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Missing the Signs

By: krr1957



This story deals with themes of coercion and reluctance against a background of female domination. If you think you might be offended please try a different story. 

Missing the Signs 

Chapter 1 

It was Friday night and the bar was buzzing. The last deal of the day had yielded ten grand straight profit and life was sweet. 

The only downer was the fact that there was just the three of us. Eighteen months earlier we had been 'the gang of twelve' but the trading floor slowly took its toll. One or two had moved on, some had moved upwards, at thirty-three I was almost an old stager. 

Of course, a few had settled down into steady relationships, two had married, and now they had different priorities. 

I had always told myself that all that could wait until I reached my mid thirties but I did have regrets about Juliette. 

She was everything I wanted in a woman; an outrageously good looking blonde with a Cambridge degree, destined for the top. She also enjoyed my love of sports and that extended to her athleticism in the bedroom. 

We had been together for almost six months when I took fright. She asked me to move in with her and suddenly everything seemed so grown up. I left her in bed that morning and by the same evening I was getting drunk with the boys and boasting about how I had dumped her. 

I ran into her a few days later at an inter-departmental meeting. Apart from the formal courtesies she did not say a single word to me and when I caught her eye her cold stare made me feel like a total shit. 

I desperately wanted to ask her to take me back but the truth was that I was too much of a coward to face up to her and was frightened of having my ego bruised if she refused. 

I downed my beer, thought 'to hell with it', and cast my eye around the bar. It was all the usual city types but in one corner there was a group of younger people who looked like students. I would have thought that this particular bar would be a little too pricey for them but they seemed to be at ease and enjoying themselves. 

There was one girl in the group that stood out. Normally, she would have slipped beneath my radar, in her case quite literally. I stand six foot three in my stockinged feet and she could not have been much over five foot one or two. 

She looked incredibly young but the bar had a strict door policy so she must have been at least eighteen. She had a lovely face and was wearing very minimal makeup. Her blue eyes looked large and innocent and she was flashing a delightful one hundred watt smile. 

She had a slim build but, from what I could see, she was nicely proportioned. She was wearing tight jeans but what really caught my eye was her scooped neck tee shirt. 

She had fabulous breasts; not large, but deliciously firm and unfettered and her nipples were straining the thin blue cotton. 

There were other girls in the bar, much more my usual type, and I had already picked up one or two positive signals, but my eyes kept on flitting back to the group in the corner. 

Mindful of the ribbing I would get from my friends, if they suspected me of ogling someone quite so young, I turned my back on the group and rejoined the general hilarity. 

"Do you like them?" 

I turned as someone nudged my back. She was behind me at the bar, not looking at me but attracting the attention of the barman by waving a couple of banknotes. This, of itself, was unusual as most of the crowd would be running a tab and charging it to their cards. 

"Sorry, were you speaking to me?" 

"Yes I was. I asked if you liked them. You've been staring at my tits all evening." 

I was flummoxed. In the normal course of events I would have played jack the lad and offered to pay for a better look but there was something disarming about her. I found myself complementing her and blustering an apology. 

"You can buy me dinner." 

"You mean now?" 

"Not now dimbo, I'm with my friends. You look as though you flash the cash, you can take me somewhere swanky. Let me have your business card and I'll give you a call." 

And that was it. Unusually for me I respected her privacy and averted my gaze for the rest of the evening but, over the next few days, I felt peculiarly on edge. 

I even turned down an invitation for drinks with Mandy which, in reality, meant an invitation for some boisterous casual sex. 

By the following Saturday I had gone without sex for eight days, which counts as a serious dry spell in my book, 

I was showering, getting ready for a serious session at the local rugby club bar and determined to get myself back on track, when she called. 

"It's me Zoe." 

"I'm sorry..?" 

"Zoe, the girl with the tits." 

For reasons I could not explain to myself I immediately felt flustered. 

"I'm at a loose end tonight. Do you want to buy me that dinner?" 

Less than sixty seconds later I put the phone down not quite believing that it had happened. She had asked me to surprise her and so I suggested 'Taipan' the new Asian fusion restaurant. In the event I had to call in a very serious favour to get a table there on a crowed Saturday night. 

I arrived on time but she was nearly twenty minutes late and a sizable bribe was needed to keep the table open. I was at the bar when there was a sudden subtle change in the background murmur. She was at the door searching and smiled when her eyes lighted on me. 

She was wearing a black cocktail dress which was more 'haute rue' than haute couture but she made it look stunning. It displayed her breasts to great advantage but it was also cut well above the knee allowing me to appreciate just how nice her legs were. She still looked youthful but now she retained an air of refinement. 

Over dinner she told me more about herself and our worlds could not have been more different. She was the black sheep of the family and had been thrown out by her parents. She was now living with a friend and filling in with odd jobs whilst she decided what she wanted to do for the long term. 

She asked me a lot about my job and then ribbed me by suggesting that I was very much an establishment figure. I was tempted to counter by telling her about my excesses but it did not seem right somehow. It was like talking to a younger sister and I think one or two of the other diners had drawn that conclusion about us. 

After the meal she suggested a club and I was strongly tempted to refuse. My hormones were raging and the temptation to take her back to my place was incredible but, rarely for me, my conscience got the upper hand. 

I could not disappoint her but, once we were finished at the club, I decided that I would end to our fledgling relationship. 

The club itself came as a surprise. It was a bar with a Latin house band and a modest dance floor on which a few couples were putting together some frighteningly professional moves. 

When Zoe dragged me out to dance I tried to refuse. I do not like dancing at the best of times and with my body builders physique Latin was most certainly not my thing.  

She teased me coquettishly, calling me a spoilsport, and I surrendered for just one dance. 

I have no idea what it was but it did not really matter. As I shambled around Zoe danced mercurially. I could not take my eyes off of her as she slinked her body using her breasts and her pert backside to devastating effect. By the time she closed with me for some more intimate moves I had a raging erection which I had no way of hiding. 

She teased me mercilessly turning her back and spooning up against me laughing the whole time. At the end of the first dance I was perspiring but she insisted on remaining on the floor. 

We, or I should perhaps say she, danced for the better part of hour in which time my erection refused to wilt. In the end I insisted on returning to the bar to avert the imminent danger of coming in my pants. 

The urge to get her into bed was greater than ever but, through it all, she was still possessed of a spirit of innocence. I ordered a cab and dropped her off at her modest flat set above a shop before returning home and the lonely pleasures of my own right hand. 

I determined to put the whole thing down to experience and get on with my life but, over the next day or two, I found myself distracted and she was constantly in my thoughts. Rather bizarrely, whilst I knew where she lived, I did not know her telephone number. 

The bank was laying on a black tie event at the local race course and, for a fleeting moment, I was tempted to invite her if only to show her how the other half lived. Common sense, or perhaps cowardice, prevailed and I thumbed through my address book to find an escort more appropriate to the occasion. 

I was actually dressed, ready to go, when she phoned. She had two tickets for a fringe theatre production and asked if I was interested. I do not know why I did it but I feigned a headache and cried off of the black tie even knowing that it would count against me. 

I changed into chinos and a rugger shirt and made my way out to the suburbs. 

The 'theatre' was a room over a pub and the production was an English translation of a Hungarian play about the Countess Bathory. I was contemplating being bored rigid, and thought I had made a dreadful mistake, but Zoe was as exuberant as ever. 

As it turned out the performance verged on the pornographic. The story of 'The Blood Countess' set the scene for a lot of gratuitous nudity and the sexual sadism was almost too well enacted. I felt sure that this was not what Zoe envisaged, and I felt embarrassed for her, but I was having problems of my own again using my cheap programme to cover my burgeoning erection. 

For the second 'date' in a row I dropped her home and then took my own pleasure. 

This time I did take her phone number but it just made things worse than ever. I knew that I should simply walk away but the temptation to phone was almost overwhelming. For the first time in my life I found myself masturbating over a real person rather than some anonymous porn but it simply made me feel sordid. 

After a few days I caved it but it seemed that she had a very lively schedule and she could not meet up until almost a week later. I wanted to talk and suggested a pub. She gave me the name of a place a little further out than I would normally go but I went along with it. 

For a Wednesday the pub was pretty crowded and it was only after we had been sitting for a while that I realized why. Just as I was about to broach the subject of where our relationship was going music started up and spotlights illuminated a hitherto shadowed podium. 

I saw the girl before I noticed the pole but within seconds she was writhing around it and playing to her audience. I turned to Zoe ask her if she wanted to leave but she shushed me and directed my attention to the stage. 

The girl was not bad looking, a pneumatically enhanced blonde who went through the motions of pouting and enticement without appearing totally bored. When it was over I hoped for a break but then I realized that this was, in fact, amateur night. 

Another woman went up on stage. She was obviously older but had a nice body shown off to good effect by a micro mini dress. I would not have looked twice at her on the street but she moved well and knowing that some of the flashes of flesh were unintentional gave added titillation. 

I joined in the applause but then almost had a heart failure. Before I could stop her Zoe had bounded up and taken the stage. The pounding rhythm of am Afro-Celtic fusion started up and she began her routine. 

She was dressed much as I had seen her on that first night. Another form fitting tee shirt with three quarter length jeans over knee boots but for the effect she had on me she might as well have been naked. 

I have seen any number of pole dancers over the years but none as sexy as Zoe that night. She moved with a feline grace, her body as one with the music. She had her audience stunned and then baying in appreciation but her eyes never left me. 

She seemed to be offering herself up to me piece by piece and my erection ached. I knew that, that night, I had to have her but when she returned to the table she disarmed me with her smile. 

I dutifully took her home but over the next few days my work began to suffer. I cocked up a deal when I was thinking in sterling instead of euro and I missed an end of day slam dunk on which all my colleagues cleaned up. 

I decided that the only way to get her off my mind was to overcome my scruples and fuck her. For the next three days I tried phoning but kept on getting her voice message. 

She did not return my calls and so at the weekend I broke the habit of a lifetime and set off to simply drop in on her. 

