Blondie
It seemed a lifetime ago, the weekend in Paris when she’d gone to witness a marriage made in Heaven. Or was it Hell? She wasn’t sure. Either way, it was hot. She’d been there at the beginning, or so it seemed. But she couldn’t be certain of anything when it came to those two, who’d generated so much heat between them they were bound to burn themselves up. Although not yet.
Ten years later, they’re still sizzling and living in France, and Wendy is still envious. Go, and be happy, she’d told Maya, but remember whom you leave shackled by love. She’d quoted Sappho more than once over the course of their brief erotic relationship. She’d felt so much power in those days. But with so much having either fallen away or fallen apart over the decade - the collapsed friendships, the misdirected career path, the love affairs that either ran out of steam or, worse, time, and now the fading beauty that comes with the loss of youth - she’s feeling powerless, alone, and invisible.
She sometimes thinks about her pillow talk with Maya, whose goal had been to achieve something larger than herself. She wonders why she’d never felt that same sense of purpose, why sex had loomed so large in her life, and why today she had a heart full of love but nowhere to put it. They were questions she didn’t want to ponder - as if it were too late. And yet, the questions were always on her mind.
She’s staring into the mirror behind the bar, thinking about her perceived invisibility, when she hears someone say her name.
“Wendy, darling, the couple over there wants to buy you a drink.” The bartender rolls his eyes as he picks up her empty glass. “You want another dirty martini to help you finish that club sandwich?”
She turns to see a businessman buried in his Blackberry; then looks across the way to locate the couple. They’re sitting against each other at the end of the bar. The man puts his forefinger to his temple and salutes her. He’s wearing a tuxedo. The red-haired woman is caressing the back of his neck. She nods at Wendy.
It’s two o’clock in the afternoon on a Friday. Tourists, Wendy thinks, still all dressed up from their first night on the town in the big city, looking for something in a neighborhood bar. She wonders what that is.
“Sure,” she says, smiling at the handsome twosome.
They were in their late 30’s, jewelers from Chicago combining a business trip with pleasure, and they were staying across town at the Plaza. They stay at Plaza hotels all over the world, they told her, after she moved to sit beside them. They engaged in a lively (and somewhat lascivious) conversation, taking Wendy out of her serious, introspective mood. After an hour, she had them figured out. And they must’ve figured her too, because when she mentioned her friends in France, they told her if she wanted to play and was a good enough bad girl, they’d take her to the Plaza in Paris with them sometime, and then they said they’d like to interview her right now, right here, in New York.
Wendy drank another martini before accepting their offer, getting into a cab with Betsy and Barry who invited her for a private cocktail at their hotel. She hadn’t ventured back to the Plaza in years.
Barry had the kind of body she liked, lean and mean. Betsy had a pretty face, but like Barry, she was a gym rat, which gave her a body that wasn’t soft enough. The way they liked to play was fun, though. And so, once she was sure they wouldn’t be abusive, Wendy joined the game.
Handcuffed to the bedpost for the next two nights and kept naked in their rooms during the day, she became, in effect, Betsy and Barry’s sex slave. But can a slut be a slave if she enjoys the role? They kept her clit swollen, her slit agape, kept her wanting, waiting, welcoming in a heart-pounding state of continual desire. She and Maya had talked about the idea of power plays but she’d never gone this far.
She’d followed Betsy and Barry up to their suite that first afternoon and let them both kiss her. Then she’d watched as Barry attached a velvet harness to his naked woman and led her around on a leash attached to a diamond dog collar. When he told Betsy to sit up and beg, she’d crouched in a way that made her glistening pink bits open up like a rose, reminding Wendy of something Maya had said about her own fleshy petals. It was a heady experience to witness Barry and Betsy, but the memory of her interlude with Maya and her man Luke is what made her so wet. Thus, when B and B asked if she’d like to stay overnight, she seemed to have no choice.
