Victoria Hetherington reached the side of the pool, pulled back her long brown hair, and hauled herself out of the water and onto the tiles that surrounded the pool. She stood, squeezed the water out of her hair and padding over to where her towel lay, looked back to where the wet footprints trailed back to the water’s edge.
Carl was a few metres from the edge and reached the side with a single powerful stroke which hardly disturbed the crystal clear water. Those wonderful shoulders flexed, and with a casual shrug he heaved himself on the side. He bounced effortlessly to his feet, his tanned torso shimmering with droplets of water as he stood and swept back the fair hair that she guiltily thought made him look like some Aryan God.
He had told her he had been shortlisted for the Olympic swimming team a few years back but had missed it through injury. She’d brushed that off as just the sort of thing men say to strange women in hotel bars, but now she half believed him, mesmerized by his broad shoulders and narrow waist. She had pictured that gorgeous body clad in the tiniest of shiny speedos. What was it they called them? Budgie smugglers? She remembered and she almost laughed out loud as she watched him approach and lowered her gaze to between his thighs. Parrot smugglers would be more apt! She realised that now as, with rising waves of lust, she watched Carl’s substantial penis swaying rhythmically side by side like some hypnotic pendulum with each step he took towards her
She pulled the towel up to her body and dried the bush of hair between her legs, feeling a sudden warm flush as she remembered only an hour earlier and the sudden exhilaration and feeling of freedom that had accompanied the shedding of their clothes in wild abandonment around the pool lounger. The wonderful sex on the lounger that had followed spontaneously had been urgent and wildly adventurous. That would cause some confusion in the morning she thought, the bent frame and suspiciously stained canvas seat would certainly cause some prurient speculation amongst the hotel’s pool maintenance team!
She raised the towel up her body as Carl reached her and he rubbed her down, almost too energetically, spending an unnecessarily long time and paying a deliciously rigorous attention to her breasts and nipples then working his way slowly downwards.
“Those bits are already dry!” She whispered, as the towel draped, trapped between them and his hand cupped the rough fabric between her legs.
“Not so sure of that!” He said mischievously, and soon had his doubts confirmed.
He wrapped the towel round her and dried her back, pressing into her so she could feel the length of him almost all the way up her stomach. He took his hands off the towel and it remained clamped between them as his hand kneaded her buttocks and his mouth sought hers.
Slowly the towel slipped down until it ludicrously hung draped on his erection and he leaned forward to suck hungrily on her breasts. Almost frantically her hands struggled to disengage the towel but he teasingly kept it pressed to her, pulling her into him with powerful arms and distracting her with little flicks of his tongue across her nipples.
She triumphantly pulled the towel free and his cock sprang back against her stomach with a gentle slap. She dropped slowly down to her knees, her eyes fixed on his face with a determined gaze of sheer hunger, her hand vainly trying to get a grip on his buttocks which felt like marble to her clawing fingers. He taunted her by frustratingly keeping just beyond reach. A finger nail raked his skin, then another and then more. Blood started to trickle down his skin and with a little moan, he attempted to escape, pulling his lacerated buttocks away from the relentless fingers and submitting finally to her impatient mouth.
In a dingy room, down a dingy corridor leading from a dingy metal staircase deep in the bowels of the hotel, Night Security Officer Fred Jones took another swig from his NYPD coffee mug and turned to his superior who lounged inelegantly in a battered old leather adjustable chair idly playing with the zoom toggle on his video surveillance control.
“What are they up to now Chief?” He asked impatiently.
“Blowjob.” Surveillance Engineer Harry Entwhistle replied with feigned ennui, fine tuning the zoom.
“God! that guy’s hung, I’m surprised there’s any water left in the pool!” He observed, laughing at his own wit.
“They never quite get it, do they Chief?” Fred chuckled from his chair at an altogether less interesting monitor.
“Empty pool late at night, low lighting; It’s a complete shag magnet! They honestly think we haven’t got video coverage of those areas?”
“And we’ve got the best! High resolution, low light, fast zoom lenses, and all recording to solid state drives through super fast connections!” Harry enthused, totally confusing Fred who only really understood that they had cameras.
“Shall I go and scare the crap out of them Chief?” Fred enquired.
