Gail Tests Bryan

"That's what I asked too," Gail informed. "Tamara said that Milo's name was really Omar. His nickname is Milo... It's short for 'mile'. And the O stands for Omar." Gail emphasized his name, "Mile – oh." After a long pause, "I guess he's big," she giggled.

I sounded a "Humph," adding, "that's funny that he still keeps the name."

Gail offered, "Tamara says he hates using Omar."

I was nodding in consent, "Why did you and Tamara start the second round of laughing?" I asked. "You stopped and started again with Tamara."

"Because"...Gail was laughing again, "Tamara tells me in a very serious tone, Omar means old faithful," and then she adds, "I wonder if the name Omar would have helped my second husband."

I laughed too, more at the thought of this very proper looking elderly lady commenting about her sex life.

I inquired of Gail, "You danced with him. Did he feel that big?"

"I couldn't tell. As soon as I felt him getting hard I moved away." A moment later she added, "But I think he is big."

Our last day in Cannes was spent with Tamara. Gail went to visit her in the late morning and I joined them for lunch. During the morning I passed time with Maurice and Brandeis sitting on the rear deck. Somehow we managed to begin talking politics and I listened to their intelligent analysis of issues. As far as I could assess, the French practiced advanced citizenry, they knew and felt the issues passionately.

The talk was made more pleasant watching Brandeis move about. She was barley covered by her swimsuit bottom and making herself comfortable afforded me a constant view between her legs as she changed positions. At one point, she placed two fingers on either side of the crotch of her swimsuit, slightly raised her bottom, and loosened them. The result was a good sized space between the cloth and her vagina, which I could clearly see. When she was finished Brandeis looked up at me, smiled, and continued to talk. Our pregnant lady was comfortable, that's what counted most.

That evening we dined with Tamara and Milo. We learned that he would be coming up to Monte Carlo to attend a meeting with Giancomo, and it seemed he had a lady friend joining him as well. During the day I had called Monaco and spoken with our friend Peter. We met Peter on a previous trip to Europe and kept in contact. The year after we met he had taken an apartment in Monte Carlo, begun some business in Europe, and was spending a good four or five months a year on the Cote d' Azur.

Peter had arranged for us to rent an apartment in his building, actually, he had offered his own. We opted to stay in a hotel while in Monte Carlo and we were looking forward to visiting with Peter.

We left early the next morning for Monte Carlo. We chose the coast road and passed the now familiar restaurants in Antibes. We reminisced as we drove by the very spot where I had parked two years ago with Gail and Samuel in the back. I still get a tingle in my groin every time I think about it.

We decided to drive straight through and have lunch in Monte Carlo with Peter. He had suggested the bar buffet at the Meridien Beach, where we would be staying. He had insisted on making our arrangements in Monte Carlo, which we would later find to be very much to our advantage.

Peter asked me to call him when we were thirty minutes away. As we drove through Eze I asked Gail, "would you go ahead and call Peter, I promised I'd let him know a half hour out." As we drove into Menton a short while later, our phone rang, it was Peter. He was waiting at the hotel.

We were excited as we made our way into Monaco. The Meridien is directly on Princess Grace, so we knew the way, and we pulled up to the hotel within minutes. Standing just inside the doorway was Peter with another gentleman.

Peter came out to the car and hurried to Gail's side to open the door. He was dressed in tan slacks with a light beige knit shirt that was collarless. As usual he looked...expensive. The doorman, and the gentleman that was standing with Peter watched as Peter reached for Gail. As she stepped out of the car she bent slightly backwards stretching to hug this huge black man.

Peter held Gail's hand as he walked around to my side and we shook hands and hugged patting one another on the back. "Good to see you Rian," he said, "real friends are hard to find." I thought that sounded a bit ominous, but I let it go as Peter introduced the gentleman from the hotel that escorted us to our room. Peter came along with us.

We had a room fit for a Sultan. Three rooms actually. After the manager left Peter asked Gail,

"You like it?"

"Beautiful... but," here Gail started to redden, blushing, then she looked at me, "can we afford a room like this?"

Peter looking toward Gail answering for me, "Of course you can. How much do you think it costs?"

Gail simply shook her head indicating a ... no idea.