Except for the preview they’d offered, the first night with B and B gave Wendy no hint that she’d be so deeply drawn into their rolling, controlling love nest. By Saturday, she knew better. The couple’s roles would change with the phases of the moon - or so it seemed. It was a new moon on that first weekend when Barry had played the dom, keeping her and Betsy each on a leash. Betsy wore her diamond dog collar. Barry fashioned one for Wendy out of a rope of pearls that wrapped six times around her neck. The first direction he gave Betsy was to get on her knees and give Wendy a licking. After that, Betsy had leave to lick whenever she wanted. And it would be often because Betsy liked licking.
If Wendy would’ve had a choice, she would not have objected, because ever since that night with Maya, she liked it too. She preferred men, but there was something especially erotic about the soft, scented curves of a woman.
On Sunday morning, B and B ordered room service and when the tray was delivered, the women were in bed naked, except for their collars. Barry ushered the young waiter in, asking him to set the tray on the nightstand and pour the coffee. It was another scene reminding Wendy of that afternoon at the Plaza all those years ago when she and Maya had met Luke in the Oak Bar and then teased the waiter. It seemed as if the universe was trying to tell her it was time to reconnect.
After the couple checked out on Monday, Wendy went home and placed a call to France. She and Maya hadn’t talked in months, hadn’t seen each other in years, but time and distance would never diminish their friendship, nor their fondness and attraction for each other. Maya was home alone when Wendy called and said she was surprised and happy to hear from her.
“Oh, Blondie, I’ve missed you so much,” she said. She said her marriage to Luke was a good one and provided a sense of fulfillment; that he’d changed in some ways and so had she, and that besides Wendy, he was still her favorite fantasy. She said Luke now had a hand in the game of global economics, but they still shared a desire to engage in a different kind of exchange, that sexual power exchange she’d gotten a taste for back in New York. When Maya mentioned power exchange, their conversation moved to a different level and Wendy told her about her weekend with B and B.
“I’m envious,” Maya said. “Luke and I would like to play with you too. It’s so long since we’ve seen you, and I don’t know when we’ll next get back to the States. Why don’t you come here for a visit when we go up to Paris? Luke sits in on meetings with the IMF, and I enjoy the singing nuns at the Sacre Coeur in Montmartre. We’re finding good purpose in this life. Take a week off and meet us. Please.”
The line went quiet but Wendy could hear Maya breathing, and when she spoke again, her voice was trembling. “We’ll do all the dirty things you like done to you - we’ll even make you give us a golden shower if you beg. Remember how we begged each other that first night? It was exciting, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve just teased me by telling me about the excitement you felt with that new couple, Blondie. Come to Paris and we’ll make you our slave. We’re a couple of Devils, you know.” Her laugh was high-pitched, nervous. “We take the notion of power seriously.”
Wendy smiled at the mental image of Maya on her knees, panties soaked with cum, corset undone, breasts heaving with desire. It brought up a visceral memory of the desire she’d felt herself that night. There was something about first times that stayed with a girl forever. Now Maya’s invitation stoked the still smoldering fire of that memory, and Wendy was nearly delirious with delight. Nevertheless, she told Maya she’d have to think about a visit, that she’d need time to think about it. She was exerting a power play of her own.
When B and B came back, the moon was full and they said they were ready to howl. Refusing them wasn’t an option. Barry had wrapped and clasped the pearl collar in such a way that she couldn’t take it off without breaking it, and so she’d worn it the entire two weeks they were gone. The pearls, so cool around her neck and so smooth to the touch, had become a part of her, in a way. And even as they’d choked her, in a way, they served to remind her how vulnerable she was and how much she’d liked being controlled.
She met B and B at the bar at the Plaza on the evening of their return and then they went upstairs, to a smaller room this time. “We don’t need a lot of space if we aren’t going to get out of bed,” Betsy laughed. But when she leaned toward Wendy for a kiss, again it brought up thoughts of Luke and Maya, and although she was turned on by the games she played with B and B, it’s what was waiting for her in Paris that made Wendy wet. So how could she resist?
A week later, her nipples were a little sore and she was nursing the skin around her wrists and ankles where the chains had rubbed her, but she had the pearl choker off and in her jewelry box as a souvenir, and she was calling Maya back to schedule a visit.