As I pulled up outside her flat she was just leaving with another woman. I now felt awkward and was on the point of driving away when she spotted me. She came over to the curb with her companion in tow and gave me a smile but I sensed a slightest hint of irritation. 

The other woman was introduced as Katie, a friend of Zoe's sister, who had agreed to rent a room to Zoe when she was kicked out from home. She was a very attractive brunette and I guessed she was probably in her mid-twenties. 

Zoe explained that it was Katie's birthday but she had broken up with her boyfriend. They were going to the local pasta restaurant to both celebrate and commiserate. Zoe said that now that I had shown up I could treat them both. 

The restaurant was part of a chain, the sort of place I had not frequented for years, but the food was surprisingly good and I managed to pick out a tolerable wine from the list. 

By the end of the meal we had almost seen off three bottles and I was growing more enamoured of Katie. She was smart, had a great sense of humour, and was wearing a clingy dress which emphasised a very desirable body. She was the sort of woman I would go for but she paled by comparison with Zoe. 

It was her friend's day and she duly deferred to her but her very presence lifted me. When they invited me back for coffee I readily accepted and we stopped off along the way so that I could buy a bottle of champagne. 

The apartment was Ikea chic but nicely done; lots of bleached wood softened with pale blue fabrics. A pair of cheap, but functional, sofas faced one another across a slab of a coffee table and I felt a tingle when Zoe sat down next to me leaving Katie sitting opposite. 

I opened and served the champagne but it was obvious that Katie was slowly getting merry. Her dress had ridden up a little showing off her legs to an immodest degree and as she leant forward to reach for her glass her breasts threatened to spill. 

She seemed to be making light of her split from her boyfriend and I casually asked why it had happened on her birthday. 

This engendered much hilarity between the two girls and then, still giggling, Katie told me. 

"I went out with him for six months and in that whole time he never went down on me once. I told him that I didn't want a birthday present from him but he was going to spend the whole night making me feel good or he was out." 

I was taken aback by her forthrightness but I was even more shocked when Zoe replied. 

"I bet I know someone who would be really good at it." 

She was gazing at me as she said it and, rarely for me, I was lost for words. In truth, I had some sympathy for the guy. I do not like doing it but I will go through the motions if a girl is particularly attractive. 

Zoe sidled up to me and whispered in my ear. 

"I'm flat broke this month and I feel really bad about not buying Katie a present. You can be my present to her. You would do that for me wouldn't you?" 

The whole situation was bizarre. It was the last thing I wanted to do but the look on Zoe's face made it clear that she saw it all as just a bit of fun and, if I refused, she was going to think me a prude. 

She put her hand gently on my shoulder. 

"Off you go." 

Katie obviously got wind of what was going on because she gave a whoop and flung her legs open. 

"Oh yes! Come to mama." 

I was almost in a daze as I knelt before her, even now expecting them to call me back from the brink and laugh it off. 

At first I thought her panties were navy blue, an odd choice with her light coloured dress, but, as I drew nearer, I saw that they had started the evening much paler but they were now soaked through. 

I found this both off-putting and odd. She had obviously been turned on for quite some time, almost as if she had be anticipating this, but our acquaintanceship was barely hours old and she and Zoe had only been alone together for the few minutes it had taken me to use the toilet in the restaurant. 

I wondered if there might be an even more unedifying reason for her sopping underwear but the smell of her arousal was thick in the air. 

"Take them off for me lover." 

She raised herself just enough for me to squeamishly take hold of the damp material and ease it down her legs. 

Most women in my recent experience were either totally depilated or maintained just a token growth but Katie retained the sort of unruly thatch that I only associated with ardent feminists. 

I was about to call a halt to proceedings when Zoe leaned in to whisper once more. 

"Show me what you can do…" 

If I have a weakness it is my inability to turn down a challenge. I told myself that I would give it a minute or two just to show what a good sport I was and, at the same time demonstrate to Zoe that I was the unselfish lover that all women dream of. 

I overcame the temptation to close my eyes. Her labia were a livid pink and I guessed that the lush growth may have been a partial attempt to disguise them. 

"I bet you've done this with hundreds of women…" 

Katie's casual remark rankled but I was not about to disabuse her. 

I set myself between her open legs, conscious of the heat radiating from her thighs, and put my tongue to the sodden nest. 

My immediate impression was of a cold wetness but I got past it and ran the flat of my tongue along the length of sex. I could distinctly feel the fleshly corrugations but there was an immediate yielding and I encountered a wet inner smoothness. 

The sharp tang, supporting my surmise that her arousal was not recent, made me wince but I pushed my tongue deeper to find a warmer, fresher, taste. 

"Oh fuck, I love a man with a long tongue." 

Katie sprawled even more lewdly on the sofa as I worked my tongue inside but my face was being distastefully irritated by her moist curls. 

I knew I could not keep it up for very much longer and so I delved one final time. 

"MMMmmm! Just there!" 

As she cried out she scissored her legs around my head and crossed her ankles. I had been breathing as shallowly as I could and now I was caught completely by surprise. I had no time to draw breath as I was squeezed into her sex. 

She displayed surprising strength but the crushing of my head was the least of my worries as I found myself fighting for oxygen but, instead, inhaling moisture. 

Even now something deep inside would not allow me to show weakness and so I eased my tongue a little and licked more gently to try and make her relax. 

After a few seconds it had the desired effect, as she calmed down enough to let me breathe, but she made no move to unfurl her legs. 

Now I could not stop without forcing the issue and so I reluctantly kept my tongue at work. 

Minutes passed and I had begun to perspire. My shirt felt clammy and my face was wet with a mix of my sweat and her outpouring. Her thighs sealed me in and muted any sound but I was vaguely aware that they were talking, punctuated now and again with peals of laughter. 

This added to my increasing anger as it suggested that she had settled down and that I was doing little more than keeping her at a simmer. 


Missing the Signs



I determined to make myself felt and I began a deeper exploration once more. In my constricted world her sex seemed cavernous and I was keenly aware of every flex of her muscles as I sought signs that I had achieved success. 

I hated what I was doing but, ironically, my body had produced a Pavlovian response. I had a raging erection and the urge to throw her down and show her who was really in charge was hard to fight. 

Fortunately, she finally began to melt. I felt her clutching my tongue more needily and her whole body tensed. 

I tried to work with her but she had reached the point where her muscles were no longer hers to control. Once again her thighs exerted a vice-like grip and then a muffled scream announced the onset of her climax. 

Over the next minute of two she rode it out, threatening my neck in the process, but then with a sudden relaxation it was over. 

She eased her legs from my shoulders and I was able to breathe normally again. 

"How was it?" 

Katie panted her reply to Zoe's question. 

"Bloody good, but then after the drought that I've been through anything would be good." 

I thought that she was an ungrateful bitch but the important thing was Zoe should be impressed. As I cleaned my face as best I could with my handkerchief Katie still sat unashamedly with her legs apart casually running her fingers over her sex. 

"You know, what's really nice, is when a man knows where to find your clitoris. " 

I was surprised to hear Zoe respond excitedly to Katie's statement. 

"Oh yes! My idea of heaven! An unselfish man with a skilful tongue…" 

She fell to her knees behind me and put her hands on shoulders. 

"…I bet you're the very best. Show me!" 

I thought, for a fleeting second, that she was inviting me to go down on her but, instead, she was applying a gentle but insistent pressure urging me back between Katie's legs. 

Katie, as though in anticipation, used her fingers to ease herself open. The moist pink interior contrasted starkly with dark matted mess of her pubis and I simply wanted to turn away but I had come too far to ruin it all now. 

Her clitoris was plump and stood revealed between her open fingers. With a renewed effort of will I bent to it and applied my tongue. 

Ironically, I was not the expert they took me for. Usually, I wanted to get it over and done with as quickly as possible so that I could proceed to the main event. I certainly did not spend unnecessary time trying to make women come just by using my mouth. 

The bud felt firm. I hoped that this was a sign that she had not fully recovered from her previous climax and that it would not take much of an effort to get her to the peak once more. 

I moved the tip of my tongue in a tight circle and this seemed to her liking. 

"Yes…that's sweet." 

I continued in the same vein for the next few minutes but with no obvious signs of progress save that her scent was growing appreciably stronger. It was as if she was making no attempt to further her own arousal and was simply waiting for me to do all the work. 

My annoyance translated into a less controlled, rougher, treatment but, perversely this began to have the desired effect. 

Her body shivered and she gave an appreciative moan. Shortly afterwards I could hear the nails of her free hand clawing at the sofa and she started to come. 

At that point I expected her to give free rein but, oddly, she showed remarkable self-control and let it flow over her with a measure of calm. The reason became obvious when Zoe spoke. 

"Did he make you come?" 

"Not yet…it might take a little while." 

It was outright lie! My instinct was to get up and challenge her but I did not want to get into an argument and have Zoe thinking that I was ignorant of a woman's needs. It was bitter gall but I stayed on my knees and kept licking. 

It took an age. 

She was so relaxed that, at one point, I feared that she might have fallen asleep. I regard myself as fitter than average but my knees, back and neck were all voicing their complaints. 

At one point I tried to speed things along by slipping my tongue inside her but she told me to "be a good boy" and do as she wanted. With barely concealed anger I set my weary tongue back to work in a tiring rhythmic circle. 

From time to time she sipped champagne and I would have given anything to freshen my own mouth. 

I reached a point at which I decided that enough was enough but she seemed to read my thoughts. She put her hand to the back of my head to hold me in place and, at last, she seemed to be getting close. 

She was hotter, her inner thighs slicked with perspiration, and her breathing was less controlled. 

"That's it babe…here it comes…" 

She began to work her hips, pressing her sex to my face, and then, suddenly, she was still. We were frozen together for a heartbeat and then she cried out. 

A gout of moisture hit my face, followed by more, as her orgasm pulsed through her. I wanted to pull away but her fingers gripped my hair insistently. It was as if her earlier orgasm was simply a training exercise leading to the reality of this gushing finale. 

