I am in a state of turmoil as I realize that what is happening to me should not take place. I set out on this extended vacation with the intent of sharing my thoughts and impressions with a woman who is simpatico to me and with the resolution not to get into a physical relationship with her.

Jan answered my advertisement in a local Boston magazine and me, poor fool, was beguiled by her candor and her sunny disposition.  I offered her the position on the spot and here we are in Venice, city of romance.

The romance hit us both like a thunderbolt on our first night at the hotel when a lonely and disoriented Jan crept into my adjoining room and into my bed, seeking reassurance. I woke in the morning with her body snuggled against mine and the situation changed from platonic to play, which is a tonic to an old fool like me.

Her words after a morning of intense passion still ring in my mind like the chimes of St Marks’s Cathedral.

“I love you.”

She is too young, and I am too old… I think. I don’t want to feel too attached to her as I can see no long term upside to our involvement. She will sooner or later meet a man who is of an appropriate age and I again will be left alone.

For the next two days, we did the grand tour of Venice’s sights; St Mark’s Basilica, The Dodge’s Palace, and The Bridge of Sighs. We rode gondolas down the Grand Canal and under the Rialto Bridge. The Tintoretto paintings at the ‘Scuola Grande di San Rocco’ captivate Jan, and it’s a joy to see her excitement. A fast Vaporetto ride takes us to Murano, where we feast our eyes on the works produced by their master glassblowers.

We laugh, and sample the finest restaurants and spent our nights making passionate love.

oOo

I decide to make a call to Joan, my ex-executive assistant who retired at the same time I did, and who had met Jan. Joan has known me for years and had also known my wife before she passed away. I trust her judgment and feel the need to unburden myself to someone who would not be judgemental.

“Joan, it’s Robert, how are you doing?”

“Well, Robert, this is an expected surprise. Thank you I’m fine.”

“What do you mean, an expected surprise?’

“Well, I expected this call. However, I’m surprised it came this soon. You didn’t waste any time did you?”

“You know what I am going to tell you?”

“Absolutely! She is already or is in the process of falling in love with you, and you are scared shitless. Your mind is reeling and you waver between intense passion and extreme guilt.”

“Yes, but how did you know?”

“Robert, it was fated from the start. She could be the twin of your wife when she was that age. She is a stunning passionate woman, and she is fun to be with. That is why you are falling in love with her. Because you are a singularly ethical and moral person, you are both afraid of hurting her and afraid to be hurt by her. Right?”

“Yes. That about sums up the situation. What should I do?”

“Enjoy what you have and let tomorrow take care of itself. If you don’t, you will have regrets for the rest of your life. She is not a gold digger and you will have to trust that you and she will come to a solution. Now you old fool go and take care of yourself.”

oooOooo

A chime cues the Pavlovian clacking of released seat belts. Across the aisle, matching Armani suits unlatch attaches and confer over pages of fine print. To my right, Robert dozes in the posh leather lap of the First Class cabin.

I smile at the wages of an energetic night in bed, and my face flushes under the ozone draft like a Murano artisan's kiln, fired by the memory of hands and mouths forming, shaping, spinning sparks from each other's flesh.

The sixty-five-minute layover at DaVinci/Fiumicino is behind us. So is the dream that was our time in Venice: a watercolor shimmering through the first fever of mutual attraction, where hand in hand, Robert and I paid reverent homage in museums by day and then disappeared into sweet, profane after-hours exhibitions of our own.

Over the savory risotto at Cafe Florian, Robert made good on his promise to tell me the story behind his amusement when I speculated on what would happen if he were to take me in front of our hotel room window for all on the Grand Canal to see.

"You've heard of Silvana Beretta?" Robert set down his prosecco.

I nodded at the mention of the Italian cinema legend. Who hadn't?

"Well, about ten years ago, she was staying on the floor directly above us. Novitsky was her lover at the time and--"

"You're kidding!" I gushed in disbelief. The rock star must have been half Ms. Beretta's age. "I'm sorry... please go on."

"Word is, one afternoon she had a few too many Gallianos, stripped to her birthday suit right in front of the picture window, bent over and dared her boy-toy to take a ride. He did... and drove in his twelve-inch equipment until those famous Beretta ta-tas were bouncing against the glass. Caused a twenty-gondola pileup on the Canal once someone figured out exactly who was getting shagged in broad daylight."

Our server, who'd been approaching the table with a water pitcher, discreetly backed away with a smirk. I giggled into the napkin. "And all publicity is good publicity?"

"Not only were the exhibitionists not evicted, but that suite has commanded double its going rate ever since. And now that you know, I suggest you finish your risotto before it gets cold. Then," with a wink that caused me to glaze the Rigby & Peller French knickers, "we can discuss the possibility of a re-enactment when we get back."

Our whirlwind of sightseeing and lovemaking kept me from overthinking about what was developing between us.

Now, in the antiseptic white noise of First Class, the Venetian replay pauses.

I love you.

If only I hadn't let those words bleed into our sated silence that first morning, Robert and I made the leap from travel acquaintances to passionate lovers. Was it a reflex? A natural impulse upon floating back to earth after orgasmic fireworks? Couldn't I have just said, "Thank you"?

In my defense, what a ride it had been. Robert had made me come at least four times in the king bed and marble bath of the Palazzi. And in between, he made me laugh, something I treasured after having to tiptoe over the ground glass of Jake's moods for so long.

Jake! In three years, I'd never said such a thing to him. Love had been his wife's rightful claim, not mine. And even though Robert's wife has been gone for five years, I think of it as her claim still.

