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Sassy, irreverent and great fun, the two women were of an age, and not inconsiderable means, to pursue pleasure wherever it could be found. Their lives were now uncomplicated by the dragging, dutiful claims of husbands or lovers; the demands of casual acquaintances or those who continued to seek their company and have them feel obligated to their only too well-rehearsed ways.
Such men usually did so on their own terms. But Miranda and Imogen were no longer taken in by such wiles. They had chosen to set their own course in such matters; they sought to exercise control and not to be controlled.
The wheels of fortune had turned full circle, and they were now in control of what happened, even in or out of their beds. Love lives were pursued, enjoyed and then ended. They weren’t tramps or ‘wrinkly sluts’, as one man had railed at Miranda when she had summarily ended a tempestuous week in his company; the joys of snorkelling, swimming and sunbathing; and, while that relationship had endured, selfishly rutting in her exotic cabin close to the palm-fringed shores of a Maldives resort.
To have heard that from a Frenchman had been a bit rich; but she had taken it in her stride. Imogen had been her rock at such a time. She had drawn her own pleasure from the company of a man who had looked upon their liaisons through the same eyes as she had done. It was to be energetically pleasurable but of short duration. What happened several degrees of longitude away from home, and familiar surroundings, gave them freedom, and why not? They had lived one life; now they intended to live out quite another and enjoy themselves in the process. The rules of the game were for them to set, no one else.
The times shared had been fun and with no strings for the two of them; the holiday arrangements then, as now, only too purposeful if they met like-minded people…men. But you never could be sure of what might await you until the scales fell from your eyes about those you associated with. They each gave the other space to pursue, or to be pursued by, a man and if suitable ‘quarry’…as they often quipped…came into their sights. It was not unknown for them to glory in a ‘one for two’ arrangement if the object of their attention…their lust for him…meant that different rules applied.
Such a man, one Stephen Yardley, now sat at their table and between them, vying for their attention and sharing in a lively conversation that had begun when they had net at an impromptu beach volleyball event earlier in the day, their first in a Seychelles beach resort; the wooded promontories and golden sands of the bay as exotic as they had ever known, and enjoyed, in favoured trips to these parts of the world.
Exercise of that kind, leaving their tanned skins glistening with perspiration…not sweat… had seen them, and others in their informal group, racing off into the sea to cool off. Doing that did not settle agile minds and what they had seen could be discovered in each other. Young and svelte they might no longer be, but they each possessed grace, and only too lively imaginations; their sotto voce exchanges bordering on the flirtatious, each of them disconcerted that one man was only too interested in both of them.
This is a change, don’t you think? That was the thought to be read in the look that Miranda gave Imogen. She did so in disbelief, as Stephen leant back in his chair and sought to gain a waiter’s attention.
‘Excuse us for a moment, Stephen, would you?’ The directness of gaze on her travelling companion made it clear that she should follow her out into the warmth of the night air. ‘Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing, Imogen?’
Imogen put her hands on Miranda’s shoulders, glanced back at Stephen, then grinned at her.
‘Darling…I’m pinching myself and trying not to think that we may…and for a first time…have met someone who wants to fuck us both…sorry for the lingo, but it fits. He’s alone and he’s here. Stephen’s like no one else we’ve met on these little diversions of ours. He’s only too rich and yet he’s available. It won’t have escaped your notice, but we’ve already spent a great deal of time with him…the man with those wonderful hungry eyes. He’s had that look for us all evening…’
‘Yes, but…but…’ Miranda stammered, turning to look at him for an instant, ‘we’ve never been in the same room when we’re with our ‘quarry’…have we?’
‘No, and that’s what makes this so wonderfully new and special. I’m already taken by the novelty of the idea that he’s interested equally in both of us….which makes this all the more unreal…and rare…only too novel, in our case.’
Imogen looked at the man once more. Just talking about it with Miranda aroused the ache of longing and inflamed a sense of anticipation that an adventure lay before them.
