What If

WHAT IF, the One You Love Isn't the One for You?

My wife and I married young, by today's standards. Her first job had been teaching 8th graders, and she hated it almost from the start, but tried to keep a good face on it. Maybe it would get better. By year three, she disliked the school, the kids and the administration, and the dislike was reciprocated. We spent endless nights talking until she accepted that teaching wasn't for her. For her, there was no competition, no excitement, and doing a good job brought no accolades, other than the satisfaction of a job well done.

The older teachers said it was impossible to replace their salary anywhere else, but they had worthless (to the rest of the world) Masters plus 30 credits towards a PHD in teaching, so they were trapped. Beginning teachers don't make all that much money, so it was relatively easy for her to find a comparable paying job. She ended up as a claims adjuster for a big insurance company. She understood this was a job where results mattered, and success was public and praised, and failure got you booted out the door. They trained her in the basics, but she went way beyond that, studied like hell everything else she could find, as she was serious about her career. She worked in the regional office of a big insurance company; you've seen their TV commercials, with about fifty people in her office.

In a small office like that, it's very clubby, and since they tended to hire young, bright people, she had lots of colleagues much like herself, which she liked. When she was a teacher, nearly all the adults were twenty or more years older than her; here she's one of the group. They did a lot of team building, going out to lunch as a group about every other week, Occasionally a few drinks at a bar on the way home, and one rah, rah overnight sales meeting (with spouses) once a year. I go to most of the social event, the Christmas party, summer picnic, and occasional house parties and I've noticed a fair turnover. If you managed to hang in for 6-9 months, you would probably be there for 5 years or more, but very few were ten year veterans.

The work was evaluating and paying off claims, about 95% were small claims, and 5% large ones. Most of the business involved giving overly generous payouts on small claims, it was pretty simple work and this area didn't pay well. However, once you learned the business and if you had the talent, you could move up and make big money on the large claims. The company fought hard to avoid these payouts, if you denied the claim entirely, or offered only partial reimbursement, and the company didn't get sued, you got a bonus.

The principle was, lots of people submit small claims, but the cost to pay the small clams was modest. By somewhat over paying and not quibbling it built the perception that the company was easy to deal with, good about paying claims and all. Of course it didn't hit the bottom line too hard because something like 95% of all claims only amounted to 10-15% of the total payout.

Obviously 5% of the claims were 85% of the payout. On the bigger clams, the big boss, Ivar Lund scanned the contracts and came up with a worst case payout, which was their potential liability. Big claims were stuff like your house burning down, or somebody was maimed in an accident. On these claims they worked hard to pay as little as they could as opposed to what they contractually owed. The agents were paid a bonus based on how little they could settle the claim for, with a claw back if the policy holder sued them.

It was a tribute to Karen's mastery of the business that after six months on the job, Karen was given her first "Big Claim" and got a $3,000 bonus. She didn't get a lot of them, maybe one every month or two, but soon she was rolling in cash because of her track record, they were giving her some of the really big claims. It was like snorting Cocaine for Karen. She loved her job, she had the lowest pay out rate in the office as well as the lowest incidence of pre lawsuit letters from lawyers in her office, and second lowest in the Eastern United States. Apparently she had a knack for screwing people out of what was due them, and having them thank her for it. A dirty business, to my way of thinking, but she argued that like everything else in life, you get what you can negotiate.

Still, she liked her coworkers, and her job, liked traveling to the yearly sales meetings in nice hotels; and...for my part, living with a happy woman is better than sharing life with a miserable one, I know, I've done both. While we wanted children in a few years, we were in candy land, money, youth, no house, no kids, and interesting things to do.

With money to go on vacation! We had options besides seeing the folks back home, or going camping. The two of us were looking at the Caribbean islands, what you think of this one, that one. Karen mentioned Martinique, in the French West Indies. It sounded good to me, the French part should insure that the food would be good, and beach, sun, and sand are the same everywhere.

Karen was excited,

"On a lot of their beaches, you can wear as much or as little as you please. I think it would be neat to run around topless, or even naked. I mean skinny dipping feels really great doesn't it? That wouldn't bother you, would it?"

