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Full Caribbean Moon

The Carpentaria palms danced in the trade winds as the couple strolled barefoot along the beach. Rivulets of surf danced among their toes, echoing the emotions of love between the man and woman, celebrating their twenty-fifth anniversary seven weeks late. The brilliant moon cast shadows around them, illuminated the white rocks and breakers. Gazing high into the southern sky at the bleached planet, the wife asked, "Is it full?"

"I don't think so," Will responded. "Tomorrow, I think. It's beautiful though."

"So big, too," said Terri. "Bigger than back in Pennsylvania, isn't it? I get the feeling something strange is going to happen."

He lovingly touched the bare shoulders of the woman, toyed with her spaghetti straps, felt the heat stored by the tropical sun. "You're feeling okay? Not too sunburned?"

"No, not at all," Terri replied. Only that afternoon, the first day of vacation at the Caribbean resort designed mainly for romantic couples, she'd sunbathed topless for the first time in her life. In an attempt to protect herself from the intense rays, she'd applied copious amounts of sunblock to her breasts and now the nipples, though strangely warm, felt wonderful. She recalled with pleasure how, behind her prescription sunglasses and wide brimmed hat, she'd spied on male tourists, secretly observing the sideways glances with which they'd taken in her bare breasts and the skimpy bikini bottom Will had persuaded her to purchase for the trip. Even though she was years past being a lass, apparently she was still attractive; the knowledge pleasured her. When she'd shared her observations with Will, he asked her which of the men she liked; it was a game they played, it was never serious.

After they'd returned to their room, Terri, still excited from the attention, pondered lovemaking, but by the time she'd showered and prettied herself for him, Will was napping, occasionally snorting in his sleep. She let him rest, reading her New Yorkers and home decorating magazines, then awoke him, suggested he get ready for cocktails, then a late dinner of fresh, native seafood. Afterwards in the dark, they'd taken a walk, exploring the lush tropical setting of the resort, before, she assumed, they'd return to their room for their traditional 11:30 bedtime, and perhaps, if she was lucky, a little passion.

But suddenly, the timbre of steel drums listed over the dunes, floating over the swimming pool, disturbing the tranquility. "How about another drink?" Will suggested.

"Fine," Terri agreed. "Maybe some dancing?"

"If you insist." Will didn't like dance floors much, they were too crowded, he felt self-conscious with his silly contortions. The couple retrieved their shoes from the base of a palm and rambled to the dance floor, partially filled with other couples lost in the tropical romance. The band played one of Terri's favorite Burt Baccarach songs, eliciting memories of teenage years spent with boyfriends. A table was found under an umbrella near the pool, drinks were ordered, a margarita for him, a Blue Jamaican for her. Before the waitress could deliver the beverages, the couple made their way to the floor and began to groove to the mixture of standards and reggae. Terri was happy Will was giving in so easily, and let her body go, as it had in the disco bars of the 1970s. Four or five songs passed, she could feel the welcome perspiration beginning to ooze from her pores.

"Had enough?" Will asked, when the local equivalent of a country and western song was played.

"Sure," Terri reluctantly agreed. The vacationers found their table, greedily quaffed their potions. A few songs later, the band began to play Ring My Bell, one of her favorite disco songs. "You want to go back out?" she suggested.

"In a few minutes," Will delayed, "I think I'd better hit the head first." Will often danced just a little, then called it a night. Terri was disappointed, she'd hoped to dance the night away. She noticed he was a little unsteady as he strode to the bathroom, the afternoon beers and the bottle of wine they'd had with dinner must be catching up to him. No matter, their room was less than a New York City block away. Let him get drunk if he wished. In fact, let him do anything he wished; they were on vacation!

For his part, Will made his way to the toilet, admiring the costumes worn by female tourists. One young lady seemed to have forgotten to don a bra underneath the translucent blouse; her breasts jiggled slightly as she laughed at a joke. He wondered if other men were lusting after his wife as he was admiring theirs. When he returned to the table he found new, but his wife was strangely absent -- perhaps she'd gone to the bathroom as well. He sat, watching the delectable nymphs swirling around him, admiring their wild moves as the band continued to play disco.

