Naked Girl on the Island

I nodded again.

He looked now in Louise's direction.

"I think you hit the jackpot, Honey. Just think? Our own machinery guru! I've been wanting someone like that on my staff for years. Now you found me one!"

Well, I was getting embarrassed, but that was okay. It was past time I should be sitting at my desk working on our new version of a rake-off table we hoped to use for that Wyoming mill job.

Louise went back to my house—our house—with her father, but not until after she'd said, "Goodbye and have a good day at work, Honey. I love you," to me at my car's window. I figured she and Mr. Pendergast would spend all day discussing me, how she and I would live the rest of our lives, and our present 'residential' limitations.

My work phone rang at 11:30. I picked it up, expecting the caller to be a representative from our customer wanting to verify or alter some feature on the section of the stacker upgrade I was working on. But no, it was Louise.

"What time you get off work for lunch, Honey?" she said in the manner she used when she had sex or something similar on her mind.

"Twelve o'clock. Back at work at One."

"Good. I booked us a noon room at Hillside Gardens Motel. Room 201. Park in the back of the lot, and come up the back stairs. I'll be ready for you, you just wait and see!"

Yes, I could guess how she'd be dressed—or for that matter, undressed. My, my. How my life had changed since the start of my vacation this year!

When I arrived at Room 201, I knocked confidently, but uncertain of the details. The door latch rattled, a hand reach around the barely open door, grabbed me by the shirt collar, and all but lifted me into the room.

"Oh, Lover, do I want you!" my contracted wife said in a pinched voice. "How can you go to work and get anything done? I can't do anything but long to have you hold me, kiss me, caress my breasts, and real soon, I want you inside me. Don't you want me like that?

"Come on, for god's sake, Lance, throw me on the bed and give me some of your great johnny. Please? Or let me suck it? Or something, quick, Honey?"

By now I was at the edge of the bed. I know she had this all planned. She fell on her back under me, and by the time I realized how we were, she'd already directed me inside her.

"That's better, don't you think?" she said softly, as she moved under me and put what little of me that wasn't fully entrenched inside her, inside her.

"I been just jittery I wanted you so bad."

"I been wanting a lot, too, Louise."

"Does being pregnant make the woman want the man of her dreams inside her so far she can taste him in her throat"

I sure a hell didn't know. But no doubt I liked being this close to her.

"How we doing for time? You gotta be back when?"

"Gotta be back at ten 'til."

"Then get with it, Lance. Fill me up, squirt inside me, do what I know you can. Please? I want it so bad!"

Did she really have to tell me? Mostly, I think this was what she did instead of screaming her passion as she rocketed up summit mountain. I know what I did, and it was wonderful.

She threw her arms around me and all but squeezed the wind out of me. I arched my back and thrust everything I had inside her. My body did its deed, certain if she wasn't already pregnant from her abductors, she was now pregnant by her contracted husband. WOW!

"Oooh!" I moaned as my climax subsided.

"Did I get you good, Lance?" she whispered.

"Sure did, Baby!"

"Good. Now let me give you a good suck before you gotta go back to work. I don't want you having anything but the best afternoon possible." With that, she crawled over, sucked me into her mouth such that I would have sworn she swallowed all of me. What a delightful feeling that was! Nicely complemented by her breasts sliding against my thighs. Where had she learned that?

I made it back to my office just barely in time. The guy in the office next to mine made some comments about lunch hour being too short for what most guys our age really wanted for lunch. I kept my mouth shut and only chuckled silently to myself. What I needed to do now was get my work done and not think about what Louise would have waiting for me when I got home.

The office bullshitter swung by to get a report on my vacation. Here again, I had to keep my mouth shut about what I'd really enjoyed most up in BC.

"Catch anything interesting?" he said.

I nodded, and brought up my first day's rockfish catch.

"I hear they're really good eating. Big enough you got a couple meals out of it?"

I nodded again. I didn't even consider mentioning those herring I'd considered snagging if necessary to put fish on my plate.

"See any new scenery this year?"

Like my naked-on-the-beach contracted wife and what had led to that? How would I explain that, I ask you? I settled for 'went to pretty much the same old places.' He seemed satisfied with that, and in a few more moments, he wandered off down the hall to see if the sales crew had anything new on the East Africa project. I just had to get my brain headed more toward the Wyoming mills project and not think about how wonderful Louise had just made me feel. Wouldn't be easy, I knew!

