Window Dressing - The Next Chapter

This story follows WINDOW DRESSING and WINDOW DRESSING The Sequel and you may wish to read them too.

Does a couple's shared love of voyeurism and exhibitionism ever excuse the crossing of marital boundaries?

My name is Jane and for the reasons that will become apparent you can simply think of me as Jane Doe. The story I am now narrating happened about eighteen months after the events I described earlier. I had wanted to put those events behind me, but after I confessed them to my husband Paul, he found them hard to forget.

Not in the sense that he blamed me. Quite the contrary. But while I considered my exhibitionist behavior shameful, mostly for the lack of self-control it revealed, he found it highly stimulating and would whisper things to me while we were making love. I admit that it could excite me if I were I in the right mood. At other times I just wished he would leave it be.

My book club (all women) had just finished a book that involved a romantic fantasy. and one of them brought the subject of sexual fantasies to a more personal level by saying she has fantasies and dreams that she could never share.

Joanie said used to feel she that way but since she has shared them with her husband things have been so much better. Olive said she hardly ever has them and tries to suppress them, as she thinks they are dirty and destructive.

My friend Pam said, "What about you Jane how's your sex life?"

"Same old, same old; Paul and I share some fantasies, but we are kind of recycling them, but they don't have the same power as when they were fresh."

"Have you and Paul discussed that? I think you should tell him.'

"No, we haven't discussed it, but I think he feels the same."

"You should discuss it. It might do wonders."

"Really?" I thought but didn't respond.

Don't get me wrong, Paul and I both have strong sex drives and fuck like rabbits, but even though we take the time to help each other get off, it can get a bit mechanical. Paul once suggested we try swinging, but to my mind that is a slippery slope.

As I may have mentioned in my earlier account that while business trips were few and far between for me (I have not been on one since), Paul has many of them. He has confessed that since my trip he usually takes the time to look out of his bedroom window in the hope of seeing a woman or a couple in a state of deshabille, if not explicit sexual activity. To his frustration and disgust to this point nothing that could remotely titillate him has happened.

None of this was on my mind when three weeks before my fortieth birthday he announced that he had a business trip to San Francisco for five days and would have to leave Friday.

"Lucky you," I said.

It's a place we have always talked of visiting. Of course, Paul has been there before, but only on business.

"Well, as we've always wanted to go, I thought it would be nice if you could come with me."

"Won't it be terribly expensive?"

"We'll have to pay for most of our meals, but Fergusson said the company will cover your airfare and also buy us a nice dinner one night. Recognition of the business I have brought in and the amount of away time it has entailed. Obviously, the room is covered."

"Wow! that's really nice. It's good to see they value you. Well done! sweetheart! I am so excited."

x-x-x-x-x

We caught an early flight on Friday morning and with the two-hour time difference arrived at our hotel close to Union Square just after 10am. Of course, our room was not ready, so we left our bags with the hotel and headed out to explore.

Paul knew his way around a bit, and so the first thing we did was ride the famous cable cars. We visited the cable car museum and learned about their history and then continued to the end of the line, the Powell Mason Turnaround, where we grabbed a coffee and listened to some street musicians.

Next, we took a cab to Fisherman's Wharf where we strolled around until we had built up an appetite for some lunch.

x-x-x-x-x

By the time we got back to the hotel our room was ready. It was on the pool level which is several floors up. Our room had a king bed and looked out on a small patio that led to a wide-open area, in which the pool was located. By now we were both ready to unpack our suitcases and relax. We had been resting for maybe twenty minutes when the phone rang. Paul answered it and spoke briefly. Replacing the phone he turned and said, "I have an early meeting tomorrow it should not be for more than a couple of hours. I have to meet the other panelists and review the facilities and the agenda."

By now I already knew that 'the business' was an important industry conference, and that Paul would both be doing one of the presentations and participating in a panel of subject matter experts. My husband the expert. I was proud of him.

"While I'm gone maybe you can enjoy the pool. That reminds me I bought you a little something."

He went to his suitcase and threw something white at me. At first, I thought it was lingerie, but it turns out to be a bikini.

"A little advance gift for your upcoming birthday. Try it on, honey."

