Gail Tests Bryan

Immersed in thought while getting ready, it dawned on me that Gail's recounting of her time did not make sense. If she left the hospital fifteen minutes into game time, she would be back at the boat less than twenty minutes later. I thought "Why would she be sitting in the car for thirty or forty five minutes?" I decided to wait for an opportune moment to ask her.

The girls had dressed simply for the evening. Both were wearing flat shoes, Gail had on a beige dress decorated with large colorful flowers. It was cut straight and low across the front and a good few inches above her knees. Around her neck was a set of Polynesian green pearls that I bought her this past Christmas. She looked refreshing and young. Brandeis too was well outfitted for the evening. Her blue on blue dress was really a skirt and top for pregnant ladies made to look like a dress. The skirt was even shorter than Gail's and the top was wrapped so that every move she made hinted at opening, and it was an effort to not stare at her breasts the whole evening.

We dined at Le Bacon in Cap d' Antibes and the bouillabaisse was truly something special. Surprisingly the restaurant was not expensive and I commented to Gail that we probably had passed by this restaurant a dozen times. Maurice, of all things, ordered a Chilean white wine. I shuddered at the price, back home the wine cost less than half. We drank three bottles of wine in what turned out to be an animated and interesting evening. Brandeis was a quick wit and very well versed in, of all things, impressionist art. Whereas Maurice, aside from being a doctor, was an avid collector of, he said, Egyptology. I could also see that he was very taken up with Gail this evening, and she seemed to be paying rapt attention to him. After dinner we all wanted to continue.

Gail suggested the Hotel Du Cap were we wound up sitting in the bar and roaming off to dance outside near the restaurant. At one point when Gail and Maurice were dancing Brandeis had turned to look out the patio doors. She was directly beside me and I could clearly see down the front of her dress. When she turned back I knew she had seen me starring. If I didn't turn red, I felt like I did. Brandeis just looked up at me smiling. "Let's dance," she said, and she stood and reached her hand for me.

On the dance floor we brushed by Maurice and Gail, we were all grinning like Cheshire's, nothing spoken. Brandeis pushed close to me and managed to make me feel her breasts against my arm. We were more shuffling then stepping around. Her left leg would come between mine and I soon started to get excited, and it embarrassed me. I looked over toward Gail, her cheek was resting against Maurice's shoulder, eyes closed. I pulled my behind back so that Brandeis would not feel my hardness. She raised her head and looked at me. "Don't move away Rian," she softly said, "I like that I can excite you." and she pushed into my back with her right hand, urging me closer. Looking up at me smiling, her eyes partly hooded, I found her so very appealing, and thence onward I brought my groin forward and pressed into her at every opportunity.

For the next while Gail stayed on the dance floor with Maurice and I danced with Brandeis. When we returned to the bar, Brandeis turned her chair even further and she was now facing me straight on. Her skirt had risen to her thigh, and with her feet flat on the ground I could clearly see panties. Her pregnant bulge, the bare thigh, the white of her panties and the idea of what was behind it, was the sexiest thing I had seen.

"I shouldn't like looking at you," I commented, while toasting before we drank, "but I do."

Brandeis smiled. A good thirty seconds later she said, "I moved so you could see me. I like for you to look at me."

I smiled, mostly for myself, and thought, 'so much for shy ladies.'

Brandeis nodded toward the dance floor. "They get along well...no?" commenting on our respective spouses.

"Yes." I nodded my head. "Very well it seems."

"Do you get jealous?," she asked.

"Sometimes."

"Now?" Brandeis asked.

I shook my head. "No. Right now I am thinking more about you." But I spoke the words openly, not romantically, trying to take the edge off our previous actions. I found her so sexy but I felt peculiar, almost profane, about feeling that way toward a so very pregnant woman.

When Gail and Maurice returned we paid our check and left. During the ride home we barely spoke. I held Gail's hand, and her fingers were rubbing the back of my hand.

Once on board we all agreed on a nightcap. While Gail and Brandeis fixed our drinks, Maurice and I went forward and slipped into the comfortable deck chairs.

"I have a book I'd like to give you," Maurice said. "It's written by a European but it's as close to seeing old Egypt as you can get."

As the girls came toward us with our drinks I responded, "I'd like that."

Brandeis heard me and quickly picked up on my response, "What would you like Rian?"

