“No, the current owner bought it in the Sixties, and about two weeks later it burned to the ground…”
I laughed at that. “We call that Jewish lightning back in the States.”
He smiled and nodded. “I have heard the term. Well, he built the current structure, along with several others in the area, and designed them specifically as resorts for those individuals seeking something above the normal thing you’d find in Nassau.”
Expensive and high end, in other words. Well, if what we were paying was any indication, it was money well spent, even if the clientele was limited to the rich. “Well, it’s really very nice. What is your job?”
“Well, the title is concierge, but I am really the manager of the various properties for the owners. Still, if you want to do something not here, just call my office and either I or my assistant will make the arrangements.”
I must have looked confused, and I glanced at Marilyn and noticed her brows furrowed as well. “Like what?” she asked.
“Oh, well, say you wanted to go deep sea fishing or snorkeling or set up a dinner party or something. Just call the office and we can help you.”
“Ah.”
He handed me a business card with his name and number on it. “Perhaps you would care to look around the grounds and the resort?”
“Sure thing.” I stood up and Marilyn stood with me. “Who owns the resort now?”
Finch simply smiled. “The staff at la Valencia prides itself on its discretion.”
I shrugged and waved it off. “Just curious.” We followed him through the house. The kitchen, where Mrs. Wilkes was, was spotless and large. There were some basics and staples in the refrigerator and the pantry, but that was about it. She could serve us breakfast and lunch, with an unspecified amount to be tacked onto the bill. Anything after noon, however, would have to be specially ordered. That seemed fine to us, since we planned to go out for dinner.
Beyond the kitchen, were two more bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, although these opened up to public spaces. It would be very easy to split the resort into separate apartments, in case you brought a group of people down. Everything was done in white tile, with high ceilings and lots of windows and doors. It was very spacious and open.
Along the back side, facing the Atlantic, the various sections all opened onto a huge veranda and deck, with a swimming pool built in. From there you could walk down through a palm tree forest to the beach, or just wander through the palm trees. The beach was at least a thousand feet long and private, and the property was at least as large as our 25 acres back home, and very private. There was a groundskeeper in the morning who cleaned the pool and kept everything running and the grounds neat.
After lunch it would just be Marilyn and me. Hmmmmm…
When we got back to the house, Mrs. Wilkes had already left, as had the groundskeeper, and after inquiring whether we needed anything and signing some papers, Finch left us with a few brochures about island activities and his phone number. Then it was just Marilyn and me. However, before I could get funky with my wife, she said, “What are we doing for lunch?”
My own stomach growled as I contemplated the answer. We smiled at each other. “Maybe you should have asked Mrs. Wilkes before she left.” I led the way into the kitchen.
The kitchen was modern and had just about every appliance known to mankind. In fact the only drawback that I could see was that it was all electric; my preference was for gas. Regardless, I could work just fine in an electric kitchen. The fridge had the basics — eggs, milk, butter, and the like — so I asked Marilyn, “Omelet?”
“Sure. Anything I can do?”
I grinned. “Get undressed.”
“Carling!” she protested.
“It was worth a try.” I turned away and started searching through the drawers to look for a frying pan or skillet to use. I found a small pan and then went back over to the fridge. “I think it’s just scrambled eggs. No ham or cheese…”
Marilyn was standing there in her high heeled sandals and a smile… and nothing else! “Is this what you had in mind?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah…”For once my big mouth was speechless. Marilyn just looked amazing. She had lost almost all her baby weight, with the exception of her tits, which were larger. Her pussy was puffy and moist looking. Her legs looked perfect, and you could see where she had been working on her tan. She was now 26, and damn near perfect.
“Well, you did tell me to get undressed, and a wife is supposed to obey her husband, isn’t she?” she asked teasingly.
“I always liked that portion of the vow.”
I pulled the eggs and milk out of the refrigerator and dug out a mixing bowl, all the while trying to keep an eye on her. It got to be a problem when I tried opening the refrigerator door from the wrong side. “Problem?” Marilyn asked.
“Yeah, why don’t you come around over here, so we can talk.”
“Talk? I though you wanted to look.”
“Po-tay-to, po-taht-to.” Marilyn laughed at that and came over, and I lifted her up onto the counter. “Now isn’t that better?”
“Are you going to return the favor the next time I cook?” she asked.
“Aren’t you still under a court order from the Fayetteville Fire Department prohibiting your cooking?”
“Very funny! Maybe I should get dressed and let you cook by yourself?”
I chuckled and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. “I cook better when your oven is hot!”
“You’re disgusting!” she said with a smile.
“Maybe I need to check the oven temperature. I prefer a moist heat, too.”
That earned me a raspberry. Still, Marilyn sat there on the counter, inspiring me, so to speak, as I whipped up some eggs and poured them into a hot buttered skillet. Even better, her pointy little nipples and wet bare pussy made me think she was enjoying her part of the meal. I poured a couple of glasses of milk and set them on the kitchen table, and then split the eggs onto two plates. And then I scraped them off of one of the plates onto the other, leaving a pile on a single plate.
“What’re you up to?” asked my wife.
I pulled a chair away from the table and sat down on it. “Come here, take a seat?”
“Oh?” Marilyn hopped down off the counter and came closer. “What did you have in mind?”
I set the plate down on the table at my side, and then pulled her closer. I kept tugging so that Marilyn was forced to sit on my lap, facing me and straddling my legs. “Well, I was thinking…” I forked up some eggs and held them to her lips; Marilyn opened her mouth and I fed her the eggs. “… that if I was feeding you, you’d be free to use your fingers elsewhere.”
Marilyn moved her hands into her lap, between us. A moment later, I felt her fingers tracing across my belt and zipper. “Is this what you had in mind?”
I ate some of the eggs and smiled as I chewed them. After I swallowed them, I answered, “Yeah, I think you’re getting the idea.” I fed her some more eggs, and we traded bites for a bit. After a few minutes, I felt my belt getting loosened. Thankfully, I had adjusted myself before sitting down, so that Carl Junior was pointed north. Just after my zipper was tugged down, Marilyn’s hand slipped inside and began stroking me.
I quickly fed Marilyn and myself the eggs, without even drinking the milk. As soon as I could I set the plate and fork on the table, to put my hands elsewhere. My left hand went around her waist, and down to caress her rear and hold her against me, while my right hand began playing with her tits.
It was Marilyn’s turn to be aroused. Her back arched and I lowered my face to her chest, lifting her breasts up one at a time to begin sucking on her nipples. Marilyn continued to tug on my cock, but her efforts became quite distracted. She pressed her lips against mine, and as our tongues played with each other, I could taste the scrambled eggs again. Marilyn hurriedly unbuttoned my shirt and began rubbing herself against me.