They could not believe the size of the bed—a full eight feet square. They fell back onto it and were impressed with how soft, yet supportive, the mattress was. It was a four-poster with gossamer-like curtains around the edges. On the underside of the canopy were mood lights that could be adjusted for brightness and a full-size magnifying mirror—the largest that either of them had ever seen. They were both anticipating what they were going to see in it when they finally crawled back in here for the night.
They agreed to get moving. They knew they’d probably be here for the entire evening if they started fooling around now. They had nearly a week and intended to take full advantage of this amazing bed.
“Let’s be ready at 8:00,” Alex said. That gave her just over an hour.
“You bet, baby. I’m going to use the soaker tub so the shower is all yours.”
Alex was always quicker getting ready. At a few minutes past 8:00, he was sitting in a plush armchair near the entry door, checking his iPhone. He was feeling pretty sharp in his new threads after he’d managed to get his bow tie properly secured. He’d opted for a tux with a bit of a retrograde look; his butt was hidden behind tails that hung down to his knees. A pure white waistcoat protruded slightly below the bottom edge of his jet-black lapels. The bow tie was white rather than black.
He’d noticed a dress hanging from a coat-hook next to his chair, and wondered what it was doing there. Maybe it had been delivered while they were in the bathroom. He wasn’t good at judging how a dress on a hanger might look on Maggie, but he suspected this one would be spectacular. It was made from a black, shiny lamé, with the occasional strand of silver woven through. When he felt the material with his fingers, it was gossamer thin and as clingy as wet cotton. He’d never seen anything like it and could only imagine how it would look on his wife. He wondered again why it was hanging at the entry door and not in the closet.
Maggie called from the bedroom, “You ready, baby?”
“Yes, I’m at the door.” He was greatly anticipating what she might have chosen to wear. He knew it was going to be sexy and stunning.
Still looking at the dress, Alex noticed her stroll into the room in his peripheral vision. He turned his head to admire her and suddenly felt faint with shock. She had fixed her hair so it hung in thick, honey-blond waves alongside her head, partially covering one side of her face. It looked like she’d just spent several hours in a hair salon. Her face was elegantly made up too, highlighting her beauty—she was truly gorgeous. But what stunned him to his core; all she was wearing were black high-heeled stilettos, causing the muscles of her bare calves, thighs, and buttocks to nicely stand out. She had the legs of a Radio City Rockette. She had even put a little rouge on her areola and nipples, which stood out like puckered little raspberries. Her privates were shiny pink and utterly bare.
Maggie was delighted with his response and walked directly to the dress hanging from the closet door. Removing it from the hanger, she carefully raised the hem and slipped it over her arms and head. The black sheath flowed down her body like an exotic fluid to six inches above her knees and settled into place. Alex continued to stare at her, his mouth hanging slightly open, as he absorbed the mind-boggling sexiness of all that he’d just witnessed.
He didn’t think he’d ever seen fabric as clingy as this dress—it covered her torso and legs only slightly more efficiently than paint. It was sleeveless with a spaghetti strap around the back of her neck, down to the bodice which was a deep, loose vee. Her breasts were hidden within folds of the shimmering cloth. There were slits in the sides of the hem, almost to her hips. While the material was not opaque—he couldn’t actually see Maggie’s skin through it—it seemed to shimmer and flow as her body moved, clinging to her curves. As the dress settled against her body, it was like a second skin, showing every curve, no matter how subtle. Her nipples and breasts were perfectly molded through the cloth and as she did a little pirouette, the material settled slightly between her buttocks. It was very obvious that she was wearing nothing beneath it and Alex could already feel the stirrings of an erection.
“Like it, baby?” she asked.
“There are no words,” he managed to stammer.
____________________
As they strolled through various hallways and the huge lobby on the main floor to the dining room, not a single set of male eyes failed to notice and follow her. Many women were also fascinated, most exhibiting tell-tale signs of jealousy. The maître d’ did a slight double-take when they walked in and Alex gave him their name for the reservation. They were whisked away to a semi-private table surrounded by a cleverly arranged potted garden full of lush vegetation and flowers.
As they worked their way through their multi-course dinner and excellent champagne, they talked for over an hour, catching up on everything in their lives. Maggie could tell with great delight, that Alex was still mesmerized by her dress.
“If my heart can survive that shock, it’ll be good ’till I’m one hundred,” said Alex.
“I’m going to hold you to that, baby.”
Now in their little semi-private grotto of palm bushes and lush flowering plants, with her back to the restaurant, Maggie reached into the deep vee of her dress and pulled sideways, completely exposing her breasts to a stunned Alex, who was suddenly having difficulties breathing. His eyes bugged wide open as though he’d just spotted a ghost. Just as quickly, the material slid back into place, Maggie smiling smugly, thoroughly enjoying the look of unadulterated lust on his face.
Just before they left, Maggie arose to visit the lady’s room. As she stood, she managed to pull one of the slits at the hem open, giving him a quick peek at her bare pussy, before the dress fell back into place. His erection was now straining mightily against the material of his trousers. She was grinning as he watched her magnificent ass disappear through the tables around them.
After dinner, they slipped into a small intimate club in Desiree’s Grotto—one designed to her specifications. There was no semi-hysterical DJ here, playing rap music at an eardrum piercing volume. This room was dark and sensual. The couples were all dressed elegantly, sitting in intimate booths or love seats, carefully arranged to provide some separation from the people around them. A small orchestra played from a nearly hidden alcove, their music sultry, sizzling, and erotic.
They were seated in a two-person nook, the seats deeply plush and comfortable. Alex put his arm around Maggie’s shoulders and pulled her gently against his chest. Their drinks arrived and they sat for several minutes, enjoying the music and ambiance. Subtle lighting permitted the wait staff to find their way through the dim aisles and find their customers. But in the booths, it was difficult to distinctly make out other people nearby—they were like moving shadows. Alex moved his hand to the vee of Maggie’s dress and slipped it inside, cupping a breast and tweaking the puckering nipple with his fingertips. He could feel her head press back into his shoulder and hear her quietly sigh in pleasure. It was utterly dark under the table and her hand found his erection and gently massaged it through his pants.
A few minutes later, the orchestra was playing a song that lent itself nicely to slow dancing. Alex whispered in Maggie’s ear.
“Let’s go up and dance, babe. But you’ll have to help me get up there.”
“Why, what’s wrong?” she whispered back.
“You’ve given me an immense hard-on and you’ll have to help me hide it as we walk to the dance floor.”
Maggie giggled. “It will be my pleasure, lover.”
She arose first and stood with her back to him. He stood in the semi-darkness and wrapped his arms around her waist as they moved towards a few other couples slowly gyrating on the tiny dance floor. Seconds later, she’d twirled and they were in one another’s arms, slowly moving in time to the music. Maggie could feel his erection pressing against her lower belly as they moved and forced herself tightly against it. She knew he couldn’t feel her boobs through the layers of tux, but she pressed them tightly against him anyway. The song went on for five minutes and they were ready to jump each others’ bones, right there on the dance floor. She helped him conceal his erection returning to their table as well. Finally, it was well after midnight.
When researching Desiree’s Grotto, Maggie had been fascinated with one of the hotel’s quirks. Desiree assured her customers that there were no cameras in the elevators—they were utterly private. They were also express so would not stop until you’d arrived at your floor.
When she and Alex entered the elevator and the door slid closed after he pushed their button, she sank to her knees in front of him and unzipped his fly. A second later, she had his rock-hard member in her mouth and took him deeply, slowly moving him in and out between her lips. Alex thought his knees might buckle. Thirty seconds after she started, the control panel gave a warning ping, indicating the doors were about to open, and Maggie stood, watching with delight as Alex struggled to get his swollen cock back inside his pants. He barely succeeded when the door swished open, revealing an empty hallway.
Their room door was almost one hundred feet from the elevator. As she stepped out into the empty hallway, Maggie casually reached down and grasping the hem of her dress, pulled it up and over her head, leaving her utterly naked. She hung the dress around Alex’s neck and leaned into him for a deep kiss. Seconds later, he put his arm around her, and they headed down the hallway, Maggie strolling beside him. She was so turned on by the bug-eyed look on his face at her nakedness, and the huge bump in the front of his pants, she could feel her juices leaking from her, slowly coating the insides of her thighs. She thought there were likely security cameras here in the hall and felt a little thrill, knowing that in a security room somewhere, a number of men were watching their every move.
Back in their room, they made love for over an hour, taking full advantage of the Jacuzzi soaker tub and the monstrous canopy bed with its overhead mirror. It was a night that neither of them would forget for many, many years.
____________________
The next morning, they had breakfast delivered to their room. Still in bed, they were both naked under the covers when it arrived and called for the waiter to let himself in. He was a young man, clearly in awe of Maggie, trying not to ogle her breasts which were partially exposed as she held the sheet loosely around her body, trying to remove the cover from one of the dishes. They laughed heartily when the flustered young man finally left them alone again.
Maggie had managed to fulfill several of Alex’s Triple-A requests the previous evening. But his twenty-four hours were not over until midnight—he might even get a few bonus hours if he was lucky. And there were a few more boxes to tick today.
Another of Alex’s requests was to take a hike, with a sub-request. Years ago in his early teens, he’d visited Las Vegas with his family and they’d spent a day hiking in the park just west of the city called Red Rock Canyon. He’d never forgotten it and spent some time in Google maps, getting a feel for the trails. He finally settled on an area accessed via a long winding trail from the parking lot.
They arrived late morning and two hours later reached the summit of a small mountain of ancient rusty-red boulders the size of houses. Fortunately, the weather was cool for this area today—in the mid-seventies. It was not unusual for it to be well over one hundred degrees. This was true desert—dry scrubby brush, cactus, and lots of sand. The peak they’d arrived on provided a magnificent view of the other low rocky mountains in this range, but more importantly, of the access trails to where they were sitting. Fortunately, the park was not too crowded yet.
As well as getting some exercise and seeing some spectacular scenery, Alex had requested a long, outdoor BJ with Maggie either nude or topless while she gave it. This spot was perfect—they had this area to themselves and could see if anyone was coming. Alex chose a large smooth boulder with a wide flat top and spread the large bath towels he’d borrowed from their room. He had a small cooler and opened an ice-cold Corona. Then he removed all his clothes and sat in the center of a towel.
