"Fantasy Fest is fun," Chloe said.

"What?" asked Maggie.

"It's in Key West, Florida. Thousands of people show up and parade through the streets and party all night. It's illegal to be nude in public, but even a string of beads counts as clothes. Lots of strange people. Homosexuals, bisexuals, straights, old, young, etc. Go with me. You need a break.

"Plus, I have a hotel room," Chloe added. "It's not easy to find one during Fantasy Fest. It'll be expensive but not if we share a room. We can split the costs."

Maggie couldn't help thinking that the invite from Chloe was more about money than friendship. But she needed a rest. She was exhausted after several months of travel and work -- mostly in Afghanistan, post 9/11. "Why not? I'll go," she said.

Chloe and Maggie had been flatmates in New York City for a year, but they were not friends. Chloe had a quick temper and took offense if something was not to her liking. Maggie tolerated that because she was gone from New York more than one-half of the time, owned little more than could be stuffed into a couple of suitcases, and her share of the rent was affordable.

Maggie was forty-four and divorced from her husband, the preacher. Her daughter was employed in Thailand; her son was in graduate school in Kansas. A veteran of work in refugee camps, and now contracted by the United Nations in New York, her job was to visit the sites of humanitarian emergencies around the world and recommend measures to meet the needs of people who had lost their homes and livelihoods. It was an emotional and sometimes dangerous job.

Chloe was thirty-two, blond and pretty, top-heavy in an attractive way, She worked as the manager of a popular restaurant. She had never been married. She was a serial monogamist, meeting a man, falling madly in love and devoting herself to him for a few weeks or months, and then abandoning him and moving on to the next man. Maggie took sex as she found it with friends scattered around the world and occasionally with men she met during her travels.

"You'll want to take your sexiest outfits," said Chloe.

"In that case, I won't need a large suitcase," answered Maggie.

 ****

They arrived in Key West in the late afternoon. Maggie was surprised to see chickens roaming freely up and down the streets and in the tropical gardens. Their hotel was located just off Duval, the main street of the city. Their room had two queen-sized beds.

They dressed for the evening: Chloe in a bikini bottom and a sheer white blouse, open to her waist, displaying impressive cleavage and the brown of her nipples through the cloth. Maggie wore shorts and a flowery, button-down-the-front blouse. Chloe told her not to wear a bra -- and she didn't.

Out on the streets, Maggie discovered that she was overdressed. Amidst hundreds of photo-snapping tourists were women parading in streets and wearing much less, some painted from head to toe, others in tiny bikinis, a few displaying bare breasts and flashing the photographers who lurked around furiously taking pictures. Some of the women were beautiful; many were fat and old. Men wore shorts and went shirtless. One of them had a scarf wrapped about his middle and his semi-hard penis protruded from beneath the scarf. Another had his penis sheathed in a large rubber tube that hung down to his knees. Ages ranged from eighteen to seventy, she guessed.

"Take it off!" shouted a man with a camera. Chloe obliged by pulling aside her blouse to display a large, firm breast, then quickly covered it up again.

"How about you?" asked the photographer, pointing at Maggie.

Maggie had a moment of panic. What if her employer saw her picture with bared breast posted on the internet? It could be bad. Best to be careful. She smiled and kept her shirt on.

They wended their way through the streets toward their destination, a restaurant and bar Chloe knew about from her previous visits to Fantasy Fest. The streets were thronged with people. A parade went by with a jazz band, and on a float, women dressed as pirates, devils, and sirens threw out strings of beads to the crowd. Maggie caught a string of beads and hung it around her neck. Chloe posed for photographs as they walked along.

They ate dinner in a large restaurant with a dance floor, loud music, and a small stage on which women undulated with the music and shed most of the scraps of clothing they had on. They ate dinner at a crowded table, joining a quartet of chubby lesbian women dressed in mini skirts with nothing underneath and with painted breasts. It was noisy. Men dropped by to say hello and ask for dances. In the spirit of the evening, Maggie loosed a button on her blouse to show her meager cleavage -- but she declined to join the other women for photos. An outside patio was crammed with people, dancing, drinking, talking. Maggie had finished dinner when a man handed her a bottle of beer and said, "A dance for a beer."