Suddenly, the blue and white swirls of his wife's frock caught his eye. She was on the dance floor, her hands grabbing at her hem, lifting it above her knees and showing a hint of thigh. It was an effective move, one that seemed sexier than it truly was. The crowd shifted and he spied her partner, a middle aged man donned in loafers, tailored khakis, a flower patterned shirt of questionable style, thinning hair. The music slowed momentarily, then restarted with another number from the 80's. Terri caught his eye, began to wander back to the table to be with her husband. Will waved his arm at her, an unmistakable gesture that could only mean 'stay out there, have fun.' She accepted the gift, grabbed the hand of her fellow partier and returned to the convolutions. Will realized the other man was a much better dancer than he; other husbands might have been jealous, Will was simply glad his wife had found someone who could compliment her.

When the band stopped to take their break, Terri returned to the table, her new playmate in tow. "Will, this is Jonathan. Jonathan, Will," she introduced. "Jonathan asked me to dance while you were gone. I didn't think you'd mind."

"Of course not," he replied. "Jonathan, why don't you join us?"

"You don't mind?" the man replied. "I wouldn't want to be a third wheel."

"On the contrary, sit down." A drink was ordered for the man, conversation ensued. They found out that Jonathan was down from Chicago for some R&R, and they in turn revealed how they were slaves to a large Victorian home in a Pennsylvania suburb, their lives as a computer technician and high school teacher. Still another round was delivered and the band returned, this time playing more reggae. It was clear that Terri felt the rhythms and wished to return to the dance floor.

"Why don't you take her out again?" Will suggested to Jonathan. "This isn't my kind of music." As he gazed at his completely faithful wife reveling with the other fellow, he was reminded of the fantasies he'd had for years. Perhaps this was the night? Once again she swirled and dipped around her partner, faux symbolisms of sexual attraction, and Will was happy she was enjoying herself. Jonathan moved with her, obviously enchanted with the woman. Three or four numbers passed, lively songs from the seventies, and the images of what might be captivated Will. The band played a slow song and Terri and Jonathan returned to the table.

"My turn," Will demanded. "Don't go away," he said to Jonathan, "we won't be long." When they were among the other dancers, he held his wife close, waited a minute, then began to share his imaginings with his wife.

"You seem to like Jonathan."

"He's a good dancer," Terri admitted.

"Do you think he's cute?"

"Sort of." It was a bit noncommittal, unsure of where the conversation was heading.

"Listen," Will continued, realizing he had only a few moments to communicate with her. "You know how we've talked about you being with another guy? This might be a good time to try it."

She reflected on the hundreds of times he'd fantasized about her making love with another man. Most of the time she'd played along, concocting stories of how she'd meet a man at a bar, have a few drinks, then go to his apartment and let him screw her. To her, it was nothing more than tantalization, a game, but for Will it was a craving, and once, more out of a desire to please him than any real hunger on her part, she'd agreed to go through with it, if and when. Since then, he pestered her from time to time, never insistent, always challenging. Was now 'if and when'? "You want me to go to bed with him?" The question was guarded, strained.

"If you want to," Will retorted. "You like him, it's clear that he likes you. We're away from anyone we know, anyone who will ever know us. It's the perfect set up." He stopped, waited for a response that didn't come, wondered if he'd overstepped a bit. "If you'd rather not, it's okay," he retreated, "but if you're ever going to . . . ."

She realized if she simply said 'no,' he'd bring her rejection up over and over again for years. "Let me think about it," she replied, just as the music sped up. "I'm not promising anything."

"Fine," he agreed. "Remember the time you told me it would take a strange moon for you to consider such a thing?" He waited for her nonverbal agreement, then turned her toward the brilliant yellow orb looking down upon them. "What's stranger than a full Caribbean moon?"