It didn’t take Maggie long to undress, too. She wore a light sleeveless T-shirt, tight shorts, and sockless sneakers. Laying between his legs, she first took a sip of his beer and then proceeded to the task at hand. A half-hour later, Alex had one of the most spectacular orgasms of his life. Maggie managed to swallow most of his semen but there was still a fair amount spread across her lower face which Alex carefully wiped away, before giving her a long deep kiss of gratitude.
Later that day, they spent an hour lying outside the hotel at a ‘swimsuit optional’ pool, surrounded by a high fence and lush tropical landscaping. Alex quickly decided that Maggie was the most beautiful woman there, although there were many other couples enjoying the sun, warming their naked bodies. All around the pool, Alex could see the men and many of the women, stealing occasional glances at Maggie. He had to avoid looking at her to prevent an embarrassing erection.
Finally, they headed back to their room to prepare for dinner. They had worn robes down to the pool with nothing underneath. As they boarded the elevator, two businessmen in suits joined them, apparently headed to the roof bar. When the door closed, Maggie pretended to lean forward to adjust the bag she was carrying, causing her entire robe to fall open. Her entire chest was now exposed, but she pretended not to notice while digging through the contents of the bag. The two men openly stared, not believing what they were seeing—two perfect breasts swaying and jiggling as she moved. And below her tight, hard stomach, was a perfectly bald and suntanned quim. Neither of the men would ever forget this. Another of the requests on Alex’s list was complete.
Alex’s twenty-four hours were now up, and Maggie hadn’t missed anything. They remained in Las Vegas for a few more days, enjoying being utterly lazy and emptying their minds of work and all the other distractions back home. They made love several times per day, slept long hours, and played like teenagers in all the amazing venues offered by this city.
Too soon it was time to board their aircraft and return home.
____________________
May 2020
Ten Years Later
Neither Alex nor Maggie could believe that twenty years had slipped by since that magical afternoon on Coney lake, back in the summer of 2000. Alex was now forty-two years old; Maggie would turn forty in a few months. Their daughter Chrissie was a teenager; now eighteen. Where in God’s name had the years gone? It seemed like just a year or two since she’d been born.
They were recovering from three very difficult years; so bad that Maggie often laid awake at night while off in some far-flung country, worrying about the survival of their marriage. There were several problems with varying degrees of complexity, but the root cause of most of them was their respective careers.
Both of their companies were now worth millions—Alex and Maggie were incredibly wealthy, although a stranger would never guess, given their lifestyle. During rare days at home together, they dressed as always; jeans or shorts, sneakers, tee-shirts, perhaps a fleece top in cooler weather.
They had paid a price for their success. Every year there were more and more demands on their personal time; countless days, weeks, and months of work and travel. Alex now spent a lot of time on the road, too. Their companies and jobs were so demanding that their family usually played second fiddle to their professional lives.
Maggie in particular, was required to take more frequent and longer trips to sites where her firm’s communications products were being installed, serviced, or upgraded. Due to the increasingly sensitive nature of her technology, her military customers were loath to grant security clearances to new people in the company. The few with sufficiently high security clearances were stretched so thin, Maggie often had to go herself.
A few years earlier, Alex’s Crystal Soft was nearly acquired by a rival firm in an attempted hostile takeover. Alex later learned that the rival company had hired professional agents to befriend his partner, Kerry Sloan. Sloan was now for all practical purposes, a junkie. Alex and Sloan’s family had attempted interventions and getting him into rehab but none of it worked. Posing as friends, the agents over a period of months, convinced an incoherent Sloan to sign an interim agreement to sell them all his C-Soft shares.
Alex didn’t find out about it until one morning when the rival firm’s executives and lawyers arrived at the C-Soft head office and attempted to physically take it over. C-Soft had installed a security department a few years earlier, due to some threats against employees and managers. Sam McClusky, the Head of Security, and Alex were close friends. Faced with lawyers brandishing some very legal and authentic-looking paperwork, Sam looked to Alex for direction. Alex knew there was some serious bullshit being flung about and ordered Sam to throw them out of the building, using violence if necessary. Sam took him to heart and a few minutes later, they were gone.
Alex tried to contact Sloan who was nowhere to be found. He called his board of directors and the firm’s criminal lawyers; none of them knew what the fuck was going on either. Alex ordered all the building’s doors locked, with guards posted to check the company ID of anyone wishing to enter. While waiting for his lawyers to arrive, he called an emergency staff meeting and explained what was going on.
Over the next week, the pieces fell into place. Crystal-Soft’s legal firm quickly established that Sloan didn’t have the authority on several different levels, to sign the offer to sell his shares. They launched several court actions against the other company and against Sloan. Then tragically, Sloan was discovered found dead in his home by his housekeeper—his autopsy confirming what the paramedics already knew. He’d overdosed on Fentanyl-laced drugs. The police ran an investigation for over a year, to establish that it was accidental and not a murder.
In an emergency meeting, the board of directors promoted Alex to CEO of Chrystal-Soft. A year later, according to the terms of Sloan’s will, Alex received a large percentage of Sloan’s shares making him the majority shareholder by a comfortable margin. When the whole fiasco was over, which had been monitored closely by financial analysts throughout the country, C-Soft’s share values surged, increasing the company’s net worth by almost 40%.
The remainder of Sloan’s common shares went to his estranged family, who had no voting rights and could have no further say in the company’s day-to-day affairs. Alex now owned almost 90% of the company.
It had all worked out well but had taken a toll on Alex’s family life as he’d fought the rival company and Sloan’s tarnished legacy. And when it was all over, it sunk in that he’d lost a dear friend—a victim of drug addiction.
____________________
Just over a year later in the spring of 2020, Alex arrived home early one evening and was surprised to find Maggie asleep on the sofa in the living room. She’d been away on a six-week project at yet another classified location, somewhere in northeast Asia.
As they sat and chatted, catching up as they often did after long separations, Alex could tell that something had changed between them. For perhaps the first time in their adult lives, he had no burning desire to drag his wife off to their marital bed and have his way with her. And he sensed the feeling was mutual.
They looked a lot different now than they had twenty years ago when they’d married. Maggie was still an attractive woman with a classically beautiful face framed by light brown hair just starting to show some first streaks of gray. She’d taken to wearing it shorter over the past few years. Alex didn’t mind but couldn’t forget how long and thick it had been when they’d first met.
But another change in her body had affected her greatly. The women in Maggie’s family on her mother’s side, shared a gene that was not kind to their breasts. Their daughter Chrissie had nursed for two years. Ten years after her milk dried up, Maggie discovered that she too was experiencing the changes. Her beautiful, shapely breasts that Alex had been so enraptured with, began a long, slow deflation. It was as though they’d been full of a viscous liquid which over the next decade, slowly seeped away until there was nothing left inside. Her once glorious breasts which had caught the eyes of a thousand men, now hung flat against her ribcage like deflated balloons.
To his credit, Alex had told her a hundred times over the years, that it didn’t make a damn bit of difference to him. He looked her in the eyes and told her she was just as hot and beautiful to him as she’d always been. And he proved it in bed every time they made love—being just as enthusiastic and thoughtful a lover as he’d been from day one. And she loved him for it. But deep down, she understood that the loss of her statuesque breasts was a mortal wound to her youth.
Finally, over the past several years with all the crazy things going on with their companies, they had both let themselves go physically. When a job requires sitting in front of a laptop or computer monitor for up to fifteen hours per day, it is very easy for the pounds to slowly accumulate at the waist, thighs, and ass. Maggie had worn small-sized dresses throughout her teens and twenties—often having to alter new clothes because her breasts were disproportionally larger than her waist and hips. Now in her late thirties, she was lucky to get into a large-size dress. It was difficult to purchase new clothes because her chest size had significantly decreased. She’d taken to wearing padded bras to help fill out the tops.
Alex had gained weight, too. Through his late teens and twenties, he’d worn size thirty, then thirty-two waist pants and had always been in good physical shape. He’d run marathons back in college and was a middle-weight amateur MMA fighter. But these days, he was wearing size thirty-eight pants and they were getting dangerously snug. He dreaded having to move up to size forty—then he would be officially and grossly obese. He was now wearing extra-large shirts untucked, to cover his expanding gut. He was fortunate that male pattern baldness was not an issue, but his hair while still thick, was now generously sprinkled with gray. He didn’t mind that so much, as long as it was still there.
He wondered when this had all happened? But he knew exactly when and how it had happened—slowly, a couple of pounds at a time over the years, until the thought of getting rid of it become daunting. And Maggie hadn’t seemed to mind, or even to notice for that matter.
They’d purchased a spectacular new house a few years ago—almost triple the size of the first home they’d lived in after they were married. They were now in a gated community surrounded by an eight-foot masonry security fence. The architect’s main objective had been security and privacy for the well-heeled folks who would eventually buy these estate-like homes. They had their own private pool and outdoor patio kitchen—they entertained here often for a variety of friends and guests from their respective industries. On the surface, it all looked like a very nice life.
“It’s great to have you home, Mags,” he said. “Chrissie is going to be over the moon to see you.”
“Think so? I can’t believe she’s eighteen—I was getting laid when I was seventeen. Did we ever have ‘the talk’ with her, baby?” Maggie was kidding but only partially.
Alex chuckled… “Yeah, we did. She’s a smart kid and she’ll be okay. We’re sure lucky—we know people whose kids have turned into monsters or druggies or both. While Chrissie hasn’t always been an angel, she’s sure been better than most. She comes in here late at night sometimes when you’re away and we have deep heart-to-heart talks about all sorts of stuff.”
“No kidding… like what?”
Alex thought about it a bit. “Oh you know, the usual stuff that worries the shit out of teenagers. She worries about us, too.”
“Really? Why would she be worried about us?” asked Maggie.
But deep down, she knew the answer to her own question. She worried too, about how she and Alex were drifting apart. She’d had a thousand opportunities over the years to be unfaithful to him but never had. And she was pretty sure she’d know if Alex had ever cheated on her. She sensed they were slowly losing their grasp of a once special bond.