I did, worrying that his buying a bikini without me would not work out well. However, I was agreeably surprised. It wasn't a piece of floss. Although it was French cut, very high on the thigh, it provided a fairly full coverage of my hoo-ha and also adequately covered both butt cheeks. It was a stunning white, but I noted that it was lined where it matters. I also noted that I should give my pussy hairs a trim before I wore it outside.

"You've still got it, babe," he said, and I have. I do yoga and work out, watch what I eat as a rule, although I am blessed with a great metabolism. And of course, we've never had kids. Turned out Paul shoots blanks. As I've said it certainly doesn't mean he doesn't like sex or can't get it up. That's never been a problem. He produces plenty of semen just no sperm, sort of nature's vasectomy. Saves on birth control anxiety and condoms.

He's not as buff as I am, but then he doesn't work at it. I mean we both play tennis regularly, but for him that's mostly it. Not that I mind. I still find him quite sexy, if a little predictable, But he sure knows which buttons to push to get me to an orgasm, and he rarely puts his own satisfaction above mine. How rare is that?

"I love it," I said, and went over and gave him a kiss. After that the bikini did not stay on for long. We were both naked and making out on the bed when I realized the black-out curtains and the sheers were both wide open. I got up.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm just going to close the curtains."

"Leave it, who cares? Come back and suck me you little exhibitionist."

I took a quick look and the pool area looked deserted.

"What the hell!" I turned and climbed back on the bed. The blow job turned into a sixty-nine and that turned into a vigorous fuck, while Paul told me he imagined he was fucking me on a nude beach with a crowd gathering around. That's one of his favorite fantasies. Just before he came Paul pulled out and had me kneel and swallow his cum.

When I looked again it was getting dark and I could see some people moving about but nobody nearby. I had a moment of tingly excitement as I checked. I was pretty sure we had not been seen unless somebody in the rooms on the higher floors opposite had good binoculars. I did not say so. Why disappoint Paul?

I looked at the time. A quarter past five. The hotel had made us reservations for seven at an upmarket Italian restaurant. They said we could walk there in around fifteen minutes. I don't know about Paul, but it is time for me to shower and get ready.

Of course, Paul had to get in the shower with me and that slowed us both down, but I still had ample time to dress without getting in a panic. Paul shaved as he had not had time to do so before we left for the airport. We left the hotel at six-forty all dressed up with somewhere to go.

x-x-x-x-x

I woke up at ten to eight after a great night's sleep to find Paul heading for the door. The curtains were open, and the sun was shining.

"Oh good, you are awake. I'm leaving now. I should be back around ten-thirty if not sooner."

I blew him a kiss and got up to head to the bathroom. As I finished my pee, my phone beeped. I washed my hands and read the message, "ordered you room service breakfast. No rush. Love Paul."

That was nice of him. I decided I should grab a quick shower before breakfast arrived. I sleep naked, unless the room is really cold, which this room certainly wasn't. As I showered, I thought about the great restaurant we had been to, the food had been amazing. But it had not stopped Paul wanting to go down on me as soon as we were back in the room.

"I thought you would have had enough to eat. Just let me go and have a pee."

I had washed my hands and pussy and Paul had steered me over towards the bed as soon as I emerged. I noticed the coverlet had been folded down and just the bedside lights were on, but they were quite bright enough. He unzipped my dress and let it fall to the floor as he attacked my bra. Then he had turned me around, knelt and slid my panties down my legs. I stepped out of them as he pushed me back on the bed.

"Aren't you in a holiday mood?" I had quipped, but truth to tell so was I.

I was indeed feeling playful, as he but I had clamped my mouth shut when he ceased his little nibbles on my labia and began seriously lapping my clit. Then his tongue was probing me and before I knew it, he had unwrapped the little pillow chocolate. He slipped it where his tongue had been and proceeded to eat it in tiny bites.

We had continued to pleasure each other for another half hour or thereabouts. Only when we finished, did I realize the curtains were partially open. I looked at Paul and he just grinned. I'm sure they had been closed before I went for my pee.

