Where's Brenda?

*****

It was a long drive to the four-star resort where Bob had made the bookings. Along the way they argued continuously over whether they could afford such an extravagant hiatus from the business. Brenda had gone on the resort's website and was highly impressed but felt the amenities and prices were quite beyond what they needed or could afford. Bob's insistence that they had earned two days of pampering did not help matters in the slightest. She controlled the finances and, frankly, Bob was clueless about how much they had, or didn't have, in the way of discretionary spending.

Brenda, the more status conscious of the two, would not let the matter rest. "What will the parking valet and bellboy think when they see us driving up in this rust bucket?"

Bob took offense at that comment. True, the Dodge van was eight years old and had been used for just about everything from hauling wood to transporting reluctant pets to the vet. The dogs always showed their displeasure by treating the interior of the car as an extension of their favorite chew-toy. The vehicle had seen better days but he had taken good care of it mechanically and it still ran like a dream. "Shit. Who cares?" is all he said, biting his tongue and gripping the steering wheel just a little more firmly than before.

Arriving finally at the front of the hotel and seeing the lobby exterior Bob was immediately in awe of the expansive modern architecture. The Check In counters were made of heavy mahogany and maple wood, finely engrained with the corporate logo and welcoming signs. The ivory marble floors throughout were offset by gray slate and gunmetal blue steel rafters that seemed to reach for the stars.

Plush red carpeting, left and right of the concierge desk, led visitors away from the over-sized lobby and lounge area. Following wide corridors to the left, guests were directed to three different fine-dining restaurants. Located in the same wing of the building were the spas, gift stores and the convention center.

A slow spiraling staircase led off from the lobby to the right and to the guest rooms.

Having completed their check-in Bob and Brenda made their way with a bell hop to their accommodations on the fourth floor. "Room number 4213" quipped Bob in an aside as they entered the elevator. "It's got to be lucky, right? Brenda shrugged. "The 13 doesn't impress me much, I'll admit," continued Bob. "But the rest of the numbers work for me. Add two and one, you get three. Add three and one you get four. Two times one is two. Four plus two is six, twice three. I could go on."

"Please don't," said Brenda. "I know your definition of lucky."

"And we have to use the elevator. Is this the elevator, Brenda?" he whispered conspiratorially.

"Shut up," Brenda responded playfully, slapping him gently across the shoulder. "Seriously though, this place is something else. Did you see the crystal chandeliers in the lobby. Must have cost a fortune." She glanced at Bob, then at the bellhop. "Guess who's paying? That's right, Bob and Brenda. B&B. That's where we should be. In a bed & breakfast."

They arrived at the room and the bellhop let them in with the card-key. "I think you will find this suite very comfortable. You have all the amenities including a gallery kitchen, deep soaking Jacuzzi tub and a terrific view of our indoor heated pool," he said casually. If you need anything at all, just dial "0" to reach the front desk. They'll be happy to help you. During your stay, don't forget to take advantage of our EcoSpa and fitness center. We have personal trainers on staff if you'd like to work with them." He hesitated long enough for Bob to place a note in his hand, then turned and left, closing the door gently behind him.

"Wow," exclaimed Bob walking further into the room. "Check out the bed. The card on the pillow says Egyptian linen. Whatever that means."

"It means it's really, really comfortable," said Brenda kicking off her shoes and falling ungracefully across the full width of the king-size bed. "This is heaven. I'm for taking a quick nap before dinner."

As she closed her eyes and relaxed Bob took a long moment to study her. 'Yes,' he thought. 'Eminently fuckable.' Smiling to himself he walked over to the bay windows, intent on taking in the view around the pool. Satisfying himself that no-one of interest was making use of the facility, he sat back in one of two high-winged leather chairs that framed the window, reached out for a handful of brochures and began to read.

Brenda woke him from a deep, restful snooze. Pamphlets were scattered on the floor around him where they had fallen from his hand. "Best clean this up before we go downstairs," she said. "Do we need to dress up, do you think?"

"I should think so. A little anyway. No country-style eatery in this place," volunteered Bob. "Fancy some wine with dinner? I'll bet they have a nice selection. Remember the South African Riesling we tried before. What was it called again? Nedeburg something."

