1 comments/ 27290 views/ 5 favorites The Comfort of Strangers By: trevorm The Christmas holiday was in full swing. The Gare de Lyon was surrounded by busy crowds, rushing around, families, friends and individuals laden with cases, bags and skis. Snow had started to fall from the Paris night sky. Leona, having already delivered her mother and children onto the station concourse was settling-up with the cab driver. She gave him a decent tip and he smiled in appreciation. "That's very kind of you, Madame. Have a good journey. Where are you off to?" "Morzine." "It's all right for some." "The children are having a skiing holiday." "Lucky them. Lots of snow this year I'm told. Well, enjoy your holiday anyway. Happy Christmas to you, Madame. Au revoir." Leona's mother had managed to find them a porter, the two children were waiting quietly, pacified by the promise of dinner in the station's famous Le Train Bleu restaurant before they boarded the sleeping car. They followed the porter to the lift. Passing under the great clock, Leona was struck by the Baroque beauty of the station interior. The restaurant was impressive too - the abundance of gold, the walls and ceilings enriched by colourful gilt-framed paintings depicting nymphs and nudes, and the heavy silver trolleys laden with roasts. If the smell of roast beef didn't make mouths water the sight of trolleys displaying an impressive range of patisseries did. The maitre d' found them a cosy corner and brought the menus. Sophie, with assurance beyond her age, declared that she would not have the soup as starter. "I'll have the snails," she proclaimed, all grown-up and important. "That's quite rich and filling for an hors-d'oeuvre," her grandmother said. "It doesn't matter, Mum," said Leona "I'm taking the blocks off for two weeks." Sophie winked conspiratorially at her mum. Jack, two years older chose Hungarian sausage and ouillette with large French-fries. Leona and her mother, less ambitiously, selected a consommé and grilled meat for main course with a decent Bordeaux wine. Two young men, in their early thirties, looking merry with drink and Christmas cheer, both handsome in completely different ways and weighed down by luggage and ski gear, came to sit across from them, picked up their menu and ordered. Leona glanced at them and then fished in her handbag for her pack of cigarettes. She liked one before and after a meal. "They're bad for your health, Leona," said her mother, reprovingly. "We keep telling her that," said Sophie, earnestly. "I know, I know... Blow it!" said Leona. "I'll have to go and get some matches." "May I?" Suddenly one of the young men to the side of her was leaning across, holding out the flame from his gold lighter. Leona appraised him quickly. He had a pencil-thin moustache and piercing blue eyes, very good-looking. He reminded her somewhat of a matinee singer from the forties. "Thank you," she said, putting the cigarette between her lips and leaning towards the flame. Both the men were smoking. They smiled at her, at the children and her mother. "Holiday?" said the man who had offered the light. Leona nodded and smiled, but didn't say anything. She didn't want to appear to be encouraging them in front of the family. The men continued staring at her, almost rudely, emboldened as they were by alcohol. They were intent on getting her attention, but Leona remained seemingly aloof. She knew she was pretty, draped in the soft, black wool outfit that showed off her pale complexion and her ash blonde hair. She blew smoke and smiled proudly at her family knowing her admirers were eying her up. Her son also noticed their interest and with a distinct sense of possessiveness, remarked: "Why are those two guys looking at you like that, Mum?" "It's because they think mummy is very pretty," said Sophie, knowingly, cuddling up to her mother to demonstrate that Leona was hers and hers alone. This caused Jack to stand up and come over to kiss his mother. She held them both tight against her, tossing her head in the air and laughing, a tinkling, liquid sound which was accompanied by draughts of blue-grey smoke. She felt proud and comforted by the proximity of her children's warm young bodies. "Nice kids," said the other man who was blond and Scandinavian in colouring. Leona smiled her appreciation at the remark. The men had been drinking for sure, but seemed warm and friendly and good company and were obviously taken with Leona's family. The waiters brought the dishes. Jack sat down again and laid siege to his sausage with much enthusiasm, while Sophie tried to master the snails with tongs. "They keep skidding away," she remarked. She trapped one and popped it into her mouth before it could escape again. For a few moments, they ate in silence. From time to time, Leona would look up and across to the adjacent table. On each occasion, she would catch the eyes