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A Train of Events

By: krr1957



This story deals with themes of reluctance and coercion in a lesbian setting. If you think that such material might be offensive to you please look for another story.

*****

Chapter One

The later than normal train had the benefit of some spare seats and I was glad of the opportunity to stare vacantly out of the window. My visit to the doctor that morning had taken a completely unexpected turn and I was still trying to come to terms with it.

Having just hit thirty-five I thought that I needed to pay more attention to my health and so I had booked myself in for a general check-up. My regular doctor had just retired, having looked after me for most of my adult life, and this was my first appointment with Dr. Addison.

She looked as if she was just out of medical school but she was totally proficient and quickly put me at ease. I exercise regularly, eat reasonably well and know that some consider me beautiful and so I was not altogether surprised when she congratulated me on my general well-being. 

It was when she began to address more personal issues that I became less comfortable. I told her that I was slightly stressed at work on occasion and that I was happy living alone. She asked if I had a regular partner to which the answer was no.

She then proceeded to lecture me on the virtues of safe sex and I felt mildly affronted telling her that I had no great interest. This was true to a degree. I found men attractive, and harboured vague thoughts of motherhood eventually, but I seemed to be missing the spark of arousal.

She asked me straight out if I masturbated, which took me aback, but I answered truthfully and told her that I enjoyed it.

It was then that she broached the possibility that I might be asexual and explained that there was a lot of new research into the idea that a percentage of the population, both male and female, had no interest in sex.

As I continued to take in the passing view I wondered if it was true of me and, if so, whether or not that made me deficient in some way. I would not confess to her, or anybody else for that matter, that I made use of pornography to fuel my private fantasies and that, surely, confounded her argument.

The train pulled into the next station and the platform canopy shaded the sun. I refocused on the window picking up the reflected image of my fellow passengers. My eyes were taken by a young woman engrossed with her phone. For a split second I thought that she was not wearing a skirt but then saw that, with her legs crossed, it had ridden up to expose her thigh.

My instinct was to turn around to cast a surreptitious glance and see her for real but I held fast and tried to place her within the carriage. She was sitting opposite in the next bank of seats.

The reflection was imperfect but I could make out enough to see that she was a very attractive blonde and I put her age somewhere between seventeen and twenty. It amused me to be able to look at her without her being aware of my attention.

She was wearing a name badge and so I was guessing that she was one of the many medical students who used the service. This was borne out as she remained on the train giving me further opportunity to stare.

It was mischievous but I figured that there was no harm done. It did, however, set me to thinking about how I would react if I thought that someone was checking me out in such a devious manner.

As we pulled into the terminus I gathered myself and shuffled off the train only to find myself following her along the platform. I wondered if my guess about her had been wrong. She had long legs shown off to devastating effect by her abbreviated hemline and it hardly seemed an appropriate manner of dress for a health professional.

As the sunlight caught her I found myself trying to make out whether or not she was wearing a bra. From behind there was no evidence of it and I was now intrigued as to what her job might be.

At the barriers we went our separate ways, her to the bus stand, me to the underground, and I gave her no further thought during the course of a very busy day.

That evening I ran myself a hot bath, and relaxed with a copy of Vogue. Afterwards I sat up in bed finishing the magazine when I reached an article on fashion trends in Denmark. The model featured in the photo shoot looked not dissimilar to the girl on the train and, almost without being aware of it, my fingers idled between my legs.

In recent months I had found myself gravitating towards lesbian themed pornography. I needed something more than just pneumatic coupling, something a little more believable, and lesbian scenes, particularly those directed by women, at least gave the impression that the participants might just be genuinely enjoying themselves.

Now, without being entirely sure why, I tried to conjure an image of a desirable man as my fingers worked more purposefully. My new contact at Phelps fitted the bill. He was not the sharpest tool in the box but he was undeniably handsome and possessed of a certain naïve charm.

The problem was that I could not stay focused and my mind kept wandering back to my journey that morning. In my mind's eye I was still watching the girl's reflection but, this time, my fingers were brazenly at work much as they were now.

The thought of doing it in public was a novelty and I found it exciting. Normally, I take a very leisurely approach but, spurred by this hint of deviance, I rubbed myself more purposefully.

Seconds later I was lifting my hips from the bed and, twisting my wrist, I pushed two fingers deep inside.

I was stunned by how hot and wet I was and I worked myself furiously. I could usually control the onset of my climax but this time it remained frustratingly out of reach as though urging me on to greater effort.

My hand ached with the exertion and I was groaning loudly which is something I never do. Then, in a moment of frightening clarity I saw the girl's face as if she was in the same room. She smiled and gently touched my cheek.

"Come for me..."

My orgasm was so intense as to be almost painful. It rolled on and on and the contractions crushed my fingers but I did not want it to end. I felt almost delirious as my whole body hummed with the force of it but, at the finish, I could take no more and I collapsed on the bed, breathing hard, my skin sheened in perspiration.

Some while later, as I tried to come to terms with this aberration, I gingerly touched my sex still barely believing that it had happened and what had finally triggered it. Almost unconsciously the touch became a caress and I began to bear myself up once more.

This time it was more familiar. It was slow and controlled but it still had echoes of what had gone before. I teased myself for as long as I could and then surrendered to a prolonged release which left me with tears of pleasure in my eyes.

I slept deeply and more contently than I had for some time. Unfortunately, it meant that for the second day running I was going to be late into the office. Normally, I would go to the front of the train to beat the rush on disembarkation but today I stood in the middle of the platform putting myself where I had been the previous day when I only just caught it.

I could not believe how hard my heart was pounding when, two stations later, I peered out of the window wondering if she was going to be there. As the train slowed I felt an unnerving sense of elation when I saw her once again. She was obviously a creature of habit as not only had she opted for the same carriage but she was once again occupied with her phone.

She was wearing another short skirt and tee shirt combination and, as she stood caught in sunlight, I realized why she seemed somehow familiar.

I rarely watch television but one of my guilty pleasures is the show 'Friday Nights Lights' which some American friends of mine had steered me towards during a recent trip to California.

This young woman was like a petite version of the actress Adrianne Palicki who played one of my favourite characters in the series.

As she boarded I willed her to take the same seat so that I could use the window to my advantage but having surveyed the carriage she obviously decided that, today, the shaded side of the train would be preferable and she sat down directly opposite me.

Taken by surprise I looked up at her and she flashed me a disarming smile before settling and continuing with the game she had running on her phone. For a few seconds I was wreathed in her perfume which smelt a little expensive for everyday use.

As the train pulled out I gazed at her reflection and smiled inwardly as I concluded that she would probably look more at home on America's west coast than on a London commuter service. It was a second or two before I realized that she had looked up absently from her phone and she was effectively returning my stare in the glass.

I felt irrationally guilty and quickly turned my head a fraction before I decided that I was being stupid and told myself to get a grip. I purposefully took my Kindle out of my handbag and tried to engage with my current novel.

The reader had a leather case and I held it in my lap in the manner of a traditional book.

The problem was that this allowed me to take furtive glances at her bare legs. She had them crossed, as before, and they seemed to go on forever.

It was insane. I read but took absolutely nothing in. I just kept on looking at her wondering how she kept them so smooth. There was no way she could know where my eyes were fixed but, as if reading my mind, she languidly unfolded her legs and sat with them fractionally parted.

I immediately felt a prickly discomfort across my skin and, in a perverted twist of thought, I wondered what sort of underwear she had chosen.

I almost admonished myself out loud as I fidgeted a little and desperately tried to focus hoping that other passengers might get on and reaffirm some sense of normality.

In the event no one else joined the carriage save two mothers with children who moved to the opposite end. I was still alone with her and an unwelcomed recollection of my fantasy the night before came to my mind.

Almost without thought I brushed my little finger over the tight crotch of my jeans concealed by my book. The resulting frisson made me shiver and I sensed her looking across at me.

I kept my head down and breathed deeply but, to my acute embarrassment, I could feel myself seeping. The urge to touch myself again was almost irresistible and, to compound my discomfort, she shifted slightly in her seat parting her legs a fraction more.

I considered going to the lavatory but we were not too far from our destination and I decided to sit tight. Over the next ten minutes I spent almost the entire time staring at her legs wondering what the hell had come over me.

As the train slowed to a halt I put away my book and looked up at her. She smiled at me and, perhaps I imagined it, but I thought I caught a knowing glint in her eye. I quickly looked away but not before noting her name tag. She was, indeed, employed at the hospital and her name was Bryony Bainbridge.

I was still flustered when I arrived at the office. I grabbed my working attire from my locker and went into the ladies. I stripped out of my jeans and was aghast at just how damp my panties were. Fortunately, I kept a couple of spare pairs in my locker but, as I stood there, naked from the waist down someone entered the adjacent stall. I heard a rustle of clothing and it became apparent that the occupant was using the space as a changing room in the same way I was.

I wondered who it might be and began to conjure images of one or two of my colleagues standing naked just three feet away separated only by a thin wood partition.

In the next moment I brought my fingers to my sex and began to rub myself. I was already wet and had to suppress a whimper of gratification. I had never done anything like this before and it was almost as if I had become another person. 

The woman finished up but then spent some while at the mirror outside. I was willing her to leave as the need to complete what I had started was almost overwhelming. My fingers were still busy and, breathing fast, I knew that I could not trust myself not to cry out. 

I heard the spritz of a perfume spray followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. The scent left hanging in the air was that used by Grace, one of our young receptionists, and that knowledge somehow tripped me over the edge.

The force of my climax buckled my legs and I slumped awkwardly onto the toilet seat as the ebbing waves of pleasure made my body twitch and left me murmuring with my lips tightly closed.

