Exposure (10 page)

Our island honeymoon destination was
beautiful. We had a private villa on the edge of the sea with its own infinity
pool and terrace. We could lounge away the day in a double hammock on the
silver sand, lie on deeply cushioned loungers on the deck, or swim naked in the
pool under azure blue unclouded skies. There were staff who would turn up the
moment we wanted them but they never arrived unannounced or if we hadn’t
requested them. They cleaned the room when we were out, served us dinner under
the stars, and left us in peace.

Nathan loved it. He loved that we could
make love wherever and whenever we wanted within the confines of the villa, on
the deck, and on our own private section of the beach.

We tried in the sea too, skinny dipping,
our hot bodies pressed against each other in the cool water, waves keeping us
buoyant, trying not to drown, giggling. But I preferred making love to Nathan
inside, on the enormous bed. It was covered in the finest cotton sheets, cool
on our skin after a day in the sun, the overhead fan mingled with the sound of
our delight as we took each other to new heights of pleasure with our fingers,
our mouths, our bodies. It was as if we were in a bubble of lust and no one
could get to us—the perfect honeymoon.

Nathan’s kinky side could be safely let
loose there.

A few evenings after we arrived, he wanted
to tie my hands together so he used the cord from a resort robe, and he spread
my feet apart securing them with a couple of long silk scarves. I was tied down
and spread wide. Completely at his mercy.

“Now I’ve got you exactly where I want
you,” he said.

“And where’s that?”

“Spread open, all mine.”

I groaned, needing him then, but he was in
no hurry.

“What shall I do with you?” he said,
running his fingers over my nipples, back and forth.

“Nathan...” I was getting impatient,
writhing against my bonds.

“I’m going to do this,” he said,
deliberately ignoring me, and sucked my nipples and then ran his tongue right
down my stomach to the apex of my legs and lapped at me until I was begging
him.

“Please...”

“Is there something you want?” he teased.

“Yes, you.”

“You got me,” he said, and plunged into me
with his hard cock, then stopped.

I groaned.

“Oh, you want more?”

“Yes, more.”

“More what?”

“More please. More fucking.”

He grinned.

“So impatient. Don’t come until I tell you.
I’m going to punish you for being a bad girl if you do.” And he rammed into me
again, in and out, faster and faster until I cried out and came, a quivering,
shaking wave of pleasure running through my whole body, as he groaned out his
own release.

He untied me.

“I love it when you beg,” he said, as he
held me and kissed my hair, my nose and my neck. “So demanding. I love that.”

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you too, Mrs. Waite. But I’m going
to have to spank you. I said you weren’t to come yet.”

“I couldn’t help it.”

“I’m still going to spank you for being
such a bad girl. You defied me! You love it when I make you come, don’t you?
Even when I tell you not to.”

“Yes.” I couldn’t deny it.

“And you love it when I spank you when you
come too soon.”

“Yes.”

“Whose bad girl are you?”

“Yours, all yours.”

“Get over my knee then. Present your bottom
to your master.”

He grinned, and I giggled and lay over his
bare solid thighs, warm beneath my stomach.

“Yes, sir.”

“You know you have to learn to wait for
your pleasure until I’m ready to let you come, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

He whacked me over and over, maybe six
times on each cheek and I squealed and squirmed on his lap. I could feel his
cock against my bare side, getting hard again.

He ran his fingers between my legs, and I
purred.

“You love that, don’t you?”

“I love everything you do to me,” I said.

“Do you love this?” He stroked my breast
with the back of his knuckles, sending a delicious current of electricity down
my body.

“Yes.”

“This?” He teased and rubbed at my clit.

“Yes.”

“This?” He pushed two fingers deep inside,
to find the most sensitive part of my channel and stroked me with his
fingertips, over and over.

“Yes,” I said, squirming on his lap. Every
nerve ending was standing to attention.

“Bad, very bad, my insatiable wanton wife.
I’m going to make that bottom really glow.”

I gasped. He’d already given me as much
“punishment” as he’d ever given me in the past.

“Just say if you want me to stop,” he
whispered in my ear, and I knew he would. I trusted him as much as I trusted
myself.

He smacked my behind hard then, a minute or
so of nothing but hard, crisp spanks, one after the other, and then he smoothed
his hands over my skin, before he continued for another minute even harder, and
then another minute harder still. I bit down on my lip the whole time trying
not to squeal too much because I wanted to make him go on. I wanted to feel
every sensation as I lay there naked over his bare legs, getting lost in the
whole experience.

As the glow in my bottom turned to a sting,
and the sting turned into a burn, it was like I was on another planet, like
being drunk without the alcohol. I gave myself entirely over to him. I was in
his power. My body was his to do with what he wanted.

He stopped then, perhaps sensing I would
never tell him to stop, and he held me, smoothing his hand over my bottom,
soothing the skin, kissing the top of my head.