“Nah, let them have their fun, nip up to Reception and see if we find out what rooms they’re staying in.” Harry had his instructions.
“What and miss the finale?” Fred moaned.
“You won’t miss it! We have to transfer it to a DVD, check it through, and give it to that twat Hardcastle in the morning.” The hotel manager was a stickler for rules and no favourite of his security team.
“Roger that!” Fred did a mock salute.
“I’ve no doubt he will!” Cackled Harry.
Harry was right. Carl and Victoria sat afterwards, backs to the cool tiled wall of the pool room and shared a cigarette. Victoria pulled her knickers up and pointed to the prominent NO SMOKING sign.
“We are bad!” she laughed
“And, hopefully, we’re going to be even worse!” Carl promised and passed her the cigarette as he pulled on his jeans.
They parted outside her room, kissed, and Carl, apologising
that he had business to attend to, disappeared down the corridor to his room. Victoria was too tired for anything but sleep, she sighed happily and let herself into her room. She showered and, with the towel wrapped tightly around her, re-enacted in her head Carl’s hands as he dried her and collapsed exhausted on the bed.
She had met Carl in the bar where totally against her better nature she had agreed to let him buy her a drink. He was charming, tall, stunningly good looking and from what she could tell from the bulges and ripples in his clothing shockingly, athletic. He had one of those hard to place subtle European accents and she’d assumed ‘home’, wherever that was, was probably the other side of the channel. She’d taken with a large pinch of salt the lines about being in town on business, separated from his wife, etc, etc. She was having a special break and was in the mood for a little fun.
Although he had never divulged his age she’d guessed a year or two either side of thirty. He seemed to have made a success of his life whatever the hell he did and wasn’t at all afraid to spend money. They’d had dinner and shared a bottle of wine and then, after sitting talking in the bar again until it closed, he’d told her about his missed Olympic opportunity and they’d wandered down to see the swimming pool. It was late, they’d had a few drinks and before she knew it they’d stripped off and with a brutal intensity that had taken her completely by surprise, had the best sex of her life. Watching him swim naked, the water refracting, magnifying and swirling tantalisingly over various parts of his body, whilst gliding through it herself, also naked and feeling its caress on her own body, was a feeling she would never forget.
They had another day together and then, back to normality for them. Carl back to wherever he came from, Victoria back to Sussex and her husband.
The Next Day.
They met, had breakfast together and then on his insistence they went shopping. Victoria had never known a man more attentive or attuned to her shopping impulses. He knew the right shops, the right designers, he listened, was helpfully critical when necessary and marvellously flattering and admiring when not. He knew her size just by looking although she admitted, blushing to herself, he had sampled a considerably more intimate knowledge of her body than any tape measure.
They chose underwear and although the bra and knickers set he’d so wanted her to try on was a little more revealing than she’d have picked herself, she had outrageously allowed him a quick peek into the changing room as she tried it on, much to his rather obvious delight. She had bought it and was planning to wear it for him tonight. They’d grabbed lunch, returned to the hotel and after a few drinks and a long exhausting session of absolutely wonderful sex, she had returned to her room to prepare herself for their final meal, and night together.
The envelope on the bed addressed to her from the Hotel Manager, Mr Hardcastle, was a surprise. He wished to have an urgent meeting about a matter of the utmost importance and requiring absolute discretion.
Curious and not a little nervous, she took the lift down to the reception and was politely ushered into his office by the receptionist.
“Ah, Mrs Hetherington. Please take a seat. How are you enjoying your stay in our establishment?” The Hotel Manager enquired.
Hardcastle was a short, pompous little man with a badly executed comb-over that succeeded only in emphasising his bald patch, a fussy, over-trimmed moustache and prissy little wire rimmed spectacles. He seemed to be rather full of himself this afternoon.
She took the proffered seat and with rising curiosity and some trepidation answered;
“Very much, thank you.”
“So, apparently, it would appear…” He said in an oddly knowing manner.
“We pride ourselves on the luxury, comfort and security of our facilities. You can relax in comfort knowing that you, and your valuables are completely secure. You are of course aware that we have in place some of the most sophisticated security systems currently available?”
“Oh course, but what does that have to do with me?” She couldn’t quite see yet where this was going.
