A Summer Vacation: A Wife-Swapping Novella (6 page)

She ran to the pool, as quickly as she could without making noise. She dove in, and stayed underwater as long as she could, all the way to the other end. Her body was tingling, the water felt sensational around her, like silk. Her thoughts raced: what the fuck had she done?

When she finally came out from under the water, she was still alone. She swam under the water again to the other side. Still no one. God, what was going to happen?

Reza's stare still burned through her.

When she came up a third time, Zahra's black heels were in front of her.

Helena looked up. Her stomach twisted in fear. How could she explain herself?

“You there,” Zahra said, and Helena felt like her chest was being squeezed. “Mermaid. Do you want some lunch?” 

She was smiling, one hand on her hip.

Helena looked around. Reza was making a drink at the bar.

She almost believed, for a moment, that she had imagined the whole thing.

“Sure,” she said, and Zahra, in a typically Zahra move, turned and walked over to a chair and sat down in it, as though the act of asking the question had been too exhausting for her to continue without taking a break.

“I had the worst time of it with Suisse Bank,” she complained to no one in particular. She adjusted her sunglasses.

Reza appeared and handed her a drink. Then he turned to Helena. On his face was a smile. Friendly. Unreadable.

“You. You should wear a lot of sunscreen if you're going to fall asleep in the sun like that.”

And then he winked.

Helena's mouth feel open.

Luckily Reza had walked away, and Zahra had turned her face up to the sky. “Oh Reza,” she said. “Don't nag. White people know all about sunscreen. And go tell Haley we need some lunch, will you? I can't be bothered.”

Reza disappeared after lunch, and Helena could feel that she was both grateful and disappointed. Grateful, because she could feel herself thinking and acting in ways that almost scandalized her. And disappointed, she supposed, for the same reason.

They had returned to the pool, and Zahra had been called away by Haley, the mysterious jean-clad “maid” and chef, who had brought her a phone.

Helena had settled back into relaxing, trying to steer her thoughts away from the brewing naughtiness in her head.

And then.

“Is it true?”

Helena had to fight hard with her body to keep the shudder that went through her from surfacing in a way that Reza could see. She probably wasn't successful. Just the smooth sound of his voice was enough to drive her wild.

The thought went through her head was that Reza wasn't supposed to be there. It was why Helena had allowed herself the indulgence of actually relaxing by the pool. With her top off.

Right? That was why she had done that, wasn't it? Not because she had secretly hoped he would come back and see her again?

Now her heart was racing, and she was positive this kind of start was terrible for her health. She fought to remain calm, and keep her eyes closed, and behave more like Zahra.

Zahra. That's who she should be thinking about. And Steve.

And not herself, not the fact that she could feel her pussy throbbing already, just from the caress of his voice over her skin.

What had he asked her? How should she act?

A long and awkward pause unfolded why she struggled to come up with a reaction.

She pushed her sunglasses into her hair and smiled at Reza, who was standing over her and took her opened eyes as an invitation to sit on the edge of her lounge chair.

“I thought you weren't...here,” she said. She realized she was topless, and resisted an urge to cover herself.

Reza gave a glance back at the house, as though he read her scattered thoughts and plucked, from all of the things she was thinking, the thought about Zahra. Zahra her good friend, whose half-naked husband was sitting on the lounge chair, tan and sculpted.

“Zahra's going to be on a conference call with the bank for a bit,” he said casually.

Helena's pulse began to race even faster, so fast she felt dizzy. Her stomach twisted, her insides went cold and hot.

There was no denying, though she tried very hard, that she wasn't having the same immature thoughts about Reza that she had about many a boy when she was an adolescent. That in spite of the way it would violate her wedding vows, and her friendship, she liked to sit in the sun and fantasize about Reza running his eyes all over her again, and that he secretly was attracted to her, and then even more intense fantasies than that. She liked to think of all the places she could hide away with Reza and feel more than just his eyes on her.

But now? Now that he was
right here?
Staring at her? And she was topless? And Zahra was “on a conference call” just a short walk away, in her giant house full of windows?

