As the smug satisfaction ebbs through my body I wonder what the weekend ahead has in store for me? My stomach flips with excitement and anticipation, but I’m not sure I want to know. My sensible side rising within with a million “what if?” And “maybe?” Questions I don’t want to ask or know the answer to.... I suppress them in favour for imagining my darkest desires. Those I’ve not dared to share or admit, even to myself maybe.
“We’re nearlly there, not long now. Get some rest you’re going to need it” he says. I close my eyes but my mind won’t rest, nor the flutter in my tummy that radiates down between my legs and causes a shiver of anticipation up my spine.
I must doze off because the next thing I know I hear gravel crunching underneath us. We are driving slowly, the long driveway opening up ahead of us, teasing glimpses of stone and granduar. “We’re here?” I ask. He nods but says nothing. I sense his nerves, there’s tension in his jaw where before there was passion and lust. I reach across and place my hand on his thigh and gently squeeze it. It places his hand on top of mine and faces me. He relaxes and his tense jaw is replaced with a warm smile and kind eyes. Living eyes. He nods towards the bonnet of the car, prompting me to look ahead.
There, before us, is a large house, a stately looking place. Imposing and grand but a lack of signs and branding make me think this isn’t a hotel. There are other cars parked at the front, smart expensive cars that no doubt, belonging to smart expensive people. We pull up alongside. He’s up and out of the car like an excited kid at the beach. The bags are out of boot before I’ve shut the passenger door. Tentatively I walk towards him taking his wait hand. We say nothing and walk towards the stone steps that lead to the double doors that are open.
As we approach I hear voices, excitable, joyful and welcoming. We are greeted by a tall, beautiful lady. Maybe late twenties, long straight ash blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes. She’s dressed in black pencil skirt and a black silk blouse, seemingly demure until we near. The skirt has a split to high on the thigh and the blouse is open to the waist revealing the subtle hint of small pert breasts.
“Good afternoon, welcome to Sensual Seduction Events. May I take your name?” He squeezes my hand as he gives her our names. “Excellent.” She says “You are in the Monroe suite. Top of the stairs, turn right, third door on the left. We’ll take your bags up for you.” She hands us a glass of champagne as a man approaches from seemingly nowhere. He’s dressed is black evening trousers and shiny brogues. And nothing else. He’s musclely chest and arms are bronzed and the sight of him literally makes my mouth drop open and my eyes widen. He throws us a dazzling smile, perfect white teeth and dark brooding eyes. He picks up our bag which we’d placed at our side and as he turns away towards the sweeping stair case I see the tattoo in on his back. Colourful and large, abstract and snaking from the top of his right shoulder to his left hip. As he walks away his muscles in his back ripples and it’s as though the tattoo is alive. “That’s Pascal, anything you need, he can get it for you” says blondie. I down the last of my drink feeling the need to steady my nerves.
“And this is Monica”. A petite, brunette woman appears at my side and slips her hand in mine. Her hand is soft and cool in mine. it feels strange to hold a woman’s hand. She smiles at us, “let me show you round and introduce you” she says. “Nearly everyone is here. This way”.
I glance at my husband who looks bemused. I guess I’m looking a bit bewildered and he winks at me and laughs. I playfully give him a push on his tummy as I laugh too. “You, mister, have some explaining to do!” I’m being pulled along by Monica towards a door to our left. As we draw nearer the chatter volume rises and there are more people than I had first thought. The room opens up and there are probably forty or so people. Some in groups, others as couples. Mostly standing and chatting with glasses in their hands.
The room is bathed in sunlight and looks pretty dressed in creams and golds. “This is the drawing room. It’s a social area, there’s no plays here during the daytime. Nighttime, we’ll, you’ll see.” As we meander through the groups of people several make eye contact and say hello.
We move through to another adjoining room. It’s heavily draped and in the middle is a podium with a pole surrounded by four large round padded beds covered in cushions in sumptuous colours reminiscent of a Moroccan boudoir. My suspicions of where we were at were confirmed as she turned to us and said “this is the orgy room “.
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