'So I'll be back in a week. Not more than a week,' Devlin said. He was dressed again, his silk Sulka tie neatly knotted, his Huntsman suit perfectly tailored for his oddly shaped body, his hair as tidily brushed as its wiry stubbornness would allow, the air of business and money wrapped around him again like a heavy cloak. There was a bruise, to remind him of the encounter when he undressed for bed in New York, on his upper arm where the leather strap had bitten into his flesh as he'd fallen back on to the bed. It was hidden under the suit. It hurt slightly when he moved his arm. His buttocks hurt too. They felt tender, abused.
Stephanie had pulled on a black one-piece swimsuit and a light chiffon wrap and was walking him down the wide marble staircase, her arm in his, intending to swim as soon as she'd seen him off.
'And the Clarkes are arriving when?' she asked.
'This afternoon. The car's driving them up from Rome. They should be here about three. I've told them I've got to be away...'
'Don't worry. I'll look after them.'
'I don't know what they like.'
'Don't worry.'
'It would be very good if...'
'If?' Stephanie prompted.
'If they had a...' he searched for the right word, 'satisfying weekend.'
'They've never been here before then?'
'No. I've asked them before. This is the first time they've accepted.'
'Are they happily married?'
'As far as I know. I've done business with them for years. They're efficient, reliable. If I'm going to expand my textile business they'd be ideal partners.'
'And?'
'Well so far they've resisted all my approaches. They want to remain independent, or so they say.'
'And you can't buy them out?'
'No. Not unless they agree. They're a private company. If they were public it would be a different matter.'
They walked out through the thick wooden doors of the main castle entrance past the cobbled courtyard, littered with huge terracotta pots containing orange and lemon trees, and down the stone steps, worn by four centuries of use, to the sturdy wooden jetty that projected out into the still waters of the lake. The powerboat waited, its varnished wood and polished brass glittering in the sun.
Looking down into the clear water, Stephanie watched the shoals of tiny fish, blue and yellow and deep red, swimming between the wooden piles, darting energetically from one direction to another for no apparent reason.
'So you want to show them the advantages of being associated with you,' Stephanie said.
'The less obvious advantages. Of course, they may not regard them as advantages at all.'
'I'm sure I can find something to tempt their fancy,' she replied smiling almost to herself. It was an interesting thought. A challenge.
'I don't want to scare them off.'
'Perhaps all they want is a quiet weekend in the sun.'
'Perhaps...'
'Then that's what they'll get. On the other hand I might be able to interest them in something more... energetic.'
'I hope you can.'
'I'll give you a progress report tomorrow.'
Devlin's luggage had been loaded into the powerboat. Stephanie kissed him on both cheeks.
'Did I give you something to remember me by, Devlin?' she whispered.
'How could I forget?'
He climbed aboard the boat and sat on the padded seat in the transom. The boatman released the forward and aft lines and let the boat drift away from the rubber types hanging down from the wooden piles before gunning the big inboard motor.
'Don't forget Mrs Bloom,' Devlin shouted over the noise of the engine.
'I won't,' Stephanie shouted back. She waved as the boat cut a huge swathe through the clear water.
As soon as the boat had cleared the jetty and was heading out into the lake, Stephanie stripped off her wrap and dived into the water, made choppy by the boat's propellers. She swam out into deep water, stretching her muscles and feeling the silky soft water streaming around her slim body. In the distance she could see the powerboat heading across the lake, a diminishing dot on the horizon.
The fish, disturbed by the churning water, soon returned. They swam alongside her, not worried by the strange monster that had invaded their territory.
After thirty minutes she swam back to the jetty where a servant was waiting with a large white bath towel. In the downstairs cloakroom she stripped off the swimsuit and dried herself with the towel. She had taken to keeping a few clothes down here in the cloakroom to save herself the trek back upstairs to her bedroom. She changed into a creamy one-piece trouser suit, not bothering with underwear; its tailored plunging neckline revealed her naked cleavage.
On the terrace outside the main reception room of the castle, where guests were entertained al fresco, she ordered a light lunch of salad and fruit, all grown on the island. She allowed herself one glass of champagne. Though she had only sipped at the champagne while she was dealing with Devlin this morning, one glass was enough. She wanted to have all her wits about her when the Clarkes arrived.
By the time she had drunk a foamy cappuccino and nibbled a pair of Amoretti biscuits it was two o'clock. She had just time to check the gardens before she went to her room to change.
She walked through the long winding corridors that lead to the castle's back entrance and its extensive gardens that formed the rest of the island. There was no other habitation. The paid servants either lived in or went back to the mainland at night by boat.
It was a tortuous route and at first she had always got a servant to escort her. Eventually she'd learnt the way through the maze of poorly lit windowless halls and finally out, through a small wooden door at the top of the stone staircase on the outside of one of the thick round walls. From the top of the steps she could see most of the island beyond; a huge orchard neatly laid out, and, nearer to the castle, a red brick walled garden enclosing extensive greenhouses, plots for every sort of vegetable and flower, and a small vineyard planted on the north side of the enclosure.
It was in this acreage which most of the slaves spent their daylight hours. There were exceptions, of course. Some were employed in the castle, some cleaned the cellars, but generally speaking the castle and the castle kitchens were served by paid staff and the slaves were used for more menial duties out here in the gardens. There was a great deal of work to be done to keep the horticulture in order. It was hard work too.
Stephanie walked through the wrought-iron gate into the walled garden. There were three male overseers who supervised and instructed the slaves in what had to be done, and saw to it that they did what they were told to do. They were all Italian. Stephanie knew them all now and had learnt enough Italian to ask them if they had any problems whenever she roamed the gardens.