To give me a bit more recuperative time, I stayed a few extra minutes at work, which turned out a good thing I did. My boss, the owner and brains behind this new rake-off deck I was working on, came by my office on his way up front, and we did a quick review of where I stood on that, and the fact he was pleased with a new idea of mine he was just to hear about. As we beat that into submission, we concluded we could make it work, and that promised to cut 18% from our cost, while making the machine 7% faster, and more rugged to boot.

Just as we finished that off and he'd turned up the hall, he remembered something else and turned back.

"You must have run into some important guy up there. He said your boat was moored next to his. Sounded as if his was pretty big." His voice held a hint that I should elaborate.

Well, I could handle that. "Hundred and thirty feet by my guess."

"He sounded quite impressed with you. I think if you'd only asked, he'd have given you a tour of his big mill up there north of Crandall River."

I'm sure it would have take much less than a request—probably no more than my slightest hint of interest!

"He said he is considering a new stacker line, and if you get up that way again, he'd show you the whole works."

Yes, I'll bet he would!

"If you want, Lance, I'll buy you a plane ticket up."

Well, what could I say to that? I mean without giving away family secrets?

***

As things settled down for Louise and me, Mr. Pendergast took to flying his company jet down to our home town once each month or so—I'm sure to supervise (without doing so obnoxiously) Louise's and my progress toward truly being man and wife. Eventually we got him out of the 'stay in a hotel' mode and into the 'stay with us mode'; I think he finally discovered sharing our one bathroom wasn't all that bad. But while he visited, my new wife and I had to schedule our bedroom activities to coincide with bathroom availability.

And, about one weekend a month, she and I rode his Cessna up to Crandall River and stayed at his expansive home and enjoyed the luxury that went with having a houseful of domestic help. On our third trip up (not counting the 'business' one my sawmill equipment manufacturing employer bought the ticket for) a new face appeared among the Pendergast household staff.

Her name was Celeste. She'd been widowed a year and a half before in a freak logging truck accident at the other end of the island, and being almost a newlywed yet, had zero resources once her husband's meager unemployment/job-injury insurance ran out. So, Mr. Pendergast put her on his domestic staff in a sort of 'go-fer' role. She did much of the household's grocery shopping, arranged to have its eleven vehicles serviced, worked at the Pendergast Timber Products office, too, as the company travel agent, and arranged and scheduled the company jet so Mr. Pendergast got where he needed to go when he needed to be there. In general she made life easier for the whole household staff and Pendergast Timber's employees.

Often she joined the staff serving, but just as often sat with us and the rest of the seated staff at the dinner table. Yes, I know this was somewhat irregular in most situations, but that was the Pendergast regular situation: The staff not serving ate with the rest like family—I think, because most were.

Louise had never told me how every-day seating arrangements were determined, but I noticed when Celeste didn't serve, she somehow managed to sit next to me, on my opposite side from Louise. Perhaps Louise set this up so I'd get acquainted with her cousin? Well, I did, whether or not Louise had managed this into being, and I'd found Celeste quite enjoyable as a dinner table acquaintance.

But often, whatever had gone on between her and me and Louise didn't end when we finished desert. Several times a walk through the Pendergast estate's gardens ensued, or a tennis match, a trip down to the docks and a stroll around there, a stroll around the city's largest park, or an extended splash in the Pendergast Olympic-standard pool. And when time came for Louise and me to say good night to Celeste, the good night kiss Celeste hung on me was enough to put stars in my eyes and cause me—the newly appointed bridegroom—to consider things my ethics said I shouldn't consider. The fact I stumbled around in a haze when she broke her kiss was unnerving and embarrassed me in front of Louise. But, I did my best to be a 'good husband'. I tried my best not to let Celeste get to me, only enjoy her being around when she was, and enjoying Louise all the time she was nearby and dreaming of her when Celeste wasn't.

You could tell they were cousins, at least height-wise. But while Celeste was blonde, Louise was definitely brown haired, almost bordering on red. But they walked alike, talked alike, and shared mannerisms that strongly hinted they were twins. Being so alike, it was easy to like them both.

