Proclivities - Pt. 03: The Bikini

Part III -- The Bikini

I woke the following morning having once more slept later than normal. Again, the sun was shining brightly and it looked like it would be beautiful day. Although George was absent - so he's an early riser, I can live with that - yesterday's anxiety was replaced by contentment as I hugged my pillow and grinned. Eww, my face is so crusty! Another sheepish grin as I recalled the reason and then I spied a robe neatly folded at the foot of the bed, but to my surprise, it wasn't the same white one from yesterday. It was black satin with white piping around the edges. Near the bathroom door my purse rested atop my duffle bag. Damn, that man was a walking contradiction! So thoughtful, but equally demanding when I needed it. Oh my god, another revelation! But how did he know that? Or, as he might say, was I the happy match to his proclivities? Either interpretation was perfectly acceptable. Who wants to argue with happiness?

Joyfully, I leapt from the bed, grabbing the robe in the same motion and trotted to the bathroom. Just like yesterday, a fresh towel lay folded on the vanity and I tossed the rob beside it, followed by a much needed stop on the toilet.

I stood and went to the shower. It was wet, so obviously he'd used it earlier, and, just as obviously, I'd slept through it. And what's this? Hanging next to the blue scrubby I'd used yesterday was a new pink one. As with so many things, he anticipated my needs. So basic, and, yet so endearing.

The first order of business was washing my face. Next my hair. As I soaped up the scrubby, I remembered Siu's advice about exfoliating my newly waxed pussy. However, before I did, I couldn't resist sliding my fingers across it. Wow! Definitely different, but definitely better too. So soft, so smooth, so slick. Consider me converted. But enough dawdling! I scrubbed my pussy vigorously, and, damn, that felt good too! Now for the rest of me.

As I dried off before the vanity mirror, I paused to drink in my reflection. I'd never done so before. Previously self conscious, I'd always hurried to get myself covered. But not now. I admired my breasts and, oh yes, my smooth pussy, then turned to reveal my ass, recalling how George had introduced me to the heretofore unknown erogenous zone with his tongue and thumb. So unexpected and yet, I had accepted the delightful novelty with an enthusiasm I could never have imagined.

George was right, I rejoiced proudly, I am one hot bitch! And, damn, it was great to be alive. But, a little voice nagged, am I a slut? I suppose so, at least for George when the time is right, and I'm okay with that. Alright, more than just okay.

Snapping out of my reverie, I hung the towel on a bar beside the tub and, unabashedly naked, went to the bedroom and removed my toilet kit plus the salve from my purse. Although I didn't want to keep him waiting, I still wanted to present myself properly. I did my hair, brushed my teeth and applied the ointment to my pussy - another distraction - plus some makeup. One last check. Perfect.

I slipped on the robe, the silky fabric falling to mid thigh, lightly caressing my body. I wondered if he knew how this would affect me. Of coarse he did -- in some ways he knew me better than I did myself. But what's this? A defect? Hardly! Embroidered above my left breast in white cursive letters was "Naughty." How wickedly thoughtful.

I tied the sash and headed downstairs towards the kitchen, but as I approached, I heard music. Pausing to listen, I heard a beautiful voice, lamenting a lost love and it touched me deeply. "I'd rather go blind than to see you walk away from me."

Wow!

I entered the kitchen. George sat at the counter, a cup of coffee before him, wrapped in his white robe, and although he appeared to be reading his tablet, I could see he was softly singing along.

"Good morning!" I said, startling him.

Turning to me, he replied with a bright smile, "Good morning, I didn't hear you come down."

Standing and extending his arms, I approached him, welcoming his embrace as he kissed me deeply. This is how all mornings should start.

Releasing me, he asked, "Coffee?"

"Yes, please," I confirmed and, as he poured a mug, "She has a lovely voice, but it's a such beautifully sad song."

"Indeed it is. It's Etta James," he said, handing me the coffee

"I've heard her name before, but I must admit, I'm not familiar with her work. Oh, and thanks for the robe," I replied as I added sugar and took a couple sips. Damn, he makes good coffee.

"You like it?"

"Very much. It's so tastefully trashy, if there is such a thing."

"My specialty," he grinned. "It wasn't easy getting it on such short notice, but fortunately I remembered that Siu's cousin runs an embroidery shop. The robe itself was easy enough."

