The French Exit

Chapter One

'Where were you?'

She ran towards him as soon as she saw him. He didn't know how she knew he was there; he guessed the front desk must have informed her when the taxi dropped him off. Quite quickly, because she came down to Reception whilst the Duty Manager was trying to take him to task.

He ignored the Manager and turned to his wife with a tight smile on his face.

'Hi Sweetie, I'm home. Did ya miss me?'

She stood in front of him, slightly out of breath. Her blonde hair was up in a ponytail, but a few errant wisps has escaped and framed her face beautifully. Her face was tinged red with the exertion of walking down.

'That's not funny, Sal. I was worried.'

He shrugged as he began to walk around her, heading towards their room.

'I don't know why.'

She paused for a moment, but then seeing he wasn't waiting for her she started after him. The Duty Manager was still walking, he had got between the two of them.

'Mr Calzone, you must attend the excursions if you're signed up for them. It's a resort rule.'

'I didn't sign up for them.'

'Your wife signed you up. If she signs you up then you're obliged to attend.'

Sal stopped abruptly and turned to face him.

'I don't think you get it. I'm not going on your excursion. I don't want to go. I was clear with my wife when she told me what she'd signed me up for. I told her then I wouldn't go and guess what? I didn't go.'

'Tomorrow, you're...'

Sal cut abruptly across him.

'I'm what? What do you think I'm going to do?'

'Your wife has put your name down for an excursion out on a sailing ship to go down the coast.'

He turned to his wife.

'Are you going on that outing, Alice?'

She shook her head. 'I've got a session booked in with Sarah at the spa. Rueben will be going with you.'

He gave a humourless little laugh.

'She's not going, neither am I.'

He started to walk again. He felt the camera bag banging against his hip as he walked quickly away.

'Mr Calzone?' He heard his name being called, he ignored it and walked on. He fished the large black access ring out of his pocket and pressed it against the door lock. The door didn't open.

He tried again. He was aware that the pair had caught up with him.

'My ring isn't working.' He kept his voice steady. He knew from years of experience that every situation was handled better by remaining calm. He'd had a lot of practice at handling challenging situations and staying in control was something he could do.

'Here, I'll let you in.' His wife said, moving forward.

'No, hang on. Why doesn't my ring open the door?'

The Duty Manager answered. 'We disabled your access to the site when you went missing.'

'My stuff is in that suite. If this ring doesn't open the door in five minutes, I will smash the door open and retrieve my belongings.'

Sal pointedly looked at his watch and sat down on the little stone wall near his door.

'Mr Calzone.'

'Four minutes and fifty seconds.'

'Sal, I'll let you into the room.' His wife stepped forward and opened the door. Sal moved her out of the way gently and closed the door again. He pushed his ring against the lock and nothing happened.

'That didn't fix it.' He looked at his watch 'Four minutes thirty seconds.'

The Duty Manager looked at the couple, his gaze flitting between the two of them.

'OK, I'll go and get your access reinstated.'

Sal looked at his watch. 'I'd be fast, you've got four minutes then you'll need to bring a repair man back with you.'

The man walked briskly away, leaving the husband and wife together.

'Sal, what's going on? Why didn't you go on that trip? Reuben had to go by himself. He was quite upset.'

Sal shrugged. 'I've told you. This is a shit holiday. I've been on one crappy excursion after another. This is supposed to be our holiday, something for both of us. You were the one who wanted this holiday and told me it was so we could spend time together. You've spent all your time with your sister and no time with me. I didn't come on holiday to spend time with Reuben. I think he's a dick, you know that. I came on holiday to spend time with you.'

'And we will spend time together. If you'd been around this evening, we could've been together.'

'Bullshit Alice. I'm only a little bit later than the excursion. My taxi followed the minibus back in. What part of the evening would we've spent together?'

'Tomorrow evening we can be together. You go on that trip; I signed you up because it sounded like something you would like. When you come back, we can eat together. We'll escape from Reuben and Sarah and have a meal, the two of us together.'

Sal shook his head.

'Nope. It's like you're deaf, Alice. I told you this morning and I thought you'd heard me. Don't sign me up for any more trips. I won't go unless you're there with me. If you're not there, then I don't go either.'