I jokingly looked toward Maurice and asked, "Am I permitted to tell them?"

It took a moment for him to grasp, then playing along, "Not yet, let's wait until the right time," he answered.

The girls, curiosity piqued, badgered us for the next ten minutes with no luck. We sat peacefully watching the flickering lights of the city and chatting when Brandeis decided to retire. She kissed her husband and Gail, then bent towards me and kissed me on the corner of my mouth, lingering for just a moment. "Such a tease," I thought. "Such a sexy tease." We all followed her in less then half an hour.

I showered and went to bed in minutes. When Gail joined me she was wearing one of my V-necked T-shirts. When she turned to shut the bathroom light, I thrilled at seeing the bottom of her behind peeking out from under the shirt. She slide close to me and wrapped her fingers in mine. We commented on what a lovely evening it had been, and then she asked, "What were you and Maurice talking about?"

I smiled to myself in the darkened room. "Nothing important. Not yet."

"Why won't you tell me?" she responded, with a half laugh.

"It's not time," I quietly answered.

"Well," she sighed, "I could just imagine."

"What do you imagine?" I whispered, and I took my hand from hers and placed it on her thigh.

"Well, knowing you guys, it can't be that hard to guess." Gail said.

"So guess," I urged.

"You were probably talking about us...how ready we may be."

"In a way we were," I continued.

"You see," she responded knowingly, "That was all that was on his mind tonight."

"Do you think that was all that was on my mind?" I asked.

"You seemed to be pretty engrossed in Brandeis," Gail said, then softly pushed at my side.

"Yes, I think she looks so sexy being pregnant," I paused, "but I feel perverted thinking of her that way."

"I'll bet she loves the attention. She's sweet, and she has a handful with Maurice."

"In what way?" I asked.

"He likes women, and he is much practiced, I think," Gail answered.

"Did he try to seduce you," I asked.

I felt Gail's head turn. "No," she answered, pausing, "he tried to sleep with me. He wanted us to swap tonight."

I was quiet for a moment. "What did you tell him."

Gail answered, "I told him that you wouldn't approve."

I responded, "Why you didn't just say no, or that you didn't approve?"

Gail huffed, part laughing, "That's what I said the first time."

I persisted, "What did you think about the proposal?" I emphasized the word you. "Did you want to sleep with him?"

Gail didn't respond for a long while, finally she said, "At the time, I thought it would be nice if you approved. Now I only want you." She turned on her side and started to run her hand across my chest. "Maurice thought you would have gladly gone to bed with Brandeis."

"Maybe he is right, if she were not pregnant." I added, "She is pretty well along. It would feel like I was imposing on the baby's territory."

"Maurice said you were almost making love on the dance floor." Gail included.

"Yes," I said. "She got pretty bold out there." Then I asked, "Did you do the same?"

"Yes," Gail whispered. "The very first time we walked out to dance. He lowered his hand on my back, laying it flat against the cheek of my behind." Gail moved her head and I looked but could not make out her features in the dark. But her voice sounded as if she were smiling. "Halfway through the song he was actually kneading my behind."

I questioned, "was that all?"

"No," Gail whispered, he soon was hard and not at all bashful about trying to push it against me." Gail paused momentarily, "I let him...it was kind of exciting," she added.

The next morning I arose early and quietly left our cabin heading for the bakery and hot fresh French bread. Maurice's cabin was the first I passed. As I headed down the short gangway the next cabin door was ajar, and I stopped to peer inside. Brandeis was sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing a cream over her stomach. Her night shirt was raised, resting on the bulge of her stomach, and she wore nothing below her waist. Pajama pants lay on the floor in a heap. One leg was resting on the wood frame of the bed, the other in the seat of a wicker chair beside the bed, which caused her legs to open at the knees. The sight was absolutely intoxicating.

I felt guilty spying on her. Conflicting in my mind was the wholesomeness of her pregnancy, and the sensuality of her nakedness. She looked so beautiful. A tingle in my groin helped freeze me in the doorway, and I stood there a few seconds longer and became hard.

Brandeis must have sensed my presence because she looked up. Her expression of surprise immediately softened and she smiled, "Bon jour Rian", pronouncing my name with her French accent, sounding like "re–ann", while she continued to rub her stomach.

Mesmerized, I answered, "Morning, Brandeis...," repeating, "Good morning."

