0 comments/ 144778 views/ 68 favorites A Psychological Turn of Mind By: krr1957 This novella deals with themes of reluctant participation in a lesbian setting. If you think you might find such material offensive please try another story. Chapter 1 The applause swelled as I stepped up to the rostrum to accept the award and my only regret was that my mother and father were not there to share the moment. Whilst I gave my short, prepared, speech I scanned the audience in the hope of seeing my sister but, in spite of her promise, it looked as if she had not made it. It had been a long day and, as soon as it was polite to do so, I slipped away and took a cab back to my hotel. My mind was still buzzing as I unlocked the door to my room and let myself in but I was jolted back to reality. It was not so much the surprise of finding a woman on the bed as the fact that she was gloriously naked with her hand purposefully between her legs. I took in the situation at a glance. The woman had propped up the pillows to make herself comfortable and was watching a porn film featuring two pneumatic German blondes who were theatrically fondling one another's breasts. For a moment I remained frozen in the doorway, unsure how to react, but then, without missing a beat, the woman turned to me. "I think you have the wrong room." "I'm dreadfully sorry!" Without thinking I left the room, closing the door behind me, but on checking my pass card I found that the door number tallied. More confused than ever, I took the lift back downstairs and looked for the concierge. The desk advised that two keys had been requested for the room and I, in turn, confirmed that the second one was for my fiancé who would be joining me the following day. I was ushered through to the bar where I was presented with a complimentary drink whilst the problem was resolved but now I was concerned about her luggage which had been sent on ahead. Less than a quarter of an hour later, and with profuse apologies, the concierge escorted me back to the room which looked pristine. The bed was remade and a vase of fresh flowers lent a heavy scent. My suitcase, seemingly untouched, stood by the bed. As I showered I wondered what had happened, and who the woman was, but I was too tired to give it much thought. I slipped into bed and fell asleep almost immediately. I had set aside the following morning for sightseeing and to this end I went down for an early breakfast. I was sipping coffee and catching up on the news when I was tapped on the shoulder. "Good morning. I guess I owe you an apology." I was shocked to be confronted by my surprise visitor. The previous night I had wondered if she might have been a hooker who had taken advantage of an empty room but seeing her now, in an expensively tailored two-piece business suit complete with a Louis Vuitton document case, I realized that I was very much mistaken. She was startlingly attractive. She had close cropped black hair framing an oval face in which her dark eyes shone brightly beneath a pair of perfectly sculpted eyebrows. In fact her whole appearance screamed high maintenance. Her make-up was immaculate and, when she smiled, her full red lips opened to reveal Hollywood perfect teeth. "That's quite alright. These things happen." She put out a hand. "Liana." Without thinking I took it and it was only as I felt its warmth that I was confronted with an unsettling image of her as she had been just a few hours previously. "Would you think it terribly presumptuous of me if I joined you? I'm meeting a business colleague here." She took a seat opposite and I was lost for anything to say. In that end I settled for something inane. "Liana, that's a nice name." "French. My mother was from Limoges." For the next few minutes she seemed content to talk about herself and, in spite of my initial reservations, I found myself warming to her. She had a manner of speaking that was almost conspiratorial, as though she were divulging secrets to a best friend, and her slightly accented English added further charm. When she found out that I was alone for the day she asked if I would care to join up for lunch; her meeting was to be a couple of hours at most after which she was at a loose end. In the normal course of events I would have refused her offer but, ignoring my better judgment, I accepted. For want of anywhere better we met up in the hotel coffee shop and for an hour I sat entranced as she regaled me with stories about her job as a clothes buyer for a major department store; it made my own career in academia seem so dry by comparison. After lunch she invited me up to her room to see some of the samples she had been telling me about and, with childhood memories of dressing up games in mind, I tagged along. Her room was in a new annex, a long way from mine, and, as we walked together, I wondered idly how the previous evening's mistake had occurred. "What do you think of this?" She was holding up a emerald green brocaded top It was not the sort of thing I would normally wear and my dislike must have shown. "You're not seeing it properly. You have to see it on." Her enthusiasm was infectious but I was taken by surprise as she quickly unfastened her blouse and threw it onto the bed. Underneath she was wearing a half cup bra with lace trimming which hovered between pretty and provocative. Her breasts were a similar size to mine at 34C and I wondered if I dare ask where she had bought it. She put on the top and, on her, with her dark colouring, it looked stunning but she could see that I was still dubious. "Here, try it." She took the top off and handed it to me. "I couldn't." "Of course you can. Don't be silly." I took it from her and instinctively looked towards the bathroom but she had had no qualms about undressing in front of me and I did not want to appear prudish. I took off my own blouse, revealing my altogether more modest underwear, and put it on. Standing in front of the mirror I was surprised at how nice it looked on me and I turned a shoulder to get the full effect. "That is so you...but wait, try wearing it like this." As I stood there she came up behind me and reached around to undo the buttons, She slipped it off my shoulders and, before I realized what was happening, she had unfastened my bra. I covered myself instinctively but she was holding out the top for me to put back on. I never go braless but it felt so comfortable. It seemed to mould and support my breasts and, whilst my natural state would not be obvious to a casual observer, it brought the top alive in a new way. As I continued to preen myself in front of the mirror I realized that I had a problem. The movement of the fabric had brought my nipples to an embarrassing prominence and, for a second or two, I conjured up an image of myself wearing this and little else whilst my fiancé looked on with a expression of pure lust on his face. Liana stood expectantly, waiting for me to take it off again, and I felt the colour in my cheeks heighten but, if she noticed my state of arousal, she contrived to ignore it. Over the next half an hour we tried on more outfits and she had no reservations about stripping right down to her panties in front of me. The truth was I felt intimidated by her; she was a beautiful woman with self confidence to spare and it was as if I were standing in her shadow. Having taken off yet another dress I stood, once again, in just panties and stockings resisting the urge to cover my breasts. The tension must have been obvious to her because she took hold of my shoulders and turned me towards the mirror. "You are a very beautiful woman but the real art is to exude it." She smiled at my puzzled expression. "You know one of the tricks I use? Imagine you are someone else. Not someone outrageously different, perhaps someone famous, with similar features. It gives you a focus, makes you aware of how you carry yourself. You, you remind me of that actress in the film Grease." "Olivia Newton-John?" "That's her." She held my hair behind my head, imitating a ponytail, and I could see something of a likeness. I shared her blonde hair, blue eyes and high cheekbones and I had always thought that I looked younger than my twenty-eight years. I was still contemplating the image when she shocked me by reaching through my arms and cupping her hands under my breasts. "She can't compete with you in this department." She held their weight for a couple of seconds and then released me but it was time enough for my nipples to react. Feeling flustered I grabbed for my own clothes and quickly put them back on. I made my excuses, saying that I had to get ready for my fiancés arrival, and Liana began tidying up. She saw me to the door and thanked me profusely for lunch. "Wait." As I stood in the doorway she grabbed a carrier bag and began stuffing it with bits and pieces from her wardrobe. "Free samples, cosmetics mainly, I get given them all the time." She was being overly generous and must have sensed my unease. "Please, you would be doing me a favour, I couldn't take them all back with me." I got back to my own room and was surprised to see how late it was. Any thoughts about further sightseeing were set aside as I prepared for Daniel's arrival. As I showered I reflected, not for the first time, on the odd nature of our relationship. We had been together for four years and got engaged after three but in reality we had probably been in the same country together, at any one time, for something less than twelve months; his career as a field archaeologist and mine as a lecturer conspired to keep us apart. Even this meeting was contrived. Daniel was on his way to the University of Columbia from Syria but he had engineered a stopover so that we could be together for one night. Fortunately his flight was on time and we were able to meet up at the restaurant as planned. It had been two months since I had last seen him and his ruggedly handsome face looked even more weathered making him appear older than his thirty-four years. We brought each other up to date over the meal and then we adjourned to the hotel for a furious bout of lovemaking. As usual, after so long a period of abstinence, he came quickly but, much to my surprise, I was able to climax with him and I gave him no respite. I teased him back to readiness and rode on top of him until I reached a second orgasm and was disappointed when he could not manage a third. He fell asleep leaving me to ponder my wantonness and I guiltily concluded that it was the result of the frisson that I had been feeling all afternoon from being with Liana. This set off an awkward train of thought, as I was in no way attracted to other women, and I found that I could not get to sleep. I picked up my book, thinking that I would drift off after a page or two, when I remembered the bag of goodies that she had thrust upon me. I had not had time earlier but now felt quite excited. I retrieved the bag and sitting cross-legged on the floor I gently emptied it in front of me. It was mainly cosmetics but there were also some nicely wrapped panties and a pretty scarf.. I picked it up to see it better and gasped audibly. Underneath it was an expensive looking vibrator. It was large, much larger than my own modest model, but, more disturbingly, it was not new. It was fashioned from black plastic which had dulled with use and had the look of an old favourite. I stared at it for a few seconds unsure what to do and then, tentatively, I picked it up between my fingertips. I had a fleeting image of Liana using it and for reasons I could not explain to myself, I brought it closer to my face and took a furtive sniff. Appalled at my own behaviour, I was relieved to find that it smelt of nothing at all and I quickly thrust it back into the carrier bag. I collected the other gifts together and, having put them to one side, I crept back into bed. Before long I drifted off into a fitful sleep only to be rudely awakened by a six a.m. alarm call. We barely had time for showers and breakfast before the taxi arrived to take Daniel to the airport and I was left with a familiar empty feeling as I waved him off. Back in the room I began to pack ready for my own afternoon flight but I was left in a quandary as to what to do with the vibrator. I could have thrown it away and pretended that I had