Mr Hardcastle was starting to enjoy himself, dragging it out and keeping her guessing.
“Including, of course, state of the art video surveillance and…” He paused for dramatic effect.
“A rather luxurious swimming pool!”
The penny dropped with the sound of a manhole cover falling from a very high building.
“Fuck!” Victoria just couldn’t stop it from coming out.
“Precisely!” Hardcastle triumphantly exclaimed.
“Given the high profile nature of your husband’s occupation and of course in a slightly different sense Mr Schmitt’s, we feel it prudent to pass any evidence of, er, impropriety like this on to a higher authority. In the interests of National Security you understand?”
Hardcastle apparently had been doing some digging.
Victoria was baffled.
“What the fuck has it got to do with National Security, and who the fuck is Mr Schmitt?” She exploded desperate for information.
“Your husband works for the Government, Yes?”
“Well, Yes.”
“And is party to extremely sensitive information in that capacity?”
“WHAT?” He’s a fucking Civil Servant for Christ’s sake she thought. No one would trust him with keys to the vending machine
“He is, I understand, a rather senior Civil Servant, and Mr Schmitt, your, Carl…” He was almost sneering now.
“Is believed to have connections with some rather, er, unsavoury people, suspected of trading stolen sensitive information”
Victoria didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or just hit him. She realised that she knew all too little about her husband’s position, and had assumed his reluctance to talk about work was simply because it was too mundane to interest her. The thought that she had been seduced by Carl cynically to elicit information about her husband’s work horrified her. She immediately dismissed the notion. Neither of them had even mentioned her husband and they would never see each other again after tomorrow.
“For Christ’s sake we had sex in your sodding pool, very fucking good sex by the way, Oh, of course you probably know that! Did you enjoy the show by the way?”
Victoria knew damn well she had traded nothing but bodily fluids with Carl, and was getting seriously pissed off.
“Actually I did Mrs Hetherington.” Hardcastle’s infuriating smile was icy calm.
“Which is why I am inviting you to a rather special event tonight”
Victoria was stunned, what sort of shakedown was this? Did he want to watch them both at the pool again? Perhaps even join in? She was repulsed by the idea. Carl will tear his fucking head off, she thought.
“I wouldn’t piss in your swimming pool let alone have sex there…”
“Again” she added pathetically, conceding the obvious
“Not the swimming pool Mrs Hetherington.”
“A venue considerably more, comfortable…”
At last the annoying little man started to explain:
“We hold a members only, extremely select dining club here every couple of months. You and the implausibly endowed Mr Schmitt, sorry, Carl, are cordially invited”
“You’re inviting me to DINNER?” Victoria was incredulous.
“Indeed! You will enjoy the finest wines, impeccable service and the best food in London. In return you and Mr Sch…, Carl, will…”
Hardcastle paused, enjoying her discomfort and savouring the punchline.
“Provide the after dinner floor show.”
Victoria was completely caught by surprise. she had expected to be asked for money, possibly even sexual favours (God, he was older than her husband), but what the fuck?
“What exactly do you mean by floorshow?” She asked, although she had a horrible feeling she already knew the answer
“Maybe I can lend you a DVD that might refresh your memory?” He tapped a plastic case, with its incriminating silver disc, on his desk.
“And what if I don’t comply with this, you filthy bastard”
“Then this DVD, and of course Carl, you, your husband, and no doubt Carl’s wife will be held up to the closest scrutiny and copies will be circulated to various media groups. The recording is actually very good Mrs Hetherington. Very high definition, and, er, in quite, graphic detail. No doubt copies will find their way onto the internet. You will be quite famous Mrs Hetherington, and after all the enquiries are concluded, quite a catch for the chat shows and tabloids. If you comply on the other hand, then all the original recordings will be erased and you will leave with happy memories and this one remaining DVD. No-one else will be the wiser.”
“Dress code is of course formal, although in your case… Temporary!” He leered with a sick smile.
“We will enjoy seeing you at eight. Good evening Mrs Hetherington.”
Stunned, she took the lift to her room. It was 5.30 pm. Victoria had to find Carl.
He was in his room, sitting disconsolately on the end of the bed staring at the pattern on the carpet with his head in his hands.
“Carl?” He looked up with tears in his eyes.