I wept a little. It had been so emotional
giving my bottom up to him like that.

“Did I hurt you too much?” he said. “Are
you okay? We don’t ever have to do it again if you didn’t like it.”

“I didn’t want you to stop. I’ve never
experienced anything like that.”

He held and petted me then and wrapped a
soft blanket around us both like a cocoon. I’d never felt closer to another human
being as I did in that moment. I didn’t understand it at all, but I just
accepted it. I was too tired to think.

After a while, he grabbed the after-sun
lotion from the table beside the bed and smoothed it into the cheeks of my
bottom, then we lay in bed, and he held me until I slept. I think he must have
slept too. I had no idea. It wasn’t late in the evening or anything, but I was
completely out of it.

The next day my bottom was still very red.
I had to wear a sun dress rather than just my bikini when the staff brought
breakfast and later when they cleaned the villa, but I wasn’t sorry, not sorry
at all we’d tried that. It was another dimension in our relationship where we
got closer than ever.

Once the staff all left, we swam naked
again, my bottom stinging in the cool water reminding me of the amazing night
we’d enjoyed. Nathan was very tender with me. He couldn’t stop kissing me and I
couldn’t get enough of his kisses. As we came out of the water, we noticed a
boat approaching the shore. A guy was taking pictures of us with a telephoto
lens.

“Fucking hell,” Nathan said. “I thought we
were free of them here.”

I grabbed my sun dress. I didn’t know what
would be in those pictures. How much could they could see from that distance?

In any case, it took some of the pleasure
out of lying on the beach knowing anyone who knew where we were could
commission a boat and creep up on us at any moment.

Nathan was puzzled.

“Why would they bother? It must have cost a
fair bit to get here. It’s not as if they can command much for pictures of a
guy who’s only made two movies. Maybe there’s some other big shot star farther
up the coast or something, and we are just an extra for them.”

We went to a restaurant in the nearby town
that night. I wanted to try some of the local dishes. The food served by the
resort was more international than authentic, though it was always delicious.
Our mood improved as the night went on as we drank cold beer, chatted with the
locals and ate a selection of culinary delights you couldn’t get back home.

I kissed Nathan and popped to the restroom.
The beer was starting to get to me. As I washed my hands, I heard a commotion
of chairs scraping and falling over and a couple of plates breaking. I came
out, my heart in my mouth, thinking we had to get out of there fast if there
was trouble. But I found Nathan was at the heart of it, his face a picture of
rage, wrestling with some guy.

“What the fuck?” the man yelled, as Nathan
whacked him again and grabbed the camera from around his neck, hurling it away
under a nearby table.

The owner of the restaurant and one of the
waiters pulled them apart. Nathan and the other guy looked as if they wanted to
tear each other limb from limb.

“What is your problem?” the guy snarled. “I
only wanted a picture. I wasn’t trying to rob you or anything.”

“Well, I just wanted to sit here with my
wife enjoying a quiet dinner. I suppose a bit of privacy on our honeymoon is
too much to ask from you bastards.”

“Privacy?” the guy spat out. “That’s rich
coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re all over the fucking papers.
Nothing private about you two from what I can see.”

“What?”

“Look for yourself, I’m fucking done here.”
The photographer pulled the owner off him and straightened his T-shirt then he scooted
off, taking his camera with him.

“Sorry, everyone,” Nathan said to the other
diners. “I apologize for disturbing your dinner.”

I sat down at the table, my fear that
Nathan was going to get hurt now replaced by panic over what the photographer
had said.

“What did he mean we’re all over the
papers?”

“I have no idea, but we had better find
out.”

He tried to call Paula, but there was no
signal in the restaurant. Neither of us had bothered with our phones since we
arrived. We’d been entirely wrapped up in ourselves.

Back at the villa, the horror of it all
unfolded. The photographer was right. We were the latest media sensation. Details
of our exposure in the woods on our wedding night were all over the tabloids.

The stories started being printed the day after
we left on our honeymoon and every article was accompanied by a grainy picture
of Nathan holding me half-naked, the side of my breasts clearly visible in the
shot, subtle enough for the cover of a family newspaper. The headline on the
first one I saw was clear: “COULDN’T WAITE” and there was an editorial spread
by our least favorite columnist, Lavinia Taylor.

The story continued the following day with
more revelations from supposed friends who were gradually filling in the
details, and there were more pictures provided of the wedding—everything from
the cake to the dress that had been seen hanging over a tree.

“Oh my God, how did they get all that?”

“Someone at the wedding,” Nathan said. “Who
else?”

It had to be one of the group who came
across us. I hadn’t see anyone taking photographs. Not that I was looking much
at the time the picture was taken. I was all wrapped up in Nathan, mind and
body, and once we noticed them, I was too ashamed to look to see exactly who
was there.