never seen it but then there was a possibility that Liana would realize what had happened and might ask for it back. In the end, and unusually for me, I decided to be bold. I went to her room and rang the bell. There was no immediate answer and I was about to go away again when the door opened. Liana was standing there in the hotels complementary robe obviously having just come from the shower. "Oh, I'm sorry." "No, don't be silly, come on in." I followed her inside and sat down on the edge of the bed. With a broad smile I handed her the bag. "I think you may have been more generous with your freebies than you thought." I expected her to be embarrassed but she looked in the bag and took out the vibrator as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "I thought that must have been what happened. Did you try it?" I was caught off balance by the casual way in which she said it "No, of course not." "You should have done. It's the best. Boy, did I miss it last night." As she spoke she used the robe to towel herself seemingly unaware that she was affording me a view of her naked body. "This hotel has a great porn channel." She must have seen the shock register on my face. "Oh, come on, you must have taken a peek." The truth was I had not. Once or twice, in the past, my curiosity had got the better of me but I found nothing arousing about the manufactured sex that was presented. "It's not my thing." "Well congratulations to you if you can get off on your own fantasies." Her smile became just a little mischievous. "What does it for you? A threesome? Two guys or a guy and a girl?" "I don't need that. I have Daniel." "You're telling me that a feisty girl like you doesn't fantasize?" She moved closer to me in that conspiratorial way of hers. "I have a regular boyfriend but that doesn't stop me indulging in a few flights of fancy. In this industry I get propositioned a lot, particularly the girls, you'd be surprised how many of the top models are lesbians." I thought back to the film that I had caught her watching and started to feel distinctly uncomfortable but she continued unabashed. "It's not that the girls aren't tempting I just need a little something extra." She was now right beside me, almost whispering in my ear, and I could feel her body heat. "You know what really turns me on?..." She said it so quietly that I turned my head slightly to hear better only to find myself looking directly at her breasts which had spilled from the robe altogether. "...I like the idea of making a straight woman go down on me." I sat immobile, my eyes slightly widened, hardly believing what I was hearing "Just imagine. She would be a little unsure at first, a little clumsy perhaps, but I would direct her, telling her just what I like." She was hovering over me and I felt like a mouse caught in the shadow of a hawk. I could see the slight dampness on her skin and I could smell the citrus tones of shower gel. "What do you think?" Her voice was husky, almost mesmeric, and the question had so many connotations. She shifted slightly and the edge of the robe caught on my knee opening it further. It was now like a curtain hiding us from the rest of the world, she naked and me staring mutely at the deep pit of her navel. It was all so terribly wrong. I knew myself to be assertive, self-assured and, to the outside world, an authority figure, but I sat there awestruck. I wanted no part of what she was suggesting but she wove a spell around me. I braced myself to get up, to laugh it off, to wish her luck with her fantasy, but I could not move. My world was bounded by her robe and the naked perfection of her body which was moving inexorably closer. I turned my head to one side. Was it my fault? Had I led her on in some way? Would she be hurt by my refusal? Even as these thoughts crowded in on me I felt the touch of her skin against my cheek. I remained motionless, listening to her heartbeat which seemed so much more controlled than my own, and then she leant forward slightly, enveloping me further, and I could feel the weight of her breasts pressing down on my head. I was cocooned in a warm, comforting, darkness and then I felt her hand stroking my hair with a soothing gentleness. It seemed so natural to rest my face against the warm softness of her stomach and I felt my eyelids droop. She continued with longer strokes following my hair down across the back of my neck and I bowed my head the better to enjoy the wonderful sensation. In my mind I was ticking off seconds telling myself that after the count of ten I would get up and pull myself together but ten became twenty and then thirty. The rhythmic caress disguised the fact that, by tiny degrees, her hand was becoming heavier and, millimeter by millimeter I was slipping down the wall of her stomach. I felt a tickling sensation on my nose and came to with a start. I was poised at the border of her damp pubic hair and the smell of citrus was underscored by something altogether more spicy. I would have jerked but, anticipating my reaction, she stilled her hand to keep me in place and stroked behind my ear with the edge of her thumb. Very gently I pushed upwards, testing the resistance, but she did not move. I wanted to tell her that she had misread the situation but, in some bizarre way, it seemed unladylike to speak whilst facing the floor. For a few seconds we remained static, held in tension, but then her other hand came into view. Her fingernails were immaculately manicured and varnished a deep red. She flexed them in front of my face before grazing them through her nest of curls. The effect was immediate. My nostrils were assailed by a rich, unmistakable, scent. On one level I was appalled but on another my unconscious mind forged the association with my own memories of arousal and I felt a warm, undesirable, tingling between my legs. As I watched her fingers slowly rubbing over her mound I was almost mesmerized and I was slow to react when she suddenly cupped my mouth and nose with her hand. I gasped in surprise but, in so doing, I breathed her essence deep into my lungs. My natural reaction was to open my mouth to draw a fresher breath but, as I did so, she slipped two wet fingers between my lips and my mouth was filled with a taste that was both tart and sweet. I knew my own smell, every woman does, but I did not know my own taste. Daniel had often tried to get me to go down on him after we had made love but I had always steadfastly refused. The truth was that I found no pleasure in the act but I would do it for his sake as long as he had showered beforehand. Now I was left to wonder if this was how I tasted; this earthy richness that had my tongue instinctively lapping for more as though it were doughnut sugar on my lips. At that moment I tried to regain a grip on reality. I braced myself to push her away but she anticipated me as easily as if I were a child. With a gentle strength she pushed my head a couple of inches lower and, at the same time she removed her fingers from my mouth. I was now pressed to her sex and I was amazed at how coarse it was. Ever since my own pubic hair grew in I have loved to run my fingers through it; not in an obvious attempt to stimulate myself but simply to enjoy the silky texture. I supposed I had reasoned that all women were alike but Liana's sex was framed by a starkly delineated black Mohican of tight curls that had an almost masculine quality. A Psychological Turn of Mind "Lick me." She said it quietly but assuredly and the words, cutting through the enshrouding stillness, worked to even greater effect. I did not want to do it, and I was reminded of my mothers hatred for "those women", but some devil within me was asking "who would ever know?". Like a child eating an illicit sweet beneath the blankets I tentatively put out my tongue. Her curls seemed to resist me as I pressed uncertainly only to yield suddenly revealing the frightening prospect of her labia. My own sex is almost childlike and it could in no way prepare me for what I now confronted. Her outer lips were long corrugated folds of flesh that clutched at my tongue as if drawing me into a trap. I wanted to free myself but, in that same instant, I caught the taste of her. The taste on her fingers had been just a hint: now I was drinking from the font. She was hot, syrupy, and the ripeness of it suddenly filled my mouth in a way that no fine wine could ever have done. With a vulgar greed I plunged deeper and closed my eyes as I found the well spring. "That's a good girl. Suck me.." I needed no bidding. I closed my mouth over her sex and drank deep literally slurping juices through her matted hair. I was like an animal and she petted my head knowingly. I was overtaken by a madness. I had a dim sense of my own arousal but, at that moment, my one and only concern was to get my tongue deeper. She indulged my need for a little longer and then, twining her fingers in my hair, she gently pulled me away. At some point I had come to my knees and she stood before me and slowly removed the robe altogether. Safe now, in the knowledge that she had brought me to an exact state, she moved around me and it was her turn to sit on the edge of the bed. I had sat uncertainly, maybe afraid, but her demeanour, by contrast, was assured, almost regal as she opened her legs wide. "You've had your fun. Now it's my turn. I want you to lick me...nice long strokes." She made everything seem skewed. I was almost left feeling that I had assaulted her and now it was incumbent upon me to make amends. I shuffled round to face her but there was no longer the comfort of darkness. I took in her smile, tolerant, perhaps even a hint of triumph, before my eyes dropped to take in the raw beauty of her sex. The curls were wet, flattened, allowing her relaxed labia to stand proud. They were like some species of exotic, dusky pink, sea creature sensing their surroundings and at their heart glistened the bright inner lips. I knew that I should have felt disgusted but, even as I stared, I felt my saliva glands readying my mouth. I wanted to devour her again but I was informed by instinct. Bowing my head I put out my tongue and touched the tip of it to the soft oyster bed only for her outer lips to enfold me in a beckoning embrace. The intimacy of it was almost overwhelming. I heard myself groan as I started to lap at her, running my tongue repeatedly along the whole length of her sex which yielded a little more with each stroke drawing me deeper. She started to seep; at first a thin, briny, offering, more the product of perspiration than arousal, but then a stronger taste exploding on my tongue. All the while she remained aloof issuing quiet instructions. "A little slower..." "Yes...just there." It felt like a challenge. I knew I was getting to her, every swallow confirmed it, but I wanted her to lose control. At some point I thought that she had climaxed, as I felt a sudden gushing, but she seemed unmoved. "Don't stop..." I lost track of time. I was dimly aware that my knees ached and there was a dull throb in my tongue but, at that moment, there was nowhere else I wanted to be. Her labia had become languid and she was now totally open to my attentions. I licked softly along her exposed inner lips and this finally bore fruit. She put her hand to the back of my head, stroking my hair encouragingly, and I felt her start to shiver. Spurred on, I began to lick more quickly. "Now!...Deeper!" I thrust my tongue into her molten interior only to feel it painfully clenched as she surrendered to the cramping contractions of her orgasm. It built and built, forcing an involuntary sob from her, and just when I thought it was over, the waves settled, it broke the surface once more. When she finally released me my face was wet from our co-mingled perspiration and her arousal and the air felt chill against my skin. I knelt there, bemused, looking at her sex, which was now a livid red, trying to come to terms with what had just taken place. This was beyond my experience and I had no idea what to say but Liana suffered from no such uncertainty. "That was wonderful. Give me a moment" She stood up on slightly unsteady legs and moved around the bed. She plumped the pillows and, when she had them just so, she arranged herself on the counterpane with her back propped