'I don't get what you're getting het up about. Most men would be glad that their wives are organising fun stuff for them.'

'No, most men going on holiday with their wives would expect to spend time with their wives, not their idiot brother-in-law.'

He looked at his watch and counted down the last twenty seconds. He turned to the door and pressed his ring against the lock.

'Sal?' he heard his wife. 'Don't kick....'

The door clicked open and he walked into the air-conditioned chill of their suite. He placed his camera bag onto the table and walked over to the fridge to get a beer. He enjoyed the quiet hiss as the cap was knocked off. He lifted it up to his mouth, tipping his head back to draw from it. The cold beer felt good going down his throat.

He walked back over to the table and took his camera out of its bag. He flicked the release on it and a memory card popped out. He took the card and walked over to his laptop. He put the card into the reader and switched the laptop on.

'What're you doing?' He could hear the impatient tone in her voice.

'I've got some pictures I want to process. I've had something to eat before I came back. It's not like I can do anything with you is it? You kind of fucked that up with your silly little games.'

'We can do stuff together. Fun stuff.'

'Nope. We can't. I'm locked up remember?'

She put her arms around his neck, draping herself across him from behind.

'You can do stuff for me.'

'Sorry Alice, I don't exactly feel in the mood. You killed that.'

He shrugged her off.

There was a knock at the door, Alice went to open it. Sal continued to work on his laptop. He signed in and began to call up the photographs he had taken that day. He flicked his gaze up to see the Duty Manager back. He continued what he was doing. After a short pause, he heard the man clear his throat.

'You shouldn't have a laptop here.'

'I use this for work. I'm not going to surrender it.'

He looked up and made eye contact. He'd given them his phone when they checked in, but this was way too important to lose control of.'

'Mr Calzone, for your behaviour today, the resort is giving you a warning. If there's another repeat of that behaviour, you'll be asked to leave.'

Sal looked up from what he was doing.

'Good. Tomorrow I'm not going to be going on the trip my wife has signed me up for. Nor will I go on any trip where she isn't with me. Kick me out if you like, I couldn't give a fuck. This resort has been a colossal disappointment. I've got a shitty ring that doesn't give me access anywhere. Your waiting staff are ignorant and despite a big bill for this place my food is crap. I feel like an inconvenience, not a valued guest.'

He held up a hand to make it clear to the Manager he was still talking.

'Tomorrow, I've got plans and I will have each day that my wife is indisposed. Now, I'm busy, so if that's all you have to say, fuck off.'

He could see that the Manager wasn't happy but his wife took the Manager by the arm and the two left the room. He heard the door close. Frankly he couldn't care if he was kicked out. There were other hotels on the island and this resort wasn't exactly his favourite place to be.

He took another long draw from his beer and turned his attention back to the screen. He'd taken over a thousand photographs, mostly of the wedding. He began to sort through them. Years of practice meant he could quickly remove those that were blurred, out of focus or where the subject had moved out of shot.

As he went through, he set up folders in the program and began moving the good photographs to the correct topic folders. That morning he escaped from the resort and gone downtown with his camera gear. The town or city wasn't recommended for tourists, the resort had warned. But he hadn't seen anything that worried him. He was used to prowling around taking photographs. It was his job, his passion in life.

He'd started taking shots of the different buildings, capturing not just the important buildings, but the shacks and shanties where people eked out their lives. Looking for authentic, local areas where he could see life as it was lived by real people away from the tourists.

The door snicked open and she walked back into the room.

'Sal, I'm sorry. I've been inconsiderate and I'm sorry.'

She walked over to him and kissed his forehead.

'I realise this hasn't been much of a holiday for you. I've had a brilliant time, but I guess it's not been as good for you. Tomorrow I've put my name down for the trip. That's if you're still happy to go with me.'

He looked up at her and grinned. 'Cool, glad to have my wife back. I'll enjoy going with you.'

'Are you OK if I go off and let Sarah know?'

He nodded, 'Yeah, I'm going...'

'To be kind of busy. Yeah, I know.' She finished off for him.

She knew, they both knew what he was like when he was working. He was focussed and with a day shooting behind him, he'd be a few hours working through the pictures.

