tagExhibitionist & VoyeurMary Against the World

Mary Against the World


This is my April Fool's Day contest entry. Please be generous with your stars!


Mary and Matt had a good marriage. Matt had a steady job which paid well, and Mary was the Girl Friday for an executive, which paid even better. The problem with Mary's job is that it had unpredictable hours, and it involved tasks that were not for everyone.

Matt knew a lot about Mary's job, but there were aspects she did not tell him. She told nobody those aspects. The executive, Mr. Bonami, had needs that were not conventional. The worst one was when he would get lonely at night. He would call for Mary around 4PM, and her job was to arrange some female company for the evening. Women for hire were not allowed.

Mary knew a lot of women who were enthralled by men with money and power. This was not her taste in friends, but it was part of her job to know such women, and she was good at finding them, befriending them, and keeping track of them. Usually by 4:15PM she had a woman all lined up, willing, happy, and eager to have the chance to go to dinner with a super-rich man such as Mr. Bonami, and to have him lavish his full attention on her, making her feel like the most special woman in whatever elegant restaurant Mr. Bonami chose for that evening, if not in all of New York.

What happened after the dinner between Mr. Bonami and the woman was not Mary's business, but if Mr. Bonami was not pleased, he let her know. He would not be pleased if the woman refused him some kind of sex. It did not have to be fucking, a blowjob would do, and maybe even a handjob, if she were naked while she was giving it.

He was always threatening that if she found him one more dud, she herself would need to satisfy him. If it ever came to that, Mary vowed to herself that she would find a new job. To date, and she had been in her job for a little less than three years, and nothing like that had ever happened and so she was not too worried. She was good at picking the women. She was, indeed, very good.

Mary did however need a vacation. Mr. Bonami was demanding, and she had not had a week off of work since she began the job. That made almost three years of relentless tense and hard work. She worked seven days a week, always looking for new gold diggers in her spare time, and she was simply at the end of her rope.

Matt was sympathetic, and he suggested a trip to Paris together. Mary had once spent a weekend in Montréal, but that was the closest she ever got to Paris, or Europe in general. She had also never been to Mexico or for that matter to any foreign country other than Canada. The most exotic place she had ever visited was Puerto Rico, and that is, after all, a part of America.

Mary got her passport and was super excited about a trip to France. She arranged for her second in command, known as Mr. Bonami's Girl Thursday, to cover for her during her one-week vacation. The day before they were to leave, Matt's vacation was cancelled, and he had to go to Chicago to put out some fires in the Midwest offices.

Mary refused to go to a romantic spot like Paris without Matt. They discussed it. Mary tried valiantly to hide her disappointment, and she mostly failed. Finally, she agreed to Matt's suggestion that she go to Florida, soak up some sun, go to the beach, and perhaps hang out with her old college friend Susan down there. Chicago would not be fun for Mary, since it was windy, stormy, and cold, and Matt would be busy 24/7 with work nonsense.

Matt knew Mary was a beach girl. She had grown up at Long Beach, on the south shore of Long Island, a suburb of New York City, and she felt more at home in a bikini than she did in a blouse and skirt. Mary had a great body, and she enjoyed the lustful but meaningless stares she would get from men, and some women, when she would parade around in a bikini. It was cold and rainy in New York, with the threat of snow or freezing rain, and in contrast it was currently gorgeous weather in south Florida.

Mary began to think about Cuban food, sand, surf, and lying on the beach with a good book. She called her old college friend Susan, who lived in Miami, and Susan was all for it. Matt called and got her a room at the Grand Beach Hotel, charging it to his company so that he would get the corporate rate. He would find a way to justify it later.

"There will be a lot of men like Mr. Bonami there, with girls on their arms, so you might meet some other Girls Friday," Matt had said, teasing Mary.

"That's the last thing in the world I need right now!" Mary exclaimed. "Maybe a Courtyard Marriott would be better?"

"No, Mary," Matt said, "You need to be pampered and to relax and to get recharged and restored. I'm really sorry about Paris, but let's go there the next chance we get, okay?"

Mary almost cried, but she agreed to everything, and she packed her bags for Florida. She had a twinkle in her eye when she packed her string bikini. She packed her one piece, too, since she planned to do some serious swimming in the hotel's pool.

