My name is Jasmine. I was in my mid-40's and living in Florida, when one evening in early Spring I got a phone call from Mark, an old friend from high school. We had each moved away from our home state twenty years before and hadn't seen each other since, but he was going to be in town on business for a week and a half, and he offered to get together and reminisce.
Mark had been my first big crush, though he'd never known it. He'd even asked me out a couple times, but we'd both been so shy that nothing had ever really come of it. While I certainly didn't expect to get anything going with him now, I did think it might be fun to see him again, so I agreed. We set up a date on Wednesday, his second day in town.
We met for lunch at a local restaurant, and I was pleasantly surprised when we really hit it off together. I told him that I was divorced, with a daughter away at college, and found out that in spite of a couple of near-misses he had never married. We talked about our jobs and our hobbies, and it soon became apparent that - to put it frankly - we were both a lot more interesting now than we'd been as teenagers. It was strange, but in spite of the obvious changes in both of us since the time I'd had that first crush on him, I thought he was still handsome and could feel some of the old magic feelings for him returning. It occurred to me that maybe you do get a second chance sometimes, so I offered to show him one of the local beaches the following evening, and he accepted.
We met at the beach Thursday evening. I'd been staying in shape and wanted to catch his eye, so I wore a pair of fairly short navy blue shorts with a matching short-sleeved blouse, tied off bare-midriff style. That outfit might have made my intentions just a little bit obvious, but I was confident that I looked good in it, and it was appropriate for beachwear. We walked barefoot along the sandy shore, and I ran in the edge of the surf. Mark stayed just beyond the water's reach, as he had come straight from work and was still wearing his good slacks. It was so hot I wanted to jump in for a swim, but I was afraid of what he might think if I did that with my clothes on, so I didn't. The conversation went very well, though, and we continued to warm up to one another. My outfit had the desired effect too; I noticed him checking me out at rather frequent intervals. When it got dark and was time to leave, he invited me to a movie and dinner on Friday night. I immediately accepted and recommended a nice restaurant that I knew was off the beaten path and would be very quiet.
The next evening I wore a lightweight summer dress. It was dark purple with a small white flower print, short-sleeved, and had what for me was a daringly high hemline. When Mark picked me up at my apartment, he had on thin beige slacks and a white dress shirt with no T-shirt under it, and it was easy to see that he'd been staying in shape, too. He drove us to a local mall, but the movie didn't start for another half hour, so after buying our tickets we held hands and wandered around window shopping. When we passed a little florist's shop that was still open, Mark asked me to wait outside and went in. He soon returned with a beautiful flower and pinned it on the front of my dress, his hands brushing my breasts as he briefly held the fabric to attach the pin. It all appeared completely innocent, yet there was a gentle confidence in his touch that was quite suggestive in a sexy, exciting way, and I found myself wanting to feel his hands on my body again.
The movie was nothing special, but it was nice to sit next to Mark in the dark and hold hands, and as soon as he put his arm around me I snuggled into his shoulder. When the feature was over we drove to the restaurant. I knew the staff there a little bit, and as we were being seated outside on their patio I asked for a paper cup of water. "This flower is so pretty," I told Mark, "I don't want to let it wilt. It will look nice in a vase at home."
When the waiter brought the water for it, Mark stood up. "Let me unfasten that for you," he said. I stood next to him and again felt his confident touch, but this time his hands pressed more firmly against me and remained there longer. He gently handed me the flower, and as I carefully placed it in the paper cup I was aware of how very close to me he was standing. I could hear his breath, and his arm crept around my waist. Then, just as I was sure he was going to kiss me, our meal arrived and we awkwardly returned to our seats. I was disappointed by the bad timing, but the evening was still young.
The meal was very good, as I'd promised Mark it would be, and after we finished eating we stayed at our table and talked for quite a while. When we did leave the restaurant we put my flower in his car, then he took my hand in his and we went for a long walk, and our conversation continued and got even deeper. We discussed things I never thought we would, and I even ended up admitting how enamored of him I'd been in high school. Much to my surprise, he told me that I had been his first big crush, too, but that he'd always been too shy to tell me. Laughing nervously, we agreed on what an irony that had been, and how nice it was to be older and more self-confident.
Later in the conversation, he mentioned how the kids used to call me "Jazz" and how I'd hated that nickname. That was true, I said, but nobody had called me that in years, and now somehow I wouldn't mind. In school I'd been a total wallflower, but while I was still quiet, the implication that I knew how to cut loose once in a while would fit much better now. I didn't dare say any more about it, but I hoped that he would get the hint.
Mark told me that I looked fantastic. I explained that my daughter had been getting very conscious of her weight, and I had been concerned that she might get fixated on it and get anorexic or something, so I had agreed to work out with her at the gym. Not only did it work for her, but it did wonders for me too. Mark claimed that I still had the same figure I'd had in high school. "But not the same face," I responded wistfully.
"No, it has more character now," he said. Then he winked at me. "And there's a twinkle in your eyes I don't remember seeing before."
After he finally drove me home, he took my hand again and walked me to the front door of my apartment. I wasn't really ready for the date to be over yet and was getting a certain nervous feeling, one that I recognized but hadn't felt in a very long time. As we reached my door, he said, "Jasmine, do you remember what we were saying about how nice it is to be older and more self-confident?"
"Yes," I replied, setting down the paper cup with its flower on a planter. A lump began to form in my throat.
"Well, there's something I should have done when we dated back in high school. I've always regretted never doing it, and this might be a good time to correct that mistake."
With that he slipped his arms around me and pulled me close. He paused for a moment, looking into my eyes, and I sensed that he was giving me a chance to say "no" gracefully in case he'd misjudged my feelings. He hadn't, and I put my arms around his neck to make that clear. Then he kissed me, starting slowly and gently, but he didn't stop, nor did I want him to. His lips pressed more firmly against mine, and his hands started to explore my back.
I was glad that I too was more confident now, because I knew that this moment wouldn't come again. I took the back of his head in my hands and kissed him back, tasting his lips with my tongue as I ran my fingers through his hair. When his tongue reciprocated, I opened my mouth to welcome it and drew it in.
"Oh, I wish I'd done that a long time ago ... Jazz," he said breathlessly.
So he had gotten the hint after all. "I'm glad you did it now," I said. "Maybe it's for the best this way: We were both young and inexperienced, and I appreciate it a lot more now than I would have then."
"So do I," he replied, "but I appreciate it so much that if you kiss me like that again, I'm going to follow you right into your apartment."
I knew full well what having him in my apartment might lead to, and it sounded promising. "Is that a warning or a suggestion?" I asked.
"I'd say that's for you to decide."
It was an easy decision. I immediately kissed him again, then unlocked the door and ushered him into my living room. We sat down on the sofa, he put his arm around me, I rested my head on his shoulder, and we began to talk again. A gentle breeze wafted through the open window, but it was still hot.
When the conversation turned to travel, Mark suddenly asked, "Would you like to take a trip?"
"When?"
"Right now, tonight."
I laughed. "Where?"
"Half-way around the world, without ever leaving this apartment," he replied with an air of mystery.
I was delighted to see that his sense of playfulness had developed a lot since he was a teenager. "Do we need tickets?" I asked.
"Your imagination is your ticket," he told me. "You just close your eyes and listen, and I'll be your guide."
"Ok, but I have to warn you, I'm terrible about keeping my eyes closed. I've never been able to resist peeking."
"Then go get a handkerchief or something to use as a blindfold; you don't want to spoil the illusion. I have to get something from my car, and I'll meet you back here in a couple minutes. Oh, and it's going to be very hot where we're going, so you'll be more comfortable if you take off your shoes and nylons." Then he quickly disappeared out the front door before I could question him further.
I had no idea what he had in mind, but it sounded like fun and I trusted him, so I went to my bedroom, took off my shoes and panty-hose, and got out a big dark blue scarf. For the first time in ages I was getting hot for a man, so in a burst of optimism I put in my diaphragm, too, just in case. I wasn't sure if it would be needed, but if things did go in that direction I didn't want any interruptions to break the mood later. When I returned to the living room, Mark was already back. He'd removed his shoes and socks, and he was kneeling in front of my stereo putting in a CD.
"What's that?" I asked, now becoming very curious.
"You'll see," he answered, "or to be more precise, you'll hear. Did you bring a handkerchief?"
I handed him the scarf. "This will be more comfortable."
"Excellent," he said, "this is perfect. Now close your eyes while I put it on."
"You've really got me intrigued," I told him, as he gently but very securely covered my eyes with the scarf and tied it in back of my head. "Where am I going?"
"You'll find out when you get there. Can you see anything?"
"No, not a thing. Are you going with me?"
"Of course," he replied. "This trip was designed specifically for the two of us."
I was getting a crush on Mark all over again, but with the experience and maturity of half a lifetime, it was a lot better the second time around. I decided that this time, I would enjoy the ride. "Ok, where do we begin?" I asked.
"Like any long trip, on a plane," he began. "There's a chartered private jet waiting for us. Let me show you to your seat." I held out my hand, and he took it and led me across the room. "Welcome to Astral Airlines. You can sit down right here. We'll be taking off any second." I sat, and found that he had led me to the sofa. "Whoosh," he said, simulating a jet taking off, and I giggled. "Now let me point out two major advantages of traveling this way. First, we needn't experience any of the unpleasant aspects of physical travel. For example, our ears won't pop, there are no seat belts because there is never any turbulence, and instead of hours your flight will last only a couple of minutes. Second, we really do get to experience many of the desirable parts, such as the plush comfort and roominess of the first-class seats."
"And the pleasant company of a fascinating guide," I added.
"That's it, you're getting the idea," he laughed. "And now, after a landing - whoosh, squeak, squeak - so smooth you didn't even feel it, here we are, in the Virtual Islands."
"Wherever are those?"
"Wherever I lands." I groaned. "Sorry, all tour guides are required to make bad jokes. It's company policy."
"All right, you're forgiven. What do you have planned for us here?"
"First on our itinerary is a boat ride down a small, scenic, tropical river. The dock is right over here." As I stood up he took my hand again and led me across the apartment, and with my feet bare I could tell we had gone into the kitchen. "Oh, I almost forgot to mention that we'll be sitting next to the rail, so you might get splashed a little. The water won't hurt your dress, will it?"
I was surprised by his attention to realism. "I don't think so, but if these are the Virtual Islands, isn't this a virtual river with virtual water?" I teased.
"That depends on how good your imagination is. It could be as real as we decide to make it."
I saw an opportunity to flirt with him a bit more, and took it. "In that case we'd better make sure about the dress. The 'care tag' is inside the back collar. Why don't you check it for me?"
I felt his warm hands on my shoulders, sliding my dress up a bit too high, pulling the collar out a bit too far from my back, and generally lingering much longer than necessary for the job at hand. I rather enjoyed the attention and let him take his time with me. "Machine wash warm," he finally announced. "You're all set. Now hang onto me while we get aboard; we won't ever sink or tip over, but this thing does shake a bit." He put his arm around me, I put mine around him, and he immediately started rocking us both from side to side.
"It feels like my guide is drunk," I observed.
No, that's just the boat rocking. It's not very big, but it will smooth out as soon as we take our seats." I heard him drag a couple of kitchen chairs over to us, and we both sat down. "See? It's stable already. Oh, and here comes Sparky the dog, our official mascot." When I heard Mark panting down near the floor and felt his forehead rubbing against my calf, I laughed and gave him a little pat on the head, then heard him return to his chair. It had been so long since I'd flirted like this, I'd forgotten how good it felt, and I flushed a little when I realized that 'Sparky' had probably just copped a peek up my dress.
Suddenly I heard the sound of water running in my kitchen sink. "What's that noise?" I asked.
"We're on a river, so naturally you hear the sound of running water. I told you it could seem very real. Now hang on," he continued. "We're about to push off. Chugga-chugga-chugga. We're going to enter a very small tributary, and the lowest tree branches reach all the way across the river right here, so be sure to keep your head down."
"It's so lush and beautiful," I said, playing along. "It reminds me of a 'tunnel of love' at the amusement park. Does it remind you of that?"
"Yes, it does," he said, before accepting my not very subtle solicitation. I'd never kissed a man while blindfolded before, and it was a rather interesting experience, the sort of thing I could easily get to like.
We paused to savor the moment, then he returned to his tour-guide voice. "If you look closely, you'll see all sorts of wildlife along the banks of the river. There are dozens of types of birds, and some unusual monkeys, but the most unique species around here is the Virtual Island Alligator. Some of them get huge, and they like to sun themselves on floating logs. I've asked the captain to look for them and see how close he can get."
"Isn't that dangerous?"
"No, they're vegetarians," he told me, and I cracked up. "The older and bigger they are, the more shy they are, and if you get too close they slip under water, making a huge, loud splash with their enormous tails to try to scare you away. There's one now. See the yellow eyes? He's a young one, only about four feet long, so we'll be able to get a good look at him. If the sun catches him just right, the green scales on the back are iridescent."
"Yes, I can see them, they're very pretty."
"Splash!" he said, and I felt a few small drops of water hit my face.
"What was that?" I asked, surprised.
"I told you they have big tails. We were so close he splashed right up into the boat."
I chuckled. "You know, Mark, you're a lot more fun than you used to be. I like you this way."
"I might say the same about you. I know I feel the same way. Oh look, there's another one, a bit larger. Not huge, but at least seven feet long."
"Let's get closer," I said.
"He'll make a bigger splash."
"I don't mind," I told him. "The cool water feels good in this heat."
"Ok." There was a long pause. "This one's eyes are more orange. The color deepens with age. Oops, there he goes, splash!"
I felt a considerably more generous sprinkle of water in my face, but this time I was expecting it. "Ok," I said, getting into the spirit of the adventure, "enough with the baby ones. Let's go find ourselves a giant."
"I'll talk to the captain. Psst, psst, psst. He says he'll cut the engine and drift, but we have to be very quiet. Chugga-chugga-chooooooog." Mark switched to a whisper. "The giants are rare. We'll be lucky to find one."
"I'm feeling lucky," I whispered back, and squeezed his hand.
"So am I," he replied meaningfully. Then after a long silence, "Yes! Look, there's a monster. He must be at least 15 feet long, and even from here you can see his ruby-red eyes."
"And his green scales are glittering in the sunlight; they're absolutely dazzling," I added. This whole thing was completely ridiculous, sitting blindfolded in a kitchen chair describing an imaginary creature, but it was fun and we were both having a ball.
"He must be asleep," Mark whispered. "I've never been so close to one this big. We could almost reach out and touch ..." Then he shouted a very loud "SPLASH!" An instant later my face was hit with what must have been the contents of a rather sizable glass of cool water.
I shrieked and sputtered, and punched Mark playfully. "I don't believe you did that!" I exclaimed. The front of the blindfold was drenched, and I could feel that my hair and the top of my dress had gotten wet, too. "You're even crazier than I thought," I laughed, "but I guess I asked for that. You did give me enough hints."
"Yes, and you're the one who wanted to find a giant," he reminded me.
Once again his actions looked very innocent on the surface, since he hadn't even touched me, but a good deal of the water had run down inside my dress and soaked into my bra, and there was little doubt that he'd intended for it to do just that. The implied message was very suggestive, and I found that I didn't mind that at all. I also realized that in the midst of all this silliness, he had been considerate enough to make quite sure he wouldn't damage my dress, and I began to think seriously about hanging on to this guy.
"Are you ready to continue our journey?" Mark asked.