and her legs open. "I'm ready." There was no question in her mind. She knew exactly what she wanted and my acquiescence was simply taken for granted. If I had had a shred of self respect left to me I should have got up and left the room. She had subjugated me but at least there would have been a minor victory in leaving her wanting more. I got up from my knees, and was at the point of moving towards the door, when I made the mistake of catching her eye. For a few seconds we waged an unspoken struggle and then she turned her head slightly and raised an admonitory eyebrow. Just then I heard my mothers voice, in an echo from the past, telling me that it was rude to stare and, without thinking, I cast my eyes down. She had her hand at her sex holding herself open. "Come and suck my clit..." The words, crude, coarse, out of keeping with her well modulated, accented, voice hit me like a cosh.and, under the weight of the blow I bent slowly to the bed. For a moment I lay there on my stomach looking along the canyon formed by the high peaks of her knees to where her fingers formed the columned entrance to her shrine. Like a supplicant I crawled forward and, as I did so, the columns parted slightly and I held my breath. Her clitoris bloomed into view and I could not believe that I had missed it before; it was a swollen bud so much larger than my own. I moved closer still and her steamy scent filled my nostrils like eastern incense clouding my mind. I closed my eyes and, breathing deep, I put out my tongue. By feel alone it seemed even larger and it had an odd, neutral, smoothness but I was aware of the pulse of her excitement. I began to move my tongue back and forth and was pleased when she took a sharp intake of breath. Emboldened by this small success I gently sucked it between my lips and licked more quickly. I could no longer taste her but it was as though my tongue was delivering tiny pulses of current. Her body began to shudder, at first almost imperceptibly but, as I grew in confidence, she jerked violently. Her bucking threatened to bruise my mouth but I was not going to relinquish control. At the finish she straightened her legs and crossed her ankles behind my head pressing her thighs to my ears. I was plunged into a sudden silence and then she started to come. I could not breathe and I felt cut off from the world but there was a wonderful comfort as I was squeezed to the sopping sponge that her sex had become. I was aware of a growing heat and of the pounding flow of blood in my ears and then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. She unwound her legs and I gasped for air but I could see that she too was struggling to bring her breathing back to normal. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Oh fuck...that was unbelievable." I looked up at her needing to make a connection, to make sense of the situation, but she stood and stretched keeping her back to me. "Haven't you got a plane to catch?" Chapter 2 I got back to my own room in a state of shock heedless of the odd looks I got along the way. I stripped off my clothes and jumped into the shower which I set to a punishingly cold temperature and tried to clear my mind. When I had finished I toweled myself vigorously but I avoided looking at myself in the mirror. I could not bring myself to put the same clothes back on and, in a fit of pique, I stuffed them into the bin feeling mildly disgusted when I saw just how damp my panties were. Once I was on the plane back to London I felt slightly better; after all, I was never likely to meet Liana again and, hopefully, the episode would soon be forgotten. In reality it haunted my dreams for weeks afterwards. The part of me that I liked to think of as sassy could see it as one of life's experiences, something I could tick off the list before I settled down with Daniel, but my mother had raised my sister and me in a strong high church tradition and I could not shake the feeling that I had, in some way, sinned. In the meanwhile my academic life slipped back into gear with the difference that my lectures were now far better attended. The controversy raised by my paper and the fact that it had been recognized with an award had given me a new cachet. Daniel and I kept in touch over the net every night and spoke at length on the phone at least a couple of times a week. I missed him sorely and the more so now that I was harbouring my guilty secret. There was no way in the world that I would tell him but I needed to see a reflection of myself in his eyes just to make sure that everything was just as it was before. One thing that did help to distract me was a new commission. I had only been back a couple of days when I received an offer from a publisher. As part of the celebrations surrounding the London "Year of Fashion" they were putting together a one-off magazine which would contain six essays from successful women in different walks of life on the theme of emancipation. I was very flattered to be asked as I could immediately think of at least half a dozen women in academia better suited to the task. They wanted fifteen thousand words and they were paying generously. I immediately cleared it with the university bursar and began research. It took a few weeks to put it together and I was pleased with the result. It seemed that the publisher was happy too and I was flattered and excited to be asked along to a session with a photographer so that my picture could accompany the article. I arrived at the studio in the late afternoon and spent an hour being pampered by a professional make-up artist before being introduced to the photographer. Her name was Trudi and she quickly put me at ease. She explained that the magazine was being sponsored by a major fashion house and she asked if I would have any objection to being photographed in something from their current range. She had not intended to upset me but my thoughts inevitably turned to my tryst with Liana. Trudi misread my mood and simply thought that I lacked self-confidence. She was a real sweetie, assuring me that I was beautiful, and I have to say that by the time she had me decked out in a daringly short skirt and a blouse which showed off my cleavage to devastating effect I felt like a film star. When she showed me the preparatory polaroids I barely recognized the gorgeous vamp staring back at me. In truth, I was a little worried about what my friends might think but, on the other hand, I could not help but feel that I was striking a blow for intelligent women everywhere. The photography itself took very little time but once it was over Trudi asked me if I wanted to tag along to the neighbouring studio where they were setting up for the magazine cover shoot. Still enthused with the excitement of this new experience I accepted her offer and followed her along the corridor to a second, much larger, studio. I have to admit that I had entertained the slimmest of hopes that my photograph might be used on the cover but when I saw the two models that they did intend to use I could see that there was no competition. I guessed that they were both in their early twenties and both were breathtakingly beautiful. The first girl, a blonde, had had her hair teased into a thick halo of tight ringlets and she was dressed in a period costume best described as a comely wench. The second girl had black hair drawn back from her face in a neat chignon and she was dressed in the style of a lady of the manor. There was much giggling as the wench was placed in a pillory whilst the lady of the manor stood imperiously to one side with a riding crop as a prop. The tableau struck me as titillating rather than relevant but I knew as well as anyone that sex sells. I watched in fascination as Trudi adjusted the set lighting and posed her models and in no time at all the shoot was over. The blonde was helped out of the pillory and, in a moment of inspiration, Trudi turned to me. "Let me take your picture in harness so to speak" I thought she was joking and tried to laugh it off but the others goaded me along. I did not want to seem a spoilsport and so I put my neck and hands into the apertures whilst Trudi lowered the yoke onto the back of my neck She took a couple of shots but then my blood ran cold. "Liana tells me that you like to play." She must have seen the look of astonishment on my face at the mention of the name. "Didn't you know? Liana is the associate editor for the magazine. I understand that it was she who put your name forward." I now knew why I had been chosen in preference to more esteemed colleagues in the profession but the knowledge brought no comfort. In fact, I began to panic and I tried to free myself from the pillory. "Don't hurt yourself. We borrowed it from a historic reenactment society. It's authentic in every detail. Look, you can even adjust the height." So saying she switched a wooden lever at the foot of the device and the yoke began to drop forcing me into a painful crouch. "Let me out. I've had enough." "Oh, don't be like that. I think we can have some fun. Girls, why don't you undress her." For the next few moments I put up a futile struggle whilst the girls, laughing all the while, slowly removed all my clothes. I tried kicking out but that only increased their amusement and put a painful strain on my neck. "Please, don't do that" Now that I was completely naked Trudi was moving around me shooting off more film. I tried positioning myself to protect my modesty but it was all too easy for her out manoeuver me. "Catherine, let's have you in shot." The blonde moved around in front of me and, kneeling down, presented the plateau of her cleavage to me in a parody of Nell Gwynn. I turned my head aside trying to avoid her but that only increased her amusement. Egged on by Trudi she slowly began to undo the buttons of her stiff top freeing her breasts. They were a modest size but it was her nipples that caught my attention. Coral pink with almost no areolae they were all teat and they stood astonishingly erect. For a second or two I stared without thinking and then realized that she was moving closer to me. She cupped her breast and began to play her nipple across my face and it felt as if she was using a pencil eraser. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out what was happening, but she knelt up a little higher, looming over me, and brushed a rigid teat over my mouth. She did it so gently that it tickled and, as I opened my lips to avoid the irritation, she slipped it inside. Obeying some long buried instinct I licked at her breast. It tasted faintly of coconut, presumably from a body lotion, but the tip itself was very slightly salty. I knew I had to get control of myself but my tongue seemed to have a mind of its own. The taste was gone but it just felt so right in my mouth. I licked in a circle, feeling it become even more engorged, and when I gently began to suck it seemed the most natural thing in the world. I forgot the others as I reveled in the sensation and I felt aggrieved when she eventually slipped away but it was only to feed me her other breast. I accepted it greedily and even began to use my teeth to nip gently knowing that this was something that I enjoyed when it was done to me. With my eyes closed I could hear laughter and occasional red flashs against my eyelids suggested that Trudi was still at work but I was totally rapt and minutes slipped by disappearing into the fog that clouded my mind. "It's my turn. Get yourself ready." I opened my eyes to find the dark haired girl whispering at Catherine's ear. She seemed reluctant to forego the pleasure I was obviously bringing her but, with the tiniest hint of petulance, she got back to her feet. From my cramped position it was difficult to look up at the dark haired girl, as she stood over me, but things quickly got worse. With a smile best described as cruel she took hold of the lever and switched it over. I gave a yelp as the weight of the yoke forced me lower still until I was just inches from the floor. For a few seconds I lay prone but I could not keep my head raised sufficiently to ease the pressure on my wind pipe. Instead, I was compelled to hunch up with my backside raised obscenely. "Please, this is painful." She ignored my plea and, for a moment, she moved out of my line of