Sanity once again prevailed and I set about tidying myself up. A shower had recently been installed to accommodate the growing number of staff who cycled into work and I now made use of it. I sluiced myself down and washed my hands guiltily like a latter day Lady Macbeth.

Chapter Two

In the ensuing days I threw myself into my work. I resumed my early morning commute where cramped, overheated, carriages were enough to negate any libidinous thoughts and, after a regular week, I felt that my uncharacteristic behaviour could be put down as a one-off never to be repeated.

They say that hubris will always find you out and the truth of this was revealed to me just two days later. I work long hours, and travel home late, and it is a real pain when there are problems with the rail network.

The unusual number of people on the concourse suggested the worse and, sure enough, the service was suspended due to signalling problems. I joined a throng of people around a harassed railway official who thought it would be at least an hour before the problem was remedied.

I had alternative routes but, at this hour, they were few and far between and there was not much to be gained. I looked back up at the board and whispered under my breath.

"Shit..."

"Touché"

I turned to see who had spoken and recognized a woman that I often saw on my train. She was about my age, well dressed, and carried herself with a confidence that suggested that she held down a very well paid job.

There seems to be an understanding that commuters do not talk to one another unless thrown together in adversity and this was one such occasion. She checked her watch and then sighed.

"I can't be bothered to go all around the world. I'm going to get a drink and try again later. Can I tempt you?"

For reasons I would have found hard to explain I cast my eyes down to her left hand and noted that she wore a wedding ring.

I had been a little remiss of late, not keeping in contact with my circle of friends as often as I would have liked, and perhaps it was to assuage that guilt that I said yes to her sociable invitation. She suggested the bar on the concourse so that we could keep apprised of developments.

She insisted on paying and I found a table whilst she ordered some wine. When she returned with a whole bottle I must have looked alarmed but she laughed as she put it down.

"We're big girls. We can manage three glasses each can't we?"

I immediately warmed to her, discovered that her name was Steph, and that she lived with her husband and a two year old daughter only about a mile away from me. She was easy company and we laughed as we regaled one another with stories of our commuting travails.

It was as she started to tell me about her job with a large ship broking company that I looked over her shoulder to see what was happening on the concourse. My eyes immediately lighted on the furthest table and I involuntarily caught my breath.

Sitting with another young woman was Bryony. She was more formerly dressed but looked all the more beautiful for it. She sat sideways on and so, once again, a twist of fate had set me so that I could look at her without her being aware. 

As Steph continued to speak I cast occasional glances into the distance and wondered what it was that I found so fascinating about her. I even lost the thread of what was being said to me until Steph brought me up short.

"She's beautiful isn't she?"

Steph had her back to the table and so I was left floundering wondering to whom she was referring.

"I'm sorry, who is?"

"The girl you keep looking at. I see her on the train sometimes; she makes it all seem so effortless."

I was tempted to play dumb but I decided to simply cut it short. I drained my glass.

"I guess she does. Shall we go and see what's going on?"

For a second Steph looked at me quizzically but then she quickly finished her drink and followed me out. Unfortunately, the train situation was still unresolved and when Steph started referring to her phone I thought that she was trying to get an on line update but she had other plans.

"I'm ordering a taxi. Can I offer you a lift?"

Even shared the fare was going to be outrageous but she smiled reassuringly.

"It's after nine p.m. I can charge it to the company."

It was an offer I could not refuse and ten minutes later we were seated together as the cab made its way out into the suburbs. It took nearly forty five minutes to reach our destination but the time flew by as we exchanged gossip.

We reached Steph's home first and I was suitably impressed by the large detached property. I was about to ask her about the mechanics of discharging the cab when she touched my hand.

"Do you fancy a coffee? My daughter is staying with her grandparents."

I had a lot to do at home but it seemed churlish to refuse now that she had paid for the journey. Figuring that I could walk home in fifteen minutes if needs be I said I would stay for a short while.

She led me to the house and I was taken with the minimalist décor. She left me in the living room, which looked out on to a professionally tended garden, and then returned with the coffee pot a few moments later.

In the time taken she had changed out of her business suit and now wore a loose tee shirt over a pair of baggy cotton shorts. She had also let down her hair and she immediately looked years younger.

"I hope you don't mind..."

"No, of course not, it's your home."

There was something almost gypsy-like about her. With her dark hair now framing her face her complexion looked a shade darker and cheek bones were emphasised. Her large eyes and smiling mouth would not have looked out of place on an Italian film starlet and she had the hour glass figure to match.

She sat next to me on the sofa and, as we drank coffee and continued to chat, I could not help but notice that, despite the warmth of the room, her nipples were standing proudly erect. I was just beginning to wonder when her husband would be home when she leaned forward and touched me on the knee conspiratorially.

"I have a confession. That girl, in the bar, I saw her on a late night train a few weeks ago and she was kissing another girl! I came home and had the best sex ever!"

To say I was shocked was understating the case. There was the spooky resonance with my recent experience and the feeling that, somehow, she wished me to make an admission of my own. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she further invaded my personal space.

"Have you ever been with another woman?"

Still stunned to silence I mutely shook my head in denial. In response she raised an eyebrow as if she had misjudged me but then she continued.

"You must have wondered?"

My heart was hammering in my chest and I felt the colour rising in my cheeks. My every sinew was braced to flee but I remained in stasis unable to move. She held my eyes as she moved closer still and then she touched her lips to mine.

My whole body was trembling and I felt like an awkward teenager. This was wrong on so many levels but I could not clear my mind. All rational thought was overwhelmed by the softness of her mouth and the slight sweetness of her lipstick.


A Train of Events



Her touch was light, as if threatening to retreat, and I knew that it was entirely up to me. I could pull away, and we would both laugh it off as the result of wine too quickly drunk, but I was already breathing her in.

I caressed her cheek questioningly admiring the perfection of her skin. Other women have told me that they love the feel of a man's face against theirs but, in truth, I have always shied away from that abrasive contact insisting that they be perfectly shaved.

This was something so different and, despite all of my misgivings, it felt so natural. In the end I could not say who made the first move. Our tongues gently touched, as if in a courtship ritual, and then her mouth closed over mine and we were joined as one.

She kissed so beautifully and there was something indefinably feminine about the way her tongue danced with mine, first leading and then inviting. I could have remained floating in that moment but she needed to move on.

Almost without me being aware she eased her arms out from her tee shirt and then, barely breaking our kiss, she removed it altogether.

She sealed our mouths once more but guided my hand to her naked breast. I froze, all of my uncertainties resurfacing, but she coaxed me with her tongue lulling me back into a state of detached serenity.

My senses seemed heightened as the shape and fullness of her breast was revealed to me. My thumb slowly strayed mapping out the dimpled extent of her nipple and then pausing at the rigid teat so much larger than my own.

My touch elicited a muted gasp and I brought my finger into play. My own nipples are extremely sensitive but I had never found a lover who could attune himself to my needs. Now I began to massage her nipple with a subtly I would have accorded my own and, as she whimpered softly in my mouth, I felt unbelievably aroused.

She brought her hand to the back of my head and held me close for a moment but then she relaxed a little and the message was clear. I broke the kiss and trailed the tip of my tongue down the length of her neck leading inexorably to the swell of her breasts.

Her engorged nipple was a beautiful shade of dusky pink and I gently took it between my lips.

Taking her other nipple between my fingers I began to tease and, whilst I felt sure that my attempts were clumsy, I was inordinately pleased when she groaned. Encouraged, I carried on for some time at first just using my lips and tongue but then, more boldly, nipping her with my teeth.

I felt the tension building in her and my own nipples were achingly erect. I was getting desperate for her to return the favour but she took my hand from her breast and eased it downwards.

With her hand covering mine she slipped inside the waist of her shorts and I was so shocked by the heat and wetness that I felt immobilized.

"Come upstairs..."

She drew me up slowly from the sofa and I followed almost mesmerized. She made no attempt to cover herself as she lead the way up to the bedroom which was at least twice the size of mine. It was finished with white fitted units, with very simple lines, which only pointed up the starkness of the huge bed dressed in royal blue satin.

Letting go of my hand she slid out of her shorts and stood proudly naked before me. Her body was clearly the product of healthy living and made me feel guilty about my recent lazy attitude towards diet and exercise.

That thought made me hesitate momentarily before beginning to get undressed and in that pause she settled on the bed propped by a heap of expensively upholstered cushions.

The word that immediately sprang to my mind was regal. With one knee raised she looked so assured...and desirable.

I was still hesitant but now for different reasons. I had deluded myself into thinking that this was a voyage of discovery for both of us and that either of us could say no should we feel uncomfortable. Now I was convinced that she was far more worldly than I had given her credit for; I suddenly felt like her quarry but, for some strange reason, I found it exciting.

Not recognizing this facet of my own nature and I needed time to think but she was already beckoning me towards her. I felt wound by an invisible chain as I drew closer to the bed and then I was there kneeling at her feet.

I wanted her to open her arms, to enfold and comfort me, but she simply spread her legs to either side of my body putting her sex lewdly on display.

I could smell her now. I am not sure what I expected but there was a surprising familiarity which of itself only served to increase my sense of arousal. She could see it working on me and she smiled knowing I was ensnared.

She extended her hand and, as I took it, she invited me forward but only so far. I hovered over the delta of her immaculately depilated sex where the shy fringes of her labia shone moistly with promised sweetness.

Until now I had never considered it as a thing of beauty but there was an undoubted allure that resonated deep within me. It's warm, yielding, incitement was the antithesis of the more familiar threat of thrusting masculinity.

In my own mind I was already justifying my behaviour, telling myself that this was an opportunity never likely to come my way again; it would be just this once and no one need ever know.