"Well, no...I mean after I got use to it, I suppose I could look at naked women and not get a hard on. I imagine it's like seeing people anywhere, only without clothes."

"Duh! I bet you this, Chris; I'll bet you there will be a lot of people that we'd wish had kept their clothes on!" we both laughed at that one,

"One of the women and her husband, at work, they go to swinger parties, and was saying that open ones, you know, the public ones attract some really awful looking people. She says the ones they go to, the people invited are pre-selected."

"That's wife swapping and group sex, isn't it?" she shrugged

"Well, I certainly use to spend a hell of a lot of time pre-selecting who I would try to fuck, so I don't think I would farm out the job to somebody else. How the hell do they determine who's invited and who isn't?"

"You have to be personally recommended by both a husband and a wife, and submit a picture. Also no singles or dates, everybody has to attend with their spouse."

"Group sex?"

"I gather you're not good with that, but I think you do whatever you want. Certainly you can say no to anyone, or they to you. I mean it's not like I've ever been to one."

"So it's a beauty contest. Do they have to submit a doctor's report that they have no STD's? Even with condoms, especially in group sex, I imagine you could pick up any number of diseases. Sounds like a recipe for a disease epidemic."

"I agree, it sounds risky. That's why I told her we weren't interested right now."

Gosh, what women got to talking about!

"Jeez, Karen, she was recruiting us?"

Karen laughed,

"Oh look at you! Well she never met you, so I suppose she assumed if you were good enough for me, you would be good enough for them. Sure, how else to you suppose they find new members?"

We ended up going to Martinique, and it was even better than I imagined. On day one, Karen was turned on by going topless while sunning herself and then embarrassed as she skittered with tits jiggling to the water, where she mostly stayed with her tits underwater. We managed to avoid sunburn, and had great sex during our lunch time break from the sunshine. That night we had a grand supper in a small restaurant, neither of us wearing any underwear. Followed by more sex. We both bought wraparound sun glasses so we could look without being obvious, plus the sun was really bright.

On day two, being an old hand showing her tits to the world, she got up the courage to walk topless with me along the waters edge for a mile or more another big turn on, and she saw the very wide range of body types on display, she realized that for all the 'imperfections' she fretted about on her own body, she was surly in the top 10% of females, and thereafter was completely relaxed, not even wearing clothes in our room. By then seeing people as god made them (and occasionally with help from cosmetic surgeons) became quite ordinary, and I too enjoyed the freedom of it. It's nice to fee the ocean breeze on you balls!

At supper we were chatting, Karen said with a bit of a blush,

"Isn't odd how quickly going naked became ordinary. Now I don't give a second thought to going without a bra in a nice restaurant."

I smiled, pointedly looking at her chest,

"Well I certainly notice and appreciate the nipple pokes and the swaying. You're confusing naked with nude, though."

She looked puzzled, "Aren't they much the same?"

"Malachi McCourt gave a definition once. He stepped into a bar for a quick shot, and the bartender said "You have to hang up your coat to be served."

"I'm just here for a quick drink. I'll be gone in one minute."

"No exceptions mister. Hang up the coat."

"Malachy was pissed and left without another word, went home, cut the legs off of an old pair of trousers, took his pants and underpants off, and tied the trouser legs above the calf. Coat on, back to the bar. The bartender eyed him warily, and silently pointed to the coat rack across the room.

"I'll hang my coat up as you require, but before I do, are there any other rules I have to comply with before I can get a drink?"

"Just hang the coat up."

He did and to his surprise the bartender kept a neutral face as Malachy strolled across the room to the bar, but just as he reached it the barman vaulted over the bar, put him in a hammer lock and gave him the bums rush onto the street. Malachy observed that in the bar, he was nude, but in the street he was naked."

"Oh that's funny, he's right though, there is a difference! Do you think it really happened?"

"Who knows? For a story to be interesting, it usually needs to be embellished. Truth isn't so entertaining."

"Well I like being nude in public."

"You liked being naked too, didn't you. That first day, you were excited as hell."

She got a guilty smile,

"I was, but I was relaxed today. Maybe the naughtiness is gone. Do you think less of me?"

