Chapter One
“The thing about Laurie,” Mark Anderton said, finally coming to the point after three food courses and a brandy’s worth of prevarication, “is that she can’t get enough.”
“Enough?” Vincent left the word hanging, whether out of politeness or confusion wasn’t clear.
Mark hoped it was the former. If it was the latter, he really didn’t think he had the heart to go into the details. He simply gave Vincent a terse nod and waited.
“And that’s why you’ve been cultivating me? Nothing to do with my great company or excellent taste?”
“Excellent taste does come into it.” The words rushed out of Mark’s mouth, relief spurring them on. “Of course, it does. You like Laurie, don’t you?”
“Of course, I like her. What man wouldn’t? But, you know, I would never have let that admiration cross the boundary…not without some kind of…”
“Permission?”
“Yes.” Vincent reached for the decanter, pouring them both another tumbler.
To Mark, the gesture seemed symbolic. Let’s talk business. Vincent wasn’t rejecting the proposition out of hand, so there were grounds for hope.
“Permission is what I’m here to talk to you about,” said Mark.
Vincent smiled. “This is the most surreal conversation of my life,” he said.
“Mine, too,” admitted Mark.
* * * *
It hardly seemed appropriate, but Laurie felt seized by the urge to look through her wedding album before she changed for dinner a few days later.
It was less than a year since that day on the sands in Antigua. She looked at herself, beaming and beautiful with her bouquet of tropical blooms then she looked at Mark, chest about to burst with pride. They made a good couple, didn’t they? Attractive, accomplished, embodying all the social graces. Who would guess at the secrets that lay behind their bedroom door?
For a second or two, Laurie experienced regret, even sadness. If only the perfect marriage to the perfect man could be enough for her.
But then she remembered that no two people were alike and that the cookie-cutter “perfect marriage” didn’t exist, and besides, all this had been Mark’s idea. She put the album aside and smiled quietly to herself.
If she and Mark decided to bring a third person into their bed, whose right was it to judge them? Nobody was scheming to cause anybody else pain. Only pleasure would be the result—mutual and lasting pleasure.
Her phone rang. The caller display read Mark.
“Darling?”
“We’re just leaving Vincent’s house.”
“And he’s still okay with all this?”
“More than okay, babe. It’s going to be fine.”
“Fine? Fine?”
Mark laughed. “Sorry. Bad word. Shall we go with stupendous? Or maybe outstanding?”
“Either of those.” Laurie laughed, but she knew Mark would detect the self-conscious catch in her throat.
“It’s okay to be nervous,” he said softly. “It’s normal. Well. I guess. Normal doesn’t really apply to us, does it?”
“No, thank God.” Laurie’s tone was robust, and she felt her nerve creep back. She was no coward and neither was Mark. They would do what was right for them.
“Exactly. Be brave, babe. We’ll be with you in half an hour. Vincent can’t wait to see you, and neither can I.”
She put down the phone and stood up in front of the mirror, giving her nude reflection a twirl. Vincent couldn’t wait to see her, Mark had said. Was it her smooth, tan skin and her gym-toned limbs he was so keen to explore? Years of dance classes had made her supple and flexible even now, five years after giving up on her dream of pursuing it professionally. Now, she hid her charms under sensible clothes, but did she need to do that tonight? There seemed little point in getting dressed. Everyone knew what they were there for.
She pulled on a silk robe, styled her hair to look unstyled and slicked on a bit of nude lip gloss and clear mascara. Then she lay on her back in front of the mirror, propped herself on one elbow and slowly, very slowly, spread her legs. The silken material slipped from her thighs, revealing the delta within, neatly shaved and clipped to reveal plump lips and a cheeky cherry of a clit. That hungry place might finally get its fill tonight, she thought, letting her fingertips dance lightly over the area, watching the polished pink ovals of her fingernails contrast with the darker flesh.
Mark was a virile lover, but he was only human. He could make it to five then he was out for the count. Laurie, in her wild, younger days, had sometimes taken three lovers at a time, juggling each with practiced finesse. None had ever found out about the others, and Laurie had experienced an all-too-brief period of perfect satisfaction, when sex wasn’t on her mind all the time because she was getting enough of it for once.
And two lovers at the same time…she drifted off, contemplating again all the delightful variations such a ménage could offer. If it worked out, and they wanted, Mark might even introduce more men to the arrangement. She imagined herself at the center of a web of erect cocks, taking them all, front and rear, in her mouth, in her hands, between her breasts, coming over and over again until she collapsed.
It could happen. The fantasy could be reality one day.
“One day at a time, Laurie,” she counseled herself, retying the gown and hauling herself to her feet. Mark and Vincent would soon be here. She needed to organize drinks and nibbles.
Dishes of cashews and olives littered all the available surfaces and the drinks’ cabinet was open and ready for business when she heard Mark’s key turn in the lock.
She pushed the recline button on the armchair and arranged herself into the position she had rehearsed—studiedly negligent, just on the right side of risqué, with her breasts half-exposed and the hem high on her thighs.
Mark came in first, laughing and casual in an open-necked shirt and cotton trousers. When Vincent followed, he stopped in the doorway for a moment and looked Laurie up and down as if he was a lion who had just spotted lunch.
Laurie was wet already. She wanted to give herself to him, drop the robe and open herself up and say, I’m ready.
She’d mentioned how attractive she found him the day he’d started working at Mark’s firm of solicitors. Mark, never the jealous type, had seemed to bring him up in conversation more and more, first just generally then during sex, inviting her to imagine Vincent’s cock plunging into the place Mark had just used, while he fingered her to yet another of the orgasms she craved.
The idea of bringing him into their relationship had grown by itself, without any particular force or pretext on either of their parts. It simply seemed a sensible solution to an unnecessary
problem.
“Interesting choice of outfit,” said Vincent, accepting the drink Mark poured for him.