He beats me to it. ‘Sloe Comfortable Screw!’ he shouts in triumph, hastening to the kitchen. ‘Against the wall,’ he adds from over his shoulder.
‘Lloyd’s funny, isn’t he?’ says Rachael indulgently.
‘Funny peculiar,’ I reply.
‘No, he’s a sweetie. I love the relationship you have. I envy you sometimes.’
‘Really?’
‘He’s so in love with you. And you’re so in love with him.’
‘Do you really think so?’
O weighs in. ‘Well, I don’t know you as well as Rachael does, but I’d certainly say so.’
‘When you work together every day, you have to get on with each other,’ I say, but I’m talking to myself. I don’t know why I have this need to play it down, to make it seem less than it is. The feeling that I don’t deserve him – getting louder and clearer each day – makes its unwelcome presence felt in my consciousness. Hello, old friend.
Lloyd returns with the drinks, plus what looks like a Whiskey Sour for him, and takes a seat in the armchair. Again, he can do little more than look at the three of us, lined up like the three submissive monkeys.
A sip of his drink galvanises him.
‘OK,’ he says. ‘We’ve discussed this beforehand, O, Rachael and I. I think it’s time for the appetiser.’
Appetiser? I don’t know what they mean, but they certainly do.
O and Rachael rise from the sofa and pull me up by my hands.
O sits back down in the middle and beckons me down on to her lap. I sit between her thighs, leaning back on her chest, her large pearls bumping against my shoulder blades. Her hands, heavily beringed, move around my front to cup my breasts.
‘Spread your legs, dear,’ she whispers into my ear.
I look up at Lloyd, who is entranced, running one fingertip round and round the rim of his glass. My naked thighs splay until my legs hang outside O’s stockinged knees, spreading my pussy wide.
O caresses my breasts and it feels reassuring, gentle.
‘That’s the girl,’ she croons. ‘Nice and wide. Lovely pert nipples here.’
She kisses my neck. She smells glorious, one of those old-school Parisian fragrances that were banned for being too close to the smell of sex.
Lloyd can’t seriously expect me to …
Rachael kneels down in front of us and skims perfectly manicured nails along the insides of my thighs.
‘Oh.’ I can’t help the little exhalation of helpless, fearful desire.
When her tongue curls inside my lips, her feminine touch and knowledge is so acute that I gush into her. O, holding on to me for dear life, begins to nip at my neck. Rachael really knows how this is done. She might lack Lloyd’s muscularity and firmness of purpose, but every lick hits home, deadly accurate, while my clit grows and my juices run ever thicker.
My body trembles, moving out of my control.
Lloyd’s face is almost too hard to look at. The expression of utter intensity frightens me. I shut my eyes, feel O’s rings snag at my nipples, Rachael’s nails dig into my skin. I try to take myself away from physical reality, find a place where I am not aroused, not exposed, not being eaten out by a beautiful woman while my lover watches. But the place can’t be found, the reality can’t be denied.
I begin to squirm and surge on O’s lap, trying to escape Rachael’s tyrannical attentions.
‘It’s no use, darling,’ whispers O. ‘If Rachael doesn’t make you come, we’re going to swap places. And believe me, I have never left a woman unsatisfied.’
‘It … isn’t … fair,’ I pant, and then I have to give in.
The orgasm is huge and tears me into pieces. I kick and wail until I fear for the women’s safety, my eyes tight shut, my hands flapping, my bare body undulating all over O.