He was full of surprises. "There's more?"
"Absolutely. There's a spot here where we can get off the boat and hike into the jungle. That's the best part of the trip."
"Ok, I'm game," I told him, still laughing. "At least now that I'm wet I'll be cooler for the hike. But I'm not sure this dress is appropriate attire for the jungle."
"No problem," he assured me. "In a virtual jungle, there are no thorns and no mud. It's completely safe and clean. Let me help you off the boat." We rocked and swayed back across the kitchen floor, and my feet felt the living room carpet again. "The jungle is dense," he told me, "so we'll have to depend more on our hearing than we did when we were on the river. Listen carefully." In a moment I actually did hear birds calling, and I realized that he had turned on the CD player. It was a nice recording, very peaceful and soothing. That is, until thunder started rumbling in the distance.
"Oh-oh. Are we going to get rained on?" I asked, remembering how real the river splashing had been.
"No, the jungle canopy is so dense here, the rain doesn't penetrate. You wait here, and I'll be right back." The noise of the storm grew very loud, drowning out whatever Mark was doing, and before long he was next to me again.
I leaned against him as the thunder cracked and boomed. "This sounds scary," I said melodramatically.
"Don't worry, you're safe with me," he said, kissing my hands and embracing me again, and it felt quite romantic to press close against his chest with the sounds of the storm raging around us. Eventually the thunder died out, and the sounds of the birds returned in force. "I think I hear a waterfall," he said. "Come on, let's go find it." He took my hand again and led me on a long winding path through my apartment, until eventually I heard my shower running.
"I hear it now, too," I said, more than willing to keep playing along. "It sounds like we're close."
"It's right over here," he said. "Watch your arms, this is a narrow passage."
Now I don't normally let men lead me into the bathroom blindfolded, but I was enjoying this foolishness so much that at the time it seemed a perfectly reasonable thing to do. "I love the sound of falling water," I declared. "It drowns out all the world's cares and troubles."
"Yes, it's so soothing, and it feels great, too. Here, let me show you." He took my hand and guided it into the shower. It was pleasantly cool, but not cold.
"Very nice," I agreed. "Such a wonderful contrast after the intense heat of the day." Then it occurred to me that if he'd taken the time to get the water temperature adjusted, he surely had more in mind than just sound effects.
"Shall we?" he inquired.
"Shall we what?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.
"Isn't it obvious? We're both so hot, and the waterfall is so cool. Wouldn't you like to stand under it together?"
"In what?" I giggled. "I didn't bring a swimsuit."
"This is the jungle, silly," he replied. "Nobody bothers with swimsuits. Out here, you just wear whatever you have on. Didn't you ever watch any Tarzan movies?"
"We're both still dressed for dinner," I laughed. "You're suggesting we walk into a waterfall like this?"
"Certainly. It would be refreshing, don't you think? Not to mention terribly romantic. Shall we?"
He was right, it did sound romantic, but it was also completely crazy. Even so, I found myself inclined to accept his invitation, but I wanted to flirt a little bit more, so I stalled. "My clothes will get all wet."
"They're already wet, so you're going to have to change anyway."
"Well, how about you? You're not wet."
"Not yet, but my clothes are washable, too," he assured me.
"This is your idea," I said. "You go first."
He let go of my hand, and the sound of the water changed sharply. "This is great," he announced. "You're going to love it."
"Nice sound effects," I teased, "but how do I know you're really getting wet?"
The sound of the water changed back to its original pitch, and I heard water dripping on the floor right next to me. "You'll just have to go by feel." The next thing I knew his wet hands were on my face and his lips met mine. As I eagerly returned the kiss, he suddenly pulled me against him, hard.
"You really did it!" I cried. "You're completely soaked!" His shirt and slacks were both sopping, and I felt the whole front of my dress getting very wet just from pressing against him, but being in his arms felt so good I didn't care.
"Of course," he said, "The whole point of standing in a waterfall is to get wet." Then he added softly, "Now it's your turn," as he picked me up and lifted me into the end of the tub furthest from the shower. Then he stepped into the tub as well and, taking my hand, guided me slowly toward him.
This wasn't what I'd expected, and I couldn't believe I was going along with it, but I didn't resist. Mark had adjusted the shower-head at an angle, so the water hit my feet first, then climbed up my legs as he drew me deliberately into the spray. Soon the water reached waist-high, and I felt my dress starting to cling to me as the thousands of pelting droplets saturated it and penetrated through into my panties. Given the mood I was in already, it was a stimulating sensation, and not just because of the temperature. Fully committed now, I stepped slowly the rest of the way into the spray, soaking the remainder of my dress, underwear, and hair. Mark re-adjusted the shower-head and took me into his arms, and the cool water streaming over us was indeed both romantic and refreshing, not to mention racy and sensual. It felt heavenly to be there with him and to feel the warmth of his body and his lips emphasized by the coolness of the water.
It occurred to me that, having gotten in the shower with him like this, I couldn't be much more obvious about where I wanted this relationship to go. Then I realized that, yes, I could be, so I reached around behind him, grabbed hold of his buns, and pressed him to me. I wanted him, and I wanted him to know that.
We must have stayed there in a tight, sensuous embrace for a good five or ten minutes, exchanging slow, deep kisses, exploring one another with our hands, our bodies slowly rubbing against each other through our thin, clinging clothes, until we finally exhausted the supply of hot water and the 'waterfall' started to get cold. "Aren't you glad we did that?" asked Mark, as we stepped out of the shower.
"Yes, I am," I sighed. "It was wonderful."
"You're fun to be crazy with," he told me. "That's unusual, and it makes you very special to me. Not many ladies I've dated would ever be adventurous enough to get into a waterfall and get soaked like that."
"Not many men I've dated would ever be adventurous enough to invite me to."
"I'm glad you weren't all worried about getting your hair and dress wet. A lot of women would be."
"I didn't mind. I like to get crazy once in a while, and it's not the first time my clothes have ever gotten wet. It's certainly the first time I've ever done anything like this in a dress, though."
"I hope it's not the last time," Mark told me. "Soaking wet like this, your dress clings to you, and you look incredibly sexy in it. You feel incredibly sexy, too," he added, and I felt his hands running confidently from my shoulders, across my breasts, and down to my buttocks.
He wasn't shy, so I wasn't either. "Maybe you should take off your wet clothes and hang them in a tree to dry," I suggested.
"Good idea," he said, and I could hear him peeling off his clothes. Then he kissed me again, and I could feel that all he'd left on were his boxers. "Maybe you should do the same."
I'd known this was coming, and it's just what I wanted to do, but the actual moment still came as a shock. "Ok," I said. "Can you unzip me?" He did, and I peeled off my dress. Getting undressed when he could see me but I couldn't see him was intensely exciting, and I was tempted to take everything else off as well, but I didn't yet. Mark took a towel from the rack and dried us both off, led me out of the now quite humid bathroom and into the bedroom, and gently untied the blindfold. As he slipped it off, I was pleased to see that he had already turned the lights down low.
Glancing down, I could see that my white bra and white panties had both become nearly transparent from their dousing in the shower. Mark was looking at them too. "You won't ever get dry with this wet underwear on," he said as he gently removed them, then slowly and deliberately toweled me off again in all the places they had kept wet. I slipped off his underpants and returned the favor. We climbed into bed, and after we stroked each other's bodies for a while Mark asked tactfully, "Do you think we'll need contraception tonight?"
"I'm sure we will," I replied, "that's why my diaphragm is already in." He looked surprised. "I'd have been rather disappointed if we didn't need it."
"And here all night I thought I was the one seducing you," he said, shaking his head in amusement.
"Women always let men think that," I teased. "But you did seduce me; you just didn't realize how soon you succeeded. I was already yours when I invited you into the apartment."
"So all the hard work I did arranging the virtual trip was wasted?"
"Oh no, that wasn't wasted at all. It made me want you more than ever. Come closer, and I'll show you just exactly how I want you."
Again I was struck by how much we'd changed in the twenty-plus years since we'd first dated. As a teenager I hadn't even known what I liked sexually, and I would have been far too self-conscious to tell Mark even I had known. Things were so much easier now that I was well aware of my preferences and wasn't afraid to verbalize them.
There was one thing that hadn't changed at all, though. In school Mark had been very shy and socially awkward, but he'd always gotten good grades. He was the kind of student who never needed to take notes, because he only had to see something once to learn it. Now, in bed with him, as I instructed him in the art of pleasuring me, I was delighted to find that he was still a quick study. We had the whole weekend ahead of us, and he was going to learn a lot.
Mark called me at work on the following Wednesday afternoon to tell me the job he'd been sent to do had unexpectedly been completed early, but his flight home didn't leave until 07:00 Friday. He asked me if I could get Thursday off, and if I'd like to spend it with him. I told him I could and I would.
The next morning was warm and dry, and he showed up at my apartment wearing khaki dress shorts, a white polo shirt, and sneakers. I had already put on a snug-fitting short white skirt, a very thin short-sleeved lavender blouse over a white camisole, and white sandals. We spent the whole day together: We saw the sights around town, had lunch, walked in the park, had our picture taken together at the zoo, saw a movie, and had dinner. It was a great day and I really enjoyed it. I wasn't head-over-heels in love or anything, but I was at a point in my life where I knew what I liked, and I liked being with Mark. When we finally returned to my apartment, it was still very warm, so we got a couple of cool drinks and went out to sit by the pool. The only other people there were a young couple deeply engrossed in each other.
"I've really enjoyed our time together," I told him. "I know I had a crush on you in high school, but this is different. I feel like we can really connect. I wish it didn't have to end so soon."
"I feel the same way about you. Some things really do get better with time."
"It's too bad you have such an early flight tomorrow," I said. "Couldn't you just take Friday as a vacation day and stay a bit longer?"
"What about you, Jazz? Don't you have to work tomorrow?"
"My boss won't mind if I take another day off. She's been bugging me to stop hoarding my vacation time anyway." I looked him in the eye. "I can't remember when I've enjoyed a man's company so much, and if there's any way I can, I intend to keep you here another weekend."
It was clear that he liked my idea, as well as my forwardness, but he teased me by making a big show of thinking it over. "I do have some time off coming to me. If you really put your mind to it," he said with mock seriousness, "there might be some way to persuade me to stay."
"I thrive on challenges," I told him, "and I'm sure I can convince you. Let's see, there are a lot of things to do and places to go around here, so I'll plan another fun day for us tomorrow."
"I'm sure you will, but that will be too late. For me to have time to change my plane reservation, you have to persuade me tonight."
"Then I'll just have to work fast." Mark's demeanor made me confident that he would be mine for three more days, but I wasn't yet sure exactly how he wanted to be talked into it.
"That's right, you can't afford to waste a minute. Seize the initiative," he encouraged me.
"I will, but before acting, a successful woman solicits advice from experts. Do you have any helpful suggestions about what might be most persuasive?" I asked.
"We've already spent a fair amount of time together. If I were you I'd think about the things we've enjoyed the most, and that seem to have caught my interest the most strongly. From that you should be able to draw some conclusions about what would influence me."
I thought for a moment. "I've enjoyed all our time together, but I guess my favorite part was our trip to the Virtual Islands. It was fun to be so uninhibited and carefree with you."
"You're getting warm," he said, and waited for me to continue.
"And your favorite part of that seemed to be the waterfall."
"Even warmer," he grinned.
"From which I conclude that you like getting wet." He gestured to indicate that I didn't quite have it all. "And that you like it when I get wet," I added, blushing a little.
"You're starting to sound persuasive. Don't stop now."
I wasn't about to stop. "Well, the pool is quiet tonight," I pointed out, "so getting wet should be simple enough. Would you like to go for a swim together? You could wear your shorts ..."
"I may be changing my tickets after all," he interjected.
"... and it will only take me a couple minutes to change into a bathing suit."
"But you can't waste any time, so those are minutes you can't afford," he admonished, getting up and taking my hand. He motioned for me to stand as well, so I did. "But that's ok, there's no need for you to change. You look great in what you have on, and you'll look even better wet."
"You want me to go in the pool like this?" I asked. He grinned and nodded in the affirmative. After our little adventure in the shower, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, but it was not a request I was accustomed to. "I can't swim with all my clothes on," I whispered, though I had a strong hunch that somehow, that's exactly what I was going to end up doing. "There are people here."
"Those two?" he chuckled, indicating the couple on the other side of the pool. "They don't even know we exist." He was right; they were curled up with their hands inside each other's shirts, oblivious to the world.
"This is crazy," I objected, but he just smiled.
"I don't know," I said uncertainly, "this blouse is awfully
thin." It wasn't hard to guess what would happen when it got wet, and again
he just smiled. Then, gradually giving in to the inevitable, I asked, "Are
you sure it would convince you to change your plans?"
"Oh yes," he assured me, embracing me and giving me a long, slow kiss. "I've been thinking all day about how exciting it would be to see you wear that outfit into the pool, and there isn't anything you could do that would be more persuasive." Then he began to nuzzle my neck, and I decided that getting a few clothes wet was a small price to pay for having him all to myself for a long weekend. Besides, he had already demonstrated that if I went out of my way to please him, he would more than make it worth my while.
"If I swim in my clothes, you have to do the same," I insisted. "If somebody sees us, I don't want to look foolish by myself."
He readily consented. "Of course, that's only fair."
"The water does look tempting," I admitted. He looked at his watch, feigning impatience, and I punched him playfully. "Ok, ok, you win. Let's do this before I change my mind."
We walked over to the pool, and when we reached the edge he gave me another of his grins and said, "Your turn to go first. I promise I'll follow."
"Wearing everything?" I asked. He nodded. "Even my shoes?" He just nodded again, so, with my white sandals still on, I stepped into the pool and walked part way down the steps, then stopped and turned back toward Mark. It was still early spring, and the water hadn't really warmed up yet. "This is the first time this year I've been in the pool," I told him. "It's still cold."
He left his sneakers and shirt on as he came in to meet me. "Think of it as refreshing," he said. "It always feels great once you get used to it."
I was flattered to see his eyes were roving across my body. I looked down, and saw that the water was brushing the hem of my white skirt, and the bottom inch or so was already wet. "I can't believe the nutty things you talk me into," I giggled. "I don't know whatever possesses me to go along with them."
"It's because you are ... I believe 'uninhibited and carefree' was the phrase you used," he said.
"You're right," I agreed, "that must be it." I moved deeper, and another few inches of my snug white skirt dropped below the surface.
"Thank you for indulging me," he said. "You look so sensual, it really excites me. I love watching you get your skirt wet."
Now that it was clear exactly what turned him on, I decided to play it for all it was worth. "That's not all that's getting wet," I replied. "There's a half-slip under it that's getting soaked, too, and the water is lapping against the bottom of my panties."
"Jazz, when you talk that way it drives me insane with desire," he whispered in my ear. "You're so sexy I can hardly stand it."
"You'll have to stand it somehow, because I'm going to get even wetter for you," I said, slipping away from him and wading out to waist-deep water to finish submerging my skirt. "I like it when you're hot for me, and it's so nice to be mature enough to enjoy it. I shudder to think of the consequences if we had done this as teenagers."
"Doing it tonight will also have consequences," he said with a smirk. "I hope those will make you shudder, too."
"So do I," I said, my eyes smoldering, "and I'm looking forward to it. But right now it's time to start drenching my blouse. Watch closely, and tell me if it goes see-through." I slowly bent my knees to drop myself a bit lower into the water, being careful not to get my breasts wet yet, then stood straight up again. The cold water gave me goose-bumps, and my hardening nipples strained against the only part of my clothing that was still dry.