She gave no guidance and I wondered how she would react if I were to walk out on her but she knew me better than I knew myself.

I leant in and kissed her inner thigh and then spent a seeming age working my way upwards. Nervousness got the better of me and I skirted around until I was lavishing my attention on the plane of her stomach.

She sighed but it was a sound of contentedness and not exasperation. She knew that all she had to do was wait.

I lingered at her navel, beautifully shaped and deep set, and noted the almost invisible trail of faint hair leading the way downwards. I began to follow it, her scent growing stronger with every centimetre travelled, keenly aware that my hands were shaking.

I began to lick at the firmness of her mound where her taste was already in evidence. It was unexpectedly tart but then I caught up a single droplet as it leaked away. The sensation was startling. The rich muskiness filled my mouth and sent a shiver through my whole body.

Craving more, I tentatively ran my tongue along the exposed tips of her labia which seemed to swell in welcome. My reward was a seepage of oily nectar and I licked avidly slowly working my way deeper.

Within, she felt incredibly hot to my tongue and her excitement was made evident as she began to squeeze encouraging me to even greater effort. I could not get enough of her taste but now I tried to read her contractions and to adapt to the rhythm of her impending climax.

I was perspiring heavily but I was beyond caring. We were moving as one, her hips undulating as she worked her way to the summit.

When the moment came she put both hands to the back of my head and clasped me tightly. I struggled to breathe but I licked gamely as she began to melt in a series of barely controlled juddering convulsions.

She cried out, heedless of who might hear, and it was more a command than a request when she told me not to stop. Her climax seemed to roll on forever and with each passing minute I was getting desperate for my own turn.

When, at last, she had no more to give she released me and slumped back into the piled cushions. My face was hot and wet and I was grateful for the cooling air. By contrast she looked beatific, the only obvious evidence of her exertions was a light flush over the surface of her breasts.

Now, once again, I was not sure how to take things forward. Clearly it was my turn but she made no obvious attempt to reinitiate proceedings. Instead, she got up from the bed and touched me on the tip of the nose.

"Give me a couple of minutes."

With that she went into the ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind her.

I was sorely tempted to get into the bed and cover myself but I did not want her to think me prudish. I was just considering how to compose myself when I heard a sound behind me. It was like the groaning sound that my ageing heating boiler made from time to time but I could not imagine that, in a modern home like this, the boiler would be housed in a bedroom cupboard.

When the sound was repeated curiosity got the better of me. I padded across to the row of built in wardrobes and peeked inside. Part of me hoped to find her clothes storage as disorganized as mine but nothing could have prepared me for lay behind the door.

It would have been hard to say which of us was the more startled, me or the naked Adonis that stood there bound in place. Steph had joked that her husband was a trophy toy boy and I had no doubt that this was he.

With his dark eyes and thick oiled hair he put me in mind of a Spanish footballer. It was obvious that he was exceptionally handsome notwithstanding the ball gag that distended his mouth.

His body was toned and there was not a single hair on it which only went to emphasise the fullness of his impressive erection. Outside of porn films I had never seen one quite so prodigious and I had the sense that it had been straining at the leash for quite some time.

He stood with feet apart, his ankles bound to eyebolts drilled into the floor confirming that this situation was not new to him. His posture thrust him forward a little and a quick look showed why.

His arms were held behind him in a single leather sleeve which cinched each of his wrists to the opposing elbow. The whole arrangement was then attached to another eyebolt set sufficiently high in the wall to ensure a measure of discomfort.

It was hard to read his expression; a mix of surprise, excitement and perhaps a little fear.

For my own part I was wondering just exactly what I had gotten myself into.

Now that the wardrobe door was open I could see that the louvred vents afforded him a surprisingly clear view of the bed and so, not only had he been able to hear everything, he had been able to watch as well.

For some reason that discovery excited me more than I might have imagined. A mischievous part of me wanted to take hold and tease him by way of revenge but, at that moment, I heard the toilet flushing.

I quickly closed the wardrobe door and returned to the bed. When Steph came back into the room I looked at her anew. I was strongly tempted to confront her but something held me in check.

She took up her station reclining on the cushions and I now understood that she was provocatively putting herself on show directly in her husband's line of sight. If further proof were needed she raised her knee and nonchalantly ran her finger along the length of her exposed sex.

Unfortunately, her casual wantonness did nothing to assuage my own desperate need. My mind was fogged by a fever of lust and, heedless of the consequences, I prostrated myself once more and sealed my mouth to her sex.

"My, my, you're insatiable."

Her gentle laughter might have been edged with a hint of mockery but I was beyond caring. It took a while for her to begin to simmer but I had my own agenda.

I tucked up my knees and raised my backside. I regard it as my best feature and now I displayed myself shamelessly as I brought my fingers into play. I found it hard to believe just how wet I was as I pushed my hand as far back as I could smearing my skin with the product of my own arousal.

It was so perverted, cruel even, knowing that he was helplessly watching, but I am not sure that I had ever been so turned on.

Normally, sex for me felt disjointed. I could focus on my partners needs or my own but rarely together. Now it was a perfect symbiosis. The wetter and more aroused that Steph became the more my body responded.

As I licked and sucked at her I was driving two fingers deep inside myself. Those two fingers became three and then four. I had never done this to myself before and my wrist was making a tortured complaint but it was subsumed by my heated savagery.

My whole hand was swallowed and wetness dripped from my forearm as I impaled myself.

I could no longer support myself properly and I was pressed even closer to Steph's ravening maw. She started to swear, urging me on, and I feared that I would not have the strength but then she started to come.

My tongue was deep inside her as my own climax took hold. Centred on my sex it reverberated throughout my whole body. It was a tingling sensation that kept on feeding itself and I did not want it to end but it felt as if my head would explode with the sheer exultation of it.

At the finish I almost cried in frustration as I finally had to let it go. I withdrew my aching fingers and, still slumped between her legs, I gently licked the hot sticky residue from her cooling skin.

It took some while for my breathing to return to normal but, in the ensuing quietness another unmistakable groan could be heard.

Steph put her hand to my head to hold me still but then she was a bustle of activity.

"You are going to have to leave. My husband will be home anytime soon"

She ushered me into the bathroom and handed me my clothes leaving me bewildered. As I quickly tried to tidy myself up I could only assume that she was trying to save herself the embarrassment of his presence being exposed and some small part of me was tempted to reveal to her what I had already discovered for myself.

Only later did I consider that she was simply being greedy and that she was eager to say goodbye just so that she could take advantage of his pent up frustration...

Chapter Three

For the next few days my work suffered badly. I found it hard to concentrate as I tried to reach an understanding of everything that had transpired.

In an aesthetic sense I had always appreciated the beauty, and attraction, of certain women but I had never thought of it in terms of defining my sexuality. Prior to recent events, had anyone suggested that I would be prepared to physically engage with another woman I would have laughed in their face. 

The truth was that I still felt that Steph had used me but I knew that, if she asked me again, I would say yes in a heartbeat. It had been the most intense sexual encounter I had ever had in my life.

Twice, I found myself taking the later train in the hope of catching a glimpse of Bryony and I berated myself for acting like a besotted teenager. I knew I had to pull myself together or I was in danger of jeopardizing my chances of promotion to partner.

When I received a phone call from John, the eye candy from Phelps, I decided to put him out of his misery and accepted an invitation to a drink after work. To keep the arrangement loose I suggested meeting for a quick glass of wine at a bar near the station.

He left the choice to me and, subliminally or otherwise, I suggested "The Other Side of the Tracks". It was a popular haunt for the after work crowd and with the gay community drawn from the theatres nearby.

Unfortunately, whilst John attracted admiring glances from both women and men alike, he was a dull conversationalist and he was doing nothing to restore my faith in the male of the species. My eyes kept flitting to the far end of the room where the same sex couples seemed to be having a whale of a time.

It was a predominantly male crowd but there were a few female faces and one in particular looked familiar. It took me a few moments to bring it to mind and then, with a jolt of excitement, I recognized her as the girl I had seen at the station with Bryony.

She was small, dark haired, and could have been taken for a young teenager although her full breasts strongly suggested otherwise and the bar was strictly over twenty-ones. She seemed perfectly at home amongst the raucous theatrical fraternity.

Almost inevitably, as a man confident in his own desirability, John made a crass attempt to talk me into something more than just a drink and at that point I called a halt to the proceedings. I allowed him to escort me into the station and actually went on to the platform before doubling back and returning to the bar.

I ordered another drink and took a table closer to the girl and her friends. I was not sure what I was doing, or hoped to achieve, as I got out my laptop to give the impression that I actually had a purpose.

From the snippets that I managed to overhear it seemed that the girl had a small part in the musical at the Palace Theatre just around the corner and I found myself wondering what connected her to Bryony.

After twenty minutes my drink was almost finished and, telling myself to get a grip, I began to put away my laptop. I had just switched off my wireless mouse when I saw the girl look towards the door.

I felt a sudden rush of adrenalin and intuitively looked up from my bag to see Bryony enter the bar. She had a look about her that suggested that she had come straight from work and the girl broke from the crowd to greet her with an effusive kiss on the cheek.

With all thoughts of an immediate exit dispelled I turned on my laptop again and tried to put my finger on just what it was that made her seem so attractive. She was not the most beautiful woman I had ever met but there was a certain something about her.

The general hubbub now made it impossible to overhear what was being said and I contented myself by taking stolen glances in her direction. At one point I peered over the top of the screen only to find her looking directly at me and I quickly cast my eyes down again figuring that she was checking out the clientele in general.

I was still pretending to be engrossed when I got the shock of my life.

"Good evening..."

