."

"Everything will work out just fine. You may have a moment or two of uncertainty while you adjust to each other, but you'll soon get comfortable. Just make certain you're prepared for every possibility," he tells me as he brushes the tears from my cheek with his fingertips."

"What do you mean?" I ask with a tremor in my voice.

"I mean take everything you might possibly need. Better to take it all and not use some of it than discover too late that you want something you don't have."

"You're probably right," I tell him as I wipe the remaining tears from my face, sit down on the bed, and open the drawer in my bedside table where I keep a dildo and several vibrators. As I retrieve the silicone cock, a thought occurs to me.

"Where is the one you used on Erin Saturday night?" Erin and I had both been blindfolded when the dildos were employed and I realize I haven't seen it, or the one Craig used on me.

"I'll be right back," Max responds and heads for the closet in our hallway. Moments later he returns with the gym bag he used at the hotel to stash everything after our bondage session was over.

Sitting beside me, he unzips the bag and begins to lay everything out on the bed; wrist and ankle cuffs, nylon straps, the cat 'o nine tails, the telescoping spreader bar, and the ornately carved wooden box. Setting the box on his lap, he opens the lid.

"Oh my! Look at that thing!" I exclaim as I reach in to remove a truly impressive dildo. It has a realistic skin-like texture and a short handle that looks like the end of a baseball bat. The business end of the implement is about eight inches long and two inches or so in diameter. I flip the little switch at the end of the handle and then grin in response to its surprisingly vigorous vibrations. "No wonder Erin made so much noise when you fucked her with this monster."

"It's identical to the one Craig used on you, which helps explain all the noise you were making. Better Take extra batteries," he says with a grin of his own as he pulls out the butt plug and waves it in the air.

"I don't think we'll be using those," I tell him as my face flushes at the sight of the little instrument that provided so much pleasure on Saturday.

"Take it anyway," he urges, "and plenty of lubricant too."

"I don't have any more of the pre-mixed enemas. I used the last one the other night," I respond, still blushing.

"I'm sure there are drug stores on Martha's Vineyard," he informs me as he gathers up a couple of the nylon straps and the cuffs. "Better take these too."

I know he's right. Being prepared for everything makes sense, so I retrieve a small Vera Bradley bag from our closet and then select a couple of different bullet vibrators and a tube of lubricant from my drawer.

"I'm not taking the spreader bar or the cat," I announce, "but the rest of it goes." Everything fits neatly into the bag and there is ample room in my suitcase for the bag and its contents.

"I'll take your luggage downstairs for you and find some extra batteries," Max offers.

"Better grab the video camera too. Just in case," I tell him with a little smile. Max raises his eyebrows and response.

"But don't get your hopes up," I add.

****

The Uber driver pulls up in front of our house a little after eight and Max walks me out to the car, pulling my suitcase behind him. The driver hops out, relieves Max of the luggage and stows it in the trunk of his car. Erin lowers her window as we approach.

"Hi Max," she says with a bright smile. "I'm stealing your wife for a couple of days."

"You can have her," he responds with a straight face. "She's not much use to me anyway."

"Max!" I exclaim in mock irritation as I turn to give him a goodbye kiss. "You'll miss me when I'm gone."

"Maybe," he says, still deadpanned, and then opens my door. When I'm inside, he leans on the window frame and bends down to smile at Erin and me. "You ladies make the most of your getaway. Relax, have a good time, and enjoy each other. Be safe and come home happy."

Seconds later we are on our way.

****

We land on time at Martha's Vineyard Airport and pick up the rental car. Erin drives because of her familiarity with the island and we arrive at our cottage by eleven-thirty. A wide front porch, with a swing at one end and two rocking chairs at the other, greets us as we pull our suitcases up the walkway.

Setting our luggage inside the front door, we inspect the place that will be our home for two nights and a day. It is everything we'd hoped for and more. The cottage was built around a cozy central room with a wide sectional sofa in front of a gas fireplace centered on one wall. Large windows face the porch, allowing a sweeping view of the ocean. A sitting area with two overstuffed chairs that share a Tiffany floor lamp occupies its own corner of the room. A compact stereo rests on a side table. Oriental rugs, tasteful accent pieces, and several paintings finish off the decor.

A small but efficient galley kitchen is off to one side with a breakfast bar separating it from the larger room. A half bath flanks the kitchen on one side. French doors lead to a large bedroom featuring a king-sized bed with an elaborate brass headboard and loads of decorative pillows. Erin and I exchange small smiles as we both undoubtedly have similar thoughts at the sight of the bed. End tables with more Tiffany lamps flank the bed and a triple dresser occupies one wall. A single large window faces east to capture the morning sun. An impressive entertainment center with a large flat screen television rests against the wall opposite the foot of the bed. A door that opens into a walk-in closet occupies one corner.