They returned to the table. Jonathan waited for them, and for a few minutes the threesome attempted strained conversation over the loud music. "I'm going to the bathroom," Will stated, and left the twosome to their own devices. He took his time in the toilet, giving them time a chance to get something going. Washing his hands, his attention was riveted on a vending machine. Considering that this might be something she'd need, he purchased a couple of condoms and put them in his pocket. On the return he took a different path on the opposite side of the pool, hoping to secretly spy on the couple. For a moment he couldn't find them, wondered if perhaps she'd decided to go through with it, that even now she was on the way to Jonathan's room. Then he saw them dancing again. Now she was even wilder, dipping further, showing additional cleavage, lifting the skirt higher, almost to her crotch, brushing the putative swain with her posterior. For his part, Jonathan responded, grabbing at the woman, placing a hand on her waist, pulling her to him. Heeding the action from afar, Will was filled with the sense that this time she might actually take a lover. For a few moments he considered just drifting off, letting them be, but then he worried that Terri might be afraid he was sick, would come running back to the hotel room looking for him, abandoning Jonathan. Besides, Will was intensely curious to find out if anything would really transpire, or if she would reject the idea at the last moment; he rambled to his seat.

Terri caught his eye from the floor, winked at him, but made no movement to return to the table. When the band began another slow dance, Will watched with glee as Terri melted into Jonathan's embrace, the plumpness of her breasts pressed into his chest. The pair seemed to lose themselves in their closeness, and Will became excited as Jonathan's hand descended from the small of her back a few inches onto the top of Terri's backside.

While she moved gracefully with the stranger, she pondered Will's proposal. On the one hand she felt queasy about defiling herself after years of faithfulness. On the other, Jonathan was attractive, not David Duchovny or anything, but he definitely had a certain savoir-faire. The fantasy was mainly Will's, but she shared a part of it, remembering with tenderness many of the men she'd been with before she'd met Will, the excitement they'd made her feel. Even the pleasure of the hunt, the flirting, the first kiss. What, she wondered, would it be like to be with a different man again? How would it feel to have his naked body next to hers, to be impaled by a strange penis? And she considered her husband, how excited he became in the bedroom when they talked about her in another bed; in a way, it might be gratifying to both of them to finally accede to his wishes, grant him the boon. Emboldened by the rum and romantic environment, she decided her husband might be right, this might be the time. Of course, she remembered, Jonathan would have something about it to say about it. - perhaps he didn't want a lover. And still she was nervous, concerned that, perhaps, in his heart of hearts, Will wasn't serious, was just playing a lover's game.

The music sped once again. Jonathan whispered, "I need a short break, be right back," in Terri's ear, began walking towards the rest room. Terri sauntered back to Will, sat beside him, put her hand on his arm. "That last dance was as sexy as anything I've seen," Will observed. "You'd like to be with him, wouldn't you? I can tell."

She made direct eye contact with Will, tried to divine his deepest emotions. "Are you absolutely sure you want me to go with him? Do you want me to make love to him?"

"We've talked about this, Terri. I don't know if you'll ever feel this loose, this free. I really think you should do it." A hesitation on her part. "What's wrong?"

Terri glanced down. Her words seemed to rise from the pit of her stomach. "I just need to know there's no danger here, that there won't be a problem later."

Will got the packages he'd purchased. "I bought these for you to use. Take them as a token that everything will be fine, okay?"

She smiled at the tender gift, gave him a quick, wifely kiss, and agreed. "Okay. If he's willing, I'll go ahead." Quickly, so that no one could see the condoms, she put them in her purse. One last time, not knowing whether she was hoping he'd say 'yes' or 'no', she asked, "You're sure?"

"Absolutely. I hope you have a great time." Over Terri's shoulder, Will saw Jonathan walk towards them. In another thirty seconds, he'd be at the table. "Listen, I'm going to get out of here, give you two some space. Good luck. If you're not back in the room in an hour, I'll assume you're going to spend the night there. Have fun. I love you."

"I love you, too," she repeated, meaning it as much as ever. And then Will was gone, and Jonathan was at her side.

"Where's Will going?" he asked.

"He's a little tired, decided to go back to the room. But he said for us to have fun."