“Who would someone want to do that to us?”
I asked. “I can’t see it being anyone we know. I didn’t see any flash go off.”

“The moon must have been bright enough. The
picture in the woods is not exactly clear.”

“Clear enough to show me with no dress on.”

I couldn’t stop worrying about the whole
thing. I was out there on the front pages on the paper, almost naked. My worst
nightmare.

“Hell, Nathan, why couldn’t you have waited
until we were alone?”

“You didn’t take much persuasion.”

“If you hadn’t started it, I wouldn’t have
needed persuading.”

“Don’t take it out on me. It’s not my
fault. It must have been one of your friends. None of mine would do that. They
would know I’d never let them get away with it.”

“Well none of my friends would do that. Why
would they do that?”

“What about the people who came with them?
I’m not so sure about them.”

I had a horrible thought. “I hope it wasn’t
Kyle. Suzanne would be devastated.”

“He had a fucking big camera with him,”
Nathan said.

“I know. I thought he just wanted to get
some photos for Suzanne.”

All the guests had cameras or phones. I’d
simply put in a little note in with the invitations which was something like, “
Trying
to keep the media circus at bay, but you’re welcome to take pictures for
yourself. Please share any good ones with us for our album.
”

I didn’t want guests being frisked at the
door at my wedding and some security guy confiscating anything they could take
a picture with.

“Maybe we’ll never find out who did it,”
Nathan said.

It was horrible knowing there was someone
at our wedding who would pretend to be a friend, wish us well, as everyone had,
and then do that.

In the end, I called Suzanne.

“Have you seen all the articles on us?” I
asked, straight to the point.

“I thought that’s what you might be calling
about.” she said. “Yes, I have.”

“Do you know who took that picture and gave
it to the papers?”

“No idea. I didn’t see anything when we
were in the woods. We’ve had reporters around here and everything. I didn’t
tell them anything.”

“Suzanne, do you think it could have been
Kyle?”

“No way. He’s not like that. Why are you
picking on him?”

“It’s just he had that big camera slung
around his neck, and he was in the woods. And then he seemed to disappear for a
while. Were you upset at breakfast because you knew he was going to do this?”

“Of course not. How could you say that?”

“How do you know it’s not him?”

“He is a photographer, but he travels
around taking pictures for World Alert letting people know about all kinds of
disease and poverty, and the effects of war. Shit, Melissa. Have you got so
attached to your precious goody-two-shoes image that you blame other people
when you strip off in the woods and someone takes a picture?”

“It’s not that. We’d just like to know who
did it. And I remembered you being upset that day.”

“Yeah, I was upset because I knew Kyle
would always be away doing his job. I wanted what you guys had. You don’t know
how lucky you are. I’ve had enough of this. Enjoy your honeymoon.” She slammed
the phone down.

My sister was being dramatic as usual, but
the whole thing with the newspapers and Suzanne put a huge dampener on our
honeymoon.

In the end, we couldn’t go around in
circles any more, wondering how the picture got taken or who took it, or who
was feeding information to the press to pad out the story. Suspecting this
person or the next was driving us mad. So we tried to forget it.

We still enjoyed the sun, the sea, the
sand, and each other, but the paparazzi antics curtailed our skinny dipping or
any kind of sunbathing in the nude, and we only made love inside the villa with
the curtains shut.

We didn’t see any more boats, but one night
we had to call security to run someone off the beach who was trying to take
pictures through the villa window. The photographer was gone when security
arrived two minutes later. So much for our own little private haven.

“I thought you said no one would bother us
here,” I said to Nathan.

“Paula knew someone who was here, and it
was fine.”

“Someone who wasn’t all over the newspapers
already I expect.”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask her.”

“You don’t seem so upset about it at all
now.”

“It comes with the territory, all this. I
knew this kind of thing might happen when I got that first movie role. You
regretting marrying me already?”

“No, course not.” I was just regretting the
whole thing in the woods.

“Anyway, it’s not the end of the world.”

“Well, it probably won’t do your reputation
any harm. I’m not a movie star though. I’m just a teacher...oh fuck...I wonder
what they’ll say at school.”

“It’ll all blow over. Nobody worries about
a naked kiss this day and age for all the newspapers to make a song and dance
about it. “

“You don’t know what they’re like at my
school.”

“Just forget it. They can’t do anything.
You’ll make yourself ill if you keep worrying about it. It’s only a stupid
photograph, and we can’t do anything about it now. Don’t go on and on about it
all the time. ”

“Fuck off, Nathan.” He was really getting
to me. I had genuine concerns, and he was trying to make light of them. It was
his fault in the first place.

He tried to hold me to say sorry, but I
wasn’t having any of it. Shit! We were having our first married fight. I didn’t
think that would be on our honeymoon.

We made it up that night though. I couldn’t
be mad at Nathan for long. We were in this together really. I just had to remind
myself he wasn’t a natural worrier like I was.