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Two Can Play Ch. 01

By: J G Parkes



Rachel Dobson was a couple of inches taller than the average size for a woman, with fair hair, blue eyes, pert nose and a mouth that she always felt to be a little too wide. Her figure wasn't bad; slim hips, trim waist and nicely rounded breasts, neither too big nor too small. She was twenty-eight and sometimes felt that life was passing her by while she was caged up behind a counter selling make-up and beauty preparations.

It was Saturday afternoon and the store was packed with shoppers spending their money as if the end of the world was nigh. There was no time for relaxing or thinking her own thoughts. No time, even, for tidying up between one customer and the next. The whole department was looking chaotic and a total mess. Carefully assembled displays had been torn asunder and the various parts scattered around. It was becoming increasingly difficult to find anything.

She longed to be curled up at home, her head on Paul's lap. He was probably glued to his computer right now, surfing the Net or playing his favourite game of Solitaire. It was all a mystery to Rachel and she had no desire to tap away at a computer keyboard. They had very similar tastes in most things, but on computers they begged to differ; she was bored, he was in seventh heaven.

They had been married for nearly ten years, having met when still in their teens. Rachel had trained as a beauty consultant and worked part time in a large city-centre store. Paul was a writer, an unpublished novelist who made a living by penning the words spoken week after interminable week by soap actors.

There had been other boy friends before Paul; at least a couple that counted. Danny Johnson was the first. They'd been going together for a month and were the same age, sweet sixteen. Once a week they went to a disco and once a week to the local cinema complex, a square, unimposing piece of architecture on the outside, but once through the doors eight different screens offered eight different worlds into which the punter could escape.

The young couple tended to ignore the actual film on offer; they were more interested in the auditorium. No. 6 was particularly good for their purpose. Small, dark and with a back row consisting of six seats. There was an aisle at one end, but the other stopped at a solid wall, whilst another wall ran immediately behind. The two far end seats were just perfect, especially when there was little business and customers were scarce. It cost more money to sit there - Premier seats - but Danny was willing to pay the extra cost, keeping his fingers crossed that nobody else would try and bag those seats. Another advantage of them was a larger space between the rows.

Rachel had kissed a few boys previously, though not with any passion. One had even given her breast a squeeze when they stood beneath a tree in the park, but that was on top of a bra, blouse, sweater and coat, so hardly counted. Somehow Danny was different. He stirred something inside her and his open-mouthed, tongue to tongue kisses were exciting.

On their third visit to the cinema they were well isolated from everybody else. Only a dozen all told, the other punters had paid for cheaper seats. The film was - well, what did it matter? Rachel would never remember it anyway. The adverts were barely on the screen before Danny leaned across and began kissing her; long, deep kisses that sent a tingle all through her body. As the main feature credits came onto the screen his hand was cupped over her breast, still enclosed by bra and blouse.

She made no objection when Danny began fiddling with the buttons of her blouse, even helping his fumbling hands, eagerly struggling to get through to the treasures that lay beneath the material. For her part, Rachel could feel a dampness between her legs; she was responding to Danny's kisses and caresses in the same way as she did when fingering her own clitoris.

Having opened her blouse, he moved his lips to the top of her breasts, the only part not covered by her bra. Impatient to move on she pulled it up, releasing the soft, rounded mounds that had been hidden. The flickering light from the screen gave Danny enough of a view of heaven to make him sigh with pleasure. Rachel had to admit she agreed with him. Looking at herself in a mirror was always a pleasurable experience. If that was narcissism, so be it.

She moaned softly as Danny gently nibbled at her nipples, taking each in turn, and squirmed in her seat, automatically opening her legs a little. The dampness had become more pronounced and her panties were feeling wet with her juices. Danny's hand began to explore beneath her skirt whilst his tongue probed, prodded and licked her breasts.

Rachel inwardly groaned as she remembered the tights she'd chosen to put on. Stockings were so much easier; at least, they were as far as having sex was concerned. Tights were a real bind, but she usually wore them and hadn't given it a second thought. The way things were going, she seemed certain to lose her virginity tonight, but she hadn't dressed for such an event. The cinema wasn't the best place, in many respects, and she only hoped there wouldn't be too much bleeding. Boys were so lucky; they didn't have to worry about such things.

A particularly loud noise from the screen drew their attention to it for a few moments, but they were soon back at their own action. The very public place for their performance enhanced the feeling of excitement, adding a frisson of danger. Supposing someone should see!

Danny was fingering her crotch. Having had the blouse and bra to contend with to reach her breasts, he now had to do battle with tights and panties to find her cunt; an infinitely bigger hurdle to pass. 

Rachel decided not to make life too difficult. She stood up, taking Danny by surprise, pulled down the offending garments, then sat on the upturned seat with her legs spread. Luckily Danny wasn't particularly tall and his penis, still locked in his trousers, was about on a level with Rachel's welcoming vagina if he bent his legs a little. Placing his back against the seat in front he unzipped his fly and released a short, thick, hard cock.

It was the first one Rachel had actually seen, and even then, the dim surroundings prevented a real inspection of the strange object that was about to enter her. She tentatively reached out and touched it; could this solid piece of flesh really go into her delicate vagina without causing any damage? It didn't seem possible.

Danny fumbled in his pocket and brought out a small packet. "You don't have one, do you?" he whispered.

"One what?" whispered Rachel.

"A condom."

"Oh." Rachel shook her head. "No."

"Safe sex and all that."

"Of course."

"And no babies."

"No."

Rachel watched as Danny tore the top off the packet and extracted a rubber. "Let me put it on."

"Yeh. Sure."

He handed it over and Rachel wondered why she'd made the suggestion. She looked at it, trying to figure out what to do with the small circle of rubber. How was this supposed to protect anyone?

"Put it on my cock this way." Danny, seeing her uncertainty, guided her hand. "Then roll it along."

"I see."

She did as instructed and Danny sighed. "Oh, you don't know what that does to me."

Rachel imagined it would be a similar feeling to the one she gave herself when fingering her sex. Come to think of it; she suited the action to the thought and began work on her sensitive clitoris.

"Oh, no!" groaned Danny. "I don't think I can hold myself watching you do that."

"Don't waste time then."

Danny leaned in towards her and she could feel the tip of his penis blindly probing for the open lips of her labia. She helped the hard rod to find its target then held her breath as it slowly pushed ever further into the soft, velvet hole. There was a brief stab of pain, making her wince, but then she was aware of nothing but a pulsating warmth.

Danny slid his staff in as far as it would go, then pulled back again, only to push forward once more. He began a rhythm, slowly at first, but gradually becoming faster and faster. Rachel clung tightly to Danny's shoulders, her breath coming in short gasps, as he pumped harder and harder, faster and faster until....!!!

It was all over. Suddenly and without warning, Danny went rigid and Rachel could feel his penis throbbing inside her. He cried out. Rachel was sure his cry must have been loud enough to be heard round the auditorium, but a quick glance showed her that nobody was bothering. It was obvious he had done what he intended to do, but Rachel was left with a feeling of unfinished business. 

Danny relaxed his body. His penis still lay inside Rachel, snug in its warm nest, but already life was draining from it, having dumped the life-giving sperm into the condom. Soon it would be nothing more than a shrivelled, pathetic object utterly incapable of filling a woman's vagina. The condom, once stretched to its limit, was now deflated and almost fell off.

"I'll have to take this to the toilet," Danny whispered, zipping up his pants. "Be back soon."

He left her sitting on the upturned seat, her blouse open, bra pushed up, tights and panties around her ankles. It was over; her first experience and all she felt was deflated. She had just lost her virginity, for God's sake! It was supposed to be one of the highlights of her life. She had read about it in books, seen films and heard her more precocious friends vividly describe the wonderful experience. It had been enjoyable enough, but over too quickly. There was no real spark and she hadn't had a proper orgasm. Maybe the less-than-comfortable circumstances had made it difficult. She hoped so, for if that's all there was, then penetration by a penis was only marginally more exciting than self-masturbation.

The relationship with Danny soon outran its course, but to him fell the honour of being the first and nothing could take that away from him. There were two short relationships, one of them resulting in short, uncomfortable penetrative sex a couple of times, then Paul came into her life.

He was a young, penniless writer, long-haired and scruffily dressed. The two of them met at a party given by a mutual acquaintance and such was the magic between them that they were both naked in an upstairs bedroom before the evening was out.

Rachel just had time to notice that Paul's penis was longer and slimmer than Danny's before it disappeared between her legs. There was no condom, safe sex being far from their minds at the time. It was the first naked penis Rachel had felt inside her and undoubtedly there was a difference. As he thrust in and out she contracted the muscles of her vagina, adding to the thrill created by the rhythmic movement.

There was a great explosion deep in her belly as he came and they both gripped each other tightly, nails digging into flesh. It took her a moment, but then she realised she must have had her first orgasm and it felt wonderful. There was no time to savour the occasion as a waiting list had been drawn up for use of the bed, but it was satisfying enough for them to arrange to do it again.

"In my flat," Paul masterfully declared. "No interruptions and no queue outside the door."

Their relationship moved swiftly. Rachel's parents hated him on sight and did everything in their power to dissuade their daughter from seeing him, but all to no avail. When the young couple decided to marry there was a tremendous argument. Paul was forbidden the house and Rachel ordered to stay away from him.

Just thinking about him as she put yet another store card through the machine was enough to turn Rachel on, a familiar dampness spreading through her loins. If she was home she'd try and divert Paul from the computer, not an easy task. She'd lie across his lap on her back, completely naked, and begin to caress her breasts. Slowly her hands would explore her body, gradually moving down, over her mons and to the labia. Beneath her she'd feel the uncontrolled hardening of his penis reacting to the display she was giving. Spreading her legs wide she would gently finger her clitoris and then......

"How much longer are you going to take?" The customer's sharp voice snatched Rachel away from her day-dream.

Oh, if only she was at home.

*****

Paul Dobson and Steve Granger had known each other all their lives. They'd lived a few doors from each other since birth, had played together, been invited to the same parties as children, attended the same schools and known the same girls. Steve had married Carol, a dark-haired, curvaceous, sexy young woman whom he'd met at college where he'd been studying to be an engineer. Their relationship was lustful rather than romantic and when Steve was sent to Saudi Arabia to work on a dam.....

"Or a reservoir," Carol sighed to Paul. "I'm not sure which."

"Is there a difference?"

"Probably not. All I know is, he's only been away a month and I miss him like hell."

"How long's he going to be away?"

Carol shrugged. "Two years at least. Maybe more. It's all a bit airy fairy. Of course, he gets leave. Every six months for a month. It doesn't do much for married life, I can tell you."

Carol sighed again and Paul patted her hand in a gesture of consolation. She had come round to the cottage with a music centre that needed repairing.

"I know these days it's very unfeminist, but I'm hopeless at that kind of thing."

"What's wrong with it?"

"It won't work," Carol wailed.

"Is there power going in?"

"How would I know?"

Paul pointed to the music centre. "This little red light comes on."

"Yes....no....Oh, I don't know."

Paul plugged it in and nothing happened. "Probably a fuse."

"Can you do anything with it or do I have to get another?"

"A fuse, my dear Carol, is a two minute job. Watch."

The fuse was changed, the music centre worked and Carol was delighted. 

"You've saved my life." She gave him a peck on the cheek. "I take it Rachel's out."

"Um." Paul nodded. "Trying to make some God-awful, over-aged, overweight harridan look beautiful."

Carol looked in a mirror and ran her fingers over her face. "I could do with some help myself."

Paul laughed. "Nonsense. There isn't a single wrinkle, ounce of fat or blemish on your body, except for the birthmark."

"How do you know about that?" Carol's voice was soft and silky. "You haven't seen my body."

"When we've been swimming or sun bathing."

"I always had a costume on."

Paul was blushing. "Yes, but it didn't hide much."

"Only the best parts. The birthmark is in my pubic area."

"Oh."

"Did Steve tell you about it?"

"Well....he may have mentioned it."

Carol smiled. "So you talk about my most intimate parts. I ought to be indignant, but I find it quite amusing. Did you tell him about Rachel's bits and pieces?"

"I...erm...."

"Of course you did. And the secrets of the bedroom?"

"Carol, I...."

"Two little boys telling each other how well they perform. I can vouch for Steve."

They gazed at each other for a moment, then Paul grabbed her hand, hauled her up and laid her over the back of an armchair. Lifting her skirt up to her waist he exposed her bottom covered by a delicate pair of panties which he ripped off.

"They were my best pair," wailed Carol.

"Shut up, bitch!"

"Oh yes!" she cried. "I love a bit of rough."

"I know. Steve told me."

Holding her down with one hand - not that she was struggling too much - he unfastened his trousers and pulled them clear of his penis. They dropped around his ankles.

"Are you going to rape me, Paul? Oh, please." 

"I don't know whether you're begging me to stop or carry on, but either way, you're going to get what's coming to you."

"I want to see your cock."

"Not until it's come out of your cunt coated with your vaginal juices and my spunk."

Holding her straddled over the chair with his left hand, he used his right on her clitoris, rapidly rubbing the hard little bud. At the same time, his rampant penis was pressed along the crack between her buttocks. Carol clung hard to the arms of the chair, her fingers digging into the fabric.

"So you like Steve's cock, eh?" Paul put two fingers into her vagina and she squealed. "Let me tell you something. When we were teenagers we used to compare them, getting the tape measure out every month. Mine was bigger. You'll soon find out if that's still the case."

"No, no!" Carol cried. "He's your friend. You wouldn't be so rotten as to stick your cock up his wife's cunt."

"Oh, wouldn't I? Just watch me."

"I can't from this position."

"No, but you'll bloody feel it."

With that he savagely pushed his erection between the lips of her vagina and entered that most secret chamber. Carol screamed.

"Quiet, bitch, or I'll have to thrash you. You've been asking for this ever since you got here. And I don't believe you can't change a stupid bloody fuse. You just wanted an excuse to come here." He pumped faster and faster. "I planned to watch football on the tele and you're making me miss it. I don't appreciate that. You'll pay for it, threefold."

His finger was still working furiously on her clitoris, even as his penis drove harder into her vagina, touching against the wall of her womb. A waterfall of her juices cascaded down her thighs and calves. Her pubic area was afire as it rubbed against the back of the chair with the action of the pumping penis. She writhed, groaned and squealed, but Paul held her down and kept driving into her.

Suddenly he slammed hard all the way, gripped her tightly round the waist and stayed still and rigid. The cock inside her vagina trembled and throbbed, then emptied itself of sperm.

"Aaaaaa!" A long, loud screech announced her simultaneous orgasm.

Paul fell limply on top of her, gasping and shuddering with the impact of his climax. His penis was still hard, relishing the silky warmth of her vagina, but slowly, its job done, the membrane began to contract.

They lay over the back of the armchair for a couple of minutes, their breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, gradually slowing and becoming deeper. Paul's penis rolled itself up, retreating from the hole it had so recently filled. When he finally pulled out there was a thin, glistening coating of vaginal juices still clinging to it.

He stood back and looked at the woman still bent over the chair. She began to straighten up, but he pushed her down again.

"Stay where you are, bitch. You made me finish too soon. I wasn't ready."

"I didn't do anything," Carol protested.

"Yes, you did."

"What? What did I do?"

"Concentrated on your own orgasm instead of pacing it together to make sure I could stay inside as long as possible. Now look what you've done." Gripping her by the neck, he pulled her up, turning her face to look at his genitals. "That was a magnificent fighting cock, but you've drained it of everything. Emptied it of all life and energy to satisfy your own selfish desires."

Carol giggled. "It doesn't look much, does it?"

"Don't you laugh, bitch. You're going to pay for this."

He pushed her down again and held her. Reaching down with his right hand he pulled the belt out of his trousers and doubled it over.

"What are you going to do?" Carol tremulously asked.

"Teach you a lesson you won't forget."

The leather belt whacked down onto her bare bottom and she cried out at the stinging pain. A thin red welt cut across both buttocks. The instrument of punishment cracked down again, producing another scream and an accompanying mark on the soft skin.

Paul repeated the action a dozen times, by which time both arms were aching, one with the effort of holding down his victim, and the other with the action of wielding the belt. He stepped away, releasing his hold on Carol, but she stayed in the prone position for a few moments trying to recover from the stinging pain. Her bottom was criss-crossed with red marks.


Two Can Play Ch. 01



When she finally straightened up and turned to look at her tormentor she saw his penis, hardened once more.

"Now look what you've done, bitch. What am I supposed to do with this?"

Carol rubbed her tender bottom. "No idea. I'm too sore to help."

"You've got a mouth, haven't you?" Paul's voice was harsh.

Carol nodded.

"Then use it."

Paul pushed Carol down on her knees and thrust his penis towards her. She licked along its length, pulled back the foreskin, and put the tip of her tongue into his glans.

"All of it, bitch! Take all of it in your mouth. I want you to bring me off and take my spunk down your throat. Swallow it all."

Carol lightly gripped the base of the penis as she put it into her mouth and began to suck. She could feel it growing even bigger as she worked at it. He threw his head back and moaned at the pleasurable sensations emanating from his genitals.

"Oh, God! You're bloody good. I knew you would be. Steve told me. Just listening to his description at what you can do gave me a hard-on. Now, here I am, having it away with you."

Carol gave a muffled reply, made unintelligible by the penis stuffed in her mouth. It was hitting the back of her throat making her close to gagging. Her bottom, swollen and red after the beating, still stung. She and Steve had occasionally ventured into sado-masochism and he must have told his friend. She sucked. He moaned louder. 

"I'm coming!" Paul cried out, promptly suiting his actions to his words. Carol's mouth was filled with frothing, creamy semen. She hastily swallowed, but it still overflowed down her chin. He pulled his penis out. It was still squirting out the life-giving force, which splattered onto her nose and cheeks.

It was then that the door opened and Rachel stood there, a cheerful greeting frozen on her lips as she took in the scene. The lovers quickly pulled apart, but there was nothing they could do to pretend that things were not as they seemed. A long moment of total inactivity was followed by the slamming of the front door as Rachel grimly marched through the living room, banging the bedroom door behind her. There seemed nothing to do except silently dress.

"Sorry," murmured Carol as she left.

Paul took a few moments to get control of himself and try to work out the best fence-making approach. Denial was impossible; excuses feeble. He would have to throw himself on her mercy and apologise for being such a stupid fool. It was an accident; she came round because her music centre had broken and she couldn't fix it. Who better to ask than Steve's best friend? She was feeling miserable and he began by trying to console Carol for her husband's long absence. Things got out of hand; they were having a quiet drink, that's all and... and......it got out of hand.

Paul covered his face with his hands and shook his head. What a terrible story. True, in many ways, but all the same...

The bedroom door opened and a tearful Rachel walked out carrying a case and a couple of bags. She threw some keys on the settee.

"I won't need these any more."

"Darling....."

"I don't want to hear. They say pictures speak louder than words, and I sure as hell got a great picture."

"She was lonely." God, that was pathetic and Paul knew it. "Steve's away in Saudi Arabia and...."

"And the bitch cast her lustful eyes on you. Is that it?"

"Well....something like that."

"And of course, you were helpless to resist her charms. Or was it her cunt?"

"Darling..."

"To think that I rushed home because I needed you inside me. Me, you bastard, not that skinny, overdone tart. Now I know where I stand."

She marched to the door; at least, she tried to make a dignified and haughty exit, but the bags were too much of a hindrance and she tripped slightly.

"Where are you going?" asked Paul.

"Far away from you."

Rachel struggled to open the door with the bags clutched in her hands.

"Oh, damn!" 

She dropped them to the floor with a thud and collapsed in a flood of tears. Paul fell to his knees by her side and hugged her tight.

"Darling, darling, darling."

"How could you?"

"I was stupid and fell for a femme fatale."

"So it was all Carol's fault?"

"No, no....I didn't mean it like that. My fault, too, of course it was. A moment of weakness. An attractive woman in some emotional distress...."

"You think she's attractive?"

"Well....I suppose I do."

"More attractive than me?"

Paul shook his head. "No comparison. She's too skinny, you're quite right. And she uses more makeup than I like. I've no excuse. I can only say I'm sorry and beg you not to wipe away ten years of marriage just like that."

"It's you who wiped them away," Rachel sobbed. "I might be able to forgive you, but I can never forget. Never."

Paul was sent packing into the spare room that night, but he went quietly, making no objection, realising that he had blotted his copybook. She would come round eventually, he was certain of that.

*****

Steve was home for his month's leave and enjoying an evening out with his wife and friends. They were sitting in an alcove in their favourite bar and he had been talking about the restrictive life in Saudi Arabia.

"If it wasn't for the good money and career experience I wouldn't stick it. God, how I miss being able to fuck a good woman."

Slightly shocked at such crudity being used in mixed company, Rachel looked at Carol. "Your husband obviously has a high opinion of you."

"Oh, he's not talking about me."

"You're included, darling." Steve patted her hand.

Rachel was puzzled. "I don't understand."

Carol smiled. "It's quite simple. We don't restrict ourselves to each other. If Steve fancies another woman, or I've got a hankering for a different man, we don't have any scruples about fucking them."

"No, you don't." Rachel was not amused by the bald statement. "What about honour, faithfulness, the sanctity of marriage?"

"Oh, that." Carol shrugged. "We don't believe in it." She glanced at Paul. "What about you?"

He felt his cheeks begin to burn. "Ah, well...."

"I do," Rachel firmly declared.

Carol raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yes. We took our vows and we should stick to them."

"Interesting." Carol had a little secret smile. "Don't you think so, darling?" This was addressed to her husband.

"Definitely," Steve agreed. "Monogamy is not a word I recognise."

"It means...." Carol affected a yawn...."boring.

"There's nothing boring about two people loving each other." Rachel had the vague feeling that she sounded prim and proper, which was far from being true. After all, hadn't her first experience been in a cinema - a public place? Her parents certainly would have thought that most improper.

"We love each other very much," said Steve. "We're as miserable as hell when apart and we have good sex together. But it doesn't have to be exclusive. Sometimes I see a woman or Carol sees a man that we fancy."

"A one night stand," Carol chipped in. "We're not talking about romance or involvement, just plain old-fashioned sex."

"Can you separate love and sex?"

"Of course." It was Paul making the involuntary reply.

Rachel looked at him. "I might have expected you to agree."

"You know that's how I feel. I've not kept it a secret."

Carol laughed. "Of course he agrees, darling. You should have realised that when you caught him with his pants down and his cock in my mouth." Rachel looked surprised. "Oh, don't worry. Steve knows all about it. We tell each other everything. No secrets."

"I'm sure you do."

"Oo, Miss Goody Two Shoes." Carol shook her head. "Tell me, truthfully. In the ten years you've been married have you ever had another man?"

"Of course not." Rachel was indignant.

"Or even thought about it?"

"Well..."

"Ah-ha! You have."

Paul was surprised. "Really?"

"No, not really. As a fantasy, that's all."

Carol looked at her. "Anyone in particular?"

"No." Blushing a deep red, Rachel shook her head. "Nobody. I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind."

Steve grinned. "You have an unknown rival, Paul."

"Nothing of the sort." Rachel glowered at him. "I was fantasising in general, that's all."

"The first sign," Steve intoned.

"First sign of what?"

"Wanting a different cock inside you."

"You have a vivid imagination."

"No, no," Paul shook his head. "I think Steve could be right."

"He's not," snapped Rachel. "And if he was, I think you'd be a very angry man."

"Oh, I don't know."

"Are you seriously saying you wouldn't mind if I went to bed with another man?"

"Or even a woman."

Rachel stood up, violently pushing her chair back. It fell over with a clatter. "You bastard." 

She slapped Paul hard. All conversation in the bar had stopped as she marched out.

"Oh, dear," Carol murmured.

"I think we went too far," said Steve.

"Yes," agreed Paul. "We'd better talk about something else when she comes back."

But Rachel failed to return. After waiting twenty minutes, Carol checked the toilets. There was no sign of the distraught woman. Paul returned home, fully expecting his wife to be there, but the house was empty and dark. He phoned around some friends and acquaintances, but drew a blank. Nobody had seen her. She had completely disappeared.



Two Can Play Ch. 02



Rachel had no intention of going back. Angered by her husband's total lack of concern for her or her feelings, she could think of nothing but escape. Where to, exactly, she had no idea, so she repaired to the ladies' powder room and locked herself into a cubicle. 

She made a great effort to control herself, but it was no good. Her tear ducts opened and soon she was sobbing prodigiously. She was still crying when there was a knock on the door. No doubt it was that bitch Carol pretending to be concerned.

"Go away."

"He's not worth it."

It took a few moments before Rachel realised it was the voice of someone other than Carol. 

"Please leave me alone."

"I'm right, aren't I?" the voice continued. "It's a feller brought on this misery."

"Yes," Rachel miserably admitted..

"Thrown you out, has he?"

"No. I - I walked out."

"Ran more like."

"Um," Rachel agreed with a sniff.

"Yeh, I know all about it. I've been there myself. But never again. Believe me, never again. I make sure I call the shots. It's very awkward talking through a door. Won't you come out?"

Rachel debated for a moment. It was a kind voice; full of sympathy and understanding. She unlatched the door, opened it and stepped out of the cubicle. Through her tear-blurred eyes she saw the image of a woman a few years older than herself.

"I'm Kate Turner." 

She held out her hand and Rachel took it. "Pleased to meet you."

"Have you somewhere to go now you've ditched your true love."

Rachel shook her head. "Nowhere." She sounded pathetic and helpless.

"I've got room in my place if you don't mind roughing it on a studio couch."

"I couldn't."

"You'd rather rough it on a park bench?"

"No....no, I mean, put you to so much trouble."

"Aw, that's nothing. I'm used to taking in strays. I can tide you over till you sort yourself out."

"You don't know anything about me."

"Same goes for you, but if you're willing to take a chance, I'm game as well."

Rachel managed a small smile. "That's very kind of you."

"I'll enjoy the company."

"I....I haven't any clothes or anything."

"Orphan in the storm, eh? I'm sure I can find you something. We're about the same size, though you're a bit taller, I think."

Rachel looked at her bag, which she had automatically plucked up when leaving. "I have my credit card." She managed a wan smile.

"Then you'll be able to buy something tomorrow."

"Yes."

"Come on. Let's get out of here. My car's round the corner."

"What do you do?" Rachel enquired, as they drove away.

"Auditor for a commercial radio station. Trends Radio." Kate pulled a face. "I know, I know. Not a very popular person. About the level of Inland Revenue, and a touch above traffic warden. But I'm good at figures and somebody's got to do it."

A ten minute journey through light traffic took them to a small, untidy flat above a shop. There was one bedroom, kitchen, bathroom and a general living room with an array of paper-back books, CDs and tapes piled in the corners or spilling from tables and chairs. DVDs were stacked on top of a TV and a large studio couch, the most prominent piece of furniture in the room, was generously covered with feminine clothes casually thrown down.

"Sorry about the mess." Kate grimaced. "I didn't realise it was quite as bad as this."

"It looks...." Rachel tried to find the right words.

"A tip," suggested Kate.

"Lived in."

The owner looked around. "Um. You could say that, I suppose. Anyway, let's put the kettle on. You could do with a coffee. Unless you prefer something stronger."

"No, no, coffee's great."

"Good job. I don't have much booze in. I go out for that. And for the men."

She disappeared into the kitchen leaving her guest slightly bewildered by the turn of events. Kate had come across on their initial meeting as a man-hater; in fact, the thought had struck Rachel that her host was a lesbian, which made her wonder what she thought about that. She dismissed it as not being important in the circumstances and if there was a bridge to be crossed, she'd wait until it was in front of her. The last remark made Rachel completely revise her ideas.

The coffee was strong and a little bitter for her taste, but she gratefully drank it down as she poured out her story.

"You've been married to the bastard for ten years?" Kate was sitting cross-legged on the floor, with Rachel curled up on the studio couch, now swept clean of clothes.

"Yes."

"I didn't think that was possible."

"I was in love and happy. I thought Paul felt the same."

"You certainly found out the truth the hard way." Kate sounded grim. "With your friend, too."

"Carol isn't my friend. We have nothing in common, but she's married to my husband's best friend, so we had to mix."

"Too much, by the sound of it. Bet it wasn't the first time, either."

"You don't think so?"

"First time he was caught, that's all."

"Oh." Rachel looked crestfallen.

"Now it's your turn."

"What do you mean?"

"You've got to get up to date. This is the age of women's empowerment. You'd barely begun leading your own life when you fell into a mantrap. Ten years wasted." Kate shook her head.

"What should I have done?" asked Rachel.

"Found your own place and enjoyed yourself with no ties and no responsibilities. Ever since time began men have been playing the field, having it all their own way, but now it's our turn. Go out, mix with the fellers and make your choice. One night stands. Nothing longer or you're in trouble."

"One night!" Rachel exclaimed. "But what if I really like him and want to see him again?"

"Mistake. Stay loose. Don't let them tie you down. That's what the bastards want. Once they've done it and you're running around after them, they're off to someone new. One night because you want to and then leave it. There's plenty more fish in the sea - more than you can ever take. You're attractive and you've got style. Make the most of it."

Rachel tossed and turned that night, finding sleep elusive. She had rarely slept by herself in the ten years of marriage and it was difficult to settle in a strange flat with no-one beside her. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but her body was missing Paul. Her clitoris was crying out for arousal and a dampness between her legs betrayed the need for satisfaction.

Using both hands she pulled the lips of her vagina apart, the middle finger of one rubbing her clitoris, whilst the middle finger of the other plunged into the wet and silky warmth of her pussy. Bending her knees she opened her legs as wide as they would go imagining that a multitude of eyes were gazing down on her as she masturbated. She could feel her breasts, swollen with desire, pushing against the material of her nightdress. The juices of her arousal flowed out of her vagina.

Her whole body was shaking and shivering, the uneven springs of the studio couch poking and prodding with every move. She rubbed her clitoris ever more vigorously and inserted two fingers into the hole that longed to be filled by a penis. Paul's or would any do?

She tried to imagine what it would be like having sex with a man she didn't know. Kate was adamant she shouldn't get in too deep; avoid feeling at all cost.

"Except lust, of course. You want to have his hands all over your body and his penis inside you or it's no good. The big O is what you're after."

"The big O?" Rachel was mystified.

"Orgasm."

"Oh, of course."

"That's what it's all about. Too many fellers push it in, flood your cunt and think they've done a good job. Then they expect to do it again the next night or whenever they fancy. But not with me, they don't. And, if you put your mind to it, not with you."

