Our First Adult Vacation

"Hey lady, eh una vaina?" I looked up and saw the bartender and snapped back into reality.

I'm not sure exactly what he said, I think he was asking if I was ok, "Oh yeah, I'm ok." I did my best to sound self-assured while coming out of my daze.

He laughed and said some things I can't even begin to try to translate and walked away. My view was cleared across to the other side of the rectangular bar where I saw him. He was leaning with his back to me half on a stool, but I knew it was him. He looked almost as beautiful from the back as he did from the front. His less than perfect posture against the bar made his slender and lean body look even more defined. I could hardly believe he was no more than 10 feet away! I felt the urge to run again, but at the same time I was fixed in my spot.

"He hasn't even noticed me." I thought to myself while examining his every move.

He was surrounded by a few tourists who seemed in their early 60s, they were buying him drinks and they were all having a good time. The half turns he did to reach for his drink were not enough to make our eyes meet. I fretted over ways to get his attention and must have thought of 100 or them, all of which fell short of just going over and talking to him. My stare must have become pretty obvious, after a while one of his drinking buddies leaned close and whispered something in his ear. He turned directly and caught my eyes before I had the chance to turn away. My heart sunk to my stomach as I realized he was coming my way. Still I didn't have it in me to run.

His accent was laid back, thick and pleasant to my ears. None of this relieved me of my fears and the, "wtf am I doing", thoughts. He sensed my fear and I could see the predator in his eyes. He leaned against the bar with his white shirt hanging open; his abs were completely toned. He had left his empty glass on the other side of the bar. Instead of trying to fumble for words I bought him another to let him know his presence was welcome. I had never actually bought a guy a drink before; for some reason it just felt like the right thing to do. He stayed and talked me up, although my single syllable responses could have made wonderful small talk. Soon enough he got to the point.

"What a pretty woman, like ya, doin' ere all by herself?" His eyes focused as if to tell me the game was up.

"I wanted to see you." I said under my breath.

"Your husband?"

"He's at the resort...he's ok..." I said looking down in embarrassment.

He put his finger under my chin and raised my eyes to meet his. He gave me a knowing look that told me that I didn't need to explain any further.

"I's show you d'island?"

"On your boat?"

"Ya man, on the boat."

At that point I realized we were talking about having sex and I didn't even know his name, "What's your name?" I blurted out in an attempt to highlight that point.

"They call me E'ric."

"Can I call you that too?" I said clumsily.

"Pretty woman, you call I whatever ya want. Wha t'is my pleasure?"

I assumed he was asking my name, "I'm Michelle, I'm from Canada."

"We gets no snow here miss Michelle, only da heat." The double entendre was not lost on me.

After a bit more non-descript small talk he invited me to leave the bar with him. I balked at the suggestion, I felt frozen in my spot. My mind was returning to the foggy trance of worry and nerves.

"Eric, I want to go with you, but I'm really scared."

"Ee-t'is your husband?"

"Yeah, I just don't know," I think I sounded whiny, "I don't think I can go through with this, sorry."

"Tell'em ta come."

"Huh?" I screwed up my eyes to punctuate my confusion.

"I's show ya bop zee island."

I stopped in my tracks and let the gears turn in my head, "Were we really talking about the same thing?" I thought with a look on my face that showed the same notion without words.

I tried looking at him from different angles. I wondered if he was crazy. Perhaps there was a language barrier. I am reasonably sure that, "Make love on my boat", means the same in any dialect, nevertheless I found myself wondering.

The wheels were still spinning when he said, "I's be wait here and ya go'an fetch'em."

There was something final about the way he said it, like it was a condition rather than a suggestion. I strolled slowly away from the bar, pausing a number of times to look back at him. He stayed looking relaxed at each glance. His level of relaxation through-out our exchange is hard to exaggerate. As for me, I felt like I could have been shattered by a touch and strangely cold in the heat of the sun.

I jumped through the gate entry hoops and walked slowly to our room. Part of me half expected to find my husband boning some random resortee in there. My palms were cold with sweat and slipped while turning the knob, before I could wipe them off for a better grip the door swung open and my husband was standing there. A quick inspection revealed he was by himself and my fear was pretty misplaced.