The regimen at the castle was strict. Occasionally one of the slaves would forget the reason for his enslavement and rebel, refusing whatever task he or she had been allotted. Generally the rebellions did not last long. It was pointed out to the individual concerned that if they did not wish to continue at the castle then they would be taken to the mainland and hence to their country of origin, and the evidence of their early wrong-doings - which had landed them at the castle in the first place - presented to the police. It was, and always would be, their free choice to go back whenever they wished.
The first reminder usually - in fact to date, always - seemed to bring compliance. Prison was not an acceptable alternative. However the initial rebellion could not go unpunished and there were various means to see that the slave would think twice before having to be delivered of another lecture on freedom of choice. It was now a rule, one that Stephanie had introduced, to require the slave to ask for the punishment of any transgression, in fact to beg to be punished. This served as a simple reminder that they had a choice, though a choice they had chosen not to take.
But despite the logic of these rules, Stephanie had noticed that among the constantly changing population of slaves at the castle there were always troublemakers, those willing to take the punishment and still, by further insolence or disobedience, come back for more. She supposed it was not surprising. In any group there were always those who wanted to challenge the system. Or perhaps the rebels had a different motivation; perhaps they actually liked the punishment. After her experience with Devlin that was not, after all, too far-fetched.
As she passed through the rows of the vegetable garden she saw one of the 'rebels' now hoeing weeds between long lines of courgette plants. Three times in the last weeks Amanda had refused allotted tasks and three times had been lectured and punished. It would not be the last time either. Stephanie was sure of that.
Amanda looked up as Stephanie walked by. She was a short-haired brunette with very light brown eyes. Though not tall her figure was well proportioned. She had high breasts, a slim waist and full round hips, though all well hidden under the baggy working clothes all the slaves wore in the gardens.
'Bitch,' she whispered when she thought Stephanie was out of earshot.
'What did you say?' Stephanie barked turning back.
'Nothing,' Amanda replied not bothering to look up from the blade of the hoe.
Stephanie thought of letting it go, but she didn't want to give Amanda the satisfaction of thinking she'd got away with anything.
'What is it, Amanda?' she said solicitously, walking up the row of courgettes to stand besides her. Amanda was sweating. The band of cloth that held her hair out of her eyes was wet; her forehead was beaded with sweat. 'Are you homesick perhaps? Would you like to go home? That can be arranged. I've told you that, haven't I? You only have to say the word.'
'No,' Amanda said adding 'madam' grudgingly.
'Then you want to be punished for insolence?'
'No, madam.'
'It must be one or the other, Amanda. I don't understand you. Why do you make life so difficult for yourself?'
One of the punishments was to be given to one of the garden overseers. The female slaves hated this most of all. The overseers were hard and crude. They had little finesse but an apparently boundless appetite for sex. Amanda had been given to one last week. The experience seemed to have done nothing to quieten her dissidence.
Amanda looked up into Stephanie's eyes. Her expression was defiant.
'You didn't answer my question,' Stephanie said.
'Yes,' she replied. 'Punish me, you bitch.' She said it firmly, her eyes not wavering. 'I like it,' she hissed.
Stephanie raised her hand and touched Amanda's cheek. It was flushed with effort and hot. Amanda did not flinch as the back of Stephanie's hand moved up her cheek gathering beads of perspiration from her ruddy complexion. Their eyes remained locked together. Stephanie licked the sweat from her hand. It tasted salty. Her desired flared.
'Tonight then,' Stephanie said walking away, managing to control the strong reaction Amanda had provoked.
If she had had time she would have liked to punish her there and then, and had her stretched out against a tree, her working clothes pulled down, her buttocks exposed. She would have had all the other slaves watch while one of the overseers delivered the punishment, which the girl would be made to ask for again.
But there was no time. It would have to wait. The Clarkes were the first priority.
Back in her bedroom Stephanie thought about what she should wear to meet the Clarkes. As they knew nothing of the more exotic recreations available at the castle - not yet at least - she didn't want to appear too obvious or outrageous. As Devlin had said she didn't want to scare them off. On the other hand a suggestion of the delights that lay ahead if they chose, would not be a bad idea. It might set the agenda and that would do no harm.
She chose a white suit and decided not to wear a bra or a blouse. With the suit jacket buttoned there was more than a suggestion of rich cleavage and, if someone cared to worm themselves into the right position at the right time, no doubt the jacket would reveal a great deal more, but not without effort.
Under the skirt she wore a white suspender belt, white stockings and lacy white French knickers, split at the sides almost to the waist. In the spirit of modesty the skirt of the suit was well over the knee in length. If the Clarkes ever got to see the expensive trappings under the skirt, by that time, they would have taken the bait.
Stephanie was equally careful with her make-up, wanting it to make an impression but not, at the same time, be over dramatic. As she applied the last strokes of the eyeliner and pinned her long black hair into a chignon at the back of her head, she heard the engines of the powerboat approaching from across the lake. By the time she had slipped on her high heels - the shoes she had decided should be another hint, they were much higher than normal day wear, with wicked spiked heels - and walked through the castle and down the stone steps to the jetty, the boat was already nosing its way into the rubber tyres and one of the white-linen coated servants was tying off the forward line.
Mr and Mrs Clarke were sitting in the seats on the transom both wearing hats and sunglasses against the glare of the sun, which was reflected off the waters of the lake.
'Welcome,' Stephanie said as the aft line was secured. She held out her hand to help Mrs Clarke ashore and, once she was safely on the jetty, did the same for her husband. 'Stephanie Curtis... I hope you had a good journey.'
