They wake up

The next morning, the island was even more surreal.

John woke to the soft sound of waves and Claire’s body curled against his, warm and barely clothed under the thin sheet. Her hair spilled over his chest, her breath slow, her leg thrown over his.

He didn’t want to move. Not ever.

But she stirred first, stretching with a small groan and smiling up at him. “Morning, husband.”

“Morning, beautiful.”

She kissed his chest, then slid out of bed, bare and glowing in the early light. “I’m going to swim.”

“Like this?”

She turned, completely naked, and raised her eyebrows. “Why not?”

He blinked. Then grinned. “Good point.”

She walked out to the pool without looking back.

⸻

Later, they wandered the island, exploring quiet trails, spa menus, and beach bars that looked like they were built into the cliffs. It felt like paradise.

By the afternoon, they found themselves at the resort’s main infinity pool. It overlooked the sea, and the vibe was looser here. Couples in tiny swimsuits. Laughter that sounded just a little too flirtatious.

And Laila was already there.

She waved the moment she saw them. She was lying on her stomach, bikini untied, reading something on her tablet.

“Hey, neighbors!” she called.

Jason sat beside her, legs spread, wearing dark trunks and sunglasses. He nodded once as they approached.

Claire and John set their towels nearby. “Small island,” she joked.

“Perfect size,” Laila replied, flipping over onto her back. Her bikini top stayed off.

John looked away, then glanced back. She didn’t seem to care who was looking.

Laila smirked. “You guys check out the fantasy menu yet?”

John shook his head. “Haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Oh, you should,” she said, sitting up now, her breasts fully exposed, like it was nothing. “It’s fun. Even if you’re just curious. You can rate things one to five stars. They’ll tailor your stay around your preferences.”

John laughed nervously. “Like… what kind of things?”

Jason spoke for the first time. “Everything.”

His voice was low, calm. There was weight behind it.

Laila leaned forward, playful. “You’d be surprised what you learn about yourself with the right options.”

She glanced at Claire. “Some women don’t know what they want until it’s right in front of them.”

Claire didn’t flinch. “And some men don’t know what they can handle.”

Laila’s smile widened. “Exactly.”

⸻

That night, back at the villa, the air felt different.

They sat on the deck, the pool lit softly beneath them. A warm breeze passed over the water. Claire was in a thin robe, curled into John’s lap with a cocktail in hand.

“Do you think they were… testing us?” she asked, sipping slowly.

John brushed his fingers through her damp hair. “Definitely.”

She tilted her head back to look at him. “And?”

He paused. “I didn’t hate it.”

“Me neither.”

There was silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It was full of something unspoken—like a flame building but not yet visible.

After a while, Claire set her drink down and stood. She undid the tie on her robe slowly and let it fall.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

John swallowed.

“You just gonna sit there?” she asked, stepping into the pool.

He followed.

⸻

The water was warm, the night still.

They moved together like magnets, slowly, her body sliding against his. He kissed her collarbone, her shoulder, her mouth. She kissed him back hard.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and whispered, “You want to know something crazy?”

“Always.”

“When Jason looked at me at the pool… I got wet.”

He stopped moving for a second.

“You’re serious?”

She nodded, biting her lip. “And when Laila touched your hand? You got hard.”

John blushed, then laughed. “You noticed that?”

“Oh yeah.”

She leaned in, kissing his ear. “But you’re mine. Every inch. Every twitch.”

“I know.”

Her voice got softer. “But maybe… just maybe… we could let someone look. Maybe even… touch.”

John’s breath caught.

“You want that?” he asked.

“I want to know what it feels like,” she said. “To be watched. To be wanted. By someone else.”

He swallowed. “And me?”

She smiled against his skin. “You get to watch too.”

⸻

They didn’t have sex that night.

Instead, they touched each other slowly in bed, whispering things they’d never said before. Fantasies. Scenarios. Softly spoken sins.

John told her he dreamed of seeing her with someone else. That he sometimes imagined her on her knees for another man, then coming home to him—his good girl with dirty secrets.

Claire giggled, pressed her forehead to his, and whispered…