“I’m sorry”
“For What?” She desperately needed to know
“Carl, look at me; are you a fucking spy?”
“I’m an accountant from Hamburg. I was never in the Olympic team,” His voice trailed off and he looked, like a small, frightened, although, she couldn’t help recalling, rather big for his age, boy.
He had seen Hardcastle just before she had, and had immediately rushed to her room to find her and warn her, mere minutes too late.
The Dinner.
They met in the reception just before eight, Carl had persuaded her to wear the new underwear after all and she had chosen a simple, but stylish black dress, high heels and hold up stockings that gripped her upper thighs tightly. He wore a smart black suit and tie.
Nervously and reluctantly they found the private dining room and quietly entered. It was larger than they expected it to be, and already almost full, and abuzz with a disconcerting hum of anticipation.
The room was luxuriously lit with groups and couples filling each of its fifty odd tables. In flagrant breach of the law and fire regulations, cigarette smoke left a drifting haze across them. A small lamp glowed dimly in the middle of each table giving each a warm glow of intimacy. The dining area formed a square doughnut shape round a slightly raised small square platform covered with a rug. The platform probably more innocently served as a dance floor at other times, but now ominously featured a small single bed draped with a rich red cover individually lit by an elaborate and ornate chandelier. The platform looked for all the world like a stage set, or boxing ring she reflected uncomfortably. With sheer terror it finally dawned on Victoria that this WAS happening, wasn’t some sort of sick joke, and they were probably either going to have to run, or actually go through with it. She realised she actually didn’t really know very much about Carl. Was it possible he thought she actually had access to secret information?
They were led to their table by a smartly dressed waiter who pulled out their chairs and ushered up the wine steward who brought a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
“Complements of the management.” He announced impassively. A menu was brought up to them and they were left alone.
Victoria’s stomach was a writhing knot of terror. They had been led almost the whole way across the room followed by numerous curious eyes. Did anyone know yet what they were there for? Carl looked no less ill at ease and despite his attempts to comfort her was noticeably trembling. He poured them both a glass of champagne and she downed hers in one.
They ordered two light meals which both of them really only picked at, but which both wished would last forever.
“Try to keep your eyes on me, ignore them.” He gripped her hand and gazed into her eyes.
Another complimentary bottle of champagne arrived and they both realised they had been drinking far too quickly, but filled their glasses nevertheless. They spoke quietly trying to reassure each other and failing dismally.
A microphone crackled on, the chandelier brightened and Hardcastle, ridiculously dressed like a circus ringmaster in a tailcoat, bow tie and top hat, stepped beaming onto the platform accompanied by a round of applause from the guests.
Victoria was very close to bursting into tears. The moment she had dreaded for the last few hours, was about to start.
“I’d like to welcome the latest hapless couple to fall foul of our excellent security cameras, only to return LIVE to perform their debauched acts for your delight and sexual gratification in our cosy little den of iniquity!” Hardcastle pompously announced, in a melodramatic voice.
Another round of applause and some laughter.
“In the interests of decency I will not use their real names, and also in the interests of decency I must ask you not to use any smartphones, cameras or recording devices.”
Several rather heavy looking gentlemen discretely made their presence felt on the peripheries of the room.
“And NOW, in the interest of INDECENCY, I welcome to the stage… TONIGHT’S ENTERTAINMENT!” His voice reached a crescendo
He beckoned to Victoria and Carl, who suddenly found themselves brightly lit in the beam of a spotlight.
A wild animal cheer broke out. And with tears welling in her eyes Victoria took Carl’s hand as he lifted her to her feet.
The walk to the stage picked out by that spotlight was the longest Victoria had ever taken, teetering slightly on her high heels as the champagne suddenly took effect; she felt like a Tudor queen being led to the block. As they reached Hardcastle, Carl stooped and held Victoria’s head, forcing her to look straight into his eyes. In a voice trembling with passion he tried to comfort her;
“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anybody. Together we can be strong. Forget there’s anybody else in the room. We can rise above this charade.”
With that, Hardcastle smiled, turned and strolled off the stage and they were left alone. For a moment all was serene. Then Hardcastle’s voice ethereally came through the speakers.
“I think it’s time for them to undress each other. Don’t you agree, diners?”
Another cheer.
