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  • Bouncing Well Ch. 01

Bouncing Well Ch. 01

12

They agreed later that it was good that David checked his email so quickly after landing in Amsterdam, but it certainly didn't feel good at the time. "Oh, shit!" he said as the plane headed for the gate. "They cancelled the fucking cruise."

Elsie, who somehow still looked resplendent even after ten hours at 35,000 feet, had been searching for a breath mint when she heard this. She slumped enough that her face disappeared into the open Louis Vuitton handbag on the tray before her. "That was a joke," she said into the darkness. "Please, please tell me that was a joke."

He continued to read as he responded. "The cruise company in Athens didn't even have the courtesy to notify anyone. Zubby says she was checking our itinerary and found on the web that the staff just walked out of the offices, and the boat was seized for foreclosure."

She pulled her head out but kept her eyes closed and took a deep breath. "So what do we do?"

He reached over to take her hand -- no easy task, as the first-class seats were designed to give maximum distance from one traveler to the next.

"We do what we always do," he said with a smile. "We bounce."

As that comment registered, Elsie's eyes went from showing exhaustion to sparkling and excited. She squirmed in her seat with a quiet moan, squeezing her thighs together as her hand gripped his. Perhaps good things were soon to come.

Ten years prior, their honeymoon had been off to a fantastic start when it was suddenly rudely interrupted by the arrival of Hurricane Delores. Unable to fly out at the last moment from the tiny island airport, they accepted the shelter kindly offered by the villa's 60 year-old maid in a pre-storm moment of pity ("Ahyue ah go day'ya mi yaad" she said, then rolled her eyes when they 'didna unnerstand'. From there she directed with charades of pointed fingers and jerks of her head). Her concrete-block home was inland, far more solid and on much higher ground than the beachfront villa. They gathered up what they needed, followed her on the dirt road to her home, and arrived just as the rain began to fall.

While they maneuvered their carried bags around the sharp yellow tips of the heliconia plants that lined the path the back door, an attractive woman in her thirties emerged and helped her mother into the house. Even though he was bringing up the rear, David could not help but notice the way that the wind glued this woman's brightly-colored pareo skirt to her toned thighs and buttocks.

Ahead of him, out of his sight and therefore unnoticed, Elsie's eyes were similarly occupied.

The maid introduced them to her daughter -- though they later disagreed on what she said her daughter's name was. (He thought her name was "Marinette", she thought it was "Manerette". They didn't discover the difference in opinion until back at home without a way to figure it out. Whenever telling the story, each would use the name that they had heard originally -- not out of a desire to be argumentative, just unable to change the images of her in their memory.) Then they all helped out. Before the shutters started to awaken to the wind, lanterns were lit, food was on the table, and the box of bottles pilfered from the villa had been raided. The champagne was determined to be a perfect although unusual match with the delicate conch fritters. The delicious callaloo stew beckoned for the Sauvignon Blanc.

Soon it grew dark, and the older woman kissed her daughter on the top of the head and went up to bed. The daughter paused in the conversation as she watched her mother walk up the rounded stairs, saddened to see her mother's limp had grown more pronounced as the pressure of the storm enraged the arthritis in her knee. The daughter eventually explained, in a Caribbean English accent that had both of them smitten, that she always stayed with her mother during storms to take care of her. The mother, who would not awaken until the storm was wreaking havoc three islands to the west, would not have been surprised to find out that this was her 29th hurricane in this house, had she cared enough to do the math. She would sleep soundly, as she always did, upstairs behind thick walls and well-used shutters.

Lacking any chaperone and energized by the drama of the storm, they quickly bonded with the daughter. The next hour was non-stop conversation, filled with laughter. They all opened up more as each bottle of wine was uncorked.