Rachel brought herself to a climax, but it wasn't enough; she was still left with a feeling of need. Need for a big, hard cock that would stretch the walls of her vagina and reach up to her womb. A dildo caught her eye. It was lying on a table close-by; she only had to reach out and take it. It was put there by Kate. 

"Just in case," she said. "Not as satisfying as a man's penis, but maybe better than nothing."

Rachel hesitated. Inserting a phallic object was not a practice she had indulged in before. She was uncertain about the wisdom of doing so. Would it hurt or satisfy? Dammit! She longed for Paul to be inside her, but he had relinquished his right to enjoy the pleasure. A picture of Carol, her bottom bared, love slit open and Paul's penis entering it kept floating into Rachel's mind. She could forgive many things, but not betrayal; never that.

Shutting her eyes tight, she took the dildo and tentatively pushed it against the lips of her vagina. They opened to receive the unfamiliar object. It was cold and hard in a way that bore no resemblance to the male member. Was it possible to get satisfaction from its intrusion? Could it really give her an orgasm? She pushed it deeper, wincing slightly at its unyielding edge rubbing along the soft and delicate walls of her vagina. It was a momentary discomfort, quickly replaced by sensations of pleasure.

Confidence replacing temerity, Rachel began to thrust the dildo back and forth, gradually achieving a steady rhythm. At the same time, her finger diligently worked on her clitoris, sending waves of sheer delight spreading through her body. Her breathing quickened, juices flowed and nipples distended. Faster and faster she drove the phallic object; deeper and deeper it penetrated her secret chamber.

Suddenly she was rigid, her body almost lifted clear of the mattress, supported only by her shoulders and feet. Then she fell back with a low cry as the orgasm flowed away from her. The muscles of her vagina, tightened around the dildo, relaxed their hold and she slowly pulled it out. Still clutching the dildo to her, she curled up in the foetus position and drifted off to sleep.

*****

It was a very different Rachel who stepped into a trendy bar the following night. Carol had made her feel old-married, dowdy and unattractive. Maybe that was the reason for Paul falling for the other woman's seductive charms. She obviously had no scruples and did everything she could to waylay men. Well, two could play at that game.

Freshly styled and groomed, Rachel wore a new dress that hugged every one of her curves, but covered only a small part of her legs. With a neckline that revealed almost more than it concealed, the whole effect was undeniably eye-catching.

"Everyone will look at me," Rachel complained to Kate as she studied herself in a full length mirror.

"That's the idea."

"I've never worn anything as daring as this. I don't think I can. I'll be too embarrassed."

"Nonsense. You look absolutely wonderful. A knockout, and that's the reason you'll draw the stares."

Kate was right. Rachel was aware of all conversation almost dying away to nothing as she walked in; all eyes were on her, bringing a flush to her cheeks and a frisson of excitement between her legs. It was easy to imagine all the men in the bar appraising her and wondering what chance they might have of scoring. It also took little imagination to realise how the women were feeling when confronted by such competition.

The two girls joined two others at a table. One, tall, very slim and russet-haired, introduced herself as Cherie.

"No, not that one." 

They all laughed.

"And I'm Beverley," said the other, her most remarkable feature being breasts that out-Monroed Monroe. She was also a golden blond with red gashes for lips.

"Rachel's a new recruit to the One-Nighters," Kate announced.

"Welcome aboard," said Cherie. "I suppose, like us, you've suffered?"

"Ten years!" exclaimed Kate. "Ten years married to one man and then he two-timed her."

"Not for the first time, I shouldn't wonder," growled Beverley.

"Exactly what I said." Kate patted Rachel's hand. "You're in good company here. We've all been there and we've all done something about it. Now it's your turn."

Rachel was uncertain what was expected of her, but drinks were ordered and the four of them chatted on about their experiences, their jobs, hopes and ambitions. Every so often the talk would stop whilst they made a joint survey of the men in the room; at any rate, those who were unaccompanied by a woman. They were given marks out of ten for looks, grooming, smile-factor....

"Smiling is very important," said Cherie. "For women, too."

....and sexual potential.

"How can you do that when you're not even talking to them?" enquired Rachel.

"Difficult, but not impossible." Kate pointed to a dark-haired man in a party of six a few tables away. "Look at the fluidity of his movement, the strong gestures and the animation of his face when he's talking to his friends. It could mean a lot."

"Or nothing," Beverley glumly added. 

Kate shrugged. "Or nothing."

Cherie suddenly gave a little squeal of excitement.

"What is it?" asked Beverley.

"Over there...over there." Cherie pointed.

"Try not to be so obvious, dear," chided Kate.

"Who is it?" asked Rachel.

"Matt Hudson."

Beverley peered at the man in question. "Who's he when he's at home?"

"The footballer. He's in town for the big match tomorrow. Surely you've read about him splitting from his girl friend? Their on-off romance has been in the papers for weeks."

"Oh, him."

"I'm going to give him a try." Cherie stood up.

"I thought footballers were supposed to stay off drink and women the night before a match," said Kate.

Cherie grinned. "It looks like Mr. Hudson doesn't mind bending the rules."

She headed off across the room.

"Hi." Her greeting was bright and her smile broad, but neither dispelled the air of gloom which hung over the footballer, almost thick enough to be a cloud.

"Hello." His reply was desultory and his eyes remained firmly fixed on the glass which he was twisting round and round on the counter.

"Working out tactics for tomorrow?" Cherie remained bright and undaunted despite his poor response.

"No."

"Ah." A slight pause. "All alone?"

"Yes."

"Mind if I join you?"

"This is not a good time."

Cherie was losing her confidence. "Before a match, you mean."

"If you like." He still didn't look at her.

She gave up. "Nice talking to you."

"Yeh."

Her progress back to her friends was slower and more dejected.

"Brush off, eh?" Beverley was grinning.

"He seemed more interested in his glass than me." Cherie resumed her seat.

"Drowning his sorrows in drink," suggested Kate.

"I wonder if Paul's doing the same." Rachel wore a little furrowed frown.

"Don't even think about him." Kate's voice was sharp.

"He's drinking orange," Cherie glumly informed them.

"So he prefers not to break the rules." Beverley emptied her glass. "I think we're due another."

"Wait." Kate stopped her. "Desperate measures are called for here. Rachel is starting to feel sorry for her two-timing husband. She needs action and I believe our footballer can provide it."

Cherie spread her hands. "I've already tried. Zilch."

Kate dismissed her protest. "The chemistry was wrong, but I have a feeling about Rachel. In that dress she can do anything. The guy needs taking out of himself and so does she. I think they could do wonders for each other." She turned to her newest friend. "What do you think?"

"As Cherie said...."

"Never mind her. Do you fancy him?"

"He looks...."

"Well?"

"Yes...fanciable."

"Are your knickers getting damp when you look at him?" asked Beverley.

Rachel shook her head. "To be honest - no."

"There's no point in this," exploded Cherie. "The man's not interested, no matter what Rachel feels about it."

Kate put her hand on Rachel's arm. "Over there is a big hurdle for you to climb over."

"I thought you were supposed to jump over a hurdle," interjected Cherie.

Kate ignored the interruption. "If you can make this one you're home and free. Paul will be out of your system for ever and that's exactly where he should be."

"I'm not sure I want him out of my system." Rachel sounded slightly pathetic. "I love him."

"More fool you. All right. You don't need to get him out of your system, but you do need to play him at his own game. Don't be a willing doormat and let him walk all over you."

Rachel gazed across at the footballer. "Matt Hudson, you said."

"That's right." Cherie looked distinctly peeved.

Rachel drained her glass, slowly stood up, grabbed Kate's glass, emptied it and moved towards the bar.

"That's a girl," crowed Kate.

There was a vacant stool next to Matt Hudson and Rachel perched on it whilst she ordered a pink gin. The footballer took no notice of the new arrival, but continued staring at the glass in front of him. When the barman brought her drink, Rachel fumbled in her bag for money. Nervousness had tied her stomach in knots; there was a strange lack of co-ordination between her brain and fingers. The bag fell, tipping its contents all over the counter. A lipstick rolled along and hit Matt's glass with a small ping.

"Sorry." Rachel managed a tentative smile. "There's so much stuff crammed into this bag. Something is always falling out. Typical woman, I suppose."

"Um." Matt handed back the lipstick, barely glancing at her.

There was a short pause while she looked around. "This is a great place, isn't it?"

"I suppose."

"Do you come here often?"

He looked at her. "That's supposed to be the man's line."

"Is it?" A nervous laugh. "Haven't you heard the latest news? Women are equal; we can speak and do the same as men."

"Yes, I've noticed." 

Matt sounded grim and Rachel felt extremely foolish. What made her think she was seductive enough to pick up a man? In desperation she looked round at Kate seeking some kind of help or instruction. A few vague pushing gestures, which could mean anything or nothing, were all the help forthcoming.

Rachel took a large sip from her pink gin. "This is my first time here."

"Mine too. I don't live here."

"Oh, really?"

"I'm here for the match tomorrow."

"Match?"

"Football."

"Oh."

"I'm Matt Hudson." He said the name as if he fully expected instant recognition. None was forthcoming. "Obviously you don't follow football."

Rachel shook her head. "Not at all," she said, taking another sip of gin. "I don't get much thrill out of watching twenty-two men chasing around after a ball trying to kick it into each other's goal."

Matt eyed her up and down and liked what he saw. Her legs were slightly apart and the short dress rode high on her thighs making it almost possible to glimpse her most secret part. The top half was equally exposed to his gaze with more than half her breasts bare of cover. Her nipples were pushing against the taut, thin material of her dress. 

Rachel was aware of his gaze and had a pretty good idea how much he could see. It was obvious she had finally caught his interest and now the actress - she had been a leading light in school plays - came to the fore. She looked at him through half hooded eyes, her finger idly stirring the liquid in her glass. It was a seduction technique she had seen used in a film. 

"Do you think you'll score tomorrow?"

"Hope so."

"You could even score tonight." Rachel put her finger into her mouth and gently sucked it dry of the alcohol. That was in the film, too.

"Are you offering to be the goal?"

"Tomorrow you'll have a ball to put into a net; tonight you've got a prick to fill my hole."

Rachel could hardly believe she had said that and felt a strong desire to giggle at the inanity of her dialogue. Matt, however, was obviously taken by the thought and was unable to stop staring at the part of her anatomy so blatantly offered. Not that he could actually see it, but his imagination took over from where his view stopped.

Matt swallowed. "No drink or women the night before a big match." He repeated the mantra in a voice hoarse with desire.




Two Can Play Ch. 02



Rachel indicated his glass of orange. "You've gone half way there. Isn't that enough?"

By now totally emboldened by a combination of drink and her unexpected success as a femme fatale, Rachel traced a wavy line with her finger along his thigh, working up towards his crotch. His hand suddenly trapped hers.

"Your place or mine?"

"Where's yours?"

"Heritage Hotel round the corner."

"Yours."

They entered the hotel separately, Rachel following Matt after an interval of five minutes. On the way out of the bar she had looked triumphantly at her new friends, giving them a thumbs up. Kate's response was silent applause, whilst the other two looked less than delighted.

Matt had given her his room number with the instruction to walk past reception looking neither to right nor left as if confident of her whereabouts. He was on the third floor, but she had to take the lift up to the fourth, then walk down a flight. All of this was accomplished without a hitch and nobody saw as she quietly slipped through Matt's door, which had been left just off the catch.

The room was tastefully furnished with matching bed cover and curtains, a dressing table, coffee table and two chairs, bedside tables with lamps and a built-in shelf holding tea and coffee making facilities. A TV was fastened to the wall on a bracket.

"A double bed," remarked Rachel. "How convenient especially for someone who's not supposed to have sex the night before a big match."

"It's a condition of my contract. I get a bigger room and I also like plenty of space for sleeping. To spread out."

Rachel slowly walked towards him, dropping her bag on the floor and reaching behind her for the zip on her dress.

"I'd like to see you spread out and naked," she purred. This was all easier than she had imagined and thought she was doing rather well. The zip ran smoothly down and in one movement she stepped out of the dress. She was left wearing the briefest of bra and pants, suspender belt and stockings; all black, of course. The effect on Matt was most gratifying as witnessed by the bulge in his trousers.

Rachel kneeled down in front of him. "Let's not keep this poor thing confined any longer."

She unfastened his belt, pulled down the zip on his flies and lowered his trousers. A neat pair of shorts still hid his penis from view, though it was straining to find freedom.

"Step out," she instructed.

He did so and Rachel threw the trousers onto a chair. She then pulled down his shorts and he automatically stepped out of them without speaking a word; he seemed to be mesmerised.

"That's better," cooed Rachel. "Now I can see the ball, but I doubt whether I'll be able to prevent it going in."

She ran her fingers up and down its silky length and gazed at the taut muscles and stretched skin. It was delightfully hard. Rachel delicately ran her tongue around the head of the penis. He moaned.

She looked up. "I'm sorry, am I hurting you?"

"No, for God's sake, no. But I'm not going to be able to hold it much longer if you keep doing that."

"You want me to stop?"

"No....yes....I don't know."

"Are you saying my tackle is likely to prevent a goal?"

"Exactly," Matt sighed.

"In that case, I'll stop." Rachel gave a quick kiss to the penis and stood up. "Maybe we should have a cooling-off period." 

She sat in a chair.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"I didn't learn anything; it comes naturally. Was it good?"

"Bloody good." Matt sank down onto the bed. "Andrea didn't do it as well as that."

"Andrea?"

"My girl....ex-girl-friend. She reluctantly fumbled around with little effect. Whilst you....."

"Yes?"

"I was coming-off almost as soon as you touched me. Then you used your tongue and....I couldn't stand it."

Rachel smiled with pleasure, but also felt a glow of embarrassment on her cheeks at such unstinted praise from a stranger. 

Without making a display of it, Rachel unclipped her suspenders, pulled off her stockings and unfastened the belt. She then removed the bra, lay back on the bed with her legs over the end and wriggled out of her pants. There were a few moments of silent tension, neither one daring to make a move, but each wanting to resume the game. Some of the strength had left Matt's penis, but it still jutted out quite firmly. He slowly pulled himself out of the chair, dropped to the floor on all fours and crawled towards the foot of the bed where Rachel's legs were parted, revealing her vulva.

The lips were thickened, suffused with a reddish glow and wet with desire and anticipation. Matt gently kissed each of the parted lips then inserted his tongue into the vagina. Rachel gave a little shudder of pleasure. She began to caress her breasts, then rolled her nipples between two fingers, raising them into two hard peaks.

Matt kissed the vulva lips again, then began to move up her body with a whole series of kisses until he had taken possession of her nipples. She could feel his penis nestling along her vulva and pressing against her clitoris. He began to move up and down, stimulating that most sensitive spot, and a thousand pin pricks of desire erupted all through Rachel's body, from her toes to the top of her head. Even her scalp seemed to be alive with electricity.

She lifted her legs up onto Matt's shoulders and clasped them together behind his neck. His penis, rock hard once more, found the entrance to her vagina and slipped in of its own accord, diving as far as it could. The male member was not particularly long, but its thickness more than compensated for the lack of inches. It rubbed along the delicate membrane sending wave after wave of heavenly convulsions along every nerve making them tingle with excitement.

Rachel tightly gripped Matt's arms as he pumped ever more rapidly feeling every fibre of her being awash with marvellous sensations. She rolled her head from side to side and moaned with the sheer pleasure emanating from her genitalia. Suddenly Matt gasped and went rigid, his penis fully inserted, but now motionless as his sperm ejaculated into the warmth of the vagina.

Rachel gasped and grimaced, as if in pain, at the intense pleasure. She dug her nails into Matt's back and hugged him tightly to her breasts which seemed enlarged and extra sensitive to the touch.

They lay there for a couple of minutes relishing the after glow of successful copulation. Its job done and all force spent the penis inside her began to soften. Rachel's body was stimulated, aware of every little movement and diffused with warmth, created by passion rather than the heat of the room. Her eyes were glazed and her breath came in a rapid series of gasps, gradually steadying as she returned to earth from cloud seven.

She briefly thought of Paul and what a pity it was that he hadn't been there to witness her reaction to another lover. The experience had been so satisfying it was a shame that this was a one night stand, but that was the name of the game; no involvement. She had to stick by the rules. On the other hand, the night was young and once was not enough. 

Kate was right. There were plenty of fish in the sea ready and willing to be caught. Tonight she had proved herself to be very good at fishing. 



Two Can Play Ch. 03



Rachel returned to the marital bed with renewed vigour, but the rules had been changed. 

"You can have me on condition that we have an open marriage."

"Like Carol and Steve?"

"Exactly."

"We play away from home as much as we like?"

"Yes. If either one of us fancies somebody else, we're free to indulge our fancy."

"One night stands only?"

"Of course. Anything more would pose a real threat to our marriage and I wouldn't like that to happen."

"Neither would I." Paul hesitated. "Erm...do we....er...tell each other? You know, talk about who we were with and what they were like and how we felt - that sort of thing."

Rachel frowned. "I'm not sure about that." She had no intention of telling him about Matt Hudson.

"It adds to the spice. And it means there's no secrets to come between us."

Rachel nodded. "That's true. We'll try it and see how it goes. If either of us feels uncomfortable talking about it, we can change the rules."

"Agreed."

"I also want more financial independence. Instead of pooling our incomes, as we always have, I'd like my own bank account."

Paul looked doubtful. He thought, perhaps, it was all going too far. "That means changing our whole way of working our financial affairs."

"I consider changing our moral attitudes to be more difficult and dangerous," said Rachel softly. "We could ruin everything, but I want to give it a try. We owe it to the ten years we've both put into this marriage."

Paul shrugged. "Whatever you want."

Rachel smiled a little sadly. She realised that the monogamous marriage had been blown away forever, but she was sure both Paul and herself could find a new kind of happiness with each other.

A few days later she was sitting in the lounge bar of a London hotel waiting for Paul. She looked at her watch. He was late. She looked up and caught the eye of a large man sitting at the bar. He had been there for some time and made no attempt to hide his interest in the solitary woman. 

He raised his glass to her and Rachel gave a small nod of her head in acknowledgement. She had no intention of giving him the come-on, the movement being an involuntary response to his gesture. Too late she realised that the man interpreted her nod as a coded invitation. He rose from his stool and strolled towards her.

Paul entered the hotel bar with a light step. The general lighting was low, but each table had its own illumination. It was a pleasant ambience, with the configuration of the seats being a series of S shapes made out of a wooden frame topped by a trough full of flowers. The low, round tables were placed in the inside curves of the S, the troughs providing separation. Two thickly padded stools were set on the outside of the tables, whilst the main seating on the wooden S frame had deep and comfortable cushions.

Paul saw Rachel almost immediately. An attractive young woman sitting by herself enjoying a quiet drink. He found her extremely desirable and knew she would have that effect on many men. There was one now, heading in her direction, drink in hand. A big man, broad shouldered, with a swaggering walk. He smiled and gestured towards an empty stool at the woman's table. She nodded; he sat.

They began to talk - or, at least, he did. She smiled a little, shook her head, laughed. Paul was intrigued by the big man's technique; his own chat-up line had always been deficient. He had a facility for words, but written on paper (or rather, a word processor) and nursed an ambition to be a successful novelist. So far he had authored five books, all of which had been firmly rejected numerous times. Meanwhile, he made a good living by writing scripts for a long running TV soap, 'Cottingly'. It was on three times a week and employed four writers plus a script editor who made sure the storylines were kept going and jelled together.

Once a month there was a story conference held in the London headquarters of the TV production company. The writers and producers gathered together to kick ideas around and decide who was going to be responsible for a particular story line. The trip was always welcome as Paul spent nearly all his time at home, locked away in a small study, trying to find inspiration and keep his writing fresh.

When in London he always stayed at this hotel; it was central, comfortable and reasonably priced. Whilst not being a slave to drink, he made it a habit to get one in immediately he returned from the meeting. Tonight he was in for a special treat. Being a writer and a student of human nature, he was fascinated by seeing such an obvious attempt at a pick-up. Would the big man succeed?

Without getting a drink, Paul crossed the bar area and sat on the cushioned seat in the adjacent S bend. With only a few flowers between them, he was clearly able to hear the conversation.

"Over here for a conference." The big man had an American accent. "I'm in plastics."

"Really? How interesting." Rachel sounded as if she couldn't have cared less. "And what part of the U.S. are you from?"

"Atlanta."

"Ah, yes. The home of Coca Cola."

"Yeh." The man moved from stool to cushioned seat. "You know about that, huh?"

"I visited for a while."

"That's great. Say, your glass is empty. Let me get a refill."

"Oh no, thanks. One is my limit so early in the evening. There's a lot of drinking time to go before bedtime."

"Yeh." He moved closer still; one more move and he would be on her lap. "You a resident of this city, ma'am?"

"Do I look as old as that?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Do I look old enough to be designated as a 'ma'am'?"

"You sure don't." The American sounded enthusiastic. "Why, you're the best looking da....wom....lady in this bar."

Paul tried hard not to laugh.

The da....wom....lady looked around. "That's not saying a lot, is it? I'm the only one."

"No, I mean it." Now he sounded sincere. He was moving in for the kill. "You are dazzling."

"Thank you. No, I'm not."

He was lost. "Beg pardon?"

"In answer to your question. No, I'm not resident in this city. That's why I'm sitting in a hotel bar. I'm staying here."

"Well, what d'you know! So am I."

"What a coincidence."

"This is a big lonely town for a fella on his own."

"For a woman, too."

"Yeh." He placed his hand on hers. "The two of us should spend some time together."

"Um, maybe."

"I'm Harold Arlington the third. Friends call me Hal."

"Hello, Hal. I'm Rachel."

"What do you say we go up to my room? We could have a drink and get to know each other a little better."

"I rather thought you were hoping to get to know me very well; intimately, in fact."

"Hey, I like that." The American sounded impressed. "It's good that you're so up front. Know what you want and go for it."

"How could any girl resist such big shoulders and chest? They say size isn't everything, but if what's in your trousers compares with what I can see, that must be a sight to behold."

On the other side of the flowers, Paul was a trifle bemused by his wife's brazenness. It was not something he had expected.

The American's arm went round her and he lowered his voice, making Paul struggle to hear. He leaned further in the direction of the couple on the other seat, taking care to make sure he was still concealed by the plants.

"I'm not a guy to boast, but what I've got would fill your little pussy twice over."

"How interesting."

"I've got the hots for you right now. Feel if you like."

"In a public place?"

"Aw, nobody's watching." He took her hand and placed it on top of his flies. Straining at the material was a decidedly large and hard penis. "What do you think?"

"I'm supposed to get all of this inside me?" Rachel sounded slightly apprehensive.

"It'll stretch you a mite, I wager."

"I can't wait."

"Let's go."

He pulled her up, took her arm and walked her towards the lift. Paul was astounded by the turn of events; Rachel was actually allowing herself to be picked up in the most crude and obvious way. What should he do? What would she want him to do? Still uncertain he jumped up, rapidly crossed the foyer and caught up with the pair.

"Sorry I'm late, darling." He sounded breathless.

Rachel swung round, looked at him, then at Hal. Smiling, she gently disengaged her arm. "Too bad," she sighed. "May I introduce my husband. Paul, this is an American visitor from Atlanta. Harold Arlington."

"The third," Hal added, looking distinctly peeved.

"Pleased to meet you." They shook hands. "Shall we go, darling? We'll have to rush if we're going to have a meal and make the theatre in time."

Rachel smiled sweetly. "I'm sorry, Hal. I'll have to take a.....what do you Americans say?"

"Rain check."

"That's it."

"Rain check for what?" Paul enquired.

"We were going to Hal's room, darling. For a bit of fun. I got bored waiting for you and he offered excellent company."

"Did he now?"

"He also offered me the use of his nice big cock, so I thought I'd take him up on it. You've no objection, have you?"

"Well....."

"After all, you're always suggesting I try someone else to see how I liked it. This seemed a good opportunity."

"Yes, but....."

"Ah, so now you're changing your tune. It's all right as a fantasy, but the reality is too much for you."

"Not at all," Paul protested.

"Oh, good. So you don't mind if we carry on. I'll meet you later. We can always skip the meal; or you can have yours by yourself, if you like. I'm sure we'll be through in time for the theatre, won't we, Hal?"

The American looked completely bemused. "This guy's really your husband?"

"Oh, yes. For the past ten years."

"And he's happy to go away for a couple of hours while you ball another guy?"

Paul shook his head. "You can only have one hour if we're going to make the theatre. I want to see the play."

"What!" Hal was incredulous.

"And I'm not going anywhere. I want to watch my wife being shafted by somebody else."

"Good God!" Hal exclaimed.

"I've watched me doing it to her - in the mirror. I fancy looking at a different cock up her cunt."

"You really are being crude, darling," Rachel softly chided.

"Sorry. What do you say?"

Hal shrugged. "Okay by me. We could even share her."

"No, no. I want to watch, that's all."

Both men looked interrogatively at Rachel. 

"As you please. Let's just get on with it. I'm as horny as hell."

They were all silent in the lift as it whisked them upwards. Rachel felt a little tremor of excitement as she stood sandwiched between her husband and the man who would soon be her lover.

"Anyone want a drink?" Hal enquired, as they entered his room.

Rachel shook her head. "Maybe - after."

"I'll sit here and be as quiet as a mouse." Paul settled into a small armchair facing the bed. "Forget all about me."

He waited in anticipation as his wife and her potential lover gazed at each other, neither quite certain of the next move.

"You look mighty pretty in that dress, honey." The American had a slow Georgia drawl. "But I'll wager you look a heap better when all your charms are revealed."

"Too true," said Paul enthusiastically.

"You're not here," Rachel retorted.

"Sorry."

She reached behind, pulled down the zip, dropped her dress and stepped out of it. The bra quickly followed, releasing her full, round breasts from their captivity. Rachel was wearing tights and she took them down at the same time as her panties, sitting on the end of the bed in order to remove them.

She slowly pivoted. "Do I meet your approval?"

"Yes, ma'am. You sure do."

Rachel reached out, unzipped his trousers and unfastened the belt. They fell around his ankles. Beneath them he wore brightly coloured shorts, which she pulled down, allowing his penis to spring up parallel to the floor. She ran her hand along its length.

"I didn't think a penis could be so big," she said wonderingly. "So long and wide." A thin trickle of her juices wound its way down her leg. "I want it inside me," she whispered.

"As you command."

Hal lifted her off her feet, swung her round and laid her on the bed in one smooth movement. She wrapped her legs round his barrel chest as he thrust into her. Paul gasped as he saw the huge penis disappearing into his wife's cunt. She cried out, whether in pain or ecstasy it was difficult to say.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she shouted.

The big American showed her no quarter, pumping faster and faster, his penis reaching for its climax. She writhed around, her legs tightly gripping his chest, whilst her hands clenched and unclenched on the cover of the bed.

"Yes, yes, yes! Aaaa!"

Hal shuddered and gasped as he emptied the contents of his penis into her in a seemingly never ending gush. He pulled out as soon as he was spent, though a few remaining globules of semen dripped onto the carpet. It was at this point that his penis should have dwindled away to nothing, its duty done, but there was no perceptible change in its firmness or size.

"You want more?" Hal pulled Rachel onto her feet.

"Yes, please." She sounded enthusiastic.

"Okay. Change positions."

Hal spread his big body out on the bed, lying on his back, with the proud male member stiffly standing to attention. Paul was full of envy, realising he could never compete with such magnificence. His wife was in for another treat when she took it back inside her.

She slowly worked her way up to it, kissing Hal's inner thighs, then his balls, before bringing her tongue to bear on his upright penis. There was still a mixture of his cream and her fruity juices clinging to the skin and as she licked a memory came of a young girl enjoying a lollipop. She always thought they were delicious; this was delicious, too.

Trying to curb her impatience to sink this wondrous cock into her vagina again, Rachel began kissing above it, working her way upwards. His chest was thickly matted with ginger hair which tickled her nose, but both nipples stood out free and clear. She sucked each in turn with her soft lips, feeling a slight squirming of his body in response to her delicate touch.

Kissing his neck and chin, she then prised his lips apart with her tongue and penetrated his mouth. After a long, deep kiss, he took both her breasts in his hands, pulled her towards him, and sucked on her teats, imitating the action of a baby. She was sitting astride his chest, her vulva lightly caressed by his ginger hair. The sensations created were too much.

Reaching behind she found his still hardened penis. Taking her weight onto her knees, she wriggled her bottom towards his groin until vagina lips and cock found each other. Leaning back, she sank down, the erect phallus pushing its way into the silky folds of her secret chamber. Secret no more, but invaded for the second time by this enormous, pulsating, rock-hard instrument of pleasure.

She rode it as if in a race that must be won; up, down, up, down, muscles contracting, determinedly stimulating and fanning the flame of its lustful need for release. Up, down, up, down; the object inside her was an inflexible, unyielding totem-pole that reached deep into her. Up, down, up, down; his body slammed against the mattress. Anybody listening next door could hear the obvious rhythm of wild and passionate intercourse. 

Paul, silently watching from his chair, had been strong willed so far, but now he gave way to his own desire. Unzipping his flies, he pulled out his penis, as hard, but not as big as Hal's, and furiously began to masturbate. Rachel was riding up and down the stiff rod inside her and rubbing her clitoris, whilst Hal, in abandoned ecstasy, gripped her breasts so tightly she wanted to cry out with pain. Instead, her cries were those of triumph as the dam burst and they all climaxed together.

Within an hour Paul and Rachel were on their way to the theatre. They enjoyed the play. After a drink and light supper they retired to their room where they quickly undressed, had a shower, and then got into bed. Paul was already hard. He entered her. 

"Altogether this has been a most satisfying evening," he murmured, as he pumped in and out. 