Mary and Susan had a grand reunion. Susan had recently had a messy divorce, and she knew all the singles bars in the area, and the two girls went to most of them, letting men buy them a drink at each bar. Susan found a man and went home with him, but Mary was married and so at that point she headed back to her hotel, alone and loyal.

Mary knew Susan needed to re-establish her self worth. Divorces can destroy a woman's self-image. Susan was not a slut, but she had never been that hard a girl for a man to get into bed, even, or perhaps especially, in college. Indeed, it was knowing Susan and her similar friends that gave Mary the talents she needed to be Mr. Bonami's Girl Friday. She only had to look for girls who were like Susan, not for girls like herself.

Back in her hotel room and feeling just a bit sexually frustrated as she imagined what Susan might be doing with her man of the evening at that very moment, Mary opened her laptop, thinking she would go online and check her email. She powered it up, and it said, 'Welcome Matt.'

The computer wanted either Matt's password or his fingerprint. Mary realized of course that she had brought Matt's computer by mistake. That meant Matt had hers. She dug her phone out of her purse. It was still on airplane mode from the flight down, so she quickly restored it to normal. She read 20 increasingly hysterical texts from Matt. She had seven missed calls, all from Matt, and she had ten emails from him.

The last texts suggested that they each use the other's computer. He needed to download Dropbox onto Mary's computer to access his work files and programs, but he could do that. All he really needed now was either her fingerprint or her password. She needed the same from him. Since their fingers were 1400 miles apart as the airplane flies, they would need to exchange passwords.

Mary called Matt and they exchanged protestations of love. She told him about Susan, the nightclubs, and that Susan was probably being ravished by some guy she had met a few hours earlier who had the good fortune to choose her to offer a mojito.

Matt asked her, teasingly, if anyone had offered her a mojito. "Yes," Mary said, "And it was delicious."

"I guess he did not get lucky, like Susan's guy," Matt said.

"No, he didn't. I'm a married woman, remember?" Mary felt as if Matt was hinting he would find it sexy if Mary had in fact taken her mojito buyer back to her hotel room with her. Gross! She must be reading him wrong. It's hard on a phone to tell what a person really means. For example, was he smiling when he said that? Or instead did he have vicarious lust for thrills in his heart? Was he stroking his cock through his pants when he wondered aloud if she had let a man into her panties?

Occam's razor, Mary thought. The simplest explanation was the best. He was only joking. They exchanged passwords, sent each other kisses, and rang off.

Mary went on line. She logged onto her Gmail and found nothing interesting, only emails from politicians sharing the latest outrage and asking for money. There was nothing from Mr. Bonami, thank goodness, so Girl Thursday must have been doing a good enough job.

Looking at the bottom of her computer screen, she saw there was an unread text message, and she clicked it. It was from someone named Carmen, and the message was salacious. Working for Mr. Bonami for almost three years as she had, Mary knew all about salacious texting. On a scale from one to ten, she would put this one at a seven or eight.

Mary was startled, confused. Who would send her such a message? She did not know anyone named Carmen, and besides, Mary had no lesbian tendencies or history. She did have lesbian fantasies from time to time, but nobody - absolutely nobody - knew about her lesbian fantasies. Her vibrator kept them a well-kept secret. Reading Carmen's text, however, gave her pause. She unpacked her vibrator, glad she had brought it along on this trip.

Mary stripped naked, and, reading Carmen's salacious text, turned on the vibrator, guiding it lovingly to where it did the most good. Suddenly it dawned on her. She was using Matt's computer. It was his texts that were coming in on the computer, as well as on his iPhone. The texts were not for her!

She put down Sappho, her secret name for her vibrator, and began to go through the history of the text exchange with Carmen that she could find on Matt's computer. As she was going through them, a new text appeared. It was from Matt, asking Carmen for a picture. He got one a few minutes later of a woman's breasts. The picture looked to be taken in the ladies' room near the gate in Newark Airport which typically had flights to Chicago. Mary knew that ladies' room well. She recognized the slight imperfection in the mirror. She was at Newark airport, all right.

Carmen's face was included above her breasts, and Mary was gazing at a Latin beauty. Carmen was a latter-day Sophia Loren. She was not just a beauty, she was relaxed about posing topless in an airport restroom and sending a picture of herself like that over the Internet. She could have been one of Mr. Bonami's women.