of one or other of the friends, sometimes the dark one, sometimes the fair one and sometimes both at the same time. She felt herself becoming uneasy. "What a pity I'm not on my own for once," she thought. "They're both rather handsome, these two. I'd find it difficult to choose between them... but then... why choose..? Oh, what a fool I am, anyway, they'll soon be leaving... I'd like to leave, too... I love mother and the children, but how nice it would be to be alone for a few days, to be free and irresponsible for a while, perhaps even a little risqué. Strange how these men attract me... It's reciprocal, they both like me too, it's quite obvious... what should I do..? I'd like to see them again... find out where they live... But I just can't speak to them properly in front of mother and the children... Oh, why-oh-why is life so awkward at times?" The plates were cleared away and the meat dishes brought on. Increasingly perturbed, she rather tersely dealt with the children's questions. Sophie pulled her by her sleeve: "You're not even listening to me, Mummy. What are you thinking about?" Leona kissed her. "I am listening, and I was thinking how bored I will be without you around, sweetie." "But I will be around. You'll come and see me in the evenings, won't you, Mummy?" "Of course I will darling...and Nanna. We'll all have dinner together one evening and go and see a movie... don't worry." Leona tried to feign interest in her own mother's discourse. She was voicing her concerns about the welfare of her grandchildren on holiday. Sophie and Jack were to stay in a hostel with other children close by the resort, while she and Leona had booked a hotel in the town. "They'll be fine, Mum, once they settle in. There are loads of kids their age and they're so well-supervised at the ski-centre. They're really excited about it. Anyway, I thought you were looking forward to having me all to yourself for a few days? We can go shopping for Christmas presents." Jack was putting in his two-pennyworth, asking whether he would be having the same instructor as the previous year, and if he could still go to the on-site cinema in the afternoons. Once again, her eyes met the gaze of the two men, compounding her distraction. This time, she didn't break the contact. She could sense their desire was the same as hers - brutal and transparent. She felt her face go hot and looked away. There was something oppressive about their presence, her heartbeat quickened, her hands were becoming clammy, the bottom half of her body turning to lead. Shards of lucidity kept on telling her she was mad, sick, a sexual pervert. She fumbled for another cigarette. It trembled between her fingers. The man who had offered her a light before got to his feet this time and stepped across. A pale yellow flame shivered in the eddy currents of air. Leona took hold of the young man's hand to bring it to the level of her cigarette. He could feel her slender hand shaking. This brief contact caused her inner turmoil, the lighter's flame going out under her breath. "Oops," said the man. "Guilty conscience? Try again." "I'm sorry," she said, looking up. "I don't know what's the matter with me." "Too much excitement perhaps?" he said. She felt herself blushing. Her emotion climaxed as she witnessed the tanned and stirring face of the man with the moustache. His ice-blue eyes bore into her soul. He flicked the lighter back on. Leona breathed the smoke in deeply with great relief. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. "Thank you." "A pleasure," he assured her. He sat down again, saying something to his friend who was smiling back at him. The arrival of the dessert trolley was a welcome diversion. The children wanted to try everything on offer - the chocolate mousse, the rum-baba, the egg cream, the raspberry pie, the blackcurrant sorbet, the chocolate cake, the iced meringues, the tarte-tatin; their eyes were already devouring every morsel. Leona chose to have only black coffee which brought affected admiration from the first man, saying now he understood why she was so trim. Once again she blushed. Leona laughed kindly at his flattery, and indeed she did feel flattered. She smiled at him and found herself entering into salacious reverie. A scenario of being seduced by two handsome men at the same time unfolded in her mind and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat for a second or two. Her mother's voice snapped her back to earth: "We ought to be making a move soon, Leona. We only have ten minutes or so." Leona glanced at her watch and then at the clock on the wall for confirmation. "My God... I hadn't realized!" The last hour had passed so pleasantly for her. "I'll call the waiter for the bill and ask him to find us a porter." The time was fast approaching and the train would depart. Leona requested the bill and a porter. The two young