But what's not to love about Robert? The hostess in the Air Italia lounge couldn't take her Sophia Loren eyes off him as we sipped Marocchinos and Robert explained how the airport, even before its official opening, was first utilized during the Rome Olympics. He's attractive, intelligent, engaging and considerate and... well, he could have any woman he wants.

What must he think, hearing such foolishness from a waitress he'd met not two weeks before? At the very least, it was a violation of our no-strings-attached principle. We'd agreed to pleasure each other. What did 'love' have to do with any of that? Love is what Robert had with Marjorie, not some pickup from a Globe Classified ad.

Robert's advert was for a travel companion, not a lifetime one. When the trip is over, he will send me home and pursue women like Joan, who are far more suitable. It's something I need to keep in mind, no matter how intense the meltdown of my body and mind when he touches me.

Careful not to wake my seatmate, I accept a ginger ale from the flight attendant and ignore the wink and intrusive whiff of Drakkar Noir from one of the Armani suits as he rises for a restroom break.

Through the headset, a familiar tune sends my spirits soaring. It's the very song I'd heard Cassandra Carter perform the night my parents took me to see the Pops. The featured soloist's lyric of jet-set lovers and their shared appetite for adventure rivets all my senses anew. I drink in the quiet beauty of the teal sea, inhale the soothing freshness of Robert's Virgin Island Water cologne and shiver in time with each enunciated desire.

By the time Ms. Carter's voice fades like a dream from which I'm trying not to wake, I feel confident that Robert has taken the slipped words in stride and has long dismissed them from his thoughts.

We're here now in this once-in-a-lifetime place, and while it lasts, we will enjoy the experience to the fullest.

oOo

Jan squeals, “Robert, look at the ocean. Look at how blue and how the sun shimmers off the water.”

We are landing at Athens International Airport, Eleftherios Venizelos. I reach for her hand and hold it between both of mine. “That’s the Aegean Sea. Do you like swimming and beaches?” I ask.

“Robert, if reincarnation were to happen, I’d want to come back as a mermaid.”

“After we spend a day in Athens, I’m taking you to visit some of the islands. I dare say you will get some beach and water time.”

“How lovely, Robert. I will greatly enjoy the warm waters. I only know the cold waters of the New England coast so far. It will be nice to be able to swim for more than ten minutes before getting hypothermic.”

“Well honey, in any case, I will be there to warm you if you get cold.”

“Oh, you dirty old man. Do I read your intent correctly?”

“It depends on you, you know...”

“Does it now?”

“If you offer your honor, rest assured, I will gladly honor your offer.”

“And will that mean that you will be on ‘er and off ‘er all night long?”

“Unless you have other plans, my darling,” he said with a broad smile.

Once out of the airport I hail a taxi and in my rusty Greek give him our destination. I sit in the back with Jan curled in the crook of my arm as she looks curiously out of the window.

“Robert, where are the ruins and the other antiquities. This looks so different from what I expected. Where are we going?”

“We’re off to a house I own in a suburb called Kifisia just outside the city. Tomorrow we will visit the city and the sites in Athens.”

I had called ahead and had the house aired and readied for us. When the cab dropped us off, Jan stood there wide-eyed gawking at the elegant villa in front of her. I lead her into the foyer as the cab driver carries our luggage in.

“Robert, this place is huge,” Jan blurts as I show her through the house. “There’s even a swimming pool in the garden. Oh, Robert, I would love to do a couple of laps to cool off and stretch my muscles.”

“Of course, just get changed into your bathing suit and I will join you in a few minutes.”

While Jan is changing, I confer with Staphis, my Greek factotum, who manages my affairs and properties in Greece. I ask him about supper and he informs me that due to the short notice of our arrival he has made reservations at a local restaurant, the Eleas Gi, for us tonight. He also has set up a limo for our tour of Athens tomorrow.

I change into my swimming trunks and step out on the veranda to watch Jan gliding through the water. I stare with enchantment at her behind as it sways back and forth with each powerful stroke.

I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that she said she loves me. She finally glides to the side of the pool and looks up at me with a smile, “This feels so good are you going to join me?” she asks.

“Nah, I just want to stand here looking at you. You look like a mermaid. I love the way the water glistens in your hair and the way your body undulates in the water as you swim.”

“Come on, you rampant satyr. Jump in and I’ll show you the pleasures of cavorting with a wannabe mermaid.”

As I hit the water, she wraps herself around me and our lips meet in a passionate kiss. I feel her hands wrap themselves around my body as I, in turn, caress her fabulous ass.

“Is that for me?” she asks as she grinds her pelvis against my tumescent erection.

“All yours,” I answer as I release her breast from her bikini top and greedily suck on her hard nipple.

Her moan of delight stirs my blood even further when I suddenly remember that I have asked Staphis to bring out some drinks for us.

“Honey, we have to wait till later I don’t want to shock the servants.”

The look of disappointment on her face is palpable as she reluctantly disengages from me and stuffs her breast back into the confines of her bikini.

I take her hand as she levitates out of the pool and ask Staphis to bring the drinks to the bedroom instead of to the veranda.

Once Staphis leaves the bedroom after serving us the cold lemonade and polar seltzer concoction I had requested him to prepare, I turn to Jan, who is sitting on the bed in her bathing suit staring at me. “What’s up bright eyes? Why are you looking at me like that with those bewildered eyes?”

“Robert, I just don’t understand what you see in me?

“What do you mean by that?”

”I’m just an ex-waitress of no particular class or merit. I have been a loser all my life and I certainly don’t merit the attention of a man such as yourself.”