Neither of them said anything for several minutes.
Alex broke the silence and cleared his throat. “You know babe, over the years when we were so busy that our home life wasn’t stellar, can you think of the thing that would always get us sorted out again?”
Maggie did know.
“Yeah,” she said smiling wistfully, “It was always that stupid fucking Triple-A thing you invented.”
Her eyes were unfocused as her mind wandered back over the years, thinking about all the different ways the contract had been used and the spectacular fun they’d had. But now they’d missed a few years; maybe five or six or more. She’d lost track.
If she wasn’t mistaken, the last time they’d used it was on Alex’s thirty-third or maybe his thirty-forth birthday. The following year when it was her turn, she’d been sick. She’d had a bout of gall stones that had required emergency surgery and was bed-ridden for two weeks. It had been over a month before she’d fully recovered and the pact was forgotten that year.
The following year, Alex’s parents both died within a few months of each other. It had been terrible for him and the last thing on his mind was the contract. The precedent was set and neither of them mentioned it again for a few years, although she thought of it occasionally. It had worked so well and the memories of their adventures were powerful and good. She felt her eyes welling up.
“We’re a lot different now than back in our twenties and early thirties, eh Alex.”
He was quiet for a minute. “Yeah, I guess we are. We definitely look different but by God Mags, we’re exactly the same people inside. Your birthday is coming up in a few months—I think it’s your turn, babe. Why don’t you blow the dust off the goddamn thing and present me with your list for this year. I’d really like that.”
Maggie was quiet again for a few minutes. She crawled across the couch, settling back into Alex’s chest, enjoying the feel of him and his arms around her. This was the first time they’d cuddled like this in perhaps a year.
“I’m so sorry to tell you this darling, but I’m afraid I have to go away again. It’s a long one this time; probably four months.”
“Four months?” he said, his eye showing bitter disappointment. “Jesus H. Christ, you’ve never had to go for that long before, have you?”
She could now hear anger in his voice. While she knew he didn’t like her long absences, he understood and had always supported her with Chrissie. Through her childhood, their daughter had cried when she found out about her mom’s upcoming trips and resented them greatly. This was too much to ask of her family.
It was time to tell her husband a secret she’d been keeping for several months now. Military lawyers might argue she was committing a crime telling him this because his clearance wasn’t sufficiently high. But fuck’em; she was going to do it anyway. She turned and faced him.
“I’ve been giving this traveling bullshit lot of thought, baby. I tried everything to get out of this one, but it’s a vitally important mission. I shouldn’t tell you this and I have to swear you to absolute secrecy—this has to be between you and I, Alex. Okay?”
“Yes, of course,” said Alex, his anger forgotten.
“Where we’re going could be dangerous. Once we’re in, they won’t want to bring us out until the job is done. It’s not common knowledge, but we’ve been quietly ‘duking it out’ with a few other countries in space; taking high-tech potshots at our respective communications satellites and systems. My Ion-Link technology has been the only network to survive unscathed. Its importance has been upgraded to the highest level.”
“Jesus Christ…” said Alex. “I had no idea.”
“And as coincidence would have it, a few months ago I received an offer from a competitor to purchase 51% or more of my stock, and take over the firm. The competitor is American owned and I’ve asked some contacts in the Pentagon to run deep background investigations on their owners, management, and board of directors. I’ve whispered to my military liaisons that if this company is solid, and with Pentagon permission, I’d like to accept their offer.
Alex, I want to hang up my keyboard. I’m going to be stinking, fucking rich… Wait, that’s not quite accurate. We’re both already stinking fucking rich; we’re just going to be a shitload richer. But you know what, baby? None of that matters for shit if I don’t have you and Chrissie waiting here for me when I finally walk away.”
“Holy shit!” was all Alex could say as he absorbed all the implications. “I had no idea you were leaning this way. Goddamn it Mags, that is mind-boggling news. I’m absolutely delighted for you. And for Chrissie and me too, I might add…”
Maggie was smiling broadly for the first time in months. “Alex, having thought it over for a grand total of about five minutes now, I accept your challenge to re-enact that fucking Triple-A pact.”
Alex hugged her tightly to him. “That’s fantastic news too—almost as good as your company news.”
“Goddamned right,” she said. “But the timing will be a little different this year; I can’t collect until I’m back from this last trip. I’ll be in the field on my birthday.”
“That works for me. If you were to carefully check the oh-so-clever wording of the pact, you have an entire year in which your twenty-four-hour period of requests can take place. We’ll celebrate when you get back, babe. And remember what the Triple-A stands for . . . Anything! Anytime! Anywhere! You’ll have lots of time to think about it and send me my orders.”
They made love that night for the first time in months. It was a far cry from the highly charged sessions of their youth, but it was good. The only thing that saddened Alex was her self-consciousness about her breasts. She insisted on wearing one of her padded bras and that the lamps be turned off. It occurred to him that he didn’t mind the dim light either, given how disgusting his gut was getting to be.
____________________
Maggie had just over a month to prepare for her next deployment and was giving the Triple-A Pact a good deal of thought. A number of potential ideas had been filtering through her mind since their conversation a week ago. One in particular, might be a ‘life changer’ for her and Alex. The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. It was going to be bloody expensive, but she reminded herself, that wasn’t an issue. She’d worked hard for her money—now was the perfect time to start enjoying it. She didn’t know if she could pull off all the crazy ideas she was having, but goddamn it, she was sure going to try.
Over the next few weeks, she spent countless hours online, researching a number of subjects of interest that might play nicely into her Triple-A plans.
And on the ‘biggie’.
____________________
As usual, the day she left for her deployment was emotional for them all. Maggie and Chrissie wept loudly and wetly during their good-bye hug. With the taxi driver blowing his horn out in the street, even Alex’s eyes were brimming and his breathing congested as tears leaked from his eyes and down his cheeks—he quickly wiped them away with the back of a fist. At the airport, Maggie quietly cried in the VIP lounge, and again after boarding her commercial flight overseas. Up in first class, she found the seat next to hers vacant and wept silently into a linen napkin. It would be a few days before she had herself back under control.
Maggie had not been completely honest with Alex and Chrissey. She’d recently learned that the length of this deployment might be reduced by two or three weeks. She didn’t tell her family; keeping that information in reserve. She was going to need it. And rather than flying directly to the military marshaling area where she would depart for the project site, this commercial flight landed twelve hours later at Narita International Airport in Japan. It was now 3:00 AM local time and she was bone-weary.
A small Japanese man dressed in a black suit was waiting outside customs with a sign bearing her last name. She had pre-shipped her luggage so after showing her paperwork, he took her overnight case and in broken English, asked her to follow. It was a ten-minute walk out to a special parking zone where a gleaming black Toyota Century that Maggie knew was worth over $150,000 US dollars, awaited them. Now seated in the plush back seat, her small carry-on case beside her, she found a selection of wines and crystal glasses in a small refrigerator. She chose a five-ounce bottle of expensive champagne and poured it into a flute, while the driver watched in his rear-view mirror. When she was ready, he pulled out into the stream of airport traffic. Even though it was ninety-five kilometers to her destination, somewhere north of Tokyo through a maze of overlapping freeways, they arrived in less than an hour. Now at 4:15 AM, the traffic was light.
In the gloom of darkness, they approached a large modern building that looked like a private mansion located in the center of a park-like estate. At the front entry was a covered area surrounded by lush gardens, where limos could discharge and collect passengers, out of sight of the street and protected from the elements. Her driver had apparently called ahead. A young Japanese woman wearing a traditional kimono was waiting for her just inside the large plate-glass entry doors. Speaking in heavily accented English, the woman welcomed Maggie and led her through a maze of hallways to her room. A meeting with Maggie’s personal contact was scheduled for 1:00 PM the following afternoon, giving her almost eight hours to rest and recover from her jetlag.
Her surgery was scheduled for 7:00 AM the following day.
In the month before leaving home, Maggie had set this plan in motion—to have her breasts augmented and reconstructed. She’d investigated surgeons all over North America, Europe, and Southeast Asia. She had a close friend in the medical community back home and enlisted her help as well. Finally, after looking at hundreds of the most highly rated clinics in the world, and reams of ‘before and after’ photos, Maggie settled on this one. It was utterly private, discreet, and outrageously expensive. But after exchanging countless emails and having several hour-long conversations with the clinic’s representatives and the surgeon assigned to her case, she knew this was the right one.
Twenty years earlier, Dr. Kisho Takahashi had graduated from the prestigious school of medicine at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. He’d then attended Tokyo Medical University for another four years, specializing in cosmetic surgery. Since then, he’d performed thousands of complex operations for a range of issues. He had developed many new techniques of facial and breast reconstruction with the goal of reducing scarring. He was considered one of the world’s top surgeons in this field.
A month earlier, Dr. Takahashi arranged for Maggie to attend their facility in Chicago where potential new patients were evaluated. No surgery was performed there—just examinations and medical imaging. Maggie was positioned in several complex machines that took nearly one hundred assorted images of her upper body—X-rays, CT scans, MRI’s, ultrasounds, even PET scans with radioactive tracers injected into her bloodstream. She’d pretty much had them all.
Maggie and Dr. Takahashi had several more ‘facetime’ sessions, as he designed a course of action and recovery, specifically tailored for her body. The doctor could see precisely what had happened to Maggie’s breasts. Alex had taken a few nude photos of her over the years and she forwarded encrypted copies of them to Dr. Takahashi. He was pleased that she simply wanted her breasts returned to their former size and shape—it might have been problematic making them significantly larger. He was also pleased that Maggie’s areolae and nipples would not have to be repositioned. That would make things considerably easier, too. He had done several hundred reconstructions like Maggie’s and knew that she was going to be delighted with the results.
That afternoon, they met briefly at the appointed time. Maggie had slept well, felt rested, and although a bit nervous, was keen to get started. She liked Dr. Takahashi immediately and felt totally confident in his abilities. As they sat talking, he noticed something on her left hand and reached for it. Taking her hand in his, he carefully examined her stainless steel engineer’s ring, feeling it with a fingertip, noting its worn appearance.