sight. When she returned she was carrying a cushion which she casually tossed onto the floor in front of me. I was still looking at her feet when her period skirt slid down her legs to pool around her dainty, stiletto heeled, ankle boots to be quickly followed by an all too modern thong. I should have protested, at least shown my anger, but knowing now that she was standing there as good as naked from the waist down excited me in an unnatural way. I even cricked my neck in a surreptitious attempt to cast my eyes upwards. "Is this what you're trying to see?" In a single graceful movement she dropped herself down so that she was sitting on the cushion and she hooked her long, lithe, legs over the yoke. In this way her thighs blinkered my eyes and I was left to stare at her sex scant inches in front of my face. "You like?" Her sex had recently been shaved and her pudenda were now dressed with a frizz of tiny black hairs. She was already moist and where the tiny fronds meet over her neat slit they formed a single wet line. The effect was extremely exotic and my tongue almost slipped between my lips. Putting one hand behind her to support herself she used the other to rub over her mound and the faint but audible rasp as she racked her nails through the dark stubble set my heart beating faster. My eyes remained riveted and, as I caught her scent, I was vividly reminded of what had passed between Liana and me. I was reaching a point of no return. I understood that I had to flee or be drawn into a web from which there would be no escape. The problem was that the pillory made escape impossible. "Please...this is not what I want." I knew I sounded pathetic but that only seemed to delight her further. "Are you sure?" As I watched her sex seemed to swell as though it were being inflated from within. The wet hairs reluctantly parted from one another as her slit slowly opened to reveal a surprisingly moist interior. She began to slowly rub the pad of her finger along her delicate inner lips and, in the quiet of the room, I could hear the squelch of moisture. My whole focus became her immaculately varnished nail with its scattering of stars on a dark blue background. As it moved up and down, almost hypnotically, a creamy high tide mark rose slowly up her finger. She was in no hurry and, as minutes passed, she rubbed a second finger against the first until they were both equally wet and only then did she start to push them deeper. A Psychological Turn of Mind She began to keen, a quiet, almost plaintive moaning but there was no sadness associated with it. The brightness in her eyes and the more urgent rise and fall of her chest betrayed her ever growing excitement and her fingers began to move more quickly creating a deep sucking sound. With a growing sense of urgency she introduced a third finger and drove them inside herself right up to the meat of her hand. The effort caused a fine sheen of perspiration to form on her inner thighs and the heat transmitted itself to my captive face. She was breathing hard but she managed a hoarse whisper. "This is for you babe...it's all for you." She slipped her fingers free and put her hand out to one side to help support her weight. Her sex remained open a raw, wet, pit and then her body began to convulse. When the first hot spurt struck my face I squealed. As it began to run down my cheek a second gobbet hit me and then, over the next few seconds, she carried on ejaculating spasmodically covering my face. When it was over she collapsed, completely spent, and I felt dirty and humiliated. "Give me a moment and then you can clean me up." I wanted to kill her but I had to keep my anger in check. I could do nothing whilst I was still trapped and I sensed that I would only make things worse for myself if I antagonized them. Whilst my tormentress was still recovering Catherine walked back into view. She had her back to me and was naked but for a network of black leather straps which girded her waist and thighs. They also criss-crossed her taut buttocks forming a stark contrast against her perfect creamy skin. "Wet it for me." She straddled the shoulders of her prone companion and I could now see the black phallus jutting out eight inches from her groin. Under other circumstances I would have laughed at the absurdity of it. If women wanted to do without men than why the hell did they try to imitate them? I wanted to ridicule them as she pushed the shaft down so that her friend could take it into her mouth but I have to confess that, for a brief moment, as I watched her expertly fellating it, I felt an undesired twinge of excitement. They played out the pantomime for moment or two but I was determined that there was no way that I was going to lick her just to get her ready for Catherine to attend to her with her strap on monstrosity. How could I have been so naive? Catherine got up smiling, with the hideous shaft glistening with saliva, leaving her friend to take up her position on the cushion once more. Trudi could see, as I could, that her arms were too tired after her exertions to take her weight and so she put down her camera and knelt behind her to give her support. This left her free to use her fingers to present her sex which was now a wet mess. "Are you ready for a taste?" Her tone was almost a taunt and my anger got the better of me. "Go to hell." This was Catherine's cue and I screamed in surprise. She had moved behind me and I now felt her cool hands on my buttocks and the unyielding shaft pressed against my sex. "Please!..Don't!" I braced myself for the inevitable pain but, as she leant her weight into me, I felt my sex opening to accept the intrusion. Having breached the portal she paused and I was left feeling ashamed at how wet I had obviously become. After a few seconds, during which I raised no further protest, she pushed gently and I felt the shaft begin to fill me inch by inch. I have had my fair share of men, and I am not shy when it comes to using vibrators, but I had never accommodated anything quite as large as this. By the time I felt the heat of her thighs pressed against my buttocks it felt decidedly uncomfortable. I dared not move but then I felt Catherine's fingertips on the outside of my thighs. Men always seem to feel the need to hang on tight, sometimes painfully so, but Catherine's touch was gossamer light. She stroked lovingly, causing my nerve ends to tingle and deep inside I felt my muscles miraculously relaxing. What, only seconds ago, had been an unwanted invasion now became a pleasurable distension. When she began to slowly withdraw I wanted to move back with her but she moved her fingertips upwards until they were gently pressing on my buttocks in a clear signal to stay still. She almost pulled out altogether, leaving me with an empty feeling both physical and mental, and I could not help but groan when she slowly filled me once more. For the next moment or two she repeated the process whilst, at the same time, her fingers continued to tantalize. I felt like a slut as I reveled in the sensations and the more so when the air was punctuated by a sound like water leaving a plug hole. I was incredibly wet and Catherine began to pick up speed. Daniel is a considerate lover but, notwithstanding his prowess and stamina, there was always the possibility he would race to a finish before I was ready. With Catherine there was no such anxiety. The shaft would not loose it's firmness but, better still, she found my natural rhythm. When making love there is a point at which the pace and degree of penetration is just right and, if I can surf that moment, I know that I can enjoy the most intense orgasms but men just cannot tune into it. It was as though Catherine could divine my body with her fingertips. She picked up the cadence and I began to soar but, no sooner had I taken flight, than she slowed to a stop. I immediately opened my eyes and tried to look back at her. "Please..!" "She'll start again when I think you're doing a good job." The dark haired girl, forgotten up to then, was preening her sex from which the smell rose like damp clothes in front of a fire. The prospect was unedifying but I would have done anything just then to make Catherine begin once more. I strained my neck and she smiled but, after a second or two, she shifted forward and I was able to lick. The taste was cold, a little sour, but now that she was assured of my submission she warmed quickly and I was surprised at how wet she became given her previous display. She was obviously pleased with my performance because I felt the tender caress of Catherine's fingers once more and then the shaft began to move. This time she teased me a little going just slightly slower than the perfect rhythm. In a demented twist of logic I licked faster and deeper in the hope that the Catherine would pick up on the girls satisfaction and reciprocate and so it proved. She moved a little so that I could fasten on to her clitoris and used a hand on the back of head to keep me just so. Catherine immediately picked up the beat. She was no longer driving to the hilt but it was more than deep enough. Beads of sweat dripped from my hairline to form a salty counterpoint to the nectar which I now craved, As my orgasm built I was sucking and swallowing hard. Her scent filled my nostrils and her taste cloyed in my mouth but I wanted more of it. Sensing my need she shifted upwards, allowing my tongue to go deep, and then she began to rub he clitoris at a dizzying speed. In the following seconds I thought I would go insane with pleasure. The first waves of my orgasm broke over me and, at the same time, my mouth was filled with a hot flood. I was not so much breathing as snorting. I started to relax waiting for the inevitable softening and the warm afterglow but this was different. Catherine barely paused. She kept up the same powerful, but tender, piston movement. I thought I had no more to give but she knew better. She drove deep a couple of times, coaxing me, and I felt the wave rising again. In front of me the girl pushed her fingers deep inside and then offered them up to my mouth. I sucked on them as though it were the sweetest taste in the world as Catherine took me over the edge once more. When it was over Catherine slipped from me and I was suddenly aware of different pains across my whole body. My neck, shoulder and back ached terribly and my knees felt swollen. The dark haired girl had got up from in front of me leaving me feeling exposed but I was relieved when she reached for the lever. "Wait a moment." Trudi had also got to her feet and it appeared that she had reached a hasty decision. Whilst I watched she quickly stripped out of her clothes and I got a sense that this had not been part of the script. I guessed that Trudi was a year or two older than me but her stylishly cut blonde hair, with its fetching fringe, made her appear younger Despite her pale colouring she had large green eyes and I suspected that there was some Celtic blood coursing in her veins. She sat on the cushion and placed her legs over the yoke but she lacked the natural grace of the two models. That was, perhaps, an unfair comparison; she was a woman who would turn heads. She had breasts that a man would find desirable but a female might consider just a little too heavy and if one was being critical she could shed a couple of pounds but the fact was, like her or not, I was in no position to be choosey. "Please, I've had enough." "The sooner you get started the sooner you'll be free." She had obviously been aroused for some time. She maintained a lush growth of hair but it was damp and flattened exposing her prominent labia at the apex of which her clitoris was already exposed. Over the past half an hour my face, nose and mouth had been coated with moisture and I would have expected my senses to be dulled but, as Trudi edged forward, my nostrils twitched as they once again picked up on her rich earthy scent. To start with I refused to co-operate but it availed me nothing. "I can stay here for as long as it takes...can you?" The fact was that every muscle in my body seemed to be protesting. I tried moving a little and that brought some ease but, after a time I found that I was just swapping one pain for another. Loathe as I was I had to do as she wanted. Catherine