Chapter 20: A Resolution - of Sorts Little Cayman

A sudden knock on the loose-fitting screen door sounded like a gun shot, loud and jarringly unexpected.

With a faintly British accent, a young man's voice called out, "There's a phone call for Billy or Jean." And in another moment, "Anyone there?"

Jean and I looked at each other. I lifted an eyebrow that asked, 'Do you know?' She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, 'Beat's me.'

A naked Margi had slumped to her knees, one hand thrust between her thighs and the other unsuccessfully trying to cover her breasts. We were all uncomfortably aware that whoever it was had only to step off the walk to look through the unshuttered screens to see the three of us, mostly naked. We remained frozen.

"Anyone home?" the disembodied voice asked again, and again knocked.

Suddenly jarred from my inaction, I called out, "OK. Be right there." Turning to my sister and our friend, Margi, I held my hands out, palms up and whispered, "Stay here. I'll be right back."

Jean placed her hand on my arm and asked in a surprisingly loud voice, "Where'd you think we were going to go?"

"Shit, I don't know... but wait anyway, OK?"

Jean smiled and nodded. "Hurry back."

I slipped into some sailing shorts and a fresh T-shirt. As I was leaving, I glanced back to see Jean kneeling beside the cowering Margi. It occurred to me that if Margi wasn't concerned about her nudity, she might understandably be concerned about her job at this remote and high-priced dive resort.

Whoever had brought the message was gone when I went outside. Threading the darkened paths that connected our octagonal beach house with the larger central building, I reflected that only our Mom knew where we were. Entering the main structure, I walked into the bar where our hostess, Gladys, glanced up and nodded her head toward a phone receiver off the hook. "Your mom," she offered.

"Hello?"

"Billy? How are you? You and Jean OK?" It was Mom.

Damn, I should have called to let her know. "I'm sorry, Mom... " I began but she cut me off.

"Don't worry about it. That's OK. Gladys already told me that everything's fine; I just wanted to hear your voice. Or Jean's."

"We're fine." And then searching for something to say, I asked, "Remember Margi, the Dive Master from last year?"

"Oh, yes. I remember Margi. I'm sure you do!"

It amazed me how my mother could put so much suggestive meaning into her voice.

Before I could frame an answer, she went on, "Gladys said that the three of you had gone to listen to CD's after dinner. Having fun?"

Cripes. Half a world away. Did we have any privacy? I looked at Gladys and she smiled a conspiratorial, almost wolfish grin.

"Uh... yes. We were... " and I didn't know just what to say. "We were... uh, playing a game."

"Truth or Dare?" Mom asked.

What the hell is this, I wondered?

"How'd you know?" I asked, perplexed once again by my mother's seeming omniscience.

"I didn't, but it's what came to mind. Probably because that's what I'd do in the same situation." She paused and then went on, "You and Jean explore 'your situation' anymore?"

Our 'situation.' I was embarrassed. Even though we'd had an open, heart-to-heart conversation about sex, Mom and me, I still found it difficult to be comfortably candid.

"Uh... nothing new, Mom. We're OK, honest."

"Baby, I'm not checking up on you two. I love you both and have confidence that whatever you do, it'll be all right. Now get back to your party, tell Jean I love her and say hello to Margi. And oh yes. Tell Margi not to do anything I wouldn't do... and that leaves her a lot of latitude. Bye." she ended up laughing.

"Bye, Mom."

I turned to leave and Gladys said, "Tell Margi to relax."

"What?"

"Just relax, have a good time... that's all."

Once again I had the feeling that I wasn't completely in the know about what was going on. Were we that transparent?

I was mulling that over in my mind as I walked the darkened path back to our room. I noticed that the blinds were drawn and the room apparently dark as I let myself in. There was a yellow, dim light, a candle flickering on the night stand. One of Margi's CDs was playing, a soft, melodic sound that I didn't recognize, but I liked.

"Hi, Billy," two voices intoned, almost in unison. "Welcome back," added Jean.

"Margi, Gladys says, 'relax'."

"What?"

"Relax. She says to relax. That's all. You know what that's a about?"

"Uh, I'm not quite sure. But she thinks I'm too tense."

As I dark adapted, I saw Jean was sitting on the floor, legs outstretched, her back against the foot of the bed and Margi was leaning back against Jean in turn, between her legs. Jean was holding Margi loosely, one hand over a full breast. Both were naked as best I could see in the flickering light.

"We've been talking," Jean added, in response to the question unasked. "Margi's been telling me about her sex life."

Margi squirmed, I thought uncomfortably, and looked down, not saying anything.

"Isn't that so, Margi?" Jean asked, nudging her breast.

"Oh, Jean... don't," she murmured so softly I almost missed it.

"Oh, Jean, yes. Billy would be pleased to hear what you've been telling me." And then turning to me, she added, "Our little Margi's really quite experienced, Billy. Shy, but experienced. Right, Margi?"

