Dinner and... more?

It took considerable courage for Marsella to text Matt so soon. In the end it was anger at her husband that forced her hand. She had gotten ready for dinner, an elaborate process when her husband was involved, and was waiting at the desk next to the bed for Cedric to pick her up. He texted her first, his softball attempt to let her down easy.

“Might be late, keep you posted”

Marsella knew he would be cancelling in the next few minutes. It was always like when they came here. He treated it like a daycare for trophy wives. She watched her phone for several minutes until it rang and Cedric was on the other end.

“Hey, looks like I’ll miss dinner, my love,” he shouted. Marsella could hear the bumping bass of the club pounding in the background.

The conversation didn’t last long. It didn’t need to. Cedric did his part and he was off to galavant around the town. Marsella was just supposed to be okay with it. He would expect her to order room service and wait dutifully for him to arrive at the bungalow. Past experience told her he wouldn’t be back until the next morning.

She pouted in the bungalow for a few minutes. She didn’t necessarily want to be around her husband in the first place but to just leave her alone all day without regard for her well being was another matter, especially after she had spent the afternoon with Matt.

So, she texted him. It felt good to defy her husband like that. It probably wouldn’t go anywhere, she reasoned, people with tech money are always on the go.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

“Absolutely. Where should I meet you?”

—

Matt beat her to the restaurant this time. He got a table for the two of them in the same place as that afternoon which was quite a bit closer to his bungalow than hers, though he didn’t know that yet.

He saw her first and he paused before waving her over.

Wow.

She wore a tight black dress that was nothing like her previous outfit over lunch. It flowed down to the floor with a sheer floral patter along the sides up to a tight corset that held her breasts without any straps over her shoulders. Her arms and neck were bare save for a long black necklace that plunged into her cleavage. He could hear her heels from the table.

Matt finally waved her over and she hurried to the table with a smile. As she got closer she only looked more radiant. Matt stood as she approached and she met him with a soft hug.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting,” Marsella said as she sat.

“You look incredible,” Matt said with a grin, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Well my evening got cancelled on me so here I am,” she said with a shrug.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Matt said. “But, I mean, now I have someone to hang out with. Sounds like his loss.”

Marsella took a sip of water and considered telling Matt why her husband was unavailable. She decided against it.

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” she said. “And I think we need a glass of wine.”

Matt’s face hardly moved.

“They’re not going to card you,” Marsella teased.

Matt chuckled. “I just haven’t really, uh... had anything like that.”

Marsella grinned mischievously. “In that case, I know just what you should try.”

She beckoned a waiter to the table and ordered two glasses of... something. The French terms dripped off her tongue naturally and beautifully but Matt couldn’t identify any of the words.

“You’ll love it,” she said as the waiter dipped toward the kitchen. “I’ll only be a little offended if you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t want to do that,” Matt said, “now I’m even more nervous!”

The wine arrived seconds later. A man walked a tall pitcher of ice on a wheeled cart with the bottle perched inside. He popped it open and poured each of them a glass. Marsella clinked her glass against Matt’s and took a long sip, but he was more hesitant. The dark red liquid slipped down his throat and he nearly coughed, recovering smoothly enough while his date stifled a laugh. He didn’t have the vocabulary to describe the taste, smooth and bitter but still sweet and... boozy. It wasn’t bad.

“What did you think?” Marsella teased.

“It’s good!”

“You don’t have to lie,” she said grinning.

“No, really. It just surprised me, is all.”

It was easier to talk to Marsella tonight despite her more pronounced charms. The vibe was more comfortable, familiar. He tried not to say too much and let it slip that he wasn’t an obscenely wealthy internet guy, but the conversation was lively. Dinner came and they ate in between hearty laughter. Before he knew it an hour had passed, and then a second. It was the longest dinner date he’d been on.

“It’s getting late,” Marsella said, “shall we leave?”

Matt stood and the pair slowly walked out into the warm evening. The sun was nearly gone, casting only a single long beam of light across the ocean, just minutes away from sinking completely into the sea and allowing night to take its place.

“Walk with me?” Marsella said.