Jonathan accepted the explanation. "More dancing?"

The music somehow seemed a little less exciting as the band wrapped up their final set. "No, thanks. I think I'd like a change in scenery," Terri declined. "Would you like to walk?"

"Fine idea," Jonathan agreed. Terri slung her purse over her shoulder and the couple left the music and the few remaining dancers behind them. As they chatted of how they'd found out about the resort, Terri tried to remember how she'd seduced men years before, but the decades had been too many. She wondered how she was going to find out if Jonathan thought her desirable, how she could communicate her desire.

They happened upon a wall tucked into a corner covered by a vines, adorned with the largest saffron blooms Terri had ever seen. She stepped to the hedge, sniffed a flower. A small reptile peeked its head over the top of the wall a few inches from Terri's face, causing a shriek, a jump to her rear. Luckily, Jonathan was standing where he might catch her, hold her from falling.

"It's only a lizard, it won't hurt you," he soothed. She continued to shake in his arms, he led her to a nearby bench. Together they sat on the love seat, and he asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she claimed, "just a little startled. But I like having your arm around me." She calmed, melted into Jonathan's side. He felt the closeness, her warmth, smelled the luscious scent of her hair. It was a surprise to neither of them when their lips came together, tongues intermingling, exploring.

Jonathan, not wishing to impose upon this married woman, broke the embrace, but she pulled him back, whispering, "Don't stop." His lips traveled to her earlobe, softly nibbling, and her hands, now wrapped around his neck, encouraged him. Soon his palms were caressing the exposed shoulders and throat, lightly stroking the soft skin. He sensed she was willing, and a finger brushed the top of her dress, traveled to the cleavage between her bosoms. She shifted slightly, and his palm was filled with her breast. A little shyly, still concerned about the wedding band she wore, he fondled her.

Terri became bold, placed a hand in his lap, surrounded his penis through the fabric of his trousers, recognized his exhilaration. "Let's go to your room."

"What about Will?" Jonathan had never encountered a phenomenon like this before.

"It's okay," she reassured, "he wants me to be with you. Please?"

Almost at a run, the impatient couple approached his room. As they crossed the threshold, Terri looked around the large room. Rich fabrics and opulent artwork decorated the apartment. She put her purse on the coffee table, took one condom out. The king size bed was considered, but she knew that was not where she wanted to be taken; something else, more exciting, should serve as their nest. Without asking for permission, she pulled the dr*pes back revealing a porch perhaps five feet above the sand, twenty-five yards from the ocean. Large privacy fences hemmed them in on either side, wicker furniture, including a large backless settee with high sides, garnished the patio. This, she suddenly knew, was where her ritual defloweration should occur.

Together they sat on the bench, soft light washing them from the earth's satellite. Again they kissed, passionately but not hurriedly, and Jonathan's hand crept under her skirt. He reached her panties and with her full cooperation, pulled them over her knees. A hand crept over her pubis, and she willingly spread her limbs, granting this stranger access to the portal that had been closed to others for over a quarter of a century.

While Jonathan was fingering her, she refused to be quiescent. His shirt was removed violently, a button flying from the threads that held it in the process. Suddenly she stood, grabbed the top of her dress, pulled it up and off her and allowed it to drop to the floor. Now, she was naked to her paramour. Turning to Jonathan, she straddled the bench, exposing all of herself to him.

Picture of a finger fuck Jonathan faced her on the bench, pushed her until she was resting on the arm, sucked at her outstretched nipples. A finger at first gently stroked her moistness, then plunged into the crevice. Terri gasped at this first intrusion, then rearranged herself to grant maximum access to the insertion, lifting a leg, spreading wider. Slowly at first, then more rapidly, the digit encased within her plunged in and out, explored the area from the urethra to the cervix. She allowed herself to respond to the stimulation, welcomed it, and began joyfully to feel the warmth begin at her vulva and travel throughout her body. When Jonathan massaged her G-spot, she gave it up, gently screeching as the billows of excitation competed with the ocean waves a few dozen feet away. Jonathan stayed with her, continuing to paw her insides until she begged him to stop, explaining that, at least for the moment, she was satisfied.