Now it’s my turn to stare at her in bewilderment and to try to come to grips with my feelings and my thoughts. My emotions were simple. This woman stirs feelings in me I had thought never to experience again.  My thoughts were more complicated. Was I doing her an injustice due to our differences in age in getting involved with her?

“Jan, I don’t think you realize who or what you are. You have managed to acquire more class in your little finger than do women who have had all the advantages of posh families, education and opportunities. Your mind and soul are a rarity in today’s women. You are loving, caring, and intelligent.

Stand up and come here,” I said, getting her to stand in front of the mirror. “Look at yourself. I will try to show you what I see in you on the physical side.”

“You have glistening and smiling eyes, which look at the bright side of things. Your lips just beg to be kissed while your face is utter perfection. Those legs are elegant and perfect.”

I proceeded to take off her bikini top and free her breasts. “Those small breasts and succulent nipples just beg to be caressed, fondled, pinched and sucked.”

Her face turns red as I proceed to match my words with the appropriate actions to emphasis my words. Soon she is writhing in place as I toy with her luscious baubles.

Slipping my hand in her bikini bottoms, I proceed to finger her now moist vagina. I gently parted her small nether lips and run my finger first down the sides before slowly inserting a finger into her. She’s dripping with her juices. I take my fingers and bring them to her mouth.

“Taste yourself. Your savour and scent are an aphrodisiac to me,” I say, bringing them to my lips after she’s had an opportunity to sample them.

“Robert, please take me to bed and make love to me,” she pleads.

I lift her in my arms and carry her to the king-sized bed where I proceed to remove her bottoms and place her in the center of the bed.

She takes my penis in her hand and guides me into her welcoming pussy as she draws back and spread her knees.

I am enveloped by her clinging, moist and velvety folds and am soon sawing in and out of her to the accompaniment of her moans and gasps of pleasure.

“Robert, fuck me hard I need this so much.”

I place my hands under her hips and cradling her magnificent ass I give her all I have. I bring my fingers to her small rear orifice and am delighted to see that she welcomes the attention as she begs me to finger her there.

Soon her moans become more impassioned as she rides closer and closer to her orgasm. I can feel the throb of my penis as I resist coming. I want her to climax before I do.  She finally clenches around me more tightly and I feel her warm juice bath my cock. That sets me off and I reciprocate by flooding her with my cum.

We lie there side by side panting and gasping for breath. Jan rolls to the side and kisses me passionately.

“Thank you, my love, for those kind words and this greatest of all gifts, bringing me such pleasure.”

“I should be the one thanking you. This old man has not had to resort to pharmaceutical products to make love to you. Look,” I said, “already ready for more,” I say, indicating my still rampant appendage. “You do that to me.”

“Well, I’m glad to be able to arouse you this way.”

oOo

After a brief nap I wake my darling up. “Get up lazy bones. Time to go and eat.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost nine o’clock.”

“That late. Is it not too late?”

“Honey, this is Greece, not Boston. They don’t roll up the sidewalks at sunset. People eat at ten o’clock around here.”

“Really? Where are we going and what do I wear?”

“Just slacks and a top. We are going to a Taverna.”

“A tavern?”

“No a Taverna. Come, you’ll see.”

We entered the Taverna through the kitchen area. In refrigerated counters, I showed her the items that were being offered for the night.

“Robert, it all smells and looks scrumptious. However, I don’t recognize most of the dishes. Why don’t you order for us.”

“One of the things I love is mezedakia. Those are appetizers. They can be eaten as starters or as a meal. Let me choose my favorites and you can decide which you like.”

I place an order for dolmadakia (stuffed vine leaves with lemon), trophies (cheese wrapped and baked in filo dough), spinatopika (the spinach version of tiropites), salicaria (tiny snails in tomato sauce), along with the accompaniment of Greek Salad and olives.

We sit outside on the veranda with the smell of Jasmin wafting from the taverna’s garden. Jan’s eyes ogle when the myriad dishes are placed on our table by the waiter. ”All of that? Just for the two of us?”

“Yes, but we have to leave room for dessert.”

“What’s dessert?”

“You actually have a choice. Baklava or each other. I leave it to you to choose.”

“The choice is made. I want you.”

“Good choice as I will want to savour you to the full also.”

“Jan started picking at her food, but after tentatively sampling, she was soon wolfing down everything including the snails which she had initially looked at with disdain.

I explained to her our plans for tomorrow to visit the museum and the antiquities before flying to Crete on the late afternoon plane.

oOo

Compared to the Cypriot Antiquities' gold and cobalt dazzle, New Acropolis is a minimalist shock of glass-grid and steel-gray concrete concourses inlaid with blocks the color of white chocolate: the Parthenon frieze’s equestrian topography, the Metopes’ combative Satyrs. Now, in the equally monochromatic salon dedicated to the Erechtheion, Robert and I take our longest pause so far.

"Gorgeous boobs." I keep my eyes elevated and tilt sideways so Robert can hear me above the avian-sharp, multilingual awe ricocheting from all angles.

"Good eye, Jan," Robert concurs. Except his trajectory scopes out a female tourist whose bountiful endowment is Saran-wrapped in a violet tube top. She raises her phone and purses garnet lips for a selfie.

"Oh, her too. Very impressive. But I was referring to her," and I nod toward a statuesque Caryatid whose sculpted breasts project pointedly beneath the folds of her peplos without assistance from Bali. Her arms might be gone and her lips and nose, a mask of erosion, but the girls retain their iced-cupcake appeal. Four other marble maidens join her in stoic stances on the platform.