She left the room. Sal looked up hearing the door snick closed and took another drink. Seeing the bottle nearly empty he walked over to the fridge and got another one out, ready for when the first one would be spent. He sat back down and continued his review. There were some good pictures in the earlier shots of the day. However, it was the wedding he'd wanted to look at.

He was somewhat off the beaten track when he saw a small church. The denomination wasn't entirely clear, Catholic he'd guess if anyone pushed him. He'd got a snap of the church name in case he needed it later. He'd realised there was a wedding happening and curious, he'd gone closer.

When he was younger, he'd supplemented his income working as a wedding photographer in New York. He was good at it. Hell, it was even how he'd met Alice. It wasn't his favourite type of photography. It wasn't what he'd wanted to do, but he had a good reputation and he'd made good money from doing it.

He still did the odd wedding now and then, more to keep his hand in than anything else. But when he saw there was a wedding, he'd jumped at the opportunity to see how it was celebrated down here. He'd checked out to make sure that he wasn't stepping on anyone's toes. Then he'd walked in and began taking pictures.

He was sensitive to cultural nuances and had checked with people that they were happy with him taking their pictures. An older man, the father of the bride as it turned out, had spoken with him. Sal introduced himself, shown his press credentials and offered to photograph the wedding. The man once satisfied there was no cost and no obvious con, gave his consent and Sal worked through the standard photographs at the church.

He'd been invited to the reception, really an informal party, and had gladly walked to the party with the group, chatting and answering their questions as he went. Sal had worked a long time as a photographer. It was what he wanted to be from a young age. He realised quite quickly that working people, making them comfortable, was the key to getting good pictures. He chatted, made friends, showed an interest, and gradually faded into the background where he could walk around and take the pictures that he saw.

He was fascinated by the colourful, celebration clothing that the group wore, especially the older men. As the day passed into afternoon and the eating was finished, the music began to get louder and people began to let their hair down and relax. Sal found it satisfying that despite the difference in appearance, the behaviours seemed so similar to his normal weddings.

What he was surprised by was the colourfully dressed older men dominating the dancefloor. There were ten or fifteen of them, they appeared to be relatives or friends of the bride's father and they could dance, like really could dance. They moved onto the dancefloor quite early on and quickly were a flash of moving colour and smiles. Sal found the dancing, with the shots of the bridal party in the background to be compelling and he moved around, taking pictures. This wasn't Pulitzer Prize winning stuff, but this was the kind of feature that he could write up and would run in a magazine. Nice lucrative bit of work. Maybe some of the pictures would be of the kind of standard he could enter in a competition.

He'd eaten there and spent the time he wanted getting the pictures. He got the contact details of the older man and promised he'd be in touch in a few days to share with him the pictures that he taken. He wasn't sure whether he'd do it as an album, printing out the pictures for them or just email them across. Either way, he'd give them a lasting memento of their wedding day.

Leaving the wedding and going back to the resort had been difficult. He wasn't sure what kind of reception he was going to get. But he was sure there was going to be some push back. He'd stayed calm in the taxi, making sure that he over tipped the driver. Ensuring that when he next called him, he'd get picked up. There weren't any taxis at the hotel, he hadn't seen any at all when he'd gone looking for them.

He began to work through the wedding photographs, selecting the traditional shots, the groupings, the family members and friends posing with the happy couple. The church, the party leaving the church, sitting for dinner. He put those across into a folder, that'd form the bulk of what he'd give to the couple. Then he went through the other photographs, the ones from the reception and picked out the ones he wanted to work with.

He was shocked by how many good photographs he had. The people, even the older men in their late fifties and sixties had been not just colourful, but happy and they looked good. There was a real sense of movement in the pictures. A happiness in movement, of expressing joy through colour and dancing. Of different ages coming together for a good time.

He heard Alice come back and looked up at the time. He was shocked at how late it was.

'Wow, you've been gone a while.'

She walked over to him, slightly unsteadily on her feet.

'I was with Sarah and Reuben. I knew you'd be doing this and leaving you to it would return you to a good mood the quickest. So, I had some fun with them instead.'