"He wasn't there? What happened?" He sounded like he was asking one of our kids to explain why they were out past curfew.

"No he was there?"

"Did you talk? What?"

"I was too scared. I don't know."

"Don't know what?" He was looking at me like I scratched his car or something.

"I mean I don't know!" I said in frustration, "I mean that he said you can come too."

"What do you mean?" He said repeating a theme.

"Just come, ok honey?"

"Why?"

"So I won't be so scared." I looked up with tears starting to well up in my eyes.

My husband's gaze became soft as he realized that I needed him there for emotional support. "Are you sure he's ok with it?"

"Yeah, I just don't want to go alone, ok?" I was trying to choke back my unexplainable tears.

"Yes, honey, whatever you need." He said while pulling me close for an embrace.

"So we can go?"

"Of course baby, we will go."

This day was going from weird to weirder. I could have never imagined this would be our first adult vacation, but the wheels were in motion and I was along for the ride. We walked together, in silence, to the bar. I had had a bit of time to confront the reality of the situation, for my husband that was all happening on our walk. Aside from the obvious signs of nervousness in his demeanour, there was also a quiet sense of commitment; he was not about to back out. He told me later that one of the hardest parts was actually giving my mystery man a real face. If I had gone myself, in a sense, it would have never had to become real for him.

We met Eric at the bar. He was speaking in Spanish to a young pretty girl whom, I think, worked at the bar. I felt jealous seeing her, but it passed quickly as he turned his attention to us and got a small table for the three of us to sit. Colin and Eric were very friendly with each other. My husband can be a real talker, but I know sometimes he does it to cover up his insecurities which he believes people will see if he slows down. This took a bit of the edge off for me; it meant there was no pressure on me to talk. They didn't talk about what we were going to do or about the plan at all. It was just a friendly exchange between a tourist and a local. I sort of became lost in the conversation as they went back and forth. After one drink they, the men, mutually decided to get going without ever defining the purpose.

We walked, with Eric, along the streets outside of the resort. On the streets just outside of the resort, and surrounding area, the tourists were not hard to spot. A few turns later and we saw no more tourists, we were seeing a side of the D.R. that tourists usually don't witness first hand. The roads, unpaved and hardened with dirt, seemed quiet in the hot sun. There seemed to be an excess of jalopies and pick-up, in all various states of disrepair, some seemed like they may have worked and others were hollowed out shells. Likewise, the buildings were, at one time brightly coloured, but now all showed various degrees of fading. There were power lines strung from one place to another, if there was a code I'm sure it wasn't being observed. The middle of the dirt roads were kept clear as if by some unseen force keeping the debris to the margins. The margins were covered with broken furniture, piles of wood, twisted metal, concrete blocks, tires, buckets, old bicycles and dogs; lots of dogs! The children were adorable and seemed to be out and around, at any age, with no supervision.

Many of the buildings looked abandoned to my sensibilities on first glance. They had no windows, the concrete was crumbling in places and they looked untended to. On a closer look, along with the dilapidated shacks, these buildings did serve as homes to some of the people of the island. The contrast between the fantasy and the real world was beginning to come into focus. From the shadows of these building I could feel eyes on us as we passed. I thought back to the online travel guides warning about leaving the resort. I remember the comments that told me, if leaving the resort, to stay to the main roads. There was no doubt that we had violated both suggestions. With that in mind, I felt no fear, the nerves of excitement I felt when we set out had calmed. Eric walked with a presence that made me feel safe, his body language and his eyes told everyone that we were with him. I held my husband's hand as we walked as a unit.

Almost as quickly as we left it, we were back in tourist country. The trip down the back roads had been a short cut to another beach. We got to the water and Eric went to get the boat, which, it became clear, pretty quickly, was not actually his boat. It was a boat for scuba divers, while he didn't own it, he was the captain of it for his day job. Work for him would have ended in the early afternoon and I would be willing to wager he washed up at the bar most of those days. The boat was a little worn from the sun and daily usage, it certainly wasn't a yacht, but it was, at the least, sea-worthy. I took off my shorts and shirt and put them in a plastic dry bag along with my purse and waded out to the boat. The sun wasn't quite setting yet, but it wasn't too far away. After climbing up the ladder and into the boat I retrieved my shorts and put them back on to maintain some semblance of modesty.

