101.
I was up first the next morning, although not until nine o'clock. I could happily have spent another couple of hours in bed again, but I knew that once Sophie got up the bathroom, and bedroom, were going to be occupied for ages.
And if I let her get up first I wasn't going to get much peace anyway, not with her buzzing around. To be honest, I didn't really want to watch her preparing herself for others to have her either.
So I had a quick shower, threw a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt on, and took off downstairs. I had thought about dressing smarter, for when Alex came, but I thought it would be obvious, and I preferred instead to project a cool persona that showed him I wasn't bothered or intimidated by his visit.
I made a coffee and some porridge, and waited.
Sophie took even longer than usual to get ready. I presumed she was pulling and plucking and tweezing every stray hair on her body. Moisturising, clipping, filing and painting. Although not applying too much make-up, still mindful of Alex's first ever piece of advice to her.
She'd said that Alex was picking her up at twelve, and she didn't come downstairs until it was gone a quarter to. I couldn't help thinking that she was trying to time it so that she wasn't downstairs waiting with me for too long.
Perhaps because she was uncomfortable about it, or perhaps because she was trying to make things easier for me. The longer I had to sit there, looking at her, all pristine and prepared, the harder it would be for me.
As it was, it was still impossible to avoid looking at her when she did finally appear, and imagine how those impeccably smooth legs were going to be wrapped around other men's bare backs, how other hands were going to run up and down them.
How her breasts, pushing against the bright yellow fabric of her dress, were going to be uncovered, by herself or by others, squeezed and caressed. And how her nipples were going to be kissed and sucked and, knowing now how much she liked it, pulled and twisted.
How hands were going to reach up past the hem of her short summer dress, past the tops of the stockings I just knew she was wearing, to rub the gusset of her panties, cup her, and then expose and enter her.
It was almost a relief when she suddenly said "He's here." I got up from the sofa and looked out of the window. Alex had pulled onto the drive, his back wheels still on the pavement. I haven't ever been much of a car buff, but I know what the three pronged trident on the grille of the dark grey saloon meant, and I had a fair idea of how much a Maserati cost.
I watched him as he got out of the car and walked towards the house. And I realised with a start that I needed to answer the door. Partly so that it didn't look as though I was skulking inside, and partly so that he didn't come in!
I hadn't thought about that part until then, but as soon as I thought he could actually end up inside the house I knew it wasn't happening.
"I'll get it," I said, before Sophie, who had gone to pick up her overnight bag, could react.
I reached the door, just as he knocked on it. It was a loud, firm rat-a-tat, just what I would expect from him. I opened it immediately and stepped square into the dorway, arms folded.
His face broke into a huge smile. All friendly bonhomie, like I was a long lost friend. "Steve!" he exclaimed, "I wasn't sure if you would be here or not... thought you might be off somewhere with Hannah." he added, almost conspiritorially, as if she was a secret that Sophie didn't know about.
Then he seemed to remember something, and corrected himself. "Oh, no, I hear it's Victoria these days." He looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "Interesting..."
I don't know why he had to put on this "all boys together" act. We weren't mates, and weren't ever likely to be, so I wasn't going to indulge in any nudge, nudge, wink, wink banter with him.
I ignored the comments about Victoria's name. "No," I replied, "I wanted to see Sophie off first. Make sure she was OK." I don't know why I added the last part. It just came out, but it suddenly seemed like it needed to be said. The implication being that it applied to the whole weekend.
Alex simply nodded and smiled. "Where is our girl?" He asked, peering over my shoulder.
I chose to ignore that too. "She's right here," I said, turning round to look over my shoulder myself, and then wondering where she actually was. How long did it take to pick up a bag? The sound of the toilet flushing upstairs answered that question. Sophie, nervous, and thinking that Alex and I were having a nice chat, had obviously decided that she needed one last quick pee.
"Very good," Alex said, "I've got a lot of people very keen to meet her. I've told them a lot about her."
I knew what he was doing, probing for a reaction. But my face remained impassive as I looked down at him from my slightly elevated position on the doorstep.
"Well you make sure she's alright," I said to him, and I felt my face hardening as I said it. "Anything happens, it's on you." I locked my eyes onto his. I wasn't going to be the first to blink.
Alex held his hands up. "Oh Steve, she'll be fine, I promise you. She's very precious to me too, you know. I guarantee you, my absolute word, that she will be very well looked after."
Then he smiled, "She's going to have a great time." And then he lowered his voice and came over all matey and conspiratorial again. "She's doing very well you know, very well. I've had glowing reports about her." And then he actually winked at me, and said "You've got a proper little star there." and he patted me on the arm.
At that moment there was a noise behind me and Sophie said "Sorry babe." as she tried to squeeze past me with her bag.
"Here's our girl!" Alex exclaimed. "Wow! You are going to be the belle of the ball."
Sophie giggled girlishly, and then paused to reach up on tiptoes and give me a peck on the cheek. "Thank you," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good time tonight, whatever you get up to."
Alex held out his hand for her bag and she handed it to him. He took it and shifted it to his other hand. And then he held out his hand again. This time for Sophie. She took it and stepped outside, away from me.
As she did so, Alex looked up at me and said "It should be a good weekend. Clients of mine, old friends, have renovated a hotel out in the sticks. They're opening it up as a boutique private hotel, but wanted to put the place through its paces before opening."
"Sounds lovely!" Sophie was impressed already.
"Come on then, better get on the road," Alex said to her. But as Sophie took the first step towards the powerful car on the drive, he hesitated, holding her back, and turned back to me and said, so that Sophie heard, "Thank you Steve, for letting me have this beautiful creature. I promise you I will take good care of her and deliver her back to you in one piece."
And with that he too turned to walk towards the car. He drew alongside Sophie in two strides, and, slipping his hand free of hers, ostentatiously placed it around her waist.
He clearly said something, as Sophie looked at him and laughed.
And then his hand, briefly, but deliberately, slipped lower to her bum and then lower, towards the hem of her dress. He made a play, as if he was going to grab it and, presumably, lift it up. Sophie laughed and shied away from him, before immediately returning to his side.
It looked as though he was joking about whether or not she was wearing stockings. Or panties.
I supposed he'd find out for sure soon enough.
I watched as he held the car door open for her. She didn't look at me once as she got in. Alex himself did look back, to give me a wink, and then he was in the car too.
Despite the slightly tinted windows, Sophie was visible in the passenger seat, making herself comfortable and talking to Alex. As the car fired up, the throaty roar of the engines echoing around the street, she glanced up at me, and immediately looked away again, back to Alex, and then I saw her smile, and then laugh.
And then the Maserati was reversing off the drive, and I watched as Sophie was drawn away from me, in someone else's car, to be taken off to I knew not what.
But the only images in my mind, the only thoughts, were of her body, naked, a sheen of sweat and a string of someone else's spunk upon her olive skin. And of her pussy, naked, wet, swollen after being used and used and used, by more than one man, by more than one woman.
And of her smiling and laughing about it all.
And I felt like a hole was opening up beneath me. The roar of the blood pounding in my ears was deafening. And all about me the sides of the world were closing in. And I wanted to cry out for her to come back. But it was too late. She was gone...
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and where will this lead to and lead us to?