Now she knew she should do something, like stand up and get in the pool. Or put on her top. Or something. Anything.

Instead her thoughts were empty, and the only thing in her mind was the acute awareness of Reza's thigh being pressed to her ankle. The heat of his body was stirring her up sexually, a sexual pleasure that was somehow radiating from her ankle, running along the inside of her thigh, and pooling between her legs.

She found her voice, remembering he had asked her a question.

“What?” she croaked. “is..is what true?”

She watched as Reza produced from seemingly thin air a bottle of sunscreen and poured some of it into his hands. Was this actually happening? She couldn't tear her eyes away from his big, strong hands rubbing the sunscreen together. His face had an expression of...what? Pure confidence? Desire? Satisfaction? Control It was hard to say, maybe all of these things were mixed into the face her wore as his lightly smiling lips said:

“That white people know all about sunscreen?” And then her motioned with one hand, and she knew that he wanted her to turn around, and let him put the sunscreen on her back.

What she couldn't believe is that she
did
precisely that.

Reza's hand was smooth and gentle, but an undercurrent of wild strength was below the surface of his touch, electrifying Helena's skin. She felt an involuntary spasm ripple through her. It traveled around to the front of her body and turned her nipples hard. But she was lost to the sensation of his hands on her back.

“It seems to me you haven't reapplied,” Reza said, but it sounded more as though he had something like,
it seems to me I want to lie you down and fuck you.

Okay,
she thought to herself.
Okay. This is just a friendly application of sunscreen. After all, people need someone to apply sunscreen to their back. Friends do it, you can ask a kid to do it...so by itself this is not
specifically
sexual.

Of course it was not racing through her body in any kind of asexual way. She realized she was holding her breath.

His hands were moving in strong circles, ever-closer to her ribs, to places on her body that were not the sorts of places..well, the sorts of places a person couldn't reach herself with sunscreen.

As he rubbed the lotion into her neck, he stroked the lobe of her ear with his thumb, and her skin came alive with gooseflesh. Had he done it on purpose? Did he see, and did he know what effect he was having on her?

Obviously, by now.

He rubbed his thumb on her other earlobe, and Helena heard her breath escape her.

Helplessly, she closed her eyes. She knew she should do something, but as his hands moved around her ribs and inward on her chest, toward her nipples, she wanted him to touch her so badly that she was powerless to stop herself or him.

He cupped her breasts, and rubbed her nipples gently, as though he were still trying to sustain the illusion that he was clinically applying sunscreen. Helena felt herself lean backward and her back touched his hot skin. He moved his hands down the length of her body, and then he paused, making a big show of putting more sunscreen on his hands in front of her.

Helena tried to force herself to think about what she was doing, how plain in sight it was, how wrong...but she could only think of the white lotion on Reza's fingers, and how he was going to return to where he was last applying the lotion...down her torso, so close to the strings that held her only piece of clothing in place.

He rubbed the lotion along her sides, down to her hips, and under the strings of her bikini. She shuddered as he did, and she felt his breath on her neck as he slid his arms beneath the strings. He turned his hands inward, and his fingers stroked the super-sensitive skin of her inner thigh, down close to her ass, then back up. She felt her clit throb. She had never wanted anyone to touch her more than she wanted Reza to keep going, to keep digging beneath the fabric, and into her flesh, and then to push her onto her hands and knees and fill her up with his huge cock...

But suddenly, the sweet pleasure of his hands slid back up, out from under the bikini strings, and up her torso. “I think that should do it,” he said, in a low voice, and she felt him standing up.

Moments later, Zahra came trouncing out of the house, yelling in Iranian.

Jesus, thought Helena, as she unsteadily reclined in the lounge chair and pressed her knees together. What the fuck was she doing?

Zahra bitched by the cabana to Reza for a few minutes, and then came over to sit down by Helena.

“Darling,” she said, her voice like syrup. “I have to go into town and talk to these idiots at the bank. But you stay here if you want.”