Without another word she took the seat opposite me and presented me with a glass of wine. Close to, her icy blue eyes were almost hypnotic and I could do nothing about the guilty flush that now reddened my cheeks.

"I'm Bryony...but then I suspect you know that."

She paused to take a sip from her own glass and then continued.

"I could almost believe that you're stalking me. Don't get me wrong, it's flattering to be stalked by a woman as beautiful as you but, if I had to guess, you're very new to this."

To be caught out was one thing but to be made to appear so transparent was totally unnerving. I desperately wanted to tell her that I was not normally like this but it would have only served to confirm what she had already surmised. I opened my mouth to speak but I could find no words.

"If you are interested I can let you have some contact numbers. There are lots of straight women who are curious."

Was she rejecting me because she had determined I was straight or was she just not attracted? Either way I felt a hollow forming in the pit of my stomach. My discomfiture must have shown because her features softened into a warm smile.

"Look, what I'm saying is that, for someone like you, I am dangerous to know."

It was such an odd thing to say and I was intrigued by her choice of words. It felt as if she was trying to belittle me in some way and I reacted by pushing my glass towards her and snapping back.

"I'll buy my own drinks, thank you."

She looked intrigued, even a little amused, and then she produced a business card. She scribbled an address on the back of it and handed it to me.

"Meet us later, after ten."

With that she got up and re-joined her group. She left the glass of wine which I finished quickly and then I packed up my things. I waited until I got outside to peruse the card which, to my astonishment, declared her to be a junior paediatrician.

The address on the reverse was in an area which had grown in popularity with the resurgence of the open air market which I sometimes visited at weekends. On reading it I felt a frisson of excitement but there was no way on earth that I was to entangle myself.




A Train of Events



It was a pleasant evening and I decided to take a quick stroll along the embankment to clear my head but I kept on coming back to the same question. To whom was she referring when she said "us"?

It was later than I thought when I eventually boarded a train and it was close to ten-thirty as it approached Bryony's station. I only had to stay on for three more stops and I was home but my body seemed to move of its own volition.

I told myself that I would not call in; I would take a look at where she lived simply out of curiosity. It turned out to be one of the up-market apartments that looked out over the new canal and its associated green space.

I was building up an altogether different picture of Bryony when, for the second time that evening, I was shocked out of my reverie.

"I knew you'd come."

Standing behind me was Bryony herself in company with the girl from the bar. They must have been on the same train that I had taken. The natural assumption was that they were in a relationship and living together but, if so, what was their interest in me?

I was almost in a daze as I followed them up to the top floor apartment and as they opened the front door I was struck by high ambient temperature. The overall décor had a Scandinavian feel with lots of beech wood and pastel colours and I expected it to feel cool.

I stepped across the threshold and Bryony took my jacket but I was taken aback when her companion stood in the entranceway and proceeded to completely undress as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Bryony laughed.

"I like her to be naked when we're at home." 

Alarms were shrilling in my head but I did not resist as Bryony led me to an open plan living space with windows on three sides. Given a choice of a sofa and two chairs I took the safer option of a chair. The girl, meanwhile, had disappeared only to return with a bottle of wine and a tray of glasses.

She poured drinks for Bryony and me but not for herself. When she was done she sat on the floor and Bryony began to stoke her hair as if she were a favoured pet. I was still finding it hard to guess her age but strangely, without her clothes, she somehow seemed more empowered.

The next ten minutes were surreal as we discussed our respective jobs as though the girl was not even there but I noted that she was slowly moving closer until she was nuzzling Bryony's legs.

My innate sense of good manners made me want to ask her a direct question, to draw her into the conversation notwithstanding their strange juxtaposition, but she made no attempt to engage with me. Her whole attention was fixed on Bryony.

She looked the embodiment of innocence but, at the same time, there was an undeniable air of eroticism about her.

For a few seconds I was jarred back to a state of lucidity. I could not deny that I was intrigued by the possibilities of the scene being played out in front of me but I hated not being in control and I needed to get a grip on reality.

I put my glass down and stood up to make my excuses but, before I could speak, Bryony forestalled me.

"Leaving so soon? Please sit down, the fun is only just beginning."

Her smile issued a challenge. She had, after all, warned me but I had chosen to ignore it. I found myself rationalizing that we were both professional women and that this was nothing more than an innocent diversion. What harm could come of it?

I sat back down and, unbidden, the girl refilled my glass; as she did so Bryony slowly parted her legs and I quickly looked away as she flashed her panties.

She retained her immodest pose as the girl returned to her this time to settle between her legs. Without missing a beat she began to tell me how the staff in her Paediatric department were encouraged to dress less formally to make their young charges feel more comfortable but her words were lost on me as the girl began to rub her cheek against Bryony's inner thigh.

If she was seeking my attention it was undivided as she began to kiss her way slowly upwards. Bryony sat as though it was nothing more than her due, her flow of conversation uninterrupted. 

I remained mute as the girl knelt low and completely turned her back to me. She was lost between those enticing thighs as Bryony enshrouded her with her skirt and gently held her in place. 

Any lingering pretence at normality was dismissed. I could no longer ignore the growing ache between my legs and I shifted a little in my seat causing Bryony to give a quiet laugh.

"Go ahead, touch yourself."

Even now some last echoes of decorum tugged at me but my heart was racing and I could feel my heightened pulse throbbing at my temples. With my eyes fixed on the girl, and my imagination running wild, I slid my hand under my skirt and deep into my panties.

I was obscenely wet and my nose twitched at the liberated reek of my own arousal. How had I come to this so quickly?

Bryony relaxed into the embrace of the chair and sipped her wine nonchalantly whilst the girl continued her labour of love. From time to time she spoke to me but I was beyond cogent thought; my mind was a slave to my primal, physical, need.

"Why don't you make yourself more comfortable?"

She left the interpretation entirely up to me and I felt disembodied as I arose from the chair and began to shed my clothes. I wanted her to look at me, to find me attractive, and her appreciative smile suggested that I had achieved the desired effect. 

I sat down once more and caressed myself openly and unrestrainedly. I had never known my nipples to feel so rigidly tumescent and I was pleased as she lowered her gaze to my breasts.

At some point the girl had divested Bryony of her panties and her contended whimpers as she reapplied herself to her task had me leaking jealously. I had no idea where this was headed but there was no little irony in the fact that I had now been cast in the role of voyeur and was being given a taste of my own medicine.

I could not believe the degree of self-control that she was exhibiting as the minutes ticked by and the girl showed no sign of tiring. My own fingers were moving ever more urgently and beads of moisture were forming in the valley of my breasts.

Bryony gave the slightest of smiles as she recognized my state of agitation. I wanted to reach the zenith together with her but she knew that it was a battle lost. As she stared me straight in the eyes I sought the final crescendo and I keened a muted, soulful, scream as my climax bore me up and wrung out every last ounce of pleasure from me.

I was left gasping for breath and incapable of movement. She, by contrast, looked serene as she somehow conveyed that the moment had come. The girl gave a greedy groan and then I heard her softly sucking.

It was clear that the girl was very practised but, even now, Bryony retained her composure. She melted into a prolonged orgasm with barely a sigh and it was obvious that she was saving herself for much more to come.

In evidence of this the girl did not move and I could hear her still gently lapping. That simple sound set off fresh sensations centred between my legs and I felt my own tongue moving in my mouth as I was almost overcome by an aberrant urge to take her place.

As the thought was formed I caught Bryony's eye and it was as if I had expressed my desire out loud. She stroked the girl's hair and tenderly eased her away to leave me looking at the majesty of her reddened sex.

That feeling of not being in command of my own body returned as I got up to cross the divide between us but, as I did so, Bryony rose from her chair and the girl eased in and took her place.

I looked to Bryony in confusion but she simply said.

"It's only fair, do you not think?"

The girl sat waiting with a sense of insouciance her legs casually parted. Whereas Bryony was perfectly depilated the girl retained a light growth of dark curls which were matted with moisture and her glistening inner thighs bore further witness to her arousal.

Was it possible that she had come without touching herself, simply by the act of ministration?

I badly wanted Bryony and if this was the price then I was prepared to pay it. Some part of me baulked at her elfin youthfulness but as I went to my knees before her I had the distinct impression that she was far more experienced than I.

Once I was settled between her coltish legs I was enveloped by her scent as it rose from her heated skin and I began to breathe more deeply. It acted on me at some subliminal level and I now craved the taste of her.

Looking up, I saw her smiling at me, her pupils dilated, and fully understanding exactly what I was going through. She ran a finger along the length of her sex parting the wet curls and revealing the lush inner pinkness.

I sealed myself to her like a drowning woman seeking air and the first taste was rich and full. There was no doubt that she had already climaxed but she was ready for more spurred on, no doubt, by my perceived inexperience.

Almost immediately she began to leak a warm, creamy, offering which flooded my mouth and sharpened my senses. I could feel my own sex distending and I wanted to touch myself again but I knew that, for now, she had to be the focus of my attention.

I began an exploration, mapping her intimate contours and seeing what she liked the most. Her deep set clitoris was sensitive but I did not want her to come too quickly. Instead, I set to squirming my tongue as deep within her as I possibly could and the resultant gushes of moisture told their own story.

I was becoming lost in her when I felt Bryony put her hand to the back of my head and pressing me tighter.

"Suck her..."

I did as I was told and I was having to swallow repeatedly in order to keep my mouth clear. Had I been told that a woman could be so wet I would not have believed it and I was even more shocked by the extent to which it aroused me.

Her body was being shaken by a series of irregular convulsions and I could no longer restrain myself. I pursed my lips at the apex of her sex and began to flick my tongue over her clitoris whilst simultaneously working my fingers over my own.

