A duet

Emily fell asleep in the early hours of Friday morning. My guests departed and I climbed into the bed, beside her, to get some sleep.

I was woken, around eleven o'clock, by Emily's hand stroking my chest. She was smiling.

"I thought you'd never wake up," she said.

It took me a moment to remember where I was. "Oh hello. You still here?" I said blinking.

"Oh course I am," she said, "did you think you were going to get rid of me that easily? Anyway, I badly need a coffee and I am hungry." I burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"You're feisty," I said, "how did you enjoy your evening?"

"It was wild and intense," she said, with a smile,"I'm pretty sore now though. Can we go eat?"

I was surprised at the way she had taken things in  her stride. I had expected at least some tears of regret, if not a delightful flood. It crossed my mind that her attitude might be a clever ruse to escape my clutches and cry rape. But she had no need to escape. The door wasn't locked. She could have gone any time. 

After a quick visit to the wet room, to clean up, we went out, into the sun, and found a café in Old Compton Street. Over coffee and croissants Emily told me some things about herself that I had never heard from Kim or John. She told me that she had only been at the posh boarding school for a few years. She was sent because she kept getting into trouble at the regular state school. 

Despite being exceptionally bright, or perhaps because of it, she was labelled as disruptive. It was Kim who decided to send Emily to boarding school, in the hope that they could harness her cleverness and get her into a good university. John was, apparently, opposed to the idea. But Kim, who wasn't working, went back to work as a district nurse, to pay for the school fees. 

I feel the need to say that I have no idea whether any of this is true. Why would she lie, you might ask? Well, being a world-class liar myself I have a certain intuition about these things. There was just something about Emily's attitude, voice and body language that hinted that she might be an accomplished liar. I began to wonder what use I might make of her, if my intuition was correct.

***

A call on my mobile telephone interrupted my reverie. I was stunned to hear the voice of one of my guests from the previous night.

"How's the girl?" he asked

"Remarkably good," I said, "we are just having some breakfast."

"She's cute," he said.

"Sounds like you are smitten," I said. Emily was making who-is-it gestures.

"I just wanted to make sure she's all right," he said.

"This doesn't sound like you," I said, "and anyway, you hardly had a deep and meaningful conversation with her."

"I like her, okay!" he said.

"Then you might as well ask her yourself," I said, handing the telephone to Emily. 

The funniest part of the conversation was hearing Emily asking him to describe himself, so she could work out which one he was. And well she played him, pretending not to recognise his description and asking questions like, "were you the one that couldn't manage a second time?" and "so you weren't the very, very big one then?" When the conversation ended, Emily handed me back the mobile and announced that she had to leave.

"Got a date?" I asked.

"Maybe," she said with a grin. "Can I see you again?"

"Most definitely," I said.

And so she left, leaving a trail of turned heads, as she went. 

I finished my coffee and called Kim, to tell her I would be over that evening. I expected her to be dressed appropriately, I told her. The opportunity of have mother and daughter in the same day was just too good to pass up.

***

On Friday evening, I had John drive us to a dogging site. I told John to sit inside the car while I had Kim over the bonnet of the car, watched by a group that included a number of slutty looking women.

"Who's the guy in the car?" asked one of them.

"The husband," I said, "he's a wimp." And that's just how John looked, small and timid, his body language inviting the tapping on the windows to the sound of catcalls. The women were the worst.

A black guy made his was through the crowd, looked at me, and said, "may I?"

"Of course," I said, pulling out of Kim. "It's okay," I whispered into Kim's ear, "he's a friend. He's safe." Although she didn't know it was going to happen this particular evening, Kim and I had discussed this particular scenario, so it didn't come as a total surprise to find someone else taking a turn.

And part of what I told her was true. He was a indeed 'a friend'. I wasn't the only one who found the idea of having mother and daughter on the same day to be irresistible. But safe? Well I guess it depends on what one means by safe. Perhaps disease free would have been more accurate description.

John started to move and fidget  inside the car. Although this scenario played to his fantasies, he was finding the reality tough to take. I climbed into the car alongside him, to prevent him getting out and making a fuss. 

"I'm going to stop this," said John.

"Isn't it what you wanted?" I said. "You told me that you wanted to see your wife used like a cheap slut."

"Yeah, well, maybe but now I've seen it, I don't like it much," said John, his hand reaching towards the door handle.

I gripped his wrist tightly. "Don't do it, John," I said. "You'll get hurt."

"I'm already hurt," said John, his eyes a little moist.

I twisted his wrist hard. "I am giving you a friendly warning John. If you get out of the car, you will get hurt." He hesitated, sat back and sobbed quietly.