'Lovely. Such beautiful countryside,' Mrs Clarke replied, pulling off her hat and raking through her hair with her fingers. She was a golden blonde, her hair the colour of ripe wheat on a sunny day. She was slightly taller than Stephanie even in the lower heels she was wearing. Perhaps it was the radiant hair or her flawless peachy complexion but Mrs Clarke gave the impression of rude health.
Her husband, on the other hand, was rather pallid and unhealthy looking; too many days spent inside in an office. He was shorter than his wife and Stephanie and almost completely bald, his only hair growing in a greying horseshoe around his shining pate. He was not fat but could not accurately be described as thin either. A slight paunch was beginning to droop over the waistband of his trousers.
'It's very nice of Devlin to invite us,' Mr Clarke said.
'Everything he said about this place is true so far,' his wife added. 'It's like a fairy-tale castle. Is there a sleeping beauty inside?'
'You'll have to discover that for yourself.' Stephanie said. 'If you follow me. The servants will bring your luggage.'
Stephanie led the way up the stone steps, across the cobbled courtyard and into the castle. The two guests 'ohhed' and 'arghed' over the various features like the view, the potted orange trees, the huge modern tapestry that hung in the main hall, and the long sweeping marble staircase up to the galleried first floor.
'Would you like to see your rooms first or have a drink. Tea, coffee, champagne?'
'Oh champagne definitely,' Mrs Clark said. 'That would be wonderful.'
They walked up to the main terrace. Mrs Clarke headed for a table in the shade of a large lime tree. Her husband joined her while Stephanie arranged for the champagne.
'The lake is marvellous for swimming,' she said coming to sit at the table. Mrs Clarke had taken off her sunglasses. Her eyes were bright and quite a dark shade of blue. She was a startlingly beautiful woman, the long flaxen hair framing the perfect complexion, high cheek bones, a straight nose and a firm angular chin held proudly by a long elegant neck. In fact everything about Mrs Clarke was a picture of elegance, the practical but well-fitted shirt-waister she was wearing, the way she moved, the way she sat, the way she held her hand, with one finger touching her throat and the others spread, as she talked.
'I think we must be in heaven,' she said, her fingers caressing the arch of her collarbone.
Stephanie was leaning forward, her jacket hanging loosely. She saw Mrs Clarke's eyes flick down: they were not quick to leave.
'I'd love to have a swim,' Mr Clarke said.
'Let's have our champagne first, darling,' his wife said seeing the waiter emerging from the castle.
The waiter set the silver tray on the table. A Georgian silver wine cooler held a bottle of Louis Roederer Crystal swathed in ice. The waiter opened the bottle and poured the wine into three crystal flutes.
'Here's to a pleasant stay,' Stephanie said, raising her glass and clinking it against the side of both of the others.
'How rude of us,' Mrs Clarke said. 'This is Terry and I'm Jacqueline. Inevitably everyone calls me Jacqui... Oh, this is delicious.'
They chatted about this and that. Stephanie noticed that Terry's eyes also wandered to the V-shaped lapels of the jacket and the single button that struggled to contain her unconstricted breasts. But she, in turn, found herself watching his wife, her long cultured legs, her bare arms, the very distinct line of her bust. Behind the conviviality and small talk Stephanie felt an undertone in the conversation. Or perhaps she was just imaging it. Perhaps Jacqui's attractions were affecting her judgement.
'Well I'd like to swim now,' Terry announced. 'The water looks so good!'
'And I need a shower,' Jacqui said.
Dutifully Stephanie showed them upstairs. All the bedrooms in the castle for the guests were vast and palatial, all with en suite marble bathrooms and most with terraces overlooking the lake or gardens and orchards at the rear. But Stephanie had chosen a room next to Jacqui's for convenience sake. Having a south facing terrace, it would also provide the most sun.
Stephanie showed them into the pink silk panelled room with its deep olive carpet. Flowers had been freshly picked from the garden and arranged in a huge display on the occasional table in front of the large sofa that faced the bed. Jacqui walked out on to the terrace and admired the view of the lake. There were more 'ohs' and 'arghs' as the couple roamed around. Stephanie showed them the fridge hidden in the silk panelling and the telephone to order breakfast or anything else they might want.
'I'll leave you to get unpacked then,' Stephanie said. Their luggage was neatly stacked by the wardrobes. 'If there's anything you want just ask for it.' She felt like the manager of a first-class hotel.
'Thanks,' Terry said. He'd opened his suitcase and was routing around for his bathing trunks.
'There's towelling robes on the back of the bathroom door,' Stephanie said helpfully.
'Oh great...' he said disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
'We'll see you at dinner then,' Jacqui said.
'And don't hesitate if there's anything you need. I'm in the room next door.'
'I won't,' Jacqui said. For a second their eyes met. Jacqui's expression was quizzical, enquiring, probing.
'Dinner's at eight if that's all right?'
'Fine.'
Stephanie let herself out of the room.
Half an hour later, from her terrace, Stephanie was watching a solitary figure swim out into the lake. Terry swam strongly and well, cutting a swathe through the calm waters until he reached one of the many tiny outcrops of rock that were dotted here and there in the great expanse of the lake. Stephanie watched as he hauled himself on to the rock and sat in the sun, giving a good impression of Rodin's 'The Thinker'.
There was a confident knock on her bedroom door. Stephanie got up and went inside.
'Hope you don't mind.' It was Jacqui.
'Not at all, I told you. Come in.' She stood aside to let Jacqui in.
'Terry's charged off. Couldn't wait to get into the water. Surprisingly he's quite athletic. Always playing games of some sort.'