men offered to help out with her luggage, but soon stopped smiling when they saw how many cases she had with her. "Don't worry... I'm going to ask for a porter," said Leona. "Where are you going?" said the matinee idol. "Morzine." "I don't believe it! What a coincidence, so are we," they said together in such harmony that all three burst out laughing. "Well, the children are the ones doing the skiing. Mother and I are just lending moral support'," added Leona. The look of disappointment on the faces of the two men when they realised that Leona would not herself be skiing was obvious. Her mother watched her with disapproval while the children looked on with gathering interest. Before they could talk anymore, the waiter had brought the bill and informed them that a porter was on his way to help them. They reached the train and searched for their allotted berths in the sleeping cars which they located in the middle carriages. Whistles were already blowing and the locomotive's engine was being gunned impatiently by its driver. Wafts of diesel fumes fanned their cold cheeks with warm air as the guard ushered them on board and the porter carried their cases into their cabins. Once aboard the ticket inspector opened the door connecting the children's and the grandmother's cabin. They moved and jumped between the compartments with uproarious glee. Leona walked out into the corridor, and noticed the two men coming towards her from the other end of the sleeping car. The same emotion that had overcome her in the restaurant returned, only more violent now. She had to admit to herself that she wanted both of them together, that their joint desire was inflaming hers. "I'm a complete freak," she thought. "What's got into me? What would my children think if they knew what I was thinking? They'd be mortified. She suddenly felt ashamed of herself; a woman of forty should know better, should have control of her feelings. Her thoughts returned to the children, her conscience bringing her back to reality with natural maternal concern for her offspring. Of course she was concerned as a mother and hoped they would be safe. Children didn't see danger. Adults, especially mums and grandmothers saw it at every turn. And what about Sophie? Such a young lady now... she looked thirteen, not ten. Would she once again fall in love with her instructor? Last Christmas she had sworn undying love to an Austrian ski instructor called Stefan. One week after the holiday she had forgotten all about him. How fickle the affections of the young. She wondered if young girls were ever really young at all. "We were looking for you...Will you come and have a glass of champagne with us? Celebrate the start of the holiday?" "No, it's very nice of you, thank you. But it's not possible, the train is about to leave." "But until Morzine we have hours." "I'm a little tired... and I have to sort out my stuff - my nightwear?" "Really? Claude and I just dump it all in the cabin and worry about it when we go to bed." The blond man laughed. "And sometimes not even then. We're usually too drunk to do anything." The three of them shared the joke, laughing loudly. "Come on," said Pierre of the moustache. "Just have one drink with us before bed... a glass of wine, perhaps?" Leona hesitated for a moment, thinking she would really like to, but knowing she just couldn't abandon her mother and family to please herself. Please say yes, said Claude, the fair one. "We would be most honoured." Leona let the flattery wash over her. "No, I'd love to, but I really shouldn't. It's very kind of you." The young men demonstrated their disappointment by entering into a paroxysm of play-acting that would have graced any theatre in France. She laughed at them, and they milked the moment for all it was worth until they were all laughing together, the men taking the opportunity of bumping her gently with their bodies as they fell about. A final, long shrill whistle sounded and the carriage gave a lurch as the train set in motion. They stood in awkward silence for a moment after their fit of laughing, unsure what to say next. The men stood either side of Leona, kind of boxing her in. Leaning on their elbows in front of the corridor window, they watched in silence as the dark buildings of Parisian suburbs slid past, broken here and there by the occasional light from a window. Pierre put his arm around Leona's waist. She was surprised, yet not surprised. Should she show disapproval and move away, perhaps out of self-respect, politeness? Then again, she didn't want to appear cold and put them off. But then Claude put his arm around her shoulder and her knees went weak. "You're both very kind... and charming. Look, I'll go and unpack my night stuff and maybe we can meet up later... in the bar? Is that where you'll be?" "Yes, yes," said Pierre. "That is where we will be. We will wait for you there. You