Voulez Vous Mois Vicky? – Part 1

I’d been counting down the days to this vacation for several months now. Work was stressful and I really needed a break. I had a booked a large villa in France, on the outskirts of a sleepy little village near the sandy beaches of Bay of Biscay. It was my wife and I, her friend Vicky, along with her husband Clive and kids and a couple of mutual friends, Jill and Sasha. 8 of us in total for a sunny summer week. I wasn’t that keen on the two little kids coming but I guess they came as a set. In the end they were actually fine – happy if they were on the beach, in the pool or eating ice cream, which amounted to most of their waking hours. Aside from being unable to finish a conversation with one or other of their parents without interruption, and the early morning yells for their mum, I didn’t really notice them.

The children were an acceptable compromise for having Vicky around. I liked Vicky a lot. She was smart and funny. I enjoyed chatting with her (even between interruptions). I always felt a connection with her that I didn’t feel with my wife’s other girl friends. The odd knowing look, or sideways glance at things we found mutually funny. A subtle smile seemingly shared only between us. Maybe I was overstating it, but it seemed like there was a spark between us. Oh, and she was hot.

From the moment I was first introduced to her when my wife and I were dating, I thought Vicky was attractive: petite, shoulder length natural blonde hair and a pale complexion, with big brown eyes and a cute smile. I guess in those days I was too captivated with my wife to be distracted by other women, but over the years, I guess I’d developed a bit of a crush on Vicky. And while I’d noticed she had a nice butt whenever she wore denim, this week was the first time I’d ever seen her in anything more revealing.

Vicky had packed a blue-green one-piece bathing suit for her holiday. Modest? Yes. But to some degree that made her all the more alluring: my mind having to fill in the blanks. The first day in the villa I had been lounging on the deck chair and Vicky had walked past. She was accosted by one of her kids and forced to bend over right before my eyes. Her backless bathing suit had ridden up a little, revealing her smooth, toned, ivory glutes. I had to put the book I was reading over my crotch for a few minutes!

It was now day three of the holiday and I was pretty relaxed. As per the previous three days, we had made the five minute drive down to the beach after breakfast. However, unlike the previous days, this time Vicky had stayed behind at the villa, leaving Clive in charge of the kids (or potentially the other way around). This was the first time I had seen him having to take responsibility for his offspring. Generally it was Vicky left chasing around after them, but for whatever reason, today it seemed she had been given a well deserved morning to herself. In reality there were plenty of babysitters on hand so that he wouldn’t have to concern himself too much – not that he ever seemed to anyway.

I managed a few hours on the sand, then lunch at a beach side restaurant, but by early afternoon I had my fill of the kids and the increasing afternoon heat. I decided to walk back to the villa on my own. I figured it would only take about 20 minutes and the tree-lined road back would provide welcome shade from the blazing sun. In reality it was more like 35 minutes before I was walking up the short gravel drive to the villa.

“Hello” I announced as I opened the front door, trying not to surprise Vicky.

No answer came. I peered out of the rear patio door to the garden and pool area at the far end, but couldn’t see any sign of her. I assumed she was in her room, perhaps taking a siesta. I decided this was no bad idea, so grabbed a cold drink from the kitchen and made my way down the cool hallway to my bedroom.

It was dark inside, the curtains remained closed to keep the morning sun out and the temperature lower. However, the sun was now on the other side of the property so I opened them up along with the french door to the garden in order to let some air in. Then lay down on the bed. Just as I was about to sip my drink, looking out the open doorway, I saw a hand appear from behing the back of a sun lounger.

Vicky placed a book on the ground and stood up, looking in my direction. I raised a hand to wave and smiled at her, but there was no acknowledgement. I realised quickly that the unlit room was in shadow and the sun was shining back over the roof towards her, so it was probably impossible to see inside from Vicky’s vantage point on the pool deck. I was about to call out to her when Vicky reached across her chest and slipped one of the straps of her bathing suit off her shoulder lifting her arm out of it, followed by the opposite side. I assumed she was about to apply some sunscreen and figured I’d hold off announcing my presence just yet. I was hopeful she’d have to pull the front down entirely to apply lotion to the little cleavage Vicky had exposed.

But I couldn’t have predicted what she did next.