Two Can Play Ch. 04



TWO CAN PLAY - CHAPTER 4

	When it was time for Steve to return to Saudi Arabia Rachel suggested a small dinner party to mourn his departure.  For the occasion she wore the same dress as on the evening she picked up Matt Hudson.  By contrast, Carol chose an attractive, but unrevealing, high necked, long skirted brocade.  As a consequence, it was Rachel who drew the eyes of both men, much to Carol's annoyance.
	Paul still found his wife alluring and loved to see her dressed up.  She had a good figure, carried herself well and knew how to wear clothes to make both them and her look their best.  He knew that Steve had always fancied Rachel, but she had never given him any reason to think he had any chance of fucking her.  It looked as if tonight he might be in luck.
	Rachel made sure that Steve sat next to her on the settee.  Almost the full length of her leg, from ankle to thigh, was revealed by the slit in her skirt.  Bare flesh showed above the top of her stocking and the strap of her suspender disappeared beneath the material of her dress.  Paul's mouth was dry as he looked, realising that his friend had the same view - but he was closer.
	Drinks were poured and consumed; light banter was exchanged; the temperature rose.  Laughing at a remark made by Steve, Rachel rubbed her hand up and down his thigh.  For all her free thinking and liberated ideas, Carol seemed to be more than a little peeved by the behaviour of their hostess.  It was plainly obvious that Rachel had set her cap at Steve and was determined to inflame him.
	Paul was ambivalent about the situation.  Intrigued at seeing his wife in action again, but concerned at the dramatic change in her attitude towards sex.  He was looking at a new and frightening Rachel; frightening because of her sudden and unnatural lack of inhibition.  Harold Arlington the third had been a sexual revolution. 
	Rachel was filled with the false gaiety produced by too much drink and Paul squirmed at her girlish giggles and raucous, almost coarse, laughter.  This was not the woman he had known and loved for ten years.  Her open flirtation with Steve - no, not flirtation; more an obviously sensual provocation - was completely out of character.  Or was it?  Had Paul unwittingly opened a Pandora's box?  How could she change so completely and so rapidly?
	"Fill my glass, darling."  Rachel held it out towards Paul.
	"I think you've had enough."
	"I'll decide that."  The reply was delivered sharply and with more than a little venom.
	"In that case, you can get it."  Paul realised he sounded petulant.
	Steve took the glass.  "I will.  Want some more myself."  He crossed to the drinks cabinet where he held up an empty bottle.  "The well's dry."
	"There's another in the kitchen."
	"Right."
	Steve left the room and the gaiety went with him.  Paul was morose, Carol grim and Rachel deflated in the presence of such obvious disapproval.  A heavy silence was broken by a shout from the kitchen.
	"I don't think Steve can find it."  Rachel looked pointedly at Paul, but he clenched his lips tight together in a deeper sulk.  "All right."  She rose from the settee, a trifle unsteadily, and headed towards the kitchen.  "I'll give him what he wants."  She turned at the door and wagged her finger.  "Don't get into mischief while I'm away."
	Paul and Carol glared at each other as Rachel disappeared from view.  Neither spoke or made a move.
	In the kitchen Steve was vaguely looking into cupboards, opening and closing doors with unseeing eyes.
	"Can't find any."
	"You're not looking properly."  Rachel went to a cupboard, already dismissed by Steve, and took out a bottle.
	"Swell party."  He grinned at her.
	Rachel giggled.  "Sounds like the title of a song."
	Steve nodded.  "Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra.  Bored by the company, they got drunk together."
	Rachel gazed at him.  "I'm bored."
	"You want to get drunk together?"
	She shook her head.  "I'd rather do something else."
	Steve looked around.  "Now?  In here?"
	"Right now and right here."
	Rachel lifted up her skirt and sat on the edge of a large and sturdy wooden table.  She opened her legs.  Steve looked appreciatively at what she revealed.
	"Why, Rachel, you're not wearing knickers."
	She smiled.  "No."
	"Come out of your shell a bit, haven't you?"
	"Just a little."
	He ran his tongue round his lips.  "I want to kiss you."
	"Then do it."  She puckered her lips.
	"No.  Here."
	Steve dropped to his knees and buried his face in the warmth between her legs.  Bracing herself with her arms she leaned back and closed her eyes as she felt his tongue exploring the delicate folds of her vagina.  She was already wet with desire.
	Rachel softly moaned as Steve gently rubbed her clitoris with his finger, starting slowly, but gradually quickening the pace whilst applying more pressure at the same time.  Her body responded with a series of little shudders.  Sliding his other hand up inside her dress, Steve cupped her breast, squeezing it and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
	By now Rachel's breath was coming in short gasps and she knew she was close to orgasm.  Her fingers tightly gripped the edge of the table and all her muscles clenched as she soared up on a wave of ecstasy.
	The unmistakeable cry of sexual fulfilment reached the ears of the two grim figures in the living room.  Neither had spoken or made a move, but now they looked at each other in silent sympathy at the mutual knowledge of their partners' activity.  It ought not to have mattered to either of them; after all, wasn't this exactly the game they both enjoyed playing?
	And yet.....
	"What the hell!"
	Carol swiftly stood up, unzipped her dress, stepped out of it, reached behind and unfastened her bra, then pulled off her pants.  Having achieved a state of total nakedness in less than half a minute, she crossed over to Paul, still sitting on the settee.
	"Why should they have all the fun?" Carol asked.  She knelt down and unzipped his flies.  "You need something to be done about this."  She pulled out his penis, soft and flabby, with no sign of an erection.
	"I don't think...." Paul began to protest.
	"Shut up."  
	Carol leaned forward and began to masturbate the sorry specimen of manhood with her lips.  It took only a few moments for life to surge into the wilting organ.  It visibly began to harden.  As a little girl Carol loved sucking an iced  lollipop.  Her favourites were those shaped like a cone, wide at the bottom and narrowing at the top.
	Starting at the wide end she would run her tongue up towards the peak, then curl it around the tip before descending again.  At the time there were no sexual connotations involved in her action; she was merely sucking and enjoying her lollipop.  As she grew older and learned the facts of life, she realised the similarity between the sweet and a man's penis.
	It amused her to reflect that the same action had such an opposite effect.  As she sucked the lollipop it diminished in size, fading away to nothing, whilst the penis grew in size and interest.  Like Paul's now; no longer flaccid and useless it was standing upright and proud, ready to do its duty and fill her hole.
	"Oh, God."  A moan escaped Paul's lips.
	Carol looked up at him.  "Is that good?" she mischievously enquired.
	"You know damned well it is," gasped Paul.
	"I'm sure you'd be very uncomfortable if you tried to put this back in your trousers."  Carol gently stroked his erect penis.  "Perhaps if I gave it some medicine and softened it a little you might be able to cope better."
	"For God's sake, woman, stop acting like an idiot," Paul growled.  "I want to get inside you before it's too late."
	Carol clucked and shook her head.  "What a naughty boy you are.  Taking advantage of a poor defenceless woman just because she's naked and sucking your cock."  A cry from the kitchen brought a frown to her forehead.  "You're right.  Let's put an end to games."
	She stood up, turned her back on Paul, then sat down on his lap, carefully lowering herself until she felt his penis pushing into her vagina.  The lips parted in welcome, enjoying the caress of his flesh as it slid past them.  Carol gasped as the tip of Paul's cock pushed against her cervix, then instantly raised herself up, taking the strain on her legs.
	Before the stiffened male member was totally released from the folds of her vagina, she sank down again.  Repeating the action, gradually increasing in speed, she set up a rhythm which they both caught.
	In the kitchen Steve tipped Rachel over until she was lying flat on her back on the table.  Holding her legs up in the air and apart, he steered his penis in the direction of her vagina, but missed the target and instead, pressed against the soft flesh of her inner thigh.  She giggled, intoxicated by both alcohol and the absurdity of her position, then guided his hard member with her hand.
	Steve groaned with pleasure as he pushed his cock deep into the tunnel of love.  He held still for a few moments, savouring the intense pleasure of full penetration, then began to pound in and out with an ever increasing ferocity.  Rachel's naked bottom slammed up and down on the wooden table with the force of his thrusts.
	They came together, both crying out with the intense joy of successful copulation.  Drained of all his strength, Steve collapsed on top of Rachel, his breath coming in short, heavy gasps.  He nuzzled the cleavage of her breasts with his nose and then pulled down her dress, exposing the twin peaks of delight.
	The nipples were hard and he pulled at them with his lips, taking each in turn.  Rachel squirmed slightly in response.  The penis lay motionless inside her, still retaining enough hardness to fill her vagina.  She had the impression of a predator waiting to pounce.
	Suddenly Steve stood up and pulled out of her.  Rachel was disappointed; but not for long.
	"Lie face down," Steve instructed her.  "With your feet on the floor.  Well apart."
	She instantly obeyed.  She wished she could see the result, though she was able to imagine the view given to Steve.  He would see her trim, well rounded bottom, the cheeks slightly reddened after their pounding on the wooden table.  The silky lips of her vagina, still wet with her juices, would be inviting him to part them with his stiff cock.
	Apparently it was not stiff enough for his satisfaction.  Although she was unable to see him, Rachel was aware of him stroking and pulling at the instrument of her pleasure, bringing it to an even greater state of rigidity.  She longed to help him in his endeavour, but realised he wanted her to stay exactly as she was.  The sight of her expectant vagina, the target for his cock, was all the motivation he needed.
	Whilst Rachel was waiting for Steve's second entry, his wife was astride Paul in the living room.  She was moving in a gentle rhythm, her fingers working on her clitoris.  At the same time Paul cupped her breasts in his hands, appreciating their softness as he squeezed and kneaded them.
	Carol's eyes were closed as she felt her whole body fill with the sensation of pleasure.  Paul's penis, wrapped in the warm folds of her vagina, was beginning to throb and pulse as his creamy sperm began its inexorable progress along the tunnel which led to the womb.  A sudden burst brought forth a loud groan from him and a cry of triumph from her. 
	She quickened her movement to catch the last throes of the cock's power.  Paul's hands tightened their grip on her breasts as the ecstasy of his climax made every muscle as taut as a piano wire.  A long sigh escaped his lips and with it went the strength from his penis.
	Carol quickly climbed off his thighs, turned and knelt between his legs.  She filled her mouth with his cock, savouring the taste of his semen and her own juices.  She sucked it, ran her lips along its length and tongued his glans.  Paul squirmed in his chair at the delightful sensations being produced by Carol's ministrations.
	Holding the glistening penis between her fingers she rapidly flicked it over her outstretched tongue.  There was a noticeable hardening of the previously wilting phallus.  Paul groaned making Carol redouble her efforts.
	"I heard about a woman who had a cock up her two hundred and one times in succession."
	"God, how did the man do it?"
	"He didn't.  It was two hundred and one different man.  They queued up in a continuous line."
	"Doesn't seem possible," Paul murmured.
	"I saw her on TV in the middle of it all.  She looked quite fresh."
	"Good for her."
	Carol rubbed the extending penis between her palms.  "I wouldn't mind a go at that."
	"You'll have to make do with twice tonight," moaned Paul.  "At any rate from me."
	He was hard once more and Carol mounted him for a second time, this time face to face.  She leaned forward, bracing herself with her hands pushing against the back of the settee.  With her breasts only inches away it was easy for Paul to nibble at her distended nipples.  Carol slowly ground her thighs against his, her vagina muscles applying pressure to his penis.  He was finished in all too short a time, his breath coming in quick gasps.  Still short of her own climax, Carol began a rapid pumping action while the going was good.  She made it and her whole body tingled with the electricity of her orgasm. 
	It was good while it lasted for both of them but then, all passion spent, Carol could think of nothing more to do than climb off his thighs.  The object of their mutual satisfaction had already lost its military bearing.  Folds of flesh gathered around themselves as the penis withered and shrank into total insignificance.
	Another cry from the kitchen indicated that it was still all go through there.  Despite their own satisfaction, both Paul and Carol still felt more than a little peeved at the obviously successful coupling of their partners.  They got dressed in silence.
	Now aroused once more to his satisfaction, Steve had plunged his shaft into Rachel, driving it in up to the hilt.  He rutted in the manner of an animal, rapidly pumping in and out without a pretence of any feeling other than lust.  The woman was an object of his sexual pleasure; she could have been anyone.  Indeed, she was any and everyone.
	Rachel knew she ought to be humiliated by the treatment being meted out to her.  This was not the way to make love; but, of course, it wasn't love.  It was sex in a pure, unadulterated form.  Unused to it before, she knew this was the path she planned to tread in future.  She ought to be humiliated, but she accepted this mindless, soulless screwing for what it was.
	Steve jerked.  "Yes!!!!" he gasped, as he once more pumped semen out of his cock and into her vagina.
	Rachel held tightly onto the table as her own body shuddered and shook through a lengthy climax.  She lay still, breathing heavily, even after she felt the penis withdrawn.
	"You shouldn't have kept yourself for Paul all these years."  Steve leaned back against the sink, studying her bottom through hooded eyes.  The vulva was closing up tight after its recent activity.  "Bloody waste.  You ought to spread it around."
	Rachel slowly raised herself up and sat on the table, aware that the edge was digging into the soft flesh of her thighs, but needing a few moments to recover.
	"Somebody else told me that."
	"Glad to see you're taking their advice.  Been stuck in a rut for too long.  Open up your horizons and live a little."
	"I intend to."
	"Good for you."
	They returned to the living room and were greeted by a sullen silence.  More drinks were poured, but the farewell party was over to all intents and purposes and the guests left shortly after.
	Paul filled his glass as soon as the front door had closed.
	"We've never done it in the kitchen."
	"I can recommend it.  Not too comfortable, but that adds an extra erotic charge to the proceedings."
	"Not to say a different man."
	"Um.  That too."
	"Enjoy it, did you?"
	"Very much."
	"Did you suck him off?"
	"No."
	"Did he put it in?"
	"Yes.  Twice."  Rachel sounded defiant and challenging.  "What about you and Carol?  Did you sit at opposite ends of the room all the time?"
	"No."
	"Did you put it in?"
	"Yes."
	"And was it good?"
	Paul shrugged.  "It was okay."
	"Then we're both happy.  I'm going to bed."  Rachel turned in the doorway.  "I don't think you should have any more to drink.  We've both drunk far more than usual; and more than we should.  Goodnight."
	Paul stared at the wood panelling of the closed door.
	"Damn," he softly swore.
	Quickly swilling down his drink he picked up the bottle and poured another.     




Two Can Play Ch. 05



"It's been nearly a month," Rachel ruefully admitted to Kate. They were looking through racks of clothes in a major store, though neither felt much enthusiasm. "This is all so dreary. Dark and dull colours." 

Rachel plucked out a dress that fully answered to her description and held it in front of her.

Kate shook her head. "Awful."

The dress was replaced and they wandered away to investigate another rack.

"Do you include Paul when you say it's been nearly a month?" Kate enquired.

"Yes."

"Oh, dear. I don't think I could abstain from sex for a whole month."

"I haven't abstained. It hasn't been on offer." Rachel fingered a silver grey trouser suit. "What do you think?"

"No, doesn't suit your colour. They've got it in black."

Rachel considered it. "Um. Maybe. Eighty pounds. Worth it, would you say?"

Kate shrugged. "Try it on."

There was more critical contemplation followed by a sigh. "No, I think not." Rachel replaced it.

They wandered off.

"I didn't think you'd be bothered about price after your windfall." Kate briefly flicked up the hem of a skirt. "That's not very well made."

"Windfall?" Rachel frowned. "I'm not sure that's an appropriate word for my father's death."

"That's what it is. And you said he was suffering. Probably for the best."

"Oh, it was, I'm sure of it. Still..."

"And you told me you weren't very close."

"Not very," Rachel sadly admitted.

"At least he left you his fortune."

"Hardly that. A little over twenty thousand."

"Um. Not to be sniffed at."

"It won't last long now I've given up my job."

"Unemployment is not to become a permanent state, is it?"

Rachel shook her head. "Not at all. I simply couldn't stand that damned store any longer. I'm looking for something a little different. This money gives me breathing space."

"What about Paul? Does he get anything?"

"He doesn't expect a penny of my inheritance."

"Good job we live in the age we do. In the past a woman's money and possessions belonged to her husband. Fancy a coffee?" Kate asked as they approached the in-house self-service restaurant.

"Why not?"

Over the last few months a real friendship had grown between the two women. They partied together, went on a few joint dates - though not foursomes for sex; at least, not yet - and generally enjoyed each other's company.

There were not many customers and they were able to get a table set well apart from the nearest person. Apart from the coffee they had both selected a large piece of gateau containing far too many calories. To compound the felony, both had asked for cream to be added.

"What the hell," murmured Kate, her mouth full. "We can cut down on something else."

"We'd have to stop eating for the rest of the week." Rachel was gorging herself on chocolate and cream.

"It's worth it."

"Um." Rachel nodded agreement.

A few minutes later, the only evidence of their binge being a few crumbs on the plates, they sat back with satisfied smirks and drank the coffee.

"I was picked up last week," Kate announced.

"What's unusual about that?"

"No....I mean, picked up. On the street."

"I don't understand."

"It was night....street lights....not many people about and I was at a bit of loss about where to go, what I wanted to do. I was walking along, but not purposefully, then something in a shop window caught my eye so I stopped to look. After a moment I turned away, but hesitated, still undecided. This car slowly came along and stopped. Quite big and flashy. The window went down and a man's voice came out of the dark interior."

"What did he say?"

"He asked me if I was waiting for business."

Rachel looked shocked. "Do you mean he took you for...for a prostitute?"

"Exactly."

"Didn't you tell him where to get off?"

"I must admit it was on the tip of my tongue, but then I decided to play along and see where it led."

"Kate, you didn't!"

"I've seen all the films so I know how it's done. I leaned in through the open window and saw a not bad looking man. He asked me how much so I told him forty pounds in the car. I'd no idea whether that was too much or too little, but I had to come up with a figure. He didn't bat an eye, but told me to get in. So I did."

"But anything could have happened to you."

Kate grinned. "That was part of the excitement. I was wet just thinking of all the possibilities. I thought the odds of him murdering me were pretty small. Anyway, he asked where to drive, which caught me out for a moment. Then I remembered an alley not far away, one of these dead end places used for deliveries. No activity at that time. We drove there and he handed me the forty pounds; I'd forgotten about it. Have you ever done it in a car?"

Rachel shook her head.

"It's not easy, even in a big one. It was impossible on the front seat because of all the gears and control panels, so we got into the back."

"Then what did you do?"

"Unzipped his fly, found his cock and brought it out."

"Was it big?"

Kate shook her head. "In different circumstances I wouldn't have given it a second look; puny, crumpled little thing. But he'd paid me money to do something about it, so I began masturbating it with my hands. It took a while, but eventually there were signs of life and it stiffened enough to make me think we might get somewhere."

"I wouldn't have bothered."

"I felt sorry for him. A bit pathetic, really. It became a matter of personal pride to do something for him. Anyway, it was up as far as it was going, though still a bit squidgy."

"Sounds great." Rachel pulled a face.

"I reckoned I wasn't going to get any more out of him, so I pulled down my tights and pants. There wasn't much room, so it was more of a wriggle, actually."

"How did you manage to do it?"

"I sat on him. He was just hard enough to get it into me. Unimpressive as he was, I felt well lubricated. The whole situation was such a turn on my juices were flowing down my legs. He slid in easily enough and I began riding him, trying not to bang my head on the roof. Then, miracle of miracles, he really started to harden. My warm, silky pussy really got him going. Soon over, though. Couldn't hold it at all."

"He came inside you?"

"Of course."

"Shouldn't you have used a condom?"

"Never crossed my mind. Didn't have one, anyway. Besides, what's the point when I don't use them on anyone else?"

Rachel looked doubtful. "Seems different, somehow."

Kate grinned. "Oh, it was different all right."

"Did you have an orgasm?"

Kate shook her head. "No. It was over too fast and the circumstances weren't right. Too uncomfortable. Wouldn't fancy doing it for a living, but as an experience it was great."

"Um. Don't think I'd fancy trying. Even once."

They finished their coffee and continued looking around the store, but ended up by buying nothing.

"Bang go their profits," murmured Kate. 

They were walking along the street when Rachel suddenly stopped in front of a travel agency.

"Let's go on holiday."

"What?"

"I've got some time due and I could take it next month."

"Have you got the money?"

Rachel smiled as she tapped her bag. "A few thousand pounds from my father's estate."

Kate pulled a face. "You're lucky. All I've got is a credit card with a balance that's too high for my liking."

"Oh, come on, let's get away for a couple of weeks. Sunshine, sea and sand....."

"And men!"

They both laughed.

*****

"Yes!!!!"

Rachel's exuberant shout of joy was a reaction to stepping out onto the balcony of their self catering apartment in Puerto Rico, Gran Canaria. The sun was shining out of a clear blue sky impregnating the gentle Atlantic waves with millions of sparkling pin-pricks of light, whilst a light breeze wafted nothing but warmth. Immediately below the balcony was an inviting swimming pool, whilst to the left and right other hotels and resort complexes climbed up the hillside on which the town was built.

"Come out here, Kate," Rachel called back into the apartment. "You've got to see this."

"Will it disappear in the next half minute?"

"I hope not."

"Then I'll go for a pee."

With a sigh of deep pleasure, Rachel leaned her elbows on the balcony rail and put her head between her hands as she gazed out over the vista before her. Fourteen nights of this. It was like a dream.

They had gone into the travel agency, plucked up half a dozen brochures and studied them whilst having another cup of coffee. It took an hour, by which time the management were on the verge of throwing them out, for the girls to decide where to go.

"Spoilt for choice, that's the trouble." Kate turned a page. "They're all beginning to look and sound the same."

"I fancy the Canary Islands." Rachel had stopped at a page headed GRAN CANARIA. "Puerto Rico sounds nice. Hottest of the south coast resorts, lively centre, deep curve of golden sand."

"Yes, but it's four hours flying time. We can get closer than that."

"I don't want to go anywhere that's full of kids."

"Difficult to avoid them. They seem to be everywhere, even when it's not school holidays."

Rachel tapped her brochure. "Young and livelies congregate at Puerto Rico. That's us, isn't it?"

"I like to think so, but sometimes I have my doubts, as far as I'm concerned."

"Don't be silly. You still look pretty good."

"Oh, thanks. That back-handed compliment cheered me up no end."

Rachel ignored her friend. "I'd like to go to Puerto Rico. Self catering. That way we can eat what we like when we like. And you don't have the same restrictions as in a hotel."

Kate shrugged. "I'm easy. Wherever we go I can't afford it."

Of course, Paul was far from pleased. "We've always gone on holiday together."

"I fancy one now. Can you get away?"

"You know very well I can't."

"So that's it."

"My God, I can't believe you could change so much."

"This is the new liberated Rachel. I've been a mouse too long."

"You were anything but a mouse."

"Sometimes I felt like one. But I'm different now." Rachel patted his hand. "I'm going to Gran Canaria with Kate, so you might as well get used to the idea." She giggled. "Anyway, while the mouse is away, the cat can play."

Rachel sighed again as she contemplated her home for the next two weeks. She always got a kick out of being abroad in a country with lots of sunshine. Her pleasure was probably magnified because of deprivation as a child, her parents always choosing to go to Scotland for their holidays. It usually rained, a chilly wind blew and the temperature rarely rose above 65 Fahrenheit. Now here she was in the Canary Islands where the temperature was 80 and there was no sign of rain; she was determined to make the best of it.

"Um. Not bad." Kate had finally emerged onto the balcony.

"Not bad!" cried Rachel. "It's wonderful. I'm going to enjoy this holiday."

"If it kills you."

"You're being a bit of a damp squib. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Kate patted her friend's hand. "Probably a touch of jet lag."

Rachel frowned. "I thought that was only supposed to happen on long haul flights."

"Believe me, four hours is a long haul as far as I'm concerned. I hate being cooped up on a plane. Shit scared it's going to fall out of the sky."

"That's silly."

"They do, you know."

"One in I don't know how many thousands."

"Just my luck to be on that one."

"You can mope about here if you like." Rachel went inside. "I'm going to have a shower, put on my bikini that hides almost nothing, and go down to the pool."

She was right about the bikini. The top covered her areolae and nipples and not much else, whilst the bottom hardly did more than hide her pubic hair. Little was left to the imagination and, judging by the stares of all the men, they were quickly filling in the blanks. Women, too, were giving Rachel the benefit of their attention, for different and more hostile reasons.

However, she refused to be fazed by their frozen looks, but joyfully jumped into the pool and swam from one end to the other. Having achieved that feat of endurance, she trod water and surveyed the scene around the pool, concentrating on the men who were obviously not accompanied by a female. She had no wish to rob anyone, despite what the other women might think, and was certain there would be enough of the opposite sex to go round. A fair number of them looked most inviting and she would enjoy getting to know them better. 

Smiling to herself she resumed swimming, but this time with a gentle, lazy stroke. The water felt good, the sun was shining and everything was right in this best of all possible worlds.

*****

The holiday was more than half over. In the eight days since their arrival, the two girls had walked up and down the hillsides, lazed on the beach, swum in the pool, taken two excursions, danced in the discos, eaten a lot of the wrong food, drunk too much and been fucked by three men; each of them, that is, by three different men.

Now they had hired a pedalo and were trying, with little success, to get the wretched thing to go in the direction of their choice. It appeared to have a mind of its own and their navigation was proving less than admirable. A great deal of shouting, furious paddling and splashing was getting them nowhere very fast, the pedalo being determined to do nothing more than describe a circle.

"Stop peddling!" shouted Rachel. 

"What difference will that make?"

"I don't know. Do it."

Kate did. It made no difference. Rachel stopped.

"Now we're not going anywhere," Kate grumbled.

"It's better than endlessly going round and round. We'll start again; gently. Together now. One, two, three."

They paddled.

And went round in a circle.

"Oh, this is hopeless."

"Need a hand?"

They had both been so occupied with their navigational failings that neither of them had noticed a pedalo swiftly and smoothly draw alongside. It was propelled by two young men; not bad looking young men, as Rachel was quick to notice. Better still, they understood how to work the bloody pedalos.

She smiled sweetly. "We can't get it to go straight."

"Nothing to it."

"Show us."

Without another word the two men peddled off.

"Oh, well done." Kate sounded peeved. "Rescue was at hand and you sent them away."

"I didn't do anything of the sort," Rachel protested. "Look." She pointed. "They're coming back."

Without the slightest hint of a problem the other pedalo once more came alongside.

"You see?" The young man grinned.

"Frankly; no. Showing off like that did nothing but boost your egos." Rachel's sharp tone drew a dirty look from Kate, but neither of the men seemed bothered.

"Tell you what," said the Captain; he must have been the Captain, for he had done all the talking. "We'll swop over. You come into this pedalo with me and Derek will join your friend. That way we might be able to get both of you going."

"Think you're up to that?" asked Rachel, with more than a hint of seduction in her voice.

"We're more than capable," replied the Captain.

"Let's try then."

Derek climbed out onto a small platform connecting the two halves of the pedalo at the front. Once he was clear Rachel began to climb over into his seat, but only succeeded in pushing the pedalos apart. Her hands were on the floor of one whilst her feet were still in the other. She gave a squeal.

"Hang on!" yelled Derek, reaching across the gap to pull the pedalos together. 

"Bring the rest of you across nice and easy," the Captain instructed. "Try not to rock us too much."

"It's not easy," muttered Rachel through gritted teeth.

She finally made the transfer and Derek nimbly jumped from his precarious perch to the seat in the other pedalo. 

"Now we're off," said the Captain, who quickly introduced himself as Tony. "Pedal nice and steady and try to keep in rhythm with me."

"What about turning?"

"Don't worry about that. I'll take care of it. Right.... pedal."

The water churned beneath their paddles and the pedalo moved off in a straight line, miraculously turning at the right moment at Tony's behest.

"How do you do that?" Rachel asked.

Tony laughed. "Magic."

That was a supercilious reply guaranteed to make Rachel furious, but for some reason she found herself laughing with him. They spent the rest of the afternoon together and the evening, when they went to a disco in the town and consumed a large quantity of drink. Derek was barely able to keep his feet and had to be half carried by Kate and Tony, who were not all that capable themselves. However, they got him back to his apartment, dropped him onto a couch and left him to sleep it off.

"Looks like I'm in for a lonely night," murmured Kate.

"We'll keep you company." Rachel hiccuped. "Oops. Beg your pardon."

"Oo, good....a threesome." Kate suddenly grabbed a pole and held on to it. "I don't think...." She began to sag down, but jerked herself up. "I don't think I'm going to get any further. Maybe I should sleep here."

She began to slide down the pole, but Tony grabbed her. "Not far to go and we'll have you in bed."

"I fancy that." She kissed him on the lips. "I fancy you."

"Great. Let's get you home first."

"Home is a long way away." Kate waved her arms. "A long, long way. Four hours flying time."

"Your bed's nearer. Just a couple of minutes."

"How nice."

They staggered along to the girls' apartment and Rachel took her friend through to the bedroom. Kate flopped down onto the bed and was out like a light.

"She all right?" Tony enquired when Rachel emerged.

"Um. Fast asleep."

"Pity. I fancied a threesome."

Rachel lightly punched him on the chest. "You'll have to make do with me."

"I need the bathroom."

Tony quickly disappeared. Rachel went into the small kitchenette, filled the kettle and put it on the two ring hob. She heard the toilet flush followed by a rush of water from the tap. After a few moments Tony emerged from the bathroom, his hair dishevelled and face pale.

"I'm making coffee." Rachel looked critically at her guest. "You look as if you could do with some. Have you been sick?"

"As a dog."

"I wonder why we say that."

"Say what?"

"Sick as a dog."

"No idea." Tony groaned and doubled over.

"I think you'd better get back to the bathroom."

"Yes."

Rachel tried to block out the sound of him bringing up the contents of his stomach. She was not far off the same state herself and needed little encouragement. She made the coffee and went out onto the balcony. It was a beautiful, warm night and a myriad stars twinkled in the clear heavens. She sat down on a lounger, closed her eyes and fell asleep.

She woke when Tony joined her.

"Feeling better?"

"Think so."

"The coffee's probably cold by now." She took a sip and was surprised to find it still hot. Obviously she had not been sleeping more than a couple of minutes.

"Don't think I want any."

"It'll do you good."

"Um." Tony sounded far from convinced, but sat down next to her and picked up the cup.

It took a few minutes, but gradually Tony became a little more loquacious and they began to talk quietly. He was twenty-five and a furniture salesman. The pay was far from great, but he got some commission on sales and that helped.

"I'm pretty good, though I say so myself."

"Where are you from?"

"Bristol."

"Nice?"

Tony shrugged. "All right, I suppose." He looked at Rachel. "Have you sobered up?"

"Was I drunk?"

"I think we all were, but I'm feeling a whole lot better now."

"I feel great."

"Let's go for a swim," Tony suddenly suggested.

"I thought the pool was closed at night."

"It is, but if we're quiet who's going to know?"

"Yeh." Rachel opened her eyes wide. "We'll be quiet."

They slipped out of the apartment and down the steps to the pool area, trying to stifle their giggles. The perimeter was illuminated by lights set in the wall, but the pool itself was gratifyingly dim. Most of the apartments were in darkness, only three or four revealing their occupants to be up. There were only couples or singles in this block, no families, so it was unlikely anyone would make a fuss about a late night invasion of the pool.