must come... please say you'll come. You are so very beautiful." "Very beautiful," agreed Claude. The last lights of Paris whipped past at increasing speed and were soon replaced by the blackness of night. Leona returned to her compartment. "What was all that laughing out there just now?" said Leona's mother. "Just sharing a joke with someone, that's all." "I heard men's voices. Who were you talking to? Was it those men from the restaurant?" "That's for me to know and you to find out." Leona looked at her mother and tapped the side of her nose. Leona's hands were visibly trembling with excitement as she delved in her case for the things she needed overnight. Her excitement was mixed with a lust, a yearning for physical contact, for sexual love. The fact that the two young men were relative strangers added a touch of intrigue and glamour. With strangers there was no axe to grind; one could lose oneself in the anonymity of a situation. That was the beauty and comfort of strangers. The children were already in bed, but were far too excited to sleep and were chatting away merrily. Leona's mother had busied herself with her knitting. There was a knock at the door. Leona answered it. "You ordered hot chocolate, Madame?" A uniformed man stood in the corridor with a silver tray carrying a mug of steaming liquid. "No, I... oh, hang on a minute, monsieur ... Mother? Did you order a hot drink?" "Yes. That's for me... thank you." Leona paid the steward and said: "Well, Mother, you're certainly looking after yourself. I think I'll just pop along to the bar. A glass of wine usually helps me sleep. The rocking of the train sometimes keeps me awake and I want to be fresh for the morning." "Nonsense, Leona. You always sleep like a baby on the train." Her mother issued one of her looks: "I would have thought you'd already had enough this evening. It's almost ten o' clock." "Why don't you join me?" Leona felt she was on safe ground with her mother already settled down with knitting and drinking chocolate, but she prayed to herself nonetheless that her mother would decline the invitation. "Somebody's got to stay with the children." Her mother sounded grumpy. Did she suspect something? Leona went to the bathroom and touched up her makeup and hoped she wasn't being too obvious. When she came out her mother said: "Are you meeting anyone?" "No?" Should I be?" "It's just that you've tarted yourself up." "I've just freshened up, that's all, Mother." For the first time that evening there was irritation in her voice. Did mothers have a sixth sense about certain things, or was it just that they were downright nosey and possessive? "I won't be long," and she went out into the corridor and headed for the restaurant car feeling peeved at her mother. She didn't see them at first, not at the bar and not seated anywhere. She suddenly felt self-conscious, a lady on her own. People stared at her. She began to feel angry that perhaps the two men had tricked her. No, it wasn't possible. They seemed very genuine and really keen to meet up. Perhaps they had got fed up waiting and already turned in for the night. "A drink, Madame?" The steward behind the bar polishing glasses was trying to attract her attention. She turned to face him, blushing and feeling rather foolish. "What will it be..?" "I-I-" "Here, let me..." She spun round at the sound of a familiar voice. It was Pierre. "Didn't think you were going to show up, and it was so crowded we had to sit at the far end. We saw you come in. I'm so pleased. Claude and I have champagne open. Please... Come and join us." Pierre took hold of her hand and led. Leona's emotions were a mixture of relief, excitement, confusion and guilt. This wasn't right, she told herself, leaving her children and mother while she went to have a drink with two strangers. Some company she'd turned out to be for her family. But it was only to be one drink, wasn't it? She wasn't out to get drunk and disgrace herself. She promised to make amends later, telling herself she would spend extra time with the children and take her mother out... to see a film, the theatre, perhaps treat her to a new outfit... there were some good stores in Morzine. The champagne was on chill. Pierre lifted the bottle from the ice bucket and poured a glass for their guest. "I'm Leona, by the way." "Let us drink Leona's health," said Pierre, with a flourish of his hand and bowing of head. They raised their glasses in a toast to Leona and drank wholeheartedly and soon another bottle was ordered. Leona felt the pleasant mellowness of alcohol take over her body. Her hang-ups and inhibitions seemed to drain away. She said things perhaps she wouldn't have said had she been more in control. But for the first time in a long time since her husband had left her, she felt desired, attractive and free of the shackles of responsibility, if only for an hour or