‘Best of all…if that’s possible…we’ve seen today what he can bring to us…raging good looks even with that unshaven stubbly face…but his grey escort hair is neat and cut so well. His chest hair’s something new for both of us…and he’s in shape…lean and so very hungry…if those wonderful eyes of his on us are anything to go by…’
She wondered how it could be endured and for them not to succumb and so quickly. Stephen, she knew from a moments press of his leg to her thigh as they ate dinner, ached for them; a soft word, or a moment’s touch, enough to reveal what was at work in him. He seemed to be a man of deeds and not words; unbothered by convention; a man, they might yet discover, who shared their wild and reckless mood.
‘Stop…stop!’ Imogen laughed. ‘You’ve persuaded me!’
‘We’ll play it slow, for now, and see if he really can handle the two of us. Perhaps with our own brand of guidance, and undoubted enthusiasm, he will be able to. We have a week to get through, after all…so let’s not waste a minute of it.’
Imogen nodded; could not help but chuckle at Miranda’s calm appraisal of the situation they faced. She looked away and caught a fleeting glance from Stephen as someone on their table now sought to engage him in conversation. She too made no secret of having taken to the man.
Miranda clenched Imogen’s arm to draw her attention once more. ‘Best we get back to the table. First nights set the scene for all that follows on trips like these…’
‘Don’t I just know that!’ Imogen said bitterly. ‘I’m not going through that again…hook up with a waster.’
‘You won’t. We’ll be together with Stephen. Two into one will go…or is it one for two?’
Imogen liked her friend’s turn of phrase. ‘So, we’ll be winging it for a while and for the first time?’
‘Yes…perhaps he’ll take us to heaven and back while we’re about it…winging and swinging. I just hope he’s got the energy…he has the will…saw that in his beach shorts.’
Imogen suppressed giggly laughter. ‘You’re impossible!’
‘No…I’m just being just practical and know what I like.’ Miranda guided her friend back to their table and met Stephen’s welcoming smile and questioning look upon them.
Yes, it was focused on them both.
Stephen talked easily with the other guests seated at the table, but his mind soon wandered to the two women that had engaged him throughout their dinner, thus far. It was more than a coincidence that they had been seated on either side of him. He’d slipped the Maitre d’Hotel a note, of some generosity, to make sure that their company was to continue into the evening, after pre-dinner drinks on the terrace and as the heavens above revealed the glory of a truly magnificent night sky.
An exciting day had seen them frolicking on the beach and making it no secret of what they would all bring to whatever moments of shared fun that could be devised, if not seduced from them. His holiday here was not to be constrained by thoughts of anyone in his life back home in England. There was no one to have that hold upon him, and he was here to dip his wick and often.
The women he had met certainly occupied his thoughts now. The luxury of the rooms, the views, and fellow residents — they all made it clear that you had wealth behind you to be able to afford a stay here, be it inherited wealth or earned, as his had undoubtedly been.
He looked their way and saw them engaged in conversation. He surmised that he was the subject of their exchanges. The women were engaging and so very different.
One, Miranda, was a studiously managed beauty, her greying hair swept back from her softly lined face that lent some distinction and was enhanced by the glasses that she wore; her soft appraising eyes belying a keen spirit and a bubbly personality. As she had done, during the day, Miranda had tied her hair back into a bun; the knot fastened by a colourful jewelled grip. A necklace of large beads dangling onto her breastbone; the fabric of her dress a kaleidoscope of colours and the neckline finishing, enticingly, at the beginnings of her cleavage. Miranda already aroused a riot of emotions. He’d taken to wondering if her only too bubbly, even overdone, exuberance was a cover for an insecure woman.
Imogen, on the other hand was restrained. He had met a startled look his way, as the two women talked, her slender fingered hands brushing at auburn red hair that he took, in a woman of her age, to have been coloured to match what she had once been blessed with as a younger woman. Her appearance was only too well tended, bestowed by an obsessive exercise regime that leant her a reedy strength that made her wrap around dress, it too decorated in an exotic print of jungle blooms, clothe her body easily. Imogen’s soft voice held an almost narcotic power of its own.
So, he had been seated between a voluptuous woman, who was unashamed of how she was ageing, and another wishing to hold back the inexorable effects that the passing of the years bestowed upon her body. She did that by pursuing a punishing, almost daily, eskort exercise regime.
All this he had been told.
Each, in their own ways had engaged his attention, something in their behaviour during the day, and on first meeting them, revealing to him that their minds were open to fun times. How that was to play out when they were a threesome had yet to be thought through, but he was unfazed by the prospect. He hadn’t made his money while remaining reclusive.