When she finally let me go my already damp handkerchief was insufficient to clean my face. 

I got to my feet with my shirt stuck to my back and my hair in disarray. I looked for my champagne glass but could not see it and then Zoe was at my side. 

"That was really sweet of you but you've got to go now. I've got an early start in the morning." 

I was so bemused that I did not even argue as she ushered me to the door. At the threshold I was rewarded as she rose on tiptoes and kissed me full on the lips. It 

was only as the door closed behind me that it occurred to me that my mouth was still thick with the taste of Katie. 

Chapter 2 

 She called me a "fuddy duddy". 

I was back in the same cycle of calling her up and her not returning my calls. Finally, late one evening, she rang. 

I had been trying to make some sense of the episode with Katie and could not shake the impression that I had, somehow, been manipulated. For someone such as me, always in control both personally and professionally, it was a little unnerving. 

I tried to express my disquiet on the phone but knew that I sounded lame. She told me that she thought I would be exciting to be with, up for anything, and then she called me by that same name my mother had used in relation to my tired, gray, father. 

The reality was that I had experienced things, both in bed and out, which would probably make her hair stand on end but I did not want to seem a braggart and I could still not get past that shell of innocence that seemed to surround her. 

In a spirit of reconciliation she asked me if I wanted to meet for drinks and, even though I had an eight o'clock team meeting the following morning, I said yes. 

I offered to pick her up but she named a station south of the river. She arrived late, which seemed to be her habit, but she looked quite startling. 

She had on the same black boots that she was wearing on that first night but this time in combination with a short leather skirt, which looked a little pricey for her apparently limited budget, and a simple black blouse. 

She had also had her hair restyled. Her blonde tresses looked as if they had been hacked but in a manner that screamed professionally expensive. I could not make up my mind if I preferred this shorter look over her previous shoulder length style. 

I asked her where she wanted to go and she told me to wait and see. Instead of walking towards the restaurant district she led me towards the rear of the station. Here, under a series of railway arches, were a car body shop, a builders yard and a neon sign that proclaimed 'Freakshow'. 

There was a muscled doorman marshalling a short queue of people waiting to be admitted but Zoe went straight up to him and, after a few whispered words, we were ushered in. 

The Club spanned three arches and the utilitarian facade gave no clues to the plush interior. Upstairs there were two bars and an empty dance floor but Zoe led the way down to a much more open basement space. 

My eyes nearly popped out of my head as we took a table on the raised balcony that ran round three walls of the room. Up here everyone seemed normal but in the large central space it was a fetishist's day dream. 

Seated at the tables were men and women dressed in leather, rubber, latex and much else besides. Chains were much in evidence as were whips, canes and other implements that I did not want to think about. 

The décor was predominately black but it was cleverly lit. The balcony was cast in shadow giving the central area a sense of theatre. In the background an ambient track was playing with a slow heavy bass line that seemed in keeping with the surroundings. 

A waitress brought us drinks and I asked Zoe how she knew about the place. She told me that it was relatively new and that a friend of hers had been commissioned to produce some of the murals for the walls. Zoe had acted as hired help and got to know the proprietors. 

It turned out that 'Freakshow' was private members club but if you wanted to play the voyeur you could buy a day membership which restricted you to the balcony. 

As I cast an eye across the floor I began to perceive a common theme and Zoe confirmed my suspicions when she said that we must come on ladies night. 

Most of the women were dressed as dominatrix's, although one or two were cast in the role of subs, but all the men, without exception, were being treated as slaves. 

Some were chained to eyebolts set in the floor at each table, others were being led about on leashes as the women conversed. 

I have never seen the allure of the S&M lifestyle but the costumes being worn by some of the women were stunning. Unfortunately, this contrasted with the majority for whom it was very much a case of mutton dressed as lamb. 

However, even some of the less attractive women had a certain something. They obviously found their fantasy roles empowering and they held themselves with a proud dignity. Some were clearly conscious of their audience in the shadows. 

The men were the same mixed bag. Many were nearly naked and, whilst there were some Adonis's, most seemed to represent the runts of the litter. 

Fearing the answer I asked Zoe if she was into the scene. She laughed and said she had only been to the Club once or twice, thought it was a cool place to have a drink, and simply liked to watch. 

From what I could make of it there was not much to see beyond the people themselves. Certainly no one was being brutalized. After half an hour I would have welcomed the atmosphere of a traditional pub but at least I was restoring my broad mindedness credentials. 

Zoe must have sensed my boredom because she told me to pick up my drink and follow her. She led the way to the far end of the balcony where the stairway was blocked off by a heavy red rope. 

She lifted it aside, beckoning me through, and I looked around guiltily before following. 

At the foot of the stairs was another suited doorman but with a few more magically whispered words from Zoe we were through. To our left was the central arena but to our right a corridor let on to a number of private rooms. 

Zoe put a finger to her lips shushing me to silence and then led on. I could see that each door had a viewing panel but the first couple were closed from the inside. 

We stopped at the third, which was open, and peered in. The bare brick walls were painted black but brightly illuminated in the centre of the room was a man hanging by his wrists from the ceiling. 

He was completely naked and his toes barely touched the ground. In front of him stood a large woman of indeterminate age whose breasts were barely constrained by a cinched bustier. 

She said something that neither of us could catch and then she took a step back. She was holding a frightening looking whip and, as we watched, she began to lay into him. 

She did not hold back and I was stunned with the ferocity with which each stroke was delivered but, incredibly, her victim retained his silence. 

I could not help but cast a glance at Zoe and was surprised to find that my own shock was not reflected in her expression. If anything she seemed amused but it was too much for me. 

I progressed to the next door and looked inside. This room recreated a medieval dungeon down to the inclusion of an electric brazier mimicking hot coals. 

There were torture implements arrayed on the walls but incongruously set in the middle of the room was a vaulting horse. 

Another naked man was tied and secured upon it whilst two women took it in turns to thrash him with a long leather tawse. Unlike their compatriot in the room next door these woman were simply dressed in skirts and blouses although both wore high spiked heels. 

What I found incredible was their apparent normality. They were both reasonably good looking, the sort of women you might exchange a smile with in the supermarket, but here they were lashing out with all their strength to the extent that I could feel the concussion of each stroke from where I stood. 

I do not know how long I stood there but Zoe was suddenly giggling at my shoulder. 

"Someone's going to be sore in the morning." 

A third themed room was predominantly white and decked out like a hospital ward. A large sheet covered something in the middle of the room offering up no clues. I was about to give up on it but Zoe exhorted me to wait. 

A woman emerged from behind a screen and immediately piqued my curiosity. She was a tall, leggy brunette; early thirties perhaps, with strong features. 

Her modest breasts were nicely displayed by a red bodice from which long suspenders supported matching red stockings. She was not wearing panties and her sex was delineated by a dark Mohican. 

She took up the edge of the sheet and with a magician's flourish she whipped it aside to reveal three examination tables set side by side. 

To each a man was secured, held down by webbing straps which allowed little or no movement. Their heads were held equally still in a moulded cushioned overhang. 

She walked slowly looking down at each of their faces in turn and, as each became aware of her presence, they came to erection. 

My instincts made me want to shield Zoe, and save her any embarrassment, but she pushed me aside a little to get a better look. 

The woman seemed to arrive at a decision. One of the men was more corpulent than his fellows and it was on the floor, beneath his head, that she slid a small platform. 

Once it was in place she mounted it and with a single graceful movement she straddled his head facing down his body. After only a few seconds he began to quake within his restraints and I guessed he must have been having trouble breathing. 

If he was, she seemed unfazed. For the first time I noticed the stirrups which she could presumably use take some of her own weight but she did not seem minded to show mercy. 

Even as we watched, she lifted her feet from the platform altogether and opened her legs in a wide vee. 

I had seen enough. There was one last door and then we could return to normality. 

I felt a sense of relief when I found that the room was empty. It was brighter even than the 'hospital' room but still contained some familiar S&M paraphernalia. In the centre was a large white X shaped framework with sufficient straps to make its purpose obvious. 

I was about to turn and go when Zoe touched my arm. 

"Let's look inside." 

Before I could stop her she had slipped past and entered the room. I followed and tried to get her to leave but she was like a child in a toy shop. 

"Look at this!" 

She had picked up a flail and was whipping it experimentally through the air. 

"Go on, get up there, just for a minute." 

With a shock I realized that she was gesturing towards the whipping frame. I was about to tell her to act sensibly but then I saw the childish excitement in her eyes. 

I figured that I was fully clothed and it would do no harm to play along for just a minute. 

With an indulgent smile I stepped up to the cross and set my arms and legs along the limps. She immediately came up behind me and thrashed the flail playfully across my backside. I hardly felt it but I gave a mock yelp of pain. 

She clapped her hands with glee and almost before I knew it she was kneeling at my feet and binding a strap around my ankle. 

"What are you doing!" 

Even now I found myself whispering and she put her hands together in a gesture of prayer. 

"Pleeease….Let me tie you up and give you a couple on the bum. This is making me soooo horny. Then we can get out of here and you can fuck me senseless." 

She had pressed the right buttons and I was caught up in her madness. I let her finish binding me. The ankle straps were traditional leather buckles but the wrist straps were tightened with a handle that operated a ratchet. It took her a few seconds to fathom it out but then she had me secured. 

Once it was done I immediately began to have misgivings. It was not that I mistrusted her it was simply the sudden feeling of helplessness. 

She picked up the flail and play acted the dominatrix before hitting me twice across the backside. Again I pretended to scream but she sounded almost petulant. 

"This isn't working is it?" 

With that I felt her rolling my shirt up my back and tucking it into my collar. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Please…just a couple more." 

She set herself, drew back her arm, and thrashed the flail across my bare back. 

She was not very proficient. It stung a little where the tips had curled round into my rib cage but I had suffered a whole lot worse in my schooldays. 