Helena looked over at Reza, at his muscled back and his firm thighs, at the roundness of his ass in his shorts. A shudder went through her as she remembered the feel of his strong hands on her thighs.

“I...no, you know what, that's good, I should probably...go home sometime...” she said. She jumped up, wrapping a towel around her in a flustered desire to have some modesty. The whole spell of the crazy afternoon was wearing off as oxygen came back to her head. She threw her swimsuit cover on and slipped her feet into her flip flops.

Zahra looked at them in disapproval. “Tomorrow we'll get you new shoes,” she muttered. “Okay then. I will see you soon,” she said.

Helena waved at Reza as she left, and, as though nothing had transpired at all, he raised his hand to her. “See you!”

She drove much too fast at first, while she tried to fill her head with thoughts about her husband. How much she loved him. How she needed to put the brakes on all of this somehow.

But her thoughts turned, and she started to drive slower and slower, as she lost herself instead in the memory of Reza's touch, his staring at her body.

After all, it was just fantasy.

After all, she hadn't done anything yet.

After all, getting some sunscreen rubbed on you wasn't
exactly
adultery.

She drove right past her exit, and was miles down the highway before she realized what she had done.

6

Steve discovered on Friday that what he had optimistically agreed to after his delicious romp with his wife and her bare pussy was a party on Friday at the Tehrani's. And to stay over, so that everyone, as Helena put it, “could have a really great time.”

As the remainder of the week went on, Steve found himself enthralled with the new Helena: relaxed, sexually excited, and dressed to kill. But he couldn't help feeling as though something was also slipping out control. Maybe her, maybe him. Even though he was enjoying that she wanted him to eat her out on the couch or the sunroom lounge chair, and that her skin was smooth as glass and that she was walking around the house in skimpy bikinis, he couldn't help but feel disoriented by his “new wife.”

Friday rolled around, and Helena was already dressed when he got home.

“Hurry up,” she said playfully. “I'm starving and they have these great appetizers planned.” 

“You look...” Steve struggled for the right word.

She looked fantastic. She was wearing a black and white striped dress. It was skin-tight, the stripes were vertical, and the collar dipped so low near her breasts that he was afraid a slice of her nipple might be revealed if she moved wrong. She had given him a little spin, and her round ass warped the stripes in the back in such a pleasant way that Steve was certain no man would be able to stop staring at the shape it made. The dress ended mid-thigh, so it was not too short, but its almost conservative length somehow only made it sexier.

Helena didn’t wait for his adjective. She placed a hand on her hip and turned back to the mirror. Steve watched her own eyes travel over her body, and he was surprised to see no traces of the critical scowl that normally turned up as she appraised herself. Instead, she glowed. “It's great, isn't it? Zahra was throwing it out, and so I snatched it up.”

It was easy, and quite pleasant, to imagine Zahra inside of this dress. It was also easy to see her taste in it. Fashionable. Some strange hint of Eastern in it. Expensive. Not
quite
slutty, but almost there.

Like Zahra.

“It's...hot,” Steve said lamely.

Helena leaned toward a mirror in the kitchen with a lipstick tube in her hand. “I'm thinking of wearing this,” she said, and Steve watched as a stain of red-orange filled her full lower lip. Then her upper lip. She pressed them together and looked at him in the reflection in the mirror.

His eyes wandered to her ass, to the stripes that curled where her ass rose and fell.

“It looks great,” he murmured.

“The lipstick,” she said. “Not my ass.”

Steve snapped back at her face.

It looked great. The lipstick. And her ass.

“I...is it a little bit...?” he stammered.

“What?” she said, turning around and looking at him.

But the question was not tinged with her usual lack of confidence. She was not holding a tissue in her hand, ready to wipe it off. She was almost challenging him.

Steve stared at her.

She shrugged at his silence and turned back to the mirror. “
I
like it,” she said. And she gave herself a smile.

The party was just as Steve had both feared and hoped it would be: full, throbbing, boozy and fleshy, and ready to tip over any moment into wildness. It had that vibe from the moment they arrived. Skirts were short, very young girls were floating around in the pool and shrieking, and nothing was standing still. 