"That's why you'll hear it pronounced 'Erect-theion.' These ladies not only held up a porch but probably raised male appendages all over Athens."

"I’ll take that challenge on a more singular scale." I insinuate a discreet palm into the warm front pocket of Robert's jeans, wriggle my fingers, then withdraw and gesture with open-handed innocence. "What's with the empty spot between those two? And why is the one in back in such a sorry state?" I point to the pathetic headless form pieced together with metal rods and cement. “Even the girding of her gown is missing, poor thing.”

"The Earl of Elgin, greedy Scot, decided he wanted one for his mansion. Not content with just one, he tried to have the second one taken out, and you're looking at the result."

"What nerve, and what a sacrilege."

"Don't be too tough on the horny lord. There was no such thing as blow-up dolls in 1800.”

I bite my lip but continue to study the sculpture. “Please don’t make me laugh, Robert. There’s too much of an echo in here.”

“Don’t let that stop you. I like your laugh. Besides, that’s what you get for being a tease.”

“Can I help it after last night? And yesterday, in the pool? And the day before...I haven’t felt so...frisky...in the longest time...”

Glued to her handheld screen like Narcissus to the pond, Purple Selfie stifles a yawn and struts toward the adjoining room of artifacts, forcing those in her path to fork and reconnect like rapids around a logjam. Her departure gives me a new boldness.

“How many times do you suppose the Earl got, um, inspired by his acquisition? Or did he need her to get in the mood for Mrs. Earl?"

"Countess," Robert chuckles with affection. "As I recall, his wife at the time didn't stick around more than a few years. He divorced her after she took a lover."

"I think I get the picture. He had a preference for, um, private indulgence?"

"Sometimes, even an Earl's got to do what a man's got to do."

We remain side by side, not touching, appraising the shapely if time-ravaged row.

"What would a man do if we were to discuss what the Caryatids might not have worn under those tunics?”

“Such a provocative topic for a public place, Ms. Johnson."

“Or if anyone in this room, at this very minute, decided to do the same...?”

"Shall I take a guess?"

My peripheral vision catches Robert’s hand, slowly approaching the pocket I visited. I can feel rather than see his reaction to grasping the tiny ruffle of silk I'd taken off before freshening my lipstick in the powder room.

His fingers burn the gauze of my skirt. "I know a spot with a better view. Let’s go."

And when a group of spectators ignoring the no-flash-photography rule gather on the opposite side of the platform and fire their shutters our way, it provides a fitting smokescreen for the distorted lips and fluttering eyelids of my own explosion. The rough wall chafes my shoulder blades as a delicious churning milks my legs of their stability. All the while, Robert’s surreptitious strength both breaks and sustains me until the black-green strobes fade at last.

oOo

The flight to Crete is blissfully short but very pleasant. We cover ourselves in a blanket which permits us to play under the noses and blissful ignorance of the other passengers though I suspect the flight attendant is well aware of our actions.

No sooner are we covered than I feel Jan’s hand creep to my groin and start to fondle what soon becomes a full-blown erection. Nothing loath, I slide my hand under her pert ass and use my fingers to reciprocate.

“Stop it, Robert, you are going to make me cum!”

“So what’s wrong with that? You certainly had no objections last night through your multiple orgasms,” I smirked.

“There’s a time and a place for everything.”

“Yes, and with you it always is the right time and the right place. Especially that warm wet place between your thighs. Have I told you how good you taste, and smell?”

“Yes you have you, rampant satyr, I love how you make me feel and what you do to me.”

Inopportunely, the flight attendant came on the speaker and requested we straighten our seat backs and return our tray tables to their position. Just in time as if she had not interceded at that moment I would be leaving the plane with a big stain on the front of my trousers.

oOo

I rent a vehicle at the Heraklion airport and we walk across the parking lot to get the car. The Mercedes SL 350 Coup two-seater barely accommodates the two carry-on bags we have.

“Top up or down?” I ask Jan.

“Oh, Robert, I’ve never ridden in a convertible! Top-down, if you don’t mind what it will do to my hair.”

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll love you whatever your hair looks like.”

The ride from Heraklion over the mountains to Matala is glorious. The air is warm and dry and it is a joy to see Jan just soak up the wind and the sun. As we cross the range of hills that run down the center of Crete, Jan starts sniffing the air.

“What’s that smell?” she asks?”

“Well, at a guess you are smelling the sea and the desert as well as maybe the Nile River. The south coast of Crete is directly opposite the north coast of Africa.”

“Glorious!”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes. What comes first lunch, swimming or making love?”

“All three at the same time,” she says, leaning over and nuzzling my neck.

“That might be difficult,” I say, pulling up to the side of the road where our lips meet in a passionate kiss. As our tongues entwine I bless my stars for having found such a fun and carefree traveling companion.

I fondle her firm breast and pinch her delightful tush. “How about the following plan of action? We have lunch just above the hill where there is a place that prepares delicious souvlaki. Check into the hotel and get changed to go for a swim. Then I will satisfy your every erotic fantasy.”

“Every one? No matter what they are?”

“Everyone, as long as no pain is involved.”

“Oooh! Have to think. Now, what would I like you to do to and with me?”

“Well, how about…”

“Don’t tell me yet. Let it be a surprise.”

As we crossed the range. The village of Matala and the azure sea beyond was below us like a picture postcard. Jan’s jaw dropped as she took in the beauty of the scene.

oOo

On an open-air terrace with a spectacular view of the beach, Robert orders the souvlaki, which arrives sizzling and, to my delight, with lemon wedges. While squeezing the fresh citrus, I start to get carried away and cup my free hand to shield wayward splatters.