Once again it felt as if her impending climax was, somehow, feeding mine. It was a shared uplifting that guided the actions of my mouth and hand until her sex stifled my exultant cry as I took us both over the edge.

It took an age for us both to recover. I was too weak to move and remained between her legs, panting hard, as her body finally settled to stillness.

I was brought back to reality by an ironic round of applause from Bryony.

"Bravo!...but I think you might want to tidy yourself up."

I got to my feet unsteadily and she handed me my clothes as she ushered me towards the bathroom. Looking into the mirror felt like beholding a complete stranger. Perspiration had made my hair lank and my makeup was smeared. I worked my tongue around my mouth which was thick with the girl's taste and my face was still wet with her outpouring.

I washed quickly and put some toothpaste on to my finger to freshen my mouth. I decided not to reapply my makeup and I fixed my hair as best I could.

For some unfathomable reason I felt embarrassed about going back outside. In handing me my clothes Bryony had clearly signalled that the evening's proceedings were at an end but I desperately wanted to see her again and I had no idea how she felt about things.

When I emerged the girl was nowhere to be seen and Bryony gave the impression that we had done nothing more than share an innocent glass of wine. I was struck mute as she led me to the door and kissed me chastely on the cheek.

"We must do this again sometime." 

Chapter Four

Fortunately, over the following few days, my work was so demanding I could hardly spare a thought for anything else. I had been as good as assured that if I could land the Etheridge account I would be made a partner. Everything had been going well but, as it transpired, too well.

The Etheridge board were so impressed by my initial pitch, and subsequent presentation, that they asked me to revise my dispositions and dividend forecasts to take into account an investment three times the amount originally postulated. I would have liked more time but they wanted to take up positions before the end of the tax year.

After a fourth late night the new presentation was ready and, for the first time in days, I got around to thinking about my personal life. At home, I checked my backed up messages many of which were from an ever more frustrated John who wanted to take me out again. I found myself wondering if I could get past his inherent dullness in return for an uncomplicated bout of sex.

The truth was I was hoping that there might be a message from Bryony but then remembered that my personal number was not included on the business card that I had given her.

Now that my mind was clear of investment strategies she came to occupy it more and more. I could not sleep without conjuring her image and, when I did, it was to wake stressed and clammy with my hand between my legs.

The temptation to take the later train in the hope of bumping into her was strong but I knew that she would see through it. In the end I did the civilised, uncomplicated, thing and gave her a call.

Just hearing her voice sent a thrill surging through my body and it took a moment to appreciate that she was delicately turning me down.

"...we all had a good time but we are travelling in different directions."

I was left confused; after all it was she that had intimated that we might do it again.

"Can we meet, just for coffee perhaps, there are things I think we need to discuss."

There was a pause at the end of the line and then what might have been an exasperated sigh.

"Okay, tomorrow lunchtime. There's a Costa Coffee shop here at the hospital. Can you make it for one-thirty?"

The timing was awkward, especially as it necessitated a trek across town, but I said yes and my heart was hammering as I put the phone down.

The next day I spent an age considering what to wear and the morning at work passed in a blur. The immediate pressure was off as Etheridge had still not given a commitment but they had undertaken to give their decision within seven days and so there was still time in hand.

I splashed out on a taxi at lunchtime and arrived a little early but Bryony was already there. She looked different, but no less beautiful, with her hair up and dressed in a white medical coat. She was engrossed in a set of notes and I stood for a second or two just starting at her.

She looked up, smiled sweetly, and beckoned me across. The coffee shop had imaginatively divided up some of the floor space into a series of separate conference areas and she was seated alone in one of the booths.

I kissed her on the cheek and, after a brief exchange, I placed the order for coffees.

It seemed impossible that we could be so formal in one another's company, given what had transpired, but the atmosphere was uncomfortably stilted. Finally she leant across and touched the back of my hand.

"Just ask me a question. Anything you want."

I had so many but I started with something blunt and obvious.

"What's your relationship with your flatmate?"

To my surprise she pondered a moment before replying.

"I suppose the answer is short term. Gwen is staying with me for the duration of her play's London run. Later this year it goes on tour and so I guess things will come to a natural conclusion."

I felt an irrational sense of relief that they seemed not to be engaged in anything long term but my question had been double edged and she smiled as she continued.

"A little while ago I was made aware of a group of women, professional for the most part, with little time or inclination to tie themselves down to any one partner. These women are, discrete, discerning and, in a word, demanding.

They in turn, opened my eyes to another caste of women who have a natural inclination to serve. They are affectionately referred to as "the sluts".

Once I was aware of this I found that I could pick out these women; perhaps it's a gift or perhaps something to do with my medical training, who knows. In your case you remain on the cusp. I have no doubt that your lesbian leanings will win out but, the question is, are you a slut?"

The frankness of her remarks shocked me. It all sounded preposterous but could I deny the evidence of my own recent experience? The suggestion that I would allow myself to be used in any way was, somehow, insulting; why, therefore, did her choice of words excite me?

I was still trying to order my confused thoughts when we were interrupted and Bryony smiled at the newcomer.

"May I introduce Grace De Moyes. Grace is a Consultant Paediatrician here at the hospital and she has been acting as my mentor."

Her name sounded vaguely familiar but, had I met her before, I certainly would have remembered her. She was tall and slim with deep brown eyes that seemed to bore into me. Her short dark hair was shot through with the odd silver strand and faint laughter lines softened her face which might otherwise have been considered stern. I found it hard to determine her age. She could have passed for late thirties but might easily be ten years older. Given her occupational status I guessed that the latter was closer to the truth.

"My pleasure. Bryony has been telling me about you."

I was not sure whether to be flattered or alarmed but her attention had already switched as she seemed to look disdainfully at her surroundings.

"I'm on my way back to my office. Why don't you both join me? I'm sure I can rustle up something a little more palatable to drink."

I was about to refuse, on the grounds that I needed to get back, but Bryony rose from her chair and took me by the hand. We followed Grace along a crowded corridor before cutting across the grounds to the original hospital building which, I was informed, was now a medical school.

Grace had "rooms" on the top floor. The outer area was bright, gaily lit, with lots of children's toys in evidence. Her inner sanctum formed a complete contrast. The original carved wood panelling had been preserved and, but for the phone and computer, it could still have been the 1920's.

Without asking she poured each of us a glass of sherry from a crystal decanter. It was not something I would normally drink but I could tell that this was a long way removed from the supermarket offering I was used to.

She took a seat behind her desk and Bryony and I occupied the guest chairs. Grace asked me about what I did for a living and I explained about ethical investments and how, in some areas, it had common links with the medical profession. As she listened I was intrigued to notice that she made a note on a jotter.

I was no fool. The meeting with Grace had clearly been engineered and I could make a reasonable guess as to why. The real question was why had I gone along with it?

Grace shifted a little in her seat as if she had followed my train of thought.

"Bryony tells me that you are an ingénue and I have to tell you that I find that attractive in a woman...so much so that I want you get down on your knees and crawl to me."

I looked at her in total disbelief but her face evinced no hint of amusement; rather, there was an expression of purest lust that lit her eyes and lent her a cruel beauty. I had only met this woman moments ago but I was almost overcome by a need to be kissed by her.

I had never felt this was way about a man. It was as if she had cast a veil over us and created a secret space free from the usual mores that might otherwise inhibit.

I could not tear my eyes from her and could not understand why I felt such an irrational need for her approval. I was not being forced, not even coerced, so why did I go to my knees?




A Train of Events



Her desk did not have a modesty board and she had allowed her skirt to ride up revealing her legs. As I neared she parted them a little more and in the dimmed light beneath the desktop I could see that she was wearing stockings and suspenders.

It seemed so decadent to be wearing them as everyday attire but on her it seemed perfectly natural.

I felt both absurd and demeaned but any thoughts of stopping were crushed by an aching need as she lured me further in. Her legs were opening inch by inch exposing the paleness of her thighs above the dark welts.

As I began to tentatively kiss her warm skin I was infused with a feeling of well-being that I had not experienced since childhood. I stroked her smooth calves moving up to the solidness of her toned thighs willing her to beckon me in.

I heard distant laughter and snatches of conversation but they were meaningless as I was slowly seduced by prospect that lay before me.

Her panties were dark, expensive, silk and they were stretched across her mound which was obscenely prominent. She had applied a light scent to her thighs but it could not compete with the emergent proof of her arousal.

Driven by an outlandish yearning I used the flat of my tongue to lick the tight crotch of her underwear feeling the soft rasp of silk and appreciating the exuded taste.

For a moment of two I was riding a wave of pure euphoria but then, without warning, she eased her chair backwards.

"That's good for now. I want you to come back at the same time tomorrow. Make sure that you free up the afternoon."

The abrupt dismissal hit me like a cosh. Less than five minutes later I was standing alone on the pavement, having left them together, feeling both confused and bereft.

Back at the office I could barely function and I could not fully comprehend what had happened to me. I had prostrated myself for a total stranger, in front of a woman I hardly knew, but there was no doubting that I had been excited almost beyond measure.

Trying to take a step back it seemed that Bryony was showing me how weak willed I really was and how easily I could be seduced. Now it had been left up to me.

I spent a restless night thinking things through but by morning I had reached a decision. I still harboured a strong desire to get to know Bryony better, in every sense, but the price was too high to pay. I determined that I would explore my feelings for other women on my own terms and, bolstered by this plan, I went into work.

At the office I spent a productive couple of hours clearing my in tray but then I drew a sharp breath as an e-mail from Etheridge arrived.

It was a personal message from Moira Etheridge herself and started off with an apology for the delay in replying. My heart began to beat faster as I read on. The Etheridge board were happy with my proposal and it would now go to a vote of the trustees. She suggested that, with the support of her personal recommendation, the vote would a formality and I gave a muted whoop of delight.