"A little too sweet for my taste, as I recall. And expensive," said Brenda.

"Well, we'll ask the waiter for a nice dry white, then. I might try a glass of Merlot, maybe Spanish or Chilean. I'm in the mood for something full-bodied, if you know what I mean," said Bob winking as he selected his best shirt and tie from the suitcase. As he dressed Brenda began undressing. She knew his eyes were taking in every part of her body. Usually he was a bit more discreet but on this occasion she sensed he was quite comfortable with her knowing that he was ravishing her with his eyes.

She had brought a new bra with her, a 36B that was one cup size too small. She knew it wouldn't be comfortable but intended to wear it only under her emerald green halter-neck top to give her breasts extra lift and prominence. Victorian-era ladies were most certainly not happy tucked into those bustiers and whale-bone corsets but clothiers of the day, probably all males, sure knew how to accent the female figure. She could sacrifice a little comfort given how important this weekend was to Bob.

Once dressed they found their way to Luigi's, a superbly decorated and appointed restaurant specializing in fine Italian cuisine. Studying the menu closely, Bob had difficulty deciding what to order. "It would help if they put friggin' English next to the items," he said gruffly. "I mean, what the hell is Focaccia Loaf? And how about Shrimp Primavera?" Brenda shrugged, either in contempt or disinterest. He could not read with certainty which so he ignored the gesture. Scanning the Entrees next, his whole countenance relaxed. "Now this is something I can understand. Look, hon. They have Atlantic Salmon. That's what I'm going to have. What's your fancy?"

Brenda settled for the Chicken Florentine. On the waiter's advice they ordered a half-carafe each of their choice of wine. Bob settled for a local Shiraz over an Australian Cabernet Merlot (with Brenda's encouragement making his decision mostly price-driven). She selected a crisp, dry Kumala Chardonnay. As they ate by candlelight with the strains of light Italian opera in the background, Bob thought his wife looked as beautiful as ever. She seemed relaxed, was proving to be the good conversationalist he had always known her to be and she was enjoying his jokes and banter. Always the litmus test for any relationship, he thought. If you can laugh with someone, you have something solid and worth holding on to.

For dessert they both had a generous helping of Baked Alaska. Not very Italian but it was on the menu and had been a favorite of theirs since their courting days. The evening had gone splendidly and Bob was encouraged to end dinner with a flourish. Calling over the waiter, he ordered an Irish Coffee for himself and a glass of Crème De Cacao for Brenda.

Back in their room, their awkwardness toward each other was not long in returning. They were entering unfamiliar territory. Unpracticed and unrehearsed intimacy. Stalling for time until he could think of a way to broach the subject, Bob chose activity over words which was a bit unusual for him. Normally he was very confident with his language skills but tonight it seemed he needed some time and a bit more Dutch courage to formulate and express his thoughts. He shed his leather jacket, tie and shoes and strode purposefully over to the mini-bar.

"Want anything?" he inquired.

"No," replied Brenda. "It's so expensive from there. And besides, we've already indulged a bit too much I think."

"Nonsense," replied Bob quickly. "We're on holiday. We don't have to drive anywhere. It's just you and me here. I'm gonna have something. Let's see." Breaking the seal and peering into the fridge he selected a small bottle of Grants Whiskey. "This will do nicely," he said, adding: "Throw a couple of blocks of hard water in it and Bob's your uncle". He smiled briefly at the witty double entendre. Then, bending to peer once more he removed a bottle of Bacardi Pina Colada. "Share some ice with me?" he asked.

"You've broken the seal now," Brenda said. "Might as well. I have to go to the little girl's room. Be right back."

She wasn't. Right back, that is. Bob had emptied his glass and opened another whiskey by the time she returned. He glanced in her direction as she entered the lounge area of the suite from the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway, leaning nonchalantly against the frame, one leg stretched forward in front of the other with her hands resting casually by her sides.

She allowed him a long study of her figure, the light see-through fabric of her chemise clinging to her thighs. She wanted to make this easy for him and had shopped ahead to buy just the right satin rose teddy and thong set, mid-thigh in length. The sculptured bodice of Brazilian stretch lace cupped and raised her breasts, below which the teddy hugged her midriff and flared widely at the hips.