About six months into my first year as an 'arranged marriage, contract husband' my 23^rd birthday rolled around. Louise spent most of the mouth before in a 'semi-dither' which I assumed arose from her wanting to give me something better than ever to commemorate my birth. But of course, anything she chose and delivered with her body would be just fine with me, you can bet, and I hinted in that direction, but to no avail. Everything she gave me during the intervening month was wonderful—and I did my best to make my appreciation known—but while she returned my appreciation, I knew she had something much greater in mind.

My birthday fell on Friday, and when I made my usual mid-afternoon, 'Hello there, my wonderful wife' phone call to let her I'd come right home from work that evening, not run any errands, and hoping she'd give me a brief, before-supper sample of what I hoped my night-long birthday present would be. But our home phone rang with no answer.

When I tried her cell phone, the answer I got included over-powering ambient noise, noise so loud I could barely make out her voice.

"Hello? Louise?"

"Hi, Lance, Honey."

"Where are you? Sounds really noisy."

"It is.

"So?"

"I'm here getting your birthday present. I hope you like it. I want to give you something you'll never forget."

"With you, Baby, that's every time we make love. I'll be home right at 5:30. How about you give me one of your presents then?"

"I will, Lance, But I want to give you something even better later, when we really celebrate after supper."

Obviously, she was still on that kick, but I'd find out tonight. So I hit the END button and went back to work—in spite of my vision of her naked body lying on my design table next to my side-by-side CAD screens. Oh, what a woman!

Well, I'm a sucker for really good pizza, and we had a great pizza joint only a few blocks away on Central Avenue, and being Louise knew about my love affair with pizza, I wasn't the least bit surprised she brought home pizza to celebrate my birthday. In fact I was glad she'd chosen supper fare that used the smallest amount of the bodily energy she would need later that evening.

I have no idea where my birthday card came from, but it was a dilly. No gushy prose, just gentle words that when considered en-total, made me so glad I'd agreed to sign our marriage contract. I still couldn't believe I'd been so lucky and found Louise on Barely Island.

"Now?" she said. "Ready for your big present?"

I suppose I nodded, but maybe I didn't.

"I hope you like it. I couldn't make up my mind, So Daddy and everyone helped."

I was sure I'd like it, whatever it was. I'm not an idiot!

"You ready?"

I nodded. I was.

"Okay, Birthday Present. Come on out."

Out stepped Celeste!

WHAT? She wore a blouse tight enough to show off those quite adequate breasts of hers, and slacks tight enough to leave no question the rest of her was equally desirable.

Then she smiled a reserved smile before stepping over to my side and tipping my face up so she could plant another of those goodnight kisses on me.

"You like what I found for your present, Lance?"

Could I find strength to answer that? I went numb, I guess. I went something, anyway, I'm sure!

"Well, aren't you going to unwrap your present? Don't you like it? I can't take it back. There's a non-return policy on presents like this—something having to do with good manners, gentleman-lyness, and thoughtfulness."

I nodded—I think.

Celeste looked into my eyes, her smile firmed up.

"My blouse, Lance," she said. "You're looking right at the first button you should take loose."

Yes, I was, and that blouse was full. So I did what seemed prefect at the time. As my hand touched her below the neck, she whispered with intake of a new breath, "Oh, so wonderful. I've wanted your touch there ever since the first time I saw you."

I wasn't sure what I'd wanted since the first time I saw her—maybe all sorts of lust mixed together?

"Next button, please?"

Could I refuse? And soon I was pulling the blouse's hem from inside her slack's waistband.

"Slip my blouse off my shoulders, please?

So I did, and those beauties hung there in a bra that barely contained them.

"Like me?" she said.

"Like her?" Louise said, as sort of an echo.

Oh, I did—if I could just get my breath! I looked over toward Louise, wondering what I should say—or do—or what?

"Yes," I finally whispered so slowly and softly I wasn't certain either woman heard me.

"Celeste? Don't worry, he's usually much better at getting clothes off me." With that Louise giggled. "Now, Lance, undo her slacks and take them off. And her shoes. You'll get to the interesting parts pretty soon."

Yeah, I bet!