The final paragraph referred to our mutual decision to revisit the tax shelter issues in light of the first year's returns but Moira asked if I would give a brief outline to one of the trustees who had raised a last minute question.

I was elated. The tax issue was completely uncontroversial and there was no way that it would a show stopper. The deal was effectively done. I opened the attachment to get the contact details of the trustee and then I gasped as I read the name... Grace De Moyes.

Chapter Five

I was breathing raggedly and perspiration beaded my forehead. It was a minute of two before I recovered a vestige of composure and then I frantically called up the Etheridge trust deed on screen.

The trust had been set up by Henry Etheridge who had made his money in South African mining. His wife, Moira, ran it on a day to day basis along with a board of trustees all three of whom I had met on a frequent basis.

Beneath board level all of the organizations that contributed to the investment pool, that Etheridge administered, were represented by one of more trustees depending on the size of their commitment. In all there were more than one hundred contributors and nearly two hundred trustees entitled to a vote.

Buried way down the list I found Grace's name as one of two trustees representing a children's charity called 'Compassion'. A further trawl established that she had never attended an Etheridge meeting nor had she ever registered a vote. Hers was clearly a token presence.

There was no way on earth that this was a simple coincidence and I angrily picked up the phone. After five frustrating minutes of being pushed round the hospital's telephone system I was eventually told that Grace was running a clinic and would not be available until later in the day.

I was still seething as, after lunch, I took a taxi in order to keep our original appointment. I burst into her office without knocking and confronted her at her desk.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

She looked up from the report she was reading completely unfazed.

"Good afternoon."

Her insouciance riled me even more.

"I do not care about your little fantasy life. Anything that happened between us is at an end and you do not threaten my professional role, even obliquely."

She looked at me with mild amusement.

"A little ironic don't you think? Our talk of worlds colliding and here we are, my charity and your asset management company. The truth is the name of your company rang a bell but I could not think why. Finance is not my strong suit."

I bit my tongue waiting for her to continue.

"I wouldn't even have bothered to check it up except that Bryony and I had a talk after you left yesterday. You see, Bryony surmised that you had come too far too quickly. She was guessing that you would step back from the brink and that you would not keep our appointment today.

Now that, for me, would have been a great pity. So great that I was encouraged to do a little digging and lo and behold..."

I looked at her intently.

"You will phone Etheridge and you will tell them that everything has been cleared up to your satisfaction."

A hint of a smile crossed her face.

"...my satisfaction...yes, I guess it will all come down to that.

I had to check with my accountant and she confirms that your work on behalf of the trust has been exemplary. She even thought that the tax shelter matter had been shrewdly handled but I needed something to entice you back."

Only now did I fully understand what this was all about.

"The tax shelter is not an issue at all. I can talk to the Etheridge board and clear this up in two minutes."

She put her pen down and steepled her fingers.

"I have no doubt that you could. I only have a nodding acquaintance with Moira Etheridge but 'Compassion' is a large stakeholder. I'm guessing that I could make a minor nuisance of myself."

Did she know about the tax year deadline? Any delay beyond that left an open ended completion date and the prospect of other suitors trying to get a foot in the door. I had to get the deal sealed.

She remained silent for a second or two longer and then she spoke bluntly.

"I want two hours of your time...or, more particularly, two hours of your lovely little mouth and tongue."

I fired back at her.

"I will not be blackmailed!"

She smiled as she replied.

"Think of it in any terms you wish."

Without another word she got up and left the room and it was a few seconds before I gathered myself to follow after her. I walked through to the outer office and was stopped in my tracks. She was standing in the middle of the room, having already shed her dress, looking totally beguiling in her elegant black underwear.

Her lightly tanned, toned, body belied her age and she was fully aware of the effect that she was having on me. She crossed to the examination couch, which was decorated with nursery motifs, and pressed a button at its head. With a soft hum of motors the couch reconfigured from a single to a double platform.

Seeing my bemusement she explained.

"It is sometimes easier to examine a child if the parent lies down with them."

With studied deliberation she removed the remainder of her clothing and settled onto the bed with her legs parted.

"A quick one to start with, just to ease the tension, and then you can settle down and take your time."

She spoke as if I were nothing more than a concubine, a slave to her desires, and I should have been fired with anger but, instead, the heat within me was transmuting into a pathetic craving.

Her sex was revealed in all its glory by a bank of spotlights that illuminated the couch. The perfectly shaped mound was shaded by a close trimmed covering of dark hair with a few flecks of grey sparked by the light but it was her labia that riveted my attention.

The swollen lips bloomed languorously already speckled with tiny droplets of moisture and I swallowed audibly as my tongue awakened to a realm of possibilities.

She said nothing more but lay there confident of the inevitable outcome. I felt galled but I had lost all sense of reason. I paused fleetingly wondering if I should undress, but I could wait no longer.

I lay prostrate on the couch, setting myself between her legs, and breathed in the fullness of her personal scent which hung heavily in the air. Its muskiness was narcotic and I began to softly kiss her lips, each in turn, before slyly employing my tongue.

Her taste was all that I could have hoped for and I was soon lapping greedily along the whole length of her furrow. Outwardly, she retained her cool demeanour but the heat that radiated from her sex told its own story.

I wanted to work my tongue deep inside her but she had made clear her desire and I strained my neck to seek out her clitoris. It needed no coaxing, already standing proud, and as I engaged with her I could feel the vitality of her pulse.

I was still certain that my technique left something to be desired but it only took a few strokes of my tongue before she began to clutch me to her and the dam quickly burst. Her body shook gently but erratically as she rode out her climax coating my face with the dew of her arousal.

I pulled away from her to catch my breath and to cool down a little and, as I did so, she drowsily turned over onto her stomach.

Now that she was faced away from me I could her appraise her more fully. Her body was long and lean and her skin flawless save for two tiny moles high on her shoulder. Her legs would be the envy of many a young athlete but my eyes were drawn to the surprising fullness of her derrière

It was beautifully curved and, without thinking, I reached out and ran my fingers over the taut contours. In response she gave an appreciative moan and lifted herself a little. I drew my hand away quickly, as if scalded, only to hear her laugh quietly.

"Don't be coy...I want you to lick me."

She stretched with a feline grace opening the divide and putting herself lewdly on display. The tight, puckered, opening was fully revealed, a forbidden shade in a pale landscape.

It would be a lie to say that this was something that I had never contemplated but it required a degree of intimacy that I had never found in my previous relationships. How bizarre then that I should feel so drawn to a woman I hardly knew.

As I drew nearer my body was trembling and I took a deep breath to try and calm myself. I placed my hands carefully on her cheeks as if she were a work of art and then, cursing my own timidity, I licked clumsily.

I was surprised by the tenseness of her muscles but pleased as she gave growl of approval. I tried again, this time more positively, with a long stroke of my tongue.

I fell into an easy rhythm causing her to sigh deeply but then she began to arch her body guiding me towards the ultimate goal.

Even now I felt uneasy, my arms rigid, as I dared myself. Each successive sweep of my tongue was foreshortened as I began to fix my attention on the opening itself.

At first it felt inflexible but then she held her breath and there was a tiny but perceptible yielding. Emboldened, I speared my tongue and applied a steady pressure.

For a few seconds it seemed a futile struggle but then she hissed out a triumphant "Yes!" and I breached the portal to be gripped tight within. The initial pressure was uncomfortable but as I flexed my tongue and probed more deeply she relaxed and accepted my ministrations.

I registered a brackish taste cut through with the astringent tang of an expensive soap and there was a strong temptation to switch back to her sex which was weeping copiously not least because she had brought her fingers furiously into play.

At the finish it was this evidence of her excitement that kept me in place trying to drive her ever higher. I lay locked with her for what seemed an age and when she finally deigned to allow herself a second climax the cramping of her muscles threated to painfully crush my tongue.

For the briefest instant I felt pathetic but I knew that, if she asked, I would do it again. Through it all I was hovering on the brink of an orgasm that promised to shake me to the core.

As I finally slid free she twisted herself and lay slumped on her back. Her mauled sex was a beautiful shade of angry red and the surrounding wetness spread to her thighs. I needed no bidding. I slowly and slavishly licked her skin clean working my way inevitably back towards that beautiful oasis.

Her third climax was prolonged. She would stop me from time to time to regather herself and then allowed me to resume. My neck and tongue, in fact my whole face, ached but I remained tireless in my efforts to please this captivating goddess. My own arousal ebbed a little but only to swell again as she joyously shuddered through another series of blissful contractions.

Her two hours had become the better part of three before she cleaned herself up and got dressed again. I was conscious that she looked totally composed whilst I looked a complete wreck and I knew I would have to go home rather than back to the office.

I was almost in a trance as she led me to the door and, as I stood there, wondering what the hell to say, she slipped her hand beneath my skirt. In the space of a single heartbeat she fleetingly touched my sex and then brought her fingers to her lips. As she sucked them gently and closed the door on me I collapsed to the floor as I climaxed on the spot.

Chapter Six

The next few weeks passed in a blur. The Etheridge deal was sealed and my partnership was confirmed.

Setting up the initial investments and putting all of the required reporting into place was demanding and I had little time for a social life. If I am honest I was glad of the distraction as it gave me an excuse to duck the personal issues that I should have been confronting.

The one exception was the temptation, on several occasions, to get in touch with Bryony, not least because I noticed that the show at the Palace Theatre had closed as a prelude to the touring production, but cowardice got the better of me.

I had already decided that I was going to move house to somewhere more commensurate with my new position in life and I figured that Bryony would fade into a past left behind.