"Why would I think less of you? Seems normal to me, after all, clothing is really fashion. When it gets sexual, like if you were naked serving a bunch of guys in a bar, or at a bachelor party, maybe I'd have a problem with it. But certainly not here.

"Chris, it's not normal to walk around in public with no clothing on."

I shrugged,

"Well, it's normal here, and I myself have no problem being without clothes. Never have, so I guess I assumed you'd feel the same, which it seems to me you do."

"So we saw what, two couples fucking? As we were walking around the beach. Would you be reluctant to do that? I mean putting aside that it's in poor taste even here."

I had to think a moment.

"Hmmm. Would I do that in front of an audience, or the risk of an audience? That's what you're asking? I guess it would be OK as long as I was sure the watchers would not try to join in. How about you?"

"God no, Chris! I don't want pictures of me to show up on the internet like that, and in public, I'd be afraid a couple of guys would be walking by, and join in. Maybe in a safe environment, but sure in hell not here! It does stir my libido, though. We can do it on the balcony tonight! Sometime would you like to share a room with another couple?"

"Well, maybe for a short while. What if they were weird, or going at it like kabuki actors and we're dying trying to hold back laughter. How do we get out of there graciously?"

"Well, suppose it was casual, and you felt comfortable with them?"

"Hmmh! I suppose, as long as they don't join us...I'd want, you know, this is our bed, that's your bed kind of thing. Or I'd be irritated they distracted us, like we're still going at it, and they start arguing about politics or watching a game show on the TV."

She seemed a bit guarded when she asked,

"Well, would you like to screw another woman, would it bother you to see another guy with me?"

"That's something else all together, isn't it, and I think you know the answer before you ask the question. Well, of course there are inherent risks in opening up our marriage. From the sex standpoint, the sex would either be poor, about the same as we enjoy, or better than we have. If it was lousy sex, then I would regret doing it, and likewise, if it was the same as in our bed, I'd be disappointed, 'cause we took a bunch of risks for our marriage for nothing.

"Worse yet if it were better, we would be disappointed with our love life, and perhaps prefer sex with somebody else to sex with each other, and you know, maybe nobody can compete with the excitement of sex with a new person? Another thing, if you enjoyed sex a lot more with others than with me, every time we made love, I'd wonder if you were wishing it was someone else, and what they did, that I didn't do. And if you can screw some guy once with my blessing, it becomes easier to screw him other times and not tell me. Frankly I don't see a good outcome to swinging, do you?"

"Well, you put it in such stark, negative, black and white terms. Suppose it was nice, but different. I mean, are pork chops better than chicken? We enjoy some variety at the table, why not the bedroom? I don't see the problem, You love me, I love you..."

"And fucking another we will never rue!"

I got an annoyed glance.

"Don't be silly, Chris, you swing with strangers. You rarely see them and then only at these parties they go to, if indeed they subsequently attend when we do. Plus you're not allowed to see them outside of these parties, so you can't fall in love."

"It sounds like hard drugs. The upside is euphoria, the down side is ruin."

"I gather that as negative as you are, you're not interested."

"I'm not. We took a vow to forsake all others, and if we don't want to keep it, let's legally split up and go back to non exclusive dating."

She shuddered,

"Calm down, love, this is just talk. I have no intention of replacing you, we're just talking, bullshitting you and I."

I must say it was the most erotic vacation I have ever had. To be sure, relatively few other tourists spoke English, or maybe they didn't want to speak English, so we were somewhat hard up for company. We did meet another couple from Quebec, went clubbing with them, had a good time. Gaston and Beatrice (pronounced B'trēce). We danced with them as a couple, and with them as individuals. Breasts were quivering in blouses, nipples and yes, cocks hard and poking. Hands began wandering.

The four of us were outside having a rest and a beer. Gaston asked me,

"So is it fun to tease a little bit, touch the women here and there?"

"It is, sort of like playing with fire though. Dancing at this club, reminds me of the story of Pat O'Neil at confession."

"What would that be? This is a joke?" I nodded,

"Patrick was in confession:

"Well Father, nothing to tell you about this week, Oh! That bit with me and Mary O Riley, but she'll have told you about it already, and nothing happened, anyway."