"Stand up," she insisted. She quickly removed his pants, dragging the underwear along with them, and gently held the erection presented to her, wondering at the juxtaposition of softness and stiffness. Her mouth went first to the sack below the rod, drawing the testicles into her mouth, sucking on them while her palms manipulated the staff, drawing the foreskin back, oiling the head with the natural lubrication oozing from the small hole. Then her tongue was at it, tasting the concoction, wondering at the tart flavor. Soon, to Jonathan's excitement, three inches of the tool was buried within her mouth, and she bobbed up and down, pleasuring her new man. She felt the strength expand within her mouth, and when she was certain he was ready, she released the penis and pulled him down onto the seat, facing her, each of them straddling the bench. A foil package was opened, the condom rolled down the shaft. Then she was on his lap, mounting him. The phallus slid easily into her saturated vagina, and she leaned upon his shoulders, first pushing herself up, then pulling down as completely as possible, plunging his hardness into herself.

Through her fog of desire she managed to view herself almost as an observer from the beach, the moon pallidly illuminating her skin, two thin white stripes offsetting her tan shoulders, midriff and legs, her brown locks waving with her hysterical movements, her bosoms flattened into Jonathan's chest, his breastplate stimulating her nipples with each movement, the muscles of her calves straining and relaxing as she alternately rose and fell on her lover, and most importantly, her vagina clamping onto his scepter through the cycle of lust, roughing her clitoris to excitation with every stroke.

Smells permeated her dilated nostrils: the salt of the sea, faint perfumes of night blooming tropical buds, an acrid, artificial scent of ammonia, residue from the cleaning woman, the aftershave and deodorant Jonathan had applied earlier that evening, and the powerful stench of perspiration, unwashed from the agitated dancing of earlier, and now, the feverishness of their joint rage.

Nor was her sense of hearing impoverished. Crickets and other insects buzzed, trilled and trumpeted, the surf thundered in the distance, breezes rustled the palm leaves. Her own breath came in short, sharp gasps, her lover whispered raucous entreaties in her ear, and obscene slurps emanated from the conjoined genitals with each stroke.

She concentrated on the sensations being applied by the man below her, how his hands stroked the large muscles of her exposed back, the insides of her legs, the swell of her rear end, the throat and her lips. She sucked on the proffered finger, enjoying the salty taste and the friction on her lips and tongue. She pleasured her hand in the locks of his hair. Then all sensation was suddenly converged in her labia, how it clenched Jonathan's wand, the twinge of pleasure each time his pubic bone met her clitoris, the deep sense of fulfillment at the conclusion of every piercing as her innards were filled with his length.

She waited for, she willed their orgasms to transpire and rapidly shifted from side to side and front to back, bringing forth the coming ecstasy. At last she drew the first tremors from the truncheon and placed a hand between them to better stimulate her distended button. Within seconds she sensed his relentless throbbing, perceived a slight increase of pressure as the lubrication of his cream liqueur spewed into the plastic tip, listened to the siren of his moaning. It was then that the spasms hit her, darkness overtaking all of her senses, replaced by flashes of crimson. Fever fumed through her body, focused at her tunnel, reached out to every extremity, the soles of her feet, the nape of her neck, and, most pleasurably, her aureoles, distended and rosy.

Terri's first thought when the pounding of the majestic climax subsided was of Jonathan's stiffness still plumbing her depths. Tenderly she fondled her newfound lover, thanking fate that he was more than competent and chose to be interested in her pleasure as well as his. They spooned together, kissing and fondling until the phallus within her softened and she was afraid the liquid would spill from the protection. She reluctantly rose, releasing him.

She stepped to the bathroom, dampened a face cloth and cleansed her belly, thighs, and the area between her legs. She rinsed the cloth and brought it to Jonathan, now sitting inside on the sofa. She cleansed him, moved one of his feet onto the back of the couch, the other remained on the floor. Terri crawled between these limbs, reclined on her side, her head on his shoulder. In this position they had access to each other's nudity, and they took advantage of it, kissing, fondling a breast, a testicle. It was a soft, mutual cool down period.