"You don't have to be so cautious, Jan. A little lemon juice isn't going to hurt this old shirt of mine."

"Maybe not, but I also don't want to waste a single drop." I try to lick my palm suggestively but end up wincing. "Wow. These taste twice as strong as back home."

"You should see your face right now."

Our laughter covers the sound of someone approaching the table.

"Well, Robert. Fancy running into you here," a bass Boston brogue breaks in.

Robert grins in recognition and offers his hand to a burly silver-haired gent standing over us. "Grant Kavanaugh... I could say the same. How've you been?"

"Muriel's back in Brookline," the brogue explains after noting Robert's sweeping glance. "Stag trip for me."

"In that case, why don't you join us? Grant, I'd like you to meet Janice Johnson."

The guest's grizzled-caterpillar eyebrows crawl above his Ray-Bans as he turns my way. "How do you do, Ms. Johnson?" He pulls up a chair and parks his retsina. His handshake, like his smile, is pure Teflon: manufactured and bulletproof.

I mirror his formality. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kavanaugh." His voice sounds familiar. This far from home, doesn't every Bostonian sound familiar?

The server attentively relocates Kavanaugh's lunch plate and refills our glasses. Robert and Kavanaugh fall into easy catchup conversation. The two had been business associates, and their wives belonged to the same clubs. I'm content to listen in, eager to gain more insight into Robert's world.

To Robert's credit, he draws me in whenever possible. Muriel Kavanaugh had been an art major at Wellesley before dropping out when her then-fiance proposed. For the first time since my own withdrawal from school, there's no sadness. The setting is too beautiful for otherwise painful memories to cast their shadows. That's in the past now. I feel light and free.

"So how did you two meet?" Kavanaugh poses the inevitable question. His smile is whitewashed and artificial.

"Through a personal ad in the Globe." Robert covers my hand with his.

Kavanaugh gapes like a gaffed marlin and tucks into his third retsina as Robert fills in the rest of the story. It makes me downright giddy when he finishes with a flourish of, "We're in love."

"Well," sputters the brogue, "I certainly have to hand it to you--" He reaches for the goblet and miscalculates, causing it to tip violently and splash some of its contents onto Robert's clothes. "Damn clumsy of me, man... so sorry... "

Robert rises with a gracious, "Nothing a little cold water can't fix," and excuses himself with a wink.

The moment he turns the corner, Kavanaugh leans in close and removes his sunglasses, revealing a pair of red-rimmed road maps. "I have to hand it to you too, Miss Big Knockers Burgers."

My eyes sting from the alcohol fumes, but they manage to stay open.

"Don't recognize me, do you? Well, I remember you, leaning over tables with your tits out and shorts half up your arse. You sure have come up in the world from getting boned by the likes of Jake Simmons."

Steel needles pierce my chest. So his voice was more familiar than I thought. How does he know Jake? Or is it a jealous bluff? I keep calm and let out the rope.

The bloodshot eyes narrow further. "Sure, Robert thinks it's love. He's thinking with his dick--and you're taking advantage. You haven't told him about those wild nights after the late shift, I take it?"

Enough is enough. "That's none of your business."

"Put on all the airs you like, but don't think for a minute some drink-slinging hussy could be any sort of replacement for a class act like Marjorie Wethersfield. Enjoy the tour, honey, because that's all your ambitions are good for." He leans back in his chair and swigs the remains of his drink.

"Ready for the baklava? Or some fresh figs?" Robert reappears, ever the good host. My heart knocks with relief.

"Oh, I couldn't eat another bite," I protest a little too brightly. "And Mr. Kavanaugh said he has to be leaving presently."

oOo

Our suite in the boutique hotel overlooking the sea below is a welcome oasis of coolness after the torrid sun beating down on Matala.

I look over at Jan and my smile is returned with a frown. “What’s wrong, darling?”

She turns to the window, refusing to meet my eyes. How strange. She was cheerful during lunch, even accepted Grant and our rounds of shop talk good-naturedly... tipsy as he was.

But how tipsy? It occurs to me the spilled drink might not have been an accident.

"Kavanaugh didn't come on to you, did he?" I ask as gently as possible. Frankly, I wouldn't put it past the bastard.

"Oh no, it was nothing like that!" Her expression absolves him of that offense. "It's just... I was so happy when you said, 'We're in love.' Then the minute you left, Kavanaugh gave me the reality check.

She rushes on, “Robert, I don’t belong with you. Kavanaugh was right. I am just good enough to be a big-breasted waitress at Big Knockers Burgers. I will never measure up to your Marjorie and I should return to where I came.”

“Jan, I never asked you to measure up to Marjorie, or to anyone else. Tell me what took place?”

Between sobs she relates the exchange that had taken place. I cradle her in my arms and as best I can. I wipe the tears from her cheeks with my fingers and my tongue.

“Stop that Robert, I’m serious. This is not the time for silly games.”

“Listen to you. It’s always time for silly games. Jan, in the short time we have been together you have given me such joy as I had ceased to believe I would ever have again. It’s not about the sex, though I have no complaints about that. You are one of those people who can be whatever she wishes to be. Your soul is unique and I value that even more than I value those Big Burger Knockers of yours.”

“You mean that, Robert?”

“Yes, darling. Sure, I was attracted by your looks initially, however getting to know you has revealed to me that you are extraordinary. Your wit and intelligence really draw you to me. And… of course there are those Big Burger Knockers and your long legs, and tight ass which are certainly nice accessories to go with the rest.”

“Cut the blarney, Robert.”

“No blarney. If I were not so much older than you are I would marry you tomorrow, or even today if we could.”