'I saw him. He's a very good swimmer.'
Jacqui was wearing the towelling robe from the bathroom. Her hair was still wet from the shower.
'I wondered what I should wear tonight. Is it very formal?'
'Let's go out on the terrace. The sun'll dry your hair.'
They walked outside and Jacqui arranged herself at the table sitting with her back to the sun so her hair got the maximum benefit.
'My husband thinks you're stunning,' Jacqui said as Stephanie sat opposite her.
'That's very flattering. But he can hardly complain. You are a very beautiful woman.'
'Thank you. I always think a compliment from another woman is a real compliment.'
'Real?'
'Well men will say anything to get into your knickers, won't they?'
'I suppose so.'
'A woman doesn't have any ulterior motive.'
'Doesn't she?' Stephanie said it firmly, wanting Jacqui to understand what she was saying. 'Do you mind if I take my jacket off, it's too hot out here for clothes.'
'Of course not.'
'I was just going to change...'
Stephanie slipped the jacket off to reveal her firm up-tilted breasts. She watched Jacqui's reaction. Outwardly there was none. Her eyes weighed Stephanie's breasts as if trying to guess her bra size.
'I'll go and get a bikini,' Stephanie said.
'Not on my account, please,' Jacqui said flatly.
'As you can see I don't usually wear anything out here.' Stephanie's breasts were as tanned as the rest of her.
'It must be marvellous.'
Stephanie unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it.
'Stockings!' Jacqui exclaimed. 'My God, I can't remember the last time I wore stockings.'
Stephanie said nothing. She put her foot up on the chair and unclipped the two suspenders on her right thigh. She rolled the white stocking off her leg. Taking her time, she repeated the process with her left leg.
'You're sure you don't mind?' she said disingenuously as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the French knickers.
'No...' Jacqui said quietly. She watched the silk and lace knickers shimmer down Stephanie's long legs.
As Stephanie reached behind her to unhook the suspender belt she saw Jacqui's eyes centred on the thick thatch of her pubic hair.
'That's better,' Stephanie said sitting down at the table again.
'No bikini lines at all.'
'None.'
'You've got a beautiful tan.'
'I should have, shouldn't I? All this sun and privacy.'
'I suppose so.'
They sat for a moment in silence. It was a pause. A pause before the next step. Both women knew it.
'It's hot,' Jacqui said breaking the silence. She stood up and pulled off the towelling robe. Her body was as sensational as its outward appearance had suggested. Her shoulders were slim and bony, her waist well defined, her long legs firm and contoured. The light hair of her pubic triangle was short, almost as though it had been trimmed, the hairs soft despite their lack of length. But it was Jacqui's breasts that most attracted Stephanie's attention. They were full, heavy, thick breasts, rising from her chest precipitously with no hint of sagging. They stood proud, their nipples surrounded by a wide band of brown areola.
The two naked women faced each other. Jacqui did not sit down again. There was another pause. Now it was Stephanie's turn to do something.
'I'm going to lie in the sun,' Stephanie said getting up. She pulled the large double-sized lounger round until it was in the full sun, then adjusted it so that the padding was completely flat, just like a bed. A bed of desire. She lay down and stretched herself out on it. There was lots of room for two. Or there was another lounger Jacqui could use. It was her choice. Stephanie closed her eyes and waited.
'What did you mean?' Jacqui said, coming to stand by the foot of the lounger.
'About what?' Stephanie replied, her eyes still closed.
'About women having ulterior motives?'
'Isn't it obvious?'
'Not to me.'
'Well perhaps we'd better leave it at that then.' Another silence. The waters of the lake lapping against the side of the jetty down below them was the only sound.
Jacqui's hand was at her throat again, her fingers spread, her hand moved slightly, unconsciously. She looked down at Stephanie's naked body. Stephanie's legs were slightly apart and she could see the crinkled rough skin of her labia. She wasn't at all sure she wanted to admit to herself what she was feeling. Without really being aware of how, she found herself sitting on the edge of the lounger, her thigh inches from Stephanie's side.
'You are very beautiful,' Jacqui said emphasising 'are' in her mind as well as in her speech, as though it were a justification, as though it were somehow Stephanie's body that was making her feel the way she did.
'And you say that without an ulterior motive?'
Beautiful and clever, Jacqui thought. 'I don't know.'
'Do you want to find out?'
It was a good question. Did she want to find out? Did she want to be honest with herself or run away?
'I suppose... you've made me feel...'
'What?'
'Feel.'
Jacqui leaned forward and, as though expecting to receive an electric shock, touched Stephanie's thigh.
'You're a very beautiful woman, Jacqui,' Stephanie said. She put her hand on top of Jacqui's hand.
'And you have an ulterior motive?'
'Definitely,' Stephanie said.
The word hung in the air. Jacqui did not remove her hand, nor did Stephanie.
'I've never done anything like this before.'
'Neither had I - until recently.'
'Recently?'
'The last months. I discovered I could get a lot of pleasure from a woman. Different pleasures.'
'Oh.'
'What?'
'I thought you were...'
'Jacqui, I love men. It's just different with a woman. It didn't put me off men. In fact it makes it better. It's all part of sex.'
'Is it?'
'I think so.'
There was another silence. Very slowly Jacqui's hand moved out from under Stephanie's. It inched up her long flank, over her waist to her breast. As though in slow motion the nail of her middle finger, painted a reddish shade of peach, reached the puckered nipple and gently grazed against the half-inch tip. Stephanie remained perfectly passive.
