“Well, then, come along, Albert.”
“But, Deidre. .” Harvey began.
“Yes?”
“Well, I. . you know that I love you. .”
“And I love you, silly boy. But I also love Albert. So the two of you will just have to share me.”
She headed up the stairs, the velvet train of her gown trailing behind her. The two men remained where they were, each unable to take that first fateful step.
Halfway up, she turned to look over her shoulder. “Please,” she said, “don’t disappoint me. Remember our music. Remember what it’s like when we play together. And imagine the possibilities, the improvisations. The infinite variations.”
Al and Harvey stood there in the darkened living room, staring at the floor, for at least sixty seconds.
Harvey sighed, finally, and turned towards the stairway. “Last one up,” he said wryly, “is a rotten egg.”
The Gift
Saskia Walker
Lowering my eyelids, I wait with bated breath for Chloe’s instructions. I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, naked and ready. More than ready — my body is desperate with longing, my nipples growing hard as she approaches. As soon as she says my name, I look up at her, her willing doll as she applies my mascara.
That’s when Mac walks in.
“Don’t mind me,” he says, nonchalantly. He struts across the room — wearing a black T-shirt, leather jeans and boots — carrying three glasses of wine. His presence multiplies the tension in the room tenfold. I was already struggling to retain my composure, but now he is here and the seal is on the deal. We’re going to do it, the three of us.
I’d picked up the whispers at work. They’re swingers. They like to find a new playmate once in a while. When I heard that, it all fell into place. As a couple they intrigued me. Mac watched on while Chloe was the social butterfly, chattering, hugging and kissing her friends. The people who whispered had no clue that it would heighten my interest. It turned me on. Being bi, it was bound to. Besides, I’d had a crush on Chloe since the day I met her. Once I met her boyfriend I couldn’t get the pictures out of my head — erotic images of them together, and me getting in on the act. When Chloe asked me to come round to their place to prepare for club night with them, my libido and my imagination knew no bounds.
Mac sets one of the glasses down on the dressing table next to Chloe and then hands me the other. I swig from it gratefully, my blood pumping fast. He looks down at me, his eyes possessive as he surveys my naked body. Chloe undressed me while blithely informing me I was going to wear something of hers.
“Does Mac being here bother you?” She asks the question casually, but I know this is about my consent, consent to whatever follows.
I smile his way. “No, he doesn’t bother me. Not in a bad way, at any rate.”
Mac lifts his glass in my direction, apparently pleased by that. A sense of expectation exudes from him tonight. His eyes are hawk-like, not missing a thing, and his dark hair has been closely cropped, making him look even more mercenary than he normally does.
“Wonderful.” Chloe inserts the mascara wand back in its shiny silver tube, and then runs her fingers through my shoulder-length hair. “Are you ready to get dressed?” Her kohl-lined eyes are bright and simmering with suggestion. “I always think the right clothing can make you feel even more undressed,” she adds, suggestively.
I nod. I am so ready. Ready for it all. I want to touch her, hold her and taste her. I want to have her man climbing the walls because of what I’m doing to her.
Mac is pleased. “It’s like a ritual for you women, getting dressed up to go out.”
“I guess it is.” If this was a ritual, was I the sacrifice?
Chloe chuckles. “He likes the way I get turned on about dressing up.”
“That’s understandable,” I murmur, and Mac nods at me, silently exchanging the knowledge that we have in common.
Chloe walks to the wardrobe and opens the double doors with a flourish, the sleeves on her red silk kimono sliding against her beautiful pale skin. Chloe is all about fabrics: silks, velvets and leather. Their bedroom is a palace, decadent with sensual fabrics. Erotic prints punctuate the walls, offering suggestions for sex, everywhere. With one hand, she runs her black-lacquered fingernails over the club gear lined up at one end of the wardrobe. Her sleek black bob looks good with the red silk kimono, turning her into a 1930s silver screen diva. The kimono swings open and the soft pale skin of her cleavage, abdomen and bare pussy is revealed to me. It makes me want her more with every passing moment.
I watch as she flicks through the clothes, apparently deciding what to dress me in. We are near enough the same size, although I am not as luscious as Chloe. Mac moves and rests on the bed behind me, up against the headboard, while I sit naked between him and his girlfriend. I feel his gaze on me; hear the creak of his leather jeans at my back.
After some deliberation Chloe pulls out an outfit, clutching it against her, stroking the shiny surface to her breasts, her eyelids drop as she revels in the feeling of the luxurious, soft leather corset. “What’s the golden rule?” she asks.
“Boots first, then corset.” My naked skin tingles as I say the words. It was one of the first things she ever said to me, when I admired her boots on her first day in the office.
Chloe nods, grabs another hanger and steps over to the bed with them. She places the chosen items next to me. I stare down at them as she goes back to the wardrobe. Two black, boned corsets. One laces at the front, the other at the back. Mac makes a sound behind me when I stroke the leather, a sort of approving growl. My skin tingles with anticipation. Looking at Chloe I see that she is bending over, rooting about amongst the many pairs of boots piled at the bottom of the wardrobe. The red silk dips between her buttocks and thighs, gravitating into the heat there. I want to walk over, kneel down and rest my tongue against her pussy through the fabric, to wet and darken it with my mouth, making it stick to her groove. I could just picture how the damp silk would look clinging to her there.
She stands and walks back, carrying two pairs of boots. “You first,” she says and drops one pair, unzipping the other pair one by one. “Left foot.”
Resting my hands fl at on the bed either side of my thighs, I lift my left foot, obediently watching as my damson-painted toenails disappear into the boot. When she puts on the second boot, she gestures at me and I stand. Turning me around, she instructs me. “Bend over, and I’ll do them up for you.”
I’m facing Mac now, and he looks like a dark master lazing nonchalantly against the pillows. I can’t help noticing the bulge at his groin. I bend over, hands fl at to the bed so that she can zip the boots up the back of my legs, all the way to my thighs. The sense of vulnerability I experience makes me dizzy. My bottom is facing Chloe, my breasts on display to the man of the house. I feel like Chloe’s doll, and it’s incredibly arousing. I drop my head, my hair trailing over my face.
The sound and bite and clutch of the zip as it pulls the leather tight around my legs race through my senses. She moves from one leg to the other, humming softly as she does, her hand stroking the leather on to my skin. Her breath is warm against the back of my thighs as she moves, and I long for it higher still. My clit is already painfully swollen in the folds of my pussy, and I fight the need to squirm and rub myself.
She stands up behind me, drawing me upright too, holding my arms steady as I find the measure of the tall, spiked heels, lifting one and then the other as the leather settles against my skin. Her hands curve round my buttocks and she squeezes them tightly, resting a kiss against my shoulder blade before she ducks down to pick up the corset. She’s giving me the one that laces at the back, and I stare at Mac as she moves the garment around me, fleetingly squeezing my nipples between her finger and thumb. Mac watches all the while, his gaze hot. I have to close my eyes as I sway, delirious, savouring the touch of fingers and eyes on my body.