A spacious bathroom with double sinks is off to one side. A huge claw foot tubs sits along one wall with two plush bathrobes draped over the rim. A pocket door for privacy leads to the toilet. A huge shower stall with a built-in seat and two shower heads takes up a corner of the room. The shower heads face the back of the stall so there is no need for a door.

"This is wonderful!" I exclaim as we complete our short tour. "We are going to have such a nice time here."

"We are," Erin agrees with a bright smile. "Let's unpack, go get something to eat, and do a little shopping. I was too nervous to have anything more than toast and tea for breakfast."

"I couldn't even handle the toast," I respond, "but now I'm starving."

Over the next few minutes, we empty our suitcases, hanging up what needs to be on hangers in the closet and placing folded items in the drawers we have divided between us. I note with a smile that Erin brought the wraparound dress she wore on Saturday night, as did I. When she isn't looking, I remove the Vera Bradley bag and a black leather case and slip them into one of the drawers. The case conceals the video camera and a small collapsible tripod. I don't see Erin do anything similar, but I'm certain she brought some items as well. Either she put them away when I wasn't looking, or they remain in the suitcase she has zipped up and placed alongside the dresser.

"Ready?" she asks as I set my suitcase beside hers and put my laptop on the dresser.

"Ready," I reply.

Our cottage is only a few miles from Edgartown, so we are soon seated in a casual little restaurant overlooking the town's harbor.

Mindful or our decision to heed Max's advice and take things slowly, we spend a pleasant hour or so enjoying antipasto, bread, and a delicate but unpronounceable Italian red wine. As we take our time eating, we share many details of our lives; childhoods, the horrors of high school, the adventures of college, old boyfriends, and our husbands. By the time we finish lunch it is nearly three o'clock and I feel as though Erin and I have known each other forever. It is a nice, comfortable feeling.

"I don't know about you," I begin, "but I'm not fond of cooking and I don't think we should waste a lot of time fooling around in the kitchen."

"I agree. We can pick up simple stuff for breakfast and lunch, stock up on snacks, and eat dinner in an expensive restaurant tomorrow night," Erin answers. "It's late in the day now, so I can do just fine tonight without leaving the cottage for a big meal."

"Me too, so let's hit a grocery store and a liquor store on the way home. I'd like to stop by a drug store as well."

"I need a drug store too," Erin responds, looking a little startled.

"Then let's go," I suggest as I add a generous tip to the credit card bill and sign on the dotted line.

"Wow!" Erin quips as I slide the card back into my wallet. "A credit card. You are more technologically advanced than I thought."

"I'll have you know we had credit cards back in the Dark Ages."

In short order, we find a Stop & Shop where we load up on different kinds of fruit, several varieties of cheese, some assorted crackers, and a box of tea bags. Erin grabs a couple of containers of yogurt and, on a whim, I throw two Styrofoam cups of Ramen noodles into our basket. Erin looks at the noodles with disdain.

"I lived on that shit in college," she snarls but then smiles at me.

"Me too, but I still like it every once in a while. Hard to beat a meal that only requires hot water. My kind of cooking. Besides, I wasn't planning on sharing it with you anyway," I tell her with a straight face and Erin sticks her tongue out at me. We grab a pound of frozen shrimp, some veggies, and a bottle of ranch dressing to make salad

Our next stop is a nice wine and spirit shop. We decide to forego the spirit part and concentrate on the wine. Selecting a couple of bottles, we head for the cashier. On the way, I spot a display of different types of champagne and some small boxes, each containing a pair of plastic flutes.

"Let's buy some," I suggest and Erin readily concurs. We get a recommendation from the owner and buy two bottles along with a box of the little flutes.

"Okay, now we can sustain life," I announce as Erin pulls out of the parking lot and follows directions on her phone to an old-style drug store in the middle of town.

I don't know what she needs, but I'm looking for only one thing. We part company at the entryway. I have no idea where to start looking so I flag down a female employee who gives me directions. I catch a glimpse of Erin talking to a different store clerk as I follow the route I was given. When I turn into the aisle, Erin enters the same aisle from the other end. We meet in the middle and have our first uncomfortable moment of the trip.

"This is a little embarrassing," Erin says in a low voice when we both stop in front of the small section that contains the pre-mixed enemas. I can feel blood rushing to my face as I watch hers turn beet red. It takes a moment for me to recover.

"I...uh...I don't know what we might do," I confess, "and I used my last one Saturday night before I went to the hotel."

Erin gets an attack of the giggles and clamps a hand over her mouth. After a moment or two she regains control of herself.

"I used our last one Saturday night too. Did you know beforehand that we were going to do something anal?"

"No. It was just a precaution. Before Saturday night, my only anal experience was Max putting the tip of his finger inside me sometimes just before I cum," I whisper. "I thought he might have told Craig about that, so I wanted to be prepared just in case," I add, now blushing furiously.

"That's the limit of my experience too," Erin admits, also whispering. "Craig sometimes does that and it makes me cum immediately."