She took up her stance once more and struck me with much the same result. I thought that would be enough for her but she was shaking out the flail for another attempt. 

This one was better delivered and I did feel its bite. I sucked air through me teeth. 

Gleefully she poked me with the handle of the flail. 

"Did that one hurt?" 

"Yes, I think you've had your fun for now." 

"No, no, just one more." 

She stepped back and I heard her draw a breath and hold it. This time her motion was fast and fluid. She followed through with the skill of a golfer and let the air explode from her lungs. 

"YAAAH!!" 

The pain was twofold. It felt like a punch to the kidneys and then a splash of molten heat across my back. I did not scream but I certainly swore. 

I was still coming to terms with it when she struck me again. Three equally vicious strokes fell in quick succession and I bellowed for her to stop. My back felt as if it was on fire. 

She dropped the flail and came around in front of me. 

"I'm sorry! I got carried away. You're twice my size, I didn't think I was that strong" 

As she spoke her hand casually dropped to my crotch and, in spite of everything, I felt myself coming to erection. 

"Zoe, undo the straps. We'll go back to my place" 

She reached up towards my wrist and turned the handle. 

"Shit." 

I looked up at her fingers. 

"What's the problem?" 

"Hang on a sec." 

She collected a chair and stood up on it but she was still having trouble. 

"Sod it, the bloody thing's tightening. Look, I'm going to have to get some help." 

"Zoe! Come back here!" 

"I won't be a minute." 

I swore as her disembodied voice reached me from beyond the door. On top of everything I did not need anyone else knowing what I had been up to. 

One minute stretched to two and then to three. 

"What have we here?" 

Startled from my reverie I looked around to find myself face to face with a statuesque blonde that I had noticed earlier in the evening. 




Missing the Signs



She would have been hard not to notice. She was wearing a form fitting leather one-piece that clung to her every curve from her neck to her ankle boots and they were pretty spectacular curves. 

Her exaggerated make-up looked as though it had been professionally applied and she could have been anywhere from twenty-five to forty. Her face was given added severity by the fact that her hair was tightly drawn back to form a ponytail which reached halfway down her back. 

She had a leash in her hand and kneeling at her feet were two guys who definitely fell into the Adonis category. Their tanned bodies were completely hairless and their skin oiled. 

She walked around in front of me and her two acolytes rose to their feet. Neither stood as tall as she did but their bodies spoke of hours spent in the gym. 

"I saw you up on the balcony. You were with that young girl. I've seen her before but you're new." 

"Look, there's been a misunderstanding. I sorry if you had the room booked, but if you'll kindly lend me a hand I'll get out of your way." 

She seemed to think about this as she walked around behind me again and then I felt her cool fingertips running slowly down my back. 

"A little amateurish but she shows some promise. It was your girlfriend that did this I presume?" 

My patience was wearing thin. 

"Please, if you'll just help me out here…what the fuck are you doing?" 

Her fingers had slid round to unfasten the button at the waist of my trousers and now she was pulling then down from my buttocks. 

"Just checking…You haven't done this before have you?" 

Her confounded fingers were now tracing a path over my exposed cheeks. 

"Look, if you're not going to help just piss off and leave me alone. They'll be down to release me any minute." 

She was in front of me again an unreadable smile on her face. Without looking down she reached between the legs of her two attendants and within seconds both were powerfully erect. 

She continued to stroke them idly as she spoke. 

"I will say this just once. If you I hear another single word from you before I leave this room I will have your mouth filled and, as it would be a shame to leave anyone out, we will have to find some way of allowing my other pet to take his pleasure." 

The implication of her words was not lost on me and I felt myself blanch. A sexual adventurer I may be but that did not extend to anything in the homosexual arena. I have nothing against gay men, live and let live, but it was not for me. 

In my past I had been invited to take part in threesomes but unless it involved me and two females the thought made me queasy. Perversely, of course, being in bed with two women whilst they went at one another was simply the biggest turn on imaginable. 

She moved her face closer to mine enveloping me in her chokingly exotic perfume. 

"Unfortunately for you I cannot resist fresh meat. I am going to mark you; just a few strokes…but you'll never forget." 

The expletive was almost out of my mouth before the mute to the left took half a step forward with his erection heavy in his hand. This was insane but what could I do? I cursed Zoe but at the same time I prayed that she would hurry back. 

The woman was moving behind me but I could not bring myself to look. My blood ran cold as I heard a whooping sound cutting through the air and I pictured the short whip that Zoe had toyed with before selecting the flail. 

For a few seconds there was silence; the only sound was the low hum of the air conditioning overlaid with the quiet susurration of the crowd another world away. 

My ears strained to hear the footsteps that would herald my salvation but all I heard was the slight creak of leather as she drew back her arm. 

I had a split second to register the hiss of the lash and then it exploded across my flesh. 

The breath left my body in a rush, a silent scream, as I endured a pain unlike anything I had ever known. 

I was still in shock when the second stroke fell across the first sending fresh waves of agony through my body. 

I wanted to kill her and thought that I very well might once I was released. 

When the third stroke fell I thought it was a mishit. It was as sharp and distinct as the first two, equally painful, but it felt as if I have been struck with the very tip of the whip. 

I was sweating freely but now she made me wait. She had said "a few"; was it over? 

The answer came suddenly, a fresh strike on virgin flesh to the right hand side. This time I did grunt in pain and felt sure that she must have drawn blood. 

The final three strokes came in quick succession, one beneath the other, as she demonstrated her skill and then, as quickly as it had begun it was over. She carefully pulled up my shorts and trousers and then refastened them. 

Without a word I heard her heading for the door and then, with a click of her fingers, the two men silently followed. 

My greatest shame over the next few minutes was not the pain itself, which seemed to increase before it abated, but the tears that ran freely from my eyes. I tried to dry them on the sleeve of my shirt as best I could. 

Shortly afterwards Zoe bounded breathlessly into the room. 

"I am so sorry. I got caught by the manger. You have to sign a disclaimer to use the equipment down here and when I told him what had happened he insisted I sign one to cover himself. You need to sign too when we get back upstairs." 

I had wanted to tell her that she was a stupid bitch and let her know what had happened but her guileless smile was so disarming and, after all, she could not have foreseen events. 

She climbed on the chair and worked on the fastening. 

"Oh poor you, you've been sweating." 

She adjusted the collar of my shirt and then went back to what she was doing. 

"It's so bloody simple when you know how. Look, you don't turn it, you just push down." 

Within seconds I was free and I hoped she did not see me wince with pain as I straightened up. 

When we returned to the balcony I was desperately thirsty and asked Zoe if she wanted a drink. She whispered her reply. 

"What I really want is you. I am so turned on." 

Now I was in a real quandary. I did not want her to see what had been done to me not least because I did not want her feeling guilty. As I sipped a beer I wondered how I could get round it. 

The idea of a 'wham bam, thank you mam' half clothed fuck did occur but, for once in my life, I wanted the first time to be really special. She did not make things any easier as she insistently rubbed my crotch beneath the table. 

The pain in my backside was subsiding, cooling to an almost tolerable warmth, so that everything below the waist felt like it was in heat. 

"Zoe, I'm very tired and I've got an early start in the morning. I want to make love to you more than anything in the world right now but I really want it to be something to remember." 

For a moment I thought she was going to be angry but then she smiled and touched my cheek. 

"I understand and I think that's really sweet of you. Perhaps we can make a weekend of it." 

Delighted to be let off of the hook, I kissed her across the table. We finished our drinks and headed towards the exit where, to my embarrassment, I had to sign the 'activities' disclaimer. Whilst I did so Zoe used the ladies room. 

She was gone a long time and a number of other women came and went whilst I waited. 

Finally, she half emerged and beckoned me over. As I approached, wondering what the problem might be, she grabbed hold of my arm and dragged me in. 

"Zoe!" 

"Ssshhh! Quick!" 

Still worried that there was something wrong I reluctantly let her pull me into an empty cubicle. She locked the door and then stifled a laugh. 

"I thought it was never going to empty out," 

"Zoe, what's going on?" 

"I hear what you say about making love but if I don't come right now I am going to die." 

Suddenly this seemed like the worst of all possible worlds, a quick, furtive fuck, in a toilet cubicle, but I had misread the situation. 

She put her hands on my shoulders and urged me down. 

"We can save the main course for the weekend but you can let me have a little hors d'oeuvre." 

This was not what I wanted but her insistence leant her a surprising strength. 

She lifted her feet from the ground and I instinctively crouched to support her. Suddenly I was on my knees on the cold, tiled; floor whilst she finished up sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. 

With a deep groan she planted her feet flat against the door trapping me between her legs. 

The shock on my face on seeing that she was not wearing panties must have been apparent because she gave a sly chuckle. 

"I had to flush them…they were ruined." 

In evidence of this her sex and inner thighs were slick with moisture giving rise to a powerful scent which, somehow, seemed out of keeping for one so young. 

She was immaculately depilated and her mound was a closed clamshell giving no hint of her inner lips despite her arousal. The thought that came to my mind, totally unbidden, was how deliciously tight she would be and, in spite of my trepidation, I felt the renewed stirrings of an erection. 

I cast my eyes up to hers to find they were dilated by pure lust. 

"Lick me…" 

It all felt so wrong; not just the setting but also the fact that I had been lured by the attraction of the very fantasy I had created of our first time together. I wanted to entreat her but I sensed that she was not going to accept another disappointment. 

With reluctance I bowed my head and presented my tongue. 

Even now, I could not bring myself to make a direct assault and I flirted at her inner thigh. 

"Yes! Lick it all up." 

It had not been my intention but she seemed excited by the idea of me taking the taste from skin and I lingered a moment before crossing the crease of her thigh and focussing on her mound. 

The first sweep of my tongue confirmed her youthful tautness but the second found only a warm, wet, embrace. Like an Aladdin's cave her sex opened up and I slipped inside with shocking ease. 