Tentatively Jacqui's hand covered the whole of Stephanie's breast and then cupped it, squeezing it gently, as though trying to judge its weight. This done it continued down over Stephanie's navel. It reached the first outcrop of thick curly black pubic hair. It pushed on, until the fingers were entwined with the hair, half veiled by it. There her hand came to rest.
There was a chance that Jacqui would end her experiment there, that she would pull her hand away, stand up and go back to her room. Run away.
'Lie next to me,' Stephanie said sensing her hesitation, sensing she needed to say something.
Jacqui lay down and closed her eyes. Very gently Stephanie turned on her side and kissed her on the upper arm. Jacqui's body was rigid, unyielding. Stephanie kissed her shoulder. Equally gently she moved her hand to cup one of her breasts. As Jacqui did not react, did not push her hand away, she was emboldened. She squeezed the mass of flesh. Jacqui moaned the faintest of moans.
It was as though the same thought occurred to them both at the same moment for the same reason. As Stephanie came to lean over to kiss Jacqui on the mouth, Jacqui wanted to hesitate no longer and turned her head to Stephanie to find her mouth. They kissed hungrily, their mouths meeting in midair, until Jacqui sank her head back on to the padding of the lounger allowing Stephanie's lips to feel hers. But Stephanie was cautious. She kept her tongue back, wanting to take things step by step. Neither did she move to lie on top of Jacqui, pressing herself into her side instead.
But Jacqui's tentativeness had disappeared, falling away like a veil from a statue, as a wave of acute desire swept through her body. Almost immediately Stephanie felt Jacqui's tongue probing up into her mouth, hot and wet, as her hands came to hold Stephanie's cheek in the kiss. She was kissing hard, pushing up, turning her head this way and that to move her lips, squirming them against Stephanie's mouth as her tongue exploded and her mind tried to cope with the new experience. It felt so different from kissing a man, softer, more sensual.
It was as though the kiss ignited her, as though it confirmed whatever had decided her to take the final step. Her hands ran down Stephanie's back, wrapping around it, while she turned on her side so that their bodies met, breast on breast, navel on navel. Stephanie felt Jacqui's heavy tits pressing into her own, their nipples hard as little pebbles, the flesh squashed flat, ballooning sideways in an effort to escape the crush. Jacqui's hands were on Stephanie's buttocks now, caressing and kneading them, pulling her closer until she could feel her pubic bone hard against her own.
If Stephanie had thought at all about this encounter - and truthfully she had not, other than the looks she had seen Jacqui giving her - she would have thought that she would have been the one to take the initiative. But so far, despite her inexperience, it was Jacqui who was leading. Stephanie, her pulse racing, was happy to follow.
In this spirit Jacqui rolled on top of her and broke the kiss, moving her mouth down to Stephanie's neck instead, and then down further until she gobbled up her nipple, squeezing it first with her lips and then pinching it between her teeth. She had never felt a woman's nipple before. It felt good. It made her feel excited. It made her feel wild.
As she pinched again Stephanie gasped with pleasure arching off the padded mattress of the lounger.
Jacqui had pushed one thigh between Stephanie's legs so her thigh muscle was hard against the curve of Stephanie's pubic bone. Now she let go of her nipple and moved herself so her body could press itself into the whole length of Stephanie's body, and her short soft pubic hair was pushed exactly over Stephanie's thick black curls. Triangle on triangle, their breasts once again nestled together. As soon as their bodies were matched Jacqui started to thrust forward, using her hips, exactly as if she were a man, as though she were a man with a cock, moving as though she were fucking Stephanie. But there was no cock, only the hardness of her pubic bone. At first Stephanie felt little, but then, as Jacqui's body drove forward rhythmically she found, by angling herself up off the lounger, she could increase the pressure on her clitoris. As soon as she had done this she heard Jacqui moan. The angle of their bodies had changed, their clitorises had come together, one on one, ground together by hard bone, both stretched and exposed. The more Jacqui thrust, the more Stephanie felt. Though there was no penetration it felt like Jacqui was going deeper because the pressure was gradually stripping away everything but the tiny knot of swollen nerves. One on one.
'Don't stop,' Stephanie managed to say, as she felt her orgasm beginning.
'Yes, yes...' Jacqui said, then kissed Stephanie on the mouth, again taking the initiative, plunging her tongue deep between Stephanie's willing lips.
The more she drove forward, the more the contact between their two buds of feeling seemed to increase. Stephanie could feel her own wetness, or was it Jacqui's, there was no way of knowing. She had never experienced this before, a hard swollen clitoris, like a miniature cock, fucking her own so exquisitely. Such a tiny area of sensitivity producing such mammoth waves of sensation. She tried to kiss Jacqui back, push her tongue into her mouth, but suddenly she could do nothing but feel. Her orgasm was coming now like an express train roaring down the track, all noise and steam and energy, and there was nothing she could do but lie there and feel the inevitable explosion as Jacqui's clitoris hammered into her own.
She came, the feeling focused in that tiny knot of nerves like she had never felt it focused before. But almost instantaneously every nerve in her body joined in, locked into the pleasure, turned her whole body into a trembling mass of uncontained sensation.
She knew Jacqui had come too. It may have been entirely the product of her fevered imagination but she thought she could feel Jacqui's clitoris flare, like the tip of a safety match striking a light, as Jacqui could not help but stop the rhythm and surrender to the climax she, herself, had induced.
They clung to each other, breathless. Their orgasms subsided but there were little wrinkles and notches of feeling in the aftermath that caught them by surprise in the ebb tide, like big rocks in the sand holding back the water. Their grip on each other was mutual, as though letting go would be the final admission that their orgasm was over. It was a long time before their bodies were completely stilled.