"That was wonderful," Jonathan said, his tone indicating so much more.

"I'm glad you thought so," she responded. "I can't believe how satisfied I am. You seemed shocked when I wanted to come over here."

"A little. The last time anything like this happened to me, I was in college."

"Tell me what happened," Terry encouraged.

"I was a graduate assistant. My boss was a full professor, she was married. One night we were working late, I was bent over the research results, and I felt her hand on the back of my neck. Next thing you know, she's on the desk, her skirt is up around her waist and we're going at it, the papers I was organizing flying all around." He stopped to smile at the remembrance. "For the rest of the semester, when I got to the lab I didn't know if I was going to get chewed out for sloppy work or laid. It sounds like something you'd see late at night on Cinemax, doesn't it?"

"And this is right out of Red Shoe Diaries, isn't it?" Terri remarked.

"Can I ask you something," Jonathan wondered. "Why me?"

"You mean, why did I leave with you?"

"Yes, why did you pick me?"

Terri halted, trying to isolate why, indeed, she'd finally agreed to go with Jonathan when for years she'd been hesitant to give in to her husband's other suggestions. "You're a good dancer," was the reason finally given.

It seemed to be a good enough premise for Jonathan. "Does Will always share you with other men? Not that I'm complaining, mind you." While he asked the question, he stroked her belly, cupped a breast.

Terri laughed. "Sometimes I think he'd like to. He's dreamed about this night for years. But this is the first time I've given in."

"Really?"

"Really," she confirmed. "This is the first time I've ever done anything like this."

"Tell me about it," Jonathan asked.

"Early in our marriage, Will was traveling, there were flirtations, my old boy friends would call me up and I'd go have a drink with them. But when they made moves, I rejected them. I'm married to the perfect man, you see, and I didn't want to mess it up. Then, over the years I stopped caring, didn't think I looked as good, all the men knew I was seriously married, no one gave me a second look. Then Will started asking me if I was interested in other guys. I wasn't, but talking about it seemed to get him going, so I let him. Then he started to encourage me, but I never had either the desire or a real opportunity. In fact, my desire for sex went way down after I put on quite a bit of weight."

While she talked, she fondled Jonathan's testicles, felt them tighten as he started to strengthen again. "But recently I've slimmed down, and I noticed I was getting a few looks again. Will spotted it too, we started talking about me having an affair again. I was nervous about it, didn't think I'd do it. Tonight when Will saw us dancing together, he suggested it to me again. You seemed like you'd like to, I decided to go ahead."

Jonathan added, "And I'm the fortunate recipient. Thank the lucky stars."

Terri gazed out the open patio door, saw Luna nearing the horizon and corrected him. "I prefer to thank the lucky moon."

She continued to play with his now recovered rod, less stiff than earlier, but still adequate for the purpose. He shifted her so his mouth could tease her nipple. His hand went to her honey pot, teased the clit, perforated the tunnel. Again they moved, he was on top of her, his penis resting at her entrance. "There's another condom in my purse." He held himself up, off her, while she stretched to grab it. Quickly it was rolled over the ready rod, he sunk down again, onto her, and slowly, inside her. There were no hurried moves this time, only the slow, sure strokes of pleasure. Terri wondered at this stranger she was letting violate -- no, succor -- her, and wished for their harmonious gratification. From long experience at this endeavor, she realized she was unlikely to come, but she still relished the sensations, the warmth above her, the smell of his body, the quickness of his breath, the manner of his passionate kisses, the gentle stroking of his lubricated penis inside her moist sheath. He shifted slightly within her, above her, searching for supreme penetration, maximum satisfaction, and she assisted, splaying her limbs, pulling on his buttocks, pinching a nipple, sucking on a proffered tongue or finger. Once or twice she felt he was approaching completion, and she encouraged him, but he would stop, allowing the moment to pass, then commence his exertion anew. She realized he was waiting for her, wanting her to join him in orgasm, and she knew that this position would not allow her that.