She accepted the bottle, and the man led her to an open space on the floor. He was about forty, paunchy, shirtless, his hairy chest glistening with sweat, beads hung around his neck, and he wore a pair of tight shorts that showed the outline of his penis and testicles.

Not my dream man, she thought, but... In another part of the restaurant, Chloe was surrounded by men.

This first man proved to be too forward, one hand finding its way to her breast while they danced and the other squeezing her butt cheeks. She thanked him for the beer and moved along, dancing with other men, finally finding one who seemed pleasant. They chatted amiably as they drank beer while sitting in a darkened corner. Maggie's blouse had come unbuttoned nearly to her navel.

Her man, named Charles, was handsome and young and kissed her on the lips -- and she didn't protest -- and his hand slipped inside her blouse to feel her breast. She was looking forward to a pleasant finale to this relationship.

Suddenly, her nice man unzipped his pants and took out his penis and pulled her hand down to his groin. "I want you," he said, "but I can't. I promised my wife. That's her out there in the red body paint." Maggie looked at his wife. She was tall and beautiful and painted in brilliant colors, her firm buttocks bare, and each of her nipples outlined in a golden fan of paint.

Maggie pulled her hand away. "What did you promise your wife?"

He was insistent and pulled her hand back. "We promised that we wouldn't have sex with other people."

Maggie joked, "I thought that was your intention with me."

"No," he said, "but I want you to beat me off, please! I'm really hot for you." He pulled her hand back to his crotch, insistent this time. "Do it!" he commanded.

It was not the first time that Maggie's mild appearance had stimulated a man to exert pressure on her, but sexual demands were a deal-breaker for her. For her, a man didn't need to be handsome or rich, but he had to be nice -- and to accept her as an equal and not just an obedient playmate. She had been a subservient partner to her preacher husband for twenty years.  No more of that.  

Maggie's hopes for a romantic evening were dashed. "I'm sorry. I won't do that." She walked away, leaving him with his hand on his groin. Well, she thought philosophically, it's not the first time a budding romance has gone bad.

Chloe, by this time, had found a man. She introduced him to Maggie and then whispered in Maggie's ear. "I want to spend the night with Brad, but I'm not comfortable going to his house with him. You won't mind, will you if I take Brad back to our room with me? How are you doing?"

"Not so well. I'm ready to go home. I'm tired and need to sleep." Chloe's man Brad was young and more than attractive, with a surfer's blond hair and tanned skin. "I don't mind. Take Brad back to our room."

They walked together arm in arm back to the hotel. The streets were only a little less crowded than they had been hours earlier. They were all more than a little drunk. Maggie liked Brad. He lived in Key West and worked as a cook in a restaurant. He was amusing and personable. She wished she were with him.

When they got to the room, Maggie said, "I'm going to pee and go to bed."

When Maggie came out of the bathroom. Chloe and Brad were sitting on a bed, kissing, he caressing her bare breasts, her hand between his legs. Maggie turned her back to them, took her blouse off and hung it in the closet, then took her shorts off, folded them, and put them on a shelf in the closet. She pulled her panties off and threw them on the floor of the closet.

"Oh, I see a naked female," laughed Brad. "Lovely tits."

"No, don't look," said Chloe. Chloe was possessive and jealous. Maggie enjoyed Brad's attention, but covered herself with her arms and hands as she slipped beneath the covers of her bed, and turned the lamp off on the table beside her bed.

"Let's shower," Chloe said, grabbing Brad by the hand and leading him toward the bathroom, shedding her blouse and bikini bottom, and then turning and unbuckling his belt, and pulling his pants and underpants down to his feet and out of them.

Maggie felt lonely. Her first night at Fantasy Fest had turned out poorly. She had wanted to find a pleasant and easy-going romance. Tomorrow, she said to herself, I'll do better. Maybe Brad has a friend? But he's so young!