Stephen Yardley worked damn hard and on holiday he cut loose. He’d drawn some comments on his choice of an Indian styled Kurta, a three-quarter length shirt and trousers; also on the leather thong sandals that accompanied them. But his deep tan, and carefully tended grey hair and stubble face had lent him a mysterious grace that served as the perfect disguise for a man who wanted to live it out, and quickly, and to do that with these two engaging women.
With age came experience…at fucking.
‘We could have a drink…or our coffee out on the terrace?’ Miranda suggested, boldly, as she neared the table. She had seen the faraway, almost wistful, look that Stephen had cast their way.
‘That’s a good idea,’ he smiled up at them and seeming to bring his thoughts back to the present. They stepped out into the cool evening air, Stephen choosing a table that offered them some privacy, but not so much that it would appear they were cutting themselves off from the others. ‘This is a new experience for me…’
‘And it is for us too,’ Imogen blurted out.
‘Two of us…to one of you, is what she means,’ Miranda said helpfully, and by way of an explanation.
Stephen called a studiously polite waiter over to them, one that they had ordered pre-dinner cocktails from. Coffee and sweetmeats would soon be with them. ‘Now, where were we?’
‘Two of us…one of you,’ Miranda smiled and holding his appraising glance upon her. ‘Have you ever been there, Stephen?’
‘Oh really, Miranda!’ Imogen whispered. ‘Not so direct!’
‘It’s okay,’ Stephen smiled. He crossed his legs to buy some time. ‘I’ve been there and done it…but the best was with two women on me. I was surprised both times…more so one woman and two men…but both were complicated…even hard work. But…’
‘But they were satisfying,’ Miranda prompted, ignoring Imogen’s sharp intake of breath at her forwardness in talking out the detail so soon. ‘Were they an ego trip for you..?’
The women saw him look away as the waiter came to them. ‘Put it on my room bill, please?’
‘Yes sir…’ the waiter said, ahead of them on this. Stephen scrawled out a signature and looked at them once more.
‘The best was me and two Asian women…when I worked in Singapore…a two week stay. I just fell into doing it that way and it’s not just to massage the male ego…far from it. ‘
‘Who did you play with?’ Imogen asked. Emboldened by how they had so easily fallen into these ways of talking out on a very private matter.
‘It was a young woman…and…and her beautiful mother.’
‘Oh my God…but that’s wild!’ Miranda couldn’t help but laugh out in gleeful enthusiasm. It offered a glimpse of the free spirit within the man before them. ‘Imogen and I thought to test you…to see how far we had to go to have you agree.’
Stephen laughed softly. ‘I read the signs, Miranda…and from you, Imogen. I have been here before…remember?’
The women looked at each other and reached an agreement.
Stephen cut in before either could say what was now so clearly on their minds.
‘It works because a man…a lover…he’s only got one pleasure centre and can only fully engage with one partner and not the other and at the same time…’ He looked at them both, now, in some embarrassment. ‘Is that too honest for you?’
‘Not at all…’ Miranda said, glancing Imogen’s way. ‘It’s a new moment for us both, though. Let that be said while we’re about this.’
‘I did wonder,’ Stephen replied on an appraising glance her way. He made no secret of doing that now. ‘I took to thinking that you have money…are settled in your ways…but that you might like to live it out and differently when you’re on holiday and in a place like this?’
It was Imogen’s turn to look embarrassed. ‘How can we talk so calmly about it…and be so mechanical, even orderly?’
Stephen looked back and forth between Miranda and Imogen; the one was open, the other restrained. He then continued. ‘A man, who really wants to do so, can provide pleasure simultaneously to two partners pretty easily, given the way his cock, fingers, and especially mouth can all bring pleasure pretty much independently. Although of course, two men on one really enthusiastic, compliant woman…’
‘Stop, Stephen…just stop!’ Miranda gasped and on a touch of her hand to his leg. She leant in to him and to confide. ‘We get the idea…would want to learn and share in it with you in the time we are here. Is that honest enough for you?’
Imogen could not keep eskort bayan from laughing out in disbelief. ‘If people could hear us now, talking about this!’ Imogen looked at Miranda, then at Stephen again. She obviously had something on her mind.