By the time the palm leaves were clacking in the wind, the three of them were standing on the lanai, screaming their drunkenness into the darkness while leaning into the 70 mph winds. Marinette/Manette was wearing a white cotton button-down, and within a moment of walking out into the storm, her tits -- and they both agreed later that there could be no better term for such luscious breasts -- were on full display through the thin wet material. Neither David nor Elsie tried to look away for long, and when she finally reached out for them and pulled one to each side, the dam broke. Lips and hands were everywhere. Her nipples felt to Elsie like hammered copper, while the flesh around them was pliant, begging for more caresses. Both she and David complied, making sure to left no other part of her neglected in the process. Eventually the trio stumbled inside, unable to hear the wet splat of clothing hitting the floor, the walls, over the screaming winds outside.

Each of the three had different parts of the night that stood out in their memory. For Maniette (her real name), it was the joy of guiding the penis of a new husband into his new wife. David would never forget the two women, one atop the other, immersed in a passionate kiss as he plunged into one, then the other, from between their legs. Elsie loved it all, but remembered most awakening to subsiding winds, being in the middle yet unsure of who was stroking her nipple and who was cupping her ass.

In the morning, David and Elsie awoke to the old woman clomping around in the kitchen. Their lover was gone, off to make sure her flower shop had survived. They looked at each other, unsure what the appropriate reaction should be. They had never even discussed such a thing; Three days before, David had vowed to be faithful to her.

And as far as David knew, Elsie had never been attracted to a woman. He had much to learn about his new bride.

Their eyes that morning were full of fear, but were also bright with excitement. After a moment of panic, they recalled how beautiful the night have been. Simultaneously, they broke into laughter, more in love with each other than ever. They held each other tightly, realizing that they were both completely at peace with what had happened. It did not stop there -- the entire experience was so hot that they were both insatiable for the remainder of the honeymoon.

Neither was able to resist the almost constant rage of desire coursing through their bodies. They spent most of their remaining time in bed, in a frenzy of passion fueled by their "hurricane hookup." Even when her lower lips were chaffed and his testicles (especially the left one) was throbbing, they still could not stop themselves from seeking "just one more."

Three days later, they were walking across the tarmac to their plane, enjoying their last moments of Caribbean breeze, when they noticed a jeep pulling to a halt on the other side of the dilapidated security fence. "Goodbye, my friends," yelled Maniette, waving enthusiastically while leaning on the windshield. "You bounce good!" she said.

"What?" yelled David.

"You take bad, you make it good. You bounce!"

Throwing exaggeratedly blown kisses their way, she dropped into the driver's seat and drove off.

They had "bounced" together three other times during their marriage, all during vacations. Each had been like a switch being turned on -- suddenly there were no rules other than making sure each other was into the situation. Two of the three times involved more than one additional partner joining them; the second had been with multiple partners over multiple days. There had never been any regrets.

He checked his email again when they got into the Amsterdam terminal. "Excellent. Zubby sent info on the airport. The best bar in the airport is The Dutch Bar, 3 minutes away from here in the main terminal. There are shower rooms in the lounge in this terminal, two minute walk past that." He continued to read, and snickered. "There's a casino on this side of security if we get bored. Zubby booked us a room in the airport hotel, Hotel Mercure, but that's just a backup. She's talked to Albert at the Prinsengracht, and he's holding a suite for us in case we decide to stay downtown tonight. Our luggage is being held until we decide where we are going." He looked up at Elsie. "My god, I love that woman. She's the best hire I've ever made."

"I agree. I'm not sure how we ever did without her. Anyway -- show me the shower. I slept most of the flight and would kill for a glass of wine, but I'd like to freshen up first." She tried to run her hand through her mass of brunette hair, and only made it half way. Beautiful as she was, her current look was a far cry from what it had been when they left for the San Francisco airport.

Elsie looked at David, in his charcoal blazer and jeans, and realized that his short pepper-grey hair looked no different than usual. It was unfair, how much better men had it in life. As always, however, just being next to him made her heart flutter. She had fallen for many a man -- and woman -- over the years, but she had never yearned more for anyone in her life.

She took his large, masculine hand in her slender grasp, and pulled it to her chest. "If we can pull it off, I wouldn't mind showering together. You left me squirming with that comment before we took off, and not touching you for ten hours wasn't easy. I'd like to blow off some steam -- and perhaps something else as well." She ended her sentence by putting the tip of his pinky into her mouth and biting it lightly.

