Outer Banks - Road Trip 01

I am a mature bi woman. Many of my stories, originate in memories and events in my life. All contain a combination of real and fictional characters with names changed as appropriate to protect the 'guilty.' They are often memoirs spiced with a kinky imagination.

I hope you will enjoy my stories and comment on what you liked and perhaps didn't like to help me improve.

My Outer Banks series is the story of my life with Marjorie, a new love. The most recent story in this series, 'Outer Banks -- Maine' was published in 05/22. This new story, 'Outer Banks -- Road Trip' is a delayed continuation of the Outer Banks series so I will do my best to summarize how we got to this point.

The first story in the series, 'Outer Banks -- Marjorie,' tells about meeting Marjorie and what we initially learned about each other.

The beginning .....

On an early morning walk I met a woman who looked to be about my age. We said hello at the same time, nice and easy. We walk and talk and I find out her name is Marjorie, yes the old fashioned spelling.

When we approached my house she still had some distance to travel so I invited her in for morning coffee. Sitting on my deck under the awning I learn a little more about her and we talk about what it is like to live in a small space and about rentals. I explain that I own the cabin I live in and give her the five second tour. Like it was scripted she said it was exactly what she wanted. I told her the name of the rental agent for the cabin next door but did not tell her I own it.

Talking to her is like reading a book by opening it at random places. Disconnected snippets of her life and history, her opinions about politics and her views on sexual relationships and simple friendship. Like looking in a mirror on some things, polar opposites on others.

We talk about her deceased husband, a dentist, my wife Beth, now also gone, and both of our families. When I mentioned Beth she said she had 'girlfriends' off and on her entire life. I don't know why, I didn't really take offense, but I felt a need to clarify and told her that Beth was more than just a girlfriend, she was my wife.

Marjorie just smiled and told me that she understood but the only difference, she thought, was that she was married and had a husband she loved and one child by him when she met the first woman she loved. She was, I felt, very open and honest with me, a virtual stranger, about her sexuality almost to the point of being blunt. She told me it all worked out when, after struggling with the problem, she was honest with her hubby and shared that woman and later others with him. Marjorie told me how she felt the first time the three of them were together, being jealous of both and not really wanting to share either. She smiled, touched my hand and told me she didn't know why she was telling me all this, she had never shared those feelings with anyone.

She ended the conversation in an interesting way, almost inviting me to push the subject, by saying that even as she moves into her sixties she still loves sex but now, complicated relationships are more difficult to manage and most often unnecessary for sexual relief and pleasure, that sex for her these days is better characterized as 'catch and release.'

She said, that if chemistry is there sex might follow, then again maybe not, but never really more than sex and perhaps friendship, most often not love. Marjorie explained further that her relationship with her hubby was, she thought, very traditional with him almost always taking the initiative in sex. Her 'other life' as she put it, the women in her life over the years, the times with both her hubby and a current woman, was just the opposite with her taking a decidedly dominant role.

Marjorie is 61. I initially think, but do not know, that she is mixed race. Light olive skin, perhaps part Italian with maybe some Hispanic ancestors. In this day of often blended race my imagination runs wild. Could she just be a White girl with an early summer tan?

We part company both saying we hoped to see each other again. When she bends to stand I see very clearly that she is wearing a thong and her revealed pale butt cheeks hint that her olive skin elsewhere may indeed be just that early summer tan. A long, also colorful, scroll tattoo is on her low back partly hidden just below the waist of her shorts.

As she walks away I see from her toned very defined legs that she, like me, spends a lot of time walking. I see her look back at the rental cottage. She sees me watching and smiles and waves. I watch her walk and see more clearly the tan lines of her halter top and shorts covering very clearly defined muscular butt cheeks working under the fabric as she walks.

I find myself wondering if when people watch me walking away they think I also look sexy. I sometimes, ok often, think the most sexy, most beautiful part of a woman's body is her butt and legs.

