After a time, sipping on the wine already at the table, Henry spoke up. “I got the mail you sent last night. When was that taken, if I may be so bold?”
“I don’t tell secrets to the un-initiated, Henry. If you want to know things, you’ll have to get involved.”
“Involved how?” Getting no reply from Sara, he turned to the salad that had just arrived.
“Why is it we’ve never talked about our lovers, Henry?”
“I never knew you had any, though I’m starting to rethink that ….”
“You should have more surprises in your life, Henry. All this time, I’ve been on a wonderful ride, and I was neglecting you. I’m going to fix that.”
“And how would that be?”
She laid a hot hand firmly on his arm, and did not speak until she had his full attention. When his eyes finally found hers, and were locked tight by them, she resumed. “When was the last time you left a lover’s home because you knew it was either that or be swallowed whole by her passion? Ever spent a day being eaten slowly by two women, who tasted everything you had to offer, and shared everything they tasted? Do you have any tender memories of a time when you were awakened with an orgasm that seemed to ride your body through the entire day, until you finally faded into the sunset?”
The waiter brought their main dishes and Sara, without looking away, or softening her voice, finished her sentence, held out her hand, then concluded with, “Thank you, Mario – I think we’ll take the second bottle as well, then that will be all.” Henry’s eyes widened as Mario bowed, placed the back of her hand against his cheek, not even kissing it, then departed.
Looking down, a dry-throated Henry asked, , “So … this is what you do?” This Sara was so foreign to him that he no longer knew how to look her in the eye and ask her direct questions. Receiving no answer, and seeing that she had already begun on the pasta, he knew he would get no answer until he could look her in the eye. He lifted his eyes and watched her for a moment before her unblinking gaze returned casually to him.
“I told you, Henry. I don’t share my secrets with people who won’t appreciate them. The most you know … or should know by now … is that you and my pussy will become very close friends, and that I think it would be good for you to meet at least a few of her other friends. Beyond that ….” She trailed off. “Mmmm – the shrimp is so tender. He knows exactly how I like it. Try one.” Without waiting for agreement or deferral, she slipped one onto her fork and placed it at his lips, which opened absent-mindedly, and received it.
Henry did not specifically remember leaving the restaurant and returning to the office. Actually, he simply knew they had occurred because before he knew it, he was back at the office, heading to a long afternoon meeting. Midway through the meeting, his grumbling stomach informed him that he had been unfocused, and had eaten too little of the meal. Not to worry (“not to worry ….?”), Sara had told him she was expecting him for dinner at 7, and to dress for it. She didn’t specify how well to dress, simply saying, “Impress me.”
When he arrived at her door at 6:58, bottles of Shiraz and Chardonnay cradled in his arms (he had no idea what they were eating), Sara greeted him, elegantly, in a long red gown, slit up to the hip, with spaghetti straps. “Come on in, Henry. I didn’t mention earlier, but there are other guests – I’m sure you’ll find them interesting. I like the suit, by the way – Julia has good taste. Better take one of us along next time you shop for ties, though.” He entered – walking out of habit across to the French doors separating her living area from her bedroom, and draping his overcoat across the chair just inside the doors.
Having been introduced to the other four guests, Harry busied himself with polite conversation through drinks and dinner – watching the other guests banter with some familiarity, one with another, and with Sara somehow floating above it all – watching and smiling. The even mix of men and women kept the conversation swirling without interruption. At the end of the meal, with the last bit of wine finished, Sara said, “Alright – why don’t the four of you make yourselves comfortable in the other room. Henry will help me clear the dishes.”
So, Henry helped her clear the table of dishes. As he was beginning to load them from the kitchen counter to the dishwasher, Sara took his hand, saying, “That should do it for now. Why don’t you come with me and we’ll talk for a bit.” So, they left the dishes and returned to the living.
Henry was a little surprised to see they were alone in the living area, but noticed very quickly that Sara’s French doors were now closed. Sara pulled him out of his puzzlement, however, and immediately into conversation, updating him on a recent camping trip she (the Sara he knew) had taken. As she wound through her story, Henry became aware of activity within the bedroom. Shadows passed before the frosted glass, and he heard soft conversation punctuated with gentle laughter. Sara talked on, as Henry’s attention gradually shifted toward the bedroom. Bodies came together, silhouettes kissed, and shadow hands moved sensually in and around other shadows. Soft sighs and moans of pleasure slipped through the thin crack between the doors, and now and then a gasp. Shadows shifted, then began blending in earnest. One of the women – (was it Marguerite, the smoky-voiced redhead?) began panting in unmistakable passion as she and the figure above her formed a triangle of torsos and arms. The triangle rocked back and forth and undulated, legs rising up against the candle flames at the far side of the room. They were joined by a third side, large, and linear (was it Andrew with the graying moustache?). Sara continued her description of the hikes she had taken and Henry to his credit, seemed to nod at the appropriate times, but she knew all her words were slipping past – she would tell him again sometime when all pretense was gone she actually intended him to hear.
The triangle opened up and became a sturdy box, open to the top. There was no doubt that Andrew’s cock was slipping into Marguerites’s mouth, past her shining red lips. Only the thinnest shadow connected Andrew and Marguerite for a time; slowly the two sides converged, and then Henry watched as Andrews shadow cock plunged deep into Marguerite’s throat and out again. Martin’s pace