She looped her hand through Matt’s arm casually, not saying anything or calling attention to it. Matt knew better than to bring it up. The resort was still very much alive. The waves provided the background noise for laughter, music, and pockets of entertainment throughout the grounds.

“I definitely need to come around here more often,” Matt said as they passed under a palm tree.

“It’s a beautiful place,” Marsella agreed.

She tugged him down the path toward the beach, her heels clicking against the concrete. As they neared the beach they could see a bonfire starting to dominate the landscape with the sun vanished behind the endless ocean. Marsella stopped to remove her shoes and quickly shrunk several inches.

“Always feels good to take those off,” she sighed, stepping onto the sand. “I love the beach.”

“You don’t look dressed for the beach,” Matt commented, “is your dress going to be okay?”

“It’s just a dress,” she shrugged.

Matt snaked his arm behind Marsella’s waist, hugging her in close against his side. She didn’t protest, walking in step with him and swinging her shoes back and forth. The bonfire cast long shadows over the sand and the sea disappeared into darkness. A party was forming around the fire. A handful of open tents were filled with food and even a full bar.

“Looks like this is going to get crazy,” Matt said.

Marsella looked up at him and bit her lip. “Come on, let’s dance!”

She quickly pulled him into the growing crowd around the fire. The energy in the crowd was at a fever pitch, anxious and ready to throw down. A cry erupted from the party goers and Matt realized there was a sound system. It sounded with fury and the dancing began. The bass bumped and the crowd responded. Matt soon found Marsella in his arms, twirling in the sand between the bodies. The shadows danced on her face and her dress kicked sand over Matt’s feet.

Marsella didn’t get to lose herself often and she intended to do exactly that. The music echoed in her brain, loud and pulsing and she let her body move with the beat, writhing against her date. He stood still and watched, overwhelmed in the environment and with her boldness. The wine played a part, yes, but the rest was the music and the night and Matt. The melody of the tune dropped away and only the bass remained and the crowd went wild, clapping the deliberate rhythm and whooping with wild, drunk abandon.

Marsella knew how to party and she knew how to dance. As the beat pounded she backed into Matt, grinding her ass purposefully against him and leaning her head back on his chest. It took him a minute but he placed his hands on her waist and, a few seconds later, moved his hips with hers.

Yes!

She danced against Matt, sinking into his arms. The music didn’t end, blasting into the night. Marsella pulled out all her old tricks from the days she was allowed in a club, teasing and rubbing across his body. Her husband wasn’t anywhere in her thoughts, only the music and the night.

Matt was overwhelmed. The gorgeous blonde was all over him, her ass firmly planted on his hips, bouncing with the beat. Matt kept his hands on her hips, moving very little, unsure what exactly he was expected to do. The music, and alcohol brought around by staff, increased his confidence slowly until he started to push the boundaries Marsella had set with her dance.

This was exactly what she wanted.

Matt’s hands crawled upward and forward from her waist, stopping just below the bust of her dress. Marsella’s hair was caked to her forehead with sweat and it dripped slowly down her face in the warm night made hotter by the roaring fire and the press of bodies around them. She moaned when he finally worked up the courage to grab her breasts, the sound lost in the music even to her own ears, the vibrating of her voice in her throat the only indication she made any noise at all.

His fingers sunk around the corset flaps over Marsella’s chest, the firm fabric unable to hide how soft, and massive, her breasts were. She grinned when he pulled her back against him, his hips changing from a rolling grind almost imperceptibly to a thrust. It only lasted a few bars before Matt realized what he was doing but that was just long enough for Marsella to indulge the fantasy of taking Matt to her bungalow and letting him—

The DJ interrupted the music to give a speech about someone or something, killing the crowd’s energy. Without the music Marsella noticed that it was very late. In fact, it was too late. She debated staying, she wanted to, but she knew what could wait for her if she didn’t be more careful, and what she had already done with Matt could cause some very big problems for them both.

“I need to go,” she said, tugging him away hurriedly.

Matt didn’t protest, following along as the music started go again. Marsella whimpered to herself, desperate to throw caution in the wind and return to the party with her date. As the music faded Matt became more aware of Marsella’s conflicted attitude.