After my friend was finished, an ashen-faced John drove us home. I decided to stay the night. Neither Michael nor Emily were home but then one cannot have everything.

Clubbing

The club where I arranged to meet Emily is owned by The Dancing Queens. One of them has a famous fashion business and is a very wealthy masochist. The other, when I met him, was in a boring job and a boring marriage, pretending he was straight. He has a strong sadistic streak but likes to switch when he encounters someone dominant enough, such as me. I met them through separate adventures and introduced them, as they seemed perfectly matched. This was not, of course, an act of altruism. I was simply banking a lot of good will, to call on some time in the future. The two of them have now been couple for nearly four years and recently did the civil ceremony thing.

Given their private predilections, their dance club has some unique and unusual features, known only to the most trusted friends. In the basement are four adjoining rooms. The first is a handsome bedroom, kitted out in the manner one might expect for a wealthy gay couple. The second room is a completely tiled wet room. The third room is a soundproofed  S&M playroom with a mind-boggling range of toys and equipment. These three rooms are arranged in a triangle and all are equipped with hidden, state-of-the-art audio and video recording equipment.

The fourth room is a "viewing gallery" in the centre of the triangle. On each side of its triangular shape are large two-way mirrors that provide a full view into each of the other rooms. It is furnished with a number of comfortable black leather armchairs and one sofa. The fourth room was my idea and only a handful of people know that it exists.

There is one last, very secret, space and is not a room as such. It is a five foot square space under the floor, with a solid steel trap-door. The door has small hatch for passing things in and out. It has a very bright light that is operated from the outside. When it is switched off,  it is totally dark inside. This was also my idea.

***

Emily and her two friends arrived at the club around ten o'clock. Emily was clearly the leader of the group. The two friends had both gone blonde and wore short skirts, high heels, skimpy tops and lots of make-up. Anyone who has been out in the West-End of London, late at night, will be familiar with this look, favoured by suburban girls of their age, who come up to town to go clubbing. Emily's outfit marked her out from the other two. She was wearing tiny gold lurex shorts, matching gold, ballet-style pumps and a skin-tight, green, sleeveless top. She wore minimal make-up, except around her eyes, and her skin radiated a healthy glow. All three girls had clearly had a few drinks and the friends were in a nervous, giggly mood. Emily was confident and bold, making a point of touching me on the arm or hand, in view of the others, every time she spoke to me.

The two friends were keen to dance and go celebrity spotting. I gave Emily a "privileged guest card" that allowed them to get free drinks from the bar. I also told them that if they needed something other than alcohol to keep them going then that could be arranged. The friends looked to Emily for leadership. She opened the palm of her hand and confidently said, "yes please." 

Into her hand I dropped three smiley faces. "Let's go," she said, popping one into her mouth and giving the others one each. And off they all went, onto the dance floor. I sat down in a private area that overlooked the dance floor and chatted to some other guests that I had invited but that the girls had not seen. Emily disappeared into the heaving mass of bodies with her friends. A while later she appeared, dancing alone, seemingly absorbed in herself, close to where I sat. After she had been dancing for some time, apparently oblivious to eager suitors of both genders, she came and sat down next to me, her skin damp with sweat.

"I thought you might come and dance with me," she said.

"Not my type of dancing," I said.

"What sort of dancing do you like then?" she asked.

"I like dancing in private with a few selected friends," I said.

"Shame there is nowhere private here then. I would love to dance with you," she said putting her hand on my thigh.

"Oh but there is," I said, "but as I said before, I like to dance with friends and I think those dance moves would be too advanced for someone of your age and experience."

"You calling me a coward?" said Emily boldly.

"I'm being realistic," I said, "and stopping you from doing something you might regret."

"You don't know me. I don't believe in regrets," she said, "try me."

"I don't think so. You wouldn't be able to handle it" I said.

She moved her hand up my thigh, finding my cock, as she leaned across and pushed her tongue deep into my mouth.

"Try me," she said, emphatically.

"You will probably need this," I said, opening my palm. She took the smiley face and popped it into her mouth.

I lead Emily towards the three rooms. My urge to take her pristine, elastic skin into S&M room was very strong. Given my usual impulsiveness, I am, with hindsight, surprised and impressed that I resisted. I stuck to he original plan and. instead, took Emily into the well-appointed bedroom. My three other guests were already waiting inside. Emily's mouth dropped open momentarily,  in shock, as she registered the situation. But she quickly recovered her bravado, emboldened by the second dose of chemicals, intermingling with the alcohol.

"I told you that I like dancing with a few friends," I said, "you can back out now if you want." 