"You're tormenting me," complained Mark, who was following me closely. "It's very see-through, just like you knew it would be, and if you don't get the rest wet soon, I'll die of frustrated lust."
"Well, we can't have that," I said, then held my nose and ducked completely under water. When I stood up again, my wet hair streamed across my face, and I had to push it aside to see again. The water had done just what I expected to the rest of my thin lavender blouse, and my white camisole, now clearly visible, wasn't exactly immune to the effect either. I'm not usually an exhibitionist, but with Mark I was really enjoying showing off my body.
He was clearly delighted with the long-anticipated result of my dunking. "Ah," he sighed, running his finger tips over the sopping fabric and tracing the outline of my camisole, "that's what I was waiting for." He pulled me close, and we kissed passionately. When he reached under water to slip a hand under my skirt, I thrust my tongue between his lips to indicate my approval. But now that he was mine, it was my turn to tease him.
"I thought we were going to swim together," I said, diving under water and heading for the deep end. Mark followed as I swam the length of the pool, but then he just moved to one side so he could watch as I continued to swim laps. "You were right, it is refreshing," I told him when I was done. "Shall we get out now?" He nodded eagerly, and we both exited the pool. The material of my white skirt was fairly heavy, but drenched as it was, the faint outline of my half-slip still showed through. I was glad we didn't have much of an audience, and I decided to tease Mark just a little bit more. "It's so warm out, let's sit and talk for a while," I said, and instead of heading back to the apartment, I took a seat in the same chair as before.
I'd given Mark exactly what he'd asked for, so he sat down with me and tried his best to carry on a conversation. It was plain that he was completely distracted by my appearance, though, and I took delight in knowing I could still do that to a man. As we talked I absent-mindedly fiddled with the buttons on my blouse, slowly slipped off my sandals, kept re-arranging my skirt, and did anything else I could think of to keep his attention focused on me. By the time we started to get dry, he was so 'focused' he was barely coherent, so I took pity on him and suggested we go back indoors.
He jumped up immediately, and we began walking toward my apartment, but as we passed the deep end of the pool I stopped. "Just one more lap," I said, and before he could react I dove head-first into the pool. I swam to other end and back, switching from one stroke to another to make sure Mark could see all sides of me. Returning to the deep end, I did a surface dive that I knew would pull my skirt tight against my butt and raise my legs into the air. I was glad I'd been taking care of my body and staying in shape, because when I climbed the ladder out of the pool, the way everything clung to me bordered on indecent. I knew Mark loved the way I looked, and so did I.
As soon as we were inside, I reminded Mark that he'd better change his plane reservation. "Later," he said, pulling me close.
"No, now," I smiled. "You're going to be much too busy to do it later. Use the phone in the kitchen."
"All right," he grumbled, and called the airline.
All the time he was on the phone, I stood just out of reach, dripping on the kitchen floor. I kept readjusting my clothes, grinning at him, and licking my lips. The instant he hung up the receiver, he grabbed me and immediately started undressing me. As soon as he had my blouse off I told him, "I should rinse the chlorine out of that," and carried it over to the sink.
He followed me, and while I stood at the faucet he ran his hands over me and fondled me gently through my wet camisole. "You'll need to rinse your skirt, too," he said.
"I will," I replied, "as soon as someone takes it off for me."
His fingers unfastened my skirt and slipped it off, and that went in the sink as well. He tried to continue undressing me, but I stopped him again. "I left my shoes outside," I told him. "Would you go get them for me? Please?"
"I want you," he moaned.
"I know," I replied, "but somebody has to go get them, and I can't very do it in my underwear. Go on, it will only take a minute, and I'll be right here, wet and waiting for you." He took a deep breath, collected himself, and trotted back outside.
I slipped into the bathroom to take advantage of a moment alone, and Mark soon returned. When he found me he took off his sneakers, and I pulled off his shorts and shirt, leaving just his wet underpants. "I shouldn't leave chlorine in my hair, either," I told him, then asked "Would you be a doll and wash it for me?" He was very horny, but he agreed, and a moment later I was standing in the shower in my panties, half-slip, and camisole. He lathered me up and rinsed me off, but then he lost all self-control and started running his hands wildly over my body and kissing me in the most personal places. I laughed and jumped out of the shower, and he chased me into the living room, both of us still dripping.
"I can't wait any longer, Jazz," he panted. "I've got to have you, and I've got to have you now."
"Then take me," I told him. He hesitated for a moment, giving me a questioning look, and I realized how very much he really did care about me. "Don't worry, lover, I took care of that while you were getting my shoes. I'm ready when you are."
He had his boxers off in a flash, and my panties were not far behind. Not waiting for him to undress me any further, I ordered him to lie on the carpet, dropped down onto him, and gave him what he wanted so badly.
After a few moments, when he could think straight again, he concentrated on returning the pleasure, and my half-slip and camisole eventually both came off. His hands had a very special touch, and he remembered everything I'd told him about how I like to be stroked and caressed. He repeatedly brought me to the brink, just as I'd done for him, until I lost all track of time and was begging him for release. By the wee hours of the morning when we finally made it into bed, he'd made me very glad indeed that I'd convinced him to stay for the weekend.
The next morning, as we hung our damp clothes in the bathroom to dry, I remarked that I certainly hadn't planned on swimming in them when I put them on.
"Maybe next time you want to 'influence' me you will plan on it," said Mark. "You look so good when your clothes get dripping wet and cling to you, the temptation is too much for me to resist."
"I had noticed a pattern emerging along those lines."
"It's just that you look so sensual and seductive that way," he explained, as we walked to the kitchen to get some breakfast. "I've always thought women were sexier wet, and sexiest of all in wet clothes that accentuate the female form and tease the male eye." He hesitated for a moment. "That's why I wanted you to wear your blouse and skirt in the pool last night. I hope you're not upset about them getting soaked."
"No, not at all," I assured him. "It did strike me as a bit unusual, but I didn't mind. In fact, I'm actually glad you're so easy to please, and I have to admit it's fun to get you all hot and bothered by giving you what you want. Especially," I added, giving him a hug, "since you're so generous with the 'positive reinforcement' afterwards. I am a bit curious about the whole thing, though. It's easy to see the connection between water and being sensual, but most men seem to be anxious for women to take their clothes off."
"To me, that's like unwrapping all the presents before it's your birthday, or reading the last page of a novel first. Where's the suspense, the mystery, the intrigue? I like nudity too, eventually, but anticipation really is half the fun. I prefer it when a woman gets my engines revved up by revealing enough to pique my interest, but leaves other things to the imagination for a while."
"It seems like a modest swimsuit would accomplish that," I pointed out, "but you were quite clear last night that that wasn't what you wanted. There must be more to it."
"You're right," he confirmed. "Swimsuits can be attractive too, but they rarely have as powerful an effect on me. Most of them are designed so that nothing happens when they get wet, visually or otherwise. Regular clothes and underwear absorb lots of water and look wet. They wrinkle and cling and are more, I don't know, more tactile or something - you can actually feel the wet fabric touching you as it moves across your skin, almost like you're being caressed by it. Swimsuits tend to fit too snugly for that to happen. And besides that, it's somehow vaguely naughty to get wet in something you're not supposed to, like you're purposely breaking the rules and crossing into a forbidden zone. I find that aspect adds fuel to my excitement as well."
I smiled, recalling the previous evening. "You did get pretty excited."
"In your particular case, I find you irresistible to begin with, so when you get wet in your clothes it just pushes me right over the edge." He paused for a minute, then continued. "In fact, I have to tell you something. When we were walking on the beach the other evening, and you started wading in the surf, I kept imagining how you'd look if that dark blue blouse and those matching shorts got wet. I know it was just wishful thinking, but for a minute I even had the impression that you might jump in, and the thought was driving me wild. I almost suggested we go swimming right then, but I was still worried about making a good impression and didn't want you to think I was weird."
"If only I'd known," I said sympathetically. "It wasn't just your imagination; the water was so nice I really did want to jump in - but I wanted to make a good impression too, and I didn't want you to think I was weird."
"You would have made an impression, all right. But then," he said, changing the subject, "you always have. Even back in high school, you had a figure to die for."
"Oh, come on Mark," I replied, pleased but also somewhat embarrassed by the compliment. "The school was full of girls prettier than I was."
"I didn't think so. I was too shy to tell you then, but I'm not now. I still remember how hot I used to get seeing you in your sexy red uniform the year you were a cheerleader."
"Gosh, I'd forgotten all about that. I would never have dreamed of being one, but I'd done gymnastics as a little girl and my best friend just about dragged me to the try-outs. She said it would help me come out of my shell. Maybe it did, a little, but I was definitely still the shy girl on the squad." Then I added wistfully, "That old uniform must still be around somewhere. I don't remember ever getting rid of it."
"I'll bet it would still fit, and I'll bet you'd still sizzle in it."
"That was in the past," I reminded him firmly. "I'm not a cheerleader anymore, and nothing is ever quite as perfect as we remember it."
"Oh, I don't remember the past as being perfect at all. Overall, I much prefer the present. It gives us the opportunity to improve on the past." He looked at me with a grin. "So, Jazz, why not be a cheerleader again? Things won't be the same, but neither of us wants them to be. Instead we can make them better."
I hesitated. "I don't really know where that outfit is. I'm not even positive I still have it, and even if I do it could take quite a while to find it."
"Try, for me. I'm patient, and if you do find it, it will have been well worth the wait." Then he added, "It will be for me, anyway, and I'll make sure it is for you, too."
I giggled and blushed a little. "Ok, I'll go look for it."
For once something was more or less where I remembered it being, so it only took a few minutes to retrieve it from the top back corner of my bedroom closet. It brought back a lot of memories when I laid it out, but there were more important things happening in the present, so I shook myself out of those reveries, stripped to my white bra and underpants, and put on the uniform.
It was basically a sleeveless, one-piece dress, more of a mini-dress actually, bright red with white trim. It was cut snug at the waist, the bottom portion of the dress serving as the obligatory short pleated skirt, and of course there were matching red panties. I was an inch or two taller than I'd been in high school, so the skirt became even shorter and more flirtatious than it had been originally. I also filled out the top a bit better as an adult, but considering the intended audience I didn't expect either of those changes to be a problem. More important, and much to my relief, nothing seemed too tight or too loose.
"So, does it still fit?" I asked, returning to the kitchen.
"And how," Mark assured me. He looked me over, slowly, appreciatively, from head to toe. "You couldn't look much hotter. You do realize the effect that sort of attire has on any healthy male?" I nodded to indicate that I did, and he took me in his arms and gave me a long kiss. He was wearing a pair of loose tan slacks without a shirt, and I ran my hands across his bare back. "Jazz," he told me, "if you leave that on, I might possibly go completely out of control and ravish you."
"I don't like the sound of that," I said seriously.
"You don't?" he replied, surprised.
"No." I ran my fingers through his hair and smiled. "How do we get from 'might possibly' to 'will definitely'?"
He chuckled. "You know me pretty well by now. You could use your 'persuasive' powers to influence me."
"Good idea," I answered. It was quite obvious what he wanted, and since the cheerleader uniform was washable I certainly didn't mind getting wet for him again, but I pretended to think hard. Finally I said, "You seem to like seeing me get drenched," then silently kneaded his shoulders for a moment. "It's a sunny morning, and there's a pool right outside," I continued, sliding my hands lower and slowly stroking his chest. "I suppose I could jump in. Do you think that would have the desired effect?"
"It would depend on what you were wearing."
"Let's say, something I know you like." I kissed each of his nipples. "What I'm wearing now, for example."
"If you do that, I will definitely go completely out of control and ravish you."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said, then pulled away from him. "But right now I'm hungry. Let's eat."
We began to have breakfast, and his eyes never left me. I made a point of repeatedly leaning over the table so that he could see down the front of my dress, and each time I did he took my face in his hands and kissed me. Then I deliberately dropped a spoon on the floor, stood up with my back to him, and bent over to pick it up. When my short little skirt rode up and flashed the back of my red panties, as I knew it would, that was too much for Mark. He reached out and grabbed me, spun me around, slid one hand up my legs to grasp my butt firmly, and pulled me close to him.
"Enough eating," he growled. "It's time for a dip." We were both barefoot, and he pulled me out the door toward the pool.
"But I still have my uniform on," I teased. "If I swim like this, I'll get it all soaking wet."
"When we were in high school, I always had a fantasy of seeing you do exactly that," Mark replied, pulling me ever closer to the pool.
"I had no idea. You never told me anything about it when we dated."
"Well, I'm telling you now. I remember one time in particular, we all went to a pool party right after a game, and you still had your cheerleader uniform on when you arrived. It had been a really important game which we'd won in the last few seconds, and a lot of the kids were so excited they were celebrating by jumping in the pool with their clothes still on. I was desperate with anticipation that you might too, but instead you went inside and put on a bathing suit. I can't tell you how disappointed I was."
"I remember that day, and now that I know how you felt about me, I'm really sorry I disappointed you. I actually wanted you to notice me, but you have to remember I was much too shy then to do anything that would make me stand out. I changed into my bathing suit because all the other cheerleaders were putting their bathing suits on."
"A tragedy compounded, and more's the pity," Mark replied, "but I didn't really care about the other girls. You were the center of my attention, and for the next week I kept imagining what you would have looked like with that outfit sopping wet and clinging to all your curves."
"Have you ever imagined it since then?" I asked.
"Often," he answered as we reached the pool. He sat down on the edge of the deep end, his bare feet dangling in the water, and I sat next to him. It was early on a weekday, so the whole area was deserted. "Vividly," he added.
I smiled. "Have you had any thoughts like that recently?"
"Very recently, and your curves are even nicer now." He squeezed my hand and kissed me. "I'd say we have an opportunity here to make the present more perfect than the past. Let's have our own little pool party. If we do things differently this time, there's no need for me to be disappointed, and you can be absolutely sure I'll notice you."
I stroked his arm and whispered in his ear, "Then let's do things differently. But there is one thing that won't be any different: I always used to wear underwear with these clothes, so when I put them on for you today, I left my bra and underpants on. If you somehow manage to lure me into the pool like this, those are going to get all wet, too."
"I'm so glad you're not shy anymore," he said, then immediately slid into the water and completely submerged, slacks and all. "Now you," he commanded when he surfaced. "Get in here with me." His eyes were riveted on me, and his voice was demanding. "Fulfill my fantasy, cheerleader, and leave your swimsuit at home when you come to this party. Show up without anything to change into at all."
"I love a man who can take charge," I purred, and stood up. My uniform had crept up rather immodestly, so I pulled it back down before walking over to the nearest ladder. I knew that Mark would want to savor this, so I acted accordingly and took everything slowly, with lots of teasing and tantalizing to whet his appetite. Taking hold of the handrails, I backed onto the first step, above the water. "It's a pretty sure bet that everyone at a pool party eventually ends up in the pool," I observed, looking over my shoulder at him. "If you don't jump in, you get thrown in. Yet here I am at this party with no bathing suit and no spare clothes. You know what that means, don't you?"
"It means you'll have to do for real what you've done so often in my dreams: Make your grand entrance into the pool and do your bathing just the way you are, still wearing that short, sexy red dress."