~~

The rental agent called me on Monday afternoon. There is an offer to lease the cottage through Thanksgiving at a price lower than weekly rentals but...cash in advance and with the pandemic rentals have been far from dependable. The cabin is less rented after Labor Day as well, so I take the offer. I asked if Nancy, the rental agent, had done a background check and she confirmed, Marjorie Driscoll, a recent widow, 61 years old, retired special needs teacher, a perfect credit score, three adult children, two grandchildren who will be visiting and a small dog that she needs permission to have with her in the cabin. I asked Nancy to not say anything about me owning the cottage.

Another door opens? At least a friend I think. Someone to walk the beach with? Sex? A foolish old Black woman thinks foolish things.

~~

Traffic was abysmal and the drive from Charleston took me the better part of the day. I arrived home just as the sun was setting. A few cars and a small camper van were parked behind and along side the rental cabin. Marjorie's family had arrived. I parked in my new carport and took my few bags inside. As I sat on the deck drinking a Sam Adams 'Summer' beer watching the fading sunset, Marjorie approached from the beach with a young girl in tow. She introduced me to her granddaughter Elise and invited me to a barbecue they had planned for the following day. I of course accepted the invitation.

That evening the sound of children playing and laughing next door was something new for my little house. Something new in my life. Something I welcomed.

The following day I was introduced to Marjorie's children, their spouses and a long list of young children. Everyone is happy, laughing and enjoying the day. Over the next two days I watched as Marjorie took countless pictures of everyone and everything that happened. Two days later they all left, a small ceremony with each departing family.

It seemed that as quickly as it started it was over.

~~

Morning walk, beautiful sunrise and a voice from behind me, Marjorie.

"Good morning Robin."

"Good morning Marjorie. Did everyone get back home ok?"

Marjorie was walking alongside, "Thank you Robin, they did, and thank you for tolerating all the noise."

"The sound of children playing and laughing is not noise at all."

Marjorie thanked me for renting her the cabin. When I feigned ignorance she just smiled and explained honestly that her son is with the FBI and when the rental agent ran a background check he was alerted.

"Robin, I really do appreciate the opportunity to rent 'Dolphin', I need a place to regroup after all that has happened."

Marjorie asked if I wanted to join her for beer and burgers and maybe an evening walk. I agreed to come over around six.

In the heat of the summer I enjoy my outdoor shower. Now with some remaining work to be done on my connected carport my shower only has privacy from the beach but only Marjorie might see me so when we returned I showered. I saw her on her deck. Watching?

At six when I climbed her steps she was on the deck painting. I looked and what she was doing was painting portraits of her grandchildren from pictures she had taken with her phone. Marjorie is a good artist! She explained that she would paint each child and if possible each family and send it to them as a souvenir of the weekend together.

I discovered something new. Marjorie, like me, when she invites someone to dinner, is really asking that they join her in preparing dinner. We cooked, we ate, we drank, we ate, we talked, we laughed and we ate still more.

Marjorie continued to be disarmingly honest. She told me that she had watched me shower and that she very much wanted to paint a picture of me. I asked, "Do you mean in the shower, naked?

She did not hesitate. "Robin, I could be careful how I say this but why not just be honest? You have a beautiful body and I have lived a racially sheltered life. I would love to paint a naked full body picture of you. You are a beautiful black woman." She waited.

When I did not reply she asked me to stand. She took her phone and took a picture of me and showed it to me. "See, you are beautiful!"

I smiled and said, "I never though of myself as 'beautiful', 'hot' maybe but not beautiful."

Marjorie laughed and said, "I didn't say you were not 'hot' but you are beautiful, let me show you."

I really had no idea what was about to happen but I did not have long to wait nor did I resist in any way.

Marjorie approached me and pulled my top off over my head. As she unfastened my bra the backs of her hands touched my nipples and set off a reaction. She was taking pictures as she took my clothes off. When I was completely naked, except for a thong, she pushed me to sit in a chair and continued to take pictures, some very intimate, showing me each picture.

Only once before had someone taken pictures of me naked and I enjoyed watching the obvious physical reaction she was having. Her nipples were pushing hard to escape from her own top.

I asked her if she would paint from the pictures she was taking. She said, "Oh, no. These pictures are just to prove to you how beautiful your body is. You will have to pose for me."