Peter continued, "You are paying for a single room, no view."

Since the view from the panoramic windows in front of us swept the waterfront of Monte Carlo, his comment made both Gail and I giggle nervously. Peter went on, "You are here as a connoisseur of wine, you make wine tours in Chile and you "may" do the same here. They are thrilled to have you."

I imagined that each time we came back to the hotel and walked through the lobby we would feel nervous, like we were being watched. Maybe they would find out that we were not special guests.

Gail unpacked as I sat chatting with Peter. Without changing we freshened up and headed to the restaurant Bice for lunch. While we were eating Gail commented to Peter, "If they find out they'll probably charge double the normal room rate." Her comment was completely unrelated to what we were speaking about, and Peter and I looked at one another for a moment. I smiled and reached for her hand, she was worried.

Peter smiled as well, sensing her discomfort. "I was only joking," he said. They gave me a special rate because our company is now selling them wine from Italy. I sensed Gail's immediate relief. Her cheeks colored and she sighed, "That's good," she said.

We had a leisurely lunch, chatting away for almost two hours. Peter brought us up to date on the past years happenings mostly with his new European business. His wife Phyllis seemed to be sending most of her time with their daughter in the U.S. which meant Peter was often away from home. It was two months since he had seen her, and she wouldn't be coming to Europe for another month. After lunch Peter drove us to the Tennis club where we re-acquainted ourselves with a pro from the year before, and booked a court for several days. When we returned to the hotel Peter dropped us off with plans to meet for at 9:30 for dinner.

Gail and I changed and made our way to the hotel pool, to sun ourselves. There were many attractive people around the pool but still Gail managed to shine, at least in my mind. Her bikini, yellow with imprinted large green leaves was pulled high on each side, emphasizing her long tanned legs. When she bent over to place her towel on the chair I noticed a good many eyes watching her every move.

Our deck chairs were beside each other, and after ten minutes of sun we sat up to order a drink.

"Did you get the impression that Peter was unhappy?" Gail asked.

I knew Gail well enough to know she had to have been mulling something over in her mind, to have asked this question. "No," I answered. "I guess he misses his wife... but unhappy! No."

The pool waiter came and took our order, we continued the thought. "I don't know why, but I sense he is a little different," Gail said.

That evening Gail took a long bath then began dressing for dinner. Only wearing panties, she scurried around the suite for an hour, looking in the mirror at one skirt then another. She seemed to work on her hair and makeup for the longest time. When we were ready to leave she stepped out of the bathroom and sang, "Ta Ta... you like?"

I'm sure I looked an idiot, mouth agape, no answer to her question forthcoming. Finally, "Like?" I responded. "More like in love again. You look stunning." Gail looked up from her lowered eyes with a pleased smile. She was wearing a short silky loose beige skirt and beige shoes with a slight heel, just enough to show off her perfect legs. The open front shoes showed all her toes which were painted a cheerful red. A green, red, and beige blouse of flowing silk was loose and cut low across her chest, held up by the thinnest shoulder straps imaginable. The silk was fine enough to see through but the looseness made it difficult to catch the view of her nipple pressing against the fabric, or the slight swell of her breast. Gail looked absolutely magnificent.

We met Peter in the hotel lobby. His comments to Gail on how beautiful she looked caused her neck to blotch red, in spite of her effort to accept the comment with nonchalance. Peter was so effusive that even I almost blushed. He drove us to the north-west part of Monte Carlo, almost to the Corniche. We entered a rather non-descript bar that had a kitchen stove behind the counter. The owner knew Peter and immediately cleared a booth and, without our asking he brought three Pernod and water, which Peter kept insisting was really Absinthe. We ordered our food partly from a menu and partly by walking behind the bar and looking into the pots. Had we known we would have dressed more casually.

The food was out of this world. Large hunks of fish stewing in a tomato and wine sauce with whole tiny onions. Lamb shank with onions, topped with a rich brown sauce, zucchini and eggplant served in layers with cheese in between, like lasagna, but with a most flavorful white sauce that the owner said was made with walnuts. We tested everything, drank two bottles of wine, and had too many, absinthe..? and spent a good two and a half hours in the bar. It was a place to eat and drink, ambience was not on the menu. The owner immediately took to Gail fussing over her the whole evening. She took advantage of her flared skirt every time she moved, and all evening long her blouse caused us to hopefully endure a chance to see her breasts. When Gail had to reach across the table or lean forward our hearts skipped a beat. Once or twice I was entertained with a quick flash of her breast, even her nipples, and not a single movement was lost on Peter.