"Yes, but it means more than that," I elaborated. "It also means I was feeling very naughty when I decided what to bring - and what not to bring - to the party. Since I knew perfectly well that I'd be going for a little swim, it means I specifically planned ahead of time to do it right in my uniform." I stepped down the ladder, turning sideways so Mark could see my profile, until my hem almost touched the water. "It will be my first time."
"Your first time?"
"I've never worn this in the water before," I explained with a little smirk.
Mark chuckled. "I hope not. I'd hate to think that you had and I'd missed it." Then his voice dropped much lower. "If you want to be noticed, woman, give me what I want. After all these years, let me finally see what the most gorgeous cheerleader in school looks like the way I've always wanted to see her. Make me notice you."
I slowly lowered myself another few inches, and as the bottom of my red pleated skirt met the water it remained floating on the surface. "Being noticed isn't enough anymore," I declared. "This time I want you to crave me." I waited for the fabric that was already wet to get completely saturated, then pushed it under water. "I'm not going to accidentally fall in, either, or wait to be thrown in. I came to this party fully intending to bathe in my dress, and I'm going to get everything all wet for you on purpose." I began dropping deeper. "For example, those underpants I mentioned I was wearing. They're soft white cotton, and I can feel them filling with water."
"That's so brazenly sexual," said Mark approvingly. "It's deliberately, wantonly sexual."
"Yes, it is," I replied, continuing my gradual immersion. "I know how much you love wet panties, so I purposely left them on for my swim." Mark watched in silence. The water rose over my waist, then paused as it approached my breasts. "You'd like my bra wet, too, wouldn't you? That's also white, and it has a little bit of padding that will absorb the water." I resumed my descent. "Like it's doing right now," I said, gradually submerging it.
When only my head remained above the surface, I leaned back and let my body drift up into a back float. Mark was treading water close by, and as I bobbed gently on the surface, the waves he was creating washed onto me, keeping me wet and shiny and making my skirt gently undulate. "Have you noticed me yet?" I asked.
Mark's breathing was fast and heavy. "Jazz, I'm burning for you."
"Good." I was breathing hard, too, but I was doing it to hyperventilate. "Just wait for me to finish getting my hair wet, and we'll see where things go from there." I returned to an upright position, but as my body sank my dress drifted up away from my red panties, and I had to reach underwater to return it to its proper position. Then I took one last deep breath and dunked myself, but once underwater I flipped over, pulled myself all the way down to the end of the ladder, and kicked hard off the side. I glided under Mark, swam along the bottom, and surfaced on the opposite side of the pool.
Mark started swimming toward me, but I made it to another ladder before he could reach me. I climbed out, sheets of water slipping off me as I emerged, pushed my wet hair out of my face, and then stood on the edge looking down at him. The uniform was made of fairly heavy material and had absorbed a lot of water, so it glistened in the morning sunlight, and the red color was now noticeably deeper. It clung to me just enough to be flattering, and the water streaming off it splashed noisily onto the ground.
"I told you this would get all soaking wet," I reminded him, running my hands slowly over my bust and down my body. Then I grasped the dripping skirt at the hem and shook it a couple times, slapping it against my legs. "Just look at it," I suggested, as I gathered up the front pleats to give him a view of what lay hidden behind them. Gently squeezing the saturated fabric, I let the excess water slide across the front of my red panties and run down my legs.
Mark looked up at me with fire in his eyes. "Do you remember what I promised to do if you jumped in like that?"
"Of course." I straightened the uniform, puffed out my chest, put my hands on my hips, and acted indignant. "You haven't changed your mind, have you?"
He suddenly roared and hurled himself up out of the water. Startled, I squealed and scampered back toward the apartment with Mark in hot pursuit, letting him catch me in the kitchen where we both tumbled to the floor in a wet heap. Good to his word, he was completely out of control: Instead of giving me the gentle, sensuous stroking and caressing that I growing so fond of, he was clutching at my breasts and groping between my legs. I clearly wasn't going to get much satisfaction that way, but since I was responsible for getting him wound up so tightly, I decided it was my duty to give him some relief. "I can tell you want things fast today," I told him, and he just grunted. "Lie on the floor, on your back." As he did, I kneeled over him, head-to-tail, pulled his pants down, planted my sopping red panties in his face, and went to work on him in earnest. That really was more than he could take, and he climaxed, moaning and writhing in pleasure, before he could even get any of my clothes off.
A moment later he panted, "That wasn't the plan. *I* was supposed to ravish *you*."
"I didn't hear any objections," I replied, turning around to kiss his face.
"Not hardly," he said, "but I never did get to see that bra and panties you kept telling me about."
"They're still nice and wet, and you know where to find them."
Slowly, deliberately, taking plenty of time to enjoy the process, he removed first my uniform and then my underwear, tossing everything in the sink to rinse out the chlorine. "Now it's your turn to be ravished," he whispered in my ear, leading me to the bedroom where he dried me off, and under his once-again skillful touch I was soon feeling very good. "I've been trying to pay attention when you teach me what you like," he said. "How am I doing?"
"Oh, you've definitely earned an 'A'," I sighed. Then I gave him a wicked look and locked my eyes onto his. "But now that you've mastered the basics, I think it's time we started you on some advanced work."
By lunch time he'd earned another "A".
Sunday evening arrived much too quickly, and even though he had a late flight, it was time to let Mark go home. We had eaten dinner, his suitcase was packed, and as much as I wanted to keep him around, we had to get in my car and start toward the airport.
"That blue top and shorts you're wearing," said Mark as I drove. "Those are the same ones you wore for our first walk on the beach, aren't they?"
"Why yes, I suppose they are," I answered nonchalantly.
"Don't give me that innocent look; you chose those on purpose. You even tied the top the same way, and now I won't be able to get you out of my mind. I'm going to be hot for you all the way home, visualizing you on the beach like that."
I just smiled. He was right about the first part, and the rest was exactly what I'd been hoping for. He didn't know the half of it yet, though. Not being familiar with the area, he hadn't noticed that I was taking an indirect route, and he was surprised when we stopped at the end of an obscure side street. "Where are we?" he asked.
"The ocean is right through those trees," I told him, getting out of the car and checking my watch. "We're running early, and if we hurry there's still enough time for one last walk on the sand. I thought you might like that."
"You're crazy, Jazz," he replied, but he got out of the car anyway.
"Leave your shoes here," I said, taking off my own, and once we were both barefoot I took him down a short, hidden trail through the trees. It led to a tiny beach that few people knew about, and after sunset on a Sunday it was deserted. We walked almost to the water's edge and stood hand-in-hand under the night sky. There was no moon, but the light from the city reflecting from the low overcast provided more than adequate illumination.
A storm must have been forming offshore, because every couple of minutes a large wave would break on a nearby sandbar. A few seconds later the surge would wash around our legs half-way to our knees and run far up the sand, then recede to let our feet dry again. The bottom of Mark's slacks got wet, but he was busy looking at me and didn't seem to take any notice.
"This place reminds me of Halona Cove," I told him.
"Where's that?" he asked.
"On Oahu. I've never actually been there," I laughed, "but it's where the scene in 'From Here To Eternity' was filmed. You know, the one where Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr lie on the beach in each other's arms while the surf crashes over them."
"Yes," he said suspiciously, "I'm familiar with it."
"I've always thought that scene was so romantic - and erotic."
"So have I," Mark agreed, and there was a distinct edge to his voice now.
Another large surge washed around us, and we were briefly standing in foot-deep water. "I've always thought it would be fun to do something like that," I said, and snuggled up to him. "Even the surf is the same tonight."
He said nothing, but his breathing got heavier and I could feel the tension in his body as I listened carefully to the sound of the waves. When another big one began to break, I whispered "Carpe diem!," quickly slipped out of his arms, and dropped onto my back on the firm, wet sand. Seconds later a wall of water hit and washed completely over me. As it slid back to sea, I sputtered a bit to get the water out of my face, then saw Mark gaping at me, eyes wide. "This is what you wanted to see, isn't it?" I asked.
There was no reply, just a long silence. Even in the dark my navy shorts and short-sleeved navy blouse were glistening, and the way they now adhered to my body made it plainly evident that I was wearing underwear as well. "Get down here with me," I demanded. "You know you'll regret it later if you don't."
"Aaargh!" he cried, and threw himself onto the sand beside me. "You vixen! You know I can't resist you." Our bodies locked together in a tight embrace, and the next big wave crashed over us, punctuating our passionate kiss. His hands began to explore me with a desperate urgency, but I squirmed away and ran back toward the trail.
"We don't have any more time," I called out. "You have to get to the airport."
"Just another minute," he pleaded, standing up and staggering toward me in his sodden slacks and shirt.
"No, you still have to change, and I won't be responsible for you missing your plane. Come on." I ran back to the car, with Mark right behind me. "Quick, get some dry clothes from your suitcase. It's dark, so you can just stand behind the car to change." He reluctantly complied, and we were soon on our way again.
"You're still all wet," he observed. "You're dripping all over the seat."
"I don't have any dry clothes with me, so I can't change until I get home. It doesn't matter, this is an old car, and I don't mind being wet." I glanced over at him, then added, "I guess you'll just have to put up with me looking like this for a while." It's a good thing I was driving, because he would never have been able to keep his eyes on the road for the next few minutes.
Soon we reached the airport, and I pulled up at the curb. "I'll have to drop you off here," I said, giving him a quick kiss. "I don't mind you gawking at me in these wet clothes, but I can't walk into the terminal looking like this."
He climbed out and got his suitcase from the back seat. "What about my wet clothes?" he asked.
"Leave them in the car. Don't worry, I'll wash and dry them for you."
"Thanks." He closed the doors, and looked in the passenger window. "You'll mail them to me?"
"No," I answered, and waited until I had his complete attention. "You're going to come get them in person. We have unfinished business at that beach, and we're both going to wear the same clothes when we go back there. Now go, get out of here. Hurry, before you miss your flight." Then I quickly put the car in gear and drove off before he could respond.
I hummed softly to myself all the way home, already looking forward to Mark's next visit.
Shortly after Mark's first visit, the company I work for was exhibiting at a major trade show. My boss, Laura, asked me to attend it with her to help run the exhibits and presentations. I'd known Laura for years, and we were friends outside of work as well as colleagues. She was a good manager with a professional demeanor on company time, but outside of work she was an unusually outgoing, direct, earthy woman. She was a few years older than me and we were very different, but we complemented each other and got along quite well.
The two of us joined our company's contingent at the show, and our presence there was a big hit. Our flight home, however, was not so successful. Half-way back to Florida, we were diverted to another city, and it was so late the airline put us up in hotels for the night. Most of the passengers ended up in budget hotels, but Laura and I lucked out and were sent to a really nice place. Of course, we had to be up very early the next morning to board our re-scheduled flight, so we had to go to bed right away and didn't have time to enjoy many of the establishment's luxurious amenities, let alone any of the city's night-life.
We did manage to take advantage of one thing the hotel offered, though: the outdoor pool area. They had a conventional lap pool, but next to it there was also a more secluded area with a free-form pool. It was designed to look like a tropical lagoon, with a 6-foot high waterfall cascading over very realistic simulated rocks. The whole thing was surrounded by beautiful landscaping, and I had never seen anything like it. Neither had Laura, and she was determined to try it out. "I know we've been short on sleep for a couple days babe, but if you can handle it for one more night, let's get up really early and go for a swim," she suggested.
"I'd like to, but I don't have a swimsuit in my carry-on," I replied. To avoid any additional delays the airline had left all our checked baggage in the hold of the plane, so our carry-on bags were all we had.
"Me neither," Laura told me, "but I've got a jogging bra and a pair of running shorts, and that's close enough. You must have something you could swim in."
"I'm afraid not," I answered. "My bag is pretty small, so I wore my jeans and sweater on the plane, and I only packed one set of extra underwear and a dress in case I needed to go more formal. That's all the clothes I have. I'd buy a cheap pair of shorts and a T-shirt, but this late everything is closed and we have to leave before anything will be open."
"Too bad; it looks like a great pool. I'll try not to wake you when I get up."
I thought for a minute. "You know, maybe I will get up early with you. That waterfall would make a great backdrop for a photo, and I've been wanting to get a nice shot of myself to send to someone. Would you take a couple pictures of me? I do have my camera and film with me."
"Sure thing, honey. Back when I had time for a hobby, before I was a manager, I used to be quite an amateur photographer. I'd be happy to take a few shots for you, and see if I still have the old touch." Our plans established, we calculated the appalling hour at which we would have to get up to have time for her swim and my pictures and still catch the shuttle to the airport, then immediately turned in.
When our alarms went off oh-so-early the next morning, Laura sprang out of bed. "Come on, come on, time's a-wasting," she urged, as she quickly pulled on her shorts and top. I was tempted to go back to sleep, but I really did want that picture, so I dragged myself out of bed and did what I could to make my face presentable. "Get a move on, we haven't got all morning," she continued, collecting towels from the bathroom. I slipped on the purple dress that was in my carry-on, the same one I'd worn to the "Virtual Islands" with Mark, but as I pulled on my nylons Laura waved her hand at me and grimaced. "Skip those," she said firmly, and I looked at her a little bit puzzled. "I know you, and you'll photograph better if we go for the innocent-girl-next-door look. Trust me." I pulled the nylons back off, and we made our way down to the pool.
The whole outdoor area was, of course, completely deserted. Though the sky was now clear, an overnight rain had washed everything clean, and the trees and bushes all sparkled in the light from the rising sun. "This will be a perfect place to do our photo session," said Laura, "but do you mind if I get my laps in first?"
"Go ahead," I answered. "I still need a few minutes to finish waking up." Laura jumped in and began doing some serious swimming, and I brushed out my hair so it would look good in the pictures.
When Laura finished her laps she climbed out of the pool and walked over to me. "Ok, I'll be ready as soon as I dry off. I don't want to ruin your camera by dripping all over it."
"Oh, don't worry," I assured her. "It's one of those waterproof 35 mm point-and-shoots."
"Great, I can try more angles if I can shoot from the pool. By the way, how much of your film can I use?"
"As much as you want to. I'm not planning on taking any other pictures before we get home."
"Then I'll shoot it all. Better chance of getting a few good ones that way." She checked the exposure count. "Perfect, you just loaded it with 36, and we have a good 15 minutes before we have to run. Let's rock and roll." Laura posed me against a lamppost with the waterfall in the background and took a few shots. She really did seem to know what she was doing, helping to position me in the most flattering way, and she clearly had an eye for composition. "By the way," she said, as she cast about looking for another angle to shoot from, "who are these for anyway?"
"A friend," I said.
"Is he cute?" she asked.
"Who said he was a guy?" I countered.
She laughed. "You did, just then. So, is he cute?"
I blushed a little. "Yes, he is. I knew him in high school, but we ran into each other again a little while ago, and we're really hitting it off."
"Is he good in bed?"
"Laura!" I glared at her, and I could feel my face flushing with embarrassment.
"Oh, all right, all right, I'll mind my own business. Go stand on that flat rock for the next shot."
"That's easy for you to say," I protested. Laura looked at me, perplexed. "That rock is in the middle of the pool," I explained, "and in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly dressed for a swim."
"Don't be silly," she told me, exasperated. "It's only a foot deep there, so you can wade over to it." I slipped off my shoes and stepped into the pool where she directed. The water was pleasantly warm, and I easily reached the spot Laura wanted without getting my clothes wet. She waded back into the pool herself, took a shot or two of me standing there, then frowned. "Composition's wrong," she said. "You need to sit instead of standing."