I had finished washing, but the shower was still running and, as my reminiscences faded, I found my hand had wandered between my legs. It's an embarrassing habit I have when my mind is on sex. Who knows what I might have done next, but that's when I heard a knock on the bedroom door? I shut off the shower and grabbed my towel from the rack. As I started to quickly dry myself there was a louder knock.

"Coming," I shouted. As I left the bathroom my towel caught on the door handle. As I turned to free it, I heard the bedroom door open. I turned round in surprise. The room service waiter was no less surprised to see a half-dry naked woman full frontal before him.

"I heard you say, 'come in'," he said, after a moment's hesitation.

"I shouted 'coming'."

I laughed and started to wrap myself in the now freed towel. He wheeled in the trolley brought me the check to sign, which I managed without mishap, and he left. All very professional. But it still gave me a little tingle. I wondered if he thought I had contrived it.

I saw myself in the mirror and it reminded me I needed to trim my pussy before I went out. In the end I decided to give myself a beach shave. It was usually Paul's job, and he would be disappointed, but he could touch it up in a day or two.

By the time I had finished, my pussy lips were shaved clean, and I had just left a neatly trimmed triangle of my bush on my mons pointing down to my kingdom of earthly delights. I noticed I hadn't colored it with my hair color as I usually do, but, so what, no one, but Paul was going to see it.

After I finished drying myself, I sat down on a dry towel to enjoy my breakfast. Still naked, I popped the breakfast trolley out into the corridor. Now I was being naughty even if no one saw me. Clearly my hormones were in holiday overdrive.

When I was dressed, I opened the patio door. It was nine fifteen and the sun was already hot. It was going to be a glorious day. I went to the bedroom door and looked out. The trolley was already gone. The elevator doors a few doors down opened, and a young man came out. He saw me and gave me a dazzling smile.

"Good morning, it looks like a wonderful day."

"Yes," I replied, "I think I might head for the pool."

"Good idea," he said, as he let himself into the next room but one.

It was a good idea. I quickly stripped again and put on my new bikini. I thought of taking one of the complementary beach robes, and then thought I might slip on my sundress. In the end after putting on my sunglasses, I decided the bikini was respectable enough and just took a bag with some water, a book, and my room card.

I had been going to leave by the patio door, but Paul had said the hotel had advised against it unless you were just sitting on your patio area. There was no way to lock it from outside. So, I went through the corridor to the nearest exit. There weren't many people around and I had no trouble finding a lounger. I took a towel from the shelf, spread it out and sat down.

I read for a little while, It was quite a raunchy thriller, and it wasn't just the sun that was making me hot. Time to cool off.

The swim did just that. The pool was refreshingly cool after that first cold shock you get in entering. More people were showing up as I did my lengths, but the pool was not crowded.

I lay back and let myself float.

"You were right. Great day for a swim," said a voice behind me.

I put my feet down and promptly came up spluttering. I had drifted out of the shallow end. It was, of course, the young man from the elevator.

"Wow, nice swimsuit," he was laughing with that fabulous smile on his face. His skin was very pale, seemingly untouched by the sun, but I noticed his abs were lean and tight. He must work out.

"Yes, it is," I said, wiping my eyes.

"You are absolutely gorgeous. I'm Mark by the way."

"I'm Jane, just plain Jane, and I am not gorgeous although I like to think I'm in good shape."

"Well, you are anything but plain. You exude a charismatic vitality."

Wasn't he the smooth talker? I noticed he was struggling to maintain eye contact, and as I looked down, I discovered why. Despite the lining the top had become almost translucent. I could see my dark nipples pointing right at him

"Oh crap!" I said out loud wondering if Paul had known it would do this. Of course, my comment only made more people turn and look at me.

"Sorry," I said, and headed for the pool steps. Once out I headed to my lounger and the towel lying on it. Halfway there a thought struck me, and I looked down again. Did I say, 'almost translucent'? It was completely transparent, I could see the whole of my breasts, even the mole just above the left one. Fearfully I looked more closely. My breasts are barely more than a B cup but perky and I like them. A properly fitted C cup is more comfortable for my outrageous nipples.

Looking further I did not have to bend forward much to see my worst fears were realized. The bottoms were as transparent as the top. My freshly shaved puss lips were visible and the triangular patch of bush that remained gave a lie to my auburn locks. I knew I should have coloured it.