'My God...' Jacqui was the first to speak. 'I never thought I'd do it.'
'What? Have sex with a woman?' The words didn't sound as if they matched what they had just experienced.
'Yes.'
'Have you ever thought about it before?'
'Yes. I've thought about it a lot. A hell of a lot if I'm truthful. I thought about it when I first saw you on the jetty too. And at the table. I could see your breasts.'
'And?'
'And?'
'Is it better than you imagined?'
'Oh yes, yes,' Jacqui said definitely. 'I don't know how it would be with someone else though. There's something about you. I wanted you. I've thought about it before in general, in the abstract. But this time it was specific. I wanted you.'
Stephanie laughed. 'You sound like a man.'
'Exactly.'
'I wanted you too, Jacqui.'
'Do I have to feel guilty?'
'About what?'
'Usually if something feels this good in life you have to feel guilty about it.'
'That's up to you. I told you, it doesn't mean you'll suddenly lose interest in men. There's a whole range of sexual experiences isn't there? It just means you're broadening your vocabulary. There are other things you can learn here...'
"What other things?' Jacqui asked eagerly.
Stephanie didn't want to introduce the subject of the cellars just yet.
'All in good time.'
'Stephanie...' Jacqui said earnestly. She held out her hand and touched Stephanie's cheek tenderly.
'Yes?'
'I'm not finished, are you? I mean...' She smiled a wicked, knowing smile. She wanted more.
Stephanie got up from the lounger and held her hand out to help Jacqueline up too. Keeping hold of her hand she lead her back into the bedroom. She stripped the counterpane off the bed to reveal the white silk sheets.
'Lay here,' she said firmly. Now it was her turn to take the initiative.
Jacqui lay on the bed, her long supple legs stretched out, her heavy tits pulled over to the side by their weight, their nipples corrugated by her passion, her slim waist in contrast to the fullness of her hips. Her legs were open slightly; the short blonde hair of her pubis looked as though it had been combed into a strict pattern, every hair pointing inwards and downwards to the apex of the V-shape made by the creases at the top of her thighs.
Stephanie stood looking at her for a moment. It was, comparatively speaking, such a short time since she had first taken pleasure in a woman's body, that she still felt an excitement at the newness of it all. She shivered as she remembered the orgasm this woman had just given her.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Stephanie began to caress Jacqui's smooth calf and slim ankle using both her hands. Jacqui opened her legs wide, pulling her free leg up and bending her knee. Stephanie could see the whole of her sex. The folds of her labia were quite thin but on either side of the long slit that ran between her legs, her flesh was swollen and puffed up, making the valley seem deeper and darker. Here her pubic hair was virtually non-existent, the thinnest possible covering of downy short hair.
Jacqui grasped her own breasts in her hands, kneading them, pushing them together, then holding them apart, making circles on her chest with them. As if the idea had just occurred to her she tried to get her left nipple into her mouth. It was not difficult. She sucked it eagerly. Then she fed the right breast up to her mouth and pinched at its nipple with her teeth.
Stephanie could see her excitement, the excitement of doing something for the first time and discovering it was pleasurable, better than pleasurable. Sex was inextricably involved with self. Discovering an aspect of sex was the pleasure of self-discovery. Stephanie had experienced it so recently herself that she could remember the feeling in detail. It was a feeling, a whole set of feelings, she would never forget.
Kneeling up on the bed, Stephanie moved her hands up Jacqui's long thigh. She caressed it, working all the time higher, until she could feel the heat of Jacqui's cunt radiating from the long open slit of her sex.
With the tip of her forefinger she found Jacqui's clitoris buried in what looked almost like the padded flesh of her genitals.
'Yes...' Jacqui moaned enthusiastically.
Stephanie tapped it.
'Suck it, suck it!' Jacqui begged.
Stephanie was only too happy to oblige. She bent forward and gathered the whole of Jacqui's labia into her mouth, then prised her tongue on to her clitoris. She heard Jacqui moan.
Slowly Stephanie nudged the bud of nerves with her tongue, making it wet, circling it, wanking it. She could feel Jacqui's reaction to these tiniest of movements, which were amplified and magnified by every nerve in her body, all in harmony with her clit, all ready to join in the chorus of whatever it was feeling.
'Oh God... It's so good. I had no idea it would be this good.'
Stephanie could feel the rhythm and pulses of her body, the waves of feeling emanating from what was, at least for the moment, the centre of her world. Every time she pushed the clitoris up with her tongue Jacqui's body pushed up too, arching off the bed. It came down as Stephanie's tongue licked down. Up and down. Up and down. Jacqui's whole body poised on the tip of Stephanie's hot, knowing tongue.
Stephanie knew Jacqui was starting to come. She could feel it so accurately it was as though she was coming herself. It was almost like masturbating. Doing the right thing, the pace, the pressure. Exactly right.
At the last moment Jacqui grabbed her own tits again squeezing them so tightly they reddened, as though she were afraid they would escape the feeling that was welling up inside her. She looked down her body and saw Stephanie's head bobbing between her legs and knew it was that image, that thought - a woman sucking her off, a woman! - that made her come as fiercely, as hard as she'd ever come in her life. Every nerve exploded. She felt her eyes roll back in her head, her world go black, deep, deep, space black, and a sudden rush of wetness, like a river, gush out of her.
Stephanie waited for the explosion to subside. Then she kissed Jacqui's labia just once as though kissing a mouth, a paternal, gentle, comforting kiss. She was about to pull away when she heard the voice.
'What the hell do you think you're doing with my wife?'