My confidence was further boosted when the other partners tasked me to take a trip to New York to talk to some US investors who were interested in the Etheridge model.

I decided to tack some well-earned annual leave onto the back of the trip. Ostensibly I would revisit some the sights I had first taken in as a teenager but in reality I was keenly aware that, as a stranger, I could dip my toe into the waters of the gay scene and see where it led me.

As it transpired my toe dipping proved to be a disaster. The bar I chose was nice enough but the clientele made it a pantomime. Every stereotype was to be found there. They were loud, ostentatious, and this was clearly a place to see and be seen. I found some of the woman attractive but there was no way on earth I was going to make an approach.

Back in my hotel room I struggled to formulate what I really wanted let alone how to go about finding it. I was gazing blankly at my e-mail account when a new message appeared. I took a sharp intake of breath and actually ran my finger across the address bar on screen to be sure.

The message was from Bryony.

"I tried to get in touch but I am told you are in New York - lucky you! We'll catch up when you get back but, in the meanwhile you might want to look up a friend of mine."

My heart soared irrationally on reading the simple words and then I quickly re-read it to ensure that there was nothing incriminating given that she had used my work account. My instinct was to reply immediately but something held me back. Hard as it was I decided that I would let her wait until I returned home.

It was a day later that I picked up the phone and dialled the number she had given me.

I asked to speak to "Philly" and was rocked back by the boisterous reply.

"You must be the investment guru Bryony told me about. That English accent is so cute!"

Within moments I had agreed to meet with her at her apartment on the Lower East Side. I dressed as if for a date and then gave some serious thought to changing again but I finally plucked up my courage and had the doorman hail me a cab.

Philly was something in magazine advertising and her apartment turned out to be a barn of a place on Stanton. It was a reflection of the woman herself who seemed larger than life. I guessed that she was at least ten years my senior and she was heavy in a sexy, curvy, sort of way. Her clothes were tailored to flatter her fuller figure but it was her face that seized my attention.

She had the most startling blue eyes set above high, rosy, cheeks and a sultry Clara Bow mouth. The roundness of her features was accentuated by her shoulder length blond hair set in soft curls.

With a little work she could be a total beauty but I sensed that she was more than happy in her own skin and people had to meet her on her own terms. She greeted me with a glass of wine and within minutes it felt as if we had known one another forever.

It struck me that I would be happy just to spend an uncomplicated evening in her company but we both knew the unspoken ties that bound us. Thus, I was not sure how to react when she asked

"How adventurous are you?"

I was still examining my feelings when she rose from the sofa and opened her hand bag. She took out some lengths of wide white ribbon and showed them to me.

"Would you let me tie you up?"

If she had been a man I would have refused point blank but, contrary to every instinct, the prospect of putting myself at her mercy sent a shiver of excitement coursing through my body. 

Set in front of the sofa was a full length Ottoman style upholstered coffee table which doubled as a footstool. As she bent to pat it I saw how it could be put to another purpose.

"It might be more comfortable if you undressed."

I think I began to take off my clothes just to give myself more time to deliberate but the ribbons looked so innocuous and her face beamed with mischievous fun. Almost in a daze I laid down on the padded surface and allowed her to fasten my limbs to the legs of the table.

Once she had me securely in place I found that the ribbons were more than equal to the task of holding me firm and with my legs opened across the width of the table I felt frighteningly vulnerable.

She left me for a moment and I heard her talking, presumably on the telephone. It only now dawned on me how stupid I had been but she smiled openly and put me marginally at ease.

She came and knelt beside me and idly teased my nipples to engorgement.

"Bryony wasn't lying. You really are beautiful."




A Train of Events



The knowledge that Bryony considered me in those terms caused my heart to flutter with excitement and I felt like a lovelorn teenager. Philly had a look of understanding on her face as she trailed her fingers down my body and I became desperate to feel her touch on my sex but she proceeded with aching slowness.

She had me squirming by the time she began to caress my inner thighs but each time I thought she was going to put me out of my misery she would withdraw and start all over again. I lost all track of time and my body became clammy with perspiration but she was not put off in any way. At one point she leaned over me and licked a bead of moisture from between my breasts.

That single act sparked a burning desire to have her kiss me but this too she seemed to anticipate. She touched her lips to mine for the briefest instant and then returned her attentions to my lower body.

I could feel myself leaking and she whispered into my ear.

"You reek of it you slut..."

What could have been taken as an insult was, from her, an unbelievable turn on. I groaned and felt a further seepage.

When, finally, her fingers began to graze against my sex it was a gossamer touch that continually skirted my labia. I was, by now, straining against my restraints and I begged her to be merciful. She simply smiled, switched her concentration to my breasts and began again.

I had almost reached a state of delirium when I was jolted back to reality by the ring of the doorbell. Ignoring my protestations Philly got to her feet and went to answer it. My embarrassment was almost beyond measure when I heard voices and realized that she was showing the newcomers into the room.

From what I could see, with my limited range of view, there were two of them and they both looked as if they had just stepped out of a business meeting. The first was a tall black woman. She had the stark features of Grace Jones softened by her long straightened hair. Her make-up was impeccably applied and I had difficulty pegging her age.

At first I thought that her companion was an Asian but, on closer inspection, her pretty square features hinted at some Native American in her DNA. She was slightly built, suggestive of youthfulness, but there was something about the way she held herself that made me think that she and I might be of a similar age.

"I see you started without us."

This from the black woman who removed her jacket and made herself comfortable on the sofa to be joined by her companion who seemed totally at ease with the situation.

Philly, poured them each a glass of wine and introduced them to me as Sara and Aponi as if the situation was nothing out of the ordinary. For the next fifteen minutes or so they made small talk whilst she continued to toy me. On the face of it she was giving no thought to what she was doing but every caress of her fingertips was increasing the erotic tension which racked my whole body.

Aponi was the first to finish her wine and, having done so, she stood up and casually began to get undressed. I was shocked by her sangfroid but more so as the others carried on their conversation completely unfazed.

Once she was completely naked she came and stood over me allowing me to appraise her lithe figure. Her breasts were mere upswells but this only emphasised the rigidity of her dark nipples. There were almost perfect roundels from which the teats stood almost obscenely proud.

Her hips were youthful but her swollen mound along with her exposed, puffy, labia suggested a woman of worldly experience.

"Well this is an unexpected pleasure at the end of a tiring day."

There was no further preamble, no niceties, as if by divine right she straddled my face and settled herself down. It took some seconds for me to come to terms with what was happening but Aponi was already rubbing herself demandingly over my mouth.

Her skin still bore the musty smells of a day at work but they were quickly overwhelmed by the heated scent of arousal. I was fully aware that I was being both used and demeaned but, far from being angered, I was simply turned on even more.

I began to lick her almost frenziedly and my reward was the wonderful touch of Philly's fingers on my sex. She tantalized the inner surfaces of my labia, ignoring the imploring thrusts of my hips, and I was panting with need.

The heat of my quickened breathing helped to coax Aponi towards a swift orgasm but I sensed that this was only the beginning.

She leisurely arose from her throne to reveal Sara standing gloriously naked at the foot of the table like some sort of Amazonian princess. She was obviously a woman who worked with weights and the muscles of her arms and legs were clearly defined. Her stomach was toned and her conical breasts were uplifted to the extent that her nipples stood almost perpendicular.

She was a frightening sight to behold but my eyes were already dropping to her sex and I was wondering how she would taste. She smiled at my appraisal but then turned to Philly.

"Do you have it?"

"Of course, but first things first, there is someone else who wishes to join us."

For a moment panic threatened to overwhelm me. I had barely come to terms with the idea of three of them taking advantage of me but now things seemed to be getting out of hand. I was on the verge of demanding that Philly release me when her meaning became apparent.

She opened a large screen laptop set on an elaborately carved escritoire which was the room's show piece. Having switched it on she produced a small cam with an adjustable tripod and carefully pointed it at me.

My immediate, and not irrational, fear was the prospect of blackmail. She turned the laptop towards me so that I could see myself on screen in all my wanton glory but then the image changed and I was confronted with Bryony's smiling face.

"Hi! I hope you're having a good time. I've just settled in to watch the show...I know you're going to make me proud."

My mind was in turmoil. On the one hand I wondered how dare she, and what did it say about her feelings about me, but on the other I had a ridiculous sense of wanting to be worthy of her.

By the time I refocused on reality Sara was already preparing herself. Philly had handed her a webbed harness and only as she stepped into it did I register the double ended phallus that defined its purpose.

I watched with a mixture of shock and fascination as she eased the thing deep inside herself with a guttural groan of satisfaction. I am no stranger to vibrators but the threat implicit in this had me shaking my head in denial.

"There, there. Don't fight it. Just relax and enjoy."

As Philly spoke she eased her finger fractionally inside me and in spite of everything we could all hear the soft suck of moisture.

Notwithstanding, I felt myself trembling as Sara approached like a panther bearing down on its prey. My muscles were tensed but she was in no hurry. She played the tip of the thing very lightly over the opening to my sex and I could feel my body betraying me. She spent some moments continuing to coax and I was relaxing involuntarily.

She read the moment of transition as defiance surrendered to greedy desire and she gently broached the portal.

Even now we remained barely engaged as she let me get used to the initial intrusion before she pressed herself home with exquisite slowness.

The thing was modestly sized and both warmer and more pliant than I imagined. Sara paused again once we were joined and reached forward to torment my nipples which had remained almost painfully tumescent.

Her touch was not as skilful as Philly's but, in my present state of agitation, it was enough to string me even tighter.

She continued for only a short while before she started to concentrate on her own need.

At first I thought she was withdrawing altogether but she stopped at the cusp and then gently invaded me once more.

