A Week at the Beach: A Hotwife Romance (11 page)

"That's a shame," I scowled. I didn't really care about the boy. It was disappointing that we wouldn't be able to speak with Bastian some more.

"It is but what can I do? This place is usually busy. I can't have a loafer on the staff."

"No," I sighed, "that wouldn't do."

"Enjoying your meal?" he asked, smiling at Samantha.

"Very much. Say chef, what time does an operation like this close up for the night?"

It almost scared me, how forward she'd become.

He raised an eyebrow, glanced at me, as if he might need permission to answer. I just shrugged and pointed my hands at her.

"Well service is over at eleven but I'm not usually finished until twelve. Why do you ask?"

"We were just saying what a pleasure it was speaking with you last night," she said, running her fingers along her neck. "We thought we could buy you a drink?"

He looked at me again. Probably wondering what she meant. I wondered how often he was propositioned by guests that way.

"That's very kind of you," he answered, looking between the two of us with a smile, "but I'm sure it's a bit late for you to..."

"Not at all!" Samantha interrupted, sitting up and leaning towards him.

I watched his eyes, attracted by the cleft of her cleavage, skitter down her chest before he could stop himself from looking. My cock flexed. He looked at me, checking to see if I'd seen. I just looked back, trying to echo Samantha's eagerness with my eyes.

"Is there a rule?" I asked, finally, sensing some discomfort on his part. "Against fraternizing with the guests?"

"Not really," he began. "I make the rules around here anyways. But it would be better if we met somewhere else."

My heart began to pound inside my chest. I looked at Samantha. Her nipples had tightened under the tight, red dress.

"Here," he said, scribbling something on a paper and passing it to me. "It's a nice, intimate place. You'll like it just fine. I'll be there around midnight. If you're not, no bother. It's my little watering hole and I go there almost every night."

I took the scrap of paper from him, glanced at it to see the he'd scrawled "The Rummy Barrel."

"Midnight," he repeated. "Remember. No problem if you're already asleep." He gave us a wink, nodded at Samantha, then strolled over to the next table to entertain his guests.

We stayed at the bar and had a light dinner. The fish we'd had for lunch had been filling enough. By the time we got back to the room, it was well past nine and I was well past sober.

I piled onto the bed. I watched Samantha walk over to the bathroom. She left the door open and I could see her reflection in the mirror as she touched up her make-up. She closed it for a few minutes and when she came back out, she looked even sexier than when she'd stepped inside.

The dress she was wearing was just as tight as the red one had been, hugging every one of her delicious curves. But this one covered her entire body, save for the slit down one leg that prominently displayed her toned, white thigh as she walked. She walked over towards the bed and sat down as I propped myself up for a better look. Reaching out, I touched her ass.

"So? Still in the game?" she teased, smiling at how drunk I'd become. "We could always just stay in?"

It seemed like a genuine offer. I thought about it for a moment. It was safe where we were. Just the two of us in a hotel room. The night was young. I though of taking her right then and there. I thought of calling the whole thing off. The call of the visions that haunted my almost every thought now was stronger.

"Do you want to call it off?" I asked, wondering if she'd tell me, even if she did.

"I want us to be happy," I answered, caressing the outside of her leg.

"Aren't we?" she asked.

"We are now. Do you think we'll stay that way? If we go through with this?"

She smirked. "I guess that's up to you."

Taking a deep breath, I swung my legs over the bed and stood up. I swayed a little but even that brief moment of respite had cleared my head. I watched her stand. She was gorgeous. "Let's go," I commanded.

"Okay," she replied. "Let's go."

The place wasn't dinghy, like I'd thought it would be. It was a comfortable place, a classy place. There was a small lamp on every table and soft jazz playing over the speakers. It was the kind of place I thought a guy like Bastian would come, at the end of a long day. We took a table in the far corner, close to the back. Samantha ordered champagne, I another scotch. Then we waited.

We didn't talk much. I glanced at my watch every now and again, excitement unfurling inside me at the possibilities the evening held. Would tonight be the night? Would tonight be the night I got to live out my fantasy? Would I see her with another man.