“Each of my parents wore a ring like this,” he said in accented but excellent English. “When they died in the nineties, at their request, their rings were returned to your professional society. Although the odds are very low, I would like to think that this ring might be one of theirs. Please do not worry Miss Maggie, I will take exceptionally good care of you. You will be very very pleased when this process is complete.”
In ‘production-type’ north American cosmetic-surgical clinics and hospitals, a typical surgeon might perform four to six procedures per day. Dr. Takahashi performed one per day. On the morning of Maggie’s operation, he and his staff started preparing his theatre at 6:00 AM, and was ready when she arrived already partially sedated, an hour later. The operation took six full hours. Two hours of this time involved slowly inflating sterile sacs inside her breasts to gently re-stretch her skin and tissues to their original shape. He took careful measurements and chose inserts from their extensive inventory that would ensure a perfect fit and shape.
Even though her procedure was highly invasive, Maggie did not receive traditional stitches or staples to seal the incisions, as are commonly used. Dr. Takahashi’s sutures were nearly invisible to the naked eye, using his own method of hiding them within the wound. They were self-dissolving, so would not require removal weeks later. He worked quietly and diligently for over an hour with magnification goggles strapped in place over his eyes, closing Maggie’s incisions. These stitches were delicate and easily torn so he used a taping technique to reinforce the sutures, but still allow air circulation to the healing flesh. Maggie had to remain on her back in bed for a week as the edges of incised skin slowly meshed and healed. The clinic had a device that projected the pages of E-books onto the ceiling. For many hours she read, watched streaming television services, and slept.
Maggie spent three weeks at the clinic. After finally being allowed out of bed, the rest of her time was very pleasant. During the second week, her dressings were changed daily—she was not permitted to see her torso yet. She was actually lifted from her bed and moved to various locations around the clinic in a wheelchair. She was taken to the most delightful private garden she had ever seen. Surrounded by poi ponds and thousands of species of flowering bushes, Maggie sipped tea and sat in the shade, resting and reading novels on her Ipad.
In addition to her surgery, she was now well into her new diet which she’d started a month before leaving home—it continued here at the clinic, with Dr. Takahashi’s blessing. She was served delicious, low-calorie meals that she soon looked forward to each day. She visited the chef who in heavily accented, broken English, explained at length about Japanese cooking. She vowed she’d learn to cook like this when she finally returned home. The clinic had a small gym and in her third week, under the supervision of a serious young trainer, she was permitted to carefully start working some muscles that would not damage or even strain her rapidly healing incisions.
The time went by quickly.
At the end of her third week of recovery, Maggie sat impatiently and nervously, as the bindings and dressings around her chest were delicately cut and peeled away. This was it—she was about to find out what the clinic’s $75K price tag had bought her. As her new bosom slowly appeared in the full-length mirror, in spite of much ugly multi-colored bruising on the skin around the now mostly healed incisions, she could not believe what she was seeing, and started to cry.
____________________
It was a perfect day in Key West, Florida. A southeasterly Atlantic breeze kept the street temperature in the low eighties. Alex was on the south side of town in a little waterfront pub called The Sugarloaf Bar and Grill, with lots of trendy woodwork, ferns, and giant screen TVs, with a half-dozen different sports playing nonstop. Patrons could sit inside watching a football game, or gaze out through dozens of large open windows at the ocean, or wander out onto a huge patio shaded by dozens of fifty-foot palm trees. The patio bordered a wide sandy beach leading down to the Straits of Florida, the entrance to the Gulf of Mexico. It was just 11:00 AM and not too busy yet. Alex was sitting inside, enjoying the air conditioning and constant attention of the young waitresses working the bar, floor, and patio.
He could not help but stare at the young women employed here—his eyes constantly wandered from one to the next. This was a privately owned establishment, but you’d be forgiven for assuming you’d walked into a ‘Hooters’. These waitresses had been hired for their near-perfect bodies and good looks—not a single one of them was even slightly plump, much less overweight. The pub uniform was comprised of skin-tight black spandex short-shorts, and loose white sleeveless shirts with thin spaghetti straps over the shoulders, deeply scooped at the bodice, providing stunning views of unrestrained cleavage. Alex wondered how the pub owner got away with this. He supposed the tips were so lucrative, there was no shortage of attractive young women willing to do the job, bare-ass naked if necessary.
Anyone who’d known Alex for a few years and just happened to bump into him here today, would probably not recognize him. Five months ago, Alex had decided that while Maggie was away on her last long business deployment, he was going to get his lazy, sorry ass back in shape. He’d quit drinking and cut out snacking altogether between meals. He’d eliminated fatty foods, starchy carbs, and increased his intake of vegetables and fruit. He’d signed up for a gym membership weeks before she left, hired a personal trainer, and started an exercise regime to shed the fat accumulated over the past decade. He’d also looked up his old MMA trainer and was working out in his gym, too. Alex was determined to get some of his old muscle tone back.
The results were impressive. While he was not back in the size thirty-two waist slacks of his early twenties, he was in size thirty-four with a nice loose fit. His gut no longer hung over his buckle and his arms, shoulders, and chest were hard and muscled. There was even a hint of washboard across the flat of his stomach. After hours on his exercise bike and starting to run again, he was up to five miles daily and actually starting to enjoy it. His weight had dropped from two hundred, fifteen pounds down to one sixty-five—he felt great.
So here he was, dressed in khaki shorts, a subdued Hawaiian design shirt, and light sandals. He was sipping on an ice-cold Corona, condensation weeping down the sides and forming a puddle on the plastic coaster. Every five minutes, one of the buxom scantily clad young waitresses passed his table, making eye contact to see if he was ready for another. He was nursing this one—making it last.
He looked out over the patio, greatly enjoying the view. The beach was starting to fill up with locals and tourists, including hundreds of women of every age, size, and description, wearing string bikinis, and carrying towels and baskets of beach supplies. He watched one waitress who seemed to have drawn the short straw, working tables out on the patio, refilling salt, pepper, ketchup containers, and napkin dispensers. She carefully wiped down each set of tables and chairs in preparation for the next customers. As she twisted and turned, performing her duties with her back to Alex, he couldn’t help admire her slim muscular backside, her buttocks barely hidden under the spandex shorts, which looked like they had been spray-painted on. As she turned to move a chair back into position, he imagined playing with the large unrestrained bosom swaying beneath her company T-shirt—her dark firm nipples bulging through the paper-thin cotton. Alex sighed.
He was as nervous as a grade-school student about to go on his first date. He had not seen Maggie since the day she’d left, over four months ago. They’d spent hours talking on the phone when she could get a secure line. And many more hours texting and sending raunchy e-mails back and forth. Then three weeks ago, an email had arrived with “Triple-A Instructions” in the subject line. There was a clickable link and a few terse sentences, explaining that the link led to an encrypted file. The password was a riddle that took Alex two frustrating hours to solve. This required a phone call to her parents for the name of her favorite stuffed ‘horsie’ when she was a little girl. Then he had to search the basement for an assortment of letters, numbers, and characters that she’d written on the sides of structural 2 X 4 studs. But finally, he had the password and with great trepidation, opened the file, and typed in the code.
Five minutes later, he whistled quietly to himself. How the fuck was he going to manage all of this? Then he smiled and knew it was all going to be worth it. He was beside himself in anticipation at what was about to unfold.
The first of the complex instructions required him to fly to Key West and check into a luxury hotel. Then she’d described this pub in some detail, with specific instructions about when he was to be there—even where he was to sit. He was to identify himself as ‘Alex’ to Cassie, a very sexy-looking bartender with long black hair who was apparently the pub manager. When he arrived a half-hour early, Cassie was there and expecting him. She led him to his table and removed a ‘reserved’ sign. A minute later, she set an ice-cold Corona on a coaster directly in front of him. This table was situated in a small alcove at the entrance to a service hallway. He had some privacy from the rest of the pub, partially hidden behind a planter full of bamboo. Immediately beside his table was a huge open window, looking out onto the patio and the ocean beyond. He decided it was the best table in the house—probably reserved for VIP’s. He could smell the salt air gently wafting in on a light warm breeze.
He’d been sitting here admiring the view since arriving, his anticipation at seeing Maggie reaching a fever pitch. Her instructions offered no clues about when she might arrive or anything else—his imagination was running rampant. What did she have in mind? He hoped it would be soon. Alex was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, he was so looking forward to seeing her. Four months was a long, long time to be apart.
The stream of waitresses moving about the bar was constant. He seemed to get lots of big smiles as each of them walked by like they were checking him out. They all seemed to be in on some private joke that he didn’t understand.
Outside the large open window at his shoulder, the patio waitress had worked her way to a table less than ten feet away. She was wearing one of those golf hats with just a brim to keep the sun off her face. As she worked, he could covertly watch her body as she reached out across the table surface. Her breasts jiggled and moved provocatively, and the top of her T-shirt fell open, partially exposing the tops of two magnificent breasts, causing him to unconsciously hold his breath. Finally, he tore his eyes away as yet another gorgeous waitress walked by his table. He made eye contact with her, pointing at his now empty bottle; she nodded and carried on.
He pulled out his phone and spent a minute checking for texts or emails from Maggie. There were none. He looked out to the patio—the deck-waitress was gone. All the tables she’d serviced were now gleaming and ready for new customers. Then he saw her approaching, possibly forty feet away, pushing her stainless steel cart containing all of her supplies, towards the hallway behind him. She still had her head down, her face hidden by the brim of her cap as she shuffled supplies on the cart. From one quick glance at her face, he thought she looked flushed. That must be from working outside in the bright sun and heat. His attention returned to his phone.
As the cart passed his table, he was started when something fell to the floor near his feet—a plastic spray bottle of Windex. Now the outdoor waitress bent over to retrieve it, but rather than quickly rising and carrying on down the hall, she remained stooped in front of him, doing something with the Windex. Her head was still lowered so the brim of her hat hid her face. Maybe the container had been damaged in the fall.
Then she spoke to him.