“Marsella, wait,” he said. He knew why they had to leave but he felt he should say something. It didn’t matter that he had no idea what to say, right?

“Matt, I can’t,” she said, slowing her legs but continuing to walk.

“Just a moment, please?”

“Matt,” she said again, “I’m married, okay? I can’t just... whatever. I have to get back to my room.”

“I know but, I just—“ he started. He didn’t know what to say. What could he say?

Marsella sighed, but her phone buzzing providing a momentary distraction. It was a message from Lyla, an associate of Cedric’s who is almost a friend.

“Hey, Cedric sent me, where are you?”

Fuck.

“I have to go, Matt, I’m sorry,” she said, pulling her dress up so she could run.

Matt grabbed her arm to tug her back around. He just wanted to talk, just another moment. He pulled back too hard, much more aggressive than he intended and Marsella was yanked back toward him. She stumbled and Matt tried to catch her as she flailed and turned around.

They kissed.

Their lips met as Marsella fell. It may not have been Matt’s intention, but the pair saw the opportunity in the split second she was falling into his arms, and their open mouths collided in the dark. Eyes closed with the heat of the kiss, lips melting and arms wrapped around their bodies. Matt held the older blonde tight, lightly picking her feet off the ground. It was a good kiss. Marsella’s breathing nearly stopped while her heart pounded in her chest, echoing in her ringing ears from the party on the beach.

Marsella pulled away first, her lips lingering against Matt’s and her gaze meeting his. He saw a tear spring in one eye and she jumped from his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” she said, dashing away.

—

Matt took a scenic route back to his room, disappointed that Marsella had to run off but understanding of her troubles. He was a little worried about what he was feeling for her, however...

Marsella had different worries. She sprinted to her bungalow and nearly leaped inside. Lyla was inside, sitting carefully on the bed.

“Goddamnit, Marsella,” she said.

“I know, I know,” she said, chest heaving for air as sweat clung to her skin.

“He wants a picture and I’ve been stalling. Does he know you brought that dress?”

Marsella shook her head.

“Okay, get it off. Find pajamas and tie your hair back. He’ll be happy if you were in bed.”

Marsella hurried to obey, jumping into a silky nightshirt and diving into the bed next to Lyla. She snapped a quick selfie after Marsella wiped her sweat.

“That should be fine,” she said.

“Why’d he send you tonight?”

“To keep you company,” Lyla said, “but also I think he thinks we’ll fuck.”

Lyla knew Marsella’s situation. She knew Cedric was controlling to the point of abuse and, unfortunately, was often one of his tools to extend his mastery over Marsella’s life. Lyla was one of Cedric’s approved companions for his wife for several reasons, chiefly that he liked to fuck them both together. Whenever he wanted someone to “check in” Lyla was a favorite. He assumed Lyla wouldn’t lie and could be used to confirm Marsella’s activities or whereabouts. Unbeknownst to Cedric, Lyla always helped Marsella lie.

“What did you tell him you were doing tonight?” Lyla asked.

“He didn’t ask,” Marsella replied, panting.

“Sunning yourself on the deck and then an early bedtime?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“What about dinner?”

“Fuck. I didn’t order room service. He could check that.”

“You weren’t hungry. Any snacks in here?” Lyla asked.

“Those awful crackers he likes in my bag.”

Lyla found them and tore the bags open just to dump them in the trash. The crackers themselves she heaved into the grass outside.

“That was your dinner,” she announced.

“Thank you,” Marsella said.

Lyla smiled sadly. “I don’t think he’s coming back tonight, but he was careful to mention he would be...”

“Oh god a threesome? After ditching me all day?” Marsella groaned.

“Sorry,” Lyla said, “that’s why I had to change into... this.”

She beckoned to her outfit, a wildly slutty silver dress that showed so much cleavage her nipples easily popped free anytime she moved.

“Fine, I guess it’s inevitable,” Marsella said, defeated.

—

That was a great kiss.

Matt could hardly think about anything else. He couldn’t believe how much he missed Marsella, even after only spending one day with her. Based on her quick exit he wouldn’t hear from her for a while.

Hopefully he hadn’t lost his chance.