Carl looked at Victoria.
“Undress me first. I will shield you as best I can.” He whispered
Slowly, painfully aware of the cheer that met the removal of each item of clothing she stripped Carl. With only his boxer shorts left she hesitated and he lowered his head and nodded with resignation.
“Do it.” He ordered and she cringed
She slid his boxer shorts down to his feet, dropped to her knees and, as he lifted each foot out, gently slid them away from him.
As a cacophony of catcalls, wolf whistles, whoops and theatrical gasps broke out around the room, she pressed her body to his and shielded him from their gaze. He was trembling with humiliation as his once proud penis pressed pitifully against her, a warm fleshy tube, scared and needing protection.
Victoria looked at him and nodded, anger fuelling a new sense of power. She threw aside her reserved suburban housewife persona and stood proudly defiant.
Carl reached behind her back and slowly lowered the zip of her dress. Apologetically looking into her eyes he pulled each strap off her shoulders and, with a determined shrug, she let the dress fall to the floor. She took a step back and with a look of strength and resolve, quickly stripped off her bra. Her breasts burst from their confinement, the nipples stiffening and pointing invitingly at his naked body. She knew that now she wanted his cock to stand proud too. Yes! She wanted his cock, and yes, she wanted it deep in her cunt, and screw these sick wankers!
She turned and faced her tormentors with only the tiny knickers stretched tight across her pubic mound, her nipples standing proud and her legs spread. She backed onto him to protect his dignity and instead offered them her own.
A lone voice shouted out. Throwing into disarray her new found confidence.
“Thrash her!”
Unable to make it out at first she looked around confused, but the lone voice turned into two, then four and soon the chorus of voices overwhelmed her and she felt a completely new dread.
“Thrash her! THRASH HER!”
A steady, low whirring sound could now be heard and it was with total bewilderment that Carl and Victoria noticed the thin silver cable lowering from the ceiling, ending in a large hook around which was a rope attached to two leather bracelets. It stopped at waist level and the unseen Hardcastle’s voice boomed over the speakers
“Place her wrists in the bracelets, and don’t forget to fasten securely!”
An expectant titter wafted across the room.
Confused, Carl obeyed the instructions and the whirring renewed. With terror in her eyes Victoria found her arms hoisted higher and higher above her head until it was all she could do to keep her high heels on the floor. She tried desperately to keep her balance and slowly rotated around, floundering.
“I do believe I see items of clothing left!” Came Hardcastle’s voice with fake incredulity.
“Please be so kind as to remove them.”
With reluctance and abject humility in his eyes Carl slid Victoria’s knickers to the floor, rolled her stockings to just above her heels and stood back begging forgiveness from her eyes.
Suddenly a blinding light flooded the platform from hidden banks of spotlights and in the stark revealing light her nakedness and vulnerability became completely exposed.
The chant of “Thrash her!” restarted and swelled until suddenly something landed out of the now much deeper shadows to land on the bed with a dull thwack.
“Be so kind as to pick it up.” The voice from the speakers ordered, and Carl, shielding his eyes from the unforgiving light, obeyed.
Victoria rotated unsteadily and her eyes followed Carl’s to the short glossy, black leather strap that he picked up. A couple of inches longer than a school ruler and slightly wider but with a stiffness that implied considerable thickness it filled her with a horrible feeling of dread. Her knees buckled with total terror and disbelief as he walked uncertainly towards her, and she realised with horror what was about to happen.
Their eyes met and his pleaded with hers to forgive him. He swung her around and with her back to him she flinched as the cold leather stroked her buttocks.
“Shall we say six strokes?” Hardcastle’s voice asked the audience.
Victoria hung her head, broken with fear as cries of “MORE!” echoed round the room and Hardcastle appeared for an interminable time to consider the idea.
“No, I think six is sufficient for her to learn her lesson. But let’s have the very best six please, we will all know if you hold back!”
The diners confirmed this
Carl looked sorrowfully at Victoria’s bottom, leaned forward and whispered in her ear
“I’m so sorry, please forgive me and try to be brave”
With that, and not wishing to prolong her torment, he stepped back, and with a vicious hiss the black strap thwacked agonisingly into her trembling buttocks.
She screamed and a satisfied whoop arose from the audience.