"And then, we get wine," she continued, without waiting for his reaction. "My bet is that we can decide where to spend the next 15 days by the time we get to the bottom of the bottle." With that, they joined hands and strolled down the terminal.

As it turned out, she was almost right.

Thirty minutes later, Elsie was half-way through an extended shower. David, on the other hand, had already finished, dressed, and was in The Dutch Bar, deep in a leather chair. He found himself rating how high on the blue-ball he currently rated. The quickie in the shower had been ruled out the moment they had entered the shower lounge. The lobby had been vacant except for the three people behind the counter. To one side of them was the women's entrance, men's on the other; no way to surreptitiously choose one or the other together. Their shoulders slumped simultaneously, but they proceeded to check in, then with a lingering embrace, they went their separate ways.

He finally arrived at the number four - on a scale of one-to-ten, not altogether staggering. That being determined, he took another sip and reviewed his surroundings. The bar was fine, nothing special. For an airport bar, it tried hard to pretend it wasn't an airport bar. There were no pictures of aviation-related subjects, just wood paneling everywhere, frosted glass for the entrance and low lighting from pendant lights over each low table. The bar was the brightest, with backlighting behind rows of alcohol, showcasing their fine selection. The only other person in the bar of note was a slender woman, perhaps in her early thirties, with a waterfall of black hair cascading first over one shoulder, then over what David considered very pert breasts. He looked over and smiled.

Her cheek pressed against the wood-paneling to one side of the bar as she gasped for more. Her shirt was off but one final hook of the bra kept it in place. Her skirt was pulled up to her waist, panties having been trapped at her knees as he spread her legs and entered her. The bra matched the panties both in style and in motion; wisps of crimson lace that jerked towards the wall each time he thrust into her. He pulled out of her and reached around, crudely dipping his index and ring fingers deep inside her. Her juices -- their juices -- dripped down his hand, drenching his wedding ring and dripping down his hand. He couldn't care less - he plunged in over and over, with her gasping in pleasure each time. He pulled his hand out and trailed it up her body on the way to her mouth, while entering her again from behind. Moments later, as his penis bottomed out against her cervix, his dripping fingers were being sucked into the back of her throat. She suckled his fingers with desperation, leading to full-body contractions that indicated an impending and monumental orgasm.

Amidst all this, he suddenly heard. A familiar voice say, "Hello, stranger. Is this seat taken?"

Elsie kissed him on the cheek and sat down in a matching love seat to his side, facing the raven-haired neighbor two tables away. He could almost see all the way to the top of Elsie's thigh through the side slit in her long black skirt, and the stunning short-sleeved sequined blue top failed to draw attention away from cleavage that could have awoken the European masters.

David blinked away his fantasy, shook to clear his head, then drowned the rest of his bourbon. Ah, yes, back to reality. He sought the bartender's attention, and once he has it, made a circular motioned in the air. Behind the bar, another Pappy van Winkle's and the glass of premier cru Chablis selected earlier were prepared.

He struggled to make small talk, but failed. As her attention faded, she looked around the bar. He noticed her catch her breath, before she said quietly, "Wow. She's stunning!" Elsie gave him a quick look. "Any luck?"

"I tried to make eye contact, but she's perfected the ability beautiful people have to pan across the room and avoid eye contact with anyone showing interest. With those looks, I'm not surprised."

"Yes, but honey?" Elsie leaned over and turned his head with a single finger under his chin and looked him in the eyes. "You -- no, we -- fall into that category. Beautiful people, I mean. "

He looked at his wife and realized that, without question, she was at least half-right.

They talked about the shower facilities (adequate) and the view from the lounge (he had not noticed) for a few minutes until her drink was delivered. They toasted "to bouncing", then held each other's glance as they sipped. Her reaction to the wine brought a smile to his face.

"Okay, I know this one. It's fantastic. What is it?"

He had been certain she would recognize it, even if she couldn't pinpoint it. "Côte de Léchet. That was the last place we went to in Chablis, 2009. The one with the càve built into the hillside like a hobbit hole."