Terry Clarke stood in the middle of the bedroom in a white towelling robe over his bathing trunks with a white towel wrapped around his neck like a boxer. His expression of surprise, disbelief and disgust was written on his face as if in ten-foot letters of flashing neon.
Stephanie hadn't the slightest idea of what to say. She kicked herself mentally for not locking the bedroom door. This was going to be a great start to their supposedly dream weekend. Far from being enamoured of Devlin and what he could offer, Terry Clarke would never want to hear his name again.
'Fuck me, Terry.' It was Jacqui's voice, calm, level and unwavering.
'What!' he exploded.
'You heard. Fuck me. I need your cock. Look at me for Christ's sake. Look at me. Can't you see how much I need it?'
'She's just...' he stuttered, his mind telling him one thing while his body reacted differently. The sight of two beautiful women, naked, lying in a pool of sexual passion was too much for his body to ignore. The towelling robe had fallen open. Stephanie could see his erection bulging from the tight material of his trunks. But he still hesitated.
'You've just been fucked.' He was trying to sound angry, to renew his shock. But the moment had passed. His body was demanding other priorities.
'Terry... please,' his wife begged. 'Fuck me.'
His eyes were riveted on his wife's cunt. It glistened with juices, her own and Stephanie's. He had never seen her look so wild, so wanton, so open. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, her mouth slack with passion.
And there was the other woman. Naked too. Naked and available. Her thickly matted cunt in such contrast to his wife's.
His body won the internal argument. In a frenzy of movement, he tore off his robe and pulled his trunks down. Belying his appearance in clothes, Terry's body was hard and muscular. His stoutness was the result of muscle not fat, his nascent paunch less noticeable.
Ignoring Stephanie for the moment, he knelt between his wife's legs and thrust his fingers into her soaking wet cunt. They went right up to the knuckle. Jacqui moaned.
'You bitch,' he said. Stephanie wasn't sure if he meant her. She made to get up off the bed.
'No,' Jacqui said immediately. 'Stay, stay please. I want her to watch, Terry. I want her to watch you fucking me.'
That was the end of his control. He could no longer think of rights and wrongs, of shoulds and should nots, of blame or anger; he could only think of lust, passion, sex. He threw himself down on to his wife's supine body. His cock slid into her instantly, her cunt so wet it created no friction. At once he started to ram it home. There was no subtlety, no finesse. There was nothing but his remorseless need. He would show her what a man could do. No woman could give her this, he repeated in his head. This, this, this, he told himself ramming forward harder and deeper each time.
Jacqui was crying out, gasping, moaning, fighting to get her breath. His first assault had made her come, and she was coming again and again, clinging to her husband's muscular body as her orgasms broke over the head of his cock. She could feel him so deep he was at the neck of her womb. She wrapped her legs around his back.
'Oh Terry, Terry...' She managed to open her eyes and saw Stephanie watching, saw lust in her face too.
'You bitch!' he screamed driving into her as though the strokes of his cock should be a punishment instead of the ultimate pleasure.
Unconsciously Stephanie began to finger her own clitoris.
'Terry, Terry...' Jacqui had come enough. 'Save some for her. Don't you want to fuck her? I want to see it.'
'What?' he said not believing what he'd heard.
'Fuck her, Terry. I want to see you fuck her.'
He stopped his rhythm entirely and looked down at his wife's face as though he were looking into the face of a stranger.
'Have you gone mad?'
'Yes, yes. For God's sake Terry just do it for me.'
He looked over at Stephanie. His eyes went from her face down to her tits and over her navel until they rested on the fingers that had teased out her clitoris from the forest of pubic hair. He pulled his cock from Jacqui's cunt. It looked as angry as his face, red and glistening wet, his foreskin pulled right back, the little slit of his urethra leaking a tear of his own fluid. Once again lust won over anger. It was as though he had been plunged into a dream when he'd walked through that bedroom door after he'd listened in the corridor to the moans of pleasure. Plunged into a long wet dream of cunts and tits and unbridled lust.
Stephanie looked into his eyes. He stared back at her. She would see his confusion but most of all she saw the flames of desire.
'Are you going to fuck me? I need a cock as much as your wife did.'
Still on her knees, she turned away from him, pointed her tight sharp arse at him, then leaned forward supporting herself on her hands on all fours, her back straight, her hairy sex opening as she eased her knees apart. Swivelling her head over her shoulder, she looked back at him.
'Fuck me,' she said unnecessarily.
'Do it,' his wife urged.
That was too much for him. If he had any control it was gone now. He pulled away from his wife and sat up on his knees.
'I want to see it,' Jacqui said.
He needed no further encouragement. He twisted round on his knees and nudged his cock, already wet from his wife, into Stephanie's arse. It found the target immediately, plunging into Stephanie's sex so rapidly, it took her breath away. His cock felt like his body, hard and muscular and strong. She pushed her buttocks back at him as he pumped into her, matching his strokes with her own, feeling his navel on her arse.
'You bitch,' he said. Stephanie knew he meant her this time. Not that she cared. She didn't care about anything now. She was coming, the heat and urgency of his cock too extreme for her body to ignore. He reached forward and around her thigh until his hand covered the delta of black pubic hair and his finger found the wetness of her labia. With no gentleness at all he probed until his fingertip was on her clitoris. Then he began to wank it, hard and fast, like he was strumming the string of a guitar. Stephanie groaned but not with pain. He was making her come, everything he did was making her come.