Her inner labia, previously hidden, now held my tongue in a silken caress encouraging me to go deeper still. 

She was seeping, filling my mouth with her viscous essence, and I had to swallow quickly to avoid choking. 

I had the ungracious thought that she would not last long but, whilst she still gave the impression of being caught up in the spontaneous throes of passion, I could not escape the feeling that she somehow remained fully in control. 

Her grip on my tongue was unremitting, keeping me close pressed, with only the occasional groan from which to take encouragement. I decided that I would try and hurry things along and shifted my stiffening knees slightly as a prelude to licking her clitoris but, as I did so, I heard a door opening. 

I froze, but was aware that Zoe was trying to suppress a giggle. A clacking of heels drew nearer and then, to my horror, the adjacent cubicle was occupied. My eyes flitted to Zoe's, wondering how we were going to extricate ourselves, but she simply gave me a playful cuff around the head and whispered. 

"Do it!" 

I could not believe it but it was clear that neither of us could move for the time being. With my tongue still locked tightly in Zoe's sex I was acutely aware of every sound coming through the thin dividing wall. 

I heard the rustle of clothing and found myself trying to imagine what the woman looked like. How would she react, I wondered, if she but knew the scene that was playing out less than an arms length away. 

Just to add to my discomfort she seemed unhurried but this only served to excite Zoe even more. She used both hands to pull me onto her and the resultant noises must have raised suspicions. 

Above all else she must have been intrigued by the curious, somehow familiar, odour. Zoe was in heat and her scent was contained and concentrated by the closed walls of the cubicle but surely it must have carried on the still air. 

At long last our neighbour tidied herself up and left and I assumed that this would bring an end to the proceedings. We had nearly been caught in flagrante and now was the time to make our exit but, in this, I had underestimated Zoe. 

She released her grip on my head but she did not move her legs leaving me trapped in a manner that made her requirements perfectly clear. I was not sure if I should have been annoyed or flattered but I began to use my tongue more actively. 

For the next couple of minutes she murmured encouragements but then she grew frustrated. 

"Wait. This isn't doing it for me." 

Now I felt hurt. It was not something I enjoyed doing but no one had ever criticised my technique before. I eased away from her and, unfathomably, found myself thinking of excuses and framing an apology. 

I thought that she was going to get up but, instead, she slid forward a little and replanted her feet higher up the door. 

"Go down…" 

A sudden surge of adrenaline made me feel light headed. She was lying almost flat with her head supported against the wall and I was staring at the full splendour of her exposed backside. 

My first thought was that it was beautifully shaped, unblemished and with an enviable firmness. I am the first to check a girl out, particularly if she wearing tight jeans, but this self confident display left me feeling, in some way, inadequate. 

There was no doubting what she expected of me and I was appalled. This was a complete no no and was one of barriers that had come up between Juliette and me. 

In the early days of our relationship she had shocked me by telling me that it was something she particularly enjoyed but I always fought shy. One night, after a heavy session at the local wine bar, I had awoken in the dark to find her settled over my face and I had made an unsatisfactory, slobbering, attempt after which it was not mentioned again. 

This time it was different; there was no comforting darkness in which to hide. The cubicle was white walled and brightly lit. 

Zoe had a beautiful creamy complexion but my eyes were drawn to that one point where it shaded to an intimidating darker hue. A trail of moisture from her sex revealed one or two tiny blonde hairs before it succumbed to gravity and was drawn into the well making it glisten wickedly. 

For a few seconds I remained frozen in place, my mind a frenzy of conflicting thoughts. Had it been anyone else I would have refused but there was something about her that simply brooked no denial. 

As I fought with myself my upper body began to sway but, slowly, inevitably, the forward motion won out. 

I applied my tongue to the long open furrow and licked along its length. The taste was a mix of sweat and arousal but it was quickly diluted by my own saliva. 

After that, it was easier. I adopted a slow, lazy, rhythm moving from bottom to top but, on each pass, I was ever more aware of that brooding portal luring me in. Its ribbed resilience was a stark contrast to the smoothness of her skin and, by degrees, it was dilating. 

"Now babe…do it now!" 

Her voice was a breathless, exhorting, whisper but even now I was struggling to confront the final taboo. 

I used the tip of my tongue to make a tentative exploration but I was all too aware of the latent strength that lay beyond. 

I applied a little more pressure but it was an unequal struggle until she grew impatient. She began to maul her sex, her fingers working vigorously, and there was a sudden easing. 

I was almost caught off balance as my tongue was let through. It slid deep inside to encounter a musty taste that was still redolent of her arousal. 

I could feel the movement of her fingers but I was caught in a mantrap, her hold on my tongue so sure that I could not withdraw. 

After a few seconds her sex was weeping and it flowed down to fill my nostrils but this was still not enough. 

"Do something! I want to feel your tongue moving." 

It was difficult to comply but, not without a little pain, I began to flex my tongue inside her. 

"Yes! That's it!" 

Her fingers became a blur and she began to emit a low animal growl which gradually increased in volume. Anyone entering now would be left in doubt what was going on beyond the locked door but Zoe was beyond caring. 

As her climax rose to a crescendo she bore down on my tongue with a torturous pressure causing me to gasp involuntarily. Fortunately, her orgasm was as brief as it was violent and, at its finish, I was swiftly ejected. 

As Zoe recomposed herself I checked my mouth for damage before, with a renewed fit of giggles, she led me back outside. 

Chapter 3 

I was simply not functioning. I was making more errors at work and I could not get her out of my head. Worse still, I seemed to be permanently erect. 

The usual suspects at the office flirted with me as normal but even women I would have otherwise found unattractive seemed to have an effect on me. The strange thing was that if any one of them were to have offered it up on a plate I would not have partaken. 

The prospect of having sex with Zoe at the weekend kept me on a permanent high. I had never felt this way about a woman before. I tried to put it down to the freshness of the relationship or the lure of youth but there was more to it. This girl could wrap me round her finger. 

My friends noticed the change in me, one or two even guessed the nature of the change, but I refused to tell them anything about Zoe. Deep down there was still a fear of ridicule. I was a master of the universe and she a penniless student. 

On Friday I was on tenterhooks checking my phone every few minutes for a text message but it was just the usual chaff. By Friday evening I had begun telephoning but I kept getting through to her evermore familiar voice message. 

She explained that she was on the books of a couple of agencies who were likely to offer her temporary work at very short notice including night shifts. She said it paid well but she often turned her phone off if she was tired. 

So it was that I ended up in the bar with the boys but I did not get the usual buzz from it. I drank a lot, seemingly without effect, and joined in with the usual chauvinist banter but my mind was elsewhere. 

I consoled myself with the thought that she would get in touch on Saturday but, by the evening, I had still not heard. After that it was easy to convince myself that she had meant Sunday all along but, as the hours dragged by, all was silence. 

That night I did not sleep as I imagined her enjoying herself with her young friends perhaps even one friend in particular. By the following morning I was a wreck and I did something I had not done for years; I phoned in sick. 

By ten thirty I was showered, shaved, and feeling slightly better. The sun was shining as I drove towards Zoe's apartment and I prepared what I would say to her. I rang the doorbell and my pulse raced when I heard footsteps on the stairs. 

My heart fell when the door was opened by Katie. She was sheathed in a silky dressing gown and looked as if she had just got out of bed. Her eyes widened and then glinted wickedly when she saw who it was. 

"Were you looking for Zoe?..." 

She said it a sultry manner which suggested that I might, in fact, have hoped to find that Zoe was not at home. I quickly put her straight. 

"I thought that you would be in school" 

"Ordinarily, I would but it's the half term holiday. If you are looking for Zoe, she's not here; I haven't seen her all weekend. I thought she might be with you as a matter of fact…lucky cow." 

"Do you know where she might be?" 

"Could be anywhere. She's ostracized by the family but she's still very close to her sister…and there's an aunt; they're close too, but I think they see each other without the family knowing." 




Missing the Signs



"Do you know where her sister lives?" 

"She's abroad at present so she won't be with her. Her aunt lives on the south coast somewhere, 'Coleridge House' I remember that because he's my favourite poet." 

It says something about my state of mind that I stopped off at an internet café and looked up 'Coleridge House'. There were three listed to the south but only one within comfortable driving distance. With little else to do to occupy the day I set off figuring that, if nothing else, the sea air would do me good. 

The drive took a little over an hour and the house itself was a surprisingly grand affair set in its own grounds. My instincts told me that this could not be Zoe's relative but I had to give it a try. 

I was shocked when the door was opened to me. The woman standing there could have been Zoe twenty years on. The resemblance was remarkable right down to height and body shape. 

She did not seem at all surprised to see me. 

"Zoe's description doesn't do you justice." 

"Is she here?" 

"She was, you had better come in." 

I followed her indoors and could not fail to notice as the sunlight, streaming in, caught her legs in silhouette through the thin material of her dress. 

As she led me through to the conservatory I took in the tastefully expensive furnishings. As if reading my mind she spoke. 

"I'm a lawyer. I used to be the black sheep of the family until Zoe recently assumed the mantle" 

I took a seat and she sat opposite. Her dress was slit to the sides and fell away to reveal an attractive pair of bare legs. She smiled as she caught me looking. 

"Zoe's told me all about you. She always values my opinion. It looks as if I was right about you." 

"How so?" 

"She says you keep trying to call. She thinks you're a little lovelorn. Do you not think that you're a little old for her?" 

I felt insulted but held myself in check. 

"We get along okay. It's early days." 

"My point exactly; and yet you've gone to the time and trouble to seek me out. What does that tell us?" 

I was getting angrier and found myself being more sarcastic than I intended. 

"So tell me, based on what you've seen, am I a 'good match' for your niece?" 

She seemed unfazed as she replied. 

"Zoe is going to be away for a day or two; I will not tell you where. I had a little wager with her that you would turn up, although I was not expecting you quite so quickly. We've agreed that once I've had a chance to 'evaluate' you I will let her have my decision." 

