From where I stopped, I could almost see them drooling, still rather cocky.
“Which of you do I have to thank for the drink?” I smiled sweetly.
“That would be me,” smiled the slightly older of them. With a knowing glance at the other two he added, “but I think we’re all grateful, just to have you come over here to say hi.” None of them were very discreet about their eyes roaming over me.
Okay, there was that something I still disliked, but my body adored the looks.
“I’m Karl,” the drink buyer said, “how were you thinking about thanking me?”
I let a little grin turn up the corners of my mouth. “Are you going to invite me to join you, or do you just want me to stand here and let you stare?”
The older guy chuckled, “That’s’ a kinda tough choice,” as he looked me over.
“Well then,” I said, and turned to face the pool, my ass now two feet from the closest of them and uncovered except for the tiny triangle that joined the hip straps to the single thin strap that disappeared between my glutes. I took another step and turned back to them.
“Does that make the choice easier or harder?” I smiled wickedly, running the fingers of my left hand over the top edge of my bikini bottom to focus their attention on the pubic hair curling out there.
“Definitely harder,” said the one on the right.
“Yeah, harder for sure,” added the one on the left laughing at his own pun. Even in their suit pants, I could see the appreciative responses of the wingmen.
The guy on the left finished his grinning and now sat there with his mouth slightly open intently staring at my bottom, I think trying to engage his x-ray vision to see how much pubic hair I had – and the rest of my pussy as well. None of the suit was lined, so they all were getting a pretty well-defined idea of that area anyhow. The abstract patches of color on the suit only hid so much, the fabric itself being so thin that it looked painted on.
“How long you been married?” I asked the distracted young man.
He looked up at me with a blank look.
“Married. How long?” I asked again, waving my left hand and my rings in front of his face, and then pointing to the band on his left hand. My wedding band and the engagement ring Tony had given me long ago were always on my hand proudly.
He went bright red.
“You all need to call your wives, and tell them what a bore this convention is, and how you’re just sitting in your room watching TV,” I said as I looked at each face. Only the oldest guy returned my gaze, the other two had their eyes down.
“Thanks for the drink,” I said to him politely. “I hope you feel you’ve been repaid.” He nodded without looking away. There was still something in his look, – a haughtiness, – entitlement, – something.
I laughed aloud. That seemed to confuse him.
“What?” he asked.
I grinned and shook my head. He looked at the two other men who also seemed confused and shrugged and held up their hands. I had noticed that the Lothario was all talk and no visible sign of his interest was showing in his pants. I made a mental note too, that the clear acrylic tabletops hid nothing below, giving me naughty ideas for myself later.
I turned and walked confidently back around the pool to my lounge, knowing that they were staring at my backside the entire way, – and trying to figure out why I’d laughed.
The rap on my hotel room door at seven forty-five, just like the day before, indicated my breakfast had arrived. The conference sessions didn’t start until nine this morning, a concession from the planners I supposed as it was Saturday morning. In the tee-shirt, I knew my nipples would be visible, as would the sway of my breasts, but they wouldn’t be in plain sight as they had been yesterday.
“Good morning, Mrs. Gunter,” Roberto smiled. “Shall I bring in your breakfast?”
“Good morning, Roberto. Yes, please. I’ll have it on the balcony again, if you don’t mind?”
For just a second I noticed his glance hesitate, perhaps disappointed that I was covered up this morning, but he proceeded to enter with the food tray in one hand and the serving dolly in the other, and headed out to set up by the balcony table. I slid into the seat opposite where he was serving from, hiking the t-shirt up as I sat so I was bare assed on the cool metal seat. Like the tables out by the pool, this one too had a clear acrylic top.
“Did you sleep well, ma’am?” he asked as he retrieved the first dish and turned toward me, stopping cold. My legs were closed, but the t-shirt was up at my waist, and the thick mass of my curly black pubic hairs was quite visible.