She responded by kneeling down and unzipping my flies. Ah the folly of youth!

As I started to take her for the first time, she muttered, "condoms," hardly audibly, as her mind descended into the haze of drink and drugs.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," I lied.

"Okay," she whispered, as if speaking to herself, her eyes struggling to stay open.

And so, me and my three black guests took turns, keeping it going through the night. 

Sound and vision

I have arranged to meet Emily, and hopefully a few of her girlfriends, tomorrow night. Two of my subjects own a very exclusive club in London's West End. Even on a Thursday, as the time gets towards eleven o'clock, the queue for normal people goes around the block. Genuine celebrities and 'close personal friends' can, however, enter through the back door and they also have the use of some exclusive facilities. I introduced the owners to each other, in one of my uncharacteristically benign moments, so I officially fall into the 'friend' category.

It is probably worth a quick diversion to say that some subjects, like John and Kim are active and 'in play'. Others have been active subjects at some point in time but are contacted infrequently, usually when I need something. These types of subjects have usually been selected because they can provide me with a particular resource. The Banker and The Builder are two good examples. Others may have been selected simply to satisfy my need for amusement. We've all enjoyed pulling the legs off of spiders, haven't we? One thing is common to all: once a subject, forever a subject. I learned a lot from watching The Godfather ;-)

So anyway, Emily and I have been in contact, mostly by text. I continued to play it cool, all the time hinting that my tastes are unusual and she best keep her distance. The very young, of course, hate being told that they are too timid and usually over-compensate. I will not bore you with a blow-by-blow (no pun intended) description of the exchanges but it ended with some photographs of Emily, that she sent on her mobile telephone, to demonstrate her maturity. Most women look sexier when partially clothed. Total nakedness does not suit most women but Emily is an exception.

Once, I mentioned the name of the club, the deal was sealed. She asked if she could bring some friends and I agreed she could, as long as they are female.

***

I haven't mentioned it before but I have accumulated quite a collection of photographs and videos of Kim on my mobile telephone. She was quite shy at first but has become quite the exhibitionist. She now seems to be fascinated by watching herself performing and takes it for granted that the camera is often rolling while we play. Of course, I only show her the videos in which it is difficult to identify her.

In addition to taking high quality pictures and videos, my telephone has something that I wish I had always had. It allows me, at the touch of a button, to record my telephone conversations. I have recorded almost every word that Kim and I have spoken on the telephone and this week was particularly rewarding. 

Our encounter at Friday's party was very brief, so she had not been properly used for a while. She was, therefore, only too eager to articulate her needs when I prompted her. It was useful to record it but what followed later on was much, much more useful. Here is a snippet.

"Why don't you say what you feel," I said.

"You know how I feel," said Kim

"Yes but I want to hear you say it."

"You want to hear me say I love you?" said Kim.

"Well don't you?"

"Yes I do. I love you," said Kim.

"And I love you and need you," I said.

"And I need you too," said Kim, "I feel like I have woken from a very deep sleep."

"I wonder, did you ever really love John?" I asked.

"I was very fond of him," said Kim.

"And are you still fond of him," I asked.

"I am surprised how easily he has given in to you."

"You've lost a bit of respect for him as a man?" I asked.

"A bit yes," said Kim after a long pause.

"Do you  love him?" I asked.

"He's been a good friend and a good father to the children," said Kim.

"You mean, to your children?" I said.

"Yes my children," she said with a sigh.

There's more, captured on my telephone, but I think you get the gist.

As a tacit reward, I met Kim for lunch yesterday and did the high-class-whore-in-an-hotel game that she enjoyed so much the first time we did it. I also threw in a little play-rape scenario, with bondage. I was surprised how much she got off on this and it will come in very handy.

Party girl

I called Kim on Thursday, to tell her that my trip was cancelled and that I would be coming to Emily's birthday party on Friday. She told me that, although she was pleased that I wasn't going away, she didn't want Emily to be embarrassed in front of friends and family, so was concerned about me being there. I was full of soothing reassurance that I would embarrass no-one, including John. She could simply present me as an old friend, as she had done when I met John. She seemed slightly reassured but not much. Frankly, I was going to turn up anyway. I was just trying to avoid John and Kim looking slack-jawed in shock if I turned up unannounced again.

I wasn't sure what was meant but 'party, but it turned out to be one of those parties where about eighty percent of the people were friends of the birthday girl. The rest were the parents and other 'adults', keeping a watchful eye out for drugs and pretending to be 'cool'. Alcohol was, however, flowing freely and I had brought my own drugs anyway. Music was thumping out in all of the downstairs rooms, except the kitchen. I spotted Kim in the hallway and weaved between the party-goers to say hello.