Two Can Play Ch. 05



"Damn!" Rachel stopped at the foot of the steps.

"What is it?"

"I haven't brought my swimwear."

Tony grinned. "Neither have I."

"There's nothing for it but to go naked." Rachel sounded exuberantly loud.

"Sh, sh, sh!" Tony jabbed his finger to his lips.

"Oh, yeh." Rachel repeated the gesture. "Sh, sh, sh."

They quickly stripped off their clothes, neither showing any reserve or modesty, then quietly lowered themselves into the water.

"Brr." Rachel gave a little shiver. "This is colder than I expected. Maybe it's not such a good idea."

"You'll soon adjust to the temperature. The water feels cold on the first immersion, that's all."

Rachel giggled. "Look at my nipples. The cold has made them hard."

"It's doing the same for me; only it's not my nipples."

"Maybe it's not the cold water, either." Rachel looked at him with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Maybe not. Race you to the other end." He started off.

"That's not fair!" squealed Rachel. She pounded after him with no hope of catching up. "You didn't give me any warning," she panted as they reached the other end.

"All's fair in love and war." He kissed her lightly on the lips. "Anyway, we'd better not do that again. You made too much noise."

"I did!" Rachel looked indignant. "It's you who started splashing around."

"Yes, but we'll have to keep it quieter."

Rachel solemnly put a finger to her lips. "Sh."

"Exactly."

They swam about or floated for the next quarter of an hour without apparently disturbing anyone. One apartment light went off, but none came on. Sometimes they stopped, trod water and held each other close, Rachel's breasts pressed into the hairs on Tony's chest, and his penis nestled against her pubic hair. It was not fully erect, but nevertheless, felt capable of giving a great deal of pleasure.

Eventually Rachel swam over to the side towards the shallow end and, with her back against the pool wall, allowed her legs to float upwards. She supported herself by stretching out her arms along the walkway. Tony came across to join her and she spread her legs, showing her vulva just beneath the surface, the labia puffed and reddened, eager to be prised apart by a penis pushing through into her vagina.

It was shallow enough for Tony to stand and he moved between her legs, not making any attempt to enter her. His lips sought her nipples, gently pulling on them, before moving upwards towards her mouth. They kissed, long and deep, their tongues probing and caressing. Tony followed that by running his tongue around the lobes of her ears, whilst at the same time his hands teased and pulled at her nipples. She could feel his penis lying flat on her stomach, harder now and pulsing with mounting excitement. She longed to have it inside her, but patiently waited for him to make the move.

He was kissing her neck now, then back to her mouth before returning to her breasts. A soft moan escaped her lips. The hood of her clitoris had opened and his scrotum gently rubbed against it sending little waves of delight coursing through her body.

Tony moved back a step and his penis fell away to dangle uselessly in the water, much to Rachel's frustration, but now his lips were on her stomach and his finger on her clitoris, pressing harder than his scrotum. Her head squirmed from side to side and a whole series of moans broke the silence between them. He inserted a finger into her vagina, then two fingers.

"Oh, yes," she murmured.

Another finger found her anus and opened it up before entering. Wave after wave of sheer excitement flooded through her, crashing onto the shore of her orgasm. She gasped and every muscle tensed, but the fingers inside her showed no mercy and she felt herself lifting up into another orgasm almost before the first had eased away.

Rachel groaned. "Fuck me. I want your cock inside my cunt."

"You'll get it."

"Now. I want it now." She sounded desperate.

Tony laughed and pushed away from her swimming on his back in a slow crawl. Rachel was left with her legs wide open, a throbbing vagina and no relief.

"Please," she whispered, urgently.

He came slowly back, swimming until he could gain his footing, then walked back between her legs. This time he aimed his rock hard penis straight at the target and drove into her. She cried out and flung her arms round his neck virtually sitting on the rod inside her. Almost weightless in the water, she was able to vigorously ride Tony without causing too much strain.

She could feel the penis expanding even more as her labia rubbed along its length and it plunged in and out of her welcoming vagina. The water splashed around them and their cries became louder as they simultaneously began to reach for their climax. Heedless of the noise created at such a late hour and the real possibility of raising an audience of rudely awakened holiday-makers, the lovers pursued their lustful quest for fulfillment.

Tony's sudden tightening of his grip on her back and the powerful throbbing of his penis told Rachel that he was about to fill her with his semen. She stopped her movement and clung on to him, her head on his shoulder, as she felt the burst deep within her. She could imagine the white, creamy liquid pouring out of Tony's cock through the glans relieving him of the pressure that had been built up inside the instrument of her pleasure.

When he was all spent and visibly sagging, Rachel pulled herself off the penis and dropped back into the water. Tony was breathing deeply and leaned on the pool lining wall for support.

"Too much to drink," he gasped. "Drink and sex takes it out of a man."

Rachel giggled and ran her hand along his penis, rapidly deflating to its normal, uninteresting state.

"You certainly gave it to me."

Tony looked up at the balconies above. There were no lighted windows or people leaning over to see what all the noise was about. 

"Surprised we didn't wake everyone. I forgot about being quiet."

"They should all be doing it anyway." Rachel, once more floating on the water, idly kicked her legs. "That's what a holiday is all about."

"Some of them are married."

"Don't they fuck then?"

"Not too often, from what I'm told by my married friends."

"I'm married," said Rachel, airily.

Tony stared at her. "I don't believe it."

"True."

"Where is he?"

"At home."

"Are you separated?"

Rachel smiled. "Only by a few hundred miles."

"No, I meant....do you still live together?"

"Oh, yes. We fuck, too. Occasionally," she added.

"My God!" Tony looked stricken.

"What is it?"

"I've committed adultery. And I'm Catholic."

Rachel laughed. "No, silly. I'm the one who's committed adultery. All you've got to confess to your priest is fornication."

"Oh, that's all right, then."

They both laughed.

*****

The holiday was over. The bags were packed and they were waiting in reception for the coach to the airport. Neither was in a good mood; Rachel because she had no wish to leave the sun-drenched island and Kate because the last few days had been less than satisfactory. In fact, her holiday had been completely spoiled and it was Tony who had ruined it.

Since meeting him Rachel had spent every waking moment - and many sleeping ones - in his company. By necessity, Kate and Derek were thrown together, but she found him extremely boring and a poor lover. He'd had his cock in her several times, but not once given her anything approaching an orgasm, whilst her friend had been finely serviced on numerous occasions by Tony.

"You're seeing too much of him," Kate grumbled. "Getting in too deep. Next thing you'll be arranging to see him when you get back home."

"No, I won't."

"You'll get involved."

"With a furniture salesman from Bristol, for God's sake!" Rachel grimaced. "Did that sound frightfully snobbish?"

"It did rather. I'm not sure which was worse; the furniture salesman or Bristol." Kate stubbed out a cigarette. "Anyway, you're supposed to be limiting yourself to one night stands."

"You've been with Derek the last few days."

"I can't bloody get away from him. He sticks with Tony, I stick with you, so we're pushed together. I don't like it."

Rachel shrugged. "You don't have to stay with me all the time. Go off on your own."

Kate exploded. "I came on holiday with you. I can't afford it, but I came, all the same, because you wanted to come and needed company. Now you tell me to get lost."

"Nothing of the sort," protested Rachel. "All I'm saying is, if you want to find your own bloke go off and do it. Don't whinge at me all day."

"You're getting trapped. Tony is going to cause you marital problems. You'll regret it. Divorce from Paul, loss of your home, your lifestyle.....

"You're just being hysterical. Anyway, you're the one who's always saying I should leave Paul."

"Yes, but all you'll do is swop him for...for a furniture salesman, for God's sake!"

"It's a holiday thing, that's all." Rachel took Kate's hand. "Once we leave here it's over; for good and all. I'll never see him again."

"Huh."

Now it was over. Tony and Derek had already left on a different flight to a different airport. They had both left their addresses, both postal and e-mail, but after their departure, Rachel had ostentatiously torn the paper up and thrown it away.

"It's not too late to retrieve it from the waste-paper basket," said Kate. They were both gloomily sitting on a settee in reception.

"I told you, I've no intention of getting involved in another relationship. I won't be seeing Tony again."

And she didn't.



Two Can Play Ch. 06



"Have a good time?" Paul asked.

"Wonderful," Rachel brightly responded.

"How many men did you fuck?"

"Is that for you to know?" Rachel was shocked by the brutality of the question.

"I think it is. What you do is very much my concern."

"We agreed on an open marriage, if you remember. That doesn't mean I have to tell you everything - nor you me. And frankly, I'd rather not hear about your activities whilst I was away."

"There‘s not much to tell."

"If you must know, there were four. Tony was the last."

"Was he good?"

Rachel nodded. "More than adequate."

"I'm pleased for you." Paul sighed. He was trembling slightly as he formed the fatal words. "I don't think I can take any more, Rachel. Come back to me properly - wholeheartedly - or…"

"Or what? Are you throwing me out?"

"I wouldn't put it quite like that."

"How would you put it?"

"I'm giving you a choice."

"Thanks a bunch." Rachel picked up her suitcase. "I won't bother to unpack. Our marriage hasn't been much of a success recently, has it? We'd probably be happier apart. We had ten good years together. It would be a pity to spoil them."

"As far as I'm concerned they're already ruined. I lost you the moment you walked in that door and discovered Carol and me, didn't I? You've never forgotten or forgiven."

"I tried to forgive."

"I have no idea how many men you've slept with since then, but I imagine there's a lot more forgiving for me to do."

"I haven't kept count," Rachel murmured.

"I'm sure you haven't." He went to the door leading to his study. "I've got to get back to work. My writing's suffering these days. I'm behind with 'Cottingly' and not written a word of my novel for weeks.

"Goodbye, Paul."

He stood in the doorway looking at her for a long moment, then left the room, carefully closing the door behind him. Rachel felt a tear trickle down her cheek.

*****

Rachel stayed with Kate for two weeks, but then managed to find a dingy furnished flat above a shop in a less than salubrious street. The rent was too high, the furniture dilapidated and worn, the paintwork peeling and scratched. Nevertheless it was her home, the first one not provided by someone else. 

The day after walking away from Paul she had phoned him to say she was all right. He suggested they might have been too hasty and perhaps she should return, but she thought it was over between them. Their love for each other had cooled and that was that. They had met once since, when Rachel returned to collect her clothes and some personal items. Kate went along, too, acting as a chaperone, referee and peace-keeper. The atmosphere was frosty, but no voices were raised in anger or recrimination.

Her next, and most important task, was to find a job. Looking through the adverts she found a vacancy for a cashier in a large store. She applied and was accepted, giving a fillip to her bruised ego. The pay was not overwhelmingly generous, but it would keep her going until she found something else.

It took a little time and several attempts, but eventually she was successful in obtaining a position as a public relations assistant for Trends Radio. It meant a substantial increase in salary and she was able to buy a used car. 

The opportunity for betterment came about quite accidentally when Rachel met Desmond Elliot. He worked with Kate - "Well, really, I work for him. He‘s the Controller." - and came across to their table in a bar. A substantial amount of liquor was downed that evening, but both Desmond and Rachel were fully aware of what they were doing when he took her back to his home afterwards. There was no wife or family to bother about as they were all in Scotland visiting her parents. The pet dog left in charge sniffed Rachel up and down, decided she was harmless and let the humans get on with their strange business.

The following morning Rachel thrust aside the guilt feelings at having bedded another woman's husband. She could remember only too clearly how devastated she had been when it happened to her, but reasoned that Mrs Elliot was ignorant of Desmond's infidelity. Over a breakfast of fruit and chamomile tea, Rachel talked about her frustrations at work and Desmond said he might be able to do something to help. He was as good as his word and, with his recommendation, she landed the job at Trends Radio, owned by a consortium led by Sir Hartley Bowers.

It was then that she considered getting a divorce from Paul. She saw a solicitor, who sat behind a large, imposing desk. It was old, badly scratched and cluttered.

"Have you been married for more than a year?" The solicitor made pencilled notes on a lined pad.

"Yes."

"Has the marriage broken down irretrievably?"

"I've left him."

"How long ago?"

"About six months."

The solicitor shook his bald head and looked over his glasses at her. "At least two years of living apart is required to obtain an automatic divorce. Also, your husband would have to be in agreement, otherwise a period of five years would be required."


"Oh." Julia stood up. "Well, thank you for your help."

A wave of the solicitor's hand sent her back onto her chair.

"No, no, no. We haven't reached the end of the line yet. Has he committed adultery?"

"Erm....yes."

"Ah." The solicitor made a note. "So you found out and left him."

"Well....not quite like that."

"No?"

"I didn‘t leave straight away."

The solicitor looked pensive. "Six months ago, you said."

"Yes."

"And when did he commit the adulterous act?"

"Oh, I don't know....I can't remember."

"Really?" The solicitor raised his eyebrows, removed his glasses and glared at his client. "Such an important matter as that and you can't remember?"

"A lot has happened since then."

"Do you think it was more than six months ago?"

"Oh, yes. I know it was."

"Much more?"

"Over a year."

"And you lived with him after that?"

"Yes."

"For more than six months?"

"Yes."

The solicitor scribbled furiously on his pad. "In that case, adultery cannot be used as grounds for divorce. You would be held to have forgiven him."

"I did....I suppose."

"Um. We seem to be left with unreasonable behaviour, a rather vague term which takes in many possibilities. If he is violent towards you, for instance....."

Julia shook her head.

"Frequently drunk."

"No."

"Obsessive behaviour in some way."

"Nothing I can think of."

"Financially irresponsible."

"No."

"Unreasonable sexual activity. A homosexual relationship would be an example."

Julia stood up once more. "Thank you for your help and time, Mr Craig, but forget it. Maybe I don't have grounds for a divorce."

"But we haven't yet explored every possibility."

"I'm sorry. I've explored all the possibilities I intend to explore. Good day."

Julia wasn't quite sure why she should feel so angry with the hapless solicitor, but angry she was and the door banged behind her.

*****

About two months after joining the firm Rachel was called up to Sir Hartley's office, an imposing room dominated by a large desk almost bare of paper, but with a computer screen at one end and a telephone at the other. Comfortably ensconced in a high-backed leather swivel chair was the proprietor of Trends Radio, a formidable man of business. In his mid-fifties, Sir Hartley was a large, florid man with a hail-fellow, well-met attitude, though many had found it best not to get on the wrong side of him.

"Sit down, Mrs Cooper, sit down." He waved in the general direction of a wicker-work chair. "I take it you have no objection to the appellation of Mrs? I deplore the modern trend of using Ms. It sounds so unpleasant. Like an angry bee."

"Not at all, sir."

"Splendid. You haven't been here long, have you?"

"Nearly two months, sir." Rachel felt nervous. Was he about to give her the sack?

"Settled in all right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good...good." Sir Hartley leaned back in his chair, hands clasped in front of him. "I have a specific job for you, but you're at perfect liberty to say no. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"An influential broadcaster is coming to town tomorrow. I hope to lure him onto our little radio station and my wife thought we should invite him to dinner. That makes a threesome. Bit awkward and overpowering for our guest; two of us, one of him. It occurred to me that he might be made more at ease by having another guest; an attractive young woman to smile at him and beguile him with her chatter. Mr. Elliot says you'd make a splendid job of it, and I think I agree, though I know a little less of you than he does."

Rachel wasn't quite certain what to make of the last remark. Had something been said between the two men of her one night stand with Desmond? Surely not. It seemed inconceivable that they should speak of such things, especially as he had committed adultery. All the same, she felt herself blush at the possible implication behind Sir Hartley's remark.

"He works much more closely with you in public relations and comes into daily contact, while I am necessarily more remote from the staff."

Rachel inwardly sighed with relief. She had obviously misconstrued the boss's meaning and her private life hadn't been made the subject of office gossip.

"What do you say, Mrs Cooper? Will you do this for me?"

Rachel smiled. "Of course, sir."

"Good. Good. I'll let Mr. Elliot know the final arrangements and he can organise everything for you."

"Thank you, sir."

"No, no. You're doing me the favour. Thank you."

The following afternoon Rachel was allowed away early to prepare herself for the evening. First stop was a hair salon, where she had an appointment, and then quickly home, where she had already spent hours the previous evening trying to decide which dress to wear. She finally decided upon a calf length lace dress with a halter neck, scalloped hem and gold satin lining. After donning the dress, Rachel looked critically at herself in the mirror. Her nipples could plainly be seen, pressing against the thin material. She tried a strapless bra, but it was uncomfortable and lumpy, so dispensed with it.

She pondered a moment, wondering if it would all be too embarrassing, then decided the dress suited her perfectly, complementing her pale skin and fair hair. Brief panties, stockings and black suede strappy shoes with 3½" heels completed the picture, except - her neck was bare. An inexpensive, but delicate and attractive necklace cured that problem; and a matching pair of earrings. Yes. She looked once more at the finished image in the mirror. Just right.

Rachel decided not to use her car, but ordered a taxi to take her to the high class restaurant where they were dining. This was a social occasion and she had no wish to be put in the position of refusing drinks. Nowadays almost anything was enough to put a driver over the legal limit and she didn't want to take a risk.

The taxi arrived promptly and deposited her at the restaurant ten minutes early, but even so, Hartley Bowers and his wife - was that really his wife? - were already seated at a small table by the bar, glasses in front of them. 

Sir Hartley politely stood up and eyed his employee from head to toe and back again, nodding his head in approval.

"Perfect, Mrs Cooper."

"My husband means you look lovely." Lady Bowers was in her early forties. Statuesque, with a magnificent figure, Rachel was reminded of pictures she had seen of the Bluebell Girls.

"Yes, Mrs Cooper.. Very....erm...." Sir Hartley searched for the right word. Alluring, sexy, enticing, seductive, tempting; he settled for - "attractive."

"Darling, you can't keep calling the poor girl, Mrs Cooper. After all, she is our dinner guest."

"Quite." Sir Hartley cleared his throat and looked at Rachel, a frown furrowing his brow. "Erm..." It was obvious he had no idea what to call his employee, apart from Mrs Cooper.

"Rachel." She helped him out.

"Ah, of course." Sir Hartley beamed in triumph at having overcome that particular hurdle. "I've ordered a bottle of Chablis. If you would prefer something different...."

"No...no, Chablis would be great."

"You'll be an escort for a very popular broadcaster tonight, Mrs....erm....Rachel. At least, he's popular in his own country, but I soon hope to make his name known over here. Bernardo Martine, from South America."

"Is that what I am, Sir Hartley?" enquired Rachel. "An escort?"

"Well...erm...in a manner of speaking. It simply means you're here to make the evening more companionable. This is a social occasion and I don't plan on discussing business...."

"I should hope not," Lady Bowers interjected.

"....but should the subject come up I don't expect any input from you, Rachel. Along with my wife you're here to add a little glamour to the evening."

"Oh, thank you very much." His wife's voice was laden with sarcasm. "Especially for the qualifying adjective."

Hartley Bowers looked ruffled. "I didn't mean that you're not both extremely attractive, or that you were not capable of intelligent conversation, but you're here to...to...divert us from business."

"I think you'd better shut up, darling, before you put your foot even deeper in the mud."

"Erm, yes. Perhaps so."

Lady Bowers turned to Rachel. "Apart from making some extremely dubious back-handed compliments, my husband is also forgetting his manners. We weren't introduced." She held out her hand. "My name is Margaret."

"Pleased to meet you."

The Chablis arrived to be followed shortly after by their guest. Bernardo Martine was everything a girl could wish for in a man; tall, perfectly groomed, suave, film star good looks and charming. He spoke softly, his English being extremely fluent, with just the faintest hint of an accent. Both women were instantly fascinated by him and the three of them talked and laughed throughout the evening leaving Sir Hartley as the outsider. He was not displeased; it was obvious his guest was thoroughly enjoying himself and that could only augur well for the business to be conducted next day. 

They parted outside the restaurant, Sir Hartley and his wife leaving in a chauffeur driven limousine.

"You have a car?" enquired Bernardo, gazing after the departing limousine.

Rachel shook her head. "Not with me. I didn't want to drive after drinking."

"Very wise."

"There are laws."

"Of course. You live far?"

"About fifteen minutes in a taxi."

Bernardo gazed at Rachel for a moment or two, looking like a little lost puppy. "This is a big city. The night is young and I am on my own. I would take it as a compliment if you would show me something of the nightlife."

Rachel hesitated. "Well..."

"Perhaps a club," Bernardo suggested.

"There's a disco around the corner." Rachel sounded dubious. "It's very loud...flashing lights....crowded."

"Sounds good."

"I'm not sure about that."

"Please. Let us go."

The disco was everything Rachel said it was and more. Very noisy, dimly lit, the flashing lights around the dance area having little impact anywhere else, and so crowded it was impossible for anyone to attempt anything more than jigging up and down on one spot. Bernardo, however, was filled with enthusiasm and he soon had Rachel up on the floor.

It was one big jam of people, bodies pressed close together and any movement there was bore little resemblance to dancing. Rachel's nipples hardened beneath the thin material of her dress as her breasts pushed against Bernardo's chest. There was also an unmistakeable stiffening around his loins. A hand explored her bottom, cupping a cheek on top of her dress. But it wasn't Bernardo's hand! Both of his were in sight, held high, his fingers clicking in time to the music.

If there had been room Rachel would have turned and given the invader a piece of her mind, but she could do nothing. The whole situation was obscene. The strange hand groped again, but this time pushing into her crack through the material of her dress. This was too much! She did her best to glare ferociously over her shoulder, but not one pair of eyes met hers.

"I want to get out of her," Rachel shouted.

Bernardo replied, but his words were lost in the noise. Rachel grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd making free use of her elbows. Even in the foyer conversation was difficult because of the thumping bass emanating from the disco.

"We are going?" enquired Bernardo, as Rachel made her way out to the street.

"I can't stand it any longer. Anyway, someone was pawing me."

Bernardo looked puzzled. "Pawing?"

"Touching me up. You know...." Bernardo shook his head. "Feeling my bottom," Rachel explained.

"Ah. And that is not right."

"Not some stranger in the middle of a crowd. No."

"But if it is not a stranger and in some other, more private place?"

"That might be different."

"Am I a stranger?"

"I don't know you very well, but you are a friend of Mr. Bowers and we've had dinner together."

"And been to a disco." There was a mischievous twinkle in Bernardo's eyes.

Rachel nodded. "And been to a disco."

They laughed and Bernardo took hold of her hand. "My hotel is not far away. There is no stranger there to touch your bottom. We could have a quiet drink in my room."

"In your room?"

"It is very comfortable."

"I'm sure it is."

"What do you say?"

There was no doubt what he had in mind and it wasn't a quiet drink. She hardly knew the man, but liked his warm, friendly manner; and he really was so handsome.

"Yes. All right."

Bernardo was right about the room being comfortable; so was the bed, though Rachel didn't find out about that until later. They had a couple of drinks first and danced to some soft, gentle music piped through the hotel system. They were as close together as in the disco, but this time there was no crush of bodies around them.

After a few minutes of lazy movement, Rachel gently pushed Bernardo onto a settee.

"Sit and watch." She slowly gyrated in front of him. 

She unzipped her dress, her movement unhurried and tantalising. For a few moments she modestly held it in position, before lowering it to the ground. Stepping out she kicked it to one side.

Bernardo gazed intently at Rachel as she sashayed three feet away from him, naked except for brief panties, suspender belt and stockings. She came even closer until her legs were touching the edge of the settee.

"You mustn't touch," Rachel instructed.

She kneeled on the settee, his legs between hers, and then, her body movement keeping time with the music, leaned towards him. Her breasts almost, but not quite, brushed his face and her sex hovered only inches above Bernardo's penis, still encased in trousers, but visibly erect.

"I think you have worked in a lap-top club, have you not?" asked Bernardo, his voice slightly strangulated as he fought for control. 

Rachel laughed. "No."

"You are very good."

"Thank you."

"I must confess to having visited such clubs." 

"I'm sure you have."

He reached into a pocket and brought out some paper money. "They have the quaint custom of putting money into the girl's garter."

"I'm not wearing a garter."

"This will do." He pushed the notes into her suspender belt.

For some reason the touch of money against her skin excited Rachel even more and heaven knows, she needed little encouragement. Cupping her breasts in her hands she leaned towards Bernardo and presented her nipples to his lips, swaying back a few inches as he went to take one.

"Ah, ah, ah." She wagged a finger at him.

"I know," he replied. "Look, but do not touch."

Rachel carefully raised herself up until she was standing on the settee, precariously balanced on the soft cushions, her feet either side of his legs. Her most private place was now on a level with his head. With some difficulty, and nearly falling once, only being saved by Bernardo grabbing her arm, she lowered her panties as far as they would go. Now her pubic hair was only inches from his face. Rachel felt her juices running down her legs and could only imagine what this display was doing to Bernardo; at least, she hoped it was.




Two Can Play Ch. 06



Leaning back as far as she dare without losing her balance, Rachel fingered her labia, pulling them apart in order to give Bernardo a full view of the treat that awaited him.

"Oh, no," he moaned. "Do not do this to me."

"You're not enjoying it?" asked Rachel, in some surprise.

"Too much. Too much. I need relieving."

"You should train yourself to hold on."

"Normally I can, but this....too much, too much." He frantically pulled at the zip on his trousers in an effort to release his throbbing penis from captivity. "I am going to make a mess of myself. I need a receptacle to take my seed."

"Do you expect me to provide it?" Rachel feigned indignation

"If you would be so kind." Bernardo moaned again. "And quickly, if you please."

Rachel was encumbered by her panties, still around her legs, manacling them together. Holding onto the back of the settee with one hand, she reached down and released her left leg. By this time Bernardo had succeeded in bringing out his penis, hard, throbbing and ready to enter her.

Rachel lowered herself and took all of him in. She felt his pulsing cock against the walls of her vagina as it plunged ever deeper towards her womb. It was obvious relief had arrived just in time and almost immediately Bernardo let out a cry as his semen rushed out of one tunnel and into another. Rachel's hands tightly gripped the back of the settee as she achieved orgasm.

As the tension left her body she sagged down, once more bringing her breasts close to Bernardo's face. This time his lips greedily sucked on her nipples, one after the other, and this time Rachel didn't issue an instruction not to touch. She had always understood that a man needed time to recover before he was ready for action again, but in remarkably short order she felt life filling the penis inside her.

She began to grind her legs against his and the erection became even more pronounced. Bernardo was still at work on her breasts, his tongue circling round her areola, then his lips teasing and gently pulling on her nipples. All his concentration was on that part of her body, whilst his cock had a mind of its own, swelling and filling Rachel's vagina once more.

She reached down to her clitoris and pressed her finger against it whilst making a circular movement with her hand. Self-masturbation, combined with Bernardo kissing and sucking her breasts and the rapidly hardening rod inside her, was sending her soaring back up to a climax once more. Her skin felt as if it was alive with a myriad pricks and tingles and flushed with a red glow. Taking her weight onto her knees she raised up until the penis had almost emerged from its cocoon, then sank down again, repeating the action with a quickening rhythm.

Bernardo suddenly threw his head back against the settee, abandoning his work on her breasts. His eyes were closed and face crumpled as he felt the semen surging up his cock before bursting out into the vagina. The relief and pleasure he felt made him gasp. 

Rachel wasted no time, but pulled the penis out, dropped down onto the floor and immediately began to lick her own juices and his semen. 

She looked up. "You don't mind?"

"Of course not. But do not expect to harden me again. Twice in such a short time is a minor miracle. I would not be surprised if I am not finished for the night."

Rachel smiled. "We'll see."

He was only partly right. She was unable to do anything with him just then, but they had a relaxing drink before going to bed where they resumed love-making. Once more they both achieved satisfaction.

It was 3 o'clock in the morning and an air of somnambulance lay over the hotel when Bernardo saw Rachel safely into a taxi and waved her off. Only then did she remember the money still tucked into her suspender belt. The events of that night had all been conducted with her stockings on and she had forgotten it. For a moment she considered returning it, but then dismissed the idea as being impractical. She would have to keep it.

Bernardo Martine signed up with Trends Radio and broadcast a regular weekly programme from his native Brazil through the wonders of satellite. It was a lively mix of news and views and the rhythms of South America. As Sir Hartley had predicted, Bernardo quickly became very popular and a great asset to the station, helping to raise the listening figures. Rachel always wondered how much of a part she had played in obtaining his services. Certainly her boss was pleased with her, though he had no idea exactly how far she had gone.

Of course, it was her own idea; she wanted to have sex with Bernardo and, although in the back of her mind she might have thought it would be good for the business, that was not the reason she had gone to his hotel. She struck a barren period after that as far as men were concerned. The drought was ended when Desmond Elliot called her into his office.



Two Can Play Ch. 07



Both Rachel and Kate were in Desmond's office.

"There's a media conference in Amsterdam next month. I want the two of you to go and represent Trends. It's likely to be pretty boring. These things usually are, but I still feel that we should make our presence felt."

"Most definitely," Rachel agreed.

"The conference lasts two days, so I'll book two single rooms for three nights."

"No need to do that," said Kate. "We're happy to share a double."

Desmond raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

Kate laughed. "You needn't look like that. There's no significance in our willingness to share. Except to save Trends money."

"The true voice of an auditor speaking," murmured Desmond. "I'm glad you're so concerned about the financial health of your employer. Relax whilst you're in Amsterdam. No need to take the conference too seriously. Have some fun."

Both women looked at each other and giggled. "Oh, we will."

Five weeks later they flew out of Heathrow, landing at Schipol after a smooth flight. A pre-booked (and inclusive) taxi dodged through the Amsterdam traffic, weaving through narrow streets until it arrived at the hotel a short distance from Centraal Station in the centre of the city. They were staying at the Holiday Inn Crowne Plaza.

"A lively and tastefully decorated hotel." Kate quoted from the holiday brochure.

"The bed's comfortable, anyway." Rachel bounced up and down, then flung herself onto her back, both legs splayed over the edge. She was wearing trousers and a top that came just below her breasts, leaving a bare midriff.

"The bathroom's a treat." Kate had been poking around examining the room. "I think I'll have a shower." She began to strip off.

"We've only just arrived." Rachel propped herself up on an elbow.

"I feel all hot and sticky after travelling."

"It didn't take us long."

"Doesn't matter. I'm ready for a shower." 

Kate pulled off her panties, then her bra, which she'd left till last. Lightly running into the bathroom, she closed the door. After a few moments the toilet flushed, shortly followed by the sound of water in the shower.