"Pat, I'm not here to discuss what Mary O Riley said, what did you do?"

"Well Bridget and I were down to the pub with the O Riley's the other night, and Mary and I're smokers and had to go outside, like you do these days. Before we knew it, we was kissing one another, hands roamin' all over, but thanks be to god, we come to our senses, it was a dumb thing to do and we're agreed we're not going to do it again."

"Pat, did your hands touch the nasty bits, even for a moment?"

"I did say all over, now didn't I Father, but nothin' went inside, if you get my meaning. So nothin' happened!"

"Adultery's what happened that night, Pat!"

"Nay, Father, you miss took my meaning, not being familiar with these things, what I'm saying is the hands were on top of the clothing!"

"'Tis adultery you'll do pertinence for!"

A month later, leaving church, Bridget gave Pat some coins to put in the poor box, and Pat palmed the coins. The priest spotted it and wagged his finger as he said:

"I saw what ye did Patrick, and what's worse for your immortal sole, so did the Lord and he is not pleased!"

"But father, Don't I have it from your very own lips, that to the Lord, putting your hand on something is the self same thing as putting something inside of it"

Gaston and Beatrice had a good laugh, of course Karen hear it all before, so was not particularly amused.

"So Gaston, I'm like Pat, I'm OK with hands on top of the clothing and only when we're all in the group."

Karen and Gaston had license now. He had his hands on the cheeks of her ass, as they ground their crotches on each other's leg. When the dance was over, I realized he had been spreading those cheeks, because Karen's dress was now nipped in the crack of her ass. Beatrice and I were a little more reserved, but I must admit not stone cold. For the next dance, the D.J announced it was a flash dance, where the women would flash their tits, and guys their chests.

Karen and I were dancing in a group at that point, four women opposite their men. All four hiked their tops, so we were treated to the sight of one bra, and three sets of tits jiggling before us. A lot of blouses were mostly unbuttoned for the rest of that dance, and in Karen's conspicuous case, not rebuttoned at all. Gaston whipped his shirt off, and circled Karen, and wrapped it around her head. Karen was breathing hard through the shirt, smelling Gaston, and waving her tits to one and all, then rubbing them against his chest.

Over top of the introduction to the next song, the DJ called out, "Now Gentlemen, show the ladies your buns!" That divided the men into three groups, those who ignored the DJ, those who showed mostly just their ass and perhaps their balls (such as me), and those who dropped trousers, and showed everything (like Gaston). Karen's cheeks were red. I didn't need to look at her hard nipples on full display, to see that she was excited as hell. Gaston hiked his pants up, but didn't zip his fly leaving his cock sticking out.

A slow dance began, and I was about to nudge Gaston aside to dance with Karen to the song by Lou Rawls, Lay Lady Lay, when the DJ called out,

"Gentlemen, close your eyes, its ladies choice, and gentlemen, keep your eyes shut!" Karen glared at me when I ignored the DJ, and headed over to her, she gestured for me to go with Beatrice but I ignored her, nudging Gaston aside and pulled her to me. I pushed my boner against her thigh,

"You've got me hot as hot can be, and I can't take much more of this. Let's go to the room and get some relief."

"I was going to dance this dance with Gaston, until you barged in. What were you thinking of? Why can't you relax and have some fun."

"Karen, this is heading towards you in bed with Gaston, isn't it."

"Well...you would be in bed with Beatrice! What's wrong with that? I mean, it's not as if we'll see them again, is it. All I want to do is have some fun, and you're cramping my style." Gaston tapped me on the shoulder to cut in.

"Sorry, Gaston we're having a family conference, here. Maybe later."

He backed off with a Gaulic shrug.

"Karen, I'm not OK with swinging, you know that and I feel you keep trying to force me to go there. Maybe sometime in the very distant future, but not now. I'm really really serious. You can carry on a bit when I am with you, but this is going too far for me. You want to do this, give me your rings. Do you understand?"

She got serious in an instant

"I do Chris. Let's say goodbye to our friends, and go upstairs, just you and me."

Karen was clearly pissed at me, and while she acquiesced to sex she pretty much did the minimum, so I did the unexpected. I rolled over and said,