so. She felt herself floating, yet in control and animated and surprisingly witty but when Pierre suggested they go back to their cabin for one last drink before turning in for the night she had the good sense to decline. The Comfort of Strangers But she had reckoned without the determination of her two admirers who eventually badgered and battered her into submission with their relentless, gushing entreaties. "Al right, all right... but just one drink... I really do have to get back. My God, you two are so persistent." The three of them staggered out into the corridor and headed for the men's berths, Pierre leading the way. Before they were halfway along their carriage Pierre stopped and turned, took Leona's into his arms and crushed his lips against hers with such force she felt she must surely bruise. His passion was animal-like. Such was the fervour and ferocity of his embrace that she hardly noticed Claude's hand, first feeling her bottom, running his forefinger up and down the cleft of her buttocks, before venturing up her knitted dress, exploring her stocking tops and coming to rest on her warm damp crotch. Claude felt the woman's legs give at the contact, as if in surrender, but maybe she was just unsteady on her feet because of too much champagne. Whatever it was she seemed happy to ignore the persistent pressing and probing of Claude's fingertips while allowing Pierre to explore her mouth with his tongue and her breasts with his hand. Claude's fingers were soon slipping inside the leg of her lace panties and foraging through the warm, coiled hairs. "I think perhaps we'd better go inside," said Claude, huskily. "Before anybody comes." Leona laughed inwardly at Claude's unintended pun, aware now of the solid erection against her bottom, and from the front, Pierre's hardness too. "My God," she thought, "I'm to be fucked by both of them at once." They slipped inside the darkness of the men's cabin and stood together in a huddle, arms moving furiously about each other's bodies, the male hands taking the most blatant of liberties with Leona's possessions, while she in turn felt for their cocks and squeezed and rubbed gently through the coarse fabric of their jeans. Leona abandoned herself to their attentions, their passions, and their sheer brutality. Claude's mouth was upon hers now, firmer than Pierre's, different in taste. She did not care whose hand was on her cunt or whose hand was unzipping and removing her dress. It was gratuitous free-for-all and she was ready to give every bit of herself. Fingers penetrated her front and rear and moved inside her with an animal baseness that thrilled her and which stoked the fires even more. Leona made no attempt to resist them and allowed the flagrant abuse to continue and intensify. For her part she used her right and left hands to unbutton and unzip the men's jeans in unison, pulling them down with one good tug each, and then their underpants which they kicked free of their ankles. In the darkness the lights of a passing station momentarily illuminated their erect penises. The sight of their manhood made the passion flow through her loins like warm mercury. She was aware of the deepening penetrations of her vagina and anus, the insistent opening and widening of her two orifices as if being prepared for salacious sacrifice. Was it the same hand, or two different ones? The men seemed to have a telepathic understanding of each other's movements. It was as if this was a practised routine, a well-rehearsed play, something they knew off by heart, as if they were used to working in tandem and sharing the same woman. Without interrupting their kiss, Pierre helped the young woman out of the black knitted dress and let it fall softly to the rocking floor of the sleeping car. She stepped out of it now wearing only a grey silk slip, lined with ochre lace. The hands of the two men moved across the surface of the slip. They rubbed themselves against her, their seeping cocks leaving little beads of wetness on the fabric as they teased her with little prods and nudges against her stomach and buttocks. The sensuous swish of silk on their penises stiffened them even more. She moved slightly, to feel them better. She thought they were getting even harder. Claude abandoned her mouth and, sitting on the bunk, pulled down the shoulder straps of Leona's slip and brassiere. Her milk-white breasts burst free, heavy and voluptuous, like two babies tipped out of a hammock. Claude buried his face in them, his mouth squashed against her musky mounds. He leaned back to admire them better, but in the darkness they were vague forms. But the warmth and closeness of them was enough to fill any gaps in his imagination. He felt them jiggle as if the train's movements were echoing through them, bringing the breasts alive, their raised nipples begging for kisses and bites. "How beautiful you are!" Claude caught the whites of her widening eyes. She pulled his head against her chest. He greedily nibbled one tip. Leona let out a small cry. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" "No, no, go on." Claude resumed his caress while Leona abandoned herself, a glutton for more. Pierre switched on a night light with a flattering soft red glow enhancing the eroticism of the scene unfolding before his eyes. It turned him on to see his best friend's mouth moving from one breast to the other while his hands roamed freely over the woman's splendid bottom. Pierre began caressing himself, maintaining his magnificent erection, although extra stimulation was hardly necessary to preserve his manly state. Pierre stopped to draw Leona's slip up over her head. She raised her arms as if in supplication. He then helped her out of her sopping knickers, bringing them first up to his nose and sniffing her feminine allure and then tasting her tangy sweetness. Leona was now naked apart from her suspender belt, her stockings and her shoes. Pierre could no longer hold back. He sat next to Leona on the bunk, the other side of Claude, angling Leona's back and hips towards him, and, holding her firmly by the waist, drove into her vagina from behind causing her to squeak like a mouse. Her back arched and her head fell against Claude who tenderly caressed her face and stroked her now sweat-matted hair as her body moved in time with the thrusting of Pierre from behind. She struggled a little, but the young man increased his hold on her and impaled himself even deeper. His sex felt extremely large for she had never felt herself as mightily invaded and stretched as this. He moved slowly and steadily inside her, whispering: "I love you, you are so good." Claude continued kissing Leona's head, while his hands played with her breasts and kept her nipples taut and erect. Pierre's cock surged on ever harder, a deep, savage lust rose inside Leona who came with a piercing shriek. "Oh, God...! I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." "Don't be sorry, Leona," whispered Pierre as he spurted inside her accompanied by several guttural grunts. The two men quickly got her to her feet, allowing her no respite, Pierre staying lodged inside her. Claude entered her from the front, knowing his friend had not yet withdrawn. This drew a short sharp shriek from Leona, anguished and amazed that she was able to accommodate both of them in a single orifice. But the sudden lance of pain was soon replaced by an exquisite sensation -- the dual sawing motion of the men as their cocks rubbed against each other inside her. Kissing her neck and back Pierre withdrew and next aligned his penis with Leona's anus, nudging at it, lubricating it with the wet, seeping tip, until the ring of muscle gave away to the insistent, steady pressure and penetrated her bottom with one smooth upward glide, like a knife through butter, until he was buried to the hilt. Leona gasped at the sudden brazen violation and adjusted to the combined fore and aft penetrations. She felt as if time was standing still, her body, blissful and buoyant in a dreamlike state. The swinging movements of the sleeping car completed the heavenly illusion. The men extracted themselves from Leona and eased her down onto her knees where it seemed perfectly natural thing to take Claude's vagina-wet cock into her mouth. She could taste the cocktail of male and female fluids which at first made her gag, but she eased back and recovered herself, taking his full length and cleaning him with her mouth and tongue. Claude came in seconds shooting his warm sperm against the back of her throat. She swallowed in reflex and the viscous, slightly saline-tasting sperm slipped down her neck. Leona shuddered. "Good girl," whispered Pierre. "Now do it for me," and without rest for a breather the young men turned Leona round so that his now flaccid and pendulous cock dangled against her bottom lip. "Now wash me before I fuck your cunt again." Pierre's derogatory dialogue inflamed her passions once more and she willingly took the tip in her mouth, sucked in a few soft inches and began caressing with her tongue until she felt it thicken and become erect. Then she sucked and masturbated the cock in equal measures until she felt the pulsing in his shaft and the jetting of his second orgasm. "You are so, so, beautiful," he panted, as he came long and gloriously into her hungry mouth. Pierre rested for a moment, refreshing himself from an open bottle of champagne while Claude lifted Leona onto the bunk and positioned himself between her legs. He then parted the blonde curls with his fingers and opened her. The wet pink grotto welcomed him in and within a minute Leona's hips were bucking to the skilful clitoral-teasing of Claude's pointed tongue. He took her to the edge time and again, never quite allowing her to