Chloe and Brad came out of the shower and cavorted naked across the room toward the bed, an arm's length from Maggie. Chloe leaned over and kissed Maggie on the cheek. "We'll try to be quiet, Maggie. But you know I am noisy."

"Don't worry about me," she said. "I'm almost asleep."

Chloe wrestled Brad down on the bed, hovered over him, felt his hard penis in her hand and then lowered her head and began to suck him. Brad moaned softly, turned his head to Maggie and said, "Should I turn this lamp off?" He pointed to the lamp illuminating their bed.

"No, I'm not bothered by the light." Maggie turned away to face the opposite wall.

"Sweet dreams, said Brad.

"Pay attention to me, not to her," warned Chloe.

Brad grabbed a laughing Chloe around the waist and wrestled her down onto her back in the bed. "I'm going to fuck you to death."

"Big talk," Chloe answered.

"Big dick is going inside you. Right now."

"Good night," said Maggie. She went to sleep to the sound of their sex.

 ***

Maggie woke up with Brad crawling in bed with her. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was 5:50 a.m. "What are you doing?" she asked in a whisper.

"Getting in bed with you," said Brad, pulling the sheet over himself as he lay down beside Maggie. His hand found her bare breast.

She brushed it away. "We can't do this," she said. "You're with Chloe."

His hardened penis poked her in the thigh. He whispered, "We'll be very quiet. She's drunk and out cold." Chloe was snoring.

Maggie contemplated the offer for a long moment. Brad's hand found its way to her vagina, his finger wiggling its way inside. She quivered -- but she pushed him away. "No, I can't. It wouldn't be right. We can't." And then, after a pause, "Not now. Later? Maybe."

"What's going on over there?" came the voice of Chloe. She sat up suddenly, "Brad, you son of a bitch! You're trying to fuck Maggie. You bastard!" She leaped out of bed, naked, grabbed Brad by the arm and pulled him out of Maggie's bed. "Get out of here. Now!" She pointed toward the door.

Brad quickly gathered up his clothes and half put them on as an enraged Chloe continued to berate him. "I'm sorry, Maggie," Chloe said after she pushed him out the door.

Maggie attempted to soothe the angry Chloe. "It's okay. Nothing happened."

"No, I'm sorry -- because it isn't okay. You were going to fuck my man. My man! I heard you."

"I was just trying to get him out of my bed."

Chloe would hear none of it. She was in a jealous rage. "No, I can't tolerate that. You must leave. Now."

"But..."

"Now! I can't have a traitor in this room with me." Chloe grabbed Maggie's suitcase and threw it on the bed. "Out!" Maggie was furious, but she hadn't yet paid Chloe for her share of the hotel room and, in her accounting brain, the room belonged to Chloe. She got out of bed, put on shorts and blouse quickly, opened her suitcase, packed her things, and left without a word, slamming the door behind her.

Where to go? she asked herself. It was a lovely sunrise, which she enjoyed as she pulled her suitcase down the sidewalk, contemplating her options. A chicken ran away from her, crowing loudly.

"Going somewhere?" It was Brad. He was sitting on a park bench outside the gate of the Hemingway Home, one of Key West's tourist attractions. He motioned her to sit down beside him. "You got thrown out also?"

She sat down. "Yeah." She looked at him and then thought about herself. "Oh, my God. I must look a fright." She ran her fingers through her hair hanging in strands over her face.

"I'm sorry that I caused a problem. That girlfriend of yours is scary. She's a banshee."

"Chloe is not a girlfriend. Not anymore."

"What are you going to do?"

"I guess I'll go to the airport and look for a flight home. But I can't go like this. I've got to put something decent on. And comb my hair and fix my face."

"I live in a house with two other guys. They won't be happy to be awakened at this hour, but so what? You can fix yourself up. And stay awhile, if you wish." He kissed her on the cheek. "No obligation. Seriously."

"Sounds like my best option. My only option."

"Let's go then. It's a short walk. Just remember one thing."

"What?"

"Revenge is the best medicine."