There’s a song about Paris sizzling in the summer. Wendy found herself singing it while she packed her bags. She wasn’t traveling with Betsy and Barry, but she would be staying at the Plaza Athenee.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day when Maya and Luke had left for Maya’s conference in Paris all those years ago. It was their first trip together and when they got home, they made plans to move there. A year later, they did and Wendy had thrown them a bon voyage party, inviting all of their friends, including Maya’s ex and his new wife, who’d once wanted to engage Maya in a threesome but never had the pleasure. Now it would be her turn again.
“We’ll get a suite,” Maya had said. “You’ll have your own room, Luke and I will have ours, and when we’re not sharing our beds in a ménage a trois, we’ll share the living space in between. The Eiffel Tower suite is spectacular all lit up at night but a courtyard view will be quieter. Which do you prefer?”
Wendy had told her she couldn’t afford either one. “Don’t worry about money,” Maya said. “Luke says your money won’t be good here. We’ll be taking care of everything, including you, from the moment we escort you out of the airport, ma cherie.”
Her plane landed ahead of schedule, giving Wendy time to freshen up and get ready to meet the couple who would be her Parisian hosts. She found Maya waiting once she got through Customs. “So, you’re learning the language of love?” Wendy called as they ran toward each other, arms outstretched.
“Some things just come naturally,” Maya said. They embraced and they kissed, and then Luke put his arms around them both to walk out to the car. He ushered Wendy into the back seat of his Peugeot which, he was proud to say, was his favorite French car of the century so far.
“Did you drive up from the South,” Wendy asked, “from your mother’s place? Or rent it here?”
“We rented it here,” Maya said, as she slid in next to Wendy and took hold of her bare knee. “Put your cap on, Darling,” she said to Luke, “and take us down the Champs Elysees.”
“Oui, Madam,” Luke said. “I will take you girls to places you’ve never been before.”
Wendy had prepared for the reunion by getting naked under her dress and was pleased that Maya would find out so soon. They were just a kilometer out of Charles de Gaulle Airport when she began to run her fingers along Wendy’s thigh. “Keep going,” Wendy said. “Don’t stop until you reach the hole in the road.”
The road to Paris was busy with commuter traffic, and it was almost ten o’clock when Luke pulled up in front of the Plaza Athenee. The girls had behaved themselves after an initial tickle; now they both wanted breakfast to curb their appetites and prolong the mental foreplay.
Luke escorted them to the restaurant and had a coffee. But he couldn’t stay. “I’ll see you two lovelies later,” he said. He took Wendy’s hand off the table and leaned forward to kiss it. And then he stood up, taking Maya by the elbow, urging her to stand up too.
“My friend Christine runs the International Monetary Fund, which has opened some new doors. I’m monitoring a presentation at The World Bank today,” he said. “I’ll be a fly on the wall, doing some moral accounting.” He stopped to chuckle. “In another week, the world will be considering the moral boundaries that keep getting blurred in Rome. Maybe I can help cast away the church’s shadows.” He laughed again. “Oh, what would the leaders of the free world do if they didn’t have an occasional crisis to contend with?”
Then he turned to Maya, and after kissing each side of her face, he added, “I’m sure you have some catching up to do that doesn’t need to include me...at least, not yet. We’ll have plenty of time for that, starting when I get back this evening. Why don’t we meet when everything is blue here at LeBar? The Plaza Athenee is my favorite place to stay in all of Europe. There’s so much history. It offers something for everyone, and tradition is everywhere. I like tradition. And I like the ambiance of the Blue Hours, which creates a mood so different from the red lights they put on for the disco after midnight.”
He kissed Wendy’s hand again. “I hope you’ll feel comfortable sharing some time with us, and sharing the suite with us. My queen and I will do our best to entertain you,” he said before taking leave.