Alex was simultaneously gobsmacked by three different things. His breath caught in this throat and he felt his heart pounding in his chest—he wondered if this might be what a heart attack felt like. First, as the sexy waitress leaned forward to retrieve the bottle, her loose cotton top with the scooped bodice fell wide open, completely exposing her unrestrained breasts—even the dark rose-colored nipples were perfectly visible. He was struck with how full and lush and evenly tanned her breasts were. He couldn’t help but stare, his jaw hanging slack in disbelief. Next, it occurred to him as she spoke, he’d recognized her voice. Third, and even more shocking than the unfettered view of her magnificent breasts, his brain managed to process what she’d just said to him.
“See something you like, Homie?”
Finally, she looked up and their eyes locked.
____________________
The week after Maggie left the clinic in Tokyo, she was flown to her top-secret deployment site in a small Lear jet, purchased by the military for the exclusive transport of high-ranking brass. She was the sole passenger. Someone was apparently looking out for her. The base that would be her home for the next three months was compact and secure with just over two hundred officers, non-commissioned military personnel, and a few civilian scientists, engineers, and diplomats. Her flight landed at a commercial airport fifty miles away and she was driven to the base in a taxi that actually belonged to the military. The driver looked local but was an undercover special forces officer with considerable training in weapons and tactics. He assured Maggie it would be an uneventful drive and he was true to his word. During the trip, she caught him checking her out in his rearview mirror. She couldn’t help but smile—maybe the $75K was worth it, after all. She was in her new quarters an hour later.
If any of her support staff noticed the changes in Maggie’s body, they conspicuously and carefully avoided letting on. The night she arrived, her incisions were aching a bit but she took one of the pain killers subscribed by Dr. Takahashi, and after a good night’s sleep, felt fine the next day. She asked her young orderly about recreational facilities on the base that might be available to a civilian contractor such as herself. She was delighted to learn there was a well-stocked gymnasium and enclosed running track.
Dr. Takahashi and her physical therapist had spoken with her at length, about what exercises she could do for at least eight weeks after the operation—she was to carefully avoid stretching her upper torso until the surgery wounds had completely mended. Just before leaving the clinic, she’d been given a large tube of a special salve. Dr. Takahashi instructed her to gently rub the salve into the incisions three times per day and she felt it was helping her mend faster. There were lots of things she could do on the gleaming stainless steel stationary machines scattered throughout the gym. At week six, wearing a heavy-duty supporting spandex sports bra, she started walking the indoor track which was the equivalent of a quarter mile, and was soon covering two or three miles per day. After eight weeks, she started jogging the track, building up her speed and endurance each day. By the end of her third month since leaving home, she was running at least five miles per day. The most difficult part of the running was the boredom of the quarter-mile track, but through sheer stubbornness, she persevered.
Her diet for the past eighteen weeks had done its magic, too. Maggie was now one hundred, twenty pounds, the lightest she’d been since her mid-twenties. Gone was the belly fat and layers of cellulite that had accumulated on her thighs and ass. The large muscles of her legs, torso, and arms now stood out in relief when she worked them. She felt as strong and alive as ever before in her life.
A month into her deployment, Brigadier General Howard Comstock made a special trip to the base to see Maggie. They met in a sound-proof room, swept daily by base security for listening devices. The room’s nickname was the ‘cone of silence’—Maggie laughed out loud when she first heard it. “Who gets to be Maxwell?” she’d asked. They sipped excellent coffee served in china cups, brought on a cart by a young orderly wearing a starched white jacket and white gloves.
Maggie smiled as the young man left the room. “Rank hath its privileges, eh General?” she said, teasing. She understood that whatever this was about, was going to be important.
“Good morning, Dr. Sinclair,” said General Comstock, smiling.
“Oh knock it off, Howard,” she said, grinning. “I might expect that from a shave-tail Second Lieutenant, but we’ve known each other too long, buddy.” Nearly twenty years ago, Comstock had been a freshly promoted Major who first discovered, evaluated, and recommended Maggie’s technology for military use. He’d put his ass on the line for her.
“How are Alex and Chrissie?” he asked. Comstock had met Alex many times—he and his wife had stayed with the Sinclair’s at their new home a year ago and met Chrissie.
“They’re great, Howard. As you might expect, they are delighted that I’m thinking about giving up the company and all this travel. I must admit, I’m looking forward to it more and more every day.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here, as you’ve probably guessed. I have great news, Maggie. The firm interested in purchasing Ion-Link has passed our investigative process with flying colors. They already had a fairly high clearance. We like them a lot, having worked with them on a number of other systems. So I’m pleased to tell you that the Pentagon had endorsed the sale and will ‘grease the skids’ to ensure the transition is as seamless and as timely as possible. We figure it’s going to take a year—you can handle your end of it from home. Our only request is that you maintain a secure office within your home, where we and the new firm can safely consult with you electronically through the transition. No more travel is required. Again, a year ought to be plenty.”
“Holy crap Howard, that is fantastic news. I can’t believe it’s really happening. Thank you so much.”
“Actually, it’s us that ought to be thanking you, which leads nicely to my next subject. Maggie, have you ever heard of a thing called the ‘Presidential Citizens Medal’?”
“I think so—it’s one step down from the ‘Medal of Freedom’?
“Bingo. I ask because you’re going to get one, my friend. I submitted your name for one about eight months ago and someone recently whispered in my ear that it’s a ‘go’. So you have that to look forward to as you wind down your official duties. It will be presented to you in the Oval Office by the President—in person. No one else can know the details because pretty much everything you’ve done is classified. But trust me—he’ll know.”
Comstock was grinning broadly at the look of astonishment on her face.
“Jesus Christ Howard, you didn’t have to do that. I’ve come out of all this smelling like the proverbial rose—it never occurred to me that there might be any kind of recognition.”
Comstock suddenly looked serious. “Because of your work, the military runs a little more efficiently than it would have otherwise. The next time the balloon goes up, your technology will almost certainly save lives and give us a leg up on the other guy. Hell, it has probably already saved lives. So you’re going to get some recognition whether you want it or not, kiddo.”
Maggie sat silent for a minute, then turned and smiled at him. “This is a lot to take in, Howard. And I really get to have a ‘cone of silence’ in the basement?”
Comstock laughed out loud at that one; something he rarely did while conducting official business. “I’m going to miss you, kiddo,” he said, still chuckling. He caught a flight back to DC later that afternoon.
Maggie could hardly sleep that night, thinking about how their lives were about to change. The next day she had some time to kill and opened an encrypted folder on her laptop titled ‘Triple-A’. As the weeks and months had gone by, she’d opened and worked at these files from time to time, fine-tuning her Triple-A instructions for Alex. She was becoming more and more excited about their reunion in three weeks.
Her thoughts wandered back over the past months; of her surgery in Japan, and the dieting and exercising. As well as a gift to herself, it was going to be a huge gift to Alex, too. Now she began to think through her preparations for their reunion. She hoped she hadn’t forgotten anything.
She knew she wanted to surprise him in a tropical setting with lots of strangers around, so she could blend in and utterly shock him with the new ‘her’. She came across an article about something happening in Key West, Florida, and knew it would be perfect for them. She’d spent hours researching on Google maps, using ‘Street View’ to find and check out potential sites. She’d spotted The Sugarloaf Bar and Grill and immediately liked the looks of it. She’d emailed the pub and spoken to a woman who ran the bar. After ten minutes, the woman was intrigued with Maggie’s story.
“Hey Maggie,” she finally said, “It’s starting to get busy in here. Why don’t you call me at home tomorrow morning around 10:00 and we can talk at length. This sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I’ll be delighted to help. True to her word, Cassie Tate was waiting for Maggie’s Facetime call the next day and they spoke for almost two hours. They were ten time zones apart and it was nearly midnight for Maggie when they finally hung up.
Over the next two weeks, they exchanged dozens of e-mails as the plan came together. Cassie sent photos of the bar layout. Maggie gave her a credit card number to cover some expenses, including a new barmaid’s uniform which Cassie couriered to Maggie, who spent several hours with a little sewing kit, modifying and ensuring that it fit perfectly.
In the privacy of her quarters, Maggie slipped the top on and practiced in a mirror, experimenting with various ways to move her body so the bodice would fall open, exposing her breasts. She sure didn’t want that part of her plan to fail.
The base had a number of suntan beds and Maggie spent many hours basking naked inside them, obtaining a nice even tan. She carefully examined the underfold of her breasts, inspecting the incision sites. She had diligently applied the creams that Dr. Takahashi had provided. The scars were now difficult to see—faint paper-thin white lines with the bruising and redness around them pretty much gone.
As the days passed and her flight home drew near, one final problem cropped up. Maggie wanted a perfect Brazilian wax-job of her privates but discovered that a military base was a poor place to shop for the necessary supplies. The base had an arrangement with Amazon and Maggie placed an order, paying extra for two-day overseas delivery. The package arrived 48 hours before her flight time and she spent several hours, carefully and painfully removing every tiny hair growing anywhere between the soles of her feet and her neck. She’d also ordered some skin salve that helped her privates recover quickly from the abuse. By the time she caught her taxi to the airport the next morning, all of her hidden folds were smooth, pink, and comfortable.
As the taxi pulled away, she didn’t look back nor did she feel even the slightest melancholy, knowing this was her last trip to any of the numerous secret sites around the world, where her technology was employed.
Sixteen hours later at midnight local time, her connecting flight landed in Key West, Florida and she caught a taxi to a five-star hotel considered the finest in town. The next morning at 8:00 AM, an hour before they opened, she walked into the Sugarloaf Bar and Grill. A few minutes later she’d met and hugged Cassie Tate—they greeted each other like old friends. They sat in Cassie’s office for an hour, drinking coffee and getting to know each other even better, and discussing details of Maggie’s plan, which so far was working perfectly. Tomorrow was the big day.
____________________
Maggie was pretty sure Alex would be early—that was his nature—so she was there at 10:30 AM, and sat in a small staff room until he arrived. There were ten young women working that morning—each of them found time to pop in and wish her luck. They were all in on the plan and nearly as excited as Maggie. The last thing she’d checked in the bar before hiding in this room was the alcove table—the reservation sign was in place. Alex would be seated right where she wanted him.
Finally, a half-hour later at 11:30, Maggie’s phone pinged. Cassie had just seated a really good-looking guy who’d just walked in, asking about his wife, Maggie. Maggie felt a rush of adrenaline as she scooted over to where they’d parked the service cart. Grasping the push bar, she rolled it out through a service door onto the patio, being careful to keep her back to the open windows. She went to work, cleaning tables and restocking the table supplies, all the while trembling with excitement.