She paused and looked at him. He was handsome, much younger than her. "Maybe so. How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"Oh, my God."

***

It was a very small house with two very small bedrooms, and they were both occupied by couples. Brad shook the bed covers off one sleeping couple. "Get up, you slugs. I have a lady here who needs the bathroom."

The girl sat up, covering her breasts with a sheet. She looked sleepily at Maggie. "You look like my mother," she said. Then she covered her mouth and giggled, "Oh, I didn't mean it that way." They shook hands. "I'm Kate."

"No offense. I am old enough to be your mother."

"And with her maturity comes wisdom. She could teach you a lot," Brad said with a smile at Kate.

"Maybe she can teach you to last longer than three strokes."

"Don't listen to her," Brad said to Maggie. "I think I need a shower. After Chloe, I feel dirty. You want to shower?"

"Yes."

"Well, there's no chance I can go back to sleep," came the voice of Kate on the bed. "We're leaving. Come on, Jake." She pulled the man beside her up and the two of them, stumbling and groggy, grabbed their clothes as they left the room.

"It's an informal household," Brad said.

"I noticed," Maggie answered.

Maggie showered, wrapped a towel around herself, then sat at a dressing table in front of a mirror and combed her hair while Brad showered. He came out of the bathroom, also with a towel around himself, and stood behind her, putting his hand on her shoulders.

"I have a car. I can take you to the airport. Or we can do something else." His hands massaged her bare shoulders. "I was wishing last night that I was in bed with you, not Chloe."

She giggled. "Liar."

"Cross my heart and hope to die. I loved that quick look I had of those little tits. And those legs! Perfection!" His hand touched the towel covering her, and it fell away from her breasts. She made an attempt to pull the towel up. His hands stroked her breasts and she leaned back from her chair, her head rubbing against his crotch, feeling the shape of his penis.

"You're full of it."

"And then there's revenge. Don't forget that."

"I haven't. But that bed is disgusting."

"I'll change the sheets."

The voice of Kate came in from the other room. "Breakfast, you two?"

"Breakfast?" asked Brad. "Or...?

"Or," Maggie answered decisively.  "But first I'm going to change the sheets."

"I like your decision. Clean sheets are in the closet," Brad said. He shouted, "Breakfast later, Kate."

She stood up and her towel fell away, as did his, and they kissed, their bodies pressing hard against each other. "Let's also change the pillowcases," she said.

***

They lay on the clean linen side by side, he with one hand on her buttocks, the other caressing her long, brown hair, his penis into her thigh, her breasts thrust forward against his chest, their lips locked

"My name is Maggie, by the way," she said, coming up for air.

"I knew that. Nice to meet you. May I kiss that hairless pussy of yours? Did you shave specially for Fantasy Fest?"

"Yes." His head slipped downwards to between her legs. She gasped when his tongue touched her clitoris. "Take your time. I don't want this to go quickly -- and I've heard you're a three-stroker."

"An evil rumor." He thrust his tongue into her vagina. "And even if true, I recover quickly. I want to make you cum with my mouth," he added. "Are you into multiple orgasms?"

"I can do multiple, yes." He was sucking her vagina and she rocked her hips back and forth, matching the rhythm of his bobbing head. She spread her legs as wide as she could. "I'm going to come."

"Jesus, and they call me a three-stroker!"

"I also have a rapid recovery rate." She was thrusting hard now, and his hands were pulling her upward, elevating her hips, his tongue seeking out her vagina, his open mouth sucking her clitoris hard.

"Fireworks," she said, arching her back, the shudders going down her spine, her clawed hands clutching his shoulder, his curly blond hair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she shouted.

As she lay back, breathing hard and sweating, Kate shouted from the other room, "I heard you and I don't think you're ready for breakfast yet!"

Maggie laughed. Brad slithered upward from her vagina and kissed her on the cheek. "What did you think?"

"I think you're the man I wanted to meet at Fantasy Fest."

"We have just begun, my fair lady. Do me a favor, huh?"

"What?"

"Put your glasses on. I want to fuck you with your glasses on."