‘What is it Imogen?’ Stephen saw a moment’s doubt in her look upon him.
‘I assume you paid the women in Singapore…but I’m not doing that under this arrangement…if we…or I go through with it. What we share is consensual.’
Miranda looked at her attractive, stately, friend in startled amazement.
‘We never thought to have it go any other way, Imogen.’ Miranda then turned to Stephen. ‘Sorry…it feels so rude…as if we’re propositioning you.’
Stephen sought to charm them.
‘You really wouldn’t have to try too hard to attract someone…and, what worries you has never happened in that way, ladies…not even in Singapore. I met two women…just like I’m doing now, and we seemed to fall into those ways of it because there was an attraction to each other…nothing cold and ordered.’ He paused. ‘I’m rather hoping that it will be like that between us too?’ Stephen now sat back in his chair and sipped on his drink, seemingly lost in thought. ‘Quick…look…a shooting star!’
The women looked up for an instant then at each other once more. Both were now uncertain of what they had set out to experience and from all that Stephen’s confessions of past times had alerted them to. It all seemed only too ordered and deliberate. Imogen had thought it would be a pleasure to be wooed for a few hours more and not be seduced by Stephen’s easy charms.
‘Stephen, listen?’ Miranda began, but he simply smiled her into silence, stroked the skin of her arm as she sat beside him, just as she had done at dinner.
‘You want to think it over, I think? The more we talk the less spontaneous it all becomes. Is that it?’
The women met his stilled look upon each of them in turn.
They had talked for some time, but there remained a palpable sense of attraction…an attraction so keen between them…the enticing image of them moving on from what had been aroused in them during the day and over supper…the possibility of sharing the heat together…somehow and as three lovers…that Miranda and Imogen were not the least bit surprised when Stephen discreetly put a hand on their thighs and squeezed.
‘Let’s get away from here shall we…and see what happens? I’m in lodge five….’
‘We’re in lodge seven…and eight…so we’re close…’ Miranda confessed. She saw Imogen shrug her agreement to what might yet play out between them all. ‘Give us half an hour…Stephen?’
‘Not a moment longer…and…ring my lodge phone…and ask for ‘room service’,’ he said on a teasing smile.
‘How appropriate…you said it!’ The two women shrieked in laughter. ‘What are the choices other than fleshy frolics?’ Imogen added for good measure.
‘Wait and see. I’ll change out of this costume and come to you…and we then live it out a little differently.’
The women felt the brush of his fingers sweep over their thighs as he moved from his seat and left them without a backward glance. His quiet, understated certainty of what would follow unsettled them both and that their teasing exchanges had failed to allay.
Stephen picked up the bedside telephone after only two rings. He had been wondering which of the two women would be the one to call and take the evening onto his preferred trajectory. It would help to set a pattern for the rest of his stay in this holiday paradise.
Miranda had been the more purposeful of the two, but he had learnt over the years that the more reserved ones, or those women ‘playing it cool and long’, brought the greater pleasure. That made his thoughts turn to Imogen, the seemingly more restrained of the two women. She had confounded his thoughts about her by revealing a tattoo on her right breast, seen when they had all been frolicking on the beach; the strands of coral beads, that she had been seen wearing, a distraction from the sway of her breasts that even her modest bikini failed to arrest.
How the remainder of the night played out would soon reveal which of them would delight him more; also, if choices had to be made by all concerned.
‘Stephen….hello…it’s Miranda. We’ve reached a decision and it’s you and I who play first. So, I hope that you’ll soon be with me?’
He had heard the lightness in Miranda’s tone. ‘And Imogen…is she playing too? I’d like it better if the three of us played it all out…’
‘Oh yes, but she’ll be along later. We’d each prefer our time with you as a prelude to sharing…if that’s the way things play out. It can all change….and we’re in your hands.’
He heard her brittle and knowing laugh.
This is going to be a long night, he kept from saying. It was also a departure from what he had thought would happen, and a twist on what he had known of before. After all that they had said over dinner, and afterwards, it was too late to have a change of heart. ‘Very well…I’ll soon be with you. Don’t dress up…’
‘As if I’d do that for you,’ she laughed. ‘The door will be off the latch.’
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