This was hard to believe. She met my mocking 'good match' with her own 'evaluate' and she was acting like a Victorian chaperone. 

"So what do you want me to do, sit a test?" 

"Fun as that might be, I think not. I'd like you to stand up and get undressed for me." 

If her intention was to shock then she succeeded. She smiled as I sat dumbstruck. 

"Zoe hates her mother, with whom she has nothing in common, but she sees something familiar in me. She said that you were a little prudish and I think she finds that off-putting." 

I was growing fed up with this idea that I was middle-aged before my time. I got up defiantly and looking her straight in the eye I began to undress. I am proud of my body and I had managed to retain something of my summer tan. 

I stood in just my boxer shorts with my hands on my hips. 

"My my, are we a little coy?" 

I did not like the unnecessary way that she stressed the word 'little' and I stripped off my shorts. I wanted to think of her as a dried up, frustrated, spinster but she was far from it. 

Holding my gaze she rose from her chair and unfastened her dress. As it hissed to the floor I desperately wanted to check out the garden to confirm that we were not overlooked but I refused to be the first to look away. 

She must have been at least forty years old but she was in great shape. She was wearing simple, but expensive looking, white underwear set off by a natural tan. 

I slowly looked her up and down but she was unfazed; she was fully aware of her own attraction. 

"Tit for tat?" 

As she said it she began to remove her bra holding it teasingly in situ for a second or two before casually discarding it. Her breasts would not have looked out of place on a woman half her age. They were a modest size with a pronounced uplift so that her nipples pointed skywards and, just for a fleeting second, I wondered if the resemblance to Zoe went further than just facial features. 

I could already feel a stirring from my groin and, as she slowly slipped out of her panties, blood began to run south. 

Her sex was crowned by a neatly sculpted blonde triangle which pointed the way and I got the sense that she was a woman of experience who knew exactly what she wanted. 

The problem was, what did she want? I was fully erect and, under other circumstances, I would have accepted the clear invitation but was this a test of my faithfulness to Zoe? Alternatively, was she going to be angry if I turned her down? 

The look on her face told me that she was aware of, and enjoying, my dilemma. With a strength of will that would have been beyond me just days previously I returned her smile. 

"Perhaps we ought to get dressed now." 

She gave an almost imperceptible nod suggesting that I made the right choice and then she checked her watch. Without making any sort of move towards her clothes she sat back down. 

She closed her eyes and turned up the palms of her hands whilst, at the same time, opening her legs a little. She looked quite natural basking in the strong sunlight and was alluring in repose. 

As I reached for my shorts she spoke again. 

"You'll find that Zoe is a little orally fixated; I think she takes after me. Do you think you can keep her fully satisfied?" 

I was beginning to think that she was slightly unbalanced. She spoke as if my relationship with Zoe amounted to nothing more than keeping her physically fulfilled which was ironic given that I had not yet had a real opportunity. 

Still with her eyes closed she continued. 

"I'll make a bargain with you. You will go down on me. If you can make me come within fifteen minutes I will tell Zoe that you have my seal of approval." 

I looked at her in astonishment. Stubborn pride had stupidly made me undress in front of her but what she was suggesting now was outrageous. The simple thing to do was to dress as quickly as possible and get the hell out but the thought that that might lead to an end of things with Zoe left me with a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

For a moment I stood fixed and then I took a first hesitant step. For her part it was as if she had been mentally counting down to seconds to a decision she knew that I would inevitably reach and, just as I began to move, she opened her legs a little wider. 

Even as I knelt before her I was asking myself why I was prepared to make this sacrifice for a girl I hardly knew. Perhaps it was because she seemed capable of seeing the real me beyond the brash exterior and the trappings of wealth. But just what had she seen? 

As I leaned down I reasoned that it was just fifteen minutes out of my life and I need never see her again. I put out my tongue which, even now, was still a little sore and licked the pink fringes of her inner labia where they lay exposed. 

She was hot and her scent rose from her vaporously showing that, for all her apparent detachment, she was aroused as I had been. I took this as a good sign and ranged over her whole sex with broad sweeps of my tongue. 

"So what do you think? Do I like it soft and gentle or down and dirty? You've got fifteen minutes." 

I ignored her jibe and concentrated on working her sex open. Like her niece she leaked copiously and I found myself, almost unconsciously, comparing the taste. Common sense told me that they should be no more alike than any two unrelated women but my tongue suggested otherwise. I knew it was a trick of the mind but there was also an illusive echo of something in my past. 

After a few minutes she squirmed fractionally in her seat and I felt just a tiny bit smug. I began to seek out her clitoris to bring matters to a close when I sensed a change in the room. 

Without knowing why I looked behind me. 

"Don't worry about me my dear. You carry on." 

Framed in the open doorway to the garden was a woman that the early novelists might have described as handsome. She was tall and dressed all in grey. A cashmere jumper showed off an impressive bust and a three quarter length skirt, worn over black knee boots, hinted at shapely legs. 

A curly mane of auburn hair described a face with high cheek bones over which her piercing blue eyes were given even greater prominence. At first glance I thought she was of an age with Zoe's aunt but then I noted, beneath the impeccably applied makeup, the laughter lines which probably made her at least ten year older. 

"Hillary, come and take a seat. This is Zoe's latest." 

I was bewildered. These women seemed to treat the whole bizarre situation as nothing out of the ordinary. Even as I was wrestling with this thought I considered the implications of 'Zoe's latest'. Did she bring all her prospective boyfriends to be vetted and what did that entail? 

I was about to get up but a hand on top of my head kept me in place. Hilary, meanwhile, casually sat down in the chair that I had recently vacated. 

"Is he any good?" 

"He shows promise. Do you want to try him?" 

At that point I lost it. 

"What the fuck do you think is going on here." 

I barely got to the end of the sentence before she slapped me sharply across the face. 

"Show some respect. Hilary, here, is my best friend and, until she retired last year, she was head of my chambers." 

I was so taken by surprise I did not even retaliate. I looked at Hilary who was already rising from the chair and starting to undress. 

"You know what. I think I will give him a try." 

It was a world gone mad. Why was this woman stripping off when there was absolutely no chance of me going anywhere near her? Well if she wanted to make a fool of herself then let her. 

Her jumper crackled as she pulled it over her head and then she deftly worked the fastenings of her bra. 

I have to say that her breasts were impressive. They were large but they had retained their plumpness and showed no hint of sag. I wondered if she owed anything to the surgeon's art but they sat very naturally. 

Her nipples were large in proportion and faced front almost arrogantly as they engorged in the cooler air. 

She shimmied out of her skirt and panties leaving her standing in nothing more than her boots. Her legs were well toned but they bore one or two of the marks of age. 

She looked like a woman who worked to keep herself in trim but she could do nothing about her slightly heavy hips and a hint of belly suggested someone who enjoyed the good things in life. 

Her arrogance had me seething. I had risen from fairly humble origins to achieve what I had but these women obviously had the backing of family money and connections to support their rise up the ladder. I totally resented the notion that they could have anything they wanted in life which, at that moment, included me. 

The bitterness broke through to the surface. 

"Is your husband no good in bed or has he just gone off you?" 

She did not appear at all disconcerted as she looked down at her wedding band as if noticing it for the first time. Then she looked back at me with an odd smile. 

"Sadly, I married beneath me; I fell for his physical charms and ignored his lack of breeding. Fortunately, my career has taken me all over the world and has provided me with ample opportunities to assuage my needs. 

Don't look so shocked. Women can play that game just as well as men. The truth is I gave up on my husband years ago. The closest he gets to me nowadays is when he uses his mouth and I certainly make sure that he keeps in practise in that regard." 

The nature of my career, and the machismo that it engenders, promotes a degree of broad mindedness but the matter of fact manner in which she spoke took me aback. 

Whilst I was still off balance she picked up a cushion and casually tossed in onto the floor. 

"Come and lie here. I'd like to ride that pretty face of yours." 

The woman was insane but, deep in my mind, something chimed. As I started to rise to my feet, to leave them to their madness, I had to cover myself to conceal the beginnings of an erection. 

The restraining hand on my head relaxed but she spoke sotto voce. 

"This might seem a little unfair, I know, but I don't want to see Hilary disappointed. You can leave but, I promise you, if you do you will never see Zoe again." 

No one, not even Zoe, was worth this. Her aunt let the thought hang for a second or two. 

"You were prepared to give me fifteen minutes. What's ten minutes more – six hundred seconds and its all over." 

The moment that I started to rationalize that thought my fate was sealed. Was I prepared to cast off Zoe so easily? Could I not swallow my pride and endure for a count of six hundred? 

I felt as if I was detached from reality, looking down on events, as I crawled the few feet to where the cushion lay waiting. I watched thin clouds scudding across a sky made impossibly blue by the tinted glass of the conservatory roof and then everything was eclipsed. 

"Are you ready?" 

Hilary loomed over me her smile almost a leer. She raised her foot and teased the side of my face with the pointed heel of her boot before stepping astride me. 

From my recumbent position her breasts looked intimidating but not as menacing as her sex. Seen from this angle she had a broad mound with long labia forming a dark slash. 

She began to descend with a gracefulness that her build belied her knees slowly pinning my shoulders. From a distance her sex had appeared hairless but now I could see that she was overdue for the beauticians. Her mound shone with a fine silver sheen which was a further betrayal of her true age. 

She hovered over me for a few seconds inviting me to contemplate the nature of my ordeal and then, with an audible sigh, she closed me in. 

It was a nightmare from Edgar Allan Poe as her thighs pressed against the sides of my face and then her weight forced my head deep into the cushion. 

Her sex was something amorphous as it split and moulded itself to my features in a suffocating wetness. 

I was struggling for breath and it was only by angling my head down a little that I could manage but her goal was sensory overload. My eyes were fixed on her perfectly varnished fingernails as she gently took hold of her labia and sealed them over my nose. 