and her dark haired companion were standing watching, laughing at my predicament, and that only increased my ire, but pragmatism won out. I extended my weary tongue and began to lick. Trudi shivered at my first touch and she literally oozed moisture. It was if she had been holding back all this time and my tongue was the key to turning the valve. It may have been this that made the taste richer and I instinctively began to lick with the flat of my tongue seeking out every variation. Trudi started to moan, sounding like a porn film soundtrack, but there was nothing fake about it. I quickly reached the conclusion that this was her first experience with another woman and, knowing that I now exercised a modicum of control, I counted it as a small victory. I slipped my tongue onto her clitoris and she drew a sharp breath. It felt firm, like a tiny pebble half buried in sand, and I licked as if to free it. Trudi went into a paroxysm and I licked lower harvesting the moist product of her heightened arousal. She was breathing unevenly and shifting her position encouraging me to concentrate on her clitoris once again but I played out my advantage. I pushed my tongue inside her where it was immediately clamped tight. Breathing was difficult, not least because my cramped position applied pressure to my lungs, but each time I breathed out the warmth excited her even more. We remained in stasis for a moment or two until she finally forced the issue. She brought her thighs together pressing uncomfortably against my ears. Now I could not breathe at all and I felt my face flush in a panicked response. She gave it a few seconds and no words were needed. She relaxed her muscles and I capitulated. I withdrew my tongue and licked her as she wanted. Almost immediately her body began to shake and, as her climax began to build, she thrust her pelvis at me adding an extra strain to my already tortured neck. In response I licked more frantically, flicking my tongue in tiny movements, and I felt her clitoris swell very slightly. It was then that the dam burst. She thrust herself at me one last time and, with a drawn out scream, she started to come. I could hear her hands and feet clawing at the floor as she tried to squeeze out the last ounce of pleasure and then she simply collapsed. I was totally spent but I could not escape her sex which was still leaking just inches in front of me whilst her heavy breasts rose and fell as she struggled for breath. Chapter 3 They released me. I got dressed. I left. There were no histrionics. I could have shouted at them, perhaps I might have struck out, but there were three of them and what would it have availed me other than to compound my humiliation? Over the next few days I could not get the incident out of my mind. I had been kept against my will, I had been sexually assaulted but I had also experienced one of the most shattering orgasms of my life. Nothing made sense. Of course I considered the possibility that I might be a lesbian but then I had a 'dirty' phone conversation with Daniel. We had done it a couple of times before but this time I was really in to it. We would both masturbate, whilst talking on the phone, and then describe, in graphic detail, what we were doing and how it felt. The result was that I had an amazing orgasm; it was almost as if I could feel him inside of me. When I put the phone down I was crying. I missed him terribly but at least I had convinced myself that I was normal. At the University we were heading into the exam season and the longer hours helped me to keep my mind occupied and ensured that, once I got to bed, I did nothing but sleep. It was exactly a fortnight later that the incident was forcefully brought back to mind. I was called in to see Nadine Dexter, my head of department. At best, my relationship with Nadine, could be described as cordial. She was a Californian, ten years my senior, but, in my view, my intellectual inferior. It galled me, and others, that she held the universities chair of psychology, but it had been endowed by her property magnate father who could deny his only daughter nothing. She was well qualified, that was not in doubt, and she had published a number of papers, albeit that allegations of plagiarism lurked in the background, it was just that she had no drive. Having become one of the youngest doctors ever to hold a chair in an English university she seemed content to rest on her laurels. Her nickname amongst the staff was 'Sinister' Dexter. As I walked into her office I had trouble keeping my eyes off her chest. She had recently been back to California for a couple of weeks and the rumour was that she had taken the opportunity to have a breast augmentation. It would not have been her first surgery. She was a beautiful woman but she was determined to give nature a helping hand. To my knowledge she had had work done on her eyes and her nose and I had a suspicion that she had handed her surgeon a photograph of Demi Moore to use as a template. Her resemblance to the actress could not be denied. As ever, her office was impeccably tidy. It was one of the biggest on campus and overlooked the grassed quadrangle. The walls were oak paneled with original book shelves and she had supplemented it, at her own expense, with a large antique desk and leather armchairs. "Take a seat." I sat down, assuming that she wanted to discuss exam timetables, but then I saw the galley proofs on her desk. "I've just signed the release for your article." I already had financial dispensation from the bursar and it galled me that her approval of the content was required but it was a university stipulation as I was writing in my capacity as a lecturer and the institution was mentioned by name. "It's very good and this photo really does you justice." I felt a small swell of pride. Trudi was a bitch but she was also an exceptional photographer. The finished photograph to accompany the article really did make me look a bit of a minx. I wondered how I could get an original to send to Daniel. "Thanks very much. Is that all?" I got up to leave but she pulled me up short. "Sorry, yes, there is one other thing. I found this amongst the proofs." She handed me another photograph and I was instantly chilled by a cold sweat. It was a shot taken over the shoulder of the dark haired girl and it had been taken in such a way as to suggest that my face was buried between her legs. "I have no objection to you having a few personal shots taken but I have to consider the universities reputation." My mind was in turmoil. It was conceivable that the photograph had found its way into the envelope with the proofs by mistake but it was far more likely that it had been done deliberately. The more I had thought about it the more I was convinced that the incident with Trudi and the two girls had been orchestrated and the only name that made sense was Liana. But why had she set out to ruin me? I needed time to think. "This is somebody's idea of a joke." "That's as maybe, but what if this got into the press? I think it would be in the best interests of all of us if you were to tender your resignation. You could then sue the perpetrator if you wish and after a decent interval we could consider your reinstatement." It made no sense. She had approved my article but was now effectively sacking me to save the universities good name. My anger got the better of me. "Is this something personal? Do you begrudge me my recent successes?" Her reply was not what I expected. "Do I begrudge you? No. What I object to is your haughty attitude. I know that you don't like me overmuch but I resent the way that you continually look down your nose at me with that English superiority of yours." My innate sense of good manners made me feel guilty. I had no idea that she perceived me this way. "Look, Nadine, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause offence. It's obvious that someone is up to mischief I just need a couple of days to find out what's going on." She said nothing in reply and looked totally unmoved. "Come on, you know yourself, If I resign there will be rumours, there always are, this would not be good for me." "Perhaps you should have considered that before. Besides, people are far more tolerant of lesbianism nowadays." "I'm telling you I am not a lesbian." "That's a pity because I was going to suggest a compromise." I had a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach and my worst fears were more than realized as she slowly wheeled her chair back from her desk. She was completely naked from the waist down. Thoughts tumbled over one another. Her intent was clear but I could not come to terms with it. "But you're straight. You're engaged." She smiled as she leaned forward and laid the framed photograph of her fiancé face down on the desk. "What the eye doesn't see..." I felt unnaturally warm and feared that I might faint but, with a final effort of will, I turned away towards the door. "If you leave now I'll block your article and let the dean know why." I froze in my tracks and then turned to face her. When I spoke it took a conscious effort not to swear. "Why are you doing this?" "Because I can. If you had the power to make another woman go down on you, knowing she could not refuse, would you exercise it?" "Of course not!" Even as I spoke the words I doubted myself. What if the roles had been reversed? If it had been me sitting in the chair? For a second or two I conjured up the vision and it caused an unnerving tingle between my legs. I hated myself for the things that I had been recently made to do but, no matter how hard I tried to put it from my mind, one thought kept on intruding. Catherine had revealed things about my body that I was previously unaware of and I knew that, ingénue that I was, I was capable of taking a woman to new levels using my mouth. Now I wanted to know what it was like. A Psychological Turn of Mind Looking her straight in the eye I spoke tentatively. "Look, if that's your price, I'll pay it. I guess you should try and experience everything once before you settle down." I gave what I hoped was a disarming smile and continued. "Let's leave early, get ourselves a hotel room, and take it from there. Then, after today, we need never speak of it again." She did not respond immediately and I dared to hope. The truth was that the incongruity of the situation was stirring something inside of me. Her office exuded intellectual gravitas and she herself, in her starched blouse and expensive silk scarf, was half tuned to the sober atmosphere but I could not pull my eyes away from her long, bare, legs. After an interminable pause she deigned to reply. "Don't get me wrong. You're a beautiful young woman but, frankly, I'm your boss and I will not be compromising my position of authority. You, on the other hand, need to make an impression. Now, my fiancé is very good with his mouth, I make sure he gets lots of practice, but I expect you to do even better," With that she slowly opened her legs. She was always impeccably turned out, her hair always just so and her make up painstakingly applied, and so it was a shock when she revealed her sex. A single faint line of dark hair ran from her navel like sand from an hour glass and it piled up into an unruly triangle of black curls which overflowed the delta and extended to her inner thighs. The first, incongruous, thought that entered my head was that she must eschew bikinis. The fact was that, on any other woman, it would have seemed unsightly but, somehow, she carried it off. There was something almost pagan about it, something forbidding, and I could feel my adrenalin pumping priming me to flee, but at the same time, for reasons I did not understand, I felt drawn to it. It was reminiscent of my encounter with Liana and that too should have been a warning but now, real or imagined, I could smell her and my tongue moved in my mouth. I cannot remember crossing the room. At one moment I was standing, frozen in indecision, the next I was on my knees between her legs. The room was so quiet that I could tell that she was holding her breath and I was convinced, at that moment, that she had not believed that I could be brought to do it. It no longer mattered. I was wreathed in a now familiar stillness, hemmed in by her thighs, and centred on