Helena left Steve alone almost immediately after arriving. “You're okay here, right?” she said, but she seemed distracted. Her eyes were on the pool, almost as though she were searching for something. Or perhaps it seemed more like she was at a frat party for the first time in her life. “I'm going to go look for Zahra.”

Steve leaned on the bar and attempted to look as cool as everyone else did. There were a lot of Persian-looking people at the party, and quite a few people who looked much younger than Reza and Zahra. He scanned the guests on the side of the pool. He could see that some of Reza's business partners or law partners or whatever else he had his hands in, were here as well. But they had the relaxed look of being well into the bottle and ready to let loose.

Steve ordered a drink from a bartender, and was shocked and pleased to find out it was an open bar. Jesus. The money on these two.

Then he saw them. His wife and Zahra, standing together, laughing near the edge of the pool.

It surprised him, because it was actually his striped wife's figure that pulled his eye to where they were standing. from the distance, her figure was silhouetted and looked flawless. Like a stretched hourglass. Even standing next to the very sexy Zahra, she looked incredible.

But she also wasn't alone. Steve watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as Helena put an arm on a man's bicep, tipped her head back and laughed, and then tipped a shot glass of clear liquid into her throat.

As if she did that all time.

Steve had a thought, and it burned as much as it excited him: perhaps this was his real wife. The real Helena. Maybe she had always been like this, always flirting, always doing naughty things with Zahra. Maybe she had always been misbehaving, and hiding it from him. Maybe what he was seeing here was not a conversion of his wife, but a dropping of the facade. 

Steve swallowed. Helena was standing close to the man, and then she moved even closer, her breasts brushing against his body as she leaned in and told him something in his ear.

Steve felt his cock pulse to life. It was too good to be true: this was his fantasy coming to life.

He should be happy.

But he felt a current of pain running through him at the same time. She was
actually doing this.
He blinked. Someone had put on some music, and the guests were starting to dance. Including Helena. The man she had been flirting with slid his arm around her waist, and they began to move to the music. It was a fast, upbeat tune, with some kind of Eastern-sounding tones to it, so they weren't dancing dirtily.

They were just very, very close.

The stripes of Helena's dress accentuated the sexiness of her swaying hips, her bouncing breasts, and her grinding ass.

Was he actually seeing this?

And the worst part, or maybe the best part – it was hard to tell – was that Helena wasn't even looking around for her husband. She was just grinding against the crotch of another man, right there in front of everyone, and she wasn't even looking around for him.

The man had his hand across her stomach now. She had turned to shake her ass against his hips. The back of her dress dipped low and showed off her bare skin, and that man's breath was probably against her spine right now. His eyes were dipping right into the fabric, looking through it to imagine what her ass looked like underneath the dress. She had one hand up and he was holding it, and her ass was bumping into him occasionally. He had to have a hard-on, Steve thought. She had to feel it, against her ass when she rubbed against him.

Did she like it? Was she doing it on purpose?

Steve tore his eyes away from his wife, and to the other guests at the party. Everyone was dancing. Everyone was dancing like that.

It was just for fun, he told himself. Everyone was just having fun. Flirting. Engaging in a little summery fun. That was all.

He caught sight of Reza, though. Speaking in low tones to a man by the bar cabana.

With his eyes, inarguably, on Helena as she danced.

That same, intense, possessive expression on his face.

Steve felt like he was getting punched in the stomach while someone stroked his cock. The feelings were clawing at each other and tearing him apart.

He moved to an empty table that had been pushed into a darkened corner by a raucous group. Around him, the music began to get louder, and so did the people, as they became drunker.

He watched the scene unfold. Soon enough, someone pushed a scantily-clad blonde into the pool, and then more people went tumbling in after her. People began to peel off their clothes, whether they were headed into the pool or not. The dancing got closer, dirtier.