She inhaled as she held the glass below her nose. "The one where you ordered three cases that got lost in customs?"

"That's the one. Someday we need to go back and order more." He sipped his bourbon. "I suppose that could be one option for the vacation."

"No. Screw that. I want a little adventure, not a little winery. We've been too sedentary lately; we need to sew a few oats together and burn off some of this energy."

He tilted his glass and responded, "Agreed. So let's start with what's off the list. In my mind, the Americas are out, we're this far and I don't want to go backwards."

It was her turn. "Agreed. And Asia was last year and three years ago, so I'm sort of done with that."

The discussion continued as their glasses emptied. Elsie kept glancing at the woman nearby, while shifting in her seat. "Yum!" Elsie said under her breath. "Apparently the eye contact thing is reserved for males alone. I just got a look that had a lot of promise."

David knew better than to look, but his erection, which had subsided over the past ten minutes, perked right back up again. When the second glass of wine was delivered, Elsie took a sip and stood up. "You know what? We need help. You okay if I seek consultation?" He slowly nodded through a knowing smirk. "Back in a bit?" The best thrill for him was hearing that last was posed as a question. She bent over at the waist and kissed David, then took her wine and strolled confidently over to their neighbor.

She asked in Dutch if the woman spoke English, then continued at her nod. "We're in a bit of a bind and need some advice." David stared straight ahead, as he heard her explain their story. When he looked over a few minutes later, he saw that Elsie had settled onto the opposite end of the couch from his against-the-wall fantasy, with shoes off and her feet tucked beneath her.

Not too long after, but certainly not right away, Elsie called him over. Soon after that, the bartender arrived with a bottle of the Chablis and two glasses for the two women. David sat across from them, and was included periodically, but mostly he sat watching his wife in action. As the women toasted, Elsie explained first that that Katarina had three hours left in her layover, then that she was from northern Greece, near Thessaloniki. That naturally led to their story of crossing the border into Turkey from there (which involved simultaneously insulting two Greeks and three Turks, one bribe for each group, and their "escape" on a donkey-pulled wagon). This time, however was different -- instead of both of them telling different parts of the story as they always did at parties, Elsie told almost the whole story as David contributed periodically. Throughout, Katarina laughed genuinely, riveted to Elsie's every word. As the level in the bottle - which the two women shared - lowered, the space between them narrowed. The conversation never quite got around to vacation options, but no one seemed concerned.

With no resentment whatsoever, David recognized his position as a third wheel. As soon as an appropriate moment appeared, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. After relieving himself, he approached the bar and sat, having another bourbon and having the same conversation had with bartenders by solo men throughout the world.

Eventually David asked about things to do in the airport. His smile grew as the bartender reminded him of the in-airport casino. He soon slipped out of the bar to put things into motion.

Fifteen minutes later, his absence unnoticed by either woman, David reentered the bar. He walked to the table, and picked up the waiting bourbon, his last for the night. Then he waited for a gap in the conversation.

They were entangled on the couch in a way that was obviously sexual yet just this side of appropriate for public consumption. The conversation was finally about places to go for the next few weeks, while their hands entwined fluidly. Pros and cons were suggested by both. "Barcelona is hot, plus the proximity to Ibeza," was proposed, only to bump up against "But the weather there this time of year is awful. Jordan has amazing diving," followed by "We did that in 2006. Nice, but the reefs are dying and I don't want to see how bad it is now."

He finished his drink, contentedly watching these women while barely being acknowledged. He soaked up their body language, and when their hands parted ways and both started to explore north of knees, he decided to break in. "You know, I drank too much coffee on the plane and I need to burn off some energy. " Katarina looked up, thinking this was the end of her part of the evening. Elsie smiled, knowing it was not.

"I think I'm going to head to the casino for a bit and see what damage I can do to the Dutch economy." Not hearing any resistance, he continued. "We're checked into the hotel here at the airport. It's pretty basic, but at least we have a big bed to use." With that and a peck on the cheek, he gave Elsie the card key, noticing that Katarina was slowly realizing that the best was yet to come. "I'll be up in about 2 hours. Don't wait up for me."

12
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