“Robert, if you did, everyone would see me as a gold-digger. I would never feel comfortable with the Kavanaughs of this world who are your friends.”

“Oh yeah, Kavanaugh. What am I going to do about him? Darling, can you just stay in the room for about forty minutes till I return.”

“Of course. What are you going to do? Please don’t pick a fight with him, please.”

“Just stay here and I will let you know after the fact.”

oOo

“I’m back.”

”Where were you? I’ve been worried that you would do something stupid like play the knight in shining armor and challenge that idiot to a duel.”

“No, Jan. Those days are past. Today the duels are more subtle and much bloodier. Let me tell you something about Kavanaugh. He was born in Southie, the son of a bricklayer. He always had charm and an imposing physic and managed to charm and woo the daughter of a prominent and wealthy family. Muriel was an heiress with multi-million dollars coming to her.

Her parents objected to the match and they eloped. Eventually, with the arrival of a son they reconciled with the parents and Muriel was welcomed back into the fold. He started a construction firm with money from Muriel’s inheritance after the parents passed away. Based on Muriel’s name, many doors were opened to him and he was moderately successful.

The rub is that he had a roving eye and cheated on Muriel every chance he got.”

“So what has that to do with that pissant and his attitude?”

”I told you that duels are no longer fought with gloved and swords. Duels today are financial. So after wandering down to the nude beach with my cell phone, I got some lovely shots of Kavanaugh with his present paramour who happens to be his newly hired personal assistant.”

“So?”

“I was fortunate in being to reach Muriel in Boston. The soon to be former Mrs. Kavanaugh is in route as we speak to meet with her attorney. Also, she has placed control of the company sock in my hands in trust while this plays out and has cut off all lines of credit to him, including his credit cards which are company issued.”

“Now my wonderful love, get those amazing Big Burger Knockers and that sweet bum into a bikini and let us go down and meet with him. Just remember that revenge is a dish best served cold and that today’s duels are much bloodier than in the past.”

oOo

As we approach the beach, I see Kavanaugh coming out of the water, playing grab-ass with his woman and snap a few more pictures for the record. Once they get under their parasol, Jan and I casually saunter to them.

“Oh, Robert, and your delicious Jan. I hope I am going to have the pleasure of seeing Jan au naturel.”

“I don’t think so Kavanaugh.”

“What you are going to be greedy and keep her all to yourself?”

“That my, dear man, is none of your business what I do. Jan told me about your comments at lunch today and I was saddened by what you said to her.”

“So what! What are you going to do about it?”

“It’s already done. At this moment Muriel is on her way to consult with her attorney armed with pictures of you cavorting with this young lady and a copy of the hotel register showing that you two are sharing a single room.”

“What! You did that to me.”

“Yes I did. In addition, you had better start looking for work as you have been fired as president of the company and will soon be removed from the board of directors. Oh! I forgot your credit cards are no longer active and I informed the management of the hotel of that fact.”

“But… How can I be removed from the board and fired?”

“Well, the stock you have been voting is not really yours, its Muriel’s. She has issued a power of attorney by which I now control sixty-five percent of the stock. Jan, here is a pen and paper. Can you record the following minutes of the board of Kavanaugh Construction.

I hereby call an extraordinary meeting of the board of directors of Kavanaugh Construction. There are two items on the agenda for the meeting. The first is the dismissal of the present president and the removal of the current chairman of the board. We presently have a quorum of the shareholders as I represent sixty-five percent of those shares. All those in favour of the motion say aye. Aye! Opposed?”

Kavanaghs’ jaw dropped and his previously semi-erect member drooped as if it had been fully deflated.

“Come on, Jan, Our business with, as you term him puissant, is over. Let’s go for that swim you have been dreaming about.”

oOo

I watch as Jan scampers over the sand. We are at the non-nude beach as Jan is reticent of exposing herself in all her splendor. As she dives into the wave, I follow her and try vainly to catch up with her. She truly is here in her element. She stops and I finally catch up to her. She points down and I look to see a blue skate undulating over the sandy bottom.

“Robert, this is beautiful. Warm water and visibility such as I have never seen in New England.”

I wrap her in my arms and we share a soft and tender kiss.

“Robert,” she says, “You were truly a modern knight defending his lady with Kavanaugh.”

“Remember that word, lady. You truly are a lady. Do you now see how duels today are bloodier than in the past?”

“Yes! That scene will forever be imprinted in my mind. I confess that the power you exuded made me very horny for you. My pussy is still creaming thinking about it. Robert, I love you!”

oOo

Robert's half of the embrace withdraws in practical resignation except for a lingering grope of my tush. "In that case, m'lady, we should take this back to the suite, where you can give me a detailed demonstration."

Maybe it's the glittering Aegean, a starlit canopy standing giddily on its head. Or Apollo's gilding of Robert's already bronzed shoulders and salted temples with a brilliance that still can't compete with his eyes, out of which a victor's shine blazes twofold: celebrating a win over Kavanaugh and anticipating a more enjoyable triumph. It's a radiance that belongs right where it is.

"What if I'm not such a lady... and can't wait?" My arms are sleek rebellious gates behind his neck. I like the way our wet skin welds us chest to chest, the closed warmth below the waterline where Robert's hand is squeezing the fruit of my hip. For a lustrous moment, our eyes trade challenges. "Can you?"

His sudden kiss abbreviates the question. Descants of carefree laughter chirp like distant flutes while our lips nuzzle, part and bloom into one another, hummingbird tongues flicking to glean sweet sustenance. The gentle probes ignite sparks deep within Aphrodite's cauldron and trigger yet another nectar flow into the thin wedge of spandex threading my thigh gap.