She murmured something. I couldn't hear her, so I kneeled between her splayed legs and said, "What was that, sweet girl? What'd you say?"

"She'll tell you, Billy, but first she's got to be relaxed. That phone call scared her. Is everything all right?"

I nodded and offered no further explanation.

"Tell you what, Billy. Pull up the ottoman there behind you and sit facing us. Put your legs over Billy's, Margi so he can move in and be close. OK?"

Perhaps it was because of the dim, flickering candle light or perhaps Jean and Margi had come to some trust or understanding while I'd been talking with our mom because she didn't demure at all. Sliding up toward them, my own legs splayed, Margi lifted her's and dropped her thighs over mine. In turn, my legs were draped over Jean's. My dark adaptation and the candle light enabled me to appreciate the furry core of Margi's pelvis in the process.

"Hmmm, nice, Margi."

"Are you commenting on Margi's pussy, Billy?"

Margi gasped and I felt her trying to close her legs, but she was stuck in an open and exposed position.

Not waiting for a reply, Jean went on, "Tell Billy what you told me a few minutes ago, Margi."

"Oh, I couldn't... " she began but was cut off by Jean immediately.

"Sure you can, girl." Jean cupped both her breasts in her hands and rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger. She then turned her attention to me. "I'll start." she began. "Margi has always wanted to acknowledge her body as well as her sexuality. She told me that making out in the dark is fun certainly, but not exciting. She's attracted to the excitement. Aren't you, girl?"

Margi glanced at me and then tried to look up at Jean but couldn't manage fully. Jean nudged her again and she nodded.

"Aren't you?" prompted Jean.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I love the excitement."

"And?"

"And... I'm too embarrassed to ask for it."

Patiently, "For what, Margi?"

"For someone to tell me what to do." she said softly and then gaining some confidence, added in a louder voice, "I want to do things. All sorts of things, you know - sexy things - but I'm too shy. It's not that I don't want to try things, everything, it's that I'm so embarrassed. If someone, you, makes me do things... well, then I can't refuse. It's like it's not my fault. Then it's OK. Know what I mean?"

"Good, Margi. Now let me ask you this. Are you willing to tell Billy what our deal is?"

Margi nodded, studying the rug in front of her, not looking up.

"ARE you, girl?" Jean nudged her again.

Margi suddenly looked up at me and stared for a long moment before saying, "Yes, I am."

I touched her for the first time. I placed my hands on the tops of her thighs and slowly stroked up and down. "Then tell me, Margi. What's the "deal' - the one you've made with Jean. I'd like to hear you tell me."

She took a deep breath and blew it out. Then another before beginning. "I told Jean that I was so excited, so hot a little while ago - when we were playing Truth or Dare - that I would have done anything, and Jean asked, 'Anything?'"

She took another breath and continued. "When she asked me that, I was excited and afraid at the same time, but I guess I was more excited then frightened so I said, 'Yes, anything.'"

Jean continued to roll Margi's nipples in her fingers. They were swollen and dusky. I hunched a little closer and ran my fingers over the tops of her thighs, ending just an inch away from her public thatch. "Go on," I urged.

"She asked me if I'd be your slave for the night, the two of you's slave. I wasn't sure what that meant, but somehow it made me wetter."

She looked at me again and asked, "Know what I mean?"

"The slave part or the wetter part?" I asked.

"Uh... I figure you know about the wetter part. I'm horny. But do you know about the slave part? What does that mean to you?"

"No, Margi. The real question is: What does that mean to you?"

She looked down, nibbling on her lower lip and brushed the top of her pubic hair with her fingers. "Well, I think it means that I have to do what you tell me to do, that I have no choice."

I traced a line across the top of her pubic bush, meeting her hand in the process. She started to pull away but I grabbed her hand and pulled it back to the top of her pussy and held it there.

"Margi, it's important to know that you do have a choice. You always do. This is a game. That's all it is. And in this game, we play that you're a slave, our slave, and that you have to do the things we say. Keep in mind, if you agree, we'll expect you to keep your bargain. We'd never hurt you, but we might embarrass you and we just might make you even hornier. But you do have a choice. Do you understand that?"

After I removed my hand from her's, she resumed touching the area around the top of her slit, idly moving her fingers through her bush.

Oddly stronger, she went on. "Oh, I know that. And I've already made the decision. That's the "deal" I made with Jean. I'm yours for the evening and I have to do what I'm told." Glancing back, she added, "Isn't this right?"

Jean answered promptly, "That's right, girl and the first thing I want you to do is play with yourself. I'll play with your tits. You play with your little cunny. Yes, show Billy your pussy."

Jean has assumed a firm, directing voice and I took my clue from that. "While you're playing with yourself, Margi, tell us... when did you start masturbating?"