She felt quite self-conscious in the bar-maid uniform—practically naked, right out in public. The spandex shorts only partially covered her ass and hugged the firm curve of her buttocks. Anyone checking out her backside would see how round and tight her buns were; quite muscular after months of running and working out on the military exercise machines. Her high-heeled shoes made the muscles of her calves and thighs stand out—her legs looked long, slim, and beautifully shaped.
The white cotton top was the scary part—she’d altered hers slightly. It was a loose tube with spaghetti straps over the shoulders. First, she’d washed it several times, the first time with handfuls of sand, abrading the material to make it even thinner. Now the cotton was not quite transparent, but so thin that her nipples and even the outline of her areole were visible, pressing against the cloth from the inside. Then she’d made the straps slightly longer, so the shirt settled lower across her boobs, presenting even more cleavage. Looking at herself in the mirror this morning, she wondered if she’d gone a little overboard.
‘Fuck it’, she thought… ‘It’s just this one time—I don’t ever want him to forget this.’ She’d had one final practice earlier this morning, holding the hem of the shirt at her waist, and leaning forward. This seemed to cause the bodice to flop wide open, exposing her entire chest, all the way down to her navel. She prayed she’d have the nerve to go through with it.
As she leaned over to wipe a table, Maggie turned her head just enough that she could see Alex in her peripheral vision, without him seeing her face. She felt just a little faint as she watched him sipping his beer and looking out over the patio. He had to have been watching her—she’d been aiming her ass directly at him, trying to twist and turn so he’d see her boobs swaying and bouncing under the thin cotton. And he looked different. His face and what she could see of his upper body were considerably slimmer. God bless him—he’d lost weight for her, too. She had to force herself not to cry.
Ten minutes later, she’d finished all the patio tables. It was time. She slowly rolled the cart towards another entrance just fifty feet from his table and once inside, started towards him, keeping her head lowered so the brim of her hat hid her face. Now she could see he was wearing shorts and leather sandals—his legs looked buff and nicely tanned. Her heart rate was through the roof.
As the cart passed him, she dropped a plastic bottle she’d been clutching in one hand, so it landed on the floor beside him. Keeping her face lowered and hidden, she went down on her knees as though looking for the bottle near his feet. With one hand, she grabbed the spray bottle. Her other hand went to the hem of her shirt and pulled slightly, as she leaned forward toward him. Still looking down, she could see her breasts were utterly exposed—every square inch of them, including each nipple, now swollen in excitement. She actually heard Alex’s intake of breath as he noticed, his gaze fixed deep inside her shirt.
“See something you like, Homie?” she asked, her voice husky with excitement.
Then she looked up and locked eyes with Alex who looked like he was suffering a heart attack. His mouth was moving—he was trying to say something, but his vocal cords had apparently failed him. Nothing was coming out. Finally, he managed to croak out a few raspy words.
“Mag’s, Holy fuck, is that you?”
She couldn’t help but smile at the effect she was having on him. “Who did you think—the Easter Bunny?”
Alex continued to stare, not moving, his brain hopelessly overloaded. She couldn’t wait any longer and rose from her knees, sliding into his lap, her arms encircling his shoulders, feeling his arms reaching around her, and squeezing so tight, her breasts were crushed against his chest. She started to cry and she could hear Alex choking back tears too, his face next to her ear. The hug lasted a full minute until each managed to get back under control. When she finally pulled back and had a look around the room, she could see Cassie behind the bar, dabbing at her eyes with a wad of tissue. Several of the other young women working the bar were also wiping their eyes with the backs of their fingers. As Maggie broke into a smile, they all stopped what they were doing and applauded in an impromptu standing ovation.
All the other customers in the bar, with curious expressions, wondered what the fuck was going on.
____________________
The next item on Maggie’s Triple-A list for Alex, was a long lunch so they could talk—a wonderful falling-in-love-again, conversation. After the applause, one of the floor waitresses arrived at their table with a folding Japanese shoji screen, which she set up so their alcove became quite private. A sign on the screen said ‘Private Function’. A minute later, the same waitress reappeared with a bottle of Krug Brut Vintage 1988, which Alex happened to know sold for over one thousand dollars per bottle. He smiled at Maggie, finally regaining some of his wit.
“So we’re slumming this afternoon, huh?”
She smiled back. “Nothing’s too good for us, baby.”
“Goddamn right,” he said.
The waitress placed two crystal flutes on the table in front of them and poured the cold champagne. When she left, they picked up the glasses and touched rims.
“I didn’t answer your question,” said Alex. Maggie looked puzzled, not remembering having asked one.
“I like everything I see, Homie,” he said.
____________________
For the next two hours, they caught up on everything that had happened over the past four months. They’d had many ‘facetimes’ of her face only and exchanged countless e-mails, but this was different. Maggie told him the entire story of planning her surgery and all about the private clinic in Tokyo.
“I’m going to put Dr. Takahashi on my Christmas card list,” said Alex. “Not only is he a skilled surgeon; he’s also an artist. I can’t imagine how perfect and beautiful your boobies are and how much they look like they did when you were still nineteen.”
“That makes the surgery, recovery time, and the cost, all worth every penny,” said Maggie. “I will never forget the look on your face when I leaned forward and you got your first look at them,” she said. “It was priceless.”
Looking back over her shoulder to make sure there was no one behind them, she quickly raised her loose cotton shirt from the bottom, giving him a full unobstructed view of her new breasts. Then as quickly, the top fell back into place. Alex seemed to be experiencing medical distress, making Maggie smile at how easy it was to totally destroy his train of thought.
“They are nothing short of spectacular, Mags,” he said breathlessly. “I cannot wait to get my hands on them.”
“Me too,” said Maggie.
Maggie now having seen the new Alex, complimented him on how hot he looked, too. He’d even used a little coloring in his hair, so the gray was no longer so prominent. They each looked trim and fit after four months of intense diet, running, and working in the gym.
Alex had some surprising news for her, too. After hearing of her decision to retire, he decided that it was time for him to step down. He met with his Board of Directors, who took his advice to promote his company President to CEO, with a number of incentives including generous stock options.
The Board of Directors also agreed to purchase the lion’s share of Alex’s stock, rather than him selling it publically. At their current price, this would leave him with over $50 million in the bank, while retaining 10% ownership of the company. His vote would likely be the tie-breaker if the majority shareholders ever got into a serious whizzing contest. Not too shabby, for a guy with a small-town college MBA.
Maggie reckoned she’d have a bit more than that—maybe $70 to $75 million after the dust settled from the sale of her company.
This would be partial retirement for Alex—six months to a year—then he would pull out entirely. He and Maggie could take a month now if they wished; neither had to be back for work on Monday morning. They discussed all of this for some time, not quite believing how quickly it had come together.
Then she asked him to guess who they were going to meet later this year or next spring. She only gave him three clues. He’d heard the name often, he’d never met him before, and it would require a two-hour flight to get to the meeting site. Alex tried for a minute and gave up.
“That would be the President,” she said, smiling.
“THE President?” he asked in astonishment.
She explained her meeting with Comstock and his news about the Presidential Citizen’s Medal. He was so proud of her and told her that she was richly deserving of it.
____________________
“Mags, I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely not twenty-one anymore when it comes to our love life. Back in the beginning after we first met, I wanted you every minute of every day. All I could think about was us together in the old sackeroo. Now that my age has doubled, I must admit I’m slowing down.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Maggie. “My ugly fucking body made me dread being naked in front of you. You were so great about it—you’d actually convinced me you didn’t care, but it still bothered me more than I care to admit.”
“I sure get that,” said Alex. “I hated my gut and man-boobs, too. I guess what I’m trying to say, I don’t ever expect us to get back to where we were twenty years ago. But it will sure be fun to have short bursts of those days, and that’s what I’m going to try and give you over the next twenty-four hours. Then we’ll see how we do for the rest of the week. If you want to slow down, say the word and we can instantly dial it down a few notches.”
“Don’t you dare mister, I have been dreaming about this trip for months and I want to make up for lost time—several years’ worth,” said Maggie.
“Well, with that in mind, let’s get the show on the road,” said Alex, grinning lecherously. Ninety minutes had gone by and they’d finished their lunch.
Alex had made a number of arrangements, according to Maggie’s instructions. Up until now, due to the utter shock of seeing her again after four months, and her unbelievable transformation, all his afternoon plans had vanished from his mind like vapor. Now a bit tipsy from the Champagne, his arrangements were slowly filtering back into his mind.
In her Triple-A requests, Maggie had chosen this week in Key West because it was the annual ‘Fantasy Fest’, described as a ‘ten-day party in paradise for grown-ups’. He’d read extensively about it and understood what a great idea this was. She suggested that Alex research Fantasy Fest and come up with an agenda of things to do, that he knew she would enjoy. Today was the final day and would be the craziest of the week.
“Hey Mags, would you like to change for the start of your birthday celebrations? As much as I love your pub uniform, you might get folks asking for a beer and a burger all afternoon.”
As per her instructions, he had checked into the same hotel as her; today the staff would be moving all his stuff over to her room. They’d both pre-shipped their luggage so they hadn’t had to deal with it on their respective flights. But Maggie wanted to avoid being alone with him in the hotel room until later tonight so she could torture him with her new body for several hours. She had planned ahead to achieve this.
“I just happen to have some civvies in a case in the employee change room,” said Maggie. “I’ll be right back.”
Alex watched her disappear down the hallway, still marveling at her new look. Under the skin-tight shorts, her ass was as firm and shapely as a marathon runner’s. She was back in ten minutes, wearing an elasticized tank-top—sleeveless and strapless—apparently held up by hugging her bosom. It was only about ten inches wide, just covering her boobs at the bottom with lots of cleavage at the top—her stomach and shoulders were bare. She wore the tiniest shorts he’d seen in some time, made from some kind of silver lame, that hugged her upper buttocks leaving her lower cheeks quite exposed. It was a very sexy outfit.