More texts confirmed that Carmen was waiting for the next flight to Chicago, and she would be joining Matt. Carmen sent Matt another picture via text, too. This one, she said, was a fond recent memory of Matt, and it was one of a hairy pussy, filled to the brim with a man's bright white cum. The text under the picture was, "No jerking off, Matt. Save it all for me. I'm a hungry girl."

Mary got dressed, and she went down to the hotel bar. It was mostly deserted. All the gold diggers had given up for the night, and or had got lucky. They were all gone. There were only two lonely businessmen there. Mary had her diamond engagement ring on as well as her wedding band, but she was alone, and she clearly looked upset.

One of the businessmen, Diego, came over to her and offered her "a Mojito and a sympathetic ear."

"Is it that obvious?" Mary asked.

"I guess you've just received some bad news. Mojitos and sympathy comprise the best recipe for comfort. And Mitch makes a great mojito. It's all about how you crush the fresh lime." The bartender came over, wearing a Mitch name tag, and asked Mary for her pleasure?

"A mojito, please," Mary said.

"Give her extra mint, and put it on my tab, please," Diego said.

"Right away, Mr. Salazar," Mitch replied, and only minutes later Mary was sipping the best mojito she had ever tasted.

Mary and Diego drank and talked until the bar closed, and it was true. The sympathy Diego offered, plus the mojitos, did the trick. They never discussed exactly why Mary was upset, but it helped to be distracted by charming human company.

Diego escorted Mary to her room, and he made his move to kiss her goodnight. Mary kissed him willingly, and lovingly. Perhaps she kissed him too lovingly (Mojitos can do that to a girl), since Diego's hands took free roam of Mary's perfectly curvy body, and Mary happily let them enjoy her body. She especially liked the loving way his hands had caressed her breasts.

Mary reminded Diego she was married and thanked him for his wonderful comfort in the bar, but now she had to say goodbye.

"I have tomorrow off," Diego said. "If you'd like a tour of the beaches tomorrow, give me a call. Here's my card."

"Thank you," a drunk Mary said. "I might enjoy that a lot. I'll keep it in mind," and then Mary went to her room, stripped naked again, and brought out Sappho. She told Sappho all about what she would have done to and with Diego if she had not been married. Sappho is a good listener.

Susan called her first thing in the morning. "My day off is canceled," she said. "I'm flying to Chicago this afternoon to put out some fires for my company. Want to meet for brunch? I know a great spot. After, I'll head to the airport. I'm so sorry!"

Mary agreed. Is all of Chicago on fire? she wondered. Had Mrs. O'Leary acquired a new lantern and a cow? Susan was surprised the next morning when Mary brought her computer to the brunch and opened it up at the table. She explained what had happened with the computer confusion with Matt.

"You have to see this," Mary said. Susan read the entire text exchange between Matt and Carmen, looking at the pictures of Carmen's pussy filled with Matt's cum, and of her face and boobs in the Newark airport ladies' room. She looked at Mary, and saw tears welling in the corners of Mary's eyes. Susan knew that Mary had no idea her marriage with Matt was doomed. Recently divorced herself, Susan could see the entire future for Matt and Mary playing out. It wasn't pretty. She also knew Mary was in shock, and this was no time to share such thoughts with Mary.

"What will you do?" Susan asked.

"First thing, I'm taking this vacation. Today I'll check out the beaches, and tonight I'll check out those clubs you showed me," Mary said. "I'll get a good book or two, and read them on the beach, and I'll swim until I drop in the hotel pool."

"That's a perfect plan," Susan said. "Do you still wear a string bikini from time to time?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I suggest you check out the north end of Haulover Beach. You may like it," Susan said. Susan knew, perhaps better than Mary herself knew, that Mary was an exhibitionist in the closet, yearning to be free. She had seen the temptations Mary had when she was in college, and she witnessed the battles Mary waged with herself. The closet always won, but might this crisis now push Mary out the door?

Seeing that Mary was about to ask her why she might like it, she added, "It's our clothing optional beach. You'll look quite conservative there in your string bikini. It could be fun."

"Thanks. I'll mention it to Diego," Mary said, without thinking.

"Who is Diego?" Susan asked.