Rachel reached for the TV remote control and turned on the impressively large set. It was CNN News. She flicked along the channels until she came to a film; not one that she recognised, but it was in English with subtitles in Dutch. Propping herself up on the pillows she sat back to watch.

Kate held up her face as the warm water sprayed out from the shower head, cascading onto her shoulders and coursing between and around her breasts. The nipples were hardening, gently caressed by the tumbling water. She slowly rubbed her hands down her sides and onto her stomach, feeling too much flabbiness for her liking. She wanted a firm, flat stomach, not one where she could pinch out rolls of fat. Well, one roll; and maybe it wasn't so very thick.

Kate slid her hands upwards beneath her breasts and held them out for closer inspection. She liked to look. Many women were embarrassed by their tits; they even refused to use that term for them. But not Kate. She frequently admired herself in the mirror and didn't consider it narcissim. She liked to look. It was perfectly understandable to her why men should set such great store by them, getting a hard-on merely by gazing at a well rounded pair.

She began to finger her nipples, teasing them out even harder than they were. Her sex was tingling. She was ready for a man, but there wasn't one on hand. Leaning into the corner of the shower, she took her weight onto her left leg, bending the knee slightly, then lifted her right leg, placing her foot on her left knee. The resulting triangle of her legs left her vulva exposed. Easing apart the lips, Kate pushed two fingers into her vagina.

Using the fingers of her other hand she vigorously rubbed her clitoris at the same time as pumping in and out. The warm water was still brushing down the skin of her breasts keeping the nipples in a state of arousal. As she thrust in and out, Kate tried to imagine a man's cock inside her instead of her own fingers. It would be so much longer and thicker, satisfying her more. Even though she did a pretty good job of masturbating, it was always a second best experience. That was the main reason she had no interest in other women; she desperately needed that final male penetration.

With a low moan she reached her climax. She knew her juices would be dribbling down her thighs, although she couldn't feel them as the water washed them away. Sinking down onto her haunches, she luxuriated in the warm and wet cocoon.

*****

Guide books in hand, Rachel and Kate ventured out of the hotel into Damrak, a bustling street with shops, hotels, restaurants and souvenir shops jostling for attention on one side and a canal on the other. The buildings were narrow and high with a bewildering array of signs, beginning at street level and climbing up the facades. Half way down Damrak the canal gave way to an anonymous red-bricked structure.

"That must be the Beurs." Rachel was studying a small guide book.

"Come again."

"Former Stock Exchange."

"Interesting." A sniff accompanying the word revealed Kate's true feeling to be the opposite.

They walked along through the crowds, jumping several times at angry bicycle bells behind them, and entered Dam Square, the site where the Amstel River was dammed in the 13th century. This led to a small fishing village being turned into a major city and port.

"That's where the name comes from," announced Rachel, nose buried in book. "Amstel and dam. Get it?"

"I'm not stupid." Kate grabbed her friend's arm and pulled her back. "Watch out!"

A brightly painted yellow single-deck tram trundled past, rumbling and clanking along the rails sunk into the road. The lines snaked their way around and across the square, disappearing down a multitude of streets. The whole scene was a hubbub of activity; crowds of pedestrians milling around, trams coming and going in every direction, street entertainers, cars, lorries, and bicycles; bicycles everywhere, bells furiously ringing as they carved an imperious path through the chaos.

"How does he do that?" asked Kate.

They were staring at a costumed figure, clown-like in appearance, with a white face and gloved hands holding a flower, standing on a box in the middle of the square. Not even the blink of an eye disturbed the absolute stillness.

"Perhaps it's a woman."

"Can't tell."

There were others gathered around the still figure. Some people put coins in a velvet bag by the side of the box. After what seemed an eternity, the living statue brought the flower up to its nose as if to smell the aroma, then held the new position as if once more turned to stone.

Kate shook her head in amazement. "Brilliant." She threw down some coins.

"How much did you give?"

"No idea. Whatever, he, she or it deserves something. There's no way I could stay still that long."

They left Dam Square and walked around a maze of narrow streets, even the main thoroughfare only being wide enough for a single tram line. It became a double track at the stops.

"I suppose they've got to time it so they meet there and can pass each other." Rachel was looking at two trams ahead of them.

Crossing over a busy intersection, they walked along another narrow street and saw a sex shop and cinema showing hard-core films.

"Have you ever seen a porno movie?" Rachel asked.

"Yes - once. This guy I knew had a collection; quite into it, he was. Anyway, one night he put one on for us to watch. I think he usually reserved them for himself or his buddies. I got the distinct impression he was doing me a favour letting me see it and I ought to be suitably grateful."

"What did you think?"

"Pretty boring. Anyway, we didn't last long. Got busy doing our own thing."

"So the video turned you on."

"I suppose." Kate shrugged. "We'd probably have fucked without it."

"I've never seen one."

"You'll get your chance tonight, I imagine."

Rachel's eyes opened wide. "Really? Why?"

"I expect one of the in-house movies will be porno. Usually is over here."

"That's great."

Kate smiled. "I think you'll be in for a disappointment."

But, the evening was still far off and there was a lot of sight-seeing to do. They had lunch in Le Pêcheur, a moderately expensive seafood restaurant.

"After all, the hotel and travel are all paid for, as well as some pocket money." Kate was massaging an aching foot. "We can afford to splash out a bit on food."

"Um." Rachel smacked her lips in appreciation as she cleared the last morsel off her plate. "That was delicious."

"Yes indeedy. Nice surroundings, too."

"We could go to the Anne Frank house this afternoon."

"Is it far?"

Rachel had the guide book open. "Doesn't look like it. Back to Dam Square, turn left, then right."

It was further than it looked, especially as they chose the wrong canal, went up it, across to a second and down that, with no sign of their quarry. The book came out again, opened at the map.

"It's not very clear, is it?" grumbled Kate.

"The house should be around here somewhere." Rachel looked around. "We're trying to find Prinsengracht."

"Where's this?"

Rachel glanced at a street sign. "Herengracht."

"So where's Prin....whatever you said?"

"Don't know. Can't be far away."

"Don't think my legs are going to hold me up much longer."

"Let's go along there." Rachel pointed off to the left. "That street's going across the canals. Maybe it'll take us to Prinsengracht."

"I hope so."

Kate wearily trooped along behind Rachel who was briskly walking over a bridge. Eventually they arrived at the elusive Prinsengracht, running in both directions.

"Now which way?" Kate sounded silghtly breathless and very fed up.

"Well....." Rachel looked to her right, then her left. "I don't know which way the house might be."

"Can't we ask somebody?"

"We're in Holland."

"They all speak English. I'll ask her." Kate indicated an elderly woman slowly coming towards them, a shopping bag in each hand. She was dressed in dark clothes, which looked two sizes too big, and heavy ankle boots; her walk was more of a shuffle. "Excuse me," said Kate, brightly. "Can you help us? We're look....."

The woman shook her head, muttering something unintelligible, and shuffled on.

"Oh." Kate was deflated.

"We'll try this way." Rachel set off.

It was the wrong choice. They went the length of the canal without finding Anne Frank's house; in fact, they were nearly back at Centraal Station! They retraced their steps and eventually found the house, almost at the other end. By that time they both needed a coffee; luckily, there was a small cafe down a few steps adjacent to the museum.

The Frank family lived for over two years in five small rooms, one of them no more than a landing. Now empty and bare, with a couple of doll's house models showing how they were furnished, the rooms still seemed to preserve the spirit of Anne Frank. Both Rachel and Kate were deeply moved as they wandered through the annexe where the famous diary had been written. There was also an exhibition of period photographs, extracts from the diary, newspaper cuttings and documents relating to the German occupation.

They were quiet on the walk back to the hotel, both of them lost in their own thoughts of what it must have been like for a young, lively girl to be cooped up for such a long time. All through the day complete silence had to be maintained, even a creaking floor board was enough to betray them, for the danger of discovery was ever present.

Back in their room, Rachel and Kate had recovered themselves enough to plan what to do with their evening.

"Let's stay in," Kate suggested.

"In the room, do you mean?"

"Course not, silly. The hotel. We can go for a sauna, have a swim, then dinner in the restaurant." Kate held up the hotel information folder. "Dutch specialities in a 17th century ambience, according to this brochure. Afterwards we can curl up and watch a film."

Rachel's eyes lit up. "Porno."

Kate sighed. "If you insist."

"I do."

"But I promise you'll be bored in five minutes."

"I want to see."

"Then you shall."

*****

The evening was a total success and they returned to their room fully satisfied with the decision to stay in and enjoy the hotel facilities. The meal was excellent and well washed down with oude jenever, a fairly sweet gin with a beer chaser. As a result they both felt high, though far from drunk.

Kate had a leisurely shower whilst Rachel filled in a word puzzle, then they changed over. Totally relaxed and refreshed after their pleasant evening they propped themselves up in bed and switched on the TV. Flicking through the channels they soon found what they were looking for and settled back to ogle the antics on the screen.

The film was part way through, but they soon realised it mattered little, for there was no discernible plot, only a series of sexual couplings with an extremely thin excuse for them in between. It was a party scene; probably a dozen people in the room all in a state of nudity. The men were all sporting large and erect cocks.

"Wow!" gasped Rachel. "Fancy having that inside you." A close-up of a particularly impressive male member had inspired the thought.

"I do." Kate felt a faint and familiar wetness at her crotch.

The screen action began in earnest and the camera moved around, briefly lingering on different couples. An attractive dark haired girl was laid out on a settee with her knees bent and vulva exposed. A second girl, kneeling by the side of the settee, busily flicked her tongue at the most sensitive part of dark hair, whilst reaching up to squeeze her breasts. The reaction to such treatment was predictable and the first girl was writhing around in the throes of ecstasy.

Meanwhile, the second girl, whose bottom was raised up, was taken in the rear by the stiff cock of an anonymous donor, nothing being seen of the man except the area around his genitals. Tentatively probing for a moment or two, the cock finally slid in, disappearing from view as it buried itself deep into the vagina. 

The camera moved on to a man lying back in a chair, a woman between his legs, vigorously sucking at the upstanding penis. 

"That looks good," Rachel murmured.

"They all look good." Kate's body was growing clammy with desire. "I wish we had a couple of them in the room right now."

"Pity we didn't meet anybody downstairs at the pool or in the sauna."

"This hotel's not that kind of place. Too grand. Too stuck-up."

"I thought you liked it here."

"I do, but.....Oh, look at that!" Kate broke off, her eyes wide as she gazed at the screen.

The woman who had been sucking was now impaled on the cock, leaning forward to bring her breasts into the man's face. He began kissing her nipples and tweaking them with his lips. Meanwhile, another man had joined them. Standing behind the woman, he inserted his rampant weapon into her anus.

"God!" Rachel cried out, as if it was her sandwiched between the cocks. "Two of them at the same time."

"Most impressive." Kate parted her thighs slightly, yielding to the pressure of desire.

"Have you ever.....?"

"Had two simultaneously?" Kate shook her head. "No."

"In the anus?"

"No."

The girl's distorted face was shown, the camera shooting over man in chair's shoulder.

"Do you think she looks like that because she's excited or in pain?" asked Rachel.

"Either way, I'd like some of it." 

Kate had never shared a bed with another woman; on their holiday in Gran Canaria they'd had twin beds. Now, watching a sexy movie, she was uncomfortably aware of a female body, clad in nothing more substantial than a see-through short nightie, only inches away from her. There was a small pulsing in the area of her clitoris and she longed to finger herself, but was too embarrassed.

On the screen a woman was crushing a hardened penis between her large breasts, rolling them around with her hands. In the background the two women around the settee were still busy working each other over, whilst the woman with two cocks in her was still writhing in ecstasy or agony.

The camera then concentrated on a man lying flat on the floor on his back. A woman, facing his feet, was sat on his penis, grinding and squeezing it with her thighs. Another woman was crouched on her haunches at his head, allowing him to use his tongue on her vagina. At the same time, she was reaching around the woman in front to fondle her breasts.

A low moan escaped Kate's lips.

"Did you say something?" Rachel asked, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"Nothing." Kate's voice was hoarse with restrained desire.

"You said I'd be bored in five minutes. I think this is great."

"It's.....very effective." Kate hesitated a moment, then took the plunge. "Rachel."

"Um?"

"Have you ever...ever done it with a woman?"

"No. Never."

"Have you thought about it?"

"I suppose we all fantasise sometimes."

"What if....." Kate swallowed. "What if the fantasy came true?"

Rachel looked at her for the first time. "Like here and now?"

"Yes."

"I'm game." Without more ado, Rachel peeled her nightie off.

Although she had initiated the idea, Kate was more reluctant to take the plunge. After a moment's hesitation she pulled her night dress over her head. Rachel stripped the bed of covers.

"Lie on your back," she instructed.

Kate, despite being the older of the two, allowed her friend to take the lead. She lay back, her legs slightly parted. The slight pulsing of her clitoris had become a full blown throbbing. Rachel stretched out on top and began to grind her abdomen, rubbing her pubic hair against Kate's. Their breasts, too, were swinging against each other.

Lowering her head, Rachel tentatively attempted to kiss Kate, lightly brushing their lips together, but received little encouragement.

"You've got to loosen up," she whispered.

"I'm not sure this was a good idea." Kate's whole body had become tense, but she wasn't sure whether it was through lust or distaste.

"It must be better than nothing. Relax and leave everything to me."

Rachel slowly slid down towards the foot of the bed, planting small kisses on Kate's breasts, stomach, abdomen and thighs. Having reached the pubic area, Rachel lay flat on her tummy with her legs stretched out onto the floor. Delicately pulling back the outer labia, she revealed the reddened interior of the vagina, wet with the juices of desire. The little hard knob of the clitoris was screaming out for attention.

Rachel flicked her tongue along the vagina lips and used her finger to stimulate the clitoris. A loud moan showed that her efforts were having some effect on Kate. She was caressing her own breasts, pulling and rolling the nipples with her fingers, as Rachel saw when she briefly looked up. Satisfied she was doing everything right, she plunged her tongue deep into Kate's vagina, probing as far as it would go. 

"Aaa!" The moan turned into a cry of joy. 

The obvious pleasure she was bringing to Kate had an effect on Rachel. Her own juices were ready to flow and she rubbed her pubic area against the edge of the bed, stimulating herself even more. Kate's breath was coming in ever shorter gasps; with all muscles tensed and her eyes tightly closed, her head writhed from side to side as she rose up to an orgasm.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!" A whole series of low moans was followed by "Aaaaa!" A loud cry. 

Rachel felt Kate's juices pouring out and eagerly lapped them up. The sound coming from the television imitated that of the bedroom. Neither woman was drawn to look; they were now too busy doing and had no need to watch.

"Your turn," Kate murmured.

"Wait a mo." Rachel stood up, crossed the room to a dressing table, picked up a soft hair brush, then returned to the bed where she straddled Kate, bottom next to head. Rachel gently stroked her friend's pubic area and vulva with the brush as she felt fingers probing her own genitalia.




Two Can Play Ch. 07



It took no time for Rachel's labia to be spread, her vagina eager to have something inside. Kate inserted two fingers and twisted them around whilst pushing them in and out. Rachel gasped at the sensations running through her and momentarily stopped her brush work, unable to think of anything but the pleasure being given to her. After savouring the feeling for a moment, she bent forward and began to lick Kate's cleft.

"I'm going to fuck you stupid," a male voice growled on the television. No doubt he proceeded to do his best, but neither of the women in the hotel room were taking any notice.

Kate continued working her fingers around in Rachel's vagina, but also used her other hand to probe the anus. Wetting a finger, she gently circled around the delicate opening before slowly pushing into it.

"Aa!" Rachel caught her breath and gave a low cry as she felt the penetration. It was only a slim woman's finger; what would it be like to have a man's thick penis in there? She didn't know whether she wanted to find out or preferred to remain in ignorance.

"Am I hurting you?" Kate enquired.

"No," Rachel gasped. "No...it's....it's....Aa! God! It's sensational. I'm going to come."

She did; head and shoulders jerked back and she let out a long cry before collapsing down on top of Kate. The reaction was enough to bring her to a climax, too, and they both lay, head to toes, breathing heavily.

After a minute or so, Rachel had recovered sufficiently to pull herself up and sit back against the pillows, facing the television. It had gone blank and silent, though neither of them had realised.

"Must have finished," Kate murmured, struggling into an upright position.

"Like us." Rachel giggled.

"It was good, wasn't it?"

"Um." Rachel nodded. "Worth doing. I think I know now why men are so attracted to women. Our bodies are wonderful."

She cuddled into Kate and idly began to caress her breast.



Two Can Play Ch. 08



They woke up to sunshine and blue skies with wisps of white cloud dotted around. After working out in the fitness room for half an hour on various instruments of torture, they enjoyed a good breakfast, mainly consisting of fruit.

"Much better for us than eggs and bacon." Kate sat back with a satisfied sigh.

"Um." Rachel was still finishing off an orange.

"I suppose we'll have to put in an appearance at the conference this morning."

"What about the afternoon?" asked Rachel.

"We‘ll play hooky."

"Great. I think a priority should be a trip on the canals."

"Oh, yes. Must do that." Kate picked up a multi-fold leaflet which she had collected earlier. "How about getting tickets for this Circle Tram 20? We'll be able to travel all day, hopping on and off where and when we like."

"Sounds fine."

It proved to be a good decision. The conference was every bit as boring as predicted and the two friends only stayed a couple of hours. 

"More than long enough," said Kate.

Travelling around was trouble free and they saw a great deal of Amsterdam. During the course of the day they stopped off at the Rijksmuseum, which housed an extensive collection of Dutch paintings, a couple of shopping centres and the Holland Experience, sights and sounds of the country seen from a moving auditorium.

Their last stop, back at Centraal Station, was to board a boat for a one hour trip around the canals. Amsterdam, the Venice of the North, actually has more canals than the Italian city, and the best way to see them is from a boat. The view of passing buildings is entirely different on the water and the accompanying commentary enables the visitor to get an insight into the life and history of the city.

There was only one blot on the trip. Rachel and Kate were constantly being eyed by three young men, sitting on the opposite side of the boat. They talked loudly and laughed, obviously making remarks about the two women, but it was all in a foreign language and the substance could only be surmised. 

"Italian or Spanish," said Kate. "I'm not sure which. Certainly doesn't sound like Dutch."

"I don't care what it is." Rachel felt herself colouring. "I can imagine what they're saying. It makes me more embarrassed than if I understood every word."

Disembarking from the boat, Rachel and Kate hurried away down a narrow street round the corner from their hotel. A short distance down they came to a sex shop. To their surprise, several women of varying ages were going in and coming out. They looked at each other.

"Shall we?" Rachel asked.

Kate shrugged. "Why not?"

The shop was well stocked with magazines, books, tapes, CDs and DVDs, all devoted to one subject. Sex.

They began to browse through the racks of magazines offering every kind of sex, many of them deviant.

"Look at this," Rachel whispered. "Can you imagine doing it with an animal?"

"That's a good description of some of the men I've known," Kate drily remarked.

Rachel picked up a magazine and opened it. The first two pages introduced two girls 'In a Little Orgy Mood'. Most of the double spread was taken up with a close-up of Ingrid with an erect penis between her lips. The remainder was taken up by the same girl on her back, looking towards the camera between her legs which were up in the air. Her hands, wrapped around the back of her thighs, held her outer labia open, revealing the luscious interior of her sex. Beneath it was a picture of Greta, kneeling on a bed, back to camera but looking over her shoulder. Her legs were slightly apart, giving a tantalising glimpse of her slit.

The sight was enough to send a thrill of excitement through Rachel. She seriously wondered if she might be bi-sexual, so was so easily turned on by looking at photographs of another woman. The previous night she had been affected by the antics of the performers in the film and not by Kate's body. But now she longed to touch and probe female genitals that were not hers.

The next pages were devoted to both girls, singly or together, sucking, caressing and squeezing the penis. In one shot Greta's finger was inserted into Ingrid's vagina, whilst the latter's breasts were being kissed by both man and woman. Both of the girls were entered from the rear or front and the final scene showed semen splashing onto their breasts.

An overweight woman was featured next, shaving her pussy and then sticking all manner of things into herself, including the handle of the shaving brush and a candle. Once again, absolutely nothing was left to the imagination, although in this case, Rachel thought it might have been wiser.

Lisa came next. One girl, two men. Wearing a bowler and a black bra, cut-away around her nipples, black suspender belt and stockings, she looked like a nearly undressed version of Sally Bowles in 'Cabaret'. The sequence began with her thrusting a red dildo into her vagina and then anus. The two men joined her, one kissing her breasts, the other pushing the narrow neck of a bottle into her private holes. According to the text she had a fixation for anuses. The following shots showed her sucking one cock, whilst the second man worked the bottle into her.

After that she was penetrated by both men, mostly in her anus, but in two shots both men were in both places at the same time. 

"Just like the film last night," Rachel whispered.

"And may I remind you where that led us?" Kate indicated the magazine. "This kind of thing could have the same result in the middle of the shop."

"I know what you mean." Rachel was aware of her breasts swelling, nipples hardening and a dampness around her crotch as she studied the pictures. 

The final shots in Lisa's sequence were of both penises shooting their semen at the same time over her face, her lips, eyes and nose liberally coated with the thick, creamy substance. She finished with both cocks, now clearly deflating, in her mouth.

Rachel knew her face was a bright red; she could feel it burning; she was also wet between her legs. She pressed her hand against her pubic area and leaned against the wooden display unit to give herself support and hide her actions.

"God, I'm going to come," she softly groaned.

"You can't," Kate snapped. "Put the bloody thing down and let's get out of here."

"I....I daren't move."

"I'm not with you." Kate turned away.

Fascinated by the photographs, despite her embarrassing reaction to them, and having the use of only one hand, Rachel put the magazine down on the display unit. She flipped over the pages and came to an orgy of three men and three women, doing everything to each other. The last two pages were a sequence of pictures showing a woman in close-up, sucking a penis and bringing it to a climax. Withdrawn at the last moment, it spurted semen into her mouth and her tongue lapped it up.

Rachel moaned, her fingers working frantically through her clothes at her clitoris and pushing into her vagina. She desperately needed a cock; she wanted to......

"You should buy it and look in private."

Rachel gasped. It was a man's voice close to her ear. She quickly shut the magazine and thrust it back in place, removing her hand at the same time. Her juices were flowing and she was convinced they were dripping on the floor at her feet. There would be a little pool left where she'd been standing.

"If you are too embarrassed I will get it for you."

"Please go away," Rachel hissed.

"I am trying to help a visitor to my country. You English are so....what is the word? Coy. Yes. Coy about these matters." The man waved his hand at the general display of sex books.

Rachel scowled at him. He really wasn't bad looking; handsome, in fact. No; more than that. Long fair hair tied back in a pony tail, tall and muscular, a straight nose, firm lips with a hint of a smile and a strong chin all added up to dishy.

"How did you know I was English?"

The man shrugged. "How does one know these things? There is a look, an air; besides, I heard you speak."

"Oh. Not so very clever then?"

"No. Only a little detective."

"Not so very little." Rachel smiled. "Not the parts I can see, anyway."

"Ah. You are wondering, perhaps, if I look anything like this." The man indicated the cover of a magazine. The picture showed a naked woman sucking an extremely large cock.

"That's very impressive. Almost too good to be true."

"We can make a comparison if you like."

"Here?"

The man looked around at the busy shop and grinned. "I think here might be too public, even for Amsterdam. There is a place more private."

"Where might that be?"

"I have a houseboat not far from here."

"You live on a houseboat?"

"Yes. Many people do. There are nearly three thousand houseboats in Amsterdam."

"I have a friend." Rachel indicated Kate who had moved off to another counter.

"I have a brother. A little older."

"My friend is a little older."

The man laughed. "We are all made for each other. I am Dirk Campen; my brother is Jan."

"Where is he?"

Dirk looked at his watch. "On his way from work. You will come?"

"I'll see what Kate says."

Kate was less than enthusiastic and more than a little reluctant to go off with a stranger to his house, even if it was a boat. After a little persuasion she agreed to accompany her friend. 

Dirk's houseboat was moored on the Singel Canal, only a few minutes walk away, in the middle of a long line. Black hulled, with a red superstructure, it was a converted barge, long, low, but much wider than the narrow boats on the English canals. On the outside it looked rather dismal and drab, needing more than a lick of paint, but inside it was welcoming and cosy with neat lace curtains at the small windows and comfortable cushioned seats amidships. A television sat on a wooden storage unit on one side, whilst on the other was a Hi-fi system. The stern was taken up by a table, at right angles to the wall, with seats on either side of it, sufficient for four people. On the opposite wall a computer stood on a desk against the end wall.

In the forward area were two armchairs, a coffee table and a door.....

"To the bedrooms," Dirk casually explained. "And over there...." he pointed to a door at the opposite end...."is the kitchen."

"I could do with the bathroom," Kate muttered.

"Next to the bedroom."

"Thanks." She was still moody.

"I think your friend wishes she had not come." Dirk was looking at the bedroom door.

"She'll soon come round." Rachel was studying some prints on the wall. "I recognise some of these. We saw them this morning in an art gallery, only they were enormous. Some of them took up a whole wall." 

Dirk smiled. "Yes, I think I do not have room for the originals."

Rachel turned to him. "Or the money."

"You are correct. Anyway, it is only right that they are to be seen by everyone, is that not so?"

Rachel solemnly nodded her head. "It is so."

Dirk waved a finger at her. "I think you make a mock of me, naughty girl."

"You haven't seen me being naughty yet."

"In the sex shop I think you misbehave a little."

Rachel coloured. "Oh. You noticed."

"The pictures bring desire. Yes?"

"Yes."

"You would like a coffee?"

Rachel was taken by surprise at the swift change of subject. "Oh...erm....please."

"And your friend?"

"I should think so."

"Good. I put the kettle on. My brother will be here at any time."

Dirk went into the kitchen, leaving the door open. Kate emerged from the bedroom area.

"I must admit the plumbing's impressive. They know how to live in style on the water, don't they? Where's what's his name?"

"Dirk."

"As in Bogarde."

"Yes."

"If I remember rightly, he was of Dutch descent."

"Don't you think he's gorgeous?" Rachel lowered her voice.

"Bogarde?"

"No, silly. Dirk." She indicated the kitchen. "Making coffee."

Kate shrugged. "If you like them tall, blonde and hunky I suppose he's all right."

"Oh, you." Rachel lightly punched her friend's shoulder.

"Did I gather there's a brother?"

"Yes. Expected shortly."

"No doubt he's short, wears glasses, a three piece suit, has thinning hair and a cock to match." Kate sighed. 

"Jan is nothing like that." Dirk popped his head round the door.

"Oh, God! He heard." Kate curled up in embarrassment.

"He is more handsome than me and just as tall. He will please you." Dirk returned to his chores.

Rachel and Kate looked at each other for a moment, then broke down in a fit of giggles.

Jan arrived a few minutes later. If he was surprised to see two young unknown English women in the boat he managed to hide it well. Kate was delighted to see he lived up to the description given by his brother and was more than happy for him to be foisted on her. He had the same build and looks as Dirk, but his fair hair was short and neatly cut.

"I work in the diamond industry," Jan explained over coffee. "Buying and selling. Amsterdam has been a major centre for four hundred years."

"I don't suppose you have any spare?" Kate took a bite out of a large piece of apple pie with lashings of cream, thoughtfully provided by their hosts. "Um. This is delicious. Fattening, but delicious." 

"Had you any plans for tonight?" Dirk asked.

Kate shook her head, unable to speak through a mouthful of pie.

"We're foot-loose and fancy free." Rachel scraped up the last of her cream.

Dirk frowned. "You are what?"

"My friend means...." Kate swallowed the pie...."we're not doing anything tonight."

"Then might I suggest where we could go?"

"This is your city. You know the best places. But only if we go Dutch."

Dirk was puzzled again. "You mean, you wish to dress in national costume?"

Kate laughed. "No. Dutch treat."

"I thought my English was good, but...." Dirk shook his head.

"It's very good," agreed Rachel.

"But I do not understand what is Dutch treat?"

"We all share the costs," Kate explained.

"But this cannot be," Jan protested. "You are our guests."

"It has to be, or it's all off and we'll find our own nightlife."

"We cannot...." Jan was about to continue his objection, but then spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. "As you wish."

"Good."

Dirk was still puzzled. "Why do you say Dutch treat?"

"Because we do," Rachel helpfully explained. "It's an expression we use."

"But why?"

"No idea."

"It comes from the 17th century," Kate informed everyone. "The British and Dutch were great rivals in commerce and we called things Dutch as a term of derision. Dutch courage means you need a drink before you can do something difficult or dangerous."

"I still do not understand this Dutch treat."

"It is no good," Jan cheerfully informed his brother. "You will have to remain without this knowledge. I have a shower to make myself good to go out."

He disappeared through towards the bedroom.

"A shower, too!" Rachel was most impressed.

"Believe me," Kate patted her hand, "this boat's got all mod cons. Better than my flat. I might move in here."

Dirk grinned. "You would be welcome."

"We'll see how tonight goes first. Where are you taking us?"

"For a drink, dinner, a club maybe, or disco. It will be a long night."

"Sounds it."

"We really need to freshen up and change." Rachel picked up her bag. "Why don't you pick us up at our hotel in - say, an hour."

"Which hotel?"

"Crowne Plaza." Kate and Rachel spoke together. "Room 512."

"In one hour."

*****

The men were kept waiting in the hotel lobby, but gladly admitted it was worth the wait when the two women finally appeared. Kate wore a long sleeved tunic and boot-cut trousers in a bronze glitter fabric, whilst Rachel had chosen a black jumpsuit with a patterned halter neck, lace body and wide leg. They were carrying top coats, which they put on to leave the hotel.

"Where are we going?" Kate asked.

"Along the Damrak for a drink."

"Already?"

"We start as we mean to go on."

They went to a cosy little bar, De Drie Fleschjes in Gravenstraat, where Dirk ordered four borreltje.

"A small glass of spirits," he replied to the unasked question.

"Sounds good." Rachel went to pick up her glass, but Jan grabbed her wrist.

"No, no! Not like that." She looked blankly at him. "It is the custom. You must slurp down the first drink of spirits."

"Slurp down?"

"Hands behind your back," Dirk instructed. "Both of you." They did. "Now, lean over the bar and slurp."

Kate looked at him in disbelief. "You're having us on."

"No, no, not at all." Jan shook his head. "It is the custom. We show you."

Kate and Rachel watched as the two men expertly emptied their glasses in the manner described.