Cassie came over from the bar and hugged them both, making them promise to come and see her again before they left. She said she’d drop Cassie’s case at their hotel—she walked right by it on her way home. Finally, off they went.
It wasn’t too crazy down near Higgs Beach, but as they wandered nearer to the intersection of Duval and South Street, they were shocked. In a citywide party-like atmosphere, the streets were packed with revelers of all ages from late teens to folks in their seventies. Many were in outfits that would quickly get them arrested back in their hometowns. No one was totally naked, but many outfits featured bare bosoms. After dark, the nether regions of both sexes would commonly appear. It was difficult not to stare. Everyone seemed to be having a grand time, utterly proud of being semi-naked in public.
A block further up the street they came to a motel barely visible from the street, surrounded by palm trees, palmetto bushes, and lush landscaping. There was a large sign out front inviting everyone to a pool party. Alex had left his wallet at the hotel’s front desk in a guest safe. He had a couple of hundred dollars and a credit card zippered into a hidden pocket in his shorts. He took her hand and led her towards the pool. There was a cover-charge—a young, attractive, semi-naked woman scanned his card and stamped their hands.
The pool was huge with at least one hundred semi-inebriated people standing or dancing to the loud rock music in the waist-deep water, sipping fancy drinks and beers. Hundreds more sat at tables around the pool. Nearly half of the women were topless; everyone was whooping it up and having a wonderful time.
“Tell you what, babe… it’s filling up fast. Why don’t you find us a spot in the pool and I’ll grab a couple of drinks.”
Maggie agreed and Alex headed for one of several little bars set up around the crowded pool. In minutes he had a Tom Collins for Maggie and a Corona for himself. After pulling off his top and stuffing it in a pocket of his cargo shorts, he headed for the pool. He couldn’t see Maggie right away but over the din of the crowd, he heard her voice. He was delighted to find that she’d pulled her tube top down around her hips and was standing topless in the pool with the water up to her navel. Alex made his way over to her with their drinks. In minutes they were chatting with the people around them like they were all old friends. Alex could see many of the men admiring Maggie’s boobs and body; he hoped she was noticing that, too. He couldn’t keep his eyes off them, himself.
Some kind of contest was starting up; a loosely run wet t-shirt contest that permitted any women who wished to compete, the opportunity to parade up in the front of the crowd to thunderous applause. The contest was a farce in that most of the women were already topless, but they still got sprayed with a hose so their skin shone in the sun, making them look radiant.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t enter,” Alex stage-whispered in her ear.
“Why not?” she asked, surprised at his comment. She thought he’d of been delighted to have her up there.
“Well, it wouldn’t have been fair, would it? None of the rest of them would have had a chance.”
Maggie was very touched and felt her eyes filling with tears. She set her empty glass on the side of the pool, reached up, wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck, and pulled herself up with her legs wrapped around his hips. With her groin grinding against his, she kissed him deeply right there in the center of the crowded pool. He could feel her tongue slip through his lips, probing greedily, and his cock responding, thickening and bulging the front of his shorts so she could feel it against her. The people around them cheered and applauded Maggie’s brazen display of affection for her husband.
After an hour they said goodbye to their new friends and climbed out of the pool as Maggie pulled her tube-top back up over her breasts. She smiled at Alex.
“It felt a lot better without it,” she said. “I hope I can take it off again, soon,” she said looking quite suggestive.
“I’m counting on it,” said Alex.
Duval Street was closed to traffic and packed with wall-to-wall people as far as they could see. A very unusual parade was just starting and they found a good spot in front of a pub to watch it. A waitress appeared and took their drink order—ten minutes later they were sipping ice-cold Coronas and enjoying the wildest, raunchiest parade they had ever imagined, full of semi-naked people riding floats, walking, riding bicycles, and having considerably more fun than the people watching them. It took three hours for the parade to pass because the streets were so crowded.
Daylight was now fading; it would be dark soon. In his research, Alex had run across some clients who had been to Fantasy Fest in previous years. One of them had told Alex about the most amazing restaurant and described a bit of what they’d experienced there. Alex had called and spoken at length with the owner, who just happened to be a fan of C-Soft accounting software, and was delighted to be speaking its founder. Alex made reservations.
It took them almost an hour to find it due to the press of bodies filling the street, but eventually they discovered the entrance between two souvenir stores. After passing through a narrow corridor of tiny touristy shops, they entered an open courtyard—the center of a block of buildings, well back from the street. A banyan tree arose in the center with branch trunks coming down every fifty feet or so, providing a canopy over the entire area. There were many strings of lights hanging under the branches, providing dim light to the dining tables beneath. They immediately noticed that most of the waitresses were wearing see-through tops that really didn’t hide much. And many of the women seated at the tables enjoying dinner were also topless.
The maitre ‘d found Alex’s name right away and took a few seconds to read some notes attached to the reservation. He looked up and smiled.
“This way Maggie and Alex,” he said. “We have a special table ready for you.”
He waved at someone on the far side of the restaurant, while he seated them at a table next to a small garden and fountain. A swarthy overweight balding man in his fifties dressed in an open Hawaiian shirt and baggy shorts, made his way over and introduced himself as the owner. He sat with them for a few minutes, explaining that during Fantasy Fest, most of the regular wait-staff take the week off. He brought in some ‘special’ waitresses to take their place. He told Alex that one of the reasons he’d been so successful with his chain of restaurants was C-Soft software, which had enabled him to create amazingly accurate business plans and analyses. He was obviously delighted to meet the man who ran the company.
A tall slim woman approached the table wearing skin-tight shorts and a skimpy sleeveless shirt, unfastened and open from her throat to her waist. Her large breasts swayed beneath continuously bouncing in and out of sight. Alex couldn’t but stare as she stood there smiling, telling them she’d be their waitress tonight. The owner stood, shook their hands, and said goodnight, wandering off into the crowd.
It started to rain, just a few heavy drops at first; then a heavy downpour, down through the foliage of the Banyon tree above. No one seemed to pay any attention. Both Maggie and Alex thought it felt wonderful in this ninety-degree air.
“Doesn’t that feel good?” said the young woman, holding her arms wide open as though welcoming the downpour. A trickle of rainwater started to run down between her breasts. She bent over and spoke to them. “I tend to be an unusual waitress; I’m very ‘touchy feely’—if I do anything you don’t like, just whisper and I’ll stop. My name is Billie, by the way.”
She moved directly behind Maggie and draped her arms around Maggie’s neck, while kissing her on the cheek. She ran her hands over Maggie’s boobs constrained in the tube top, now quite damp from the rain. “You don’t need that uncomfortable-looking thing in here, you sexy thing. Can I pull it off, for you?”
A bit taken aback, Maggie nodded and in seconds, Billie had raised Maggie’s arms and was gently tugging and pulling her stretchy top up over her breasts, shoulders, head, and upper arms, leaving her utterly exposed from the waist up. There was applause from people at the adjacent tables, who had apparently seen this done before. Within seconds her breasts were slick and shiny as the rain whetted her upper body. It only took Maggie a few seconds to recover from her embarrassment and find herself enjoying showing off her new body to all these strangers, and her gorgeous husband. She gave her dinner order to Billie, whose soaking wet shirt was now transparent and plastered to her breasts.
“These rain squalls come often,” Billie told them. “It’ll last a few minutes and then turn off like a shower. Enjoy it while you can.”
Then Billie moved to Alex and knelt beside him, wrapping one arm around his neck and giving him a wet kiss on the cheek. As she bent over, her shirt fell open, giving him a perfect view of her lovely breasts. “How about you, handsome?”
Actually blushing a little bit, Alex ordered. Their drinks arrived minutes later and as they touched rims, just as Billie had predicted, the rain tapered off and a few minutes later, they could see stars up through the Banyon.
“Here’s to a week that neither of us will ever forget,” said Alex.
“You’ve done a great job so far, baby,” she said. “I can’t wait to see what else you’ve arranged.” She raised her glass again. “Here’s to the Triple-A Pact—long may it prosper.”
Alex had an erection throughout the entire meal, thanks to Maggie’s stunning naked body, directly across from him. Several times, he felt her bare foot moving between his bare calves, working up between his thighs, and her toes rubbing his cock under his shorts.
“You have a cruel streak in you,” he said grinning, obviously loving it.
When they were nearly finished, Billie appeared at the table with a chair and sat down between them. “You had another request, Alex; I’m delighted to tell you that it’s all arranged. If you’re ready, I’ll take you to see André, our resident artist. You’re going to love what he does for you.”
“It has been an awesome dinner Billie and you’ve given us an evening we’ll never forget,” said Alex. He’d just slipped a $50 under the edge of a dessert plate for the tip. “We just need to sort out the bill and we’re ready to go.”
“Bill?” she said. “Bill? We don’ need no steenkin’ bill!”, and she laughed. “Seriously, Sam covered it—he said he owes you, so it’s on us tonight. Come on, let’s go meet André.”
They both thanked her profusely and asked her to pass along their thanks to Sam.
She led them through the restaurant courtyard to a little shop, with several people sitting on stools having airbrush artists spraying paint onto their near-naked bodies. Before she left, Billie gave a surprised Maggie a tight hug, crushing their breasts together, and a kiss on the lips. Then she did the same to Alex, before giving them a little wave and disappearing back into the restaurant. They were both stunned at how sexy that little act had been.
Andre soon had them seated in separate booths as he and another artist went to work on them—Andre did Maggie while an attractive young woman did Alex. Just before Andre started and with Alex just out of sight, Maggie removed her shorts, revealing a string thong beneath. The tiny patch at the bottom was barely large enough to cover her pussy and her ass was utterly exposed. Even though Andre was obviously gay, he grinned in approval and whispered, “You go girl.”
A half-hour later, most of Maggie’s body was covered with a large stylized orange and black tiger—her dark nipples, the center of the tiger’s eyes. Alex had an elephant’s face covering his entire chest, its trunk disappearing down under the waist band of his shorts and its ears wrapping around his chest. The young lady artist had actually pulled his shorts down so she could spray-paint down the length of his cock, making it part of the image. It looked surreal with his entire pubic area recently waxed and quite bald—Maggie had specifically requested this in her recent ‘pact instructions’.