Jacqui was not going to be passive. Squirming round on the ruffled sheets she positioned herself so that her head was between her husband's calves. Then she worked herself back until her face was up under his arse, until she could see, inches from her face, his balls banging against Stephanie's bottom as his cock pistoned forward. His balls were big, hairy and sensitive. She knew better than to kiss them yet. Instead she levered her head up off the bed to get her mouth on Stephanie's clitoris, sucking and licking her husband's fingers.
It was this double action that took Stephanie over the edge. The feeling of Jacqui's hot mouth and tongue working through to her clitoris while it was still being wanked - somewhere deep in her mind did she register the thrill that this was the first time Jacqui had ever done this - sucking and nibbling while Terry's fingers sawed away at it too, and his cock reamed into her cunt.
Stephanie screamed as she came. There was so much sensation, so much nerve-shattering feeling that she could not tell whether her orgasm broke over cock, or finger or mouth. It was as though she came in all three places at once, her whole body shuddering until she could feel nothing but black ecstasy.
Jacqui felt her come. Immediately she turned her attention to her husband. It was his turn now. She moved her head down to Terry's balls. At first she just licked them with her tongue, gently, carefully. He reached instantly with a moan but did not stop his rhythm. Slowly the licking turned to sucking. She closed her lips around one drawing it into her mouth. He moaned louder. At home it had been his favourite thing - to wank while she sucked on his balls. He'd knelt above her face. She'd suck at his balls and he'd wank until his hot sperm splattered over her magnificent breasts. They hadn't done that for years.
Now it was the same thing except he wasn't wanking, he was fucking, fucking another woman. He knew he couldn't hold back any longer. Only his anger had allowed him to go on for so long. Now he had to come. His wife, beneath him, was reeling his other ball into her mouth. When she had them both, she sucked gently like she used to do. It was enough. He looked down at the trembling woman in front of her, her long back, and sharp rounded arse and pushed one last time into her wet tight cunt. He buried his cock deep in the hot tunnel of Stephanie's sex and waited for the spasm that would jet spunk out into the dark cavern he had found. He felt his wife's tongue playing with his balls. It felt like her tongue was inside his cock, right inside it. His mind was full of images. But most of all he saw his wife's face lying on the bed when he'd come into the room as the black-haired temptress sucked at her cunt. He saw the look in her eyes as she told him to fuck her. He had never seen her so turned on. He had never felt her cunt so hot.
His cock spasmed. In his mind he saw his white hot spunk erupting into the slippery walls of Stephanie's grateful cunt. The spasms went on forever. He thought they were never going to stop. So much spunk.
No one wanted to move. They disentangled themselves slowly. Stephanie rolled on to her side, Terry on to his back and alongside his wife.
'My God...' he said finally.
'Don't be cross,' Jacqui said.
'How could I be cross now?'
'It was good, wasn't it?'
'What have we been missing?'
'Do you want me to go?' Stephanie asked.
'Of course not,' Jacqui said, touching Stephanie's arm affectionately.
'I didn't know you were into women,' Terry said.
'Neither did I.'
'We were experimenting,' Stephanie tried to explain. 'We were lying out in the sun and it just happened. Your wife is a very beautiful woman. And very sensual...'
'You're a lesbian?' Terry asked directly.
Stephanie laughed.
'If I were do you imagine I'd have let you fuck me? Do you think I'd have come like that?'
'No. No I suppose not.'
'Sex isn't a matter of labels. It's what feels good.'
'It felt wonderful,' Jacqui said, then turned to her husband. 'But it made me want cock. I don't think I've ever wanted cock more in my entire life. God I was hot, wasn't I?'
'Yes.'
'Are we going to get our sex life back, Terry?' Jacqui said, quietly pressing herself into her husband's body, one of her large breasts resting against his chest, its nipple still erect.
'I hope so,' he said kissing her on the cheek.
Terry got up off the bed. 'I need a drink,' he announced looking round the room.
'There's a bar set in the panelling over there. Next to the fridge,' Stephanie said pointing to the silk panelled door that concealed all the accoutrements of a bar.
Terry poured himself a brandy and soda. Knowing his wife's taste, he made her a gin and tonic. He got ice from the fridge.
'Do you want anything?' he asked Stephanie. Stephanie shook her head. Terry handed his wife her drink. She sipped it eagerly.
'Well,' Jacqui asked, 'what other surprises have you got in store for us?'
'Other surprises?' Terry echoed.
'Stephanie says there are all sorts of things in the castle we might want to get into.'
'What sort of things?'
'After dinner,' Stephanie said firmly.
'I can't wait,' Terry said.
'And is this all part of Devlin's weekend?' Jacqui asked.
'Only if you want it to be,' Stephanie replied.
'I think we do, don't we darling?' Jacqui turned to her husband who had sat himself on the edge of the bed.
'If you want a sensible answer you'll have to ask me again in a while. When I've come down. I'm still floating.' He let himself lie back on the bed, his glass balancing precariously in his hand.
'So what am I going to wear for dinner?' Jacqui asked. 'That's what I came in here to find out.'
'Oh yes, I forgot.' Stephanie smiled. So much had happened since Jacqui had knocked on her bedroom door. 'You can wear anything you like, as dressy as you like.'
'Great. I feel like getting dressed up to the nines.' Jacqui got up from the bed. Her heavy tits bounced firmly. Then she had another thought. 'Can you lend me a pair of stockings and something to hold them up with?'
She saw the look of surprise on her husband's face. 'Black preferably,' Jacqui said looking into her husband's eyes. 'And very sheer...'
She saw her husband's cock stir.
'I think we're going to go to our room now and have a little lie down before dinner. Don't you, darling?'
'What a good idea,' Terry said reaching for a towel to cover his growing enthusiasm.