"Your turn." Dirk indicated the remaining glasses.

"Oh, well," sighed Kate. "Here goes. Making fools of ourselves as usual."

Their efforts brought gales of laughter from other customers, most of whom seemed to be local. The glasses simply wouldn't stay still on the polished bar top.

"This is impossible," grumbled Rachel.

Dirk grinned; an infuriating grin. "You saw us do it."

"You must have cheated."

"Ah ha!" There was a triumphant cry from Jan, who was watching Kate as she finally succeeded in emptying her glass.

Rachel stood back in amazement. "How did you do that?"

"Determination to stop making an exhibition of myself for the benefit of the yokels."

"Don't you mean locals?"

"I know what I mean," said Kate grimly.

Rachel looked at all the expectant faces in the bar, many of them with inane grins, and decided she would have to follow Kate's lead and get it over. Leaning over she glared at the glass as if to hypnotise it to stay still, imagined it was a juicy vagina and plunged her tongue in. 

She slurped and drained the glass to great applause from the clientele.

"Well done." Dirk put his arm round her shoulder and squeezed.

"Now we have another," said Jan. "But this one you use your hands as normal."

"What a disappointment." The irony in Kate's tone was lost on her companion.

"You are permitted to slurp again if you prefer."

"No, no, no. I'll be normal. But this is my buy. Remember; Dutch treat."

"Yes...yes; as you wish."

After the second drink they moved on, crossing Dam Square and going back in the direction of the houseboat. Their destination was Café Hoppe, the most famous 'brown café' in Amsterdam. There were many such cafes, so named because of their dark wooden furnishings and nicotine-stained walls. Hoppe was decorated with old paintings and threadbare Persian rugs. It was noisy and crowded. Judging by the number of greetings, Jan and Dirk were regular patrons.

They managed to find a table and ordered a simple meal: "We'll split the cost between us," Kate declared.

The food, which took a little time arriving, was plain but delicious and all four were well satisfied as they sat back with blackcurrant-flavoured gin. There was no rush.

"We're going to the Odeon," Dirk announced.

"The cinema?" enquired Rachel.

"No, it is a disco. In Singel, near our boat. It is dead until midnight, so we have plenty of time to relax."

"I think I'll be ready for bed by then." Kate quickly added. "To sleep."

"This is Amsterdam." Dirk waved his hand around the busy cafe. "The nights are not made for sleeping."

"Haven't you got to go to work?" Rachel asked.

Dirk pulled a face. "Work? Ah, that is when I sleep."

"What do you do?"

"An administrator in the Historical Museum."

"That sounds interesting."

"It pays the bills."

They left the Odeon, an elegant 17th century gabled house converted into a disco and cafe, at three in the morning. Well sated in drink, food and music, they walked arm in arm to the boat, only a short distance away.

Wearily dropping onto the cushioned seats at either side of the main cabin, Dirk and Rachel sat side by side, stretching their legs in front of them. Opposite them, Kate was laid out with her head in Jan's lap.




Two Can Play Ch. 08



Rachel gave a small shiver as Dirk put his hand beneath her halter neck and gently squeezed her breast. She was not wearing a bra and her nipple responded to his touch, despite her tiredness.

"Are you up to this?" she murmured.

"See for yourself."

He put her hand on the fly of his trousers; beneath the material she felt his hardness.

"I'm impressed."

"So am I - with you."

He leaned over and kissed her, removing his hand from her breast to concentrate on unfastening the halter. Having achieved his objective he pulled the jumpsuit down to the waist.

"That's as far as it will go." Rachel smiled. "Unless, of course, I stand up."

"You do not need to stand up. Just take the weight off your bottom for a moment."

"Maybe I don't want to. You're presuming rather a lot."

"I think not."

"With an audience?" Rachel indicated the other two.

"They are asleep."

"No, we're not," Kate murmured.

Dirk shrugged. "They will not look."

Kate opened an eye. "Want to bet?"

"What the heck." Rachel stood up, stripped off her jumpsuit and pulled off her panties; she wasn't wearing stockings or tights. "Da, da!" She posed with her feet apart, weight on one leg, whilst the other was turned out, knee slightly bent and arms outstretched.

"You are an inspiration!" Dirk quickly divested himself of all his clothes and sat on the seat. His penis, firm, upright and highly desirable, beckoned to Rachel, who was already hot and ready.

Kneeling on the seat, with her knees on either side of his thighs, she lowered herself onto his erection, feeling the warmth of its skin as it slid smoothly up the passage of her vagina. Leaning back as far as she dare without over-balancing, Rachel sat perfectly still except for squeezing her vaginal muscles. His cock began to throb in response.

"My God!" Dirk gasped.

"Is it good?"

"Fantastic."

She squeezed, released; squeezed, released. Every time she applied pressure she could feel the power of his semen surging towards the exit. Suddenly Dirk threw his head back, groaned and went rigid as the contents of his penis poured out into the waiting vagina.

Rachel let out a cry, flung herself forward and pressed her breasts to his chest. Every muscle was taut and her skin tingling in reaction to the hard shaft that had pierced the very core of her body. They clung together, panting and afire, as Dirk's penis gradually softened, curling up on itself.

There was applause from the opposite side of the boat. Kate had turned to watch the action, though she was still laid out with her head on Jan's lap.

"That was most interesting. I might take up voyeurism as a hobby."

"Doing is better than watching."

"It depends how tired you feel. Jan and I are perfectly happy seeing others exerting themselves. Aren't we, Jan?"

"For a while it can be amusing, but then....." He pulled up Kate's tunic above her breasts, encased in a bra. Putting his hand inside, he began to tweak her nipples.

"Oh, God," Kate groaned. "Now see what you've started."

With an air of resignation she sat up, pulled the tunic over her head and unfastened the bra. She then stood up and discarded the rest of her clothes, Jan following suit. His penis was as hard as Dirk's had been and Kate took it in her mouth.

Meanwhile, Rachel and Dirk, kissing and caressing, were beginning to arouse themselves again. They were thus occupied for the next hour. When the guests finally departed they had arranged to see both men the following evening.

"When we will take you somewhere different," Dirk promised. 



Two Can Play Ch. 09



It was the morning after the night before. Rachel and Kate were very late up; they had missed breakfast and upset the chambermaid by being in their room when she wanted to clean it.

"Do you think we should go to the conference?" Rachel asked.

Kate yawned. "I suppose we could put in an appearance, collect some papers and reports to impress Desmond, then do the shops."

"Sounds good."

A little before noon they entered the conference hall. Half an hour later they emerged into a chilly, faintly damp day which encouraged them to do nothing more than move from one shop to another. They bought very little, but did a great deal of browsing. When a sex shop hoved into view they studiously avoided it, Rachel not wanting a repetition of her reaction to its contents.

Returning early to the hotel they had plenty of time to relax in the sauna and enjoy a little light reading before preparing for the evening ahead. Rachel had bought a black dress in a semi-fitted style with adjustable bra strap detailing and a red trim on the bodice. It was cut low and came only half way down her thighs. She was bra-less, her underwear consisting of nothing more than a black sheer thong, cutting into the cleft of her bottom and only just covering her pubic hair.

"You'll freeze to death in that little number," Kate commented.

"I'll be wearing my coat outside, and it'll be hot enough in the disco, or wherever we go."

"You never know. They might be planning on sex in the park."

"What are you wearing?" asked Rachel.

"Same as last night. We're here for such a short time I didn't pack much."

"Neither did I. That's why I bought this dress."

Kate pursed her lips. "Yes...well...there's not too much of it."

"Don't I look all right?" Rachel peered anxiously at herself in the mirror.

"You look bloody marvellous. That's the trouble. Beside you, I resemble an old maid."

"You're being too hard on yourself."

"I couldn't be."

The telephone rang. It was Dirk to say he and his brother were waiting downstairs. There was a last minute flurry of activity as Kate scrambled into her clothes and Rachel made a couple of alterations to her make-up, as well as liberally dowsing herself in perfume.

The evening began as before with a couple of drinks in De Drie Fleschjes, then on to a meal at an Indonesian restaurant.

"After this we go for a walk," Dirk announced.

Rachel looked down at her strappy shoes with a 4" heel. "You expect me to walk in these?"

"It is not far and will not be for long."

Not long turned out to be over an hour, much of it spent struggling down narrow, cobbled streets. The two women were being taken on a tour of the Red Light District, full of drug pushers, sex shops and, of course, female prostitutes sitting on a padded seat in a window. They were half naked, but made no attempt to sell their wares, being content to gaze out of their goldfish bowl with blank eyes, or idly browse through a magazine. The biggest impression given was that of boredom. In some windows the curtains were drawn.

"She has a customer," Jan declared.

In the middle of it all, incongruously stood the Oude Kerk.

"Old Church," Dirk explained. "It is the oldest building in Amsterdam and the original church of the fishing community. The tower is 13th century, and the chapel 15th."

"Very medieval," Jan added. "Grey flagstones...stark and severe. It is an interesting place to visit if you like churches."

Rachel shook her head. "I don't."

"Anyway, we're going home tomorrow." Kate sounded sad.

Jan took hold of her hands. "But you must come back. It is a city to welcome you every time."

"I believe you."

"But, this is no time for sorrow." Dirk sounded ebullient. "Now is the time for us to go and be entertained."

"Where?" Rachel looked around at the dark mass of the church and the surrounding buildings. "We seem to have come away from everything."

Dirk wagged a finger. "What you see is not what there is." He took her arm and began to walk more briskly than she cared to go. "We turn a corner, look across the canal and..... Daar is het."

He pointed to a brightly lit canopy which seemed to belong to a theatre. Flashing electric signs promised Live Sex.

The two women were led across a narrow bridge and then to the front of the cabaret theatre, its entrance flanked by large and revealing pictures of both men and women.

Kate pulled back. "You're not taking us in here."

"But why not?" enquired Dirk.

"Women don't go to gaze at people having sex. That's for men."

"You think so?"

They watched as a couple, man and woman, happily went inside. It was obvious she felt no inhibitions.

"She's probably not English," Kate muttered.

"English, German, French, Dutch.....what does it matter?" Dirk indicated the display. "This entertainment is for all to enjoy."

"It is fun," agreed Jan.

"Oh, come on." Rachel took hold of Kate's hand and pulled her towards the entrance. "I'm freezing out here, and my feet are hurting after all that walking. I could do with a sit down."

A further protest was on Kate's lips, but she realised it was futile; she was outnumbered. They went in.

The small foyer was equipped with a box office and nothing else except more displays of the show.

"How much is it?" Kate asked.

Dirk shook his head. "No, no, not this time. We insist; this is an Amsterdam Dutch treat. We pay for you."

Kate began to protest. "We made an agree....."

Jam put his finger onto her lips. "Sh."

She clamped her mouth closed.

After paying for their admission they were ushered down a narrow, gloomy corridor and into a shabby room with a large video screen. Either the film had been badly shot or the projection equipment was poor, but the reproduction was less than satisfactory. The image was slightly blurred and a fuzzy haze blanketed everything.

A young blonde woman was on her knees, with her bottom in the air, whilst a much older man, also on his knees, was rhythmically driving into her. At the same time, both of them were giving a highly voluble vocal performance consisting of groans, pants, cries, heavy breathing and shouts.

There were half a dozen people already sitting in what were obviously ex-cinema seats that had seen many years of service. Kate looked around in disgust.

"Is this it? Pretty grotty. And I thought live sex meant the performers were actually there, not just in a film."

"So it does," Dirk assured her. "There is no room in the club and we must wait here for a while. Probably only a few minutes until someone leaves. There is much coming and going. It will soon be our turn."

And so it was. They spent about fifteen minutes watching various couplings on the screen before being sent up a typically steep and narrow wooden staircase. At the top they entered a packed and smoky auditorium. Immediately in front of them was a postage size stage, deserted at the moment, with a single row of seats facing it and only a few feet away. Behind that was a well stocked bar. A sound and lighting consol occupied the corner of the room on stage left, the traditional prompt side. On stage right a bank of seats rose steeply up, wide enough to take six people. The total capacity was probably about eighty, mostly men, but there was a good sprinkling of women.

The only seats available for the newcomers were up at the back, though the distance between them and the stage was not all that great and the sightlines were good.

"We can move down as people leave," Dirk informed them, shouting above the hubbub of chatter. "It is good to get close."

"This is close enough," Kate responded, still dubious about the whole exercise.

"You would like a drink?" Jan asked.

Rachel fumbled in her purse. "Let me."

"No, no. Tonight you pay for nothing. That is our agreement."

Jan descended the auditorium steps to the bar, returning a few minutes later with a small tray and four glasses.

"What is it?" asked Kate.

"Champagne."

"Oo, nice." Rachel eagerly took a glass and raised it. "To our good Dutch friends, Dirk and Jan. Thanks for everything."

Kate followed suit. "Jan and Dirk."

Music began, greatly amplified through speakers scattered around, filling the small auditorium with the pounding rhythm of tom-toms beating. The houselights went down, leaving almost total darkness, until spots sprang into life, flooding the stage with light. A stocky, dark-haired man, dressed only in a loincloth, entered through the same doors used by the public. He carried a whip and was dragging an equally scantily clad woman, using a short length of rope that also went round her wrists, tying them together. She had fair hair and the kind of figure adored by men and envied by her peers. 

They climbed onto the stage by means of a step from the auditorium floor. A hook had been dropped down by a stage-hand and the victim was swiftly fastened to it by the rope. When this was done, the hook was raised, lifting her arms above her head. She dangled on the end of the rope, her feet barely touching the ground.

The man ripped off her brief loincloth; she was naked and looked extremely vulnerable. Rachel felt the familiar dampness between her legs, imagining the terror of the woman and lust of her captor. The whip cracked on the floor, sending a tremor through Rachel, then it smacked against the captive's bottom.

"Oh, God!" gasped Rachel, tightly gripping Dirk's hand.

"Do not worry," he whispered. "It is all an act. They do this every night - several times."

"I know." But, all the same, it was terribly real to at least one member of the audience.

The whip cracked once again across the surface of the stage, and then snaked around bare skin with considerably less force. The victim twisted and wriggled on the end of the rope, crying out in simulated agony. After two more strokes the whip was discarded and the man held his captive, standing behind her, but slightly to the side, enabling the audience to get an unrestricted view of the naked female.

He stroked her pubic area and she opened her legs as his fingers probed between them. At the same time he rubbed his crotch against her thigh, whilst using his unoccupied hand to squeeze her breasts. After a minute he left her dangling, took a stool from the side of the stage, went back and lifted one of her legs onto it. Her vulva was open to inspection by the audience.

The man quickly stripped off his loincloth to reveal a hardened penis, which he immediately plunged into the waiting vagina. The woman panted and moaned as he pumped furiously in and out. By this time, Rachel was more than damp.

The couple on the stage performed for five minutes, with the man occasionally resting by withdrawing his penis, kneeling down and licking the juices where he had been. Then he would re-enter her and resume his pumping. The act came to an end, but Rachel was convinced neither the man nor woman had reached a climax.

Dirk grinned at his friends. "Hot stuff, yes?"

"Bit tame at the end, I thought," Kate murmured.

There was activity amongst the seats further forward almost immediately after the performers had left and the house-lights came on. Some members of the audience were leaving, the show being continuous, and their places were quickly being taken by people sitting further back. Dirk and Jan made a dive for better seats, leaving their guests to follow. Unable to get four together, Dirk and Rachel sat on the fourth row, whilst Jan and Kate found places on the row behind.

More punters entered the auditorium and climbed up to the back, taking seats vacated by those who had moved down.

"Anybody sitting in my seat is going to feel uncomfortable," Rachel murmured.

"Why?" asked Dirk.

"I got so worked up my juices flowed out and the cushion's soaking wet."

"I am glad you enjoyed it so much." Dirk put his hand high on her thigh, fingers spread wide, with his thumb reaching into her cleft.

Rachel shuddered, aware of the pressure through her thin dress. "Do you want me to make this seat wet, too?"

Dirk smiled. "I shall not have to sit on it."

"That sounds a touch selfish."

The lights went down again and the next act began; two men and one woman going through all the expected actions. At the end of the next act - one man, one woman; she took him in her mouth and then her vagina - Dirk managed to grab four seats on the front row. Jan bought more drinks, beer with a large, frothy head for the men, and bittertje for the women.

"It's what?" asked Kate.

"Bittertje."

"Pink gin," Dirk explained.

Rachel took a sip. "Um. Nice."

The shuffling of seats had stopped, the audience was settled when a young and attractive blonde entered through the door going straight onto the stage as the lights came up. The auditorium was still lit. She wore nothing but a see-through, sheer mesh lace cardigan. With a big smile on her face she looked round the audience and began to talk in Dutch, quickly switching to English, then German and French.

"Six volunteers, please. Men only."

There was a moment's hesitation, everybody waiting for somebody else to make the first move, then several men made a dash for the stage. Dirk was amongst them and had the advantage of almost being there before he started. Too many men volunteered, so the blonde made a selection, leaving some very disappointed customers. Rachel was intrigued about Dirk's role in the performance. Presumably he had seen the show before and already knew what was expected.

The six men were lined up and then ordered to drop their trousers. Some embarrassed glances, a moment of weakening resolve, and they all did as instructed. There was laughter from the audience at the sight of polka dot underpants, spindly legs and knocked knees. What followed brought even more laughter. 

The blonde slowly went down the line and, one by one, pulled the underpants elasticated top away from the waist, thus allowing herself a clear view down to the penis. One by one she looked and shook her head, releasing the elastic with a satisfying snap. It seemed nobody was going to be suitable as she reached the last man, unimpressively built with sharp features and a blue shadow around his cheeks and chin.

When the blonde looked at his penis she did a double-take, a dismissive glance immediately followed by a wide-eyed stare.

"Yes!" she shouted, pulling down the underpants to reveal everything to the audience. It really was a whopper. "Thank you, gentlemen. You may return to your seats and enjoy the rest of the show."

Somewhat sheepishly, the five volunteers pulled up their trousers and left the stage.

"Is he for real?" Rachel whispered.

"His cock is," Dirk replied. "But the man is....what is it you say? A flower?"

"Flower?" Rachel wrinkled her nose.

"He means a plant," whispered Kate, leaning across Dirk.

"Yes; a plant. A performer, just like the girl."

"Did you know?"

"Of course. I have been many times. Though the acts are not always the same."

"Oh. I see." For some reason Rachel felt disappointed that this wasn't his first visit, though she knew it was only to be expected.

By this time the man had removed his clothes and the blonde her solitary garment. He lay flat on his back; she took his penis in her mouth, vigorously worked on it for a couple of minutes, then straddled him, inserting his hardness into her. She rode him to great effect as far as the audience was concerned, but there was a total lack of passion in the coupling. As with all the previous acts, it petered out at the end with no feeling of climax. As if she had looked at her watch, the blonde suddenly got up, put on her lace cardigan and exited.

The man stayed where he was for a few moments before getting up to face the audience. His penis was still rock hard and completely unsatisfied. He saw a woman in the single row and went to her, offering his cock. She giggled and buried her face in her partner's shoulder. The performer then spied Rachel and moved across to her, repeating his actions. She felt her face blushing crimson and shook her head. 

Kate was next. She looked at the man who was holding his penis at her face. A brief moment of thought, then she stroked it, delicately feeling along its length, before beginning to suck it. There were cheers and wild applause from the audience, many of them standing up to try and get a better view. Rachel buried her face in her hands, too embarrassed to watch her friend's public exhibition.

Suddenly the man arched his back and pulled away, cupping the penis in his hand as he ejaculated. Once his climax was over he quickly bent down, briefly kissed Kate and ran off through the door. There was more applause and cheers as Dirk and Jan led their guests out. Kate turned and took a bow before being unceremoniously pulled out of sight.

They went back to the boat, their sole topic of conversation being the live sex show and particularly Kate's participation. Drinks were poured and consumed; clothes loosened and shed. Occupying the cushioned seats on one side of the boat, Dirk entered Rachel while she lay on her back, her legs wrapped round him. Kate sat on the seat opposite, her legs spread wide, as Jan drove his hardness deep into her vagina.

All four were so roused by the combination of sex show, talk and drink that little foreplay was necessary to prepare them for the act of consummation. Afterwards they lay together on the thick rug covering the floor, the women between the men. They brought each other to a state of arousal once again, then Rachel and Kate turned in face to face. As they kissed and caressed, they were taken in the rear, both of them quickly attaining an orgasm.

Exhausted by their recent efforts, Dirk and Jan sat back against the seats and watched as their partners resumed masturbation. Rachel wriggled down, flat on her stomach, head between Kate's legs, and ran her tongue around the vagina lips. At the same time she stretched up both arms and began to caress her friend's breasts, gently rolling the nipples between thumb and forefinger.

Kate reached out on either side and found two shrivelled penises, which she promptly began to stroke and tease. It took a little time, but gradually life was restored, Dirk hardening earlier and faster than Jan. Rachel became aware of Dirk's state of readiness as he moved into position. She briefly sucked his cock before relinquishing her post at the entrance to Kate's secret chamber and then watched as he sank his length in as far as it would go.

Feeling her own need, Rachel crawled to Jan, lying on his back and busy masturbating himself. She took over the task, using her tongue and lips to bring him to full rigidity. Her breasts dangled down as she bent over the penis and a hand caressed them, but such was the closeness of the bodies, she had no idea whose hand it was.

A rapidly increasing throbbing in the male member told her it was close to ejaculation. She was completely ready herself, the entrance to her vagina being well lubricated with her freely flowing juices. Sitting astride Jan, she guided his cock into her and then worked back and forth, up and down until they were both moaning with pleasure. Rachel cried out as she felt the powerful burst deep inside her when Jan reached his climax. Slowly they came back to earth and lay next to each other, lazily caressing and kissing.

It was almost four o'clock in the morning when they all bade farewell, both women promising they would pay a return visit sometime. 

"Next week?" Jan hopefully asked.

Rachel laughed and shook her head. "Next year more like."

"Surely you can come sooner than that." Dirk was almost pleading.

"You'll have forgotten us before the day's over." Kate spoke a little sadly. "Tomorrow night you'll be fucking another woman and making her feel great."

"And what about you?" asked Jan.




Two Can Play Ch. 09



"Oh, we'll still be thinking about you," Rachel replied.

"For a couple of days, anyway." Kate grinned.

They all laughed, embraced and waved farewell as the two girls walked off in the direction of the hotel. Hurrying through the rain washed streets, neither of them spoke a word, but in the hotel room Kate startled her friend.

"I think I'm coming back to live here."

"What!" Rachel stopped with her dress half off.

"It's a terrific city and I feel so at home."

"That's the drink and sex talking." She continued undressing.

Kate shook her head. "No, I thought it was great the moment we arrived."

"So did I, but only for a few days. What will you do? Where will you live?"

"No answer to either question, but I'll find something." Kate grinned. "I might get a job in that sex club. I rather enjoyed myself there."

Rachel was shocked. "You wouldn't!"

"Why not?"

"Being paid to have sex in public. It's disgusting."

"Didn't you enjoy watching?

"Well...."

"Didn't it get you going? You wet your pants."

"I know, but...."

"I rest my case." Kate walked over to the bathroom. 

She went into the bathroom, closing the door. There was the sound of water running from the shower. Rachel slowly sank down on the edge of the bed and contemplated her bare feet against the rich colours of the carpet. There were two more men notched up on her belt. It had been a highly charged short break, an erotic interlude from the daily grind. Enjoyable; yet there was something missing from all these encounters. She had always maintained that love and sex went together like peaches and cream; the one was enhanced by the other. Her life seemed to have degenerated into lust and sex; it was not totally satisfying.



Two Can Play Ch. 10



It was a miserably wet day and Rachel was driving home after her day's work at the radio station. Her mood was attuned to the weather. The carnal delights of Amsterdam had faded into a distant memory and she felt in need of somebody in her bed. Since returning there had been nothing but trouble of one sort or another. 

The friendship with Kate seemed to have waned and they seldom saw each other. Even when they did, conversation was restrained, their previous light chatter reduced to stilted information about what they were doing. Not very much, as far as Rachel was concerned, whilst Kate still seemed determined to throw everything up and go to live in Amsterdam. 

Desmond was another irritant. He had approached Rachel when his wife was once more in Scotland, but she preferred not to go down that path again, good though it had been the first time.

Work had also proved a bind and she lacked concentration, leading to several fairly grave errors. Much to her chagrin, Desmond had hauled her over the coals for being slap-dash, and she felt he had taken particular delight in humiliating her after her refusal to have sex. She had to admit, though, that his criticism was justified and mentally kicked herself for her lack of commitment to the job.

Then her car broke down and had to be towed to a garage where the mechanic shook his head, informing her that it was a big job and the car would be out of action for at least a week. 

"That's the bad news." He grinned as he saw her dismay. "The good news is that we'll give you the loan of a car."

Rachel wrinkled her nose. "That's the good news? How much will it cost?"

"To you, nothing. The insurance takes care of it."

She immediately brightened. "That's great."

"Thought you'd appreciate it."

Now she was driving along, windscreen wipers washing back and forth with a monotonous and irritating scratching sound and a peculiar bumping at the rear. It became worse and she gradually realised what had happened.

"Oh, fuck it!" she cried, hitting the steering wheel several violent blows.

She had a flat.

After pulling over to the side of the road she sat for a few minutes in miserable contemplation of what had to be done to get her moving again. Out in the rain, jack up the car, take off the wheel and put on the spare. She had never done it before and felt this was not the best time. Worse still, she had no coat to protect her from the downpour. 

"Fuck it." This time she swore in quiet resignation.

Rachel reluctantly climbed out of the car and opened the boot.

"Oooooh!" It was a wail. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She stamped her feet in frustrated rage.

There was no jack.

She was hardly aware of the car slowly driving past and pulling up a short distance ahead. Still staring at the empty boot, her hair a bedraggled mess and mascara running down her cheeks, she suddenly heard a voice close to her. 

"Need any help?"

She looked up and saw an elderly man with a kindly face standing next to her. He was dressed in a long raincoat and wore a sou'wester, both of them giving him good protection from the weather.

"I've got a flat and no jack," explained Rachel.

"No problem. I always carry one for just such an emergency."

"So do I," snapped Rachel, aware that he probably thought of her as a dizzy female. "This isn't my car."

The man smiled, ignoring her ungracious manner. "I suggest you get into my car where you'll be a little drier, while I do battle with the wretched wheel."

Rachel hesitated momentarily, unwilling to put herself into the hands of a total stranger, yet aware of her need for assistance.

"Thank you." 

She quickly sought the sanctuary of the Samaritan's car, grateful to get out of the persistent rain. She heard the boot close behind her as the man took out his jack, but was unable to see anything clearly through the rain-streaked rear window. Settling down in her seat, she patiently began to wait until the job was done and she could be on her way home. The end of a perfect day.

Rachel's eye was caught by a magazine peeping out of the glove compartment and she pulled it out, hoping for something to occupy her mind. She soon realised it wasn't the kind of magazine to be read by women. It was a glossy almost entirely devoted to worshipping the female - undressed - form. She opened it. Leaving little - she turned a page - no, nothing to the imagination, these models were displaying themselves in full colour to anyone who cared to fork out £3.50.

Women's bodies had not usually been a source of fascination for Rachel, but her brief lesbian experience with Kate had shown her that anything was possible. As she flicked through the magazine she felt a small stirring deep within her. There were pictures of breasts, both large and small, thrusting off the page at her, and open crotch shots, some of them with the vagina lips pulled open. Although most of the models were obviously professional there were a couple of pages featuring amateurs. Some had wedding rings on display and not all of them had the flattering measurements of true models. The photography, with a couple of exceptions, was also sub-standard. 

The boot slammed down and Rachel hastily tried to push the magazine back where she'd found it, but the driver's door opened and the owner climbed in. Water was pouring off his sou'wester and he vigorously shook it outside before throwing it onto the back seat and slamming the door shut.

"You're all ready to go."

"I can't thank you enough."

"My pleasure. I enjoy helping attractive maidens in distress." He grinned. "Even the less attractive ones." He indicated the brochure. "Find it interesting?"

"I'm sorry. I was being nosey. Just looking for something to read....to pass the time."

"No problem. There's nothing secret about it."

"Not even from your wife?" Rachel could instantly have kicked herself. What did she know about him? He could be divorced or, worse still, a widower and she'd made a crass, flip remark.

He smiled. "My wife? Oh, she knows all about it. After all, it's what pays the bills."

Rachel looked puzzled,

"I'm a freelance photographer for this magazine and several similar publications." He reached into his pocket and brought out a small leather wallet from which he produced a brightly coloured business card. He offered it to her. The name John Cane was embossed in gold letters and beneath it, in smaller print, was the legend: Photographer.

"That's you?"

He smiled. It was a nice smile. He must have been handsome when he was young; in fact, he was still handsome, though aged about sixty, with grey hair and a neat grey moustache. His clear blue eyes twinkled as he studied the girl in his car.

"That's me." She offered the card. He waved his hand. "No, no. Keep it. You may want to use it."

"Do you think I'm desperate enough to take my clothes off for twenty pounds?" She had seen the figure mentioned in the magazine. Rachel sounded as indignant as she felt at the suggestion.

John shook his head. "Oh, that's just for the sexy snaps taken by husband or boyfriend. You get much more than that for a layout. I'm always on the look-out for women attractive enough to fill a page."

Rachel frowned. "You mean.....I might have a layout?"

"You might indeed. You have all the right qualifications as far as I can tell. You should keep my card, just in case you decide you're interested."

"Thank you, Mr. Cane, for your help." Her voice was like ice.

Quickly climbing out, she slammed the door behind her and ran back to her own car. It was still raining and she scrambled in, then sat for a few moments trying to recover her breath and her composure. How dare that man suggest she should become a nude model in a dirty magazine! For that's what they were. She should have slapped his face. She should have....it was then she noticed his card still in her hand. She should at least have thrown it away; but there it was.

JOHN CANE

Photographer

*****

"Good God!" Kate was aghast. "I can't believe you're seriously thinking about displaying yourself in a nudie magazine."

They had met for a lunchtime tipple with the intention of patching up their dented friendship. 

Rachel grinned. "Should be interesting." She took a sip of her gin and tonic. "I met this guy who takes the photos and he gave me his card."

Kate looked grim. "Did he fuck you as well?"

"No, he didn't. He's quite old."

"That doesn't mean a damned thing."