In fact, the women’s reunion turned out to be awkward at first. They spent most of the day in guarded conversation. Wendy was impressed that Maya had not seemed to age - her face and body looked as taut and toned as she’d remembered. But despite her aggressive words during their phone calls and Luke’s remark about ‘catching up,’ her demeanor seemed rather passive, as if she were one of the singing nuns at the Basilica she liked so much. She didn’t behave like that devilish character she’d promoted and had once been so confused about. Wendy found herself wondering about the aberrant thoughts that had propelled her to make this trip to Paris.
“I thought you said you were a couple of devils, spelled with a capital D?” she told Maya after a tentative first kiss, in front of the bathroom mirror. They stood beside each other in bras and panties, getting ready for the evening, applying their makeup.
“It was a long drive up from Languedoc yesterday, Blondie. We’re tired,” Maya said. But before Wendy could respond, she left to put her dress on. Wendy let it go and got dressed herself.
By seven o’clock, they were sitting in the tall chairs at the sculpted glass bar, waiting for Luke. “You said you guys were tired, but Luke didn’t act very tired this morning. And I was on an overnight, transatlantic flight,” Wendy teased, after drinking the last drop of her Cosmo. “So why is it that I’m not so tired?”
Maya raised her martini glass in a toast, and smiled at her. “Don’t worry. By the end of your visit to Paris, you will be exhausted.”
“Promises, promises.” Wendy smiled back.
It was almost an hour before Luke joined them. By then, Maya was getting aggressive again and Wendy was totally relaxed. Vodka will do that to a gal.
Luke arrived wearing a silk shirt and carrying a cat. The nine-tailed whip was in a leather case that he put down on the bar. He ordered a drink and then suggested they’d be more comfortable in the lounge, where the lights and the tables were lower and the seating provided a better level of intimacy.
Once they got settled, leather case on the table in front of them, Luke put his arm around his wife and said, “Maya and I still like to play games.”
“It’s what keeps us young and juicy,” Maya added. She drummed her fingers on the case, smiling up at Luke. The idea of being spanked with long strips of leather made Wendy feel juicy too.
Luke put his other arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. “Remember when we all met at the Oak Bar at the Plaza in New York? We had a drink and then we moved to a table and I was sitting between you two, just this this.”
“I remember,” Wendy said. “But your hands were not caressing our shoulders.” She peered around him to wink at Maya. “And there wasn’t a whip tantalizing us on the table.”
If she hadn’t met B and B, she wouldn’t have been so ready for L and M. But before the colors in the bar turned from blue to red, she was upstairs in their suite playing dress up with them. She’d brought her green kimono and a matching brassiere with cutouts for her nipples. But they had her take off both the bra and the robe and asked her to put on a crotchless teddy, complemented by a purple silk blindfold.
“This mask matches your coloring so much better than mine,” Maya said. Wendy remembered saying similar words to Maya the first night they’d played together back in New York. She’d put on Maya’s fur coat and did a dance wearing a strap-on dildo. She wasn’t in the dominant position this time.
“Plus it makes it more exciting if you don’t know what’s coming,” Maya was saying “...especially when Luke tickles you with the nine tails of the cat. Keep your eyes trained on Luke.” They had Wendy sitting in the club chair in front of the picture window looking out to the Eiffel Tower, her legs spread, her private bits pulsing and exposed all those stories above the street. Maya kneeled beside her, a pair of feathery wings strapped to her back. Luke stood above them wearing a leather codpiece.
Wendy reached out to him, wanting to release his exotic erection. Again, her thoughts drifted. This time, to her second night with Maya, when they’d been with Luke. She remembered being mesmerized by Luke’s big bronze cock. She was envious that Maya had that devil dick all to herself whenever she wanted.
“I know you like to watch, girlfriend, but I’m going to lower your blindfold now.” Maya whispered in her ear. Her breath was sweet, hot. Her angel wings lay across her shoulders. Wendy reached out and stroked the feathers, but Maya grabbed hold of her wrist and brought her arm over her head. “The feathers feel sexy, don’t they? You’ll get to touch my wings later. But first I’ll prepare you to be tickled by the tails,” she said, “and then Luke will tease you. He will tease you almost to death. And then we’ll both bring you back. You’ll love it...just like I love it when he teases the life out of me.”