"My morning ritual," she pronounced ree-twal, she said, nodding toward her stomach. She was oblivious of the fact that her legs were spread apart, her small crop of dark hair doing little to cover the thin slit of her vagina. I knew I had been starring when Brandeis asked, "Not very elegant...no?"

With whatever composure I could muster I responded, "but very beautiful." I instinctively nodded, repeating, "very beautiful Brandeis," and I turned from the doorway and left. I thought I noted a slight squint of her eyes, a hard to distinguish hint of pleasure, when I said she looked beautiful.

When I returned to the boat I had hot bread and fresh Chevre. I went to the galley for coffee and Gail and I feasted in the cabin. At first I hesitated telling Gail about my encounter with Brandeis, however, I soon felt compelled to confess. I say confess because Gail and I had agreed we would keep each other informed on this trip. Gail listened, smiled, seemingly untroubled by my fascination.

Gail was sitting in bed, her back leaning on the headboard. I sat in an armchair, coffee cup on the bedside table, my legs propped up on the bed. We talked of our pending trip up to Monte Carlo, then Gail suddenly returned to the subject of Brandeis. "Did you feel like you wanted to make love to Brandeis," she asked.

I smiled at Gail, realizing it was on her mind. "I was so excited I would have stuck it in her ear," I answered.

"She would have allowed you," Gail assured, smiling back mischievously.

"Why. What makes you think so," I questioned.

"Being pregnant doesn't stop you from wanting sex," she assured.

"How do you know?" I quipped.

Gail ignored my question. "Remember when Melanie was pregnant?" she asked, not expecting an answer. "When Steve didn't show interest in her..." Gail stopped herself, not wanting to divulge anything derogatory about her cousin. Her thoughts adjusted, she continued, "Well, she just was always charged up, wanted sex all the time." Gail lowered her voice, and in a softer tone and smiling she again asked, "Do you want to be with Brandeis?"

I was unprepared. Say the wrong thing and I ruin the day. Maybe the week. "Why? Why do you ask?" I reversed the questioning, adding, "I know you wouldn't approve."

"Maybe I would," Gail said, again using her naughty smile.

It dawned on me where this was going. I pondered then answered, "Yes. I think I would. And you?" I asked.

"And me what," Gail feigned.

"Oh. I just thought you had some kind of reciprocity planned," I answered. Though I was making light of the issue, I felt a pang of jealousy well through me. I guessed that Gail wanted to be with Maurice and that was why she was so carefully leading me on with Brandeis.

Gail responded with the most innocent of smiles that was supposed to assure me she was not planning her own rendezvous. The conversation waned as I rose and started to make ready for the day, but, I sensed something on her mind.

Our day had been planned by Tamara. Yesterday she informed us that Gail should meet her at eleven, "ladies shopping," she had said, and that we would all meet for lunch at one o'clock. Maurice and Brandeis were invited to join us as well.

I went out to the tennis courts again and returned to the boat in time to leave for lunch with Maurice and Brandeis. Brandeis insisted I sit up front with Maurice. I held the door open as she slowly settled into her seat, obviously taking longer then necessary to close her legs. I loved her teasing but felt uncomfortable with Maurice so near.

When we entered the restaurant La Piazza, Tamara and Gail were not there. We mentioned Tamara's name and the Maitre d' perked up, his nonchalance now transformed to attentiveness. We were taken to a reserved table set for six. Wine was sitting in chillers on the table, and we helped ourselves. By the time Gail and Tamara arrived, we were into our second glass.

They waltzed into the restaurant chattering away, all smiles, in the company of a gentleman. Tamara had invited along another man who she explained away with her apology, "Sorry we are late. We ran into a friend," and gesturing toward the gentleman, she introduced as Milo.

Now Milo was no ordinary looking man. He appeared to have just stepped out of a fashion magazine, Handsome, about thirty years old I guessed, and perfectly tailored in casual brown slacks and a knit upon knit collarless shirt that looked as expensive as the loose gold watch that he was wearing. He had large striking beige colored eyes – ringed in dark brown, and they caught and held your attention. He also looked very trim and fit. As he shook our hands his manner seemed relaxed, disarming, actually made you feel kindly towards him. What one could not help but notice was his very large Adams apple, which days later became the core of a few jokes.