Surprising herself she found her excitement building as she stood before him in the provocative, sheer outfit. Perhaps he had been right all along. Perhaps, by taking time to pamper herself a woman might become sufficiently aroused to want to excite her man. And then who knew what might follow.

"Oh geez. Oh my god," breathed Bob heavily. "You're so beautiful, Brenda. Really. I love you in that outfit. I had no idea. I didn't think...I haven't seen you in a nightie for I don't remember how long. I ..."

She cut him short. "Stop babbling. So you like the outfit. What about the package inside?" she asked. With that she began to run her hands slowly up her sides, coming to and raising the chemise to expose more and more of her thighs. There she stopped. Dropped the hem and, instead, brought her right hand to her neck and delicately pushed the strap over her shoulder with her index finger.

Bob watched the pantomime intently, not daring to say anything that might ruin the moment. She knew she had his full attention. Slowly, tantalizingly, she reached inside and began to play with her nipple, tugging and twisting it gently until it stood out proud and inviting. Then, and only then, she lifted her breast out of the confining fabric. "You like?" she asked innocently.

"Oh, god. Yes," Bob managed. "Don't stop now. Do a striptease for me. Please."

She reached down again and deliberately began to lift the hem once more. Bob's eyes moved reluctantly from her breast with its dark puckered nipple and lighter-colored areola, drifted to her midriff and then further down as her thighs once again came into full view. She gathered small folds of material and lifted the hem a little higher. Then higher still, to reveal the V of her thong panties. Bob stood up, moved towards her and sat on the edge of the bed facing her, now only a couple of feet away. He swore he could feel the warmth of her sexual energy emanating from her body. Red, sheer and trimmed in black, the thong panties showed damp and neatly exposed the shape of her Venus mound.

"What are you thinking, you beast?" asked Brenda in a voice tight with her own excitement. "You would like some of this, no doubt."

"My cock sure hopes so," said Bob. A pathetic response under the circumstances but it was all he could think to say at the time. "I see a runway under those little panties. May I land?"

"Not so fast big boy. Retract your landing gear. You're going to have to be patient until you hear from the control tower, okay?" Brenda was in full control and loving every minute of her power over him to tease and seduce. This was fun. Was it the booze? Being somewhere with him, away from the routine and responsibilities of work? She didn't care. She only wanted to please this man. Here. Now. On her own terms.

She moved towards him and folded her fingers at the back of his head. Then she gently pulled him towards her, lifting herself slightly on her heels until her pubic mound and clitoris pressed lightly against his mouth. There. That was what she wanted. The feel of his warm breath on her newly trimmed pussy. "Stay. Just like that. Don't move. Just breathe on me," she instructed. "I can feel you through the fabric."

She fondled his locks, all the while murmuring softly to let him know how much she wanted him. How much she was going to enjoy having him inside her. Bob was lost for words to reply which was just as well. His mind was preoccupied, waiting for the curtain to rise and the first act to begin.

Breaking free, Brenda noticed the glass of Pina Colada on the night stand and took two very long swigs. Then she reached for the controls on the headboard. After a moment or two she succeeded in dimming the lights and turning on the surround sound. She did not much care what music was playing but it happened to be a jazz number with what she thought was an odd but effective blend of acoustic and flamingo guitar backing up the heavy sax.

Pleased with the selection she took two steps back to stand once more before her husband. To the accompaniment of the music she slowly began to move her hips, swaying first from side to side, then rotating them more vigorously. Lifting her arms, her hands began to dance in the air with all the artistic grace of a ballerina. In doing so, her nightie had risen almost level with her hips, exposing a full frontal view of her upper thighs, thong and tummy.

Bob sat transfixed. The only memory he had of anything so erotic brought him back to an off-road speakeasy and strip joint he had frequented once with a couple of newly graduated college buddies. The difference now was that this was a private show. The chick was hot. And she was his.

He watched intently as Brenda arched her back slightly, at the same time thrusting her hips forward to stretch the tiny thong fabric more tightly about her mound. He was sure he could see a small part of her labia, aroused and swollen, protruding on either side of the see-through fabric. He also became acutely aware of the fact that, fully aroused, some adjustment would be needed to relieve himself of the now uncomfortably tight trousers he wore. Reaching quickly down the front of his pants he moved his cock so that it could lay its complete, erect length along the crotch lining. For the time being he would await further instructions from the control tower. His eyes never left wife.