I watched the front door, much the same way I'd watched the door to the kitchen at the hotel restaurant. Every time it opened I held my breath. Every time it opened, I hoped it would be Bastian. She must have sensed my nervous excitement.

"Just for the record," she said, gently putting down her glass, "there'll be no hard feelings? However this goes?"

"No hard feelings. Only good ones," I replied. "I promise." I figured that even if things didn't go my way, it would still be a thrill. Besides, Bastian seemed like a really nice guy. When he finally walked in, I stiffened and took a deep breath.

He'd changed his clothes. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt now, instead of his well ironed, white chef's shirt. He smiled as soon as he saw us in the corner. He moved through the room with an ease and grace I hadn't seen in the restaurant. There, he was in charge, he was in command, his body filled with the tension that position brought with it. Here, he was in his element. Comfortable, yet in control. I rose to greet him.

"Bastian!"

"I'm surprised to see you here!" Ignoring my outstretched hand, he instead turned to Samantha. She gave him her delicate hand and he bent down low over her and touched it with his lips.

I felt my face flush at how I'd forgotten myself. Of course a gentleman would greet her first. Only after they'd said hello, did he turn towards me.

"I thought you'd both be sound asleep by now!" he beamed, seeming genuinely pleased that we were there. He took a seat beside my wife.

"Hey mon!" the bartender said, slapping him on the back then shaking his hand. "Good to see you!" He turned to us. "I didn't realize you were friends of the chef!"

"Guests at the hotel," I corrected.

"Well, friends now I suppose," he chided. "Or once I have a drink? This is James."

We exchanged pleasantries. He asked what had brought us to the island, how our time here had been so far. I tried to be polite, but Samantha ended up doing most of the talking. I could barely tear my eyes away from how close she'd moved to Bastian. He placed his order, then folded his hands and turned back towards us.

"So? I take it you're having a good time?" he asked.

Samantha took over. "It's been wonderful so far. The resort is marvellous." I watched her every movement. She was playing the part perfectly. Not too eager, not too excited. Like she knew what it took, to snare a man like Bastian.

After a few drinks, the conversation drifted towards the personal. How long had he been there? Five years now, since he came back from France. Was he married? Too busy for that just yet. Anyone in his life? He laughed at her questions. I thought I saw a flicker of discomfort, at how close she was starting to probe, but he seemed to brush it away easily.

"There are many beautiful women on the islands. Many just passing through, too!" he answered, flashing us a knowing grin.

Samantha looked at me, her eyebrows slightly raised. If I'd been any more drunk, or any less aroused by the situation, I wouldn't have realized she was telling me to go. Thankfully, I recognized the look almost right away. Excusing myself, I retreated to the restroom.

It was agony. After I'd relieved myself, I stood in the small stall, counting down the seconds, wondering what they were saying. Wondering if he was touching her yet. When I thought enough time had passed for her to ask whatever she was going to ask, I re-emerged. I found them leaning towards each other at the table and it made me catch my breath.

He whispered something at her. Not too close to her ear, but close enough so only she could hear. She giggled and looked the other way. My cock jumped. My heart began to race. I walked through the darkness and rejoined them in the dim pool of light cast by the lamp on the table.

"My turn!" Samantha chirped. Bastian lifted his sturdy frame and let her pass, then sat back down. He looked at me, one corner of his mouth curled in a smile. His eyes were curious.

"So, my friend? What's the game here then?"

It took me by surprise a little bit. I hadn't been expecting something so forthright. "What game, Bastian?"

He chuckled, like he saw right through my guise. "Your wife just propositioned me. You know that though, right?" The smile was still there but a hint of worry was behind it, like he might have read things wrong.

"I know," I said with a sigh. I won't say it wasn't awkward. It was, a bit. I could tell it was a bit for him.

"Why?" he asked, now seeming genuinely curious.

"Something she wanted to try?" I replied.

He chuckled this time. "Her? What about you?"

"I want her to be happy," I said, hiding my mild embarrassment behind a swig of scotch.

