Dear Randy Readers,
(For a change, my son Jimmy isn't cowriting this with me. Because it's about an actual vacation I took and he wasn't along.)
This trip took place several years ago. A girlfriend (a fellow attorney) and I took off on a four-week European vacation. Sally is married with three kids. She wanted a break from her family more than she needed time off from her job.
I wasn't married, never have been, but I have a son and daughter. In my case though, it wasn't kids I wanted to get away from, it was work. I work hard, work long exhausting hours and I just needed to get away.
Jenny was old enough, so I told myself, to look after Jimmy for a month.
So Sally and I, self-limiting ourselves to one Tumi case each, flew from JFK to Heathrow. We both had had a full Brazilian a couple of days earlier. Game on.
Our agreed upon goal, our primary goal, was to get laid. Sally is stacked. Around 5' 6" with dark raven hair. Big boobs, the kind that draw appreciative looks. From men anyway.
She wore her hair short, in a pixie cut that framed her oval face and dark eyes.
I'm taller with more sharply defined cheekbones and chin. Thick auburn hair, vivid green eyes. Small (34 b) boobs. But perky! Long legs, tight butt, tiny waist.
Sally and I, treating ourselves to first class, got hit on an hour into the flight. Unfortunately, the schedules didn't work out. Still, an encouraging sign.
We both have open, laughing personalities. And know how to flirt.
Sally was, mostly, faithful to her husband, a commercial real estate developer. But she had no such intentions during our self-proclaimed 'fuckation.'
I've never considered myself a slut, although some might argue, but I've always enjoyed sex. Right from the start, I was lucky in that sense. I imagine I'd been with more men than Sally, simply because her marriage slowed her down.
She did go through a rather promiscuous stage after the birth of each of her three kids, two boys, then a girl. Sally didn't delude herself, she knew she was, temporarily, a bit insecure about her sex appeal, her ability to attract men after all those months of pregnancy.
Been there, done that.
In any case, Sally had a nanny, I had Jenny. We would call home once in a while, but basically we put our families away in a tidy mental compartment and focused on ourselves. And men.
We were determined to get laid. And fairly confident in our ability to attract sufficient numbers of the male species. Since our target age range was from roughly 15 to 50 (although those weren't arbitrary numbers), the pool was quite deep.
Other than a brief college fling her freshman year, Sally hadn't been with another girl. I've been with a few, although a man is my first choice.
Sally and I saw each other in the gym shower three mornings a week, so we certainly knew how attractive the other one was. In the car service ride to JFK, Sally patted my hand, "If all else fails, we can get each other off."
Like I said, sex was in the air.
We had booked two-bedroom suites in London, Paris, Stockholm and Florence. Around a week in each city. I have a little French and Sally could get by in Italian. Sweden? Well, almost everyone there speaks English. And sex is the universal language.