come, drawing back just as she was about to convulse into orgasm, and then letting her recover herself before starting in again. "That's enough," said Pierre. "Let her come now." And Claude did so, with a final swirling flourish of the tongue which gave her an orgasm that nearly jack-knifed her body in half with its intensity. "Oh God, that was just unbelievable. You two are just... Oh my, goodness, I'm drained..." Suddenly she looked concerned. "Look, I really must go. They'll be wondering where I am." "Not yet, Leona," said Pierre. "There is just one more thing we must do before we say goodbye," said Pierre. "I have yet to cum in your lovely cunt and Claude has yet to sample the delights of your beautiful bottom." The men positioned her how they wanted her - lying on her side, Claude behind and Pierre in front. They took her like that and all came within seconds of each other, grunting and sighing and in Leona's case, shrieking her satisfaction as the final excruciating climax drained the last of her strength. "No more, she sobbed with joy. "Please, no more." When Leona crept back to her cabin all was quiet. Everybody appeared to be fast asleep. She went to her berth and undressed again in the dark and slipped between the sheets. Her body was sensitised and sore in places, but she was blissfully happy. She wondered if she would bump into the two men again in Morzine. Maybe they would repeat their adventure, and then again maybe not. The children would be occupied, but there was still mother to consider and entertain. When the steward knocked at the door to announce their arrival at Morzine station, Leona thought she wouldn't even be able to stand up again; her whole body ached so much. Aching, but satisfied. She shrieked in horror when she saw herself in the mirror. The circles around her eyes spread all the way down to her cheeks, her lips were swollen from too many kisses and bites, her tangled hair gave her the look of a wild, wanton woman. "I can't let mother and the children see me like this," she said to herself while brushing out her hair. She could hear the excited voices of the children next door, and the sounds of her mother moving about. "I'll have to get ready before I let them see me. And like she always did after a heavy night, Leona scrubbed-up well. The shower revitalised her and skilfully applied makeup hid the blemishes. Her head ached from too much drink but she was very happy. She felt desirable again, maybe a little slutty too, but desirable and her ego had received a welcome boost. How wonderful to have entertained and satisfied two handsome young men at once. She wondered if last night had all been a dream, until she bumped into Pierre and Claude again as they were leaving the station for the coach transfer to the resort. She was buying the morning paper at the station kiosk while a porter was assisting the children and her mother with the luggage when Pierre and Claude arrived beside her. They all looked at each other rather sheepishly, their breath steaming white clouds in the chill air. Coming face to face with them after such a night of intimacy wasn't easy. Everyone felt a little awkward and tongue-tied now in the hard light of day. They were affectedly formal towards each other considering the events of the previous night. No onlooker would ever have guessed what had gone before. She paid for the paper, thought briefly about saying only a polite 'thank you' for the evening and then goodbye. But she heard herself say: "Goodness only knows what you two must think of me. Did I dream all that happened last night?" "Possibly," smiled Pierre. "But I hope not. "Perhaps we all dreamed the same dream," laughed Claude, and suddenly the tension lifted. "You don't regret it, do you?" said Pierre. "You know, it's the first time we've made love to the same woman, together." This revelation surprised her, considering their accomplished joint seduction. "For me too, it was the first time," she said, still red-faced. Pierre cupped her chin. "You mustn't feel ashamed, Madame. We fell for you at first sight. It was a wonderful experience." She kissed them each on the cheek, with the affection you might show to a good friend or a child. "Yes, it was wonderful," said Leona. "Oh, while I remember... matches! I must buy some matches." "Here," said Pierre handing her his lighter - this time no flame. "It's real gold. It was my grandfather's. I want you to have it... to remember us by." "Oh no, I couldn't possibly." "Isn't this where we came in?" laughed Claude. "Please take it," insisted Pierre. "Think of us when you use it." "I'll treasure it always," promised Leona. She kissed them warmly, hugged them and said goodbye. Somewhere behind her, across the concourse, above all the other busy noise, she could hear the familiar voices of her children calling her: "Mummy, mummy... Hurry up, our coach is leaving.