Chapter 3

Dani

I tried to be honest with my husband, I really had. But how do I tell him how devastated I was when Alan accepted that scholarship to Georgia instead of Washington State? How, now, thirty-one years after I’d last seen him, I’m still so in love with him.

It was why I hadn’t wanted to dredge up the memories when Robert started asking me about ‘my first time’. I’d stored it all in the far, inaccessible recesses of my mind, and that was where I had intended it to stay. Forever. I hadn’t lied when I told him what a wonderful life we’ve had together. And I think that when I said I wasn’t ‘that girl’ anymore, I was trying to convince myself as much as him. Maybe even more.

I’d put my memories of that year with Alan in the dark recesses of my mind, where they belonged, hoping they’d stay there forever. And then that night, that weird, incredible, impossible night. I hadn’t thought too much about it when those hours just seemed to disappear. I’d been out with my best friend, Jenny, drinking a little; not much, but I’m not used to alcohol so when those hours disappeared, I just assumed I’d drunk a little more than I thought. Earlier in the evening, Jen and I had even reminisced a little about that night, that it was the thirty-second anniversary of our senior homecoming, when she was a princess and I was queen. I never told her about me and Alan – after the dance, but I think she guessed. Especially, later, when I couldn’t keep it from her that Alan and I were sleeping together.

But then Robert started telling me what he’d seen that night ... and the memories came rushing back.

And the fear. The fear of myself. Of those memories.

Now, we’re on a plane heading toward Tampa ... and toward what, I have no idea. I know that Alan still has feelings for me. I also know that neither of us can act on those feelings. Why my husband wants to do this, I have no idea. I think he has some weird fantasy that I have no intention of fulfilling. I just can’t.

I’ve been nervous and scared about this trip ever since Robert convinced me to send that message to Alan. I didn’t want to do this. I DON’T want to do it! The simple reason I don’t is that I want to so badly. Does that make sense? I don’t want to because I do want to. I haven’t wanted anything so badly for a long, long time as seeing Alan Ryder again. That’s why this trip is such a huge mistake. I know how hard it’s going to be to resist him, but I have to. There’s no other alternative. And from reading between the lines of his messages, he’s not going to make it easy. He never came out and said it, but I know he wants me.

Well, actually, he did say it ... almost. One of his first messages, I remember it, ‘that’s why I’m still single. No one could ever come to the standard you set.’

He’s still single ... because of me!

My husband is beside me, smiling, eyes closed, probably trying to get a little sleep. I probably should, too, but I’m too nervous. Last night, should I say, was ‘energetic’. Ever since Alan’s come back into our lives, our sex life has been ... suffice it to say, that it was late before we went to sleep.

I know I should wake him up and tell him that we need to just turn around and go home once we get there. But it’s too close, I just can’t. I told Alan that we’d see him at his restaurant tomorrow at seven, not before.

I also didn’t pack anything that’s even remotely sexy for dinner; just Fruit-of-the-Loom underwear and padded bra, slacks, and a sweater. Pretty, but not sexy, loose-fitting to not show anything that a man could misconstrue. It would have been fun, but I sure don’t need that distraction when we see him. And if I don’t have anything with me, I won’t be tempted. Alan will see nothing but a mildly frumpy, middle-aged woman, not the sexy siren of thirty-one years ago. I didn’t even bring makeup or perfume.

I tried to think of everything before making this trip. Badly as I want to see Alan, I don’t want to have anything physical with him; well, I do, but just can’t. The only time we’ll see him will be at his restaurant in public, then the next day we’re flying home. Robert wanted to stay until Monday since it was a holiday, but I convinced him that I had too much schoolwork that needed done Monday. I don’t, but he doesn’t need to know that.

I closed my eyes, trying to get a little sleep, but those visions from so long ago, the back of his pickup truck and others just won’t go away. The same as they haven’t the last months, ever since ‘that night’. I’m pretty sure they haven’t left Robert’s mind, either. What I haven’t told him was just how much I enjoyed just being with Alan. He was funny, polite (except when we were fucking), and constantly flirting, making me feel perpetually sexy. Before he accepted the Georgia scholarship, I expected that we’d probably marry. Then he couldn’t even come back summers with his football schedule.