"The rock's still wet from the rain," I pointed out. "If I sit down here, my dress really will get wet."
"Is it washable?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And you can wear your jeans and sweater for the flight, right?"
"Well, yes, but ..."
"So get with the program, girl, and sit on the stupid rock. I'm going to make you look fabulous, but you have to cooperate with the photographer, and since you can change as soon as we're done a little water's not going to hurt anything." I silently complied, sitting where she directed, and she arranged my feet, legs, arms, hands, and head until she had a pose she liked. Laura took two or three exposures, then told me bluntly, "hike that dress higher. This shot needs more cheesecake."
"It's a pretty short dress to begin with," I objected. "I don't want my underpants to show."
"Don't be such a prude," she retorted. "Show him some leg; you've got nice ones. If anything peeks out that shouldn't I'll let you know, and you don't have to send him any prints you're not comfortable with. Besides," she added with a wicked smile, "what good is all that time you spend working out if you can't flaunt the results." Carefully I did as Laura directed, and the shutter clicked some more. "Ok, that one's done," she said. "See, I told you a little water wouldn't hurt your dress."
I stood up, felt my butt, and made a face at her. "Not only my dress; you made me get the backside of my panties soaked, too."
"Oh, stop whining," she told me. "It doesn't show in the photos, and you already told me you've got extra underwear with you, so forget about it and concentrate on looking good for Mr. Someone Special."
I stuck out my tongue at her and grinned. "Just because you're right, you don't have to be so superior about it."
"Next shot," she said. "Climb over there and stand right next to the waterfall." I carefully maneuvered over the rocks until the spray from the falls was almost hitting me, and Laura continued making exposures. I figured we still had some time and film left, and I could see that Laura was really getting into this whole fashion-shoot thing, so I made a snap decision to make the most of this opportunity.
"How about if I stick my hand in, so the water splashes?" I suggested.
"Now you've got the idea!" Laura encouraged. "That will make a great picture." I reached into the falls and turned my hand so some of the water would splash onto me. "Got it!" said Laura, and I stepped off to one side. I'd allowed the splashing to get fairly vigorous, and the front of my dress now sported a couple of very noticeable wet spots. Laura looked at me and winked. "Oh, very sexy."
I climbed down off the rock and into the shallow water again. "How about some wading shots?"
"That'll work," Laura replied, positioning herself in front of me. "But you've got to look sultry for the camera, like you're going to make passionate love to it." I did my best, imagining it was Mark behind the lens, and as I waded toward her Laura slowly backed up to maintain her relative position. "It gets deeper here," she warned me. "Your dress is about to hit the water."
I stopped, but only briefly. "I'm already going to have to change anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter now," I said with a shrug. "In for a penny, in for a pound." With that I resumed my slow forward motion, letting the water lift the bottom of my purple dress, until I was waist-deep with the dress floating in a circle on the surface around me.
"These shots will be fantastic," Laura enthused. "About the only classic pose we haven't done yet is you standing in the middle of the waterfall." She was joking, but taking her remark as my cue, I turned and waded straight over to the falls. After climbing onto the rocks, I hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath, and stepped directly into the center of the cascade. It drenched me instantly.
"A little forward, so the spray doesn't hide you," directed Laura, not missing a beat. "Now sit down at the bottom of the waterfall. Do the cheesecake bit again, but this time with water hitting your shoulders, and make sure you're mostly out of the main stream so I can see you clearly." I did as she said, making minor adjustments until she was satisfied. "Now smile and say 'orgasm'" she instructed, capturing my expression as I involuntarily giggled.
I let her click away, then asked, "How many shots are left?"
"About six," she answered. "Any more ideas?"
I climbed back down into the pool and swam underwater, surfacing slowly right in front of her. "Oh, yes!" she said. "Do that a couple more times so I can catch it." I did, and then had her shoot the remaining couple frames of me floating on my back. "You're a good model," she commented, as we both climbed out of the pool and draped towels around ourselves. "Your special someone is going to love these."
We were about to run back up to our room to change, when a man with a hotel badge walked up to us. "Excuse me," he said politely but firmly. "May I see your photography release from the hotel?"
Laura took charge and slipped right into her 'manager' role, which was quite an accomplishment considering that she was wrapped in a towel and her shorts were dripping. "There must be a misunderstanding," she said. "I wasn't aware that we needed one."
"All commercial photography must be cleared with the head office. I'm afraid you won't be able to publish those without a release."
"Oh, these aren't commercial," Laura explained. "We're staying here at the hotel, and those were just 'wish-you-were-here' shots for her boyfriend." It's a good thing Laura was handling things, because I was turning seven shades of red and trying to hide my face.
He looked back and forth between us, appearing somewhat less than fully convinced. "You looked very professional. I assumed it was for a magazine or something."
"With a little cheapo camera like this? No, we were just pretending to know what we were doing, and we got a little carried away. Don't worry, none of these will ever be published anywhere. My friend would kill me if they were."
"I see," he said, sounding uncertain what to do with us, then apparently giving up on the whole thing. "Well, in that case," he said brusquely, "have a nice day, ladies." He started to leave, then turned and stared directly at me. "Lucky devil," he added. "He really is going to wish he were here." Then he quickly walked away.
"Oh, that was close," I gasped. "I thought we were in trouble for sure."
"Don't sweat it, kid," laughed Laura. "Managers always look for the easiest solution, and the easiest thing for him to do was to forget he ever saw us. But if we miss that plane we really will be in trouble. We better beat feet." We rushed back to the room, stripped, quickly rinsed the chlorine out of our wet clothes and stuffed them into plastic bags, and dried off.
"Oh, no," I cried, as we dressed again. "I was sure I'd packed panties and a bra, but I must have forgotten them. All I have are my jeans and sweater."
"Then that's what you'll have to wear," snapped Laura impatiently. "The bus leaves in five minutes, and we have to run, as in right now!" It felt strange going out in public without any underwear under my clothes, but nobody seemed to notice, and we did just barely catch the shuttle to the airport. I was grateful, though, that my jeans were dark and my sweater was heavy. The rest of the trip went smoothly, and I dropped off the film as soon as we got home.
A couple days later I picked up the prints. Laura had done fine work, and I was able to pick out half a dozen really nice pictures that I knew Mark would love. I arranged them in sequence, starting with a completely dry shot of me leaning on the lamppost, and getting progressively wetter. I wrote a teasing little note to go with each one, telling about how we ended up at the hotel, why I had no swimsuit with me, and how I really hadn't planned to go in the pool at all but somehow managed to keep getting wetter and wetter until I finally ended up swimming with all my clothes on. Then I put the pictures and notes in numbered envelopes addressed to Mark. Every couple of days for the next week and a half I mailed one, so that he would receive them in order.
The very best picture showed me at the base of the waterfall, sitting right in the shallow stream that ran into the pool. The falling water formed a backdrop, water was splashing onto my shoulders and running down my arms, my legs were glistening, my butt was firmly planted in three inches of water, my hair was dripping, and I had a sexy smile. To top it all off, my dark purple dress, painstakingly arranged so that my underwear was almost, but not quite, exposed, was completely soaking wet and clinging tightly to me everywhere. I had that one enlarged into an 8x10, and it was ready in time to be mailed as the sequence finale.
I figured it wouldn't be long before I heard from Mark again, and I was right. The day he received the large print he called me. "You're conditioning me," he grumbled, "like Pavlov did with his dogs."
"What do you mean?" I chuckled. "Have you been salivating?"
"Copiously," he answered, "but it gets worse. I get all excited every time I go to the mailbox. Visibly so, if you get my drift."
"That doesn't sound so bad. I thought you rather liked it when I got you all excited."
"Well, yes, except that I've known my mail carrier for years, and now I've had to start avoiding him so he won't think I've suddenly gotten the hots for him." I could tell from Mark's voice that my little photo-essay had achieved its intended results. "I want you, Jazz, and I accept."
"Accept what?"
"You light my fire, and if that last picture isn't an invitation to fly down and fan the flames with you, I don't know what is. When should I come?"
"It sounds like you need a cold shower," I teased.
"On the contrary," he replied, "I think you're the one who should get a shower, and I know just the man to give it to you."
"Well, if that's how it's going to be - I hope he gives me a long, hot one."
"As long and hot as you care to make it."
"Is he going to join me?" I asked.
"That's one way to put it. Some things are meant to be shared."
"This man you have in mind," I continued, "do I know him?"
"Intimately, and he intends to 'know' you, too." Then Mark returned to his original question. "So, when should I come?"
I knew I had him hooked, so the traditional feminine procedure would have been to play hard-to-get. "Anytime you want to," I told him. "The sooner the better." He had me hooked, too, and by the time we hung up the phone the date of his next trip was set.
It was a warm Friday evening in summer, and Mark was on his way back to visit me. After dinner I changed into the dark blue shorts and matching short-sleeved blouse that he liked so much, loaded a few things into the car, and drove to the airport to pick him up. Fortunately I also brought a book to read, because his flight was delayed and didn't arrive until after 01:00. When he finally walked into the gate area, we embraced and had a long, slow kiss. "It's good to see you," I told him, "but you look tired."
"Yes, it's been a long day," he replied. "I had to stay late at work, and went from there straight to the airport, and then we spent more time on the ground than in the air. I do feel a bit bedraggled." He was still in a business suit, and it was starting to look like one big wrinkle. Then he kissed me again. "But seeing you is enough to perk me up." He ran his eyes over me, clearly noting my choice of clothing, but didn't say anything more.
Mark hadn't checked any bags so we went straight to my car and I began driving us back to my apartment. Once we got into the residential neighborhoods, the roads were quiet and empty. Mark appeared to be dozing off, but he suddenly sat up and said, "This street looks familiar."
"It should; we've been here before." I pulled off at the end of the street. "This is where our private little beach is, remember?"
"Jazz, you are one wild woman. I never know what to expect from you."
"You wouldn't have it any other way, would you?" He grinned and nodded. "Are you too tired for a romantic stroll along the shore?"
"I was," he replied, opening his door, "but you seem to have a way of energizing me."
"You're not dressed for walking in the sand. The clothes you left behind last time you were here would be better, and they're right on the back seat. Why don't you slip into those?"
He stepped behind the car and began to change. "Even my underwear is here," he said suspiciously. "It certainly is an interesting coincidence that all this just happened to be in your car."
"Yes, it certainly is."
"I get the distinct feeling you have something planned for us tonight," he said, buttoning his shirt. "Do you recall mentioning something last time about unfinished business?"
"I've been waiting to see you for a long time, and I want you to feel welcome," I replied, deliberately not answering his question. When he finished changing, I took a big blanket from the car, and we walked to the beach. Unlike the last time we'd been here, on this night there was a bright moon and the air was still and hot. I spread out the blanket next to the trees, we took off our shoes, he took my hand in his, and we walked down the sand to the very edge of the ocean. The water was warm and calm, and with gentle ripples caressing our toes, he pulled me into his arms and our lips met. The kiss was tender, but with undertones of urgency on both his part and mine.
"I can't help but notice that we're both dressed exactly the same way as the last time we were here. That's no accident, is it?" he asked, but his smile made it clear he already knew it wasn't.
I tried to sound innocent. "This outfit is very comfortable on a hot night, and I know how much you like it."
"That's not what I meant. You'd better be careful about tempting me, woman."
"I am being careful," I assured him. "I'm being very careful."
His smile grew wider. "There's no flight to catch tonight," he warned. "If you get me excited, things aren't going to be like last time. Tonight I'm not going to accept any excuses for not finishing what we start."
"Good," I replied, "I hate excuses." I put my arms around his neck and gave him a light, lingering kiss. "Is there something you'd like to start?"
"There sure is," he growled, and his hand slid under my blouse.
"Whoa, down boy!" I laughed. "Take it easy. We've got all night, so there's no need to rush things."
"Jazz, you know what I want. Please don't tell me you're going to leave me hanging like you did last time."
"Let's just say you'll enjoy it even more if you have to wait for it. Can we start with something a little slower and more romantic?"
He withdrew his hand from my blouse and took a deep breath. "All right, how about wading along the beach together?" he said. "The water is so warm and sensuous tonight."
"That sounds good to me," I replied. Taking his hand in mine, I waded out into the water, but not quite deep enough to get my shorts wet. He followed without hesitation, soaking his slacks to his knees. We walked down to a little spit, where we spent some more time catching up on kissing and petting before returning to our starting point. I snuggled up close to him and ran my fingers through his hair. "The water really is wonderful tonight," I sighed, "and it feels so sexy washing around our legs. Do you know what I've been hoping we could do ever since I left the apartment?"
"I could guess any number of things," he replied. "What specifically did you have in mind?"
"I feel like going for a moonlight swim."
"That's what I've been hoping we could do, too," he said, "and it's certainly the right weather for it." His hands were roving purposefully over my body, stroking my butt and following the outlines of my bra, and this time I did nothing to discourage him. "Tell me one thing, though," he asked. "If you knew you wanted to swim, why doesn't it feel like you're wearing a bathing suit under your clothes?"
"Because I'm not. Nylon can get so unpleasant if you have it on for too long, and I knew I could be at the airport for quite a while, so I decided to be comfortable and wore regular underwear instead."
"Even if you didn't wear it, you could have brought a suit along." Mark kept stroking me while we talked. "But I'm going to make a wild guess that you didn't."
"You're right, I didn't." I paused to massage his back, then added, "I didn't bring one for you, either, but it would be a terrible shame not to enjoy such a lovely evening to its fullest."
"It would indeed," he agreed, "but how are we going to manage it without swimsuits?" I could tell he was having trouble restraining himself. "I don't imagine skinny-dipping is allowed here."
"I guess we could do it like this, with all our clothes on," I suggested.
"You wouldn't mind getting that cute, sexy outfit you're wearing all soaking wet?"
I grinned at Mark. "It's been pretty wet before. Don't you remember?"
"I remember very well. It drove me wild, the way it clung to your gorgeous body. The wetter you got, the more I wanted you."
I waded deeper until the water brushed the bottom of my shorts. "I wonder if the same thing would happen again tonight," I mused, then dipped down for a moment to submerge the legs of my shorts, being careful not to let my crotch get wet yet.
"It already is happening," he replied.
"The clinging or the wanting?"
"Both."
"Then these clothes will be the perfect thing for me to wear for our swim tonight."
Mark stared at me intently. "Your underpants are going to get drenched."
"Of course they will, silly. I've known that was going to happen ever since I left my apartment."
"You don't have any problem with that?" Mark asked.
"Not at all." I nuzzled his neck, then whispered in his ear, "Does it create a 'problem' for you?"
"Oh," he sighed, "you know how excited that makes me."
"Yes, I certainly do know. As a matter of fact, that's exactly what I was thinking about when I decided to leave my swimsuit at home." I backed up, letting the hem of my shorts drop into the water again. "I know what you like."
"This is the point of no return, Jazz. You got away from me last time, but if you soak your panties tonight I'm not letting you off this beach without getting satisfaction."
"You sound committed to that," I said. He nodded firmly and waded out to me. "I like a man who keeps his commitments," I told him.
"Get wet for me," he demanded. "Get wet now."
I splashed a little water onto my legs. "Like this?" Then I scooped up a handful of water and poured it into the front of my shorts. "And like this?" Mark nodded, his eyes glued to me. "And maybe like this?" I lowered myself slowly into the sea until the water reached my waist, then started swishing my hips around.