the magnificence of her sex. Almost reverentially I moved closer and I began to ruffle her with my nose delighting in the softness of her curls. They were faintly scented with a honey based soap but as I burrowed deeper they released a familiar musky odour. I closed my eyes and breathed it in; then I could wait no longer. I put out my tongue and began to explore the undergrowth. I expected her sex to be brazen but it was deeply hidden, a reward for finding the way through to the grotto. At first touch it was a little dry but now that she knew that there was no turning back the tension eased and the wetness of my saliva was soon tinged by an earthy tang. I licked slowly, teasing her labia into life, and I could feel them swelling under my tongue. "Yes!...do it slowly." I knew what she wanted. Men do it quickly, using their tongue to provide a quasi fuck before racing on to the main event. I was on a voyage of discovery. I spent time surveying the contours of the fleshy uplands and was pleased when her body stiffened with initial waves of pleasure. I then ventured onto the lower slopes moving carefully over this more sensitive range. "Oh God!...Don't stop!" It became hotter between her legs as her excitement grew and I knew where to quench my thirst, but not just yet. I skimmed over her inner labia, threatening to withdraw my tongue altogether, only to swoop once more. I felt a mischievous, but guilty sense of pride in taking her to places she had never been before. I sensed that she could orgasm from this stimulation alone but she was desperately holding back knowing that, if only she could hold on, the best was yet to come. "Oh you sweet little bitch..." For long minutes I teased her lips, which were exuding dew like leaves in spring, and my evident delight as I swallowed it down only served to string her tighter. Her sex was now as open as it could be without further aid and I began the final descent to where a creamy line marked the valley floor. I scooped it up in one greedy lick and she shivered with excitement but now I had to have more. With a murmur of pleasure I speared my tongue inside her and began to swab the walls of the tight tunnel. She could take no more. She placed her hands on her inner thighs pulling herself wider and encouraging me to go deep, We remained there, fused together, and finally it was my panted breath alone which took her over the edge. She literally cried tears of joy as the pleasure exploded inside her and then rushed to every extremity causing her to stretch her limbs ecstatically. When it was over there was an awkward silence but then she slid her chair under her desk and became very businesslike. "You had better go. We'll talk about this later." I wanted to talk about it immediately but I did not trust myself not to say something untoward. Instead, I gathered myself as best I could and left the room. It was only as I opened that door that I spared a thought for Nadine's secretary. None of the other lecturers on campus retained secretaries but Nadine obviously felt that it added to her authority. Michelle, was a brash, eighteen year old, blonde that she had picked cheaply via a government job placement scheme. I guessed that I looked a complete mess. My hair was damp with perspiration and my make up must have been shot to hell. I had not even bothered to rearrange my clothing. Thinking quickly, I put my face in my hands and pretended to sob as I dashed down the short corridor that doubled as her office. She could make of it what she would. I went back to my office and fixed myself up as best I could then, for the first time in my career, I skipped a lecture. I phoned the administration office and pleaded a migraine before grabbing my jacket and dashing out into the park. I went to my favourite bench at the end of the lake and for a few moments I wept quietly. After I while I pulled myself together and began to try to make sense of what was happening to me. My life had seemed so ordinary, so well planned, but now, in the space of a few weeks, I had gone down on two straight women, one of whom I almost despised, and I had been involved in a bizarre lesbian orgy. It was clear that Liana formed a link between the first two incidents and it was possible that the third was just coincidental but I sensed a more sinister influence. Amongst all of the praise that my article had garnered there had been some correspondence which had vilified my conclusions and I wondered if there was a connection but those who had been the most vitriolic had not given addresses. The problem was that no amount of speculation could disguise the fact that, to some degree, I had made myself a willing participant and that was the most frightening thing of all. We all feel that we know ourselves so well, and I could bring to my own observation my perspective as a psychologist, but it seemed I hardly knew myself at all. The following morning I decided to confront Nadine. My paper, and the well publicized award, had imbued the faculty with a lot of kudos and, now that I had had time to reflect on it, I was willing to bet that she would not want to rock the boat. She might be envious but she was also basking in reflected glory. I walked passed Michelle, refusing to catch her eye, and bid her a cursory good morning as I walked into the office. There was something different and it took a second or two to register what it was. The armchairs had been pushed back against the wall and now, beneath the window, there stood a classic psychiatrists couch. I knew that she had studied psychiatry before finally majoring in psychology but it still seemed to be something of an affectation. She followed my gaze and walked across to the couch where she lovingly stroked the antique leather. "Do you like it? It cost me a small fortune." "I'm sure it's very nice but I did not come here to discuss furniture." She remained unfazed by my curt tone as she gracefully took up a reclining position on the couch with her back raised. "That's a great pity because I bought it with you in mind" She was wearing a black bolero jacket over a matching calf length skirt with buttons right down the front. Holding my eye she slowly drew up her legs and she began to undo them. "Nadine, we need to have a serious talk." She had more than half the buttons undone before she replied. "Do you like stockings?" Under the circumstances the question was entirely inappropriate but I could not formulate a reply. The skirt had fallen open to form a drape around the couch and I was left staring at a vision of darkness. In addition to her jacket and skirt she was wearing a midnight blue blouse and, as I could now see, black stockings with matching suspenders. She kept herself in impressive shape. I knew that she used the gym every day and watched her diet carefully and, at that moment, I could have been looking at the body of a twenty-five year old. The problem was that she knew that as well as I. Not only did she maintain her body she knew how to flaunt it. She had supreme self confidence and she exuded it When in comes to art I count myself almost an aesthete and for the space of a few seconds I just stood and admired her. Almost inevitably my eyes were drawn to the tops of her thighs the creamy splendour of which was exaggerated by the dark background of the canvas. She could see exactly where my eyes were fixed and, with a knowing smile, she cast her web. "Come and lick them." I was pulled towards her in much the same way that I was upon seeing my first Henry Moore sculpture and, as then, I began to run my hand over the perfect contours. "Use your tongue." I moved around her slowly and leant in between the deep vee of her legs to place a delicate kiss on her inner thigh just above the band of her stocking. Her legs were perfectly depilated and felt almost unnaturally smooth. They were also deliciously warm and I began to lick slowly towards the slight declivity at the top of her leg. I paused for a moment, licking in a lazy circle, and she gave a loud hum of appreciation. I was now half kneeling on the couch and I turned my attention to her other thigh tracing the same languid path from her stocking top to the border of her panties. They were a diaphanous shade of grey but made dark by the cushioning of her abundant curls and, even as I watched, a pool of even greater darkness spread slowly outwards permeating the air with her rich scent. I reached towards her wanting to peel the damp silky material away from her ripe sex but she gently pushed my hand away. "No, just lick." I knew exactly what she wanted and, in past life, I would have considered it outrageous but now, devotedly, I began to work my tongue over the crotch of her panties. Her pubis felt deliciously spongy and as the material became wet with my saliva I began to taste her juices in an erotic osmosis. She was leaking copiously and, with a frenzied craving, I began to suck at her noisily. "Oh you filthy little bitch." Her taunting and laughter only increased the madness and when she finally condescended to pull the gusset of her panties to one side I fell upon her like a ravening beast. I was conscious of her looking down at me, as I surrendered to my carnal instincts, and I felt like a curious laboratory specimen but there was no way that I could stop myself. I worked my tongue deep inside her as she relaxed into a powerful drawn out orgasm. I was breathing heavily and I knew that my face was red with embarrassment but I suddenly felt a desperate need to get away from her. I started to rise but she quickly put her hand on my head. "Not so fast. You're not finished yet. Take them off." She brought her legs together so that I could remove her panties altogether and my instinct was to tell her to go to hell but when I looked into her eyes I felt completely cowed. It just seemed easier to do as she asked and, having made that decision, it was as though a weight had been lifted from me. I eased her, now sodden, panties down her legs and let them fall to the floor and, as I did so, she opened her legs once more. She parted her labia and pointed with her middle finger. "Nice and slowly...just here." There, nestled deep amongst the curls, lay her clitoris already stretched free of its cloak. It was a deeper pink than the bed in which it lay and it almost seemed to pulse with expectation. After a momentary hesitation I bowed to my task. As I grazed my tongue over the smooth bulb of flesh I felt my cheeks and nose tickled by her sleek, wet, hairs but I felt, in some way, secure as if I could use them to hide from the world. I lost all sense of time, content simply to bring her the pleasure she demanded, but by the time she finally reached a second, more leisurely orgasm, my neck and back ached terribly. Once more, I made to rise, but she held me in check. "Clean me up..." I felt an odd sense of guilt. Why had I waited to be asked? I began to like groom her pubis with my tongue not stopping until the taste was clean. Finally, she rose dismissively from the couch and began to fasten the buttons of her skirt. I was bending to straighten my own skirt when she pushed her sopping panties down into the front of my vee necked jumper. "A little souvenir." She laughed as I rooted them out and dropped them to the floor in disgust but some traitorous part of me almost made me bend to retrieve them. This final confirmation of my depravity frightened me more than anything and I fled from the room not stopping until I reached the sanctuary of the washroom. Chapter 4 In the following two weeks I began to fear for my sanity. Nadine would pick up the phone and I would come running. There was no reciprocity; she would simply lounge on the couch and I would serve. Not once in our encounters did she completely undress. She would remove her skirt and underwear to give me access and it felt as if I was not worthy enough to appreciate the rest of her body. We were both experts in matters of the mind but I even felt intellectually undermined. What I was doing could not be considered rational behaviour and it worried me that she had somehow found her way to my inner psyche. I would leave her room in tears but invariably with my own panties wet with excitement. The problem was that I could not bring myself to masturbate and thus ease my frustration. I