"Can I help you ladies," says a male voice as Erin and I both let out a little yelp and turn to stare at a kid who looks like he's about fifteen years old.

"N...no thanks," Erin tells him in a squeaky voice.

"We're fine," I add and then cough nervously into my hand.

"Well, just let me know if you need anything," the kid says and wanders off down the aisle.

"Shit," mutters Erin. "Now what?"

"No need for both of us to show up at the cash register with the same product at the same time. Particularly this product. Go on out to the car. I'll buy them and meet you outside. They'll never see either one of us again, so fuck 'em."

Erin briefly giggles again, gets herself under control, and leaves the store. I don't know how many of the damned things to get, but I'm sure as hell not coming back here for more. Each box has two of the little bottles, so I grab three boxes and stride up to the front of the store with my head held high.

Of course the snot-nosed kid is now manning the register and I fight back the urge drop everything and flee. I don't know what's the matter with me. I'm probably twice this kid's age and I doubt he knows a damned thing about enemas.

"We have some laxatives that are a lot more gentle than these things," he tells me. "Do you want me to get some for you?"

"No thanks," I finally manage to choke out after clearing my throat twice. "This'll do just fine."

"Suit yourself," the little shit tells me. I pay with cash and try to keep from running out of the store.

A minute later I collapse into the front seat and burst out laughing. Erin doesn't know what happened, but she joins in my laughter anyway. On the way back to the cottage, I tell her about my experience at the checkout counter. She gets another attack of the giggles and then suddenly starts to cry.

"Pull over," I tell her. When she eases the car to a nearby curb, I reach over to brush her cheek with my fingertips. I'd hug her but the center console is in the way.

"What's the matter?" I ask when it looks like she might be able to speak.

"I'm embarrassed. Really, really embarrassed," she admits with a little sob. "I have no idea what we're going to do when we have sex tonight. I've never been with a woman before and I don't have a clue how lesbians make love. And I don't know why I'm reacting like this. Saturday night I was a little nervous but that was from anticipation and excitement."

I brush a few strands of beautiful red hair out of her face and then resume stroking her cheek while I formulate my response.

"I did my crying this morning," I tell her.

"You did? Why?"

"For exactly the same reason you're crying."

"I don't understand why I feel so unsettled," she says with a sniffle.

"Erin, look at me," I begin. When her lovely green eyes meet mine, I tell her what I think.

"Saturday night was entirely different. We knew up front that we were going to have sex with men who are not our husbands. But we had both been there once before, so we knew how we would feel about it afterwards. The only mystery was the bondage."

"What will happen tonight is entirely different," I continue, "Right now we don't know what to do. I don't know how lesbians make love either, but we'll figure it out if we want to pursue this. Whatever happens will be a first for both of us. And by the way, we aren't lesbians. Until we actually do something, decide we like it, and then do more of it, we probably aren't even bisexual.

"It was the enema thing that set me off," she says with a sigh. "I have no expectation that we'll do anything like that, but I wanted to be prepared just in case. I had no idea you were thinking the same thing."

"I don't have any expectations either," I tell her, "and I was just as embarrassed as you when we met in the aisle."

"How many of those things did you buy anyway?" she asks as a little smile slowly takes over her face.

"Well, uh...six. They come two to a box."

"Six! Six?" she squeals and then let's out a belly laugh.

"I don't know if we'll use any of them, but there's no way I'm going back to that store for more," I tell her and then join in her laughter.

With the tension broken, Erin pulls away from the curb and we return to our cottage.

"Let's put everything away and go for a walk on the beach," I suggest.

"Good idea," she replies. "And then maybe we can have some champagne and watch the sunset from the porch."

"Work for me," I answer as I grab an armful of our purchases. "I believe the porch swing faces west."

A few minutes later we don jackets as protection against the cool temperatures, roll up our jeans, and step barefooted onto the sandy trail that leads down to the beach.

When we arrive at the water's edge, Erin reaches out to take my hand. I give hers a reassuring squeeze and decide not to let it go for the remainder of the walk.

We spend a delightful hour strolling on the beach, revealing more information about ourselves, and squealing like kids as the occasional rogue wave races up the sand to lap at our ankles.

Our laughter rides on the brisk evening air as we climb up the path that leads back to the cottage. There is an outside faucet where we rinse the sand off our bare feet before stepping off onto a flagstone walkway that leads up to the porch.

"The sun is about to set." Erin informs me. "So let's open a bottle of that champagne."

****

A short time later, we are seated on the porch swing with plastic champagne flutes in our hands, watching as the sun starts to dip below the horizon. We are both wearing thick socks and slippers to warm our feet, and we're sharing a heavy comforter Erin found in the bedroom closet to hold the evening's chillier air at bay.

I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to my body where she snuggles against my side. I have just about decided that I will probably have to take the lead for whatever is going to happen tonight when Erin turns her head to look me in the eye.