"You're a pervert." Nevertheless, she retrieved her glasses from the dressing table, put them on, and lay down again beside him. She laughed.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I was just thinking that I can't believe that I am here with a man less than half my age. You're a boy."

"A fucking boy. And you're beautiful and erotic in those glasses."

"Speaking of fucking..." 

"Your wish is my desire. May I pretend you're blind and guide you to my tender parts?" 

"I am nearly blind," she said with quickened breath as he rolled over on top of her and guided his penis inside her. She spread and raised her legs to accommodate his entry.

"Too bad I don't have a blindfold. That would really be fun. The glasses will have to do."

"Shut up and fuck me." He plunged deep within her. "Oh, shit! I forgot," she exclaimed. "Get off me! I can't fuck you without a condom."

"I don't have one."

"Men never do. I have one. In my suitcase." She got out of bed and walked to her suitcase, opened it, and rummaged around. "They're not here. Somebody took my condoms. Chloe! That bitch."

"I can borrow one."

"I'll do you with my mouth. Will that be okay?

"After I have already discovered your inner secrets? Yeah, blow me. Blow me two times, baby. That's a Doors song."

"So is 'Back Door Man' but you're not going to do that to me."

"Let it be, then. Just blow me."

"I'd like to come again also."

"Sixty-nine ways to please your lover. Paul Simon sang that one. And, hey, you're Mrs. Robinson. And I'm what's-his-name? Destitute Hoffman."

Maggie groaned in mock agony. She lay down again and rolled on top of him, facing his feet, finding his penis, and putting it in her mouth. He positioned himself beneath her vagina, extending his tongue, and lapping at the wetness she exuded.

"Oh, God, you're dripping nectar on me," he said.

"Too much?"

"No, drowning will be such sweet sorrow with your pussy in my mouth."

"Somebody famous said that." She took his penis deep into her throat, breathing hard, choking, releasing him. "As soon as I get my breath, I'm going to come."

"Again?" he said. "This is unfair. I'm still working on once. God, you are hot!"

"I've had lots of practice."

"Do you have a husband?"

"I did. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"We have sort of a communal thing going on here." He locked his mouth on her clitoris and she shuddered, then took him into her mouth again.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready." They climaxed together, her legs closing around his head and beating a frantic tattoo on the bed, his hips arching up to drive his penis deep into her throat.

"Aaaahg," she gagged as she felt the hot, salty sperm in her throat. She pulled his penis out of her mouth, choked and spit out sperm onto his face. "I'm sorry," she said. "I couldn't get that down. And, oh, it's on my glasses. I can't see." She took her glasses off and wiped them off on the bedsheets.

"I forgive you. But look at my ears. Are they bleeding? You nearly tore them off. It feels like the Incredible Hulk had a headlock on me. You are one kick-ass lady! Will you marry me?"

"I think adoption would be more appropriate," she said dryly.

They collapsed side by side on the bed. "Oh, wow," he said, "The earth moved. The fucking stars fell on Fantasy Fest. The tide came in with a rush. And my ears still hurt."

"It was good for me too." She sat up in bed and thought for a moment. "We haven't quite done the full monty yet, have we? Can you do it again? Borrow a condom and fuck me? It's important."

"It's about time you asked. I thought maybe you were preserving your virginity."

"I have a twenty-four-year-old daughter."

Brad shouted out to the other room. "Hey, Kate, loan me a rubber? Kate," he explained, "is always prepared."

Kate opened the door and tossed two condoms onto the bed. "Will that be sufficient? Let me know when you want me to fry the omelet."

"A man's work is never done," said Brad as she slipped the condom onto his penis. "Put your glasses on."

"I'll need to go to the airport after this," she said, putting her glasses on as he inserted his penis into her.

****

When she got home later that day, Maggie went to the apartment she shared with Chloe, gathered her things, and called a male friend to help her move. She would stay with him until she could find another apartment. She left Chloe a note in an envelope.

Chloe, Enclosed is one hundred dollars for my share of the utilities. Goodbye.

P.S. I fucked Brad.

Revenge!