It was a prelude to a series of long, easy, strokes and the glint in her eyes as she held my gaze told me that she was as aroused as me if not more so.

She was beautiful to look upon. The animal quality of her body was enhanced as her skin began to glisten with a fine sheen of perspiration and her latent power transmitted itself through the link that joined us.

There was a thrilling moment of realization that there was to be no softening, no disappointment. She was determined that we would both be fulfilled and she had both the resilience and purpose to deliver her promise.

Over the ensuing minutes she very gradually picked up the pace, impaling me with the commanding thrusts of her hips. I felt as if I was in the grip of a continuous slow-burning orgasm but I knew that the true climax was yet to come.

She looked deep into my eyes and I saw in hers a distillation of pure lust. There was an unspoken understanding that we were both ready and she found a fast and unremitting rhythm that shamed any man I had ever been with.

Her conquering growl as the dam burst triggered an orgasm that shook my whole body and left me trembling long after she was done. She was still now but the ebbing pulses of her sated sex were conducted to mine and I fed off them to keep myself aloft until, finally, my strength spent I lay limp and sublimely contented.

The room smelt of sex and expensive perfume evaporated from heated flesh and I breathed it deeply. I actually groaned with disappointment as Sara tenderly withdrew but oddly my thoughts turned to Bryony and what she had witnessed.

Exhausted as I now was I hoped that Philly would release me but her smile told another story. She moved closer, making sure I could watch, as she slowly undressed.

Naked, she was as impressive as Sara but in an altogether different way. There was a heaviness to her, her breasts, belly, thighs but her body was beautifully toned. I felt a longing to be enfolded in her arms, to embrace her inviting softness.

She stroked my face, giving a sense that all my yearnings would be gratified, but, as so often in the recent past, it was a matter of being careful what you wished for.

In a haze of movement she seemed to flow over me and then my face was arranged between her thighs as she looked into my eyes.

"I want you to worship me..."

Her choice of words was odd but it chimed with something deep within my psyche. Entrapped by the fullness of her flesh I felt cut off from all else and now she eased forward presenting her sex. 

I suddenly felt uncomfortably warm but my eyes were riveted to the lush delta before me. Like her it seemed so much larger than life. She was flawlessly depilated and her labia erupted from within to form dark, demanding, wings on which tiny beads of arousal caught the light.

She had waited a long time and her scent was rich but far from recoiling my nostrils twitched in expectation.

I put out my tongue but it was a stretch to reach her and I could barely run the tip along the edge of her lips.

It was enough to infuse my tongue with the pure taste of her and it acted on my brain like an ice cold shot. I strained again, wanting more, and I was dimly aware of her knowing smile.

It amused her, for a moment or two, to watch me trying to satisfy my craving but then she proceeded to demonstrate her dominion. She slowly eased forward eclipsing me with the slight overhang of her belly and then the last thing I was aware of was the mounds of her breasts before all was darkness.

She settled with her sex covering my mouth and I was acutely aware of the mass of her bearing down on me. My temperature rose within seconds and breathing became more of an effort until I willed myself to relax.

I reached out blindly with my tongue but I was unprepared for the sudden heat and wetness. I had penetrated her with ease and her essence ran down my cheeks.

All my senses were suffused. The warm compression of her body cut me off from the world offering a sanctuary in which my only and task and desire was to please her. My ears were blocked by the solidity of her thighs and every breath I took was moist.

I do not know for how long I laboured, my tongue exploring the depths of her. At moments her taste was more intense and the ever more erratic contractions, almost uncomfortable, gave the only clues as to my degree of success.

I had reached my own personal state of nirvana and recognized the possibility that I might reach another climax without even being touched.

Finally, her legs parted a little and I felt her hand on my head bidding me to remain still. She began to move over me, almost imperceptibly at first but then more positively. She was using my face and, contrary to all sense of reason, I welcomed it.

Her movements, like Sara's, were graceful but powerful and assured. She was asserting her womanhood in a manner that left me awestruck.

At last her orgasm broke over her, shaking her whole body, and my mouth was suddenly flooded with gouts of moisture which I swallowed with unseemly greed. I did not want it to end but a lack of air was making me light headed.

When, at last, she rose from me Aponi came and kissed her on the cheek and I felt an enormous sense of pride. My body ached in so many ways but, on balance, I was feeling wonderfully gratified.

My three tormentresses ignored me whilst they refilled their glasses but I had reached a point where I was simply prepared to relax and see how things played out.

After a few moments Aponi returned her attention to me and began to release my legs. It now seemed that proceedings might be coming to a close and, I have to confess, I had mixed feelings.

Philly and Sara put down their wine glasses and joined us. Philly knelt and addressed herself to the ribbons that still bound my wrists but, rather than undoing them, she checked to make sure that they were secure.

My surprise at this turn of events turned to shock as Philly loomed over me. Once again she straddled my face but this time I was left staring at the spectacle of her voluminous derrière.

"You know what you have to do..."

From my vantage point it was, almost literally, a breathtaking sight to behold. Her skin was unblemished and the heavy curves had a beauty all their own but I was very aware of the implicit menace.

I had already broken this taboo but that had been on my own terms. Now there could be no escape even if I wanted it. Philly reached down and spread her cheeks revealing a puckered opening that was only a slightly darker shade of pink than her natural skin colour.

The angel and demon within me fought for control, the one cautioning the other encouraging me to indulge my darkest desires.

Philly relaxed a little, bringing herself in reach of my tongue, and then sighed as I made a first, uncertain, foray. Her skin was a little salty but the taste of leaked arousal beckoned me on.

I licked more positively and I was repaid when I felt her hand caressing my sex. I wanted to feel her fingers inside me but she reached lower spreading my wetness and mirroring the actions of my tongue.

I was in a dream state. I could hear them speaking but paid them no heed as I endeavoured to satisfy Philly and, in turn, have her please me.

"Are you ready Aponi?"

This from Philly but then, more eerily, the disembodied voice of Bryony.

"A little larger I think."

Philly began to settle more heavily upon me and I braced my tongue to meet her. With seemingly little effort we were gradually conjoined.

It felt as if it were always meant to be but it was an act of total trust as she sealed me in and commanded every breath that I drew.

I could feel the pulses of excitement deep within her and, in return, she increased the pressure of her finger. After a fleeting sensation of discomfort she broke through and began a gentle massage and my state of arousal became incredibly heightened.

I was immediately transported to a hotel room in Paris. I was on a business trip and, on my one free evening, I had been watching some lesbian porn whilst stimulating myself with a vibrator. Using her hands one of the girls had penetrated the other both front and rear and, just for a moment, I was tempted to try for myself but, when it came to it, the opening seemed too tight and the vibrator too brutal and so I chickened out. 

Now Philly was showing me what I had missed. She introduced a second finger with such subtlety I did not even realize it was happening and the feeling of fullness seemed extended to my sex.

My clitoris was crying out for attention and I pushed my tongue further inside her hoping to engender a similar degree of need.

Philly was beginning to perspire, which only added to the feeling that I was drowning in her flesh, and, great as the pleasure was, I began to wonder how much more I could take.

Divining my moment of crisis she gently withdrew and switched her attention to my heated sex but, at the same time, I felt my legs being raised. Where, seconds ago, her warm fingers had been there was now a cool, insistent, hardness.

My howl of protest was smothered as I felt myself being impossibly stretched. My muscles clenched defensively but Philly began to stimulate my clitoris and my resistance crumbled. I was torn between the intense pleasure she bestowed and the continuing invasion.

I thought I could take no more but still I was being filled until I felt the warmth of thighs pressed against me. In light of what had been said I assumed that Aponi had donned the harness relinquished by Sara but this seemed brutal by comparison.

She gave me a moment to adjust to the situation and I appreciated that, in some manner, my sex had become more sensitized. Philly clearly knew from experience exactly what I was feeling as her fingers continued to dance over my clitoris bringing me closer to the brink.

My tongue was free which, was just as well as I panted for breath, but Philly gave me no respite from my entombment. She remained solidly in place as Aponi withdrew a little only to press home once more.

There was nothing I could do except try and relax but as Aponi found a rhythm I was surprised at how readily my body came to terms with the intrusion. Philly's ministrations continued unabated and I actually found myself working my hips to meet Aponi's quickening thrusts.

I began to cry out, yearning for release, and Philly did not disappoint. Aponi pressed home one final time and I sensed that she was lost in the throes of her own climax as Philly worked her fingers with a barely credible rapidity and launched me into an orgasm like no other.

I was soaring so high that it was frightening and my body trembled with waves of pleasure stretching to each extremity. I did not want it to end and I wept as I finally had to let it go.

I drew a deep breath as Philly finally relinquished her throne and I was able to watch as Sara helped a spent Aponi out of the harness.

My mind was a whirr of confused thoughts and impressions and I now just wanted some time alone to try and make sense of everything. Philly smiled at me, as if my thoughts were transparent to her, and used her fingers to brush my matted hair from my forehead.

"Not just yet sweetie..."

Chapter Seven

My 'holiday' left me anything but refreshed and I returned home feeling more uncertain than ever. From a business standpoint it could be counted a success and I had made some useful, and hopefully, profitable contacts.

For the first couple of days back I buried myself in my work and put together a prospect report for the senior partners.

I spent a lot of time thinking about Bryony but it was with mixed feelings. On the one hand it felt as if she had pimped me out but I had picked up the phone of my own volition and the excitement of that evening would live with me for the rest of my life.

I had finally decided that I would move forward and leave it in the past when, out of the blue, she phoned me at work. My heart was beating madly and I had to breathe deeply and calm myself down. The conversation was brief and amounted to an invitation to dinner that same evening.