I press my case without shame, the forward momentum of Big Knockers Burgers breasts an unfair advantage. Every breath they coax from Robert seems to whisper, "More." One by one, they tell me how badly he wants to unravel the bow tickling my spine, inveigle his fingers beyond tan lines to strum pale suppleness, then lower his mouth in a trail of unhurried nibbles that give way to voracious wolfing once locked onto its cherry-stem destinations.

But he can't. Not here. His clothed frustration knocks roughly at the smoothness below my navel.

Curiosity overwhelms me, and I disengage and slip beneath the glassy ripples. Like a gymnast's ribbon, I float in a circle around Robert's legs, pausing to kiss the backs of his knees. My fingers dart inside billowing cuffs, dance up the slopes of his inner thighs, then retreat to brush his tented, thickening mass through the distorted trunks.

Upon surfacing, I'm safely out of reach. "How detailed a demonstration would you like?"

"Take off your bikini first, and I'll let you know."

"How do I know you won't steal it and run it up a flagpole?" I pout.

Robert laughs, then nods toward the oblivious beachgoers. "Going ashore might be officially out of the question."

"Oh, this I have to see." I roll forward in a cormorant's plunge and disappear from everyone else's view. Not one of them can see my lips graze the straining periscope while both sets of fingers hook his waistband at advantageous angles.

One swift pull and the waterlogged net traps him mid-thigh. He's telling the truth. The idea of being seduced in public is infusing his manhood with a conquering warrior's flush obvious even through the aquatic tint. One slow kelp-tangle grope of the released bobbing shaft, a swirling taste of the proud glans, and I swim away from the hands about to cradle my temples.

Time to breathe and shake the water from my ears. "Yes, officially out of the question."

"Then officially get back there and continue what you started, you - "

The rest of his words bubble after I dive again, and they fade to liquid, forgiving silence when I caress his waterborne column with alternating currents of lips and fingertips. Its staghorn coral veins throb in approval of my tongue's detailed attention, and from its cannonlike lengthening, I can tell Robert can't resist looking down through Poseidon's glass at the things I'm doing.

Reluctant to take my hands away from their favorite toy, but leaving my kiss firmly in place, I tug at the hip of my bikini. Each progression from thighs to knees and lower fuses my lips all the more to the resilient sinew that strains to kiss them back. Once it's off, I shoot like a fountain into the bright blue air.

"There. You got half your wish." Flashing a playful smile, I drag the slippery inner gusset over his barely submerged cock tip and clasp it taut. The colorful sheath distends as if trapping an enraged moray, its prisoner's pulse thundering against my palm. "Well, what have we here? My very own flag pole!"

A deep draft of oxygen broadens his ribs. Out of dazzling sight, something alights on my new nakedness with precision, making me gasp.

"You were right," he observes, "you are very horny."

His touch is souffle-delicate over the cream-coated slit and allows the warm sea to lick alongside in dizzying symmetry. My knees seem to lose their bones.

"Told you." All this ocean, yet my throat is drier than the wind from Africa we breathed when we first arrived. In my overfilled grip, the slickened brief stretches and retracts like a spandex foreskin over the Beluga bulge. Robert's damp chest heaves a complementary rhythm to the insistent pull of my fist.

I slip the other hand below and gently explore the treaded man-o-war spreading beneath the rock-hard shaft. But it's not enough, and I follow with my entire body until I'm floating between his legs again, flicking his balls with the tip of my braid and tonguing areas of sensitive firmness my hands are incapable of covering. I want to do for him the mind-blowing things he did for me in the museum, in public yet unseen, driving all composure from his expression as he loses control.

The next time I come up, I'm surprised with a tentacle-like skittering that makes me suck in my breath and sigh, "You must have had lots and lots of practice to make a woman feel so good."

"For the right woman, I'm a firm believer in practice."

A pulse through his stiffness pries my fingers further apart than they already are. "An understatement if I've ever heard one."

"Your lashes look like jewels." He kisses the salt from them tenderly, even as his subversive tickles are driving me wild.

We fall silent and yield to each other's dexterous glidings. In between the moans of appreciation they elicit, our lips connect and reconnect like anemones swaying in the wind. Mine travel over the rasp of his chin into his throat hollow, the first tentative steps of a naughtier mission.

All of a sudden, Robert's posture stiffens. "Come deeper," he says softly.

"Hey, that's my line -" I start to turn toward what's drawn his attention.

"Shh," he admonishes. One hand scoops my bare backside, and the other, which had treated me with delicious lightness now plunges an authoritative finger high and hard. My pussy clamps it in astonished rapture. He pulls me with him until the water is nearly chest-deep.

It's only then I hear the voices that don't belong to us.

"Great day for a swim, isn't it?" booms a baritone Texas twang.

I jump, startled. Robert angles us so I can see them: an older couple sauteed to crocodile tans, wading about forty feet away.

"It's our first time here," trills his companion. "Where're y'all from?"

Before she's finished speaking, Robert slides in another finger to join the first and augments their velvet ingress with a swift, incapacitating curl. An equally assertive thumb bears down on my most susceptible ridge.

My cheeks flame deviant crimson. I can't believe the same Robert, who lasciviously plumbs my secret depths is simultaneously answering the silver-topped matron and her ruddy companion with his utmost charm and courtesy - and in Greek.

The couples' alabaster grins freeze in place before they mutter, "Sorry," back off and wave apologies.