I looked up to see Paul standing about twenty feet away looking appalled. I guess he was as surprised as I was by his magically vanishing bikini. I mean the bikini was still there, but it might just as well not have been. As I looked, he suddenly turned away and I grabbed the towel from the lounger and wrapped it around me.

"Here," it was Mark handing me a fresh towel.

"Thanks," I said taking it and spreading it on the lounger.

"That was embarrassing. It's the first time I've worn it." I realized that he had probably had a great view of my bum crack as I left the pool but probably not my puss.

I sat down and he went into a crouch beside me.

"Did I tell you are gorgeous? I would love to paint you."

Well, I had to admire his chutzpah.

"Are you an artist?"

"Yes, I'm just in town for a show of my work at a local gallery. I live in the North."

"Like Canada?"

"No, in California but close to the Oregon border. Are you in town on business?"

I nodded. "Minding my own," I thought.

"Listen. As I say I have this show and the opening is tonight. If you like art I would be really pleased if you could accompany me. It will be quite dressy the gallery is very upmarket."

I do like art, and I was tempted, but I did not know what Paul was planning for us.

"Think about it. You know my room. You can call me if you would like to go."

Wrapped in the towel I read for another twenty minutes or so, and when I peeped under the towel, I could see that my almost dry bikini was quite respectable again.

x-x-x-x-x

When I got back to the room, Paul immediately said, "I see you have picked up an admirer." Rather than annoyed he seemed pleased.

"Is that why you hurried away?"

"Did you tell him you were married?"

"It didn't come up. I've hardly talked to him."

"Well, you had your heads together."

"He's an artist who has a show in town. In fact, he invited me to go with him to the opening tonight."

"You should go, you like art."

"And leave you alone. That doesn't seem fair."

"Maybe, I'll go too, but separately."

"What! so you can spy on us? I don't think so."

"Come on it will be hot."

"You expect me to flirt with him?"

"Come on, he's an attractive guy who is clearly into you."

"Well, thanks to you I was wearing a bikini that might just as well not have been there. That would have got any man's attention if he still had a pulse."

"Well, your choice but I think you should go. Holidays are for adventures."

I was a bit pissed at his attitude, but I left it be. I wouldn't mind going so maybe I should. If I did, I promised myself Paul better like art or he is going to be very, very bored.

By the time I got dressed I said to Paul, "If you want me to, I'll go. I just need to call Mark, and then let's get out and see some more of this town."

I called Mark's room and was surprised when he picked up. I thought I would just be leaving a message.

"Turns out I'm free this evening and would love to see your show."

"Great, maybe we can have dinner together first."

"I'd like that," I said. "Where shall we eat, I don't think there is anywhere in the hotel? "

"There are plenty of restaurants near by. I'll meet you at six thirty in the lobby bar."

I turned round. Paul was giving me a quizzical look.

"I'm going, and I'm going to have dinner with him first."

Rather than disappointed, he looked pleased. I wasn't sure I liked that.

Paul and I took a cab to Pier 34 and found a place to eat a quick lunch before getting on a tour of Alcatraz. The tour took a good three hours, so it was a few minutes to five when we got back to our hotel room.

As soon as we walked in, I saw the message light on our phone was flashing. I picked it up, hit speakerphone and listened.

"Hi Jane, this is Mark. I am at the gallery. Slight change of plans. I have booked us a dinner reservation at a bistro within walking distance of the gallery, so I can be sure to be here for eight. The gallery owner has a well-known Art critic coming to heap praise on me at the opening reception. It is all going to be posh, so please dress-up, if you are still agreeable to come. I so hope you are. I will be returning to the hotel to change, and I now need to meet you in the lobby bar at six fifteen. Leave me a message on the room phone to let me know your decision. Hoping it's yes, Mark."

"What do you think? Should I still go?"

"Sure," said Paul.

"I think you planned to spy on us, but now you won't be able to watch us at dinner."

"That might have been awkward anyway. I'll come to the gallery, I'm sure I can find out where it is."

"So, I should call him and say 'yes'?"

"Of course, I think we can both have fun."

"All right."

I picked had put down the phone. Now I picked it up and dialled his room.