Celeste didn't wait. She bent and tipped her shoes off, then unhooked her slacks' belt. How she did that so quickly, I didn't see. What I did see as those slacks dove for the floor was the pair of legs I had just visualized inside those slacks the first moment I saw her tonight.

"It's okay to touch, Lance. You and I are going to touch a lot getting to know each other."

I looked toward Louise, me still mostly in shock.

"I'm glad to see you like your present. A real man needs two women."

I did? Or was I only kidding myself and I wasn't a real man?

"He needs one—to be his wife. And he needs another—to be his mistress. Am I right, Celeste?"

The woman closest to me nodded. "You still have more unwrapping to go," she whispered.

Yes, I did, and was thankful she wore no stockings. I'm sure those could be treacherous to an under trained guy like me! But those more central things—are those barely-there things called panties? or something else?—I had no inkling how they came off!

"You better take the rest off, Celeste. He's suffering pantie fright. You two may never get to bed if you wait for him."

A moment later, a naked blonde stood before me. She looked toward Louise and said, "I gotta handle him all alone? Aren't you gonna help me?"

"All yours, Celeste. You signed on for this, and now you're on stage. Take him away, and remember all those things your Uncle Walter showed you, as well as the other fun things you've learned from being a wife. You'll do fine. Just be patient with Mr. Slowpoke here, and in the morning you'll both be so happy you'll wonder how you could ever be sad."

At this point, I had little choice. I followed my naked birthday present to Louise's and my bedroom, wondering as I went, how this would play out. One girl (my new mistress) tonight? A different girl (my wife) tomorrow night? Maybe both of them the next night? Or perhaps no woman that night because my wife got pissed off and had her father void our marriage contract? Oh, well. This birthday present had been her idea—but then again women are a strange lot, and I was a mere man foundering in nearly unfamiliar waters.

Once in the bedroom, Celeste said, "Do I remove your clothes? Or do you?"

"I'll get the shoes and socks, you get the rest?"

"Sounds good to me, just so we get both of us together in bed."

"What about Louise? Is this okay? I mean, I ...."

"You love her, don't you?"

I nodded. "Sure."

"And she loves you, I know. So take it from there."

"But?"

***

When the bedroom's interior took on a slight hint that morning would arrive, I woke enough to ask my brain what I had done last night, where I had done it, and with whom I had done it.

Had the most marvelous sex, with someone I'd never had sex with before, in my bed at home, and right now, somehow, things felt as if there was a woman on either side of me. Yes, I had and yes there was.

"Morning, Honey," Louise said, softly, the way she always did when she woke me. I came awake with a jerk.

"I just dreamed ...."

"That I gave you a night with my cousin, Celeste, for your 23^rd birthday present?"

I nodded.

"Well, I did, and she's still here."

OH?

"You two must have really gone at it. She's still sound asleep, and that gives me an idea. Want to fuck me as much as I want to fuck you? If we wake her up. That's tough. She'll just have wait her turn." A hand reached across my middle, found my only somewhat recovered johnny, and began Louise's favorite exercise for bringing me to the ready. In a moment, I was in her grips of a developing erection.

But as I noted this, the body on my other side moved.

"Louise? That you?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, I'm so pooped out I don't know if I can ever make love again. He's really something, and I want him again, but I don't think I can."

"You just don't worry about him, Celeste. I'll get him, and then if you want him you can have what's left of him."

At this assault on my manhood, I came to—in spite of my lack of unconsumed energy. "Ladies, Ladies, Please. Let me rest."

"Oh, listen to him! he's still worn out. I'll get him off, Celeste; he can rest afterwards."

"I should have asked, Louise. How you do him first?"

"I get him hard, then swallow his johnny." Yes, she did. "And then massage him and keep swallowing until he comes. He likes that, and I do, too."

"Make him com down your throat?"

"Try it. You'll like it."

"I will?"

"Sure you will, because he will."

"Oh." Her inflection on this one syllable hinted at, 'Oh, now I understand!'

I never did ask, but my assumption has always been that Mr. Pendergast postponed his monthly trip so my birthday did not fall on a weekend he visited Louise and me—and now Celeste. My women cooked, served, and ate breakfast with me—naked—and flirted every minute of it. If I said it was one hell of a weekend, I'd have understated. Come Monday morning, I had a hour to make up after work, because I was that late—and that used up.