Roberto’s smile went from professional pleasant to genuine thrilled. His hand holding my bacon, egg, and tomato omelet stopped in mid air as his eyes went to my waist, then met my own and went back to my pussy again.
“is there a problem?” I asked as innocently as I could, allowing my knees to part about six inches, giving him a bit more of a view of my bush.
His eyes came up to meet mine. “No, not at all, Mrs. Gunter,” he replied, setting the plate down well to my right so as to not block his view, and turning back to the tray.
As Roberto came back to face me, I grinned at the tightening of his hotel issue pants. His eyes were focused on the table, or should I say, through it, as he lowered the coffee cup and set it to my left.
“I think it would be alright, under the circumstances, if while you’re here, that you call me Rita,” I smiled, moving my right foot back a bit and bringing my knees another few inches apart.
“Mr. Gunter might not..”
“My husband knows that I like to be seen, and he likes me being seen, alright?”
He raised his eyes to mine and looked at me deeply, his eyes seemingly near tears. “Would you take off your shirt please, Rita, you have the most sensuous, wonderful breasts I have ever seen anywhere?”
“You want me to have my breakfast completely nude?” I asked in mocked surprise.
“Please…”
I smiled, “Well, as you said please…” The t-shirt came off and I laid it over the arm of the other chair.
“My god.” He said. I was sure the pants he was wearing got tighter. As did my nipples responding to his admiration.
“Could you pour me some coffee, please?” I nodded to my empty cup.
As he did, I asked “Did your friends like the pictures?”
His hand shook but he got all the coffee in the cup and none spilled.
I began to cut into the omelet. “Did they?” It tasted delicious as I kept my eyes on the flustered young man, a smile curling my lips.
“Tony and I both said you could have the pictures, even when you said you’d show them to your friends,” I said after finishing the bite and still not getting an answer. “So, did you show them to your friends?” Another bite of the omelet, just as delicious, went between my lips.
He nodded, “Just a few,” he said apologizing.
I smiled, “And?” I asked.
“They asked if I got them out of a magazine or off the net, that no woman that beautiful would ever let me take pictures of her…” he smiled, his eyes continuing to dart to my chest which remained stiff in response to his hungry looks, and more often now to my lower regions when he thought I didn’t notice.
“You took them without permission,” I stated plainly, taking the last of the omelet into my mouth.
He looked chastised. “I know. I’m sorry,” he exhaled. “But Rita, you were, – are- , so beautiful, the most exquisite, most magnificent woman I have ever seen!” he said with unabashed honesty. “I swore to them that you were real, and that….” he stopped abruptly.
“That what?” I asked with concern.
He lowered his eyes, and not to any part of my body, but the floor.
“It was stupid….. I said I’d get you holding the menu, the room service menu, so they knew you were actually here and that I had not made you up.”
I almost laughed. I was afraid he’d broken his agreement and given my name or my room number out to the whole staff.
I picked up the menu with the hotel name on the front and pushed my chair away from the table. I got up and moved the chair away a bit more, along the clear glass wall railing, certain that Roberto was staring at my naked ass the whole time.
Taking my seat again, as demurely as a naked, stimulated woman can, I asked, “Do you have your camera?”
His eyes got as big as one of those funny emojis with the googly eyes and he nodded, digging in his pocket.
He swung the cellphone up to his face.
“Not yet,” I smiled. “You have to promise, like before, that you won’t identify me, that my face will be cropped out of ALL pictures, and that they’ll never be put on the internet, anywhere,” I finished with a stern mom look.
A naked woman sitting on a balcony with glass walls and protesting that she doesn’t want to be seen on the internet nude, in front of a guy with a cellphone that she is about to pose for seemed incongruent – but Roberto swore that he would keep them all private. I believed him. I wondered later if I even cared.
“Did your friends say anything else?” I batted my eyes.
Roberto put the cell phone at his side, looking embarrassed.
“What was it?”
Still he hesitated.
I ran a finger around my right nipple. “Did they want to play with my breasts?”