The boat was named, "Bikini Bottom", as if it had been named by kid. Bikini Bottom was painted all white and was on her second or third coat as evidenced by the double peeling in certain places. There were no private quarters and no real place where one would expect to find privacy. I started to wonder about what the plan really was here, but I was too timid to ask. If my husband had any reservations he wasn't sharing them, he was talking with Eric while Eric pointed to various landmarks in the area. It felt like we were just a couple of tourists getting a boat tour.

"Where were we going to do it? Did he expect my husband to watch?" I was thinking as I inspected the rest of our surroundings while Eric readied for departure.

Bikini Bottom was small, but had two levels. The captain's seat, and steering wheel, was up top, which was on the roof of a small, but open, cabin. There was nowhere to lay down there, just some places to store things. Bikini Bottom was built for utility and not luxury. At the back is where the divers readied their gear before diving. Around the edges were cylinders where the tanks would fit. In the middle, unlike most dive boats I had been on, there was a padded sort of bench. The padding wasn't thick, more like a gym mat, but it looked like, if anywhere, this would be the place. It was wide enough that I could lay down on it with my legs spread if need be. Eric left us down below and went up to depart.

"Honey, is it ok if I go up there and talk with him...it might make me more comfortable." I really was feeling uneasy about the impending plan.

"Yeah, that's ok." I noticed a courageous look in my husband's eyes when he said this, he was meeting this head on and that inspired me to push on.

"Are you sure you're ok?" I asked sympathetically and in return my husband just gave me a determined nod.

The engine and the wind combined to make a noisy boat ride. I leaned against the metal railing to the right side of the wheel. I tried to stay at the edge of Eric's vision while he was looking forward, but so I would still be able to see his face completely. From where I was, I could also keep an eye on my husband to make sure he wasn't noticeably sick or upset. Eric was less talkative with me than he had been with my husband, he stared straight ahead with a stoic expression on his face. He didn't seem nervous at all, more like the definition of calm. For the first time he seemed a little but cold, which was a bit unsettling.

"Where are we going?" I said loudly in an effort to be heard over the noise.

"We go place private." He made no effort to explain any further.

I wanted to make some sort of conversation, just to try to get my mind off worrying. "Were you born here?" That was the best I could come up with.

"Ya woman, but I's half like you." His expression remained unchanged, but I remembered his startling blue eyes that were now hidden behind sunglasses.

"What do you mean?" I prodded in an effort to seem clueless to get more information.

"I's mean I's from here and he's(his father) is not."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." This was not really true, in fact I wanted to know more, but figured it was wise to drop the subject.

There was a long gap in the conversation. Eric was keeping me on edge. I didn't know quite what to say or how he might react. The truth is that I wanted to know everything about him. I was hoping we would have had a meaningful and deep conversation, but as it turns out he just wasn't the talking sort of guy.

The sun was beginning to set. It was a breathtaking sight to behold. The sun had taken my attention away from Eric. The sun sinking low on the horizon filled me with a sense of wonder and smallness. Orange, red, yellow and blue melted into one another casting the most vibrant pattern on the water. The ripples of the ocean brought the colours to life in a majestic display. Everything in that moment seemed small and insignificant. My mind was relieved of thoughts as I removed my sunglasses and took the time to enjoy the view.

By the time I returned my gaze to Eric his eyes too were free of shades. He looked stunningly beautiful soaked in the sun's last rays. Our eyes met. I immediately became lost in his; they were mesmerizing. No amount of conversation could have possibly said as much as the glance we exchanged.

"You've have da prettiest grey eyes." He broke the silence with, what felt like, his first real compliment of me.

"I was thinking the same thing." I said in all the effect of the dreamy haze that had captured my entire body.

"I meant the same of you...not me!" I corrected myself still bewitched by my suitor.

"We almost d'ere." He said while giving me a knowing glance and turning his attention back to our direction.