As we drove home Peter asked, "Was it worth the drive?" Since you can't go anywhere in Monte Carlo that is far, we laughed. Instead of a five minute drive it was ten or fifteen minutes. Peter was driving, I was beside him. From the back Gail chimed in, trying to sound British, "It was very bourgeois... but oh sooo good."

I thought there was a bit of slur in Gail's speech and I wondered if my darling was tipsy. "How in heavens name did you find that place?" I asked.

Peter replied, "Actually, he found me. A friend told him some of my specialty wine pricing and he called. I made a deal with him. He buys a table wine we have, I give him a large discount, and I get a very large discount at the restaurant." Peter looked at me with a childish grin, happy with what he had accomplished.

He asked questioningly, "You're coming to my flat...O.K.?"

"O.K." I answered.

Gail giggled from behind us, "That's if we stay awake."

We had been in Peter's apartment before, and we were not prepared when Peter stepped aside and asked us to enter his now finely decorated dig. The apartment had been completely redone, the walls were different colors in each room, large comfortable chairs everywhere, a long wrap around leather sofa, paintings in every space on the walls, curtains on curtains of soft matching colors, and the place looked like a House Beautiful luxury apartment advertisement.

"Wow!" Both Gail and I exclaimed, almost simultaneously.

Peter looked at me grinning with pride. "It's about a week old, just finished. I had to push them to finish before you arrived."

"It's absolutely gorgeous," I stated, "and even that's an understatement." What Peter had said was registering in my mind. To me it was an affirmation of his connection with us, that he viewed us as important enough to push the finish, to have it ready for our arrival. Gail led us on a walk through the apartment room by room. When finished she stepped toward Peter and placed her right hand on his arm, "Oh Peter! It's so beautiful. You should be very proud." Peter stepped closer and wrapped his large arms around Gail, hugging her to him. Gail leaned to her left, her hands on his chest, and without pushing him away she managed to keep her upper body slightly distanced. I saw her cheeks flush, her neck reddened as she blushed.

Peter spoke, "I'm glad you like it." After a brief pause he stepped back, holding Gail at arms length, "Truth is the only people whose opinion I care about are the both of you," and he turned toward me indicating inclusion.

Gail and I returned to the living room. She seated herself in the center of the leather couch and leaned forward to browse a picture book about Lady Di. I stepped toward the sliding balcony door and stood marveling at the city lights. Peter was busy opening Champagne because we heard the pop.

Gail was leaning toward the coffee table turning pages, when Peter walked in with two glasses of Champagne. Her blouse front hung loose at the top, just enough to afford him a glimpse of her breasts. He stopped in mid stride, glasses still in hand, and a smile spread across his face. Then he looked toward me. I smiled in return and walked around the couch to almost stand beside him. I could see almost all of her left breast. From where Peter was standing, he probably saw most of her right breast. When Gail sensed we were starring she looked up at the two of us momentarily puzzled. Then she too smiled, and placing her hand over the blouse, she shook her head and stated, "You fellows."

I sat beside Gail and Peter sat across from us. We chatted for about ten minutes when the phone rang. Peter answered the excused himself saying he had to take the call. I took off my right shoe and placed my leg half onto the couch and turned toward Gail. "I could see most of your breast the way you were leaning."

"Sorry," Gail said, turning toward me with a soft smile.

I noted that she looked like she was getting tired when I commented, "It looked beautiful, nothing to be sorry about."

After some time she whispered, "Thank you," she flushed again, "do you want to see more?" She was smiling mischievously.

"Yes," was all I replied.

Gail struggled to keep her glass balanced in her right hand and leaning slightly forward she tugged the front of her blouse open to let me look.

I couldn't see much, I needed to be above her. Instead I reached out with my right hand and cupped her left breast over her blouse. She smiled, and stayed leaning forward. I sidled a little closer allowing her to sit more comfortably, and began touching her breasts with both hands, first over her blouse then moments later I reached inside.