She held herself in place and smiled as my distress increased. When I reached the point where I was going to buck her off she relented and eased back just a little. I tried to fill my lungs but she cut me short. I found myself sucking on her sex and filling my mouth with her cloying taste. 

Age clearly had no bearing. It was the familiar female essence that I had come to know so much better in the past few days although the scent was underpinned by a heavy perfume that she had dabbed on the inside of her thighs. I was left wondering if this was for the benefit of her browbeaten husband. 

For a few moments she was content to toy with me settling herself over my mouth and rising at indeterminate intervals to allow me a tainted breath but then she grew more needy. 

"Use your tongue." 

As she said it she moved forward a little shutting me off from the light; I was already hot but now it became stifling. Her new position made it a stretch for my tongue but she was not seeking finesse. I probed the soft wetness that enveloped me and pressed as deeply as I could. 

It had an immediate effect as she began to squirm but, as she did so, she seemed heedless of her own weight. But for the cushion my head would have been crushed but even as it was the pressure was painful. 

I began to count to myself and I was in the hundreds, thinking it would soon be over, when she drew a deep breath and held it. 

For a second or two she was mercifully clear of my mouth but then, with studied deliberation, she rubbed herself over my whole face. 

It was as if she was marking her territory as she smeared herself from my chin to my forehead and I felt particular disgust as she encroached right into my hairline. 

If it was an attempt to humiliate me then it succeeded but I could get over it; no one was ever going to know. 

The surprise came when she repeated the movement bearing down just a little more heavily. I barely had time to register how wet she was before she made a third traverse. 

She was gauging the topography of my face and, when she was satisfied, she started to move with a slow, easy, rhythm. She demonstrated remarkable suppleness as she drove from the hips only slowly gathering speed. 

To begin with it was bearable but, as her excitement grew, she sought more friction at the expense of my battered face. Only her natural lubrication kept it from being complete torture. Her sex and thighs, as well as my face, were all oiled but I was gasping in the heated smell. 

Her movements became more rapid, more purposeful, and she began to grunt with effort. My skin felt as if it was being abraded and I wanted it to stop but there was a latent, feral, power within her. I am a big man but I was paralyzed with a fear that I did not understand. 

I knew that ten minutes had long since passed but, finally, she literally ground to a halt. Her sex was centred over my mouth and I felt her thighs tighten as her orgasm took hold of her. 

I opened my eyes but all I could see was imposing under hang of her breasts. 

My muffled ears picked up a muted keening cry and then a gush of moisture exploded into my mouth. 

Fearing that I would gag I began to struggle but she rode me down and I had to swallow quickly as the inundation continued. I thought that my skull was going to be crushed by the combination of her weight and her powerful thighs but she finally relaxed and moved back. 

She rested on my chest for a few seconds and then she stood up altogether. 

"My God, that was good." 

She did not deign to look back as she gathered her clothes leaving me to sit up and try to clear my head. At that moment I was more desperate for a shower than I had ever been in my life but as I cast a glance at Zoe's aunt she was sitting with her legs wide open. 

"You've still got another eight minutes…" 

Chapter 4 

"I think it's really sweet that you tried to find me and my aunt thinks you're great by the way." 

Just hearing her voice again was a thrill. After my encounter at the coast I decided that, if only for the sake of my sanity, I had to try and cool things down. I left one final message on her voice mail telling her to get in touch when she was back in town. 

Over the next three days the urge to try her phone again seemed to rise up every few minutes during my waking hours and any sleep that I did get was restless. 

At work a new trading account that should have come to me went, instead, to a recent incomer from our New York office. I was off of my game and it was being noticed. 

Then she called. 

She had been staying with a friend who had just come out of a long term relationship and needed a shoulder to cry on. I jokingly told her that I would not mind a few minutes on her shoulder myself when she became serious. 

My heart lurched when she told me that she had some things she wanted to discuss with me and she would not be drawn on whether or not they were good or bad. 

She suggested meeting up at 'Freakshow' again. It was the last place I would have chosen but she told me that she had some complementary drinks vouchers and I sensed that she would have been upset if I turned down her hospitality. Money seemed tight and this was her way of giving something back. 




Missing the Signs



I insisted that we ate first and I booked a little trattoria that I knew just outside the centre. It seemed to strike the right note with its mixed clientele ranging from students to young professionals. 

I tried to get her talking over the meal but she kept the conversation light. More than once I contemplated the fact that she was not the best looking woman I had ever been out with nor, but some stretch, was she the most intellectual but there was something about her. 

To my mind the term 'magnetic attraction' when applied to a relationship was a nonsense but I was being forced to rethink. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, the possibility that the attraction worked both ways. 

Any hopes that she had forgotten about the club were dashed when she suggested that we take a cab. As before, a few discrete words with the doorman were enough to get us in. 

It was far busier than our last visit. The bars upstairs were filled and there were people on the dance floor but Zoe headed straight for the basement. 

After I adjusted to the dimmer lighting I found that it was a different atmosphere. This time there was a mixed crowd of dominant males and females and, I have to admit, that, like it or loathe it, the sight of some of the scantily clad 'slave girls' was very easy on the eye. 

Zoe found us a quieter table on the balcony and I was shocked when a woman across the room raised her glass to me. Tonight, she was more normally dressed but the tight three quarter length evening dress looked stunning on her. 

Her two companions, seated either side, still stood out. They were wearing identical designer suits with silk ties and would have graced the cover of any men's fashion magazine but it was still obvious to everyone that they were in her thrall. 

The temptation to cross the room and say my piece was strong but I bit my tongue and focused on Zoe. 

She looked at me intently before she started speaking. 

"Look, what I am about to tell you may sound stupid ludicrous and, if you want to leave, I will understand. I've just come out of a relationship, a guy named Duncan." 

"The guy who painted the murals?" 

"That's right. How did you guess?" 

"Well whoever painted them had to be pretty broad minded and I would say that covers one of your major criteria." 

I did not like where this conversation was going but she smiled and pecked me on the cheek. 

"You are so clever…" 

"So why did you break up?" 

She paused awkwardly before answering. 

"Have you noticed how I eat?" 

It was an odd question but, as it happens, I had noticed. 

"You cut up your food very finely and chew well. I assumed your mothers influence." 

"Not quite. I have a very exaggerated gag reflex I can't swallow too much at a time." 

For a few seconds I wondered what any of this had to do with her break up and suddenly realization dawned. 

She saw the understanding in my eyes and put her hand on mine. 

"I can't go down on a man. I've wanted to, so many times, but it doesn't work for me. Duncan and I really had something going but I knew it wasn't fair on him. That's why I called it off." 

I moved across to sit next to her on the banquette and drew her head to my chest. I told her that it was not important, that all that mattered was being together, and there was a truth in that. Unfortunately a more cynical part of my mind was suggesting that she had simply not yet met the right man, someone gentle enough and understanding. 

She looked up at me with adoring eyes. 

"You are so great. When you went down on me it was simply the best. I can't bear the thought of not being able to reciprocate." 

I gave her further reassurances and she squeezed my hand. 

"When I first saw you I in that bar I thought you were the usual city boy, a handsome bastard but no sense of adventure, then I brought you here and you were a real sport. Do you think we can really make a go of this?" 

I laughed, as much in relief as anything, and then she suggested, conspiratorially, that we take a peek downstairs. I was immediately wary but, if truth be told, I was curious to know if the men made as imaginative use of the facilities as the women had on our previous visit. 

Perhaps it was too early in the evening but, disappointingly, all the private rooms were empty. I was about to suggest we try again later when she tugged at my hand. 

"Wait, I want to try something." 

She pulled me into the 'hospital' room with its three beds and closed the door behind us. 

"I want to do it, like that woman did." 

To say I was reluctant was an understatement but I was now the understanding guy who was 'simply the best'. Even as I tried to think up an excuse I was checking the observation panel in the door to make sure it was shut. 

Her excitement had an infectiousness and it would only take a few moments to really seal the deal. 

With an indulgent smile I lay prone on the nearest bed but I sat up again as she reached for a webbing strap. 

"Please, just a couple, that's the real fun of it." 

I let her bind one loosely across my chest and a second across my thighs; if the symbolism was important to her there was little harm in it. 

I grew more concerned when she settled my head into the cushioned moulding. It was a snug fit to begin with but, as she turned a valve, there was a hiss of air and it inflated to hold me fast. 

I checked my range of movement but it was absolutely zero. Not only could I not move my head from side to side I could not lift it. The cushioned material curved over my cheek bones to almost touch my nose. 

I hoped my growing anxiety was not showing but Zoe was following her own agenda. She positioned the platform beneath me and seconds later she was astride my head looking down into my eyes, 

"Look at you, so helpless." 

I did not appreciate the slightly mocking tone but there was no denying the truth of it. 

She had removed her skirt and panties and her tight sex was positioned over my mouth. She relaxed her legs and lowered herself slowly. The cushioning took some of her weight, to the extent that she did not quite come to rest on my face, but it also had another effect. 

It splayed her sex and, almost immediately, a single drip fell into my mouth. I closed it reflexively but the steady tattoo continued until there was moisture running across my closed lips. 

"Are you getting wet down there?" 

The clarity of her voice was startling, transmitted somehow to speakers set into the headpiece. I could also feel a gentle waft of cool air around my face presumably to ensure that victims were not accidently suffocated. 

"Lick me!" 

I caught the hint of mischievousness in her voice as I made the long stretch upwards. I could only just reach and licked blindly at her moist centre. My reward was wetter face but judging by the creaking of the moulding as she slowly squirmed I was having a measure of success. 

She kept me at it for a few minutes and I was set to gently take hold of her hips to signal that enough was enough when she reached backwards. 

"Oh no you don't." 

She laughed as she tugged at the webbing strap across my chest. I felt it tighten pinning my arms more securely to my sides, 

"You've got to make me come first." 

She was still laughing but I was getting irritated. I had assumed that she had simply wanted to give it a try and, for my part, I guess I was hoping to get her just hot enough to want to come back to my place. 