"Kim!" I said, loudly, as if greeting a long lost friend. After the obligatory air-kisses, on each cheek, I gave her a long-lost-friend-hug, slyly dropping my right hand to give her bottom a playful squeeze. Kim, who had clearly had a few drinks, emitted a half-giggle and swivelled her head round quickly, to see if anyone had noticed.

"Let me get you a drink," said Kim, breaking off the hug and leading me by the hand, through the throng, towards the kitchen.

Michael was coming out of the kitchen. He greeted me in that time-honoured manner, "oh it's you!"

"Mum, I'm off," said Michael.

"Must you?" said Kim.

"I promised I would stay for a bit and I have. But I really can't take much more of Emily and her stupid friends," said Michael.

"She's your sister!" said Kim.

"Yeah but she's not my friend," said Michael, making his way towards the front door.

"They used to get on so well," said Kim sighing.

At that moment, John appeared next to us. He didn't exactly look pleased to see me but I greeted warmly. I asked him how the English Open Golf was going. I hate golf but it is another of John's sporting passions and it isn't difficult to bluff one's way through. I pushed the right buttons and John quickly relaxed and became and animated, talking about the golf. While he was talking, I pulled my hand out of my pocket and gave his crotch a quick, discreet squeeze, to check whether the chastity device was still in place. It was.

"Didn't find the key? Or do you just like it and have locked it back in place?" I asked.

"Didn't find it," said John with a frown.

"Be a good, well-behaved, boy tonight and I will let you out tomorrow," I whispered into his ear. Another frown. "Up to you," I said, "but now I must mingle."

And mingle I did. I have to say I am rather good at mingling. Age is no barrier. The art, as I have noted before, is to get people to talk about themselves and empathise with what they say. I have never felt any genuine empathy in my life but it is easy to fake. Actually, I think my detachment makes me come across as more empathetic than most people because I am not tempted into talking about myself. The trick is listen properly, agree with what the person says, supported with some well-chosen, but not outlandish, lies to establish common interests. It's always a good idea to reflect back the person's own words. It sounds transparent but, believe me, it works.

Anyway, I was busy being charming when someone tapped me on the shoulder. It took me a moment to realise it was Emily. She was older looking than in the pictures I had seen. She was slim, bordering on skinny. Her hair was dark, dead straight and down to her shoulders, framing the sharp features that bore more than a hint of Kim. She was wearing a single piece, black linen, sleeveless dress that barely covered her bottom. Her legs were bare, atop black flat pumps. She is gorgeous. I smiled, recalling how slutty her mother was at the same age.

"You must be Harry," she said, extending her hand with a smile.

"Indeed I am," I said, "and you must be Emily?"

"And indeed, I am," she said, adding, "I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh really, " I said, "any of it good?"

"Afraid not," she said.

"Oh dear!"

"Michael told me that you are wanker," said Emily

"Oh dear, did her say anything else?" I asked.

"Quite lot for him, the little shit," said Emily.

"Maybe, I should leave now," I said, jokingly.

"Oh please don't," said Emily, "if Michael dislikes you as much as it seems, we will probably get on very well indeed!"

Echoing Kim, some weeks ago, she said she she wanted to know 'all about me.' But with someone at such an exciting point in their life, between school and university, it wasn't difficult to turn it around and get her talking about herself. As we talked, she flirted with me. I wondered whether Michael articulated any suspicions about my relationship with Kim. She wouldn't be the first daughter to try to steal her mother's lover. I kept my distance, physically and verbally, adopting the old, 'playing hard to get' approach. I did, however, allow my eyes to tell a different story.

Kim, who was now quite drunk, broke up our tête-a-tête, sidling up beside and putting her arm protectively around my waist. "Sorry, darling," said Kim, " I am going to have to take him away from you, there's someone I want him to meet."

I raised my eyes, signalling, 'I've got no choice.'

Emily gave a shrug that signalled, 'I understand. Mum's drunk. There's no point arguing."

"You know we could always pop upstairs, unnoticed, for a little while," Kim whispered into my ear as me walked away. The context made the offer too good to refuse.

We returned to the party, both a little more crumpled than we departed, with Kim sporting a big, soppy,  post-orgasmic grin. She made a beeline for John. I saw her take her hand from somewhere below her waist and raise it to John's lips. He hesitated and gave a lick. Kim grinned, looked across at me and winked.

I was about to tell them that I was leaving when there was a tap on my shoulder again. "We didn't finish our conversation," said Emily.