was concerned that if I even began to make the association between my deviant conduct and my own sexual relief there would be no way back. I found myself phoning Daniel almost every evening and he realized that something was amiss but it was not an issue that I could, or would, want to discuss with him. He even volunteered to fly over but I knew that it was out of a sense of exasperation. I assured him that everything was fine and we would stick with my scheduled visit to the States the following month. The breaking point came one morning. The ringing of the phone startled me but, as it was wont to do nowadays, it set off a Pavlovian surge of excitement. Nadine no longer bothered to keep up the pretence. "Come along right now. I need a little relief." When I arrived at her office she was still seated at her desk. I stood, expecting her to make her way to the couch, feeling a frisson of excitement as I waited to see if she had already removed her skirt, "Come here. I'm a little pushed for time this morning. You can get on with it whilst I work." I moved slowly around the desk to find that she was wearing the buttoned skirt again and it was already unfastened and peeled away from her legs. Her condescending tone had irritated me but my eyes were, by now, fixed at the juncture of her thighs. I started to go down to my knees but she shifted a little further back from her desk and I finally understood. The suggestion was as outrageous as it was demeaning but, nevertheless, I felt a moist warmth between my own legs. No more words were needed. I sacrificed the remainder of my pride and crawled under the desk. The modesty board and the seasoned oak made it a dark, closed, space and, as she wheeled herself back into place her skirt acted as a curtain shutting out the light. Within seconds my tiny cell was pervaded by her scent, giving the lie to her feigned indifference, and I did not have to move far to set about my appointed task. Above me I heard the shuffling of papers and the occasional scratch of her pen but this only incited me to get her to show some reaction. It became an unspoken battle of wills but, after what felt like half an hour, I felt myself clamped by her knees as she finally went into melt down. It was a small success but she soon put me back in my place. Almost as soon as it was over she made me start again and, notwithstanding her suggestion that time was short, she kept me there through a second and third orgasm. I do not know how long I was confined but, by the finish, my whole body was wet with perspiration. Even the air around me felt hot and every breath that I took was impregnated with her smell. My back ached and, once or twice, I banged my head as it went into spasm. When she finally let me go I had trouble straightening up and she laughed as I slunk from the room. I had reached my nadir and something had to be done. I even contemplated a change of university but when Daniel finally came to settle in the UK I knew that he would not want to be based outside of London. In the end it was simple. All I had to do was refuse. I no longer feared blackmail and Nadine had had no need to threaten me; from her point of view I had willingly become her oral whore. The next morning I ignored the phone when it rang. A little later, when it rang again, I gave a peremptory reply saying that I was busy. After that I was fearful. If she came for me I was not sure I could trust myself. I just needed to get through the day and then the next day was sure to be easier. I had some essays to mark and, gathering them together, I made my way to my sanctuary. In the basement the University maintained what it chose to call a museum. In reality it was a rarely visited depository which was used to store the various bequests bestowed on the faculty. For the most part it comprised an uncatalogued trove of books and research papers but there were also oddities like a writing desk that had belonged to Hans Eysenck and a consulting couch used by Sigmund Freud. My particular favourite was one of the pieces which had found its way from the infamous Bethlehem Lunatic Asylum or "Bedlam" as it was known to the poor souls incarcerated within its forbidding walls. It was a heavily padded chair which would not have looked out of place in a dentist's surgery. I would often come down during my lunch hour and cat nap in it for ten minutes without fear of disturbance. I had barely made a start on the papers before I felt my eyelids drooping and I decided to rest my eyes for a few minutes. I lazed back in the chair and lulled by the gentle hum of basement machinery pumping air, heat and water through the arteries of the building I must have fallen asleep altogether. I awoke with a start and for a second or two I could not remember where I was but then I pulled myself together. "Hello sleepyhead." A Psychological Turn of Mind "Michelle? What are you doing here?" As soon as I realized that Nadine's secretary was standing next to me I tried to sit up but I found that I could not move my arms and legs. "She sends me down here. There's bugger all to do upstairs and she tells me to come down here and make lists." The chair in which I was sitting was fitted with well worn leather straps and she had buckled them tight over my wrists and ankles. "Michelle, I don't know what you're playing at but I want you to release me right now." "All in good time. You see, I know what you do...with her." The fact was that Nadine had been less than discrete and there was a strong possibility that Michelle had heard her in the throes of passion. My only chance was to bluff it out. "I hope that you're not suggesting that you've been listening in to private conversations. The university takes a very strong line on confidentiality. It could be a dismissal offence." "Do you really think I give a shit about this job? It pays fuck all to be bored rigid for eight hours a day. I don't need it." Her vitriolic tone shocked me and I was momentarily lost for words but I soon found my tongue when she became to adjust the chair. "What are you doing!?" At a touch of a lever the chair began to move on smooth hydraulics until it had transformed itself into a flat bench with me fastened securely to it. "Michelle, that's enough! Let me go this minute!" She ignored my completely and, as I watched in horror, she started to undress. "I've always wondered what it would be like, with another girl, and from what I've heard you are just the woman for the job." Having taken off her tee shirt and jeans she now stood in just her chain store underwear which she shed with no hint of embarrassment. I could see that she had a good body, not exceptional but still with a youthful tone. Her skin was very pale and her modest breasts were capped with pale pink nipples which were almost difficult to discern. What made them startling were the two silver bars with which they were pierced. I have never liked body modification, especially on young girls, but Michelle was clearly a fan. She had a number of tattoos the most prominent of which was a wreath of ivy on her left shoulder a single strand of which trailed all the way down to her breast. She came back to the bench and pulled another lever which had the effect of moving the bench slightly out of the horizontal plane lowering my head and raising my feet "Michelle, you are in serious trouble. Now if you'll undo me and get yourself dressed we need not say anything more about it." "Seems to me that you're in no position to tell me what to do." The bench narrowed towards the top so that my head was supported by a padded headrest and she now proceeded to step over it so that she was straddling my face. She looked down at me with a smirk and then I lost my temper completely. "If you dare to try anything I will bite you so hard you'll need stitches." "Well that's a great pity." Much to my amazement she lifted herself and walked away but I felt uneasy when she crossed to one of the cabinets which held other Bethlehem exhibits. She returned holding something that looked like a spare tyre for a model car and, as I watched she squeezed it between her fingers distorting it into an oval shape. I now realized what it was but I was too late. In a single movement she pinched my cheeks painfully between her thumb and fingers, forcing my jaws apart, and by the time I had recovered enough to try and close my mouth she had forced the device between my teeth. The foul tasting rubber had a channel running around the circumference and my teeth sank into it. I could neither open my mouth wide enough to expel it nor could I close my mouth altogether. "Neat, don't you think? One way of making sure the loonies took their medicine and you're sure as hell going to take yours. I shook my head frantically from side to side, as she stood and laughed, but it would not be budged. When I eventually quietened down she came and settled over me once more. I tried swearing but could only produce a dribbling incoherence but I was determined that I was no going to cooperate. She shifted slightly so that I could see her sex hovering over me. It was covered with an uneven growth of blonde hair as if she had unsuccessfully tried to shave in a design. Above that was another small tattoo. It was downward pointing arrow and only someone close enough to be intimate would have been able to read the surrounding Celtic style script which simply said 'Gates of Paradise'. I had no time to ponder this conceit as she lowered herself onto my mouth. In just a few seconds breathing became difficult and, feeling the onset of claustrophobia, I drew in such air as I could through my nose. "I want to feel your tongue." She wriggled on my face a little to reinforce the point but I still steadfastly refused. "Okay, it's your choice." With that she reached down and pinched my nostrils closed. In a panic I tried to take a breath through my mouth but almost choked on a mixture of rubbery saliva and a taste now very familiar to me. She did not relent. She stayed in place as my body convulsed and in a silent scream for mercy I speared my tongue through the rings' opening. She immediately released my nose and even lifted herself for a moment to let me fill my lungs but she quickly settled once more. It was a battle I could not win. I knew that she would not deliberately cause me any permanent harm but I was worried about what she might do inadvertently. I accepted my fate and put out my tongue again engaging with her labia. The ring did not allow for a great degree of penetration and so she moved her sex over the opening directing my tongue exactly where she wanted it. It was an odd sensation. At the edge of my tongue I could taste the smooth bitter rubber whilst at the tip I could taste her growing arousal which was so much the sweeter by contrast. She was in no hurry. She moved over me like a slow moving belly dancer presenting her labia and, every now and again, her clitoris which seemed to have grown a tiny bit more each time I was allowed to lick it. She was a hot young woman and I was soon perspiring within the enclosure of her thighs which were themselves glistening. Every now and again I involuntarily tugged against my bonds and had to fight down a growing sense of panic but each time I managed to get a grip and continue. Above me I could see that she had taken hold of her nipple piercings and appeared to be pulling at them almost painfully and I hoped that this was an indication that she was getting close. I was not wrong. She centred her clitoris over the opening and settled her weight more heavily on my face. As she grew ever more excited her pubic bone pressed against my nose, threatening my breathing once more, and I licked crazily to bring her to a finish. When she came her hips jerked powerfully, and I was grateful for the bench's padding, which helped to take the strain, but then she came to a complete stop as she tried to get her breath. I twisted my head and grunted making clear my distress and she finally found the strength to lift herself up. I waited for her to release me but she walked across the room and then came back with a bottle of mineral water. As she stood gulping it down I was made aware of my own thirst and the fact that my mouth was still filled with the acrid taste of rubber. She had almost finished