Mark suddenly grabbed me and lifted me out of the water, one hand squeezing my sopping buttocks and the other entwined in my hair. "I want you," he hissed, and kissed me, hard.
"I like it when you want me," I replied, and kissed him back just as hard.
"I'm already so hot for you," he panted, "and you're still half-dry. Let me do the rest." Then he splashed me and poured water down my blouse, letting it run into my bra.
When he seemed done, I dove completely under and swam as far out as I could on one breath before I surfaced. When Mark saw where I was he jumped in as well, and he was so frantic to reach me that at first he didn't see me swimming around to one side and back toward shore. When he finally noticed he turned around and caught up with me as I reached knee-deep water again. My whole outfit was now soaked, and standing in the shallow water he could see it all. The dark blue had turned almost black, and both my blouse and shorts shimmered in the moonlight.
"Even in the dark, I can see the outlines of your underwear," said Mark. I smoothed out my clinging, dripping clothes to make the shape of my bra and panties even more prominent. "It's driving me crazy," he growled.
"That's quite apparent," I replied. "What I want to know is: What are you going to do about it?"
Mark pulled me to him and started undoing buttons, and soon bits of deep blue were folding back to reveal translucent white lingerie underneath. Mark started taking his own clothes off, too, and we ran back to the trees and fell onto our blanket.
When he finished undressing himself he returned to working on me. I decided it was late enough that there was little risk of anyone coming by, so I let him remove as much of my clothing as he wanted to. He removed it all, and we lay naked on the blanket. "Jazz, how long have you had this planned?" he asked me breathlessly.
"Since the last time we were here," I replied, reaching into my bag. Of course I'd intended to go swimming with him from the beginning, and since that ruled out a diaphragm I'd come prepared with a condom instead. As I put it on Mark, I asked him, "How long have you been thinking about doing this?"
"Since our first walk on the beach!" he cried, and took his second plunge of the night. Mark got his satisfaction, but as always he made sure that my efforts to please him were richly rewarded as well. It was almost dawn when we finally slipped off the beach, exhausted and happy.
On the evening of Mark's second day at my place, he invited me out to dinner and then to the symphony. I usually prefer to go fairly casual, but as this occasion called for something a bit more formal, I dressed up in a nice navy blue business suit. The long-sleeved white blouse I chose to go with it was just a little on the thin side, so I was careful to pick out a lacy white bra that would look good if it showed through. I also wore white panties and a black half-slip, and I even went whole-hog and put on a pair of black nylons. The suit's short navy blue skirt came to just above my knees, and the matching navy jacket, black shoes, and small gold earrings completed my outfit.
Mark also dressed up a bit, in nice slacks, a dress shirt with a tie, and a sports coat. We went to a very classy restaurant with a buffet so delicious one could easily overeat, and I remarked that we really had to exercise self-restraint. "Better now than later," Mark replied with a wink. I slipped off one shoe and rubbed his leg under the table with my foot, and the not-very-subtle smiles that we exchanged told us both that, regardless of what the music was like, this would not be a dull evening. In fact the concert afterwards, by a famous symphony orchestra from out of town, turned out to be quite good, and we both enjoyed it immensely.
After the concert we finally returned to my apartment. It had been hot all day and still was, both indoors and out, so we got a couple of cool drinks from the refrigerator. Mark was feeling pretty affectionate, and he clearly wanted to start necking and petting as soon as our glasses were empty. I did too, but not in the kitchen. "Mark," I told him, "it's wonderful to be close to you, and it's heavenly to feel your touch, but it's a clear night tonight."
He stopped for a moment, waiting for me to explain. "And?"
"And the moon is out."
"Ah, yes," he realized, rolling his eyes, "that means there must be moonlight."
"Moonlight is so romantic," I continued, sliding my hands across his chest, "and I'm feeling very romantic."
"Then moonlight you shall have," he said, taking my hand and leading me outside. My apartment complex is a pretty quiet place, especially late in the evening, and we had the whole patio area to ourselves. The only lights still on were the underwater lights in the pool, so it was easy to find some secluded shadows, and I didn't have to wait long for our petting to resume. For some time neither of us spoke, but then Mark stopped and looked at me very earnestly. "You know, Jazz, you've proven me very wrong about something," he said.
"What's that?" I asked, curious.
There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of water lapping gently against the side of the pool as it was ruffled by an occasional soft breeze. I waited patiently until Mark was ready to speak again, studying his face as the moonlight reflecting off the water flickered across it. "I didn't think I'd ever fall in love again." Then he took a deep breath and continued, "But I have. I love you, Jazz."
"Oh, Mark," I said, melting into his arms, "I've fallen in love with you, too, and I didn't think I'd ever feel this way again, either." We kissed softly, then just stood there for a long time, my head resting on his shoulder and his arms holding me close. "I'm so lucky to have you," I told him.
"I'm the lucky one," he insisted. "And now that I've found you, I'm not going to let you go. And I want you to know," he said very seriously, "this isn't just physical. Even if it weren't for the great sex, I'd still love you just as much."
"I feel the same way." I kissed him again, then added, "But don't worry. Titillating your hormones helped me to catch you, and I have at least three good reasons not to stop now."
"I'm glad to hear that," he chuckled, "and I'd love to hear your reasons."
"First, now that I've caught you I want to make sure I keep you. I'm well aware that there are other women in the world, and I want to stay your number one."
"Logical," he opined.
"Second, I love you and I want to make you happy."
"I like that one," he said with a smile. "And third?"
"Third," I whispered in his ear, "I have hormones, too." I let my hands slide down to his buttocks.
Mark feigned astonishment. "You randy little wench!"
"Yes, I suppose I am," I admitted, and started sensuously stroking his backside. "And I'm feeling especially randy tonight."
"You make me so hot for you when you do that," he growled, and there was nothing feigned about that sentiment.
"I know," I told him, pressing my hips against his, "that's why I'm doing it."
He responded by moving his hands to the back of my skirt. "If you get me any hotter I may not be able to control myself."
"Are you going to need a cold shower to cool down?" I asked him playfully.
"Be careful, woman," he warned. "You've suggested that before on the phone, and I've already given you my answer."
"Give it to me again."
"I told you I think you're the one who should get a shower. Perhaps you'd forgotten that."
I ran my hands slowly up his back, under his sports coat. "Or perhaps I hadn't. I believe I asked for something long and hot. Do you still think I should get that?"
"Keep tempting me, and you'll find out soon enough."
"Tempting? You mean like this?" I asked, kissing him tenderly on his neck, then nibbling on his ear. "And like this?" I continued, then slowly ran my tongue lightly over his lips.
"Oh, yes, exactly like that," he sighed. "One more of those kisses and you're going right into the shower with me."
"Just one more kiss would do it?" I whispered, blowing into his other ear. He nodded. "Is that a promise?"
"Absolutely."
"That sounds like fun. Are you going to undress me first?" I cooed coyly, knowing full well what his answer would be.
"Absolutely not. It's too soon to get naked."
"But I'll get all wet," I pointed out.
"Yes, you will. You'll get very, very wet."
I ran my fingers lightly and sensuously over the nape of his neck. "Then I could put on a bathing suit after I kiss you," I suggested, pretending to be helpful.
"You won't have to. You'll make me so impatient, whatever you're wearing when you kiss me is going to *be* your bathing suit, and that's what you'll be wearing into the shower."
"Really?" I could tell this banter was making Mark hotter than ever, so I kept it up and tried to sound innocent. "Even if I'm still all dressed up from the concert?"
"I told you you'll make me impatient," he repeated. "If there's something else you'd rather get wet in, you'd better put it on before the kiss, because I'll be insane with lust afterwards."
"You wouldn't even let me take off my nice navy suit?" I persisted.
"If you're wearing it when you kiss me, then it becomes part of your bathing suit," he asserted with conviction, "right down to your stockings and earrings. That's a promise, too."
"Then I'd better be careful until I get a chance to change," I giggled.
"This *is* your chance," he said. "Are you going to go change?"
"Not right now," I teased, nuzzling into the side of his neck. "Maybe later." For a moment I just relaxed and enjoyed feeling his strong arms holding me tight. Then he started kissing me, and I slowly rotated my head so he could kiss all sides of it.
"Kiss me back," he murmured.
"Like this, and end up in the shower in all my clothes? Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, Jazz, you know I would, so please don't keep me hanging any longer. Either change or kiss me, but do it now."
"You know what I like, too, Mark. If I give you what you want, are you going to make it worth my while?"
"Of course I will," he replied, with more than a hint of desperation. "You know I will, I'm yours, I'll do anything you want, just kiss me one more time. I've got to have you, but you have to let me know you're ready."
"Then maybe I will. I'm getting pretty hot for you, too, and jumping in the shower with you is sounding better and better all the time."
"And you look so nice in that sharp-looking suit you're wearing," Mark panted. "If you want, you could just leave that on and kiss me right now."
"Well, normally I wouldn't, but you did say you'd make it worth my while." I kept him in suspense for just a moment longer, pressing my body close to his. "I guess sometimes a girl just has to make a choice." Then I deliberately kissed him on both his ears, both his cheeks, and finally ran my tongue slowly over his lips.
"Oh, Jazz, don't get me this worked up and then disappoint me," he pleaded, and there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. "Tell me that outfit you're wearing is really a bathing suit."
"It is now." I kissed him again, long and deep. "Right down to the stockings and earrings, lover, and I'm wearing it all especially for you."
Mark moaned in anticipation and drew me closer. "You won't ever have to worry about other women," he told me. "You're the best; just having foreplay with you gets me more excited than anything I've ever had with anyone else." The truth was that for my own part, I was so aroused I didn't need any more foreplay, but I knew that patience now would be rewarded later.
He held me tight for a moment, then took my hand and started leading me back toward my apartment. As we passed near the pool I slipped away and knelt by the edge. "The weather has been so hot all day," I remarked, scooping up a handful of water and splashing it on my face. Then I looked up at Mark. "Could I stop and stick my feet in?"
"You and I have an appointment, woman."
"But it will only take a minute, and the water is so nice and cool." I stood up, put my arms back around him, and looked into his eyes. "I'll tell you what: If you let me stick my feet in, I'll make you glad you did." Then I whispered in his ear, "I promise."
"You know I can't resist you," he sighed. "All right, go ahead."
I walked over to the stairs that led down into the pool, but instead of stopping to take off my shoes and nylons, I stepped directly into the pool. The water wasn't cold anymore, just pleasantly cool, and it felt good as it filled my shoes.
Mark looked surprised. "You're driving me crazy," he stated, walking over to the stairs.
"This feels so nice, I could just jump right in," I taunted, taking another step deeper and letting the water rise almost to my knees. "Maybe I should. Since I'm already headed for the shower in these anyway," I continued, straightening my jacket and gratuitously adjusting my blouse and skirt, "I suppose it couldn't do much harm to wear them for a little swim first." I paused to let Mark consider that, then added, "But there is one small problem."
"What's that?" he asked breathlessly.
"I was taught never to swim alone."
Mark immediately stepped into the pool and walked right past me, continuing down the steps until his slacks were submerged to his waist. "I never thought you'd be willing to get wet in such nice clothes," he said, "but I'm really glad you are." He still had his sports coat and tie on, and he hadn't taken off his shoes, either.
"You seem willing enough to get yours wet," I pointed out, and moved down the stairs until the hem of my skirt brushed the surface, its color deepening as it drew moisture into itself. Mark reached out for me, but I backed away and beckoned him to follow me up out of the water. My shoes squished as I stepped back onto the patio, my wet stockings glistened, and water dripped gently from the dark, moist band at the bottom of my skirt.
"What's wrong?" he asked with concern.
"Nothing," I smiled, "but how about a little romance to go with this moonlight, Romeo? Carry a lady into the pool?"
"My pleasure," he replied enthusiastically. Placing one arm behind my back and the other in back of my knees, he picked me up and carried me down the steps until my butt was just above the water. Then he stopped, and I looked at him questioningly. "What color are your underpants?" he whispered.
"White. They're pretty, lacy, white silk. Why?"
"This is where they get wet," he replied. "Ready?"
"They're already getting wet," I whispered back. "They have been for some time, but you can finish the job - and I've got a half-slip on that needs to get wet, too." With that he descended the rest of the steps, lowering me gradually into the pool, and the cool water soaked slowly through the heavy fabric of my skirt to moisten my underwear. Then the back hem dropped below the surface, and I gasped as the resulting cascade suddenly surged down into my slip, slapped against my panties, and instantly saturated them. "Oooh, you're really making me wet now," I told Mark.
"Does it feel good?" he asked, smiling.
"It always does," I replied. He lowered me a bit more, and the water reached my waist. As the cool liquid lapped against the bottom of my thin white blouse, claiming it for its own, the material became almost transparent, and the navy blue of my skirt deepened dramatically as small waves washed softly up onto the last dry spots and disappeared into the fabric, leaving behind a glistening shine as evidence of their passage.
"You left your jacket on," Mark observed, grinning, "and now it's too late to take it off. The bottom of it is already wet." He was right. I had left it unbuttoned so it would hang to the sides, leaving my blouse exposed, and part of it was already floating on the surface.
"Why would I want to take it off?" I asked. "It's right where it belongs. I was wearing it when I kissed you, so now it's part of my bathing suit, just like my shoes." I stroked his face and added, "I don't usually go to the trouble of wearing a bathing suit unless I expect to get wet in it, you know, and I'm certainly not in the habit of removing parts of it before I do." I licked my fingers and touched them seductively to his lips. "Would you like to see the rest of this one get drenched?" He nodded. "Then carry me deeper." He moved smoothly toward the deep end until the water was just below my breasts. "This is exactly what I needed on such a hot night," I told Mark, "but don't stop here. Some of my underwear isn't soaked yet, and that will never do." He lowered me another few inches, letting the cool water saturate the remainder of my blouse. As it did my now-sopping white bra become plainly visible through the translucent white fabric, punctuated by the contours of my two firm nipples. "That's better," I said. "It would have been a shame to wear such a special bathing suit for you and not get all of it wet."
"Not quite all of it," he corrected. "You earrings are included, too, and the water hasn't touched them."
"Then you'll have to dunk me completely. Go ahead, get me all wet, even my hair." I took a deep breath, and he gently dipped us both under for just long enough to ensure that absolutely nothing remained dry.
"I want you," he demanded, as we surfaced.
"The feeling is mutual," I concurred, "but my excuse for being here is that I wanted to swim. I should do at least one lap." I slipped away and swam underwater toward the deep end, surfacing when I reached the wall. Mark appeared transfixed and didn't move at all. Then I swam a full length of the pool in a crawl, and although my shoes weren't much of a problem, my jacket slowed me down noticeably and I was glad I didn't have to swim very far. Finally I turned onto my back and glided lazily back to Mark, deliberately leaving the jacket open to make the view more enticing. When I stood up next to him, Mark silently took my hand and guided me back to the steps and up out of the pool.
As my feet returned to the patio, I pushed my wet hair back out of my face and looked down, and saw that water was just pouring off of me. My navy blue jacket and skirt were now almost black, but they were glistening in the moonlight, and the sodden jacket was heavy with water still trapped in the lining. My blouse clung so tightly to me that it emphasized my bra instead of hiding it, and as fast as the water ran out of my shoes it was replaced with more draining from my suit and running down my black stockings.
Standing in the middle of a large and growing puddle, I arranged myself as neatly as I could. "I've certainly never worn a bathing suit quite like this one before," I said.