"You're amazing - you know that?" The words float off like dandelion fluff when the wriggle of his fingers again makes me forgetful of speech. Safe from prying eyes except for his, I let my toes take flight from the pebbled shelf and rock my hips in buoyant, wanton gratitude.

I think I'm getting carried away because the thrilling penetration soon feels shallower. I stop when the sensation fades to emptiness.

His persuasive hand is now disengaging my grip from his cock and gently massages the uncoiled, cramping palm. "Hope you don't mind, but I need this for something else."

"What would that be?" My voice thins to a wisp of itself. Something silky brushes my tummy for an instant, but I'm unable to look away, awaiting his answer.

"I meant, you need this for something else."

The plum-like head insinuates itself on the verge of my ache, and I have to clutch his shoulders to keep from falling backward. Its solidity parts, spreads, advances. My fingers press constellations into his skin as Olympus rises within me. When it claims me to the fullest, I squeeze it with all my might, which feels ineffective against its massive girth.

As a reward for welcoming his initiating thrust, his thumb revisits the sensitive upper nook of my wishbone with deft crosscurrents. I tilt gratefully into them. His knees bend; he thrusts, his virility a sublime repetitive wave.

Just as my eyelids begin to fall in blissful submission, a floating splash of color lifts them again. A jellyfish? I think in mild alarm.

Panic twists my stomach. "My bikini!" I protest. "It's drifting - " I struggle but can't give chase, anchored as I am on Robert's stout mast.

His expression is calm and unwavering as he coaxes my hips to deepen his aroused member's reach. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, Janice?"

The exquisite tension that builds beneath his stroking mutes every anxious siren call. The way he's making me writhe, goading my urges past simmer into steam, I would gladly strip off my top as well and stroll from the waves nude, damn the consequences.

"Yes."

Ulysses never had it so good. I cinch my glove, wanting every inch of him to feel its sucking silk coils.

"You feel so hot and tight on my cock," his lips scorch mine.

My answer is a pant of desperation, a wordless plea for his touch to shift just a little more.

"You like? " he taunts.

"Yes."

"Or maybe I should make you wait until I get you back to the room and spank you over my knee for being such an impetuous wench?"

"No!" I squirm frantically. "Please..."

"Please, what?"

"Please... don't make me wait... "

But he does. I'm stretched to the breaking point and bear down on his rigid invasion as hard as I can, hoping to change his mind.

"That's it, Jan. Take the edge off that location-inappropriate horniness of yours and let me feel your tight little pussy coming all over my thick cock - just the way you're dying to."

"Robert... "

His fingers close in on my most acute need. "No more debates, feisty one. Come for me now, naughty girl."

At his command, my surface musculature braces itself for the impending onslaught.

Then the weightless pressure, the tipping-point swipe.

As if about to dive, I hold my breath for a wall of fire this time and let its cock-clenching flames engulf us. My sleeve grapples Robert's excitement like a stripper's sinuous limbs flung with abandon around their pole. I lock my ankles behind his legs, stifle a wild yelp of joy, and merge with the blazing Aegean sun.

His strength immobilizes my hips to perfect his fulfillment. Within me, his quickening thrusts swell and unload jetting torrents as he exhales my name. His seed is both a tranquilizer and stimulant, filling me with contentment and a longing to come again.

He has other plans; I can tell. When the throb of his muscle withdraws, I climb down him and lick pearly streams from his still-solid length until he hauls me out to face him. We smile and kiss, our pair bond reinforced.

"That's enough for you, greedy one."

To my disappointment, Robert eases his trunks into place. We shield our eyes and squint into the teal-colored currents for a sign of my missing brief, but there's none.

"I'll go ashore first and fetch you a towel." He reaches between my legs and swirls through the thick layers of cum glossing my slit. "I want you good and horny for later on. So no touching yourself while I'm gone, understand?"

"Understood," I smirk.

While waiting for Robert's return, I hear sloshing sounds. Someone is wading toward me. Maybe the leathery couple found themselves a Greek dictionary and are eager for a practice-pal. Boy, they're picking the wrong person. I look upward warily.

But it's someone different - young, male, finely muscled. And racked on the large graceful hand he extends is the dripping gleam of my discarded modesty.

His accent is as exotic as his tan. "I believe this belongs to you?"

oOo

I arrive back to Jan to see a young Greek extend his hand towards her with her bikini bottom. I can see his eyes devouring her and speak up, startling him, “Sas efcharistó kýrie. I arravoniastikiá mou kai egó eímaste evgnómones se sas”

He turns in surprise, eyes me and with typical Greek charm, smiles at me, hands me the wayward strip of cloth, and wades back towards shore.

“Robert, what did you say to him?”

“I told him if he cast one more glance at you I would transform certain parts of him into kokoretsi.”

“Kokoretsi?”

“Yes, skewered and roasted sweetbreads. In other words his testicles.”

“Oh, Robert, you didn’t?”

I smiled at the shocked look on Jan’s face. “No love, I just thanked him on my behalf and on behalf of my fiancée.”

“Your fiancée?” gasped Jan.

“Yes. Jan, would you do me the honor of accepting me as your husband?”

I see the absolutely flabbergasted expression on her face and burst out laughing.

“Are you laughing at me, or are you making a sick joke?”

“Oh no, Jan, I would never laugh at you. However, have you ever seen such a ludicrous place to propose to the woman you love? There she stands bare-bottomed and if I were to kneel at her feet to propose she would think I was proposing just to her princess parts plus I would probably drown. No, love, I have never been more serious in my life. Put on your bikini and let’s go back and let me redo this more formally.”

To be continued

Thanks to JefferyB for his help.