Any preconceived idea she might have harboured that she could weather this immediately evaporated. Tears streamed down her cheeks and sweat ran in thin rivulets down between her breasts to end up threading through her pubic hair and… Christ! She realised she was getting wet? Hanging there gently swinging, broken and humiliated, a strange sensual pleasure was slowly surging up her body. She raised her head as a totally remorseful Carl kneeled and kissed on the burning red stripe that had flared so painfully behind her.
As he stood she turned her head and blinking away the tears, said in a defiant voice.
“Fuck them, just do it. Let’s make this OUR night, not theirs!”
“Try to clench your buttocks and stay strong.” Carl advised, strengthened and immensely proud of her new resolve.
Carl laid the strap across her again, she moaned but remained defiant, staring out into the room, her muscles clenching with anticipation of the next stroke.
Carl continued the strokes with a predictable rhythm that gave her a chance to prepare herself for the stinging pain that burned across her bottom in scalding waves. She was strong again now, the sensual surges almost balancing the painful ones. With the last stroke about to fall Carl paused in mid air as Hardcastle’s voice interrupted. The crowd had gone quiet, powerless to goad the couple anymore.
“Well done, most enjoyable. Regrettably only one more to go. Let’s make it count shall we?”
Chants of “Make it count!” swelled up around the room as the diners found their voice again and Carl desperately looked for any remaining patches of skin left unmarked on Victoria’s glowing bottom. Finding none he cursed and with just enough extra effort to satisfy the jackals he brought the strap down with a crack like a pistol shot that made her cry out as a dark red welt rose on her already ridged and tortured skin.
Carl dropped the strap and stood dismayed, his penis limp with shame, as she hung slowly turning, the lights giving everyone in the room a chance to savour the sight of her burning, cruelly striped buttocks. Carl looked up as the whirring noise returned and as her wrists came within reach he released her and, pausing only to pick up the strap and angrily hurl it into the darkness, he took her in his arms whilst she hung from his neck like a limp doll.
The sound of breaking glass and a curse from where the strap had landed afforded him some satisfaction as his hands tried to soothe her ravaged buttocks with feather soft strokes.
She sighed and with a sudden forcefulness he wasn’t expecting dropped to her knees and with aching hands, grabbed his cock with a vice like grip and with long, slow, vital strokes gradually returned it to its towering magnificence.
Like a starving animal she plunged down on it and engulfed it with her mouth, whilst her tongue tormented him and saliva ran in rivers down the rest of his shaft and glistened on his tangle of pubic hair. His stomach and thigh muscles tensed and strained as he struggled to complement her desperate, frantic bobbing and, close to climax, he pushed her away and carried her to the bed.
Carl pulled off her heels and stockings and she threw herself back and wriggled her hips forward to the edge. With shoulders pressed tight against the bed Victoria’s stomach arched and she lifted her vulva towards him. With a flagrant disregard for the sharp brilliant light that so clearly exposed every detail, she spread her legs wide apart and offered herself to him. She smiled, indicating with her eyes exactly what she wanted him to do with the glistening wet pink genitalia now so deliciously revealed.
She was wanton, depraved and with a hunger she had never experienced before, she wrenched his head into the warm, wet mass of delicate raw flesh and aching nerve endings that were so swollen with need.
Just as he approached imminent suffocation he found himself suddenly pushed away and a series of seismic judders rocked the bed which moved several centimetres backwards. Her legs clamped together and as the cry that had only just echoed back from the corner of the room died, she smiled and beckoned him to enter her.
“Fuck me Carl, just bloody fuck me!” She shouted in a voice that took command of him and the rest of the room.
The few timid handclaps that quickly died out reminded them that they were still being observed but by now she told herself she didn’t give a shit. She was alive, had the most glorious cock in the world in both hands aimed straight at her cunt, and was having the time of her life.
She recovered quickly and pulled him into her, guiding him inside. He entered her, filled her, and as he pulled back she thrust forward desperate not to lose a single inch of him, His thrust quickened and she echoed him stroke for stroke until with the cry of a mortally injured animal he exploded inside her. She screamed with a cry that rattled the chandelier above them and a rolling wave of uncontrollable spasms vibrated the bed.
Finally spent, they rolled apart.