Brenda, turned exhibitionist, was reveling in the attention. The more she danced the more aroused she became knowing that her husband could barely contain his emotions. Knowing what would tip the scales she completed a 180 degrees half-pirouette, lifted the nightie up to her shoulders and wiggled her behind in some rough timing to the rhythm of the music, backing towards him as she did so. That pretty much did it for Bob. He reached out, shouted something about 'to hell with the tower' and buried his face deep between her buttocks. Nestled there he methodically began to explore every inch of her with his tongue. All the while, Brenda observed him looking over her shoulder.

She tolerated the disobedient and undisciplined act for some minutes as she allowed her senses to fully absorb the sensations of his caresses. His tongue probed beyond the thong into her vagina, searching for some acknowledgment that its work was effective. Brenda gave him support by spreading her feet and bending her legs slightly, allowing him easier access to her as she moaned her appreciation and gently swayed her hips. Then an unexpected and, under the circumstances, especially considerate thought came to her: 'When's he coming up for air?'

Though his attention was giving her undeniable pleasure she stepped forward and away then, sensing there was so much more intimacy and exploration in store for them this night. She knelt before him. Taking a firm grasp of his belt buckle she made it clear to him that she was now ready to have him release his 'landing gear'. He tried to help her undo the clasp, a task which would ordinarily have been quite simple but for some reason now completely eluded him. She gently removed his hand, released the simple mechanism and began to undo his fly.

Bob knew when he was in good hands so turned his attention instead to removing his shirt. Not bothering with the buttons he simply pulled desperately at the material trying to force it over his head. His chin and then his ears got in the way. There was only one thing to do. Pulling frantically as though he were opening a concertina gate he popped several buttons, undid the sleeves and bundled the shirt, throwing it adroitly across the room.

By now Brenda had managed to pull his trousers down to his knees and was in the process of removing them completely. Bob looked down at her and then at his member pressed up against the front of his undershorts. 'Landing gear engaged' he thought. As Brenda went methodically about the chore of removing his underwear he admired her exposed breast which seemed to have a found a life of its own, moving freely as she moved, the nipple still puckered and erect. 'A good sign', he thought fleetingly. 'She's really into this.'

Sitting now naked on the edge of the bed, his wife kneeling before him, he wondered whether she would give him a blow job. She had never been partial to that kind of foreplay. She said it made her gag. He decided that if Brenda was intent on pleasuring him in this manner, he felt courageous enough to teach her how he wanted it done. Brenda was content to fondle and stroke his cock, although she did make an effort to lick away the pre-cum. Encouraged by this tentative advance he reached out and tilted her chin upwards, saying: "I'll tell you how. Okay?" Brenda nodded. And then she smiled. Bob needed no further invitation.

"Here, hon," he said softly. "Place your one hand here, on my balls. Don't squeeze. Just gently cup and massage them. They'll like the warmth of your hands." Brenda did as she was asked. "Hmm, that feels good. Keep doing that. If you touch my ass, even go inside, I'd really like that. It's an erogenous zone, you know. That's it. Rub me there. Oh shit, yes. That's my girl. That feels really good.

"Now," he continued, "when you go down on me, remember you are making love to my cock. Gentle but confident. Take the head in your mouth, but not all at once. A little at a time. Suck and release. Suck and release. Use your tongue to massage the head and flick the eye. Yes, just like that," exclaimed Bob. "Oh, yes, just like that. Now use your other hand. Hold me at the base and move your hand as you have seen me masturbating, up and down the shaft as you work your tongue and mouth. A little more like that. Keep going. Oh shit, Brenda, keep going." With those final instructions Bob fell onto his back, opened his legs wide and let Brenda have her way with him.

As pleasurable as the experience was Bob knew that Brenda had stepped away from him earlier because this moment was too precious to end so soon. While he wanted to cum in her mouth with every fiber of his being he, too, wanted to prologue the pleasure of their love-making. At the first twitching of his cock, just moments now from ejaculating, he sat up and gently pulled himself away from her.