Tamara took the head of the table and motioned for Milo to sit on her right. As Gail walked around the table to sit beside me, I thought I saw her peek toward Milo, but she kept her eyes averted, acting shy with him. Gail sat to my right with Tamara, to her right. Maurice broke the ice as he started to converse with Milo.

We soon learned that Milo was from, of all places, Azerbaijan. He was staying in Cannes as the guest of a retired French politician. I wondered where Tamara managed to meet him, but that too soon became apparent. Milo, in slightly accented English but with a distinct American slang was telling Maurice that he was on a brief holiday from Dubai, where he was running a construction project for our friend Giancomo.

When Maurice mentioned he sounded American, Milo volunteered that he had lived in New York, and had been in the US Army for two years.

My jealously started to take hold. Why did Tamara want to meet Gail alone this morning? How long had they been together? Why did Tamara say we "...ran into a friend." I found myself starring at Milo, inspecting him. I thought his mouth and lips were so perfect they would have looked good on a lady. Then I was embarrassed by my thoughts, embarrassed I was starring at him, embarrassed because I reasoned that a man shouldn't be inspecting another man like this.

The late lunch went well enough with Tamara spending much time talking with Gail and Milo. Maurice seemed to be in charge of ordering new bottles of wine, and we all drank too much. When we left the La Piazza, Milo asked Tamara if he could escort her home. Somehow, I thought, he had done this before. Maurice and I led the way toward his car, but before we were halfway there, Brandeis and Gail shouted from behind and we stopped and waited for them to catch up. We were passing a small hotel and a window opened into a bar with several tables that were empty and a tiny dance floor with one couple dancing. Brandeis spoke as they neared, "We were wondering if the gentlemen would like to join us for a drink?"

I was a step behind Maurice and he turned to look at me. I smiled and he turned to Brandeis and Gail, "How could we resist," he answered.

We entered into the little bar and took a table on the opposite side of the room from the dance floor. The taped music was perfect for slow dancing from where we were sitting we could see the upper half of the couple dancing.

Maurice asked Brandeis to dance. I moved my chair closer to Gail. She mentioned that Gabriella had called during the day, that they chatted woman talk for a while and about our pending trip. At the first opportunity I asked, "When did you and Tamara get together with Milo."

Gail sensed my discomfort and promptly answered, "We were together all morning."

I nodded my head, expecting that. "Why did Tamara say that you met him accidentally?' I asked, maybe sounding a little annoyed at the deception.

Gail looked at me, shaking her head. "I noticed that too," she said. "I don't know why. When I arrived to pick her up, he was there."

Gail was telling the truth. I knew it. My arm was on the back of her chair, I rested my hand on her shoulder, my assertiveness and arrogance driving me. "How long were you in the car, with Maurice, in the port parking lot yesterday?"

The question was unexpected and Gail flushed. She was looking over the bar at the two couples dancing. She turned to look at me. "We were there fifteen or twenty minutes, talking."

"Why in the car, you could have gone to the boat," I insisted.

Gail was relaxed, her voice quiet, "He was going back to get Brandeis, we had started talking and we just continued."

"There was personal talk, wasn't there?" I persisted. Gail nodded, "A little."

"I saw you lean over," I lied. Gail flushed again, not smiling now. She looked at me with angry eyes.

I continued, "May I ask you these questions, or do you want me to stop now?" I insisted, "Did you lean over to kiss him?" Gail looked at me flushed with annoyance or, I wondered, maybe it was guilt.

"No," she answered. "I leaned over when he took my hand."

Questioningly, I asked, "Why did he take your hand?" Gail fidgeted a bit. I could tell she was considering something, then, having decided to confront me head on she looked into my eyes. "He took my hand and placed it on his lap," she paused, her neck flushed, "to show me how hard he was."

I was nonplused. My mind raced with more questions but Maurice and Brandies were walking toward the table. I smiled to cover up the tension. Brandeis walked directly to me smiling, offering both hands to ask me to the dance floor, "Come Rian," she insisted.

Maurice sat speaking with Gail as Brandeis and I danced. She melted into my arms and the slow music allowed me to feel her breast against my chest. I would have thought her belly would have kept us slightly apart but Brandeis was positioned just slightly off center and my hardness was pushing against her upper thigh. From time to time she would lift her head and look at me smiling, unspoken acknowledgement that she was participating. Gail and Maurice were soon on the dance floor and made little effort to hide their enjoyment, and we continued for another half hour then left.