She was sitting right next to me and when I told her I would do it she put her hand on my thigh and leaned in and kissed me, a tentative testing the waters kiss.

I returned her kiss but I wanted more and stood and pulled her up and close. In an instant her top was gone and our breasts were pressing hard against each other.

We were in bed and I was looking at the color differences in our bodies. My black skin against the brown of her chest, arms and legs and the pale white of her breasts and hips was very erotic.

~~

The next story in the series, 'Outer Banks -Portrait,' tells the continuing tale of my time with Marjorie as our relationship evolved and I learned of her talent as an artist.

Marjorie has moved into my cabin with me and begun working at the nearby resort almost every day, doing caricatures of tourists. Occasionally I join her, other days I remain at the cottage and work on my book.

She has finished my portrait. Not the one I expected but a pose with me in a beach chair with just the curve of my partially exposed breast and the side of my thigh and curve of my butt showing. She has modified the pose and in the image I am looking directly at the viewer. My lips and nails are red and she has somehow magically captured the hint of green in my eyes. I love it.

She tells me she has a surprise for me later in the day and without a hint she leaves for the resort.

At around noon a small motor home, a Rialta, arrives and parks behind Marjorie's cabin. I know it is a Rialta because it says so on the side. It's the same little camper van that was here on the Fourth of July. I go out to say hello to her son, the FBI guy, and his wife. They explain that they are early, I didn't know they were visiting, but I invite them in and it's my lucky day. They like beer!

We are settled in on the deck when Marjorie returns. She says hello to everyone, kisses all around and goes in the house, gets a beer and joins us. As she sits down she kisses me. Not a peck on the cheek but a real rather deliberate kiss. If there was a fan on my deck the shit would have hit it.

When I look at the 'FBI guy' son he is smiling. His wife appears to be in, mouth wide open, shock. In the next hour, and into the evening, we all would learn a lot.

Her son it seems was told by Marjorie that she and I were perhaps more than just neighbors. He had, I didn't know 'FBI guys' were cowards, not told his wife.

Marjorie, I learned, had traded them her almost new Range Rover for the little motor home and she had arranged transfer of all the registrations and license plates.

Was the motor home somehow the surprise I didn't know I wanted that she mentioned earlier? I'd have to wait to find out.

The four of us go out to dinner and when we return 'FBI guy' and his wife sleep in the rental cabin, 'Dolphin' and will be leaving early in the morning.

Although a lot of Marjorie's 'worldly goods' are in the rental cabin, Marjorie and I have chosen to live in my cabin, at least for now. Yes, I have named the cabins, mine 'Herron' and the rental, Marjorie's cabin, 'Dolphin.' I even went out and bought those signs that until then I thought we're quite tacky. As I nailed it in place over the beach side door I was thinking that a dark feathered Great Blue lives it's life with all the other shore birds. They live in harmony. If only we humans could always do the same.

Finally Marjorie and I are alone and I can ask, "What's going on with the motor home?"

We are in bed and her face is an inch from mine, God she smells so good, "Yes the Rialta is the surprise but it's only 'your surprise' if you agree to get in it with me and travel." Before I could say anything she continued, "I feel sometimes like I am just an old lady, waiting to die. I need to see this country and it's people and draw their faces while I still can."

I'm uncomfortable with not having discussed this idea ahead of this decision she seems to have made. I start to say something but she senses something wrong and puts her finger on my lips and continues, "I will sell my home in Tennessee, and you could sell your house in Florida and that will give us all the money we need to travel as long as we want to." Now, not only is she assuming I'm going along with this but that I will help finance it.

We are both naked. Hell, her idea is romantic and I don't want to be a spoiler so I pull her closer and kiss her without saying anything. I need time to think this through. Our nipples touch.

Like we have been together forever and as though I said 'I love you', I didn't, she says, "I love you more."

~~

From the most recent story 'Outer Banks - to Maine' ......

We didn't talk any more about the Rialta or travel that night. Her hand found it's way to my hip when she kissed my lips and then my breast and nipple and I surrendered to her touch. It seemed like we should be talking but our bodies wanted something simpler, something more basic.

Marjorie has a tattoo bracelet on her right wrist, narrow but extremely detailed and colorful. When she touches my face with her hand I kiss that wrist, that bracelet. She notices and says, "I'll buy you one as we travel. I know the best tattoo artists on our way north." She also has a blue Dolphin tattooed to the left side of her neck with a date under it, a baby she lost when they first married.

This night she is less aggressive than usual. I like sex with this less dominant, less aggressive Marjorie, we have been here before she and I. Eventually, both satisfied, we fall asleep.

I do not sleep well and very early the next morning, before dawn, I awake. I glance at Marjorie and she is sound asleep. I can see in the moonlight coming through the bedroom window that the light weight covers have fallen away from her revealing the outward swelling of her hips and the curve of her untanned butt cheeks and breasts. She is still, as I am, completely naked and her long tanned legs trail off to the end of the bed. I lean in, kiss her hip gently and I am filled with the strong musk of her sex I love so much. I pull the covers over her and smile, happy she is my woman, in my bed.

I'm up and with shorts, a tee shirt and black coffee, I'm on the beach. It is still dark, the sun hours away. A glance at my watch, 4:15 a.m. I walk on in the moonlit darkness. I'm alone on the beach but it won't be long before the usual sunrise seekers arrive.

As I walk I am not worried but I am not happy. This is all happening too quickly. I have to slow it down. It was only three weeks ago that I returned from a month in my Florida house. Marjorie had refused to join me in Florida citing some commitment at the resort where she 'worked.' She is not an employee, they allow her to draw tourists for a small fee because they see a resident artist as good for business.

I am troubled by last nights conversation. I'm not even sure I would call it a conversation, she talked, I listened. Oh, it all went well on the surface but I am not sure I am ready for what she is proposing. These cabins have been my escape for a long time. Oh sure, I go to my Florida house now and then but most of the time it is rented and my last trip there did not end well. I feel that I cheated on Marjorie with that woman Jillian in Florida, and I again escaped to the Outer Banks. I am rationalizing that 'cheating' is only how I feel, not what really happened. I had hoped for more but it seems that Marjorie and I are destined to be only friends and sex partners.

Maybe this offer to travel signals more. Maybe. I hoped so but when I returned from Florida two things happened that shook my confidence. As I was unpacking and putting some cosmetics and personal things away I found a toothbrush in the bathroom wastebasket. I imagine it is one of the many toothbrushes I have saved from appointments with my dental hygienist. The proverbial 'in case someone sleeps over and needs one tooth brush. The discarded packaging is also in the wastebasket.

I honestly should have no expectations about Marjorie's fidelity to me or anything like that and I'm still feeling bad about Florida and Jillian. We have not talked about our relationship that way at all. Suddenly, I'm tired and feel old and somewhat confused.

I did eventually ask Marjorie about the tooth brush as casually as I could. She responded honestly I think, "Oh, a friend had a little too much to drink at dinner and slept over." Like it was nothing. I'm so insecure, I find myself trying to figure out how, having been here only a few months, she suddenly has a friend I never met over for dinner while I'm away. Let it go Robin, let it go.

Then, a second thing happened. While washing the bed an earring fell out from among the sheets. A single gold stud with a Tanzanite stone. Not mine and there is no match in her little jewelry tray on her night stand. I did not ask. I simply placed it on the hight stand near the tray. A day later it was gone and she never said a word. Let it go Robin, let it go.

When I noticed it was gone I looked again in the tray and in her nightstand drawer while she was at the resort. In the drawer we're a few simple things, a small flashlight, lip gloss and some letter envelopes tied with string. Yes, I did what I never should have done. I looked at a few of the letters, all postmarked from Tennessee where Marjorie was from, one postmarked from Maine. The first letter, postmarked weeks before I met Marjorie, was from a woman, Julie, expressing condolences over the passing of Marjorie's husband. Very personal words, Julie it seems had a very intimate relationship with Marjorie and her husband. This is where a sane person would have stopped and put them all back but noooooo not me. Let it go Robin, let it go.