He grinned at her unsteadiness and saving his work, shut down the computer. He quickly brushed his teeth and climbed into bed. Alice joined him, wriggling over to him. She was in a pair of panties and he felt the usual discomfort as his trapped penis tried to harden. She rolled over to face him and grinned at him.

'Uncomfortable, are we?'

'Stupid idea, I can't believe I went along with it.' He murmured.

She took his hand and started to put it onto her body. 'Come on, let's play. We haven't done anything at all since we've been here.'

He took his hand back.

'I told you when you put it on. If I'm not getting any, you ain't either. I don't see why I should get you off, if you're going to leave me hanging.'

She giggled at his words.

'It'll be worth it when we get home, you know that. It's not a lot of fun, when you're doing it. But when it comes off, the orgasms are the best.'

'Then we'll experience them best orgasms together. If that's so damn important to you, then you can have those great orgasms as well as me. And you can damn well wait.'

He rolled over; he knew the game she was playing. She's introduced a cock cage, a chastity device about six months ago. A bit of fun to spice things up. He'd not been a fan, she had to make some outlandish promises to get him to wear it and surrender the key to it to her. He'd got to try anal sex, something she'd always resisted. But she'd felt that getting him into chastity play was worth giving up her anal cherry for.

She claimed it was about denial, teasing, edging, and making the orgasm more powerful and in fairness, the orgasms were powerful. But there was something about surrendering that control, the submissiveness of it, that didn't sit well with Sal. Why was he wearing the cock cage? Why didn't she do the same? But he'd stopped moaning, the sex had made it worthwhile. After being married ten years, sometimes something new had to be tried to keep things fresh and exciting.

That was until this holiday. She'd given him great sex the night before they were due to go away. Nothing had been said about the cock cage. When she went to put it back on him, he asked what was going on.

'It's for the holiday.' She'd told him. 'You've gotten your itch scratched, now you can wait until we get back. Then I'll make your dreams come true.'

An hour of arguing had followed before he'd finally let her put him back in it. It wasn't until he was at the airport that he had realised that she left the key at home and he was trapped for the two weeks they were away. At that point, he'd told her in no uncertain terms that if he couldn't have any release, then neither was she going to get any either. He wasn't going to be doing this alone.

He was angry at himself getting caught in this situation. He made it very clear to her that this holiday would be the end of him wearing chastity for her. As far as he was concerned by leaving the key at home and not telling him, she'd broken his trust. It was the first row of the holiday.

So, he ignored the groans from his wife, she could bring herself off if she wanted. He didn't care. He wasn't going to get her revved up or bring her off either with his fingers or his tongue despite how much he enjoyed it. He fell asleep quite quickly, for the first time since arriving it felt like he'd had a good day and that tomorrow was going to be better.

Chapter Two.

He hadn't wanted to come back. Not at all, not after that conversation. He'd wanted to think, he still did. He wanted to stop the world for a few damn minutes and get himself caught up. He could feel a strong reaction, or reactions. He knew that his thinking was messed up because of those emotional reactions. He knew that he needed clarity and calm to be able to function properly, but he needed time to get that clarity. He didn't have time.

Too quickly he was dropped off. The usual spot, a couple of hundred meters away from the resort. He could walk back and have no-one any the wiser to his absence. He'd arranged tomorrow's pick up with the driver before he left. He knew that tomorrow was going to be a busy day, he just wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to be busy doing.

He walked slowly down to the resort. As he was walking the last hundred meters a small minibus pulled up and the excursion party stepped wearily down from it. That was where he was supposed to be. Despite all the conversations, despite all the instructions, Alice had signed him up again for a trip out with Reuben. He'd told her that he wasn't going to go. They'd argued about it, the happiness of the previous day seemingly all forgotten.

She'd walked him to the minibus and watched him get on it. Her anger at him was surprising from her behaviour of the previous day. Her determination that he go, quite shocking. He didn't want a row in public, that wasn't who he was. So, he'd sat on the minibus for five minutes then he'd gone to the front of the bus and harassed the driver until he was let off. He told the furious tour guide that he'd forgotten something in his room. A clearly transparent lie and he walked away deaf to the man's shouting.