Rachel tried to be patient. "He didn't try and persuade me or anything, just gave me his card. Anyway, I thought about it for a couple of days then decided to find out more. I rang him, made an appointment and we met for lunch. He told me how it all works. We arrange a convenient time and I go round to his studio. He takes the photos and submits them to the editor who then decides whether or not to use them."

"Is the man genuine? This could be a scam to get you in a vulnerable position. You might be drugged and raped. Or carried off to be a slave in a brothel."

Rachel laughed. "You have a vivid imagination. After lunch he took me to his studio and I met his - female - assistant."

"That doesn't mean much," murmured Kate.

"He has the most marvellous equipment."

"I'll bet he does. And you know where he'll put it, don't you?"

"You have a filthy mind."

"And what do you think he's got? "

"Anyway, plenty of men have seen me naked in the past few months." 

"That's not the same as displaying yourself in a magazine, is it?" Kate drained her glass. 

Rachel grinned. "Fame at last."

"You'll set tongues wagging."

"I don't think we know anyone who'll read a nudie magazine."

"Somebody must. You never know who." Kate shook her head. "I've created a bloody sex monster. You were a sweet, innocent...."

"Comparatively," Rachel interjected.

"....young woman when I met you. Now I can't stop you getting mixed up in all sorts of seedy enterprises. My God, what have I done?"

Rachel smiled and consolingly patted her friend's hand. "Don't worry about me. I'm having a whale of a time."

"But for how long? Your way of life is not to be recommended. I predict dark happenings."

Rachel laughed at Kate's pessimism.

*****

Despite the implication that Rachel was only thinking about becoming a feature in the men's magazine when she talked with Kate, in actual fact the decision had been made. She made arrangements and went round to John Cane's studio at the appointed date.

"Mr Cane, how nice to see you again." They shook hands.

"There shouldn't be any formality between us. You're Rachel, I'm Johnny. You remember Debbie, my assistant." Both women acknowledged each other with a nod. "You're looking wonderful."

"Thank you.."

"Wardrobe. What are you going to wear?"

Rachel held up a small suitcase. "I've brought a selection."

"Sexy, simple, revealing and easy to take off. Those are the prime requisites."

"I'll show you."

"Right."

Rachel looked around, saw a sofa and went over to it. She opened the case and brought out several outfits which she spread across the furniture. "Those are my choices."

Johnny looked critically at the assortment of clothes. 

"Um. This silver satin top....black panties....black suspender belt and stockings. Deb?" He looked towards the young woman for affirmation. She nodded. "Yes, that'll do nicely," Johnny affirmed. "Well, you toddle off and get ready while we set up the lights and cameras. No need to rush. You'll find a changing room through that door."

Rachel took half an hour carefully grooming and dressing herself. She stared at herself in a full length mirror, critically examining every line, shadow, fold and bump. The finished result was far from perfect, but pretty good. John Cane seemed to agree when she entered the studio.

"Marvellous!" he exclaimed. "Don't you agree, Deb?" 

The assistant, altering the angle of a light, briefly looked over at Rachel and nodded. Not a sound had so far left her lips. The studio seemed to be crowded with equipment and the powerful lights made it very warm. A richly coloured red cover had been thrown over a bed which almost filled one side of the room.

"We could do with some jewellery round your neck, my dear." Johnny lightly ran his finger from one shoulder to the other, barely touching her skin; Rachel shuddered a little at his feather touch. "It's a mite too bare." He smiled. "Which may seem to be a funny comment to make when nudity is the name of the game. I've got some nice pieces here for when the occasion arises. Deb."

The assistant dutifully went across to a cabinet, took out a jewellery case and brought it over to Johnny.

"What do you think, my dear?" he asked Rachel.

She chose two pieces and put them on. The first was a short pearl necklace and the other a long gold chain, stretching down below her breasts.

"Just right. Shoes. We need shoes."

"Black high heel?" Rachel held up a pair.

"Excellent. Lie on the bed, if you please. On your side, facing this way and leaning on your elbow, I think." Rachel followed his instructions. "Good. Now, lift your right leg, keeping it bent, and hold it with your right hand just below the knee. Yes...yes. A little more pubic hair, if you don't mind." He gently adjusted her panties to uncover part of her crotch. Again his touch was light and incredibly thrilling.

Satisfied with her position, Johnny picked up his camera and looked through the viewfinder. He clicked, moved in closer and clicked again. A rapid succession of clicks followed. To Rachel it all seemed such a waste of film for one shot.

"Good. That'll do. Now, more or less the same position except...." he considered. "Put your leg over and down on the bed so your crotch is facing towards the bottom of the bed. Put your right hand on your thigh and......" He leaned across, gently slipped the strap of her top off her shoulder and carefully exposed her breast, the material falling just below her nipple. Once again his fingers barely touched her skin, but she felt a tiny pulse of excitement in her tummy.

Shooting from the foot of the bed and looking down at her, Johnny snapped away several times. He posed her in several different ways; on her back, on her front, sitting up, breasts bared, holding the suspender belt high pulling the tops of her stockings up, crotch coyly peeping at the camera and totally revealed. They finished with Rachel naked and the lips of her vagina parted allowing a good view of the entrance to her most private part.

"Excellent," announced Johnny. "The editor's going to love this. No doubt of it." He turned to his assistant. "Right, Deb. You can start packing up."

The silent one nodded and began to unplug the lights.

Rachel slipped on a dressing gown, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed now the photography had stopped.

"You were good, my dear," Johnny enthused. "Born to be a model."

Rachel smiled. "I don't think so. I enjoyed it, but once is enough. Have you been a photographer all your working life?"

Johnny shook his head. "I was an accountant in a large store for much of it."

"Really? Did you enjoy it?"

"No. Figures are boring; except your kind, of course. But, necessity made me stick it for thirty years."

"Did you retire?"

Johnny shook his head. "Shop closed. Made redundant. I received a little windfall as compensation so I decided to invest it in my own business."

"As a photographer."

"Exactly. That was ten years ago." He shook his head. "Ten years. Doesn't seem possible. Happiest years of my life, but gone all too soon."

"Why did you go from accounts to nude photography?" Rachel asked.

"The seamier side of my personality coming out, I suppose."

Rachel looked concerned. "Is it seamy?"

"Some people think so. My son, for instance. He disowns me. Thinks I'm a dirty old man. Perhaps I am."

"What does your wife think about it?"

"She accepts what I do, although I think she's more than a little disapproving and wishes I'd found another kind of business. But it's successful and that carries a lot in its favour. I'll get these developed in the next couple of days then you'll be able to see the finished result."

"I'm not too sure about that. A lot of those pictures must be very revealing."

"Of course they are; revealing your loveliness. I've photographed numerous women, amateur and professional models, and you can take it from me, you're one of the best."

"Do you really think so?"

"My dear," Cane took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes. "You turn me on and that takes some doing these days." He put her hands onto his groin and she blushed a bright pink as she felt his deflated penis beneath the material of his trousers. "I've got trouble in that department these days. My wife has completely given up on me, but just occasionally someone has the magic formula."

Rachel looked across at Debbie who was busy rolling up the cables, briefly hesitated then pulled Johnny towards the changing room.

"Come and let me help you."

He looked quizzically at her but dutifully followed. As soon as the door was closed Rachel unzipped his flies. She reached inside the gap created, found his penis and exposed it. She kneeled in front of Johnny and ran her fingers along his stem before stretching out her tongue to gently flick around his glans. He gave a soft moan, but there was no reaction from his penis. She took it into her mouth, sucking and teasing it with her tongue; it remained flaccid and lifeless.

Johnny was leaning against the dressing table and, despite the lack of response from his penis, Rachel's ministrations were not going unrewarded. His eyes were closed and his breath came in short, sharp jabs. With her tongue flicking back and forth Rachel did her best to stimulate Johnny's penis, whilst feeling her own juices trickling down her thigh.

"I remember the first time," he gasped. "I was less than twenty - in fact, nearer eighteen. The woman was a little older, perhaps twenty-five or six. I didn't really know what it was all about"

"Where was this?"

"At a holiday camp. You know, the way they used to be with hi-de-hi and bingo and games and talent competitions, little chalets, set meals and large dining halls. I was working there and the woman was a camper."

Was there a little stirring of life in the penis? Rachel thought there might be.

"Were you in love with her?" Rachel asked.

"Good Lord, no! We barely knew each other. It was lust, pure and simple." Johnny laughed. "In broad daylight, too."

"In a chalet?"

"No, outside. There was a narrow stretch of grass between the wall of a theatre where I was working and an outer wall of the camp."

"There were walls?"

"Oh, yes, and gates. And security men."

"To keep intruders out?"

"Ostensibly, yes. But there was a general rumour that it was to keep the campers in."

"So you were on the grass with this woman."

"Yes. We didn't undress or anything like that. She pulled her panties off, lay down, lifted her skirt and spread her legs. It was my first view of a woman's fanny."

Rachel's nipples had hardened and her panties were wet with her own desire as she imagined the scene being described. Johnny's penis had shed all its softness. Her tongue licked along its length.

"I didn't take off my trousers. Just unfastened them and pulled them down to my knees. My cock was really stiff and hard."

The same symptoms were now apparent on the 60 year old man. 

"I didn't have much time to think about anything. My cock poked about looking for her hole, but I just couldn't seem to get the two things lined up. Rather scornfully, I thought, the object of my lust took hold of my wandering member and located it in the right place. I sank into a wet, soft, silky heaven. I thrust and pushed and pumped for all of twenty seconds, I should imagine. I spewed forth sperm into the depths of that pulsating pussy and collapsed in a mortified heap."




Two Can Play Ch. 10



Unable to contain herself, Rachel quickly stood up, turned her back, slipped off the dressing gown and bent over, pulling the cheeks of her bottom apart. Presented with her dripping cunt, Johnny was in no doubt what to do and pushed his throbbing penis into her as far as it would go. He worked it up and down, round and round her vagina, grinding his thighs against her bottom. She looked up between her legs and saw his finger stimulating her clitoris.

It was too much. She went over the edge with a cry that was sure to be heard by all the passers-by outside and Debbie in the studio. At the same moment, Johnny emptied his semen into her, then fell back against a dressing-table, gasping for air.

Rachel pulled away from him, freeing his penis and turned to take hold of him.

"Johnny, are you all right?"

"Yes....yes....nothing to worry about. Feeling great. I haven't come like that for years." His breathing was becoming a little easier.

Rachel smiled. "That's because you were talking about your first time."

He shook his head. "Not completely. You had a good deal to do with it."

Rachel lightly kissed him on the cheek. "You know what I wish, Johnny?"

"What?"

"I wish I could have been the girl who took away your virginity."



Two Can Play Ch. 11



Rumours were rife. A take-over of Trends Radio parent company was imminent. The international consortium involved were known to be ruthless cost-cutters. Nobody and nothing would be safe. Jobs were on the line and employees eyed their colleagues with suspicion. Plotting and double-dealing became the norm with everybody looking out for number one.

After a month of uncertainty rumour became fact and redundancy notices began to be issued. Rachel knew she was doomed. Desmond had grown colder towards her with each passing day, especially since giving her a strong hint that if she played ball and let him fuck her, he would be prepared to lobby for her retainment. She had flatly refused. As a result, she was almost the first to be dismissed.

Her final pay was boosted by a redundancy payment, but it amounted to very little when the cost of living was taken into account. She needed to find another job and quickly. Her salary had never been sufficiently high to allow her to save much, especially as she enjoyed spending. 

Looking through the job adverts she found very little of any use to her. She applied for a couple of jobs offering a reasonable remuneration, but to no avail. There were jobs to be found in pubs and restaurants, but the financial reward was inadequate, apart from her total dislike of any such work. With nothing better on offer she became a waitress in a pizza bar and hated every minute of it. The crunch came on a Friday when a pay packet was put into her hand and she saw just how little she received. Rachel realised that a shortfall of income over outgoings could not be permanently maintained. A solution came when she read an article in a magazine.

The author was a twenty-six year old single mother who was unable to work during the daytime because of child minding problems. The evenings provided no problem, so she began to look for a job to suit her particular needs. She tried bar work, but liked neither the environment nor the pay, and then office cleaning, which was even less to her taste. Eventually she joined an escort agency and found it to be an agreeable way to make a good deal of money.

The article set Rachel thinking and she decided to investigate. Looking in the Yellow Pages she came across Brill Escorts. She picked up the phone.....and put it down again, wondering if this was really such a good idea. Five minutes of arguing with herself that it was and she dialled the number. She was put through to a Mr Johnson who made an appointment to see her and gave her directions to their office. The first step had been taken.

When she arrived at the appointed hour, Rachel thought she must be in the wrong place and checked the address. It was right. She drove her car into a dingy yard through an entrance no longer guarded by a gate. It lay on its side amongst a pile of similar junk. There were already several cars parked there, some of them brand new models with the most recent registration.

The building was old and dilapidated, once being part of a warehouse complex which had been closed for many years. The whole area was desolate and unprepossessing. Rachel mounted an iron staircase clinging to the outside of the building and was faced by a plain white door, badly in need of paint. A simple notice indicated that this was the headquarters of Brill Escorts and gave a telephone number. The door was locked, but there was voice communication by means of a buzzer.

Rachel pressed.

"Hello." It was a girl's voice.

"Erm....Rachel Cooper to see Mr. Johnson."

"Just a sec."

A short wait then a low buzz followed by a click. Rachel tried the door and, sure enough, it opened to admit her into a narrow corridor leading to another door; this one was not locked. She entered a large office full of tables, chairs and filing cabinets. Each table held a telephone, a computer terminal and several copies of the brochure. Many of the tables were occupied, mostly by young women, but there were also a couple of men, both of them busy on the phone. Without ceasing their chatter they both waved a greeting to the new arrival.

"Hi." A pretty girl dressed in tight fitting white jeans with a black lace trim top revealing her bare midriff gave a friendly greeting. "I'm Clarissa. Clarrie for short."

"Hello."

"Freddie's expecting you."

"Freddie?"

"Mr. Johnson. The boss."

"Oh, of course."

Rachel was shown into a small inner sanctum with little furniture and a lot of disarray. One thing was for sure; Brill Escorts didn't go out of their way to make a good impression on a visitor.

A stocky young man greeted her with a wide smile and warm hand shake. He was not what Rachel would describe as a dish, a rather long, thin nose and a mass of frizzled hair being his most noticeable features, but he had an attractive personality, which more than compensated for his average looks.

"Ms Cooper. How nice to meet you." 

They shook hands and Freddie Johnson indicated a chair. She sat, crossing her legs. Her short skirt rode up her thighs, revealing the top of her stockings. He looked admiringly at the exposed flesh.

"Very nice." Johnson flicked a chair round, so it faced away from Rachel and straddled it, putting his arms along the back. "This reminds me of the scene in 'Basic Instinct'. Are you familiar with the film?"

"Yes."

"Sharon Stone is taken to the police station for questioning and she sits facing a group of detectives. She crosses her legs....." he indicated Rachel. "...just like that, and they all go pop-eyed. During the course of the interview she changes her position, crossing them the other way. As she does so you see up her crotch. She's not wearing knickers and you can see her slit; just briefly. The trick is to stop the DVD at just the right moment and then you get a really good view. All is revealed."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm wearing panties."

"Um." Johnson slowly nodded his head. He suddenly assumed a more business-like manner. "Let me explain how all this works. I run a small, but up and coming escort agency. This may not look much, but we don't need fancy offices because our business is done on the telephone and computer. Clients are not invited to pay us a visit, so we keep it plain and simple."

He popped a small sweet into his mouth. "I've given up smoking, but it's devilishly hard."

"I can imagine."

"You've never smoked?"

"No."

"Very wise." Johnson rolled the sweet around on his tongue for a few moments. "We're nothing more than an information service. We publish a catalogue of the escorts, both male and female, on our books." He picked one up and flicked through the pages. "A client asks for one of these, chooses someone he - or she - fancies, and gives us a ring or sends an e-mail. We then inform the escort who contacts the client and makes arrangements to meet. The firm gets a fee for the introduction using a credit or debit card. We don't get involved in those arrangements."

"This may sound naive, Mr Johnson....."

"Call me Freddie."

Rachel smiled. "....Freddie, but what exactly is expected from an escort?"

He spread his hands. "Just that, as far as we're concerned. If a girl, at the end of the night, charges a client extra money for extra services, that's up to her. We're not profiting from those services or from that money."

"What do I get for being an escort?"

"Fifty pounds an hour. There are all sorts of clients, with different expectations. The ages of our escorts ranges from eighteen to forty-five and they can earn between two and three hundred pounds a night. Sound good to you?"

"Sounds interesting."

"Are you ready to join our happy little band or do you want more time to think about it?"

Rachel shook her head. "I don't need more time."

"You understand that as far as I'm concerned you're an escort, pure and simple."

"Yes."

"You're at liberty to refuse a booking and whatever happens between you and the client is completely your business. Sex is not on the menu unless you decide to put it there and Brill Escorts has no financial participation."

"You've already made that quite clear."

Johnson smiled. "I'm reiterating it so there's no misunderstanding. Were you asked to bring photographs?"

"Yes." Rachel reached into her bag and brought out half a dozen pictures, including a couple from her magazine shoot.

Johnson's eyes opened wide as he saw them. "Wow! These are quite something."

"They were taken for a magazine."

"Very nice. Unfortunately, they're too explicit for our operation. Also, they'll be subject to copyright."

"Yes, of course. I hadn't thought of that."

"These are better. Privately taken, I assume."

"Yes. By my husband."

"Um. Not bad. But I don't think they're quite suitable." He rose, went over to a filing cabinet and pulled open a drawer. He handed her a sheet of paper. "On the top you'll see the address of a photographer. She does all that kind of work for us. Knows exactly what we want, so you don't need to do a thing except sit there and look pretty; which won't be hard."

Rachel smiled at the compliment. "Thank you, Mr Johnson."

He wagged a finger. "Aa, aa, aa! Freddie, remember. There's no formality here."

"Right."

"Fill in the form with basic background and personal details. Come back with the photo and we'll have you on-line in no time."

There was nothing seedy about the photographer's studio, entered through a shop where an assistant took bookings, ushered in the clients and issued the finished result. There was an impressive array of cameras, lights, backgrounds and props, capable of coping with most requests.

"A straight forward head and shoulders," said the female photographer. She was thin-faced, quite small and in her forties. She revealed little in the way of personality and lacked warmth, giving nothing but business-like efficiency. "Take off your blouse and bra." 

Rachel looked surprised. "Take them off?"

"I want bare shoulders. Put on this black frilly top."

The photographer handed it to Rachel, who felt strangely embarrassed at revealing her breasts. She turned her back to make the change. She needn't have bothered as no attention was being paid to her by the other woman, who was busy setting up her cameras and moving a white wooden chair in front of a screen.

"Sit, but turn to look at me over the back of the chair." Rachel did as instructed. "Pull the top down a little more. I want to see all of your shoulders, but not too much of your tits. That's better. Lean on the back of the chair and tilt your head slightly." The camera clicked rapidly three or four times. "You're looking too solemn. Lighten your expression. I don't want a cheesy smile, but relax your face muscles, especially round the mouth. It's too tense." Click, click, click. "Angle your head a little more. Not too much. That's better." Click. "A half smile." Click, click. 

The photographer stood for a moment, camera idly swinging in her hand.

"Your neck's too bare." She went to a cabinet and opened a drawer. After rummaging around she brought out a necklace. "Tat, really, but it'll never show on the photo and that's all that counts." 

"Thanks." Rachel put the necklace on. It was glittery and reached down towards the cleft between her breasts.

"Good. Better. More pleasing to the eye." Click, click. "Put your elbows on the chair back and cup your chin in your hands. That's it." Click, click, click. "Bigger smile. No, no, too much. Soften it a little. Less obvious. It's an invitation to a man to fuck you. Just a hint of shyness. Men adore shyness." Click. "You're getting there. A slight angle of head." Click, click. "Hands away from face and out of sight." Click, click." "Great." Click, click, click, click. "Last one." Click. "That's it. Get dressed."

"When will the photos be ready?" Rachel removed the necklace.

"Not long. Take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. There's some magazines on that table."

"Right."

She was out in less than an hour with a portfolio of photos from which Freddie Johnson could choose. He was delighted with the result when she returned to the office of Brill Escorts and quickly flicked through them.

"These two for the brochure and this for the Internet."

In all three she was wearing the necklace and in one, to be used in the brochure, she gave her shy smile of invitation with her hands were cupped round her chin.

"I'll be turning bookings down because you can't cope."

"Do you really think so?"

"No doubt of it. You're going to be a very popular young woman and earn lots of money."

*****

"You've what?" Kate shrieked, who had changed her mind about settling in Amsterdam. Since Rachel's move to London the two friends had not seen much of each other, but more frequently talked on the phone.

"Joined an escort agency." Rachel took a sip of coffee she had made before settling down for a chat.

"My God! I know I advised you to play the field and not get involved, but becoming a prostitute is going too far."

Rachel laughed. "I haven't become a prostitute. Not really."

"Yes, really. What else is it all about?"

"I found the agency in Yellow Pages, for God's sake. How much more respectable can you get than an entry in Yellow Pages?"

"You're selling yourself."

"But I don't have to; the choice would be mine. Let's face it, I fuck lots of guys I know nothing about just once and then never see them again. So, if I'm an escort I do the same thing but get paid for it. What's the difference?"

"There's a difference, believe me. Screwing men for money is a mug's game, whether you're on the street, in a flat or a so-called escort."

"You did it once. On the street, too."

"That was only a game. Playing the dare-devil. I didn't plan on taking it up as a profession."

"Neither did I, but needs must.."

"Surely you can get a decent job."

"You haven't been in the market place recently."

"You're a fool." Kate sounded at her most severe and disapproving. "Playing the field is one thing, but doing it for financial gain leads to physical ruin, prison or worse."

Rachel laughed off her friend's warning and changed the subject, but at the end of the call she was left feeling there had been another breech in their relationship.

*****

Freddie Johnson was right. Rachel proved to be a very popular escort and much in demand. There was, in fact, too much work and she quickly found the art of being selective. Her first five clients were a mixed bunch; one being a total bore, two lacking any colour or personality, the fourth too repulsive and the fifth pleasingly companionable. This last was the only one of the five to be offered sex. However, he declined the invitation, much to Rachel's chagrin.

"Bit too pricey, I'm afraid," he murmured.

That put her in her place and no mistake.

The sixth one proved to be a dream. Ray Mosby was an actor, mostly in films.

"Have I seen him?" Rachel asked.

"Quite likely," said Freddie, "if you frequent the movie houses. I haven't been for years."

"I go occasionally. If there's something I really fancy."

"I understand Mosby's up and coming. The next hot property, as they say. Apparently his new film is his best role to date. He wants you to meet him in the foyer of the Savoy at seven thirty. Evening dress."

"Where are we going?"

Johnson shrugged. "No idea."

"How will I recognise him?"

"God knows. We didn't talk about that. He probably thinks you're bound to recognise him. After all, he's a movie star."

"Supporting player," Rachel corrected.

They laughed.

*****

Evening dress.

Um. She didn't have much in the way of evening dresses. Where was she going? Really posh? Middling? Dazzling or subdued? Plain or fancy? Sexy or demure?

Men! It was all so simple for them; there were few variations on an evening suit. They had no concept of the difficulties confronting a woman. She wanted to get it right.

Flinging open the wardrobe door, Julia rapidly pulled out four evening outfits, laying them out on her bed. The first, a black tuxedo trouser suit with a satin trim on the collar, pockets and buttons, was viewed critically, frowned at and dismissed. Julia replaced it in the wardrobe and it was quickly followed by the lace dress she had chosen for dinner with Sir Hartley, his wife and Bernardo Martine. For some reason she didn't want to wear it for another evening engagement, even though it was a different man.

Next was a cobalt button back camisole with matching loose fitting trousers. There was also a long sleeved overshirt in the same swirl design on burn-out fabric. Julia slipped out of her working clothes and tried on the outfit. Her reflection in the mirror told her she looked good but not stunning. A glance at the remaining item, a sequin dress with short sleeves, scalloped hem and flowing skirt, convinced her that nothing seemed right.

Right for what, that was the question. If only Mr. Ray Mosby had given a hint. Dinner at the Savoy? An extremely swanky place. There was a theatre adjacent to it. Could they, perhaps, be going there? Unlikely, even though he was an actor. People rarely dressed up for the theatre nowadays. A dance? Cabaret?

Oh, God! What should she wear?

*****

Rachel arrived on time at the Savoy. In fact, she was five minutes early. The reception area was busy; people were arriving and departing; others stood about talking in small groups whilst yet more sat on sofas and armchairs reading or studying the activity around them. She stood by the doors for a few moments looking for somebody who might be Ray Mosby, but there was no-one likely.

Feeling thoroughly conspicuous and ill-at-ease, Rachel headed for an upright chair and perched on the edge, nervously twiddling her fingers. A rather gross and most unattractive man walked slowly in her direction and her heart missed a beat. Surely this couldn't be happening again? Not another Hal, only a good deal less attractive. The man gave her a lop-sided, leering smile; at least, she thought it was meant to be a smile.

"All alone, little lady?" 

The man spoke with a north of England accent; God, he could almost live down the road from her. Or rather, from where she lived with Paul.

"I'm waiting for someone." Rachel felt that all eyes were upon her, though, truth to tell, nobody was paying the slightest attention.

"Just anyone or does he have a name?"

"Yes, he has," she responded.

"That'll be me, then. Jim Fryer." 

"No, I don't think so."

"What d'you mean, you don't think so?"

"It's quite simple, Mr. Fryer; I'm not waiting for you or anyone of that name."

"You must be." He was sounding a little aggressive.

Rachel shook her head. "No I mustn't."

"I booked you. From Angel Escorts. And I won't stand any nonsense."

"You have the wrong girl, Mr. Fryer. I'm not from Angel Escorts. In fact, I'm not an escort. I'm waiting for my husband."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Well, I bloody never."

He strolled away without any attempt at an apology. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief. If Hal Arlington had been like that she would have shot him down double-quick. She looked at her watch. Twenty five to eight.

She stayed where she was as the minutes ticked away; five, seven, nine......

She saw Jim Fryer approach a newly arrived peroxide blonde with huge breasts that seemed in imminent danger of bursting out of her dress. This time there were smiles; she looped her arm through his and they went off together.

It was a quarter to eight when Rachel spotted someone who was her idea of an actor standing a little distance off. He was undoubtedly handsome. His hair was quite long, but well-groomed, and he was dressed in a smart velvet jacket with black trousers. He kept looking at his watch and studying all the women coming in, particularly those in the younger age group. The foyer was crowded - possibly playgoers assembling to go into the adjacent theatre - and she tried, several times, to attract his attention, but to no avail. She decided to take the initiative and pushed her way through the throng.




Two Can Play Ch. 11



"Hello."

He turned and looked at her. "Oh....er....hello." He sounded nervous and more than a little agitated.

"Ray?"

"What! Oh!" He stared at her. "Good God, it's you!"

Rachel smiled. "I believe it is."

"Er...Rachel. Is that right?"

"Got it in one."

"My God, I must sound so rude." He took both her hands and studied her face as if memorising every contour; and every wrinkle! "You're looking absolutely marvellous. Stunning."

Rachel blushed. "Thank you."

He gazed at her. "That outfit's terrific. On you, at least."

It was the cobalt two-piece camisole and trousers with over-shirt.

"I didn't really know what to wear. Evening dress, the message said. That could mean almost anything."

"That's perfect." He was still lost in admiration.

There was an awkward pause. Rachel filled it. "May I ask where we're going?"

"Didn't anyone tell you?"

"Rachel shook her head. "No."

"Damn, I'm sorry. We're going to the premiere of my new film. 'No Way Back'. That's the title. Thriller."

Rachel almost jumped up in her excitement. "Really?"

"Um. I'm pretty nervous about it. This is a lead part. My first in a major production. I've done a few supporting roles in low budget British films and done some tele. as well as theatre, but this is my big chance."

"Oo, I hope it works out for you."

"Thanks. Tonight's a royal occasion; Prince Andrew's coming. The invite was for two and I didn't have anyone to take."

"I'd have imagined girls would be fighting over you."

Ray smiled; warm, friendly and most appealing. "They obviously don't have any taste."

"I can see that."

It was Ray's turn to be embarrassed. "Yes...well...shall we say I'm between girl friends at the moment. I wanted someone attractive to accompany me, so I thought of hiring an escort." His eyes, a nice, soft blue, gazed intently into hers bringing a small stirring of desire between her thighs. "A good choice," he added.

Rachel blushed. Her breasts, waist and loins felt uncomfortably warm; was it the heat of the bar or Ray's words and gaze causing the meltdown? She really didn't know.

He looked at his watch. "Time to go."

"Right." Rachel quickly finished her drink.

The cool night air sent a shiver through her as soon as they stepped outside.

"It's at the Odeon in Leicester Square. Not far. I thought we'd walk across, if that's all right with you."

"Whatever you say." 

All the same, Rachel would have preferred a taxi. She wasn't warmly enough dressed to be strolling around London at night, and her high-heeled shoes were definitely more suited to riding than walking. The actor also went at an incredibly fast pace, his long legs taking one stride where she needed two and a half. 

They crossed the Strand, down to William IV Street, then over Charing Cross Road and into Leicester Square alongside the Odeon. There were crush barriers, police and a decent sized crowd. Ray pushed his way through, dragging Rachel behind and ignoring her little cries of dismay as she felt herself coming apart at the seams. She was convinced that her hair was dishevelled, her make-up ruined and her clothes disarranged. 

Ray presented his invitation to an official and he was allowed through the barrier and into the large foyer of the cinema. It was crowded with people, some of whom Rachel recognised from films she had seen. 

"Sorry about the dash." Ray looked suitably apologetic. "It wasn't far to go, but maybe we should have got a taxi."

"Maybe. I feel a wreck."

"You look beautiful."

She hardly had time to appreciate the compliment before they were in the middle of the throng and people were talking to Ray. He introduced her as his friend, Rachel, and everyone seemed to accept her without question. After a few minutes there was a call for order and for guests to take their seats. Prince Andrew would shortly be arriving.

"I'm in a line-up with other members of the company," Ray explained. "Here's your ticket. Go in and find your seat. I'll join you as soon as the formalities are through."

"Right."

The organisation was efficient and Rachel was smoothly shown into her seat in a row notable for its gaps. Obviously this section was to be the preserve of the film company. Twenty minutes later the gaps were filled in and Ray slipped into his place next to her.

"Everything all right?" he enquired.

Rachel nodded. "Um."