the bottle when she finally relented and poured the remainder slowly through the opening in the ring. With my head down I almost choked on it but I managed to get a couple of swallows. "Good girl...get yourself ready." I barely had time to take in the implication before she straddled my face once more. I screamed in frustration and shook my head but there was nothing I could do. She used her thighs to keep me still and then sealed the opening. Fortunately, she had not quite come down from her previous high and so it did not take nearly so long to bring her off and, at the finish, she took things into her own hands. As before she let me take her weight but she worked her clitoris with her finger and, as she came, she spurted through the opening deep into the back of my throat. She was still recovering when, without warning, she leapt up. "I taut I heard sum noise." The unmistakable voice, with its West Indian patois, belonged to Bernadette a member of the catering staff. She had obviously been using the kitchen store room which was situated next to the museum. Michelle was scrambling to get dressed whilst Bernie suddenly loomed over me. Everyone on campus knew her; a larger than life Jamaican who was never without a smile and she had quite the finest set of brilliantly white teeth that I had ever seen. I must have looked a state and for a second or two she struggled to recognize me. Once she did I breathed a sigh of relief. Not only would I be freed but I now had a witness to Michelle's assault. It was a shock, therefore, when she spoke once more. "You de bitch that tryin' to get me sacked." I shook my head in frantic denial. A couple of months previously the student body had decided to start a healthy eating campaign. They had formed a committee to which I had very reluctantly been seconded to represent the faculty. Unlike other lecturers I did not even use the refectory but, nevertheless, I had drawn the short straw. The campaign was well meaning but, not unnaturally, the catering staff felt that they were being targeted. "Seems you got your own way of eatin' 'ealty" Michelle, now a little more composed, came back into view straightening her tee shirt. "Oh, she is good at eating " "Me man don't do dat for me; 'im tink it unmanly." "Well be my guest. She isn't going to complain." I began to struggle hysterically making as much noise as I could. If Bernie had heard what was going on then there was a chance that someone else might be near. "Me do dat, she get me sacked for sure." "Well if you know that I wasn't here and I know that you weren't here, what's to believe?" I could almost hear her thoughts as she pondered the situation. Then she turned to Michelle. "Get de door. We not wantin' to be disturbed." Michelle padded off gleefully to lock the door as Bernie reached under her skirt to remove her panties. I felt sick with fear. I would guess that Bernie was about thirty but she was a very heavy set woman. She had large breasts and an even larger backside but, like her many of her countrywomen, she counted it as a desirable asset. "Ain't dis de damnedest ting." She was looking down at the ring in my mouth and inquisitively poked a meaty finger through it. I tried pleading with my eyes but there was a brightness in hers that told me that she was not going to be denied. "Wassup girl? You ain't never had no black pussy?" As she said it she raised the hem of her heavy woolen brown skirt to reveal her sex. She had thick thighs and a mound to match. It was a pronounced hillock covered with a tight mat of black curls and quite the longest slit I had ever seen. She could not step over me in the same way as Michelle had and so she resorted to standing by my head and then lumbering backwards. I was immediately enveloped in the smell of fatty food, with which her skirt was impregnated, and it was hard not to gag. Fortunately, she was tall enough to stand proud of my face and she had only to relax her legs slightly to nestle into place. As she did so she flipped her skirt over my head depriving me of light and her thighs pressed against the side of my face like plump, warm, cushions. With the darkness came a stillness in which I could hear my own measured breathing through dilated nostrils. It was dreadfully hot and I was all too aware that I had been lying for some time with my head lower than my feet but I could not communicate to them the possible danger I was in. I had no choice other than to get it over and done with as soon as possible. Once again, I pushed my weary tongue through the ring but found that I was only licking curls. Somewhere, a million miles away, I heard a muffled whoop at this first contact and it was a little while before she shifted fractionally so that I could lick her slit. I feared her taste but, but to begin with, my mouth burned with the astringent tang of soap. As I pushed a little deeper, and she became more excited, I found that it was little different to the other women that I had attended upon. The problem was that, as I presented my tongue and she moved over me, her scratchy pubis was making me very sore and I began to understand her husband's misgivings. Finally, after another round of distant laughter, she moved to present her clitoris which to my numbed senses seemed unnaturally large. Fortunately, it also seemed incredibly sensitive. I no sooner started licking than she began to exude a richer essence which filled the tented enclosure of her skirt with an animal aroma. She had remained almost still up to that moment but now she began to move and then, unexpectedly, she raised her skirt to reveal her sweating face. "Go girl!" She looked almost manic and, fearfully, I began to lick more quickly. In response she dropped her skirt again and then my tongue was forgotten. She began to ride my face, sliding her sopping sex down over my chin and up to my forehead. It was a brutal, pumping, rhythm and I thought my nose would break. Whether by accident or design, when she finally reached a climax, she came to rest over my mouth and I was forced to swallow what little moisture she had left to give. She raised her skirt again and, finally catching her breath, she laughed. "I got to get me some more o' dat." My throat constricted with panic but, without another word, she levered herself off of me and began to put her voluminous panties back on. Once dressed, she walked to the door and turned back to Michelle. "Remember girl, we got a deal." Michelle watched her leave and then, two minutes later, she unbuckled my wrist and fled the room. Chapter 5 After she had gone I released myself but not without effort; having done so I quickly collected my car and drove home. My immediate reaction was to call the police. After removing the ring from my mouth I could barely move my jaw and my nose felt flattened but, after a long shower, the only visible damage was my slightly swollen lips and even they returned to normal within an hour. The problem was that no one would believe me. It was an extraordinary claim and if my two assailants were going to corroborate an alibi how would it look? The only good thing to come out of it was that it provided the jolt I needed. I loved teaching but I could not go back. I had plenty of contacts in the commercial sector and I had often entertained the possibility of setting up in private practice. Better still, I had no need to rush into a decision. When my mother and father died they left my sister and I well provided for and I could survive without the immediate prospect of an income. Thoughts of my sister dragged up old feelings of guilt. We had been very close right up until university. My parents had fully funded my degree in psychology but they were less generous with Estelle. My father, in particular, regarded her degree in Interior Design as a soft option. I felt very sorry for her but things got worse. After their tragic deaths the estate was, on the face of it, divided evenly between the two of us but it became clear that the little things, the photographs and other bits of family history were bequeathed to me suggesting that they wanted me to be the torch bearer. I knew that Estelle felt aggrieved and I offered her any or all of it but the damage had been done. She got her degree and set up in business on the south coast. Over time she became very successful. She began to be in demand by celebrities and I felt a swell of pride whenever I saw a magazine photo shoot of her designs and the fact was, they were appearing more and more often. Over time we became close once more but our respective locations meant that we did not meet as frequently as we would have liked In the next few days things happened quickly. I tendered my resignation and said that I would forego my salary in lieu of notice. Almost immediately I received an e-mail from Nadine pleading with me to reconsider. I think she suddenly appreciated what my loss would mean in professional terms, not least a lot more work for her, and she said she wanted things back the way they were. I presumed that she wanted our sordid relationship to be forgotten. Shortly afterwards I was visited by the Dean of the University. He too was desperate for me to reconsider, and he almost had me convinced, but, now that the decision was made, I was looking forward to a fresh start. Then, finally, I received a phone call from Estelle. My birthday was coming up and I had been sad that I could not spend it with Daniel but she invited me down for a celebratory meal and promised a surprise. The venue was a Thai restaurant and, when I arrived, Estelle was sitting with another woman at a table set for five. The décor was stunning but so was our dining companion. She was a tall, elegant, blonde with almost hypnotic blue eyes and I put her in her mid twenties. I thought that she had to be a model of some sort but Estelle introduced her as Alex. Estelle had mentioned Alex during our telephone conversations. She was a fellow designer and Estelle had spoken of a possible business partnership. There was wine already on the table and I accepted a glass whilst we waited for the other guests to arrive. Any preconceptions I may have had of Alex being an airhead were quickly dispelled not least when I was told that the décor on which I had lavished such praise was her work. After ten minutes or so Estelle got up to greet another guest. I had my back to the door and so had to turn in my seat. As I did so I dropped my glass to the floor. Standing there, as large as life, and now hugging my sister was Liana. Whilst the waiter cleared up Estelle made introductions but Liana acted as if we had never met. For the next few minutes I sat unnerved as Estelle explained that she and Liana were good friends who had liaised on a number of projects. My mind was in turmoil. I could not understand why Estelle had invited me to a birthday celebration with women she believed I did not know and a further hammer blow to my sanity arrived in the shape of our final guest. Sneaking up behind me, with a huge hug and a kiss, came Daniel. I was so shocked that I could not find words. I barely comprehended as he explained that Estelle had pleaded with him to make the trip to complete the surprise. Wine flowed and the meal, concluding with a birthday cake, came and went but I could still not quite get a grip on reality. All the women warmed to Daniel with his natural charm and rugged good looks but I just wanted a few minutes alone with him so I could take a reality check. I established that he was staying in a local hotel and, possibly fueled by a little jealousy at his effect on the others, my thoughts turned libidinous; Estelle, though, had other ideas. She insisted that we carried on the party at her apartment and, whilst I gently tried to turn down the offer, Daniel insisted we went. I realized then that he and I had done most of the drinking and that the others were in better shape. We squeezed into Estelle's car with me sitting up front and Daniel somehow winding up as the meat in the sandwich between Liana and Alex. Estelle's apartment was new and I had yet to see it but once inside I found that it was a true measure of her success. It was a huge glass walled penthouse space with magnificent views southwards over the town to the sea and northwards to the gently rolling downs.