I know I should feel regret, maybe shame for that year, but I don’t. I was only eighteen and in love with my man. Not just with the sex, but the man. Circumstances interfered and I have had a wonderful life with the man I subsequently chose. No regrets.

It’s why I can’t spend time with him. It would be so easy to get caught up in those old emotions and go too far, way too far, sparking those emotions back into a raging torrent. And then I don’t know if I could quell them again.

I justified myself not telling my husband all this. I knew that we’d have a quick hug for old times sake, dinner, then Robert and I back to our room and home the next morning, no harm no foul. Except for those reawakened memories that I’d eventually put back where they belong. I was a woman, not a young girl anymore. I had all the power to prevent anything happening.

We got to the Meridian in the rental car a little after nine and were taken aback with it. Not exactly what we’d expected. Beautiful, high-rise, different than anything we’d stayed in before. It’s horseshoe-shaped, with a big outdoor swim pool in the middle. The clerk told us our room was ready as soon as Robert gave her our name. She didn’t even ask for our credit card, which we both thought was strange.

We were on the fourteenth floor. In the hallway, there’s one place with a big picture window overlooking the beautiful pool. I drooled a little, wanting to go for a swim, but unfortunately, we hadn’t brought any suits. It’s February – outdoor pool. We didn’t take into consideration that it’s also Florida.

Our room had a beautiful view of the bay from the balcony, the city lights reflecting off the water. We both stood on the balcony gazing out, transfixed at the beautiful scene. We are not used to high-seventies late at night in the middle of February. And we discovered a bar in our room, stocked with several different wines, mixers, and very expensive looking alcohol. There was a note on top, ‘Hope you enjoy, A’, signed in the flourish that I remembered from his cards to me way back when. Another memory dredged out.

We laughed a little about what Alan had done, not realizing that neither of us drink hardly at all.

When we talked about going swimming in the pool, we were disappointed that we hadn’t thought to bring swimsuits. Robert suggested with a laugh that maybe we didn’t need one.

“Don’t think management would approve,” I told him.

“But you do want to swim?” he asked me.

“If I had a suit, love to, it’s such a pretty pool.”

He called the front desk, asked if there was someplace close we could buy a suit. When he got off the phone, he told me, “There’s a store about a half-mile. She said to stop at the desk and she’d give me a map. But if it’s closed, they have a few that had been left behind and one might fit.”

About a half-hour later, he was back, carrying a sack. “The store was closed,” he said, “but...” he took a man’s suit out and handed me the bag, “they only had one that was anywhere close to your size,” with a bit of a red face.

I took it and pulled out a tiny bikini, a freakin’ bright orange thong. “I can’t wear this!” I told him, a little frustrated. I guess it wasn’t his fault that they only had this one. But he got the brunt of my frustration. I really had wanted to go swimming in that beautiful pool. Besides, the thing wasn’t even lined! It would show every curve and bump.

“Why not? No one here knows us. We’ll never see any of them again.”

He’s right, why not? Other than the fact that I don’t do naked in front of strangers. I’ve never in my life worn anything like that out in public. My suit at home that I didn’t bring is a one-piece with a little skirt around the waist because I don’t like to show off too much of my hips.

“I’ll put it on. Maybe,” I told him.

So, here I was, in the bathroom, taking my clothes off for these little orange triangles held together by string. No wonder someone left it. It felt weird when I pulled the bottoms tight and tied the strings on both sides of my hips. Besides feeling naked and having that thong-string in my ass, I realized that If I was going to wear it, I had to trim pubic hairs.

I opened the door just a crack, I didn’t want Robert to see yet. “Hon, can I borrow your shaver?” I asked him. So, while I was watching, he plopped his suitcase on one of the beds and dug out his shaving kit, handing it to me.

I closed the door again and pulled the little triangle aside, trimming those stray hairs that had been poking out on both sides. I keep myself trimmed, but not to the extent that I had to be with this thing on.