Everybody stood as the National Anthem played then the lights dimmed. As the curtains parted and the credits started, Ray reached for her hand and loosely held it in his own. She couldn't believe she was really here, sitting amongst film stars and in the presence of royalty. Never a deep thinker when it came to politics, Rachel neither favoured nor abhorred the royal family, indifference being pre-eminent. Somehow, though, Prince Andrew's attendance greatly added to the sense of occasion.

The film was pretty good and well received by the invited audience. Rachel thought her companion was wonderful and had no hesitation in telling him.

"Better than I expected," he ruefully admitted. "It's difficult judging your performance when it's chopped into little pieces. When it's edited together you see whether you hit the mark or not."

"I think you did."

Ray grinned. "You know something?"

"What?"

"I'm starving. I've just realised I haven't had a thing to eat all day. Too nervous, I suppose. Now I'm ravenous."

"Are you staying in a hotel?"

"No. I live here."

"Here?" Rachel looked puzzled.

"Well, almost here. I've a flat in Soho, just across Shaftesbury Avenue."

"I thought there was nothing but restaurants, sex shops, strip joints and prost...." She stopped in mid-word.

"Prostitutes." Ray cheerfully finished what she had started. "I live above one, as a matter of fact."

"Why didn't you ask her to the premiere?"

He laughed. "Not quite the right image." He coarsened his voice and put on a broad East End accent. "Know what I mean, darlin'?"

Rachel giggled. "You do that to a T."

"Because I'm an actor." He held both her hands and looked at her. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

"We have a choice. A restaurant, all pretty crowded at this time, or my humble abode where I can offer a scrumptious menu of beans on toast or toast with a dash of beans on top."

"Either would be wonderful."

They laughed together and strolled off; his arm was round her waist holding her close to him. She felt on cloud nine. There was a small niggling doubt about the advisability of an escort going to the private dwelling of a client, but she pushed the thought aside.

The flat was entered by a dirty, battered door from the street, up a narrow, dimly-lit staircase, passed another flat..

"Lulu, the prostitute."

...and up more stairs which stopped outside a smartly painted door. Inside the flat was warm, inexpensively but tastefully furnished and redolent of its occupant. There were posters of films and plays on the walls, a TV, a stereo midi hi-fi system, racks of CDs and shelves full of books.

"It's a listed building," Ray explained. "18th century. Used to be the residence of the well off until they moved further out, then Soho developed its more seedy image. Now people are moving back into this renovated property, mostly artistic types."

"Like you."

"Exactly." He went into a small kitchen off the living room, opened a cupboard and took down a tin of beans.

"Can I help?" Rachel asked.

He shook his head. "You're the guest. Make yourself comfortable and wait in patience for the haute cuisine."

Rachel kicked off her shoes, curled up on a settee and picked up a film magazine that was lying open. The first thing that greeted her eye was an item of news about 'No Way Back'. Ray came through and set a table with cutlery, mats and glasses. A bottle of wine magically appeared.

"Is madam comfortable?"

"Very."

"If madam will permit me, I must tell her she's looking devastatingly lovely."

Rachel felt her face reddening. "Permission granted," she said softly.

A few minutes later Ray returned with the meal which was quickly and hungrily consumed.

"All that time and effort cooking and it's gone in a trice," Ray sighed.

"It was very tasty. I must come again." It was a light, flippant remark.

"I wish you would." The response was anything but flippant. Ray put his hand on top of hers as he studied her face. "You brighten this whole room."

He stood up, raised Rachel to her feet, took her in his arms and kissed her with all the passion he had used in the film. Suddenly he pulled away from her and held up his hands.

"What's wrong?" Rachel was startled by the abrupt change.

"I can't do this. I shouldn't have invited you back."

"Why?"

"You're getting me roused and you're an escort. Not a..."

"Prostitute," Rachel softly said.

"And a married woman." 

He held up her left hand. She still wore her wedding ring. She had no idea why, but leaving it off seemed too final. 

Ray dropped her hand and turned away. "I'll get a taxi for you."

He moved towards the phone, but Rachel stayed where she was and held out her hand. "Take me to bed, Ray. I want you."

He stopped, turned and looked at her. "Can I afford you?"

Rachel felt hurt at the question, but realised that it was valid. After all, she was paid to be an escort and obviously sex was also a matter of economics. For a few moments she had forgotten their roles of business-woman and client.

"I don't want money. Just you."

Ray looked at her for a moment then crossed over and took hold of her hand. They went into the bedroom in silence and began to undress without any sense of passion or hunger. Pulling back the covers they slid beneath the sheets and lay side by side, arms round each other. Rachel's breasts pressed against the soft cushion of hairs on Ray's chest, whilst she could feel his penis lying dormant against her pubic bush.

He kissed her forehead, eyelids, cheeks and then her ear, his tongue lazily tracing the line of her lobe. It tickled and thrilled her at the same time. He probed into her ear and she responded by clamping her thighs tightly together in an attempt to stem the growing desire between her legs. He gently kissed down her neck, up her chin and onto her lips, which parted to receive his tongue.

Ray's penis, docile so far, was beginning to stir into life, gradually growing into the fierce-some weapon that would invade her delicate vagina. The hood over her clitoris had opened to reveal a hardened, throbbing bud and she parted her legs slightly to give it more freedom. Rachel rolled onto her back as Ray cupped her breast in his hand, lightly squeezing it to emphasise the rigid nipple. His tongue worked round it before his lips took hold of its hardness and he sucked on the reddened teat exactly as a baby sucked to get milk. Whilst working his mouth on one breast, he used his hand on the other, kneading and pulling or circling his palm over the areola.

Rachel was breathing more heavily and she spread her legs wider in anticipation, though Ray's penis still lay semi-comatose along her thigh. Her fingers reached down into the cleft between her legs and she felt for the little bud of her inflamed clitoris. The outer labia were thick with desire and wide open, leaving the entrance to her vagina unprotected. Ray was still caressing and sucking her breasts as she plunged two fingers into the warm chamber that longed for something thicker.

As she worked her fingers in and around her vagina she could hear the squelch of her juices and feel them running out. She was incredibly wet. She became aware of Ray's hand slowly rubbing down her torso and onto the outer thigh before moving over to cover her own hand as it busied itself. Another finger stroked her labia, but this one didn't belong to Rachel. Her whole body tensed in reaction to Ray's touch.

She reached for the object of her desire and was surprised to find it harder than she'd realised, power flowing into it almost undetected. Suddenly it was rampant and hard, the instrument of her satisfaction. She wrapped her fingers around the penis and rejoiced in its pulsating strength, relishing the thought of it thrusting inside her, a life force setting every fibre of her being on fire.

"Now!" she urged.

He, too, was ready to consummate their act of passion and he swung his leg over to place himself astride her. Rachel opened her legs even wider, bending her knees and fully exposing her vagina. She guided his penis to the entrance and let out a long sigh as it smoothly glided into the tunnel of love. The outer labia were stimulated by the slight roughness of the penis skin and emitted little sparks of pure delight.

Rachel writhed in ecstasy as her lover pushed, probed and pumped in her vagina whilst his hands squeezed her breasts and his thumbs rubbed her nipples. She reached her first orgasm when Ray was still climbing to his climax and she soared onto an even higher plane as he exploded inside her. The semen poured out, but he kept pumping, his speed becoming even more frantic with the knowledge that he was finished. Rachel crashed through a third orgasm before he sagged down, his lips seeking the comfort of her breasts and nipples.

They spent the night together and made love once more after a long session of foreplay. It was a slow burn for both of them, but eventually they ignited again, climaxing at the same time. When she left the Soho flat early in the morning, Rachel was equally full of contentment and embarrassment at the give-away of her evening dress. She was sure the taxi driver spent the entire journey smirking at her as he looked in his mirror.



Two Can Play Ch. 12



Paul Cooper gloomily gazed through the train window at the passing countryside. There was nothing new to see; everything was all too familiar as he made an unexpected journey. A crisis meeting had been called for the writers and producers of 'Cottingly'. A new and controversial story line had upset too many viewers. A much loved character, friendly, dependable and extremely likeable, had suddenly, and without warning, been turned into a paedophile. He was a founding member of the series and, over the years, had won a loyal following. The actor concerned was furious at the switch and threatened to quit if his character wasn't quickly cleared of all suspicion.

The train was passing through the suburbs of London, street after endless street. Those on the outer rim were well laid out and attractive, with room between them, but closer towards the centre drab, dismal blocks piled one on top of the other, with no sign of greenery and no break in the lines of blackened stone.

Disembarking from the train at King's Cross, Paul swiftly made his way to the cab rank and climbed into a waiting taxi ahead of the queue that would inevitably form with the new arrivals. The pavements were crowded with hurrying people of all ages, shapes, sizes and nationalities. He used to enjoy the hustle and bustle, but that was when Rachel was with him and they could both relish the change of pace from life at home.

He missed her. Why had it all gone so dramatically wrong? Surely his one stupid fling with Carol couldn't cause such a startling change in his relationship with Rachel. He could have understood it if she had simply left him, but she stayed to taunt him with her promiscuity. That is, until he had issued his ultimatum. Paul wondered where she was and if she was happy. 

The taxi moved off. God, how he missed her.

*****

It was a long day and Paul was tired. The meeting had been acrimonious; ratings had fallen - these days ratings were all that mattered - and the new, dramatic storyline was almost universally despised. A good deal of shouting had achieved absolutely nothing. Luckily, he wasn't in the firing line, so he could sit back and indulge himself in feeling sorry for those who were. Once or twice his mind had wandered to the evening and what he might do with it, which was unusual. His concentration was always one hundred per cent on business, but not today. 

There was a play in town he fancied seeing; a new comedy with a good cast and excellent reviews. Reading about it in his Sunday paper had whetted his appetite. He could go by himself; many people did. After all, you sit in the theatre and get taken into a different world. You can't talk; it's an anti-social event. On the other hand, it's nice to be with someone; to be able to discuss the play with them; to have a meal; to have.....

He thrust the thought aside and went into a shop to buy a newspaper, but his eyes were almost immediately drawn to the top shelf. It was devoted to a line of raunchy magazines designed to appeal to men. One in particular caught his attention. The front cover featured a nearly nude model, her bottom thrust towards the camera. She was looking over her shoulder with twinkling, saucy eyes and a warm, inviting smile. It was Rachel.

Paul stood rooted to the spot, his mouth open in shock. He looked again to make certain his eyes weren't deceiving him. It was her all right; no doubt of it. His wife was featured in a nudie magazine and here he was, standing in a shop gazing at this sexy woman displaying herself for the whole world......

He was still lost in admiration or horror - he was uncertain which - when he became aware of voices next to him.

"Cor, look at this one."

A hand reached up and plucked the magazine off the shelf. Paul turned towards the owner. He was young....seventeen....eighteen....with long, straggly hair, slovenly clothes and stubby fingers with bitten nails. Next to him was a similar youth. He softly whistled.

"Very fuckable."

"I wouldn't mind a piece of that."

The two youths hastily turned the pages of the magazine until they found what they wanted; two pages featuring the same model, but this time she was naked and the camera lovingly dwelled on every part of her. The last picture was a close-up of her vagina. She was holding the labia open and her glistening juices were leaking out.

"God," moaned the first youth. "I can almost feel me prick going in."

"You should be so lucky."

"She's ready for it. You can see."

"Begging if you ask me."

They turned a page.

"Bet the cameraman had it in her soon as they was done filming."

"Her husband's a lucky bastard," sighed youth number two.

"You reckon she's married?"

"Stands to reason, dunnit? This section's called 'Choice Wives'."

The first youth shook his head. "Nah, you can't go by that. Doesn't mean a bloody thing."

"Maybe, but some lucky sod's getting his cock into her. Wish it was me."

"Or me."

"Both of us."

"Yeh." The first youth grinned. "That'd give her something to think about. Here, stick it up your jumper."

The second youth obeyed the instruction, but then stopped as he became aware of Paul staring at him.

"What you bleedin' looking at?"

"Erm....nothing, really."

"You dirty bloody fucker looking at nudie mags. Should be ashamed of yourself."

The magazine and Rachel disappeared up his jumper. 

"You says anything," the first youth's voice was low, but menacing, "and you'll find your dick cut off. That's a fucking promise. You savvy?"

Paul silently nodded. He watched as the youths left the shop then, without thinking, pulled down a copy of the magazine. He took it to the counter doing his best to hide his purchase from other customers. Was it his imagination or did the female shop assistant give him a withering look for buying a girlie magazine?

He was half way down the street, his embarrassing purchase safely hidden within the confines of a bag, when Paul realised that he had come away without the newspaper. Too bad. He was most definitely not going back.

After checking into his usual hotel Paul had a shower then poured himself a drink from the mini-bar. He picked up the magazine. Idly turning the pages he barely noticed the other models, but stopped at Rachel. He knew her so well and had possessed her body more times than he could count, but this was a new Rachel. All her most intimate parts were openly displayed. Anyone who could afford the price of the magazine could see her in full colour. Or, of course, anyone prepared to steal it.

As he gazed at the pictures of his...wife?...yes, dammit, they weren't divorced; not even separated...Paul began to remember a holiday together at a beach hotel in Sri Lanka. It was a delayed honeymoon. At the time of their marriage funds were short and an exotic holiday was beyond their means. A week in Scarborough was all they could manage. It rained most of the time.

But Sri Lanka was different. Even though they had been married three years it still felt like a real honeymoon. They had both fallen in love with the place and promised themselves they would return, but they never had.

Sri Lanka.

Happy memories mixed with the more painful present as he gazed at the magazine. 

Sri Lanka.

The warm waters of the Indian Ocean gently lapped against the narrow strip of rocky shore which lay immediately beyond their balcony. The hotel consisted of two-storey blocks ranged round a large swimming pool and many of the rooms had a glorious view across the ocean. Paul and Rachel were on the ground floor at the end of the block. The front door opened out onto a general patio area leading to the pool; a short flight of shallow steps descended to the shore.

Shortly after their arrival, Paul took out the camcorder, eager to record the scene for posterity. Beginning inside the room, he left by the front door, videoing the pool area as he slowly walked along. He panned round to look at the block of rooms and walked back towards it, this time heading for the steps down to the shore. After taking in the sea view for a few moments, he panned round to the balcony of their room. Rachel was coming through the glass doors; she was naked.

A slight gasp at her daring and a small wobble of the camcorder were all that betrayed Paul's surprise. There were other people out on a balcony a couple of doors down, but partitions separating one room from another ensured they were unable to see anything. Anyone on the shore would have had a glorious view of his attractive wife, but there was no-one else to appreciate it.

She sat in a chair and draped one leg over the arm. Paul zoomed in to get a close-up of his wife's sweetest and most private parts, but the balcony rail proved to be a great hindrance. He moved up the shore in order to video over the offending rail. As he did so, Rachel slowly began to caress herself, gently running her fingers up and down the lips of her vulva.

Paul stopped the video and started to clamber over the balcony, but his foot caught on the rail and he collapsed in a heap onto the floor.

"Romeo, Romeo, where art thou, Romeo?" Rachel laughed.

"Oh, that's nice. Where's your concern? I might be badly hurt."

"No, lover. Not enough squealing. A small paper cut on your finger causes more reaction than you've just made."

"I'd just like you to be a little more worried," Paul grumbled. "Don't stop what you were doing. I want to video you."

Rachel lazily continued fingering her vulva as Paul videoed, moving in for a close-up as the outer labia opened, revealing the wetly gleaming entrance to her vagina. It was not something they had done before. In fact, Rachel had always resisted his attempts to film her in far less erotic poses than this. He had no idea why she had suddenly lost her inhibitions this way, but he wasn't about to discuss the reasons. This would be something worth watching on cold, dark winter evenings. Of course, this particular section would have to be cut from the edited version to be shown to family and friends!

Whilst Rachel continued working one hand between her legs, fingers pushing into her vagina, she used the other to caress her breasts. Wetting a finger, she rubbed it around both nipples until they were standing out, firm and straight. Paul was still recording the action, but he didn't know if he would be able to keep it going much longer. He was wearing white shorts and a suspicious bulge showed his penis begging to be released.

Rachel's breathing rate was increasing; her eyes were closed and her lips parted in a half smile. She opened her legs even wider and used both hands on her vagina and clitoris. Paul held the camcorder in one hand, still focussing on the action, but pulled down his zip with the other. He unfastened his shorts and let them fall around his ankles. The underpants presented more difficulties with only one hand available, so he had to be content with bringing his penis out through the centre opening. It was so hard it stood straight out at right angles from his body.

Rachel was beginning to moan as she reached a climax. The voices of other holiday-makers on their balconies above and around them drifted on the warm breeze. Paul vaguely wondered what they would think when they heard his wife cry out at her orgasm. For that matter, what would they think when they heard him give vent to his feelings as his cock released its semen.

Aware of the potential embarrassment, Rachel bit down hard on her lip in an attempt to stifle her cries. She was reaching for her climax, her body gleaming with sweat brought on by a combination of sun and sex; the warm breeze lightly caressed her skin, tingling with expectation.

Paul, determined to capture the moment on video, tried to ignore the feeling of growing power in his penis. It was anybody's guess as to which of them was going to climax first. He moved even closer, both penis and camcorder now hovering directly above Rachel, whose head was thrown back, her face contorted by the raw feeling of ecstasy enveloping her body from top to toe.

Her breath came in short, noisy gasps and her body went rigid as the orgasm came. Paul just managed to record the event before giving in to his own desire. Putting the camcorder, none too gently, onto a table, he placed his hands on the seat of the chair, either side of Rachel, taking his weight. At the same time he stretched out his legs, digging in his toes, and lowered his body down on his naked wife, who was flushed and gasping. Paul plunged his cock into her vagina up to the hilt. His balls slapped against her vulva as he pumped, swift and hard. Still feeling the effects of her orgasm, Rachel attained another at the same time as Paul's semen emptied into her.

Whether or not the neighbours had heard their sexual coupling held little concern for them at this moment. They both laughed with sheer joy and held each other close.

"How much did you get on video?" Rachel whispered after a few moments.

"Everything except my turn, I think."

Paul reached for the camcorder, ran it back to the beginning of the sequence and played it back. They watched together as the erotic escapade unfolded once more. Rachel blushed at the clarity of the image, which left nothing to the imagination.

"I can't believe that was me," she murmured. "I don't behave so...so wantonly."

"You do now." Paul tapped the camcorder. "And here's the evidence."

Rachel giggled and buried her face in her hands. Paul stood up, pulled on his shorts and stood by the rail looking out to sea. After a moment he felt his wife's arm round him; she was still naked.

"It's beautiful."

"Perfect." Paul looked at her. "Like you."

They kissed; a long, deep, passionate, loving kiss. A golden pathway lit by the sun, traversed the ocean until it found the couple on the balcony locked in a tight embrace.

Sri Lanka.

Paul slowly rolled the glass in the palm of his hand. The video was still at home, stuck away in a cupboard. He hadn't wanted to look at it since Rachel's departure, though he'd often viewed it before, both with her and alone. No-one else, of course, had seen it; she would never have allowed it; at least, at one time she wouldn't, but in recent months.....who knows?

He hid the magazine under some spare blankets - though had no idea why - and headed off towards the West End theatres. Curtain-up time wasn't far off, but he hoped to be lucky and find a seat for something that was reasonable.

*****

Paul was lucky. Not only did he get a good seat, the play was most enjoyable. It was a revival of a light comedy by George Bernard Shaw. It was funny, but also gave food for thought as it portrayed the social mores of a past age. He returned to the hotel in a somewhat brighter mood than when he left and headed across the foyer to the lifts. There was none immediately available so he pressed the button and stood leaning against the wall, his back towards the hotel entrance.

The lift reached the ground floor with a little ping and a swish of opening doors. Two women in evening dress stepped out, chattering non-stop. Paul entered the lift and reached out for the button, only to stop as a voice called out.

"Wait a moment."

The doors were closing, but Paul held them back as a man and a woman dashed into the lift, breathless and laughing.

"What floor?" For the first time Paul looked at the couple and froze.

"Fifth," the man replied, not taking his eyes off his companion.

She was undoubtedly beautiful and well worth looking at clothed in a long black, sleeveless cocktail dress, with a high side split and V-neck. Her hair was swept up and long jade earrings framed her face. A simulated fur coat was draped over her shoulders

The man, tall, elegant, grey-haired and at least twice her age, was wearing an evening suit. Ignoring the third person in the lift, he put his arms round the woman and pulled her close to him in a proprietorial way. He pressed his lips to hers, but also his crotch, grinding it against hers.

Paul, who had only pressed one button, marked 5, turned away, unable to bear the sight; he also wanted to hide, an impossibility within the confines of the lift.

The woman, still being kissed, looked over her lover's shoulder. She pulled her head away.

"Paul!"

"Erm....good evening, Rachel."

"How are you?"

"Tired after a long script conference. And you?"

"Quite well. Oh, this is....."

"James Pritchard." The elegant man thrust out his hand.

"Paul Cooper."

The two men shook hands in a formal, stiff manner.

"Erm...." Rachel obviously felt some kind of explanation was necessary. "Paul is...."

"An old friend," he quickly interjected. "From Yorkshire."

Rachel looked gratefully at him. "Yes. That's right."

"We lost touch when she left some time ago."

"It easily happens," murmured Pritchard.

Neither he nor Rachel offered any explanation as to their relationship. The lift reached the fifth floor, to the obvious relief of its occupants who all got out.

"Your floor, too?" Rachel nervously enquired.

"Yes. Quite a coincidence."

"Indeed." Pritchard sounded crusty. He took Rachel firmly by the arm and led her down the corridor, the floorboards creaking slightly beneath their feet.

Paul slowly followed, stopping at the door of his room, only three down from the lift. The couple went some distance further on and he watched as Pritchard inserted a card key in its slot. Rachel glanced back at her husband before disappearing into the other man's room.

Paul opened his door with a heavy heart and slowly walked into the bleak emptiness that confronted him. The presence of his wife, so near and yet so far, made him even more miserable than before going to the theatre.

***** 

The seconds, minutes, hours slowly ticked by, but Paul was unable to settle. He tried reading a book, but the words blurred together and he found himself gazing unseeingly at the same paragraph without any understanding of its meaning. He switched on the television, but was bored by every programme it offered within five minutes. He picked up a newspaper, bought on his way to the theatre, but found the news singularly uninteresting. He tried lying down and closing his eyes, but sleep resolutely refused to overtake him and put him out of his misery.

After tossing and turning for half an hour, Paul got up, crossed to the door, opened it and looked down the corridor towards the room where Rachel was even now....even now what? Of course he knew. No good trying to kid himself; she was having sex with James Pritchard, he of the haughty demeanour. The man was far too old for her. But age was not necessarily a barrier to good sex.

Dammit! He ought to march down there, bang on the door and drag her out. 

Impossible. For one thing, he had no idea precisely which door to bang on. For another, Rachel was no longer his wife, except in the legal sense. He had no rights, could make no demands or create a fuss. She could do as she liked and if she chose to be with this man, so be it.

Dammit!

Paul closed his door, thought for a moment, then took his book, opened the door slightly and left it ajar, using the up-ended book as a prop. He pulled on a dressing-gown, sat in a chair facing the door, and waited impassively.

Ironically he must have drifted off to sleep, because he suddenly jerked awake when a floorboard creaked. He quickly rose, put his eye to the narrow gap between door and jamb and caught a glimpse of Rachel as she walked along the corridor towards the lift. In front of the doors was a fairly extensive area with seats, large windows and a view across the city. A man in a dark suit was sitting on a small padded seat.

"Good evening."

"Hello." Rachel reached out for the button.

"I've been waiting for you."

Rachel looked surprised. "Me?"

"Yes. It's been a pretty long wait."




Two Can Play Ch. 12



"What do you want?"

"Oh, that's easily answered. You."

"What!"

"I'm quite willing to pay your going rate."

"What do take me for?" Rachel indignantly asked.

"A high class whore. You work the best hotels. Well, maybe not the best, but four star, at any rate."

"Please get out of my way."

"Don't be silly. I'm offering you business. Don't tell me one a night is enough."

"You're completely mistaken. Now, leave me alone or...."

"Or what? You'll call the management? I don't suppose they'll be too pleased about a prostitute roaming around the bedrooms of their fine hotel."

He took hold of her arm. "My room's right here."

"Darling, where are you going?"

The voice startled them both. Rachel swung round and saw Paul standing in the corridor.

"I....I...."

"Must have fallen asleep in front of the tele. Woke up and found you gone. What are you up to?"

"Oh..I..er..needed a walk."

"But it's half past two."

"Yes...er...the room felt so stuffy."

"Not a good idea to wander around at this time, is it?" Paul addressed the question to the man, who was still holding onto Rachel.

"Damned right. Most peculiar idea, if you ask me."

Paul looked puzzled. "Do you mind if I ask what you're doing with my wife?"

"Wife?"

"Mrs Cooper." Paul gestured towards Rachel.

"Well....I...I...."

"Come back to bed, darling." Paul masterfully conducted Rachel towards his room and through the door.

"Wait a minute." After a moment of doubt, the man had suddenly woken up to the fact that he was being taken for a ride. "Don't try and make a fool out of me. I know she's not your wife."

"Ah, but that's where you're mistaken. Good night."

Paul firmly shut the door.

"Oh, Paul!" Rachel held him tightly. "Thank God you were here. That awful man. I didn't know what to do."

"He certainly seemed to have you in a cleft stick. Is it true what he was saying? That you're a prostitute?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm an escort."

"Ah." Paul nodded. "A subtle difference."

"Yes." Rachel was defiant. "There is."

Paul looked closely at her. "You're still trembling. Come and sit down. I'll get you a drink."

"No. Thanks." Rachel kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I'd better be going."

"A bit risky with that randy fellow around. I don't think he was convinced by our little charade. He's probably still watching for you."

"He wouldn't dare do anything. Not now."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that."

"I....I can't stay. It would complicate matters."

Paul smiled. "I wouldn't mind a few complications."

He led her to a settee, gently removed her coat and sat her down. Rachel was still tense from her encounter with the man and offered no resistance. Paul busied himself getting a drink.

"You're here for a production meeting, I suppose."

"Yes. All the usual arguments and nonsense. God, how I long to be free of it all, but I've got to make a living."

He took the drink across and handed it to Rachel.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A pick me up. You look as if you need it." He sat in an armchair.

"Thanks." There was a long silence as Rachel sipped her drink, studiously avoiding eye contact.

"Why are you an escort?"

Rachel shrugged. "Why do you write 'Cottingly'?"

"Are you trying to suggest that prostituting my writing is the same as you prostituting your body?"

"Isn't it?"

"I don't think so."

There was another awkward silence.

"How's your book coming along?" Rachel asked.

"Not far off the end, but I'm still not sure how to finish it."

"Endings are always difficult."

"This one is," Paul murmured.

"What's the plot?"

"Husband and wife love each other. A moment of foolishness and weakness ruins everything. They separate, he's desperately unhappy. They meet again by chance; he tells her he still loves her, despite everything, and he wants very much to try again."

"But you don't know what she'll reply."

Paul nodded. "That's the problem."

"I suppose it depends whether or not she still loves him."

"It does."

"You're the author. Surely it's up to you."

"Funny thing, but characters in a book have a life of their own. It's almost as if they make the decisions and all the author can do is record them. Try to make them take the wrong road and they'll resist. Try to give them something out of character and they're most unhappy; almost wilful in their determination to stick with what they think is right."

Rachel giggled. "That's silly."

"True, I swear."

"So you really don't know whether your wife still loves her husband?"

"I really don't."

Rachel rose from the settee, slowly crossed to the armchair, sat on Paul's lap and lightly pressed her lips against his in a tender kiss.

"I like happy endings," she murmured.

They kissed more deeply, lips slightly apart, tongue reaching for tongue. Paul's penis was stirring into life. Rachel stood up, reached behind and pulled down the zip of her dress. She let it fall to the floor and kicked it aside before removing her bra and pants, both of them made of silk.

Dropping to her knees she reached through the gap in Paul's pyjamas and brought out the swelling phallus. Delicately holding it between the thumb and forefinger of one hand, she began to caress it with the other with a touch so gentle it was feather light. The penis quickly hardened, growing longer and thicker at the same time.

Paul sat with his head back and eyes closed, relishing the smooth touch of Rachel's hand. Long, slim fingers brushed up, down and around his pulsing cock. She began rolling it like dough between both hands until it stood even more erect and proud. Suddenly the stiffened member was enveloped in silk as Rachel wrapped her panties round it. She continued her gentle caress, but now the sensation of pleasure was even more heightened.

"Oh, God," groaned Paul.

"Am I hurting you?" Rachel mischievously enquired.

"I'm not going to be able to hold myself back much longer."

"I didn't know you had a fetish."

"What fetish?" Paul's voice sounded strained.

"Coming off in a pair of lady's silken panties. Do you like wearing them?"

"I've never tried, but it could become a habit. It's a great sensation. Oh." Another groan.

Paul's eyes were even more tightly closed, but he felt the silk removed from his throbbing member. Rachel took it into her mouth and began to draw it in and out, rolling her tongue around the shaft and head.

Paul opened his eyes and looked down at Rachel's head bobbing about as she worked on his penis. He smiled and ran his fingers through her silky hair. She paused briefly in her work, looked up and smiled back. She resumed her fellatio.

He was doomed. They both knew it. His semen was knocking at the door, eager to burst free and nothing was going to stop it. Rachel quickly thrust his penis between her breasts and pressed them around it as the dam broke. Paul gripped the edge of the chair, his knuckles showing white as he thrashed around in his orgasm. The thick, creamy liquid shot out, some of it landing on his thigh, while the rest trickled down Rachel's stomach.

They had a drink, then took a leisurely shower together, soaping each other with the greatest care and attention being spent on their most intimate parts. A combination of the warm water and gentle caress of his wife soon brought Paul's penis back to life. Rachel dried it with the towel feeling it rising with every touch.

"I think it needs to be inside you," Paul murmured.

"Nothing else will satisfy it?"

"Nothing."

"In that case....."

Rachel took Paul's hand and led him to the bed. She lay down, opened her legs and inserted two fingers into her vagina.

"You're ready." Paul clambered onto the bed, between her legs.

"Willing and able." Rachel smiled at him in invitation.

She held the vulva lips apart as Paul slid into her, diving deep until he could go no further. He held perfectly still for a few moments, his balls pressed hard against her, then began a slow rhythm; a rhythm which gradually became faster and faster. Now he knew how to complete his book. He would finally be able to write.

THE END