"Just like that? No problem? With another man?"

"Like I said, I want her to be happy." It didn't seem enough for him, that I would just give my beautiful wife away like that. "Did she tell you that I'd like to watch?"

For a moment his eyes registered his surprise. The easy smile came back quickly, though. He leaned in close. "You want to watch me with your wife?"

I swallowed, too loudly again, then nodded. I was absolutely certain now that's what I wanted.

He sat back up and a second later Samantha returned. He made to stand again, to let her in, but she pushed him across the bench, to where she'd been sitting.

"So?" she asked, looking fresh from her trip. "You boys sort it all out?"

I felt a pang of anger, that she'd left me to deal with things on my own that way. It passed quickly though. What could I expect? Only fair I do some work, too.

"It's all sorted," I replied. Too quickly, too eagerly.

She giggled. He chuckled.

I downed the rest of my drink.

Chapter 16

He didn't want to go to the hotel. Though there wasn't a rule that he couldn't fraternize with the guests, I suspected sleeping in their rooms would be frowned upon. I thought it was probably better that way. If for some reason things didn't go for me the way I hoped, at least it wouldn't be our bed they would have slept in.

He sat in the front seat, on the cab ride over. Samantha and I took the back. She stared, smiling as the lights of the town passed by outside. Just when I thought I'd have to ask her for it, she put her hand in my lap. She slid along my thigh until she found what she was looking for. She found it hard. As she squeezed me with her hand, I leaned in and kissed her on the neck. She tilted her head, closed her eyes, and smiled.

His apartment was sparsely decorated, but spacious. It seemed he'd done well, so far anyway. He had rum and white wine. I took mine neat. He poured her a healthy glass. I settled into an old armchair as they sank into the couch.

"Before we begin," he said, "you should know that you'll be staying here."

"Bastian, that won't..."

He interrupted by raising his hand. "You won't catch a cab back at this time of night and I won't have you walking. The sheets are fresh. The bed is in there. I'll take the couch," he explained, his deep voice rumbling through the silence of the night.

I wanted to apologize, to thank him for his generosity. When I thought about it though, it wasn't as if we weren't being generous, too.

"Thank-you," I said, accepting his hospitality.

He chuckled. Putting down his glass, he turned to Samantha. "Well, thank-you."

She downed her wine and put the glass down on the table in front of the couch. She looked so delicate next to his imposing frame. I watched him turn towards her, put an arm around her, then lean in and press his thick lips against hers. A nervous shudder of excitement ran through me as she met his kiss.

His large, black hand pressed against her cheek. He turned her towards himself. I watched their jaws moving, in time with each other. I could see the moment when he plunged his tongue deep into her mouth.

I saw it in her body, not just by the way her mouth opened to take him. Her back arched up from the couch as his hand fell to her side. His fingers grazed her breast. She seemed to want him there, her body seemed to need his closeness now. He put the hand on her dainty waist and pulled her even closer.

My cock throbbed in delight beneath my shorts as I watched her slowly melting in his arms. She was still my Samantha, but now she was even more of a stranger than she had been the last few days. Maybe it was just the booze. Maybe it was the weight of such a sturdy, handsome man pressed against her. Whatever it was, none of the prudish stiffness I'd come to know as my Samantha remained. Her body was liquid, taking his shape when and where he demanded it. I watched in agonized delight.

Their kiss lingered like that for what seemed like hours. Every time I thought it would end, he pressed his mouth closer to hers. His lips once drifted down her neck, down to the places where I liked to kiss her most. She just lay back, her eyes closed, letting him take her any way he wanted. When I saw that, I wondered if it was in me, to watch him take her in every way. My rigid shaft was not giving me much choice.

When he'd had enough of her mouth, I saw his hand drift up her body once again. He let his thick fingers settle on her breast. He found her stiff nipple easily, with a finger and a thumb. When he pinched her, she gasped. Her eyes shot open, as if the pain had swept her pleasure out from underneath her and set her back in the room. He stayed her easily with his dark hand. When he kissed her neck again, she sank back into her trance.