Then the top, the string behind my back, I tied it in front and turned the top around, then the knot behind my neck and it was done.

When I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t believe that I was going to do this. The woman in the mirror ... she wasn’t me. That woman might even enjoy the camel toe that had already appeared in her swimsuit. But me? I felt completely naked.

But as I was looking, I thought that I’d love for Alan to see me like this, discover what he lost by leaving that fall. I’ve always worked hard, gone to a gym to keep my body in shape. Tight tummy, nice hips, tits still more than firm, especially for a forty-nine-year-old woman. I was proud of my body. I knew I could pass for ten years younger.

That sexy woman in the mirror was me. And she still looked naked!

Too bad all he’ll see is a body safely hidden behind a loose-fitting sweater and slacks.

I noticed my hair; long, dark-brown, lustrous. I’ve always been blessed with beautiful hair. Alan loved running his fingers through my hair. I loved it, too. It looked good falling over my bare shoulders, down my back.

And, my nipples were hard and pointy through the thin material, probably that way because it was just then that I realized I’m actually in the same city as Alan, the first time in thirty-one years. Knowing that I’m seeing him tomorrow ... suffice it to say that it’s going to be a long twenty-two hours. Well, that and knowing that I’m going out in public ninety-nine-percent naked. I giggled, realizing how much it was turning me on.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, my husband saw me, and his face instantly went into ‘Holy crap’ mode All he could say was “Wow,” followed up a moment later by, “I like it!”

He would. He’s a man. He’s perfectly covered in a long, baggy swimsuit. I’m the one mostly naked. Speaking of which, I realized I didn’t have anything for a coverup to wear between our room and the pool.

He wrapped his arms around me, hands down to my butt cheeks, massaging them for a moment, “You need to wear this at home!” as his hand worked its way around to the front, between my legs. “I really, really like it!”

I slapped his hand away. I wanted to swim. Then...

“You bring anything I could wear over this?” I asked him. I knew I hadn’t. We went through his suitcase and didn’t find anything that would look decent, so I settled for tying a towel around my waist. “Guess I’m ready,” I told him.

It was fine until the lobby. Seeing the knowing smile on the girl’s face behind the counter and the older couple watching me. She knew what was under the towel and gave me a thumbs-up along with the smile. The man, probably in his seventies, was staring at me and his wife was glaring, intermittently between me and her husband. I nearly died with embarrassment, feeling the blush in my face.

I knew how the girl in the ‘Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini’ must have felt. I would have happily worn this swimsuit when I was eighteen, if it had even existed, which it hadn’t, but NOT as a forty-nine-year-old woman.

I was certain that every eye in the pool area was fixed on me when I stepped down in the water, peeled off the towel, and tossed it up on the pool’s deck. Except I missed and it landed in the water, right at the edge, getting instantly soaked. Crap! Now what? I won’t be able to wear a soaked towel back to our room. I looked around, hoping there were loose towels but didn’t see any. Apparently, everyone just brought towels from their room.

Robert and I swam out to the middle and I stood in about four feet of water. He got a big smile on his face and motioned, “Uhh, sweetheart, you might want to check it out,” pointing at my body. I looked down and was mortified all over again. Not only was the thing little, but it had turned totally transparent in the water, sticking to my skin, almost like it wasn’t there. I hadn’t even thought about that when I saw that it was unlined. Carol or Susan or whatever her name is at the front counter must have known. She’s probably in there laughing her head off right now!

I didn’t know what to do. Swimming on my tummy, my bare butt was out; on my back or standing, my virtually naked tits. At least for the moment, I tread water, in up to my neck. This had been a BAD idea!

Robert was encouraging me, mentioning again that we’d never see anyone here again, dog-paddling around me, closer and closer, until I felt a hand underneath the water, slipping under the front of the suit, “No one’s here that knows us,” he said again, trying to justify what he was doing to me. Okay, I’ll admit, it was turning me on, too.

“Hon, stop it, people will see!” And they were looking, at the nearly fifty-year-old woman with the thong and nasty, horny husband.