"I'm not sure we should," I said.

"Why's that said Emily," with a pout.

"Because you are far too attractive," I said.

"When did that become a bad thing?" asked Emily.

"It's not," I said, "but I am a friend of your mother's and you are very young. I don't want to get into trouble."

"What sort of trouble did you have mind?" said Emily, flirtatiously.

"Oh, you wouldn't like the sort of trouble that I like," I said,

"Maybe you should try me," said Emily.

Kim arrived, as she had done before. "I was just leaving," I said to Kim.

"Oh, must you?" she said, as genuinely as a drunk is able.

I was insistent that I had to get up early and really had to leave. As I was making my excuses, I felt Emily's bony hand press something into the palm of my hand. I slipped it discreetly into my trouser pocket.

I said a polite goodbye to Emily, and walked with Kim to the Kitchen, to say goodbye to John. With the three of us together, I gave Kim a key to the chastity device. I told John that it was now up to Kim whether he was released and for how long. I gave Kim polite kiss and a hug, shook hands with John and off I went.

Outside I pulled, what turned out to be, a piece of paper from my trouser pocket. It was a mobile telephone number, followed by the words, "Call me. You wont be disappointed. Emily XXX"

Surprise visit

When I left Kim and John on Saturday morning, I gave no indication as to when I would see them again. I received a number of texts from Kim but did not respond. My availability needs to become unpredictable. Kim has already seen that her husband is not a real man. I am her only source of excitement, strength and, yes, love. Now, I want her to fear losing me. I want her to need me.

I decided to turn up unannounced, yesterday evening, somewhat enticed by the prospect the prospect of meeting Emily. Alas, Emily was not home but Michael was and it was he that answered the door.

"Hello, remember me?" I said, with fake chumminess.

"Unfortunately," said Michael.

"I'm here to see your Mum," I said.

Michael called to Kim, over his shoulder, standing in the hallway with one hand on the door and me standing outside. Kim's face was a priceless look of confusion when she saw me. Michael lingered in the hallway, a mixture of protector and spy.

"Thanks Michael," said Kim, signalling for him to get lost. He lingered. She said it again and he went inside. "This is a bit...errr...unexpected," she said.

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked, adding quickly, "I thought you might be pleased to see me?"

"No, of course I am," she said, with a sigh. "Come in, come in. It's just a bit awkward with Michael here."

As I followed Kim into the hallway, John came down the stairs.

"I know," I said, "you weren't expecting me." As I spoke, my hands started to roam gently over Kim. " But the problem is that I was thinking about your wife and decided that I needed to fuck her, right now."

"Well, it's a bit awkward because Michael is here and is staying tonight," said John, uneasily.

"That's okay," I said, "we'll just go upstairs and fuck now."

"You can't. Not with Michael here," he said. At last, John was putting up a modicum of resistance.

"Can't," I parroted, "can't! Didn't we agree some rules?"

"Yes," said John, "but not while..."

"There was no 'but while' in the rules, John," I interrupted. He frowned.

I turned to Kim and pulled her into my arms. "I have to go away for a couple of weeks," I lied. I kissed her softly. "I was really hoping we could spend some time together before I go. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Yes, yes, I would," she said, eyeing John anxiously.

"Let's have a chat alone," I said to John, steering him into the kitchen.

I told John that he had three choices. First, I fuck Kim upstairs, right now. Second, he finds Kim and I an hotel and takes us there. Or third, I tell Michael about what is really going on and leave it for John to deny it. And to make the third option a bit more persuasive, I showed him a little video I have of Kim on my mobile telephone. I left the kitchen and walked into the living room, leaving John to ponder his choices.

"So how are you, " I said to Michael, as I sat down. But my bottom hardly barely touched the seat before John appeared at the door, asking for a word. "Be right there," I said to John. I paused and turned to Michael, as John disappeared. "You know you really look like your mum. But I cannot see your dad in you at all," I said.

"Everyone always sees what they want," said Michael.

"Perhaps," I said, "anyway, good to see you again." He grunted something as I left.

And so John chauffeured Kim and I to a nice small  country hotel. I'd love  know what he told Michael.

***

Kim was a bit uneasy about how she came to be with me last night but she is now needy enough to put that aside. In fact, I felt confident enough to use her pretty roughly. There seems to be a tipping point beyond which bad treatment seems to reinforce  a person's need more than considerate treatment. The old aphorism, 'treat them mean and keep them keen,' is mostly true, although there does need to be some tenderness mixed in as well.

And in case you are wondering, Kim told me that John has been looking for the key that he swallowed but hasn't found it yet.