"Let's go on the bed," she suggested, and they unlinked, moved to the mattress. She knelt on the edge, presented her rear to her lover, he stood behind her. Just a small adjustment in height was necessary, and he entered her again, sluggish plunging that moved in different directions, even circles, that enticed her, excited her. She bent down, her shoulders to the mattress, and allowed the stimulation behind her to bring her to climax. The sensation was neither stupendous nor lingering, but there it was, just the same, and she was glad for it. She moaned, a little more loudly than necessary for his sake, then tightened her vaginal muscles to bring about his bursting. Quickly, she was gratified to sense the change in his movements, the twitching within her, and she pressed back, waiting for all of his seed to erupt from his opening. Only when he teetered back, away from her, withdrawing, did she twist and allow him to collapse on the bed, half on top of her.

The couple, now calmed, felt satisfied just to hold each other. They may have dozed. Terri felt Jonathan shift, move from the bed. From the bathroom, she heard him call, "would you like anything from the mini-bar?"

"I don't think so." Then she reconsidered. "Maybe some juice?"

"One orange juice, coming right up."

She felt him, more than saw him in the dim light, move to the small refrigerator. As he opened the door to retrieve their beverages, she observed the man she'd made love with, his privates joyfully lewd in the bright illumination of the electric bulb.

She stood, accepted the glass. "What time is it?"

"Let me see." Jonathan turned on the bedside lamp, got his watch. "almost five o'clock."

"Oh, dear." She stretched, working the kinks out. Jonathan enjoyed the sight of her graceful body, breasts slightly drooping with age, the dark patch of hair at the junction of her legs. "I hate to say this, but I probably should be going."

"You can't stay?" he pleaded.

"I'd like to, but I shouldn't."

"May I walk you back?"

She appreciated the offer, a woman out at night often feels insecure. "I'd like that, yes."

Jonathan retrieved their clothes from the balcony. A little self consciously, the spell beginning to dissipate, she pulled the dress over her head, covering the body she'd gleefully presented to him.

They stepped out of the love nest and began to stroll through the darkness. "Have you seen the waterfall?" he suggested.

"No. I saw it on the map, but we didn't get there yesterday."

"It's not far," he said, "come on." They turned a corner, the path ran close to the beach. In front of them, the sky was beginning to brighten, blackness merging to cobalt to indigo. Over their left shoulders, the moon, now nearly touching the horizon, shone goldly on the lovers. Three hundred paces led them to a slight drop in the level of the ground, soft electricity illuminated a staircase. The sound of rushing water competed with the trills of birds waking each other for the expected dawn.

Terri was ecstatic with the glen. The milky cascade toppled down a twenty-foot hillside, rippling a pool. Dozens of turtles napped on logs, fish stirred the surface, searching for breakfast. They sat together on a park bench watching the drama before them. The ardor of their togetherness was recalled, body touched body, lips touched lips. A hand crept under the skirt, through the fly. Passion began to overwhelm them again, and then, as if to say, "enough," the sounds of running feet, the warning of an early morning jogger, were audible. Quickly they broke from their passion.

"Really," Terri awkwardly petitioned, "I must be getting home now."

They took the same path back, past his room, around the swimming pool. White jacketed waiters were readying the tables for breakfast, the rich scent of brewing coffee wafted around them. The portable dance floor, the musical instruments of the band were stored now, waiting for sunset to infuse other lovers with their sorcery. Could it be only five hours since she'd met Jonathan, Terri thought, it seemed like days. Through the palms the last sliver of moon dipped over the horizon, swallowed by the Caribbean. The magic of the night was now, officially, over.

They strolled the path to her room, clinging to each other. "I'd like to see you again," Jonathan said.

"I'd like that too, but I don't know. It depends on Will."

"I thought he was encouraging you to be with me."

"He was, but that was last evening, under the influence of the night and drinks. We've never done this before, I'm not sure now that he'll want me to do it again."

"Will you ask him?"