We were in a more remote part of the island. Our day trip had taken us some distance from Santo Domingo. The hotels and resorts had long since faded into the scenery, replaced by foliage and some scatterings of rising smoke. Eric brought the boat closer to the shore. The rocks and greenery made it pretty clear that nobody would have had any reason to be in that cliff surrounded bay. It felt very remote. We were too close to the shore to worry about fishing boats and too far from the roads to really worry about people. The last bits of sunshine were struggling to say in the sky when the engine became silent. Where ever we were, we were here.

The silence was almost overwhelming and it brought me back to reality. Eric quickly climbed down the ladder and went to anchor Bikini Bottom. I anxiously made my way to the back area, where my husband was sitting, to check on his state of mind. He was sitting upright, obviously nervous, but not overly distressed.

"Are you still ok?"

"Yeah, what's going to happen?" My husband was a little confused.

This was a confusion that I shared. I didn't know if this was a threesome, if Eric was bi, I knew my husband isn't, but really nothing about this was overly defined.

"I really don't know." Was my less than re-assuring answer.

I was content to let Eric lead the way. One thing that was not lost on me was that we, in all probability, were not his first couple on this boat. The location he brought us to didn't happen by happenstance, it was carefully selected and likely tested. Before we had the chance to commiserate more about our current situation, Eric called my husband to the front area of the boat to, "help", with the anchor.

Front area was clearly separated from the rest of the boat by the roofed area. I couldn't hear what they were talking about or see them very clearly. My husband told me later that Eric was giving him a rundown of the event which were to follow. From the best of his recollection it went like this:

First he told him that I was ready to go and asked him if he was ok. I suppose he picked that up from the looks we exchanged in the sunset. Secondly, he told him that he could watch and masturbate if he wanted to, but to not try to get involved. Lastly, he told him that whatever happened that he was not to interfere. If it became too much he could come to the front area and wait it out. He had my husband repeat the basic, "rules", before they both returned to the back of the boat.

This was really the most awkward part for me. I didn't know how to start this in front of my husband. I still didn't fully trust that he was ok with this or that he was going to be ok once it started. I also realized that we were really at Eric's mercy out here. Eric was younger, fitter and our only way back. There really was no backing out of this even if we wanted to. Eric, rather mechanically, prepared the padded middle island with a blanket and a pillow which appeared from under the deck. It didn't look cozy or anything but at least the vinyl covering wouldn't be abrasive on my skin.

"Come' bit closer woman, I's need to wash ta salt off."

He was talking about the salt water from swimming out to the boat. Beside the bench he had a bucket that was filled with fresh water. He insisted that this would make it more comfortable for me. I think it was just a way to initiate contact without calling direct attention to it. The water was lukewarm, but felt a little bit cold to the touch. Eric used a thin cloth and he started at my legs. I was standing in front of him, and he was sitting on the freshly blanketed padded island-bench.

He relieved me of my shorts. His touch was gentle and smooth, but I was trembling noticeably. I kept my eyes tight shut in an effort not to look at my husband. I imagined rage building up in him from watching a man touch me so intimately.

"You's gots'a beautiful wife man." He addressed Colin while slowly working his way up my thighs.

I heard my husband swallow loudly before managing to say, "yeah, she's very lovely"

"You's be very lucky." I felt his finger run beside my bikini covered pussy as he said this.

His fingers were long and gentle. He was inviting me to relax but I still felt very tight. Each time I took a breath I felt like I was holding it a bit longer. If I exhaled completely I may have deflated completely and fell to the deck. He kissed my stomach and his hands worked their way around my ass. I was getting felt up in front of my husband. I kept my eyes closed and reached down to feel his shoulders and try to give an indication that his caresses were welcome. I didn't want to show too much passion or be too eager, my husband's feeling were very much on my mind. Instead, I let Eric lead the way.

He unbuttoned my shirt, I dropped my shoulders and let it fall to the deck. I was feeling my exposed. Eric was kissing my body softly around my stomach and hips. His hands were becoming bolder in the exploration. His touches had invited me to separate my legs slightly to let his fingers glide gently over my pussy. Eric was very slender, but his shoulders felt muscular and powerful to the touch and I continued to feel them.