Sex is cerebral, she knew. She listened to Maya’s words and her juices began to flow. Her legs, spread over the arms of the chair, tensed up as she arched her back. She wanted...needed...to be touched. And just as that thought emerged, she felt Maya’s fingers tap, tap, tapping her clitoral erection. Her fingers were cool. But Maya’s body was hot. Wendy could feel her heat radiating the air between them.
“You girls are beautiful.” Luke’s smooth, deep voice floated above them, as if carried by a cloud. Behind the blindfold, her eyes were watching the sound waves.
Now Maya’s tongue was flickering. And again, Wendy arched her back, thrusting her swollen organ into her mouth. Her entire body quivered, while Maya held onto her, tongue darting, lips nibbling, teeth sliding gently against her, fingers everywhere. Wendy was swooning in a state of desire she’d never allowed before. She let it take her. She let it take her three feet off the chair in a climaxing ecstasy.
Her sense of time and space was lost, even as she heard the other woman moaning. She knew that Luke was near. She could sense him. She could smell him too. Earlier she’d thought he was wearing a musk-scented cologne. Now she understood it was his natural scent. When Maya released her, she had a moment of relative calm, allowing her heart rate to slow down and her breathing to return to some semblance of normal. But soon enough, she was aware of Luke’s presence again, and then she felt him take hold of her knees, pushing her legs further apart. He didn’t have to hold her open. She was willing to expose every inch of herself to them - and to all of Paris below.
Now just as they’d promised, Luke began to tease her with those tails. It had smart at first, when she didn’t expect it. But there was a rhythm to it, and she began to anticipate the moment when the cold strips of leather would strike her. After each strike, one of them would put their tongue to her. It was easy enough to tell them apart. It wasn’t so easy to choose which mouth she preferred. But when she felt Luke’s erection up against her, she knew that would be her choice. He teased her with it, but then after a while, he retreated. And even as she stayed in that same vulnerable position, she kind of missed him.
It was odd the way her blindfold had not only masked her eyes, but her voice. Generally, she was vocal, but she was silent when she couldn’t see. And except for the whir and the slap of the whip and the sounds of their moans and their breathing, her partners had, for the most part, been silent too.
Until suddenly she heard Maya say, “You’re glistening, Blondie...and gaping. You’ve opened up like a rose. Even your pee hole is huge. You’re showing us...giving us...everything you’ve got.”
They’d talked about love and lust, and desire. They’d joked about heaven and hell, fantasized about demons and angels, played with power and control. And now here she was a captive, in a way, of this she-devil wearing feathered wings and her angel-voiced, devil-dick man. No wonder she couldn’t speak. It was thrilling beyond words.
“She’s such a lovely, glistening rose,” Luke said, as Maya’s gentle fingers again darted around her swollen sex. “Let her see. Let’s remove the mask and let her see,” he said.
Wendy wasn’t shackled; her hands were free. She heard Luke’s words and she reached up and pulled the blindfold off. He stood above her, glowing in all his glory.
“She’s yours,” Maya said to Luke. “I know she wants you. Give her your love. We play our games with love, with the intent to do no harm. Wendy knows that. If ever you were evil, Luke, you’ve since proven the morality of your goodness. Your actions today are all toward the positive. Even this game we’re playing is positive, despite all our talk and our toys.”
“Whatever I’ve given has been for the sake of giving itself. Like you once said, we live together, we react to one another, but even as we’re alone, we’re all in this together. We will stay in this together, my love. Now get back on your knees and I’ll get behind you,” he laughed, “and we’ll whip this little angel up until she sprays us with her love.”
And so she did.
When the final history of the universe is written, it will be clear that whatever the inhabitants are made of, they will sometimes confuse their moral boundaries. But whether or not the lines defining right and wrong are blurred, the virtues and vices that comprise one’s moral essence will accumulate a kind of universal credit if something of positive value is given - even if that something is sex.
THE END