We paid for the wine and Tristan uncorked it in the car where, naturally, there were a couple of cut crystal flutes sparking in the little bar. It was different and delicious and I happily sipped on my glass as the miles rolled by.
The stop and start of the car when we reached Agde traffic woke me up. I'd fallen asleep with the lull of sparkling wine and a luxury ride. Drool was dribbling out of the side of my mouth and I quickly wiped it away, horrified. I did a quick check of the white leather for more.
Fortunately, Tristan himself was asleep as well only he wasn't drooling. Of course he wasn't drooling. He was lying back against the seat, mouth closed, breathing slowly and silently through his perfect patrician nose. I watched the rise and fall of his chest and resisted the urge to put my hand on it so that I could feel the gentle motion of his muscles. He had on a moss-green silk shirt that flowed over his skin in a way that seemed uncommonly sensual for just a shirt. I had noticed during the day how the color picked up one of the many shades I saw in his forest eyes and, along with the khaki pants he'd chosen for our outing, just seemed to blend him into the landscape as if he had joined a painting.
By some happy coincidence, I had chosen a terra-cotta colored sundress from the assortment in 'my' closet and a pair of sensibly flat, but very pretty sandals that laced at the ankles. The wide straw hat I found on the top shelf of the closet was a perfect accent, its big scarf in shades of the same tawny clay, ochre and olive. We looked like we had purposely coordinated our outfits.
It took me a while to get used to how people turned their heads when Tristan and I walked past. At first, I just figured it was because of his devastating good looks. But, after a while, I noticed that it wasn't just women who were looking at us. Men, women, old, young, singly or together, it seemed that something about us was worthy of a second glance. I understood a little bit more about that reaction as I pondered the lovely picture of us gliding through town in that cloud of a car.
Tristan didn't wake until we pulled up to the dock where King's Risk gently swayed in her berth. Kwan handed the many packages we had accumulated during the day to the steward, Carlos. There was the gift basket for my mother all wrapped in yellow cellophane and adorned with a huge silk bow. I had made a futile effort to rein Tristan in on the shopping, but there was no reasoning with the man. The very truthful argument that Marjorie would be embarrassed by such extravagance met with a snort and "she'll just have to get used to it".
Of course that hurled me right into a fantasy about what he really meant by that statement and effectively shut me up. Maybe he knew that's the effect it would have. It wasn't impossible that Tristan knew exactly how much I invested in any mention he made of the future or any indication that we were a 'couple'. Maybe he knew that forbidden expectations were as good as a guarantee a girl like me would be obsessed with them.
Eight
The sun was just sliding below the buildings to the west. We sat on deck and sipped the last of our bottle of Blanquette de Limoux.
"Would you like to dine in or out tonight?"
"Oh, that's a hard choice. Your chef is awfully good."
"Yes, he is. But to tell you the truth, Kwan, Shane and even Carlos get involved in the kitchen. I have been blessed with a staff of men who love to outdo one another at the stove. Chef Todd's the boss, of course, but he welcomes company."
"Well, we certainly brought back a cornucopia of produce for them. I can't believe the herbs!"
"There's also half a dozen fabulous cheeses from that one place and the veal sausage. Could you be satisfied with an omelet and a salad?"
"That sounds perfect. We seem to do nothing but eat. I'm going to go home as fat as one of those cute little pigs we saw today."
"A few days in France isn't going to fatten you up like a hog."
"Plump is cute on a pig, but pretty undesirable on a woman."
"Trust me, it would take a lot more than a few pounds to render you undesirable."
I smiled and puffed out my cheeks like a blowfish. "How's that?" I asked as they deflated.
"Well, when you do that it only reminds me of how good it feels when you have my cock is poking inside one of those cheeks."
"Ah, speaking of a tasty sausage…" I reached over and cupped him in my hand.
Tristan groaned as I stroked him under his trousers. "Yours to devour, my sweet."
I leaned down and blew through the fabric to heat his flesh. "Are we going for an appetizer?"
His voice rasped a little when he said, "I'm afraid I have a few calls to make. In just a few minutes, in fact."
I gave him an exaggerated little pout.
"Not to worry, I will make sure that dessert is more than satisfying."
"My King, satisfaction is something I know I don't have to worry about with you."
He kissed me sweetly and asked, "So, would you like to visit the 'adult' section of the beach tomorrow?"
"Okaaaayyy, so what goes on in the 'adult section'?"
"Just what you'd imagine. Adult stuff. Mostly it's couples going there to size up other couples. Aside from the straight up naturist part of Cap d'Agde, there's also a large libertine contingent."
"Libertine?"
"That's the French term for swingers. Couples who swap. And other stuff."
Now I was getting a little freaked out. "And is that something you're also interested in?"
Tristan tilted my chin up and focused my eyes on his. "I am not at all interested in sharing you with anyone. I'd accommodate you if you had any desire… any bi-sexual tendencies--"
I cut him off. "I do not have any bi tendencies. If that's what floats your boat, I'm afraid I can't help you."
"That's not what floats my boat. But if that was something you fantasize about, here would be the place to act on it." He kissed me softly on the lips and then on the forehead. "Raina, I want you to have whatever kind of sensual experience you can imagine enjoying. A lot of women like playing with other women, that's all. There's nothing wrong with girls having a little fun," he smiled. "The wise man indulges the woman whose sexuality he treasures. At least to a point."
A sudden insight told me that Elsa was the woman he knew who had a taste for a little female company now and then. The thought that he found it cute to indulge her infuriated me. In fact, the whole trip started to sour. He was no stranger to this place, to naked fun in the sun, to what went on over on the 'adult side' of the beach.
As I sipped the last drops of my wine in rather sullen silence I couldn't get the picture of Elsa, the pretty girl next door, cavorting around the white French sands with Tristan. Tristan helping her hunt a like-minded woman for a romp. Tristan and the prey's male counterpart watching the 'girls play' and having a great old time. It kind of made me sick to my stomach.