"I've certainly never seen one quite like that before, but I'm sure glad I got to see it tonight."
"Let's get back inside before anyone else sees it," I urged.
"Shouldn't we wait here awhile?" asked Mark. "If we go in now, we'll drip all over your apartment." With his drenched sports coat and slacks, he was just as waterlogged as I was, but his true intentions were as transparent as my blouse: he just wanted to keep looking at me.
"Not if we jump right into the shower," I replied, and that was all the convincing that he needed. We ran back inside, squishing our way directly to the bathroom, got a nice hot shower running, and both stepped in.
Mark seemed to be losing control and started groping me, but before he could really get going I handed him a bottle of soap. "You've already made me hot and wet," I said, giving him a long, deep, kiss. "Now make me slippery."
He stopped abruptly, and stared dumbly at the container. "This won't hurt your suit?"
Given the circumstances, I was somewhat surprised by the question, but I was so touched that it would actually matter to him that I gave him another little kiss. "It's a bathing suit, remember?" I laughed, taking back the bottle and removing the dispenser top. "Why would a little soap hurt it? I always wash my bathing suit after swimming in a pool." Then I stepped back out of the shower spray and poured the liquid soap generously over my jacket and onto my skirt and stockings. "And can you think of a better way to wash it? Lather me up, big boy, and don't miss any spots."
Mark started rubbing me, tentatively at first, but soon he was working up the suds with gusto and had me coated from head to toe. He poured out some more soap and did my blouse as well, even in back under the jacket. When I unbuttoned the top of my blouse, he took the hint immediately and poured additional soap inside my bra, then gave me a good massage to distribute it thoroughly. He stood back to admire his handiwork, but I told him, "You missed my slip. It's under my skirt." Then I pulled the front of my skirt open and poured a generous amount of soap inside my panties. "Be sure to spread that around while you're under there," I told him. He grabbed the bottle and feverishly continued in his labors, even finding some shampoo and slathering it into my hair, until I was totally covered and everything I had on was completely soapy inside and out.
"Is that slippery enough?" he asked.
"Yes, this is perfect," I told him. "You've got me good and slippery." I stood there, letting him watch me, and ran my hands through the lather covering my soggy suit, my blouse, and my legs. "Now how about some help rinsing off?" I stepped under the shower spray, and he used his hands to work all the soap out. In many places he lingered rather longer than necessary, and I did nothing to hurry him along.
"You're so wild, Jazz," he exclaimed when we finished. "I just love it when you're like this."
"I've always had a wild side. I just needed the right man to coax it out into the open. Speaking of which ..." I let my hands slide down to his waist.
"Jazz, I'm about to lose control. I need to go get some protection."
"No, you don't." I slowly dropped to my knees, released all the fasteners on his slacks, and did a little coaxing of my own. Mark began panting, and when he felt the first touch of my tongue his whole body became as rigid as the part on which I was concentrating. I made him last as long as I could, but within a couple minutes the room echoed with his moans as urgency overwhelmed the last vestiges of his restraint.
He soon dropped down next me, too spent to remain standing. First I helped him out of his wet things, stripping him down to his sopping white boxers, and then when he'd recovered a bit of energy he slowly peeled off pieces of my clothing. Soon I was down to my white panties and bra. "I don't think these were designed to be worn wet," I commented. Clinging tightly to me, they were both rather revealing, yet concealed just enough to still be tantalizing. "They're not very modest like this."
"If I'd designed them," he responded, "they'd come with a tag saying 'wash while wearing.' As far as I'm concerned, you can leave your underwear on every time you shower."
"If you're here to remind me, maybe I will," I told him. "But right now, let's get dried off and adjourn to the bedroom. You still have work to do." We finished undressing, toweled each other briskly, and were soon lying in my bed.
"You're simply awesome, Jazz," Mark told me. "I know you like to please me, but I still don't quite believe you wore that nice expensive suit into the pool and shower for me. No other woman I've ever known would even have considered it, but you seemed positively enthusiastic."
"Look at it this way," I told him. "You paid for dinner and the concert tickets, so even if the suit is ruined it's just my contribution to a wonderful evening. Besides," I added with a wink, "it didn't cost that much. I bought it second-hand." I ran my fingers through his hair. "And I bought it with you in mind."
"You did?" He appeared truly surprised.
"I wanted a good-looking outfit that I could dress up in, but one that I wouldn't have to worry about if I felt like getting uninhibited. That suit seemed to fit the bill, and I wore it tonight in case any interesting opportunity happened to present itself."
"That opportunity didn't present itself, Jazz. You created it."
"You didn't exactly resist," I smiled, "and having gone out of my way to wear something special for you, I wasn't about to let my efforts go to waste." I snuggled up close to Mark. "But enough about that; I want my reward now. Let's see if you're as good in bed as you've been promising you were going to be."
He was better.
Later that summer Mark called me one day to say that a big project at work was winding up, and to invite me to spend a weekend at his place to help him celebrate. He even insisted on paying for the air fare, so of course I agreed. When I booked the trip at mid-week, it turned out that I could save him a lot of money by getting tickets for Friday morning instead of Friday evening, so I did. The only problem was that Mark had an important wrap-up meeting with the client that he couldn't miss, so he wouldn't be able to pick me up at the airport. Instead he sent me a key to his house by overnight express, along with directions on how to get there, and said he'd see me there as soon as he could get away.
The flight on Friday was uneventful, and I took a cab from the airport and arrived at his place around noon. I let myself in, unpacked, changed into comfortable cutoffs and a white T-shirt, and then checked out the house. It was modest but nice, with a little patio in back, plus a small backyard completely surrounded by a high privacy-fence. It was a bright, sunny day, so I fixed myself a sandwich and a lemonade and went outside to finish the book I'd started on the plane. Then, as I sat on the patio reading, I noticed a garden hose lying on the lawn. That gave me an idea, so I got up and started poking around in Mark's garage. I found a couple more sections of hose there, so I dragged them out, uncoiled them, and made one long length by hooking them onto the one that was already attached to the outdoor tap. Then I propped the business end up against a nearby trellis attached to the back of the house, and turned the water on very slowly until it bubbled out the end. Turning off the faucet and returning to my reading, I knew that with the hose spread all over the lawn, the sun would soon heat the considerable amount of water trapped inside.
It was hard to concentrate on the book after that, because images of what might happen later kept intruding. My wandering thoughts were turning me on, and my free hand kept finding its way to special places to gently massage them. When the bell rang around 16:00 announcing Mark's arrival, I was more than ready for him. I ran to the door and gave him a big kiss as he entered. "You're early," I said.
"The meeting went so smoothly, the client signed off and the boss sent us all home," he explained, taking off his jacket. Then he took me in his arms and looked deep into my eyes. "I'm so happy to see you again."
"And I'm so happy to see you," I replied, returning the embrace and kissing him again.
"I have a surprise for you," Mark said. "I'm going to take you out to a nice dinner tonight, and I was going to save the surprise for after dinner, but I can't wait. I want to tell you now."
"I love surprises," I said eagerly. "Where is it?"
"It's not that kind of surprise," he said. "It's something better." I waited for him to explain, and he looked at me very seriously. "You know how much you mean to me, and that I have no interest in other women any more." I nodded. "You know I fall more in love with you every time I see you."
I smiled and kissed his hand. "That's good, because I haven't been interested in other men since we met, and I keep falling more in love with you, too."
"Well," he continued, "the company decided to increase staffing in the Florida office." My heart skipped a beat. "They need a person with my skills." He took a deep breath. "So I volunteered, and today they told me I can move down there as soon as I want to. I'll be working about 20 minutes from where you live."
I threw myself at him and pressed hard against him. "That's wonderful, Mark!" I exclaimed. "That's the best surprise you could ever have given me. You're such an important part of my life, and I want you to be an even bigger part of it. You've made me so happy."
For the next few minutes, we just hugged and cuddled and kissed. Finally Mark said, "If you're hungry, maybe we should get ready for that fancy dinner. I'm counting on you to help me spend the bonus I earned today."
"Before we do that, I have a surprise for you," I told him. Taking his hand, I pulled him across the house. "We have to go outside for this one," I said, and led him outdoors. There were a couple of old chairs on the patio, and I indicated that he should sit down in the one that had arms. Then I pulled my big blue scarf out of my back pocket and showed it to him. "Remember this?" I asked. He grinned. "It's for you this time." I wrapped it around his head and tied it securely. "Now you have to promise to sit here, and don't take your hands off the arms of the chair. I'll be back shortly."
"Ok," he replied. "I'll wait right here."
I scurried back into the house, stripped down to my white cotton underwear, and quickly put on the special outfit I had brought along especially for Mark: my red cheerleader uniform, white socks, and white sneakers. But first I inserted my diaphragm, expecting that I might be needing it in the very near future. Then I ran back to the patio and walked up behind Mark. "This surprise comes in parts," I said. "Here's part one."
I began stroking his hair and massaging his neck, and he relaxed and let his head loll back. "That feels nice," he said, as I loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top couple buttons on his shirt. I began planting little kisses on him, first on his forehead, then working down the side of his face, under his chin, and finally on his lips. "I like your surprise so far," he said. "When does part two start?"
"In just a minute," I replied, "and I'm sure you'll be surprised, so just remember to keep your hands glued to that chair. If you get up it will spoil it." I walked over to the faucet and turned it barely on so that water ran out of the hose very slowly and gently. I retrieved the end of the hose from where I had propped it up and checked the temperature. It was just right: hot, but not uncomfortably so. I tried to let the gentle flow of water run quietly down the outside of the hose, but since Mark might hear the water dribbling onto the patio anyway, I walked quickly back to him before he could figure out what I was doing. Then I immediately aimed the water so it would land on the back of his neck and run down inside his shirt.
"Aaaaaiiiiiii!" he shouted, starting to get up. "You're getting me all wet!"
"Don't bother complaining," I interrupted, pushing him firmly back into the chair. "You've made it quite clear what turns you on, so I know you're going to love this. Just relax and enjoy it." I moved the hose to soak his long sleeves, then dribbled warm water over his head. Finally I positioned the stream on the front of his neck, and held it there while the water ran down the front of his shirt and into his slacks.
"You're making me horny, woman."
"I know. That's the whole idea." I wet down his legs until the water was running into his shoes, then went back and drenched a few spots I'd missed on the first pass.
"I can't imagine what you have in mind for part three."
"You won't have to imagine it," I assured him. "This is where we take the blindfold off -- but remember to stay sitting and keep those hands right where they are." I moved behind him and untied the scarf, then walked back in front where he could see me. His eyes got big when he saw what I was wearing, and the muscles in his hands flexed.
"You seriously expect me to just sit here and watch you when you're dressed like that?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes, Mark, I do. It will be more fun that way. I know you have a lot of self-discipline, and you're just going to have to exercise it." I walked over to the other chair, which had a solid sculpted plastic seat and no arms. "And I've been meaning to talk to you about this lawn furniture."
"What??"
"Your lawn furniture. This chair, for example, is no good outdoors. Do you know why?" Poor Mark looked completely befuddled by my sudden change of subject, and he hadn't the faintest idea what I was talking about. "Because," I explained, "it has no drainage holes. When it rains the water can't run off, so it all puddles in the seat, like this." I laid the hose on the chair to demonstrate, and waited for the maximum inch or so of water to accumulate. "Then when you sit down, your butt gets soaked." I backed up to the chair and sat in it, lowering myself very carefully to let my clothing absorb as much of the hot water as possible. The hose was still running slowly, and as I was now sitting right on the end of it, the continuing flow of water ensured that no part of my backside escaped a thorough wetting. After a moment I stood up again and turned my back to Mark, showing him the dripping back of my red skirt.
"I see what you mean," he said.
Lifting the skirt with one hand to reveal what had happened underneath, I added, "The water seeped right through into my underpants." I emphasized the point by rubbing my other hand slowly across my red cheerleader panties, the back of which was now sopping and stuck to my buns. "It's even running all the way down into my socks and sneakers. A few seconds in that chair, and now I'm going to be damp all afternoon."
Mark had begun to squirm. "That only seems fair," he said, "after what you did to me." The fire burning in his eyes as he looked at me made me feel very sexy, and I was glad I'd found such a simple way to give him as much pleasure as he gave me.
"I suppose you're right," I agreed, dropping my skirt back down and facing Mark again, "and I don't really mind. It's so sunny and hot today, it actually feels rather nice to be a little damp." I took the hose in my hand and sat back down in the puddle that had re-formed on my seat.
"But you're still not nearly as wet as you got me. If you want to be truly fair," suggested Mark, "I think you should hose yourself down completely."
"You really think so?" I asked. Mark nodded firmly. "The water's so warm, it does sound tempting," I said. "It's too bad I'm not dressed for that."
I sat smiling at him while I idly ran the hose over my legs and let my footwear get all soggy. "You know, the more I think about it, the more tempted I am. Maybe I'd better go put on the bathing suit I packed before I get carried away," I teased. "Then I can get as wet as I want to. That is what I brought it for."
"It looks to me like everything but your bra is already going to have to be hung up to dry anyway," Mark pointed out, "so I don't see what point there would be in changing now." I stood up again and ran a hand over my dripping butt, then looked down at the puddle surrounding my sneakers and made a big show of looking thoughtful. "Go for it," he demanded, "just like that, in what you have on."
"I don't know," I protested. "My high school coach would have gotten furious if she'd caught me playing in the water when I was wearing an official school uniform." I paused, then looked at Mark. "Would you get mad?"
He grunted incoherently and nodded his head vigorously in the negative.
"I really do want to get a lot wetter," I told him, moving over to him and letting the stream from the hose run onto his chest. Then I bent over and whispered in his ear, "Are you sure it would be ok to leave all these clothes on while I do?"
He nodded even more vigorously in the affirmative.
"All right then," I continued, "I guess I don't really need a bathing suit after all. This nice red dress that you like so much will have to do instead, and I'll even keep all my underwear on, so I'll be wearing exactly what I did as a cheerleader. Now if you stay in that chair like a good boy and keep your hands to yourself, there's no telling how wet things might get."
Standing up and turning away from Mark again, I leaned backwards slightly and held the hose above me until my hair was drenched. I let the overflow run down my back, until I could feel that the whole back of the uniform was soaked and could hear the water running off the bottom of the skirt. Then I faced Mark once more and sat back down in my chair. "This does feel nice," I said, and started to gently squirt myself in the face. Once the water running down my chest began to noticeably darken the fabric there as it was absorbed, I ran the stream from the hose right inside the dress to drench my bra, then after a moment directed it onto my breasts from the outside, massaging the water in with my other hand.
"It looks like my bra will have to be hung up to dry after all," I said, winking at Mark.
"Your clothesline is going to be an interesting sight."
Next to be wetted was the bottom of the dress resting in my lap, and when that was done I lifted the skirt, raised the hose, and let the stream splash noisily onto the front of my red cheerleader panties until they were completely saturated. Finally, I stuck the hose right inside them and let the warm water flood directly against my underpants.
At last the water began to cool off, and I tossed the hose aside, but by that time I was completely soaked, and so was every stitch of my clothing. I stood up, dripping, in front of Mark, my whole outfit a brilliant glistening red. "No man could resist what you're doing to me," he declared, starting to stand up. "I can't hang on here any longer, Jazz."