Mary told Susan the story of learning the news last night, the hotel bar and Diego, and her hyper sexy kiss goodnight.

Susan seemed alarmed. "Diego sounds dangerous, Mary. Are you sure you want to play with fire? You know full well the type of men who hang around bars in fancy hotels, preying on rich, sexually frustrated women? Diego sounds like that. Be careful, girlfriend!"

"Good advice, Susan. Don't worry though. Don't forget about my regular job with Mr. Bonami. I know how the world works, especially the sordid side of the world," Mary said.

"Yes, I suppose you do. Well if you want a fling, you could call Richard, the guy we both met last night, and who took me home. I think he might have preferred you to me, actually," Susan said.

"Did he show you a good time?" Mary asked.

"You were there, Mary! We both had fun dancing and talking with him," Susan teased.

"I meant, of course, when he took you home," Mary said.

"A good girl never tells, and you know that, Mary," Susan said.

"Yes, yes I do. I also know you're not a good girl, but you are a good friend," Mary said.

"Well, I will say this. If you decide to let him take you home, or just to take you, you will not be disappointed, no matter what your taste is these days," Susan said.

Mary silently mouthed the word, "Wow."

Susan nodded, saying, "Right." She said it slowly, letting the word linger on her tongue. The way she said it, she made the word 'right' have three syllables.

It was a half hour walk back to the hotel, but Mary enjoyed the sunshine warming her body, and it was not yet even that hot. The heat was supposed to arrive in a couple of days. Weather reports are ubiquitous in Miami Beach, so it was easy to know the forecast.

Mary walked. Since it was warm, she was wearing her shortest skirt, and no hose. The skirt was not all that short, and quite far from being obscene, but she still got some car toots from passing cars. She has long legs, and they're shapely, too, so perhaps that's why. Maybe though it's just because nobody walks down there, and a single woman, in a short skirt and with a good figure, walking along a wide street drowned with cars seems somehow provocative.

Since it was not great beach weather, she decided it might be a better day for the hotel pool. First, however, she wanted to check out Haulover Beach, especially the north end. She ordered an Uber, and went over to the beach. She did not bother to change first, so she was wearing her skirt and blouse, the same clothes she had worn to brunch. This was to be just a look see, after all.

The beach was fairly empty, but she did see a few men who were nude. They looked like gay men to her, and she figured that made sense. She did see one girl, around 18 or 19, who was topless, parading around, and that was about it.

Okay, it was a pool day, for sure. She went back to the hotel, changed into her string bikini, and planned to head out to the hotel pool. Every time she thought of Matt she was close to tears. She needed a damn good book to distract herself. Just before she was to leave the room, she checked Matt's texts one more time. That was just a stupid, masochistic thing to do.

Matt had told Carmen he was all tied up at work and would not be done until around 10pm that night. Carmen had told him she could be tied up, too, and she sent him a picture a couple of hours later of her body, naked, and tied to what looked like a conference table, spread eagle. God, she had a killer body, Mary thought. She's hotter than I could ever be, was Mary's next thought. Under the picture was the text, "Conference Room 12. Ready for you now."

Mary's first thought was how did she do that? How did she tie herself to the table, take a selfie tied up like that, and then send a text, too, while all tied up, both hands and feet? The obvious answer was that she had help. How kinky was this girl? And by extension, how kinky was her own husband Matt? Did she even know Matt as she thought she had? Her final thought was, how kinky can I be? That last question had an easy answer. Not very. She was going to lose if she tried to compete with Carmen on the kinky front.

Did she even want to compete with Carmen? After all, Matt had married her. Carmen was just a distraction, a way to release stress, analogous to Mr. Bonami and all of his bimbos. If anyone could understand that kind of behavior, it was Mary herself. She began to realize that she had married a man who had similarities to the sexual creep she worked for and whose job it was to enable. Jesus.

She saw a text from Steve, the head honcho of the Chicago office of Matt's company. She decided to read it, too. It said, "I let in a woman named Carmen who claims she's your wife. She's waiting for you in Conference Room 12. You have one hell of a wife, Matt."

Matt had not yet answered Steve, when Steve wrote again, "Carmen is nude, tied up, and waiting for you. Would you mind if I had a go with her first? She seems to need some male attention! You married well, my friend. Hubba, hubba."

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