Back out on Duval Street, Alex noticed that Maggie was essentially naked after removing her tiny shorts, now stowed in a pocket of his cargo shorts. The thong left precious little to the imagination and he could feel a tingling in his cock. He looked around the street and managed to ‘will’ the immanent erection away.
Now there were thousands of people jamb-packing the roadway and it was difficult to walk without bumping into someone. Maggie tugged Alex’s shorts down a bit so they rode low on his hips—the top of his cock nearly exposed. He could tell this was turning her on. Women they passed, teased about pulling open his waistband to have a peek down there too, looking for the end of the elephant’s trunk. He was enjoying the attention and Maggie’s reaction to it—pretending to be jealous.
“My Johnson will want to be painted like this all the time,” he said. “You can have a bit closer look if you like.”
“I’ll bet I can get that trunk to grow three or four inches longer,” she said sweetly.
They noticed lots of couples with their mostly naked bodies painted in bright colorful designs—it was amazing how a person can be so disguised with some colorful paint. They had to look carefully at some women to see their boobs were actually bare. They wandered with the flow of the crowd, the eighty-five-degree night air felt wonderful on their skin.
The older crowd had mostly disappeared for the evening and a more adventurous younger crowd was taking over the streets. A sign outside a bar they passed promised a wild party on the roof under the stars. They made their way up a crowded stairway onto a rooftop maybe fifty feet square. There was a band in one corner and a bar along one side. There were several hundred people sucking back beer, dancing, and having a fine old time. About a half of them were naked from the waist up—many more were utterly bare-assed.
With a couple of cold beers, Maggie and Alex made their way out onto the crowded floor. Maggie’s colorful breasts rubbing against his chest caused Alex to develop an impressive hard-on which poked rudely out through the top of his shorts as they danced together in time to the music. Nearly every man on the dance floor seemed to have an erection. There was going to be lots of spectacular fucking later tonight when all these folks got back to their rooms.
Back at the bar, they sat on stools facing the dance floor. There were at least fifty semi-naked couples wildly gyrating to the music. The band was playing a faster song now, so the dance floor hard-ons had subsided. Maggie and Alex casually stroked each other as they chatted to the folks around them. Everywhere they looked, nipples were being tweaked and bare buttocks fondled. Every man there was at the very least, semi-engorged. All the women were clearly enjoying checking out the smorgasbord of cocks on display.
The lady standing next to Alex was a good-looking black woman with big boobies and a nice full figure. She and Alex chatted while Maggie got into a conversation with the woman’s husband, a big black guy—both he and his wife were as naked as jaybirds. This guy had the biggest pecker in the crowd and every woman who looked at it did a double-take.
Maggie said she had to go to the lady’s room at the far end of the bar and off she went. A few minutes later as Alex watched her return, he had to smile. Numerous men leered as she strode through the crowd, her shoulders straight, her hips and ass slim and shapely, her boobs full and standing out firmly and rippling as she walked. The tiger’s face fit her perfectly. When she got back to her stool, he took her by the hips and gently turned her so she could see back across the roof deck. Hugging her from behind, he whispered in her ear.
“Everywhere we’ve been today—have you noticed that every set of male eyes follows your every move? Every man we’ve seen tonight absolutely ogles your ass and boobies. I get a hard-on just watching you. You are the sexiest woman in town and I’m so fucking proud that you’re my wife.”
As she turned back to him, he was surprised to see her eyes brimming with tears—he had not expected that, but he understood. This trip was proving exactly what he’d intended—that she was still a highly erotic, sexy, desirable woman.
An hour later as they were fixing to leave, it was well after midnight. An extremely inebriated guy had been hanging around, early twenties; big son-of-a-bitch and well built—like a defensive end football player. He struck Alex as the kind of guy who would get ugly with too much booze in him. The guy was just wearing white jockey shorts which made him look like a demented weirdo. He’d been drunkenly ogling Maggie for the past half hour and it was starting to piss Alex off.
The guy wandered by as they were saying so long to their new friends and ‘accidentally’ bumped into Maggie, grabbing and getting a goddamned good feel of her bare ass. Alex whirled and glared at him; called him a fucking pervert. ‘Jockey shorts’ took exception and called Alex a fucking faggot and took a swing. Being sloppy drunk, it was a wild haymaker.
Four months ago while Maggie was away, he’d looked up his old instructor in the MMA group he’d belonged to back in college. He would never be as tough as he’d been back then, but the refresher training had been just what he needed. He’d worked on moves allowing him to severely injure someone in seconds, in a street altercation. The philosophy was to quickly disable your opponent before you were injured, and escape.
That training kicked in now and Alex’s head bobbed back slightly so the guy’s fist passed harmlessly past his nose. With all his strength, Alex drove the heel of his right hand into the bridge of the guy’s nose, crushing it flat against his face. Bright arterial blood instantly gushed like mini fountains from smashed nostrils, streaming down his bare chest.
But Jockey Shorts wasn’t finished yet; he called Maggie a cunt and kicked viciously at Alex’s crotch. Alex had to spin sideways to avoid having his nuts crushed and then completed the full spin; at the end lashing out with an elbow with all one hundred, sixty-five pounds of his body behind it—driving it with all his strength and momentum into the side of the guy’s jaw. Even over the roar of the crowd around them, they heard the man’s jawbone snap and shatter. A jagged white fragment of broken mandible punched out through a jagged bloody tear in his cheek. Jockey Shorts slumped to the floor, out like a light.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Alex said in Maggie’s ear.
Later, Maggie would admit to Alex that as she stepped over jockey shorts’ prone body, she was seized with a powerful surge of horniness. Not having been laid for four months, and being pretty much naked for the past several hours, and dancing with Alex’s hard-on poking her in the stomach, and his sexy new body, had all caused a near overpowering randiness. Watching Alex pound the living shit out of this obnoxious drunk—seeing the man’s face and chest covered with blood—had caused an instant intense heat in her loins that nearly brought her to her knees. Her pussy was leaking fluids past the tiny saturated patch covering her quim.
She grabbed Alex and encircled him with her arms, pulling him so she was straddling his leg, shoved her pussy tightly against the front of his thigh. Around them it was bedlam, a crowd of people kneeling around the unconscious drunk, and dozens of panicky people surging around them, trying to escape, thinking there was more danger. Alex thought Maggie was traumatized over what had just happened, but she put her lips against his ear and whispered urgently.
“That was so fucking hot; I’m cumming baby—you’ve gotta rub my pussy with your leg.”
And he did as Maggie moaned in his ear; her groin grinding hard against the front of his lower thigh. He took her in his arms and felt her entire body vibrating as the orgasm swept through her. It only took a few seconds; anyone watching them would assume that she was frightened and he was comforting her. His cock was swelling again in his shorts.
“We gotta go baby; the cops’ll be here…”
He took her arm and down the stairs they ran, weaving between people frantically making their way up to see what all the commotion was about. He went first to clear the way—Maggie right behind him, her hands on his shoulders. At the bottom, he turned to make sure she was okay. She was a step or two higher and he immediately noticed that the gap between her thighs was shiny with her viscous slippery juices. He felt his own pulse quicken even more, if that was possible.
The din of mayhem from the street grew fainter as they picked their way through crowds of semi-naked people, a quarter-mile down the center of Duval Street to their hotel. Ten minutes later they were standing on their patio, watching police cars and an ambulance outside the building several blocks down the street. The elephant on Alex’s chest was streaked with sweat and blood spatters from the drunk, as well as orange paint from Maggie’s body. Maggie’s tiger was now smeared beyond recognition and looking sorry, too. It was after midnight and Alex suggested they jump in the shower together, to wash off all the paint, sweat, and blood.
“Just one more thing before we do,” said Maggie. She came to him with a glass of water in one hand, the other palm up. Alex could see a tiny blue pill and popped it into his mouth followed by a chaser of water. “I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping too much tonight,” she whispered in his ear a few minutes later, as they had a long naked hug under the streaming shower.”
Their private deck had a hot tub with an unobstructed view of Duval Street in both directions. Once out of the shower, Alex filled two glass flutes with champagne, and with the deck lights turned off, they snuck out through the sliding door utterly naked. Seconds later they were stretched out in the tub, the hot water up to their shoulders. Powerful jets of water from flush-mount nozzles pleasantly massaged their bodies. They could still see emergency vehicles a quarter-mile away, outside the club they had escaped a half-hour earlier.
“Can you imagine what Chrissie would have said if we’d been arrested for naked brawling in a Key West nightclub?” said Alex.
Maggie laughed. “Maybe she would’ve been proud of us.”
“Well, I’m sure proud of us. That was a hell of a birthday, my oh-so-gorgeous and outrageously sexy wife.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, baby,” she said, “And it ain’t over yet.” She turned to him, snuggling into a full-body hug, her hand searching beneath the water and finding his cock. She could feel it engorging and lengthening as she gently and slowly massaged his shaft and balls.
This was the last request on her list; a naked soak in the hot tub on the deck overlooking the street below. It was dark enough out here, that they likely couldn’t be seen.
“I’ve gotta tell you Alex, that was one of the sexiest things I’ve done in my life, rubbing my pussy against you at the top of the stairs at that club. I can’t believe how hard I came. I never would have believed that watching you beat the shit out of some asshole could be such a turn-on.”
“Me either. I thought you were freaked out when you grabbed me after the fight. Have you ever been turned on before by guys fighting?”
“One time at college, they put on a boxing exhibition in a gymnasium, and a few of my girlfriends and I went. It wasn’t an actual match so the guys weren’t trying to knock each other out, but they were still going at it pretty hard. We had ringside seats and could hear their gloves smashing into each other. Their sweat was sprayed over us a couple of times—we could even smell them. It was a very primal odor that caused something in me to feel a bit faint. I must admit, they made me very fucking horny. But I thought it was because they were all really buff, good-looking athletes; not because they were fighting.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. I know what I have to do now in the future to get you randy—grab some poor bastard and beat the shit out of him,” Alex said, laughing. “Seriously, I sure hope that was the last time—I’m getting a bit long-of-tooth for bar fighting. I got lucky with that piece of shit. I’d say with that broken jaw, that asshole is going to be in the hospital for a few days and eating through a straw for a month. God, that was ugly…”