"You won't have to," I smiled. "It's time for part four. Move over to the chair I was in, the one with no arms, and park yourself down in that puddle." As he reluctantly did so, I reached up under my skirt to pull down and slip off both the red uniform panties and the white underpants I had on under them. "Can you believe how wet these got?" I asked him facetiously, and wrung them gently, letting the water I was squeezing out fall right into his lap. There was a noticeable stirring where it landed on his pants and soaked in. "It looks like a good friend of yours wants to go places and do things," I said, brushing the damp panties across his face before dropping them onto the patio. "I think I should let him out so he can."
After lightly stroking the growing evidence of Mark's excitement a couple times, I struck a pose imitating the Statue of Liberty, and in the straightest face I could muster said, "Give me your huddled mass, yearning to be free." I giggled, but he just moaned, so I finally peeled his zipper open and guided him out into the daylight. He was very, very aroused. "You're going to like part four," I whispered, climbing into his lap and shifting position until I could feel him making himself comfortable under my wet dress. "And so am I."
Mark wasted no time packing up his belongings and transferring to his new office. He wanted to buy a house but planned to wait until he found one that he (and I) would really like, so when he first arrived he rented an apartment a few miles from mine. He had barely settled in when I called him up on the phone. "I want to invite you out to dinner Friday night," I told him, "to celebrate your arrival. It will be my treat, and I'll even choose the restaurant."
"That sounds great. I accept. Do you have anywhere specific in mind?"
"Yes," I laughed, "and I'm really glad you accepted because I've already made the reservations. It's a place someone at work told me about, and I think we'll like it. Apparently it's not very formal, but we could dress up a little bit if you like. I'm going to wear my navy suit."
"Your navy suit?" he asked. His voice sounded puzzled, and he obviously didn't comprehend which suit I was referring to.
"Yes, you know, the one you liked so much the other night." Silence. "You must remember. The one I wore to the concert?"
"That navy suit?" he exclaimed. "Yes, of course I remember. How could I forget, after that great little romp we had with you still in it. It must have been ruined afterwards, though. You didn't throw it away?"
"No, not at all," I assured him. "It wouldn't be my first choice for a job interview, but I sent it to the cleaners and it came back looking fine."
"That's a pleasant surprise" he replied. "I'll look forward to seeing you in it again. My suit survived, too, so I'll wear the same thing I wore that night and we'll match."
We agreed on the time, and on Friday evening he came over to pick me up. "I'm glad that suit is still wearable," he told me, standing back to admire the view. "It's so classy, and seeing you in it again brings back memories." He smiled at me conspiratorially. "Very nice memories."
"For both of us," I said, giving him a little kiss.
"You're even wearing the same earrings," he said, circling his fingertips lightly over my ears. "Deliberately, no doubt, for the express purpose of driving me to distraction. I'm not going to be able to take my eyes off you tonight."
"I was hoping that might happen when I got dressed."
Mark suddenly pulled me against him, brusquely, and kissed me hard. "I'm not going to be able to keep my hands off you, either."
I slipped my arms around him and looked into his eyes. "I was hoping that might happen, too. I'll have to wear this outfit more often."
"You won't get any complaints from me," murmured Mark, nuzzling into my neck. Since we didn't want to miss our dinner reservation, we left my apartment before things went any further and Mark drove us to the restaurant. We were shown to our seats at a table that had a fairly good view of the entire dining room.
"Nice decor," said Mark. "They even have a little waterfall."
"Where?" I asked, looking around.
"Right over there, in the corner near the back."
"Very tastefully done," I observed, "and romantic, too. I like the little pool at its base, and the way it's partially hidden by the plants around it." I squinted for a better view. "That's odd, though, it looks like there's a couple sitting on the edge. They must let people stick their feet in it."
Mark took a long look, peering intensely through the foliage that partially screened our view. "More than their feet, if that bubbling is any indication," he finally said. "Look how much skin is showing on those two folks. I'd say it's a hot tub." He turned and asked suspiciously, "did you know that was here?"
"Well, I've never actually been here, but I think I've heard some vague rumors about it."
"I'll bet you have, and I'll bet you researched all the details ahead of time, too." He squeezed my hand. "You know we're going to have to try it out."
"That would be fun," I agreed. "Now that we know it's here, we'll need to come back prepared sometime."
"Prepared?" Mark sounded offended.
"You know, with bathing suits that we can change into."
He chuckled. "You look prepared to me right now."
"How do you figure that?" I asked innocently. "I didn't bring anything to change into; all I have with me is what I'm wearing."
"My point exactly. No doubt through your devious planning, that entire outfit you're wearing just happens to be a perfectly lovely bathing suit. One of my favorites, in fact -- you look really sharp in it."
"A bathing suit?" I teased. "Mark, I realize that styles change every year, but I've been in a lot of clothing stores and I've never seen anything even remotely like this on any bathing suit rack. This looks much more like a business suit to me."
"As well it should, since that's precisely what it used to be -- but not any more. You and I had a certain conversation in which we both decided that, despite all appearances to the contrary, it was henceforth actually a bathing suit. You even stated quite clearly that all your accessories were included, 'right down to the stockings and earrings,' remember?"
"Oh, that conversation. Now that you mention it, I suppose we did agree to something like that."
"Suppose nothing," growled Mark, "you knew quite well what you were putting on when you got dressed tonight, and you were careful to pick out exactly the items that make up that bathing suit. I wouldn't be surprised if you're even wearing the same underwear."
"I am," I giggled.
"Then that's settled," he said with satisfaction. "My compliments on your foresight in choosing to wear something that will serve so admirably as dinner apparel, and that you can then so conveniently swim in afterwards without any need to change at all."
"We'll see about the swimming part," I hedged. "Let's eat dinner first, and then we can discuss it more."
While we ate our meal, including a nice dessert, we spoke no more of the hot tub. But as soon as the bill had been paid, Mark announced, "It's time."
"Time for what?" I asked.
"Time to go check out that hot tub."
"Um, Mark, I think I should have brought a bathing suit."
"We went through all that before dinner; you're already wearing a bathing suit."
"No, I mean a regular one. I don't think I can go in like this."
"Why not?" He seemed more mystified than angry. "You were willing enough to get your jacket and skirt wet after the concert, and this time we even know the water won't hurt them, at least not very much."
"I'm not worried about the suit. That's not it."
"Well?"
"We were alone after the concert, but this is different. There's all these people watching, and I'm afraid I'd be too embarrassed to deliberately swim in my clothes in front of all of them," I admitted. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tease you, I just didn't realize I'd get self-conscious like this. I wish I could, but I just don't have the nerve to do it."
"It's ok," he reassured me graciously. "I understand, and I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with." I relaxed, and he grinned at me. "On the other hand, I don't give up easily, and I think I have a solution to your problem. Come on over there with me; just follow my lead and you'll know what to do."
Mark strode purposefully toward the waterfall, and not knowing what else to do, I followed close behind him. I was afraid whatever he had in mind wouldn't work, but at the same time I was afraid that it would and that he'd talk me into doing something crazy where a couple hundred people could see me. That nervousness, the sense of mystery he was creating, and the warm feeling I always got when I knew Mark had the hots for me, combined to make my heart beat a little faster as we reached the edge of the water.
There were two couples there soaking, both wearing conventional trunks and bikinis.
Mark asked them, "How's the water?"
"It's great," replied one of the guys, "come on in."
Mark put his hand in and felt the water. "I wish I'd brought a swimsuit," he said.
I wasn't sure what he was up to, but he looked at me like it was my turn, so I put my hand in as well.
"Oh, me too. This feels wonderful."
Mark looked at me and winked. "Makes you want to climb right in, doesn't it?"
"Yes, it sure does," I sighed, playing along.
"So go ahead," Mark challenged.
"What do you mean?" I said, still not seeing where he was going with this.
"Forget the swimsuit," he continued. "If it feels so wonderful, just jump in. Nobody's stopping you."
"What, like this?" I asked, truly puzzled, since I'd already told him I wouldn't do that.
"Yea, go for it."
I was getting a little annoyed. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'd get my clothes all wet," I told him, exasperated.
Mark looked up at the ceiling. "Excuses, excuses." Then he turned to the folks in the pool and sighed, "Isn't that just like a female? All talk and no action."
The men laughed, but one of the women blurted out, "Oh, honey, you're not going to let him get away with that, are you?"
I was now becoming angry, so at first I just shook my head and glared at Mark. Then, suddenly discerning the plan, I pulled myself together, held my head high, and answered firmly, "No, I am not going to let him get away with that."
Mark looked at me and smiled. "So jump in the pool. I dare you. I double dare you."
I stuck out my tongue at him. "Dares are cheap. You can do better than that."
"OK, let's make it a bet. I'll bet you won't get in the pool."
"What are you willing to stake?" I asked.
"I'll do all your dishes for a week," he offered.
The woman in the pool interrupted. "Don't let him off that easy! Make it two weeks."
"Yes, two weeks of dishes," I agreed, "and two weeks of doing all my laundry and vacuuming."
One of the men cautioned Mark, "Oh, be careful man, for that she might really do it."
"No way," Mark bragged to him. "She's chicken." Then he turned back to me. "You're on."
"And one more thing," I added. "If I go in the water, you have to get in there with me."
"Ok," he consented, with exaggerated confidence, "but then you have to go in just exactly like you are.
You can't take off your shoes or jacket or anything."
The women found our exchange amusing, but the men shook their heads in dismay.
"Then the same goes for you," I insisted, "just like you are: shoes, jacket, even your tie."
"Sure," said Mark, practically swaggering.
I put as much steel into my voice as I could muster. "You've got a bet."
The other fellow in the pool looked worried. "I think you made a big mistake, man."
"Nah," gloated Mark. "Don't worry, she puts on a good show, but she'll never actually do it. She hasn't got the chutzpah."
Slowly and deliberately, I removed any items from my purse that would be damaged by water and laid them on a little table nearby, straightened my navy skirt and thin white blouse, buttoned up my navy jacket neatly, smoothed my hair, adjusted my purse to hang smartly over my shoulder, and looked Mark in the eye.
"I hope you have plenty of clean dishtowels." Then I stepped into the tub, paused to let the water flood into my shoes, and walked a couple of steps down into the water. Stopping just before my skirt got wet, I enthusiastically announced,
"This water really is wonderful, even better than I'd imagined." The women cheered.
"Very impressive," whined Mark, "but it doesn't count if you don't go deep enough to get your clothes wet. The bet is for you to go all the way in." The women booed him.
"Now Mark," I explained patronizingly, "a jacuzzi is supposed to be relaxing. There's no need to rush things. Don't you worry your little head, though," I chided him, to the obvious amusement of the women, "this feels much too good to stop with only my feet in. I intend to take full advantage of this hot tub."
One slow step at a time, I moved a bit deeper, letting the swirling water gradually rise above my hemline. Mark's eyes were glued to my navy skirt as it slowly submerged, and I knew that he was visualizing the hot, bubbling liquid rising inside my skirt, creeping up my legs, and drenching my half-slip. To keep Mark excited, I stopped when the water was poised to deliver its stimulating heat to the inside of my panties, but had not quite reached them.
Now that everyone believed I was honor-bound to do this to prove a point to my snotty boyfriend, it was much easier to relax and have fun. "Oh, this is just the right temperature," I told Mark, and splashed a couple handfuls of water onto my face. Then I scooped up more water, deliberately plunging my hands deep enough to soak the ends of my jacket sleeves, and splashed my face so generously that Mark couldn't miss seeing how much was running down inside my blouse. "I wasn't going to get my hair wet," I announced, when I could feel that the front of my bra was fully bathed in pleasant warmth, "but this water is irresistible." Scooping up double-handfuls, I poured them onto my head, letting them soak my hair, wash over my collar, and splash onto my shoulders.
I paused briefly to look myself over. There were dark wet spots all over my navy jacket, including long streaks down both sleeves where water had escaped my cupped hands, and my navy skirt was half-submerged. The water that had run into my white blouse had soaked it thoroughly, and the excess was seeping through the bottom of the blouse and forming a big wet spot in the front of my skirt.
"At first I was worried about my clothes getting wet," I told Mark cavalierly, "but now I don't care how soaked they all get. I just want to feel this water all over me." Then I took a deep breath and ducked myself completely under the surface. My panties were soaked instantly, but with my jacket buttoned snugly, it took a second or two for the hot flood to force its way underneath the back and saturate the remainder of my blouse and bra.
When I stood up again, the water streamed off my hair and poured out of my jacket. "I think that should count as deep enough," I said to the two women, then walked over to them, my purse bobbing along in tow. Sitting down beside them so that only my shoulders and head were above water, I partially unbuttoned the jacket, but was careful not to let my bra quite show. "I'm so glad you talked me into this, Mark," I called out. "Why don't you join us? The water's great. Just climb right in like that."
The two ladies were obviously relishing this comeuppance, while their men just rolled their eyes and shook their heads. Mark made a big production of being surprised and disgusted with this turn of events, but the glint in his eyes subtly betrayed his true reaction. Then, shrugging his shoulders, he walked straight to the center of the jacuzzi and dunked himself just as I had. When he came up, all the women applauded politely, and he did a great job of acting the part of the good loser.
The water really did feel quite pleasant, and we sat there chatting with the other couples for five or ten minutes. The jets kept the surface of the water churning enough to hide whatever took place beneath, and Mark took advantage of that fact to slide his hand over me and fondle whatever he could reach. In public like that all he could really do was massage my back inside my jacket and stroke the side of my leg, but he plainly wasn't gong to be satisfied with that for very long. When I felt his fingers slipping inside my skirt and checking out my slip I decided that things had gone far enough for that venue, and suggested that it might be time to leave.
"You have dishes to do," I reminded him, "and laundry and vacuuming. We'd better go now." I buttoned my jacket up again, and we both climbed out of the hot tub. Of course buckets of water poured off both of us, but there was an exit door located right next to us, so we were able to make a quick departure before we attracted too many stares.
The instant we were outside Mark grabbed me from behind and reached inside the front of my jacket. Fondling my breasts, he rasped in my ear, "You got your underwear all soaked, didn't you?"
"Yes, it's all hot and dripping wet," I told him. "I can hardly wait for you to see it."
"Neither can I, but I'm going to do more than just look."
"You'd better."
"I want you. I want you now, and I'm going to help you out of all those sexy wet things."
"I'm counting on that, but not yet, not here. We have to get back to my place." I turned to face him and kissed him, and his hands went straight to my butt and began squeezing there.
"You're driving me crazy. I've got to have you."
"I love to be so wanted," I told him gently, "but considering your condition right now, maybe I'd better drive. I don't think you'll be able to concentrate very well on the road." He handed me his keys, and soon I was driving us back to my apartment. Only a couple minutes from the restaurant, though, as we were passing a park, Mark demanded that I stop. I knew what he wanted, and it didn't sound like such a bad idea to me either, so I pulled into the parking area. It being well after dark, the park was completely deserted, and Mark pulled me behind a bush.
"Now," was all he said, unbuttoning both my jacket and blouse, then unzipping my skirt. He didn't bother to actually remove much, but merely loosened everything until he could get what he wanted. It was a warm night, and the animal in me was coming out too, so I helped him. He laid me gently on the soft grass, and from out of nowhere a condom made its appearance -- and then just as quickly disappeared from sight as it served its appointed purpose. The only sound was heavy breathing, and it wasn't all from Mark. I did my best to satisfy him completely, knowing how grateful he would be, and anticipating what a delightful experience I had in store, spending the rest of the night with such a grateful man.