Gail interrupted me long enough to place her glass on the coffee table, and then leaned toward me supporting herself with both hands on my upper thighs. We could hear Peter speaking in the next room. I allowed her breasts to hang just out of reach of the palms of my hand then, inching upwards I started to rub her nipples across my palm.

"Mmm," Gail sounded softly, "feels so good." As an afterthought she whispered, "What if Peter comes back?" Both her cheeks blushed red patches.

I responded, "Mmm," and kept touching her nipples. Gail's eyes closed. A minute or so went by when Gail raised her hands to my face and began to kiss me. I placed my right hand behind her back pulling her toward me, while taking her whole breast in my left hand and pressing against it. I noticed that I did not hear Peter speaking any longer. My tongue was exploring every part of her mouth, between her teeth and lips, around her tongue. Gail kissed so softly, it seemed to force you to want to hold her, protect her, get deeper into her mouth.

Gail pushed away in an urgent move and quickly folded her legs beneath her, sitting on her heels. Being directly in front of me permitted her to lean her body into me to continue the kiss. My left hand was massaging her breast, my right hand rubbing from her upper back to her buttocks. Gail reached to my groin pressing me. Realizing I was not hard she turned her hand and placed it flat against my cock over my pants, pressing gently, then releasing, pressing again, rubbing a little.

I sucked on Gail's lower lip until I could feel it in my mouth. Her kisses were wet, a sure sign that Gail had had her share of wine. I placed my right hand on her chin while I turned my head to cover her whole mouth with mine. For no reason, I opened my eyes and there was Peter, standing three feet from the couch and just behind Gail.

Peter shook his head and placed his forefinger to his lips in a 'Shh.' motion. I continued kissing her, maybe ten or fifteen seconds more. I felt Gail stiffen. She kept her mouth to mine. I opened my eyes again and Peter had his hand on her back. Gail's eyes remained closed. Peter was standing, slightly bent at the waist, his hand moving gently across her back. I resumed touching both her breasts, this time lifting her blouse so that her breasts were uncovered and my open hands rubbing circles, bending her stiff nipples on my palms. I felt movement as the couch shifted with new weight.

I ended our kiss and started to nibble my lips across her cheeks to her neck. Gail tilted her head giving me better access. I kept opening my eyes. Peter now had two hands on her back and he was staring at his hands. I assumed he was rubbing her bare back. I moved my left hand from her breast and softly rubbed down her side and across her tummy. I stopped kissing and leaned back making space for me to place my hands between her legs. I looked down. Her skirt was high on her thighs, by leaning just an inch backwards I could see her white lace panties. My hands continued to her thighs and I started to harden as the flat of my right hand moved over the inner flesh of her left thigh, my thumb brushing against her panties.

I was amazed that Gail was allowing this to happen. It was also unusual that she had not asked to turn down the lights. Both my hands were on her thighs, palms turned outward, gently rubbing, allowing my fingers to creep into the folds of her leg, brushing around the edges of her vagina. Peter's hands crept around her chest from behind and lay flat across both breasts. Her blouse was raised over her breasts and her nipples were hard nubs peeking through his fingers. Looking down between Gail's legs was so exciting that I simply concentrated on touching her. I moved the lace of her panties to the side, and repeatedly dragged the whole my finger through the slit of her pussy moving from bottom to top. Gail was wet. Her head was straight, her eyes squeezed shut as if she were deeply concentrated, and her cheeks were flushed red.

Our touching her was having its effect, I felt little shivers of excitement run through her body. I was still looking down and I did not know that Peter was playing with her behind until I cupped her pussy in my hand and felt his hand beneath her. I skirted my finger around her clit, certain that if I touched it she would have an orgasm. I was too excited to rush. Prolonging Gail's pleasure became my own.

I started running my fingers through the slit of her pussy, stopping just short of her clit. From time to time I would squeeze the fleshy side of her pussy while slipping my finger inside. Gail shivered each time, occasionally softly mewing from her throat, "Umm." Every so often she would slightly thrust her groin toward my fingers, and equally as often she would withdraw, as if to meet some other pleasure from behind.