"Oh, yes," she said, coming into his arms for the last, most tender, kiss of the night. They broke, and Jonathan reached into his pocket, took a business card from his wallet. "I'll be here for two more days," he explained, "if you want to, just come over and knock on my door. Or call me, leave a message if I'm not in. If we can't get together down here, or things change, phone me in Chicago."

"I'll see. No promises." They were now just a few yards from Terri's room. "I had a wonderful time," she said, "and I'll never forget you."

"I really hope we can see each other again."

"We'll see." She knew he wanted one more embrace, but it was time to bid adieu. "Good night," she called, walking away from him.

"You mean 'good morning,'" he corrected, and then he was gone.

As she stepped to the door, Terri's thoughts went to her husband. How would he take it, now that she was no longer chaste, pure? A wave of guilt began to invade her happiness, but she fought it off with the realization that he desired this, he'd pleaded with her to be unfaithful. In a way, he was as guilty as she, perhaps even more so.

She considered her appearance. She wanted to look presentable for her man, not like a woman who'd been out all night doing who knows what. Taking a small compact case out of her purse, she combed her hair in the tiny mirror, repaired her mussed lipstick. The rest, she realized, would have to be good enough. She unlocked the door, nervous about what might happen when she did.

Will was sprawled on the bed, naked beneath the sheets, just as he always slept, even in the dead of winter. His sonorous breaths proved he was dozing. As noiselessly as possible, Terri retrieved a skimpy nightgown from the closet, closed the bathroom door behind her. Another sponge bath, a brush of her teeth, a drink of water, and she was ready for bed. She crawled in beside Will, and he stirred.

"What time is it?"

She looked at the bedside clock. "Five-thirty. Dawn."

"Did you just get in?"

"Yes." She cuddled up to him, her back to his front, their favorite spooning position.

Will yawned. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes," she admitted sheepishly, "a very good time. You were right, this is something I should have done long ago." Although it was said with pleasure, it was also a tacit reminder that he was as culpable as she was.

"You had sex then?" She could tell that it was simply a question, not an accusation.

She twisted her face over her shoulder, looked at her husband of two and a half decades, kissed him. "Yes. Do you want to hear about it?" In all the fantasies they'd ever dreamed together, he'd wanted to know details, specifics, and she was prepared to share the evening with him if he wished.

"Yes," he begged, "if you don't mind."

For five minutes she laid in his arms, telling about the first kiss, details of how she'd become naked in Jonathan's arms, how he'd fondled her, and then, on the bench, how she'd mounted him, had this stranger inside of her, let him enjoy her, ejaculate into her. Her description was turning Will on, she realized, as his member pressed into her posterior. She wondered if he wanted to make love to her, and she decided she'd cooperate if he did. She'd never even considered having sex with two different men in the same night before, and the thought was a little kinky; she relished the perversion.

"What did you do then?" Will encouraged her to continue, thinking there might be more.

"We cuddled on the couch, talked. We made love again, on the bed. Later, we got up, took a little walk, and then I came back here." She was tired of the subject now, wanted to change it. Indeed, she realized that over the coming weeks they would probably dissect each movement; she didn't mind exposing the details, but not right now. She turned around, faced him. She kissed him, pressed her body into his, tried to tell him with body language what it was she desired now. "What did you do after you left?"

"Came back here, tried to watch a movie. I couldn't concentrate on it, I kept thinking of what you were doing. I went out after an hour, took a walk. Then I came back here, tried to get a little sleep. I kept waking up though, wondering about you."

"I'm sorry," she commiserated.

"Don't be. I'm glad for you. Can I ask you another question?"

"Of course."

"Did you have an orgasm?"

Again they kissed, passionately. "Yes," she admitted with embarrassment, "a big one."

Will's hands began exploring her body, her breasts and her engorged labia. She prepared to stimulate him, to make him feel as good as she had in the past few hours. "One more question, then I'll stop for tonight."

"All right," she agreed.

"Do you want to see him again?"

"A little," she timidly admitted. Even now, she was hesitant to concede, even to herself, how desperately she wanted both men. "Would you want me to?"

"Tonight is the full moon," he curiously concluded.