Hardcastle in his familiarly smutty manner announced:
“The evening has, it appears, come to a climax!” The room erupted into wild applause, cheers and to both Victoria and Carl’s surprise, a standing ovation!
Exhausted and floating in their own private world, they smiled back despite themselves. The bright lights were killed and the room returned to its earlier infinitely more subtle atmosphere.
They lay entangled in each other’s limbs. They were both now drained, and she was euphorically happy. Only the warm trickles still running down her thighs and puddling on the crumpled bed cover remained as evidence of the sheer animal coupling that had occurred so shortly before. They were sticky with each other’s intimate juices and completely sated.
Carl rose, wrapped her in the bed cover and so shielded she wriggled into her underwear and then her dress, picked up her heels and handed him his boxer shorts, but not before giving his cock an affectionate squeeze. They dressed and returned to their table where another bottle of champagne stood with fresh glasses.
The Next Morning.
She left his room early in the morning. The writhing, uninhibited whore of the night before had now reverted to the quiet suburban housewife. After pausing to take one last look at his sleeping naked body she planted a fond kiss on the tip of his soft penis and crept back to her room, showered and packed.
Exiting the lift she crossed to the reception where Hardcastle was standing waiting for her nervously.
“I do hope you enjoyed your stay.” He said in a subdued voice, quietly sliding a DVD filled envelope over to her. She eyed him stonily, picked it up and then took him completely by surprise by breaking into a warm happy smile and replying;
“Thank you, I had an absolutely wonderful time!”
With that she had turned and, with a jaunty spring to her step, left though the revolving doors with the hotel porter struggling behind in her wake. She stopped for a moment to smile fondly up to the window of Carl’s room and stepped into the waiting taxi.
“That’s her!” One of the figures in the cigarette end littered doorway opposite excitedly nudged his companion, who was taking a long drag on his smoke.
“Put on the best show ever according to Frederico, the wine steward.”
“Recorded?” Fred asked hopefully.
“Nah, bloody system error killed the cameras and would you believe it, wiped the swimming pool stuff too.” Replied Harry with annoyance
“We still got the DVD?” A thoroughly disappointed Fred whined hopefully.
“Fucking Hardcastle took the only copy.” Harry spat in disgust and they tossed their cigarette ends to the kerb and crossed the road to the staff entrance.
James Hetherington was waiting at Charing Cross station as Victoria climbed from the taxi. He kissed her and picking up her bag, escorted her to the platform where they climbed into a first class carriage. Noticing her far-away dreamy expression he asked smiling;
“Have a good time love?”
“Fantastic,” She beamed warmly and gripped his hand affectionately
Victoria searched her husband’s eyes and with a intense seriousness started to ask the question that had been puzzling her since last night;
“Thank you so much for doing all that for me, but how on earth did you know?”
He looked a little guilty, but he did owe her an explanation.
“Chrissie!” He answered, a huge grin spreading across his face.
“That little bitch, I should have guessed!” She exploded with laughter
Chrissie was her closest friend from student days. One weekend, years ago when she had rowed with James they had holed up in Chrissie’s flat, smoked pot and over a bottle of wine had shared with each other all their deepest and darkest fantasies. They had been so completely honest with each other that neither had mentioned it since.
“We tried not to make it too obvious, did you suspect?”
“Not really until later in the dinner and by then I was so into it I just wanted to follow it through” She blushed, deeply embarrassed by the confession.
She hesitated and shyly asked, wriggling slightly in her seat;
“Who’s idea was the strap? I don’t even remember telling Chrissie about that one!”
“Carl! He felt he was really getting to know you.”
“Bastard!” She laughed, quietly delighted.
But inside her stomach still churned madly when she thought of him.
“Was he real?” She asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer
“Largely!” James smirked, and they both collapsed into a fit of giggles and Victoria went bright scarlet
“But seriously,” He continued;
“Carl was an absolute gent, he had serious concerns that you might get hurt and when he spoke to me on the night after the swimming pool he wanted to confess everything and just enjoy the next day with you naturally. He’s very fond of you.”
She kissed him and whispered;
“Thank you so much darling. It was a wonderful birthday!”
Victoria then added wickedly;
“It’s also Chrissie’s fiftieth soon – just wait until you hear her fantasies!”