But mostly Steve was watching his wife. In all honesty, he was sort of enjoying being tucked away in at the shadowy table, forgotten about and free to be a voyeur. Free to watch as the pretty girls began to strip off their clothes. Free to watch his wife, who seemed to have forgotten him, as she danced with one man after another. His cock was hard and oozing with precum already by the time a guy, who seemed very young, began dancing with Helena in nothing more than his wet swim trunks.

Helena was still clothed, but in that skin-tight dress there was nothing left to the imagination. And she was pressing herself flirtatiously against his bare chest, her head back, her cherry-red lips open as she laughed at whatever he was saying.

Quite a few men had positioned themselves on a low wall next to where everyone was dancing, and they all had their eyes on Helena. After a while, it was only Helena and one other couple dancing in the patch of grass. Steve watched as his wife swayed her hips and bucked her ass and put on a show that would have made a stripper proud.

Surely she knew everyone was watching her.

He knew he should probably do something else besides sit there, watching her, and watching the men who were watching her. He knew he should do something besides idly ponder whether or not his wife, all these years, had only been submerging her true self, and was now just being who she really was.

And why he liked that so much.

But he was paralyzed. His cock was solid and aching, and if he was honest, he was enjoying the scene more than he was hating it. He had a curiosity – a painful, almost sickening one – to see where this was going to go.

At some point though, after dancing quite wildly and sexily, Helena saw Steve and walked – a bit unsteadily – toward him. She pushed her sweaty hair from her face. “What are you doing over here all on your lonesome?” she slurred.

Steve shrugged.

“Well,” she said. “I'm going in.” Then she spun around and walked toward the pool.

It took a few moments for the words to sink in. Steve gave an uneasy glance at the pool, where quite a few girls were getting naked, and at his wife's low-dipping dress, and the lack of lines that might be underwear.

He was suddenly compelled to act: this was all fine and good when she was dancing clothed, but naked in the pool was too far.

He stood up and trotted behind her. As he did, he realized he was a little more buzzed than he had thought. Helena was standing by the edge of the pool, and Steve saw one of the guys grin as he looked up and probably caught a glimpse of what was – or wasn't – under her dress.

Steve grasped Helena's elbow. “You're not -”

She looked at him strangely, then rolled her eyes. “Oh god, of course not. I have a bikini in the cabana,” she said, and started to wrench her elbow away from him.

Steve wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved. Even as Helena had started to say “of course not,” he had been imagining her peeling her dress from her body, right then and there. No underwear on, just stunningly naked. Still in her heels. Colored lights splayed across her breasts.

Helena slinked away to the cabana, and Steve stood there, looking and feeling a bit like an idiot, as the many guests around him began tossing their clothes about and jumping into the pool.

He sensed someone standing next to him, and he turned to see Zahra, topless, holding a drink and looking out at the pool with amusement. Without taking her eyes off the many laughing, splashing girls, she held her drink close to her chest and said:

“You aren't getting in, I take it.”

She turned to him as he shook his head. She didn't have shoes on, so she was quite a bit shorter than usual. Steve's eyes dropped, against his will, to where she was rolling her ice-cold drink across her bare breasts as though she needed to cool down. Her nipples pebbled when the cool glass rolled over them, and the condensation kissed her skin and beaded on her flesh. A single drop of ice-cold water gathered on her left breast and slid down her skin, along her side, and into the dark fabric of her tiny thong.

“You always were a bit of a downer,” she said, playfully. She held out her drink, and he took it from her without thinking about it – Zahra had that sort of commanding effect on people. She took three sexy steps towards the pool, before she stretched her magnificent arms over her head, and dove gracefully into the water, on the side of the group of splashing guests.

Breasts bounced everywhere, and the ladies squealed and splashed water at each other.

Steve looked around helplessly.

He then saw what he had not seen before: only half the party was really this wild. Plenty of women were still clothed and sitting in deck chairs, caught up in conversations with men or a group of people, like an ordinary party. The panic that had been building up inside of him, that the party was disintegrating into an orgy, released. He also felt a pang of disappointment, but really it was more relief. Reza, who was still standing by the bar, lifted a drink toward him in salutation, and Steve raised his empty glass.