With a spark of petulance I withdrew my tongue. 

"Oh, come on baby, don't be like that." 

She wriggled playfully but I did not oblige; I was soon wishing I had. 

I heard a slow escape of air and the narrow gap between us closed to nothing. I was now bearing her weight on my face and the cushioning welded us together. 

In seconds I had gone from relative comfort to a living nightmare. My nose was closed off and her sex pressed demandingly against my mouth. I fought down a rising wave of claustrophobia as I broke out into a cold sweat. 

I wanted to shout at her but I suspected that the sound would not travel and she might misinterpret my anguish for excitement. 

I did the only thing I could and that was to do as she demanded. I opened my mouth and put out my tongue. 

The immediate effect was that she sank even further so that her sex wedged my mouth open with my lips reluctantly forming a seal. I licked frantically, trying to make her ease up a little, but she grew increasingly stimulated. 

"Oh yeah!...Eat me!" 

This must have gone on for some minutes during which time my breathing became more panicked and the lack of oxygen made me start to zone out. 

I was telling myself that I must work on her clitoris but in the sultry heat and wetness I was growing more confused. 

When the end came it was more the novelty of the equipment, and perhaps my helplessness, that provided the trigger as opposed to anything I managed to achieve with my tongue. 

Her body stiffened, granting me momentary relief, as she went into meltdown and her squeals of ecstasy hurt my ears. 

In the immediate aftermath she did not even have the strength to lift herself and I was again subjected to a Chinese water torture as her sex leaked its excess. 

Her voice, when it came, was unsteady and still shrill with excitement. 

"You've really set me off. I've got to use the loo…unless…no, I don't think you're quite ready for that." 

The import of her words left me so stunned that I did not even shout after her as she skipped away. 

I was left by myself to the silence of the room when it occurred to me that she had not even bothered to dress but then, in a place as bizarre as this, who would care? 

Almost immediately I tried to get myself free but the strapping across my chest hampered my movements and I could not get enough leverage to raise my head. I could partially move my legs but that was all; I was going nowhere fast. 

Her returning footsteps brought huge relief but the wrong blonde eclipsed my view. 

"Well, well, we seem to a making a habit of this." 

On seeing my nemesis I felt the uncomfortable echo of the pain she had inflicted on me on my previous visit and I felt bile rising. 

"Just fuck off and leave me alone." 

She smiled and allowed the tip of her ponytail to tickle my captive face. 

"You're obviously not familiar with the rules. Anyone found down here is fair game." 

I made another frustrated effort to free myself as I replied. 

"You try anything, and I will hurt you so badly…" 

She laughed at my threat and mounted the platform setting herself astride my head. At the same time she lifted her dress to reveal her lack of underwear. 

"Don't you find it beautiful? Surely you want just a little taste?" 

For a second I wondered how that might be achieved. Her thick labia were pierced and each was set with a fine gold ring. A slender chain bound them together. After getting over my initial shock I spat an insult. 

"Shouldn't you be trying to find yourself a blacksmith?" 

A hint of a smile played on her lips as she ran a single finger through her sex and dabbed it on my nose. With that she alighted from the platform. 

I was chalking it up as a minor victory when she returned to look down into my eyes. 

"Have you had you fill of women for now? Do you want something else?" 

Between her thumb and finger she was holding something that looked like a car tyre in miniature. She applied a little pressure and distorted it into an oval. I was still trying to divine its purpose when a strong hand grabbed at my trousers and firmly squeezed my balls. 

Tears sprang to my eyes and my mouth opened in pain. As I did so she deftly placed the 'tyre' between my teeth and released it. It immediately resumed its original shape keeping my mouth open in the process. 

I frantically tried to dislodge it but my teeth were caught in its ridged rim. With an effort I could close it but I did not have the strength in my jaw to keep it that way. 

My eyes widened in horror as she disappeared only to return with a simple plastic funnel. With calculated coldness she slowly inserted it into my mouth. 

"No one refuses me…" 

As though choreographed her two minions appeared at her side and I desperately tried to shake my head as they began to unfasten their trousers. They were both averagely endowed but to my terrified eyes their erections assumed the proportions of giants. 

She laughed as I tried to scream an entreaty. Without being told they took up station on either side of me and then she appeared between them. She took one in each hand and directed each of them the mouth of the funnel. 

"Okay, the first one to come gets whipped. The winner gets to go down on me for the rest of the night" 

With that she began to stroke them as I feverishly, but impotently, tried to bite the funnel closed. 

She showed no partiality stroking them both with a slow, regular, rhythm whilst she continued to ignore my ever more desperate attempts to beg. 

I wanted to close myself down, to curl up into myself, but the opening to the real world was through my mouth and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. 

She was a mistress of her craft and she used the pads of her thumbs to coax their glans. Both men were groaning now with the effort of holding back but she was unremitting as she continued to draw them on. 

They had their eyes closed, both sweating, and then, to my own dismay, I felt myself coming to erection. There was no rational explanation for it. I was abhorred by what was happening but it was almost as if I could feel her fingers working on me. 

What came next seemed to happen in slow motion. One of them broke, the look of surrender evident from his face just before its physical manifestation. I closed my eyes but I could not shut out the hideous sound from the funnel. 

I then suffered long seconds of anguish before my mouth was filled with viscous, salty, goo. Even as I swallowed my stomach was rebelling and I tried desperately to keep it under control 

I opened my eyes, in the hope that she would take pity, but she smiled as she milked him of every last drop. At the finish his expression of contentment was replaced by one of fearful remorse as he no doubt contemplated the price he had to pay. 

His companion, by contrast, could afford to relax but now she played a new game as she held him on the edge knowing that his agony of expectation was equally matched by mine. 

Over the next couple of minutes she teased him to the brink only to continually deny him but when the dam finally broke he came like a fire hose gushing into the funnel so quickly that I could see the level rise with the excruciating knowledge that it only had one place to go. 

I swallowed but the taste still invaded my mouth and lingered. It reminded me a little of chlorine but it had no disinfectant quality. Just then I would have sold my soul for a toothbrush and an inch of Colgate 

When she was done she calmly removed the funnel whilst her companions fixed their clothes. When they were done she eased the 'tyre' from my mouth and left me without another word. 

I wanted to rage at her but it was a while before my abused jaw began to cooperate again. By the time I had worked some life back into it Zoe reappeared. 

"I'm really sorry I've been gone so long but there's someone you have to meet." 

Chapter 5 

I went to the men's room where my stomach finally surrendered. I was in no mood for meeting new people but I tidied myself up as best I could and stopped off at the bar where I purchased a large brandy and downed it in one. 

From across the room I saw Zoe seated at a table in company with a man who was attracting a lot of attention from people of both sexes to which he was totally oblivious. 

I regard myself as a reasonable specimen but he was in a different league. The was something almost effeminate about his thick, curly, hair, which he wore long, but this was offset by his strong features and his rangy build. If they were casting for the Olympian pantheon then he was in with a good shout. 

Somehow, without being told, I knew this had to be Duncan and I felt a pang of jealousy. 

Zoe caught sight of me and excitedly beckoned me over. Introductions were made but I responded coolly. More cocktails arrived and I was conscious that I was probably overdoing it but I felt to hell with it. 

I wanted to hate him but he turned out to be a really nice guy. For an artist he seemed well versed in any number of subjects and had a knowledge of sport that rivalled my own. 

At some point Zoe disappeared to the ladies room and it was a few seconds before I even noticed she had gone. Duncan leaned in a little closer. 

"They've asked me to paint another mural and I was going to ask Zoe to help out. I just wanted to make sure that you're cool with that." 

He had no reason to ask for my opinion but I thought better of him because he had. I told him that I had no problem with it and he smiled warmly. 

"You're a really lucky guy. Zoe is really something special. The truth is I think she was a little too much for me. We get along better now we're just friends." 

Zoe came back with yet more drinks and Duncan told her about the new commission. She was excited at the prospect and when he told her that he had already drafted a few preliminary ideas it seemed only natural to accept his invitation to come and take a look at them. 

His studio was just a short taxi ride away and came as a big surprise. This was no lonely artist's garret; he occupied the whole upper floor of a warehouse conversion overlooking the river. He was clearly more successful than I had imagined. 

The studio area was defined by a series of huge skylights which let on to an open plan living space. It was sparsely, but tastefully, furnished and would have graced an interior design magazine. The kitchen was a contemporary mix of polished concrete and zinc whilst the sleeping area housed an oversized bed and I could not help but picture Duncan and Zoe together on it. 

He produced a bottle of chilled Stolichnaya Elit from the freezer, along with some chilled shot glasses and we continued to drink as they pored over the drawings. 

I began to feel decidedly strange. Normally an excess of alcohol makes me sleepy but, whilst I felt a little weary, my mind was buzzing; it was more akin to the couple of occasions when I had dropped a tab of ecstasy. 

Zoe took my hand and led me towards the sleeping area. 

"You have to hear this!" 

She pushed me down onto the bed and squatted down next to me. At a press of a button we were suddenly surrounded by sound. I could now see that the corner posts of the bed doubled as column speakers and a slow ambient dance track washed over us. 

There must have been a bass speaker secreted elsewhere as I could literally feel the rhythm transmitted therapeutically through the bed itself. It felt so relaxing and when she began to kiss me and undo my shirt buttons I did not resist. 

When she had finished with my shirt she started to unbutton her blouse and I felt my heart quicken. I wanted to sit up to see where Duncan had gone to but she put a finger to her lips and shushed me as she started on my trousers. 

At another touch of a button the lights dimmed and the volume of the music rose a little. She skilfully divested me of the remainder of my clothes until I was lying naked with an erection made painful by its intensity. 

She took her time as she teasingly removed her bra and I gasped as her breasts were revealed. They truly lived up to their promise, firm, rounded and with nipples that formed perfect chocolate circles from which the engorged teats rose enticingly. 

She let me lick them fleetingly but then pulled away and undressed completely.