The song ended, followed by a familiar strain of violins. To my surprise, George took the coffee from my hand set it on the counter, and once again embraced me.

"Here's one of her songs everybody knows," he said as he swayed, encouraging me to follow, and she began to sing:

At last, my love has come along. My lonely days are over...

Neither of us spoke as we slowly undulated to the music, my head leaning against his shoulder. The poignant lyrics pulled at my heartstrings as a few tears of joy trickled down my cheeks and as the music ended, he tilted my head and I gazed into his contented expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern suddenly crossing his face.

"More than okay," I replied as I wiped my cheeks. "I'm just so happy and the song really touched me."

"That's a relief. I thought you might be upset. You know, rushing things between us."

"Not at all. I know it's all been very sudden, but everything feels so...right"

"Exactly. I didn't plan for At Last to play at that moment. It just did and I couldn't resist."

"It was lovely, and now maybe I'm rushing things, but it perfectly summarized my feelings."

"Well, now that it's out in the open, I couldn't agree more. Like I was said yesterday, when something this certain comes along, you've got to seize the opportunity. You might never get the chance again."

I didn't reply, but pulled myself against him and held him tightly as he followed suit. I don't recall how long we lingered in the moment, I just know I didn't want to let go. Ever.

Still holding me, he said, "Our coffee's getting cold."

Reluctantly, we parted, sat at the counter, drank our coffee and each others eyes.

Breaking the comfortable silence, he said, "I'm afraid I have some bad news. We'll have to postpone our sailing."

"Why is that?" I asked, disappointed.

"The forecast changed. Originally, some storms weren't due until this evening and now they're saying to expect them around two. It's not that we couldn't go, it just wouldn't be much fun. Not to worry, summer is just starting."

"Okay, but what will we ever do?" I replied, batting my eyes.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out," he replied, grinning. "But first, how about some breakfast? I brought prosecco along with some fruit and cheese for our outing. What would you say to a mimosa and we'll eat out in the gazebo? We might as well enjoy the weather for as long as it lasts."

"Sounds lovely. Anything I can do to help?"

"Definitely. Let me get it ready and you can lend a hand moving everything outside." George stood and, taking his coffee, sipping as he went, walked around the counter to the fridge, where he removed orange juice, the prosecco, several plastic containers and various cheeses. "I hope you don't mind being informal."

"Not at all," I replied, as I drank my coffee, totally content to watch him move about preparing our food and making mental notes on where he kept things. It was an efficient arrangement - I should have expected nothing else. The breakfast bar stepped down to a standard height where a black gas cook top was centered on the countertop running perpendicular to the bar, providing ample workspace on either side. Drawers and cabinets beneath stored pots, pans and cooking utensils. Opposite that and separated by about eight feet, a large, modern French door fridge and double wall oven, both black, flanked a large sink with a dishwasher mounted to one side below the counter. More cabinetry lined the far wall providing a tall pantry on the left with upper and lower cabinets on the right. All together plenty of room, but everything readily within reach. Somebody knew what he was doing!

In just a few minutes he'd put the fruit in a white porcelain bowl, loaded the cheese out on a platter along with some crackers and placed everything on a teak tray along with silverware and two plates.

"So this is informal?" I teased as I motioned towards the tray.

"Okay, maybe not, but don't we deserve it?"

"I can't argue with that, but you certainly are full of surprises!"

"Really? Most people find me rather predictable, but I hope you're not disappointed," he volleyed as he went about opening the champagne.

"I'm far from disappointed, but predicable? The question is whether it's because we just met or if they don't know you like I do."

"Hmm, good point," he replied as he wrapped a kitchen towel over the cork with one hand, and twisting to the bottle with the other, liberated it with a soft pop.

"So which is it?" I asked as he mixed the cocktails in a couple of large white wine glasses and handed one to me.

"Cheers!" he said as our glasses clinked and we both took a sip. Was he avoiding the question or just pondering his answer?

"You take the drinks," he continued as he handed me his glass. "I'll get the tray and we'll continue this discussion over breakfast."

We settled ourselves at the table in the gazebo, sitting next to each other in some comfortably cushioned wrought iron chairs. After unloading the tray's contents on the table, he handed me a plate, fork and napkin.

"Help yourself," he said.

As I spooned some from fruit on our plates and passing one to him, I couldn't help but ask, "So which is it?"

"Thank you. Well, I suppose it's more a case that I've let you see a side of me that very few know and those that have, generally didn't want to learn more. And at work, I'm pretty much all business, not that I don't kid around, but I want to get things done so that I can enjoy my time away from it."

I paused slightly, playing for time by getting some cheese while formulating my reply.

"It's certainly no surprise that your...what should I call it? Your non-work persona? Could be intimidating."

"Really? You don't seem intimidated," he replied.

"Trust me, I was, especially Friday night and yesterday morning."

"Then what made you overcome your fear?" he asked before munching on his breakfast, but getting straight to the heart of the matter.

Once again, I delayed my reply, as I knew it was time to reveal my secrets. At least some of them.

"Fear might be a bit strong. Reluctance would be more appropriate, but that plays into it as well."

"Really? Now it's getting interesting!" he exclaimed. "Do tell!"

"I will, but it's not easy and something I've never told anyone. Ever."

"We're not going anywhere. Take your time and enjoy your breakfast," he said "But hold that thought while I make another round."

I was grateful for the momentary pause. Was he conveniently refilling our glasses to let me think? It wouldn't surprise me if he had. He returned shortly, handed me my glass and I took healthy swallow, hoping to free my tongue.

"Thanks," I replied, and between sips and bites I slowly let it out.

"Well to start with, none of this would have happened if I didn't feel an attraction to you to start with, but when you sent me to the ladies room Friday, I faced a reality that I'm not sure how to describe."

"How so?" he asked.

"It's like I'd been anticipating something for a long time. Not to give offense, but not necessarily with you. Nonetheless, it was present, although the details were always incomplete. I had an itch that I didn't know how to scratch...but you certainly did!"

"Interesting. So where did this fantasy come from?"

"Well aren't you the curious one!"

"I suppose I am, but, like you said on Friday, how else would I get to know you?"

"True," I replied, inwardly pleased that he remembered our conversation in such detail. "I suppose it's all the romance novels I've read."

"Really?" he said in surprise. " How's that?"

"Well, if you really must know.."

"I must!"

"The ones that got to me is where the heroine was coerced into submitting to her hidden passion, and then deeply embracing it."

"That certainly fits, but getting back to your original premise, perhaps it's not me who's full of surprises. Rather, you surprised yourself."

"I hadn't considered that and, damn it, you're at least partially correct."

"Like you didn't know how naughty you could be? A bit of an exhibitionist and getting off on role playing?"

"Indeed, I'd never actually contemplated those" I said, compelled to glance at the embroidery on my robe, "but I suppose it's nothing new for you."

"On the contrary, it's very new."

"Really?" It was my turn to be confounded.

"As you now know so well, I have my predilections.."

"To say the least!"

"However, I've never had much chance to act on them."

"Really?"

"Really, and not for lack of trying, but I did get pretty good at scaring them off."

"You did mention that, but, as you can tell, it didn't work on me."

"And I thank my lucky stars for that...and you for making it so easy."

"Easy? What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, not pleased with the moniker.

"Oh! No! I wasn't referring to you, but our interactions. You know, the positive feedback between us. Like each of us knew exactly what to do or say, without any contrivance. Almost magical, and yet simultaneously totally natural. If that makes any sense."

"Thanks for clearing that up!" I replied, soothed with his explanation. I should have known better! "I know exactly what you mean. Magical indeed...a supernatural confluence."

"My, aren't we grandiose!" he teased.

"I do read a lot, you know, but the reality is vastly superior to fiction."

"So you want to continue your exploration of the...supernatural?"

"Well..." I teased, "Of course I do. What do you have in mind?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I have some ideas," he replied with a conspiratorial grin. "Besides, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. In the mean time, lets put the food away. We still have a couple of hours before the storms come, so we could relax on the chaise lounges and watch the world go by for a while."

"It's a beautiful right now and that sounds lovely," I agreed, and, yet, I had a suspicion that his synopsis was intentionally vague. Anticipation delightfully gnawed at my being.

We gathered up the remains of breakfast, and it was quickly restored to the refrigerator. However, George then opened a cabinet beneath the cooktop and withdrew rectangular white box - looking as if it might contain a shirt, tied with red ribbon - and handed it to me.

"What is it?" I asked, as I placed it on the counter, certain it played into whatever plan he'd concocted.

"Open it and find out, but you should have an inkling. It was for our sail today, but it would be a shame to keep it locked up."

I thought for a moment and then remembered he insisted that I have a bikini. I opened the box and my suspicions were confirmed. Holding it up, I could tell there wasn't much to it, but its deep purple, highly elastic fabric was pretty and at least he did listen that it not be a thong. However, there was no lining and it looked a bit small. Although the top was akin to a bra, the straps and back were narrow. And the cups, if you could call them that, were just triangles. The bottom had some fabric in the back, but at least half of my ass would be exposed. The wasn't much to the front either.

"Oh my god!" I said. "Are you sure it will fit?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Remember, I still have your underwear from Friday."

"That you do, but it won't leave much to the imagination!"

"I know," he replied casually. "Right in your wheelhouse."

"Touché," I remarked as I grinned and blushed. You'd think I'd be past that by now, after all, this was only for George, but naughty still mocked by sensibilities at the oddest moments.

"Why don't you go upstairs and put it on while I get the cushions and move the lounges into the sun?"

"Sure," I said, and after giving him a peck on the cheek, bounded up the stairs, bikini in hand, tossing it on the bed upon arrival, and slipping off the robe, fluttering to the floor. I pulled on the bottom, the fabric tightly embracing my ass and pussy as I smoothed out the edges. The top was a bit of a struggle. Although it snuggly fit around me, no matter how I tried, my boobs didn't fit completely. Either I spilled out the sides or they were squeezed together, highly emphasizing my cleavage. Cleavage won out.

Now, how do I look? I pranced into the bathroom. Wow! Is that really me? The fabric straining over my breasts gave the illusion of gaining a cup size while my nipples were highly evident, stiffening as I eyed my reflection. And holy smokes, although the bottom covered my pussy, it dramatically emphasized the outline of my smooth lips. Turning around, it was a I expected. More of my ass was exposed than covered. Assuredly, I would never have chosen a suit like this, but, damn, it made me feel sexy. Even a bit trampy. Wheelhouse indeed.

Returning to the bedroom, I slipped the robe back on, as I wanted to reveal myself to George slowly. Teasingly. Although that would be as much for my benefit as his. As I left the bath and prepared for my grand entrance, I spied my purse, snatched it up, figuring I'd want my sunglasses. And my phone. Two messages. One from Judy and one from my mom.

Oh shit! I normally call home on Sunday mornings, just to catch up with my mom. I'd better call before I totally forget and she gets agitated. But this will be awkward. At least she doesn't expect a video chat! I must have sounded nervous to her because she asked if I was feeling okay. I assured her I was fine, and to allay her fears, told I'd met a terrific man who'd taken me on a date to the ball game. Yes, I had a wonderful time. And yes, I was seeing him again today, so I've got to get going. Sure, if things work out, I'll introduce him to you and dad.

That was easier than I'd dreaded. I didn't lie to her, I just left out a few details. Okay, more than a few.

Now for Judy. Might as well get this over with too. Despite her efforts to pry all the details from me, I kept our conversation brief, but didn't want to be rude, so I did tell her about the bikini and she insisted that I send her a picture. I resisted, but she wore me down.. I used the mirror in the bath. Her response was a mix of praise, disbelief and light hearted condescension that made me smile. I accused of being jealous. She didn't deny it.

I'd kept George waiting long enough. I put on the robe and slipped on my sunglasses. I found him reclined on one of the chaise lounges on the patio, which he had covered with beach towels and raised the backs so we'd face each other. To my delight, he sported some tight swimming trunks that were black and a fabric very similar to my suit's, his robe tossed next to him on the patio.

"What's with the robe? Were you afraid to come outside?" he asked from behind his sunglasses.

Damn, Judy was right, he's gorgeous - his lightly tanned, well defined body, bathed in the warm sunshine, with Ray-Bans providing a movie star aura, at least in my book. And speaking of definition, those trunks did nothing but emphasize his magnificent cock.

"Hardly. I love the bikini, but didn't want to give you a heart attack!" I chided. "Actually, when I was upstairs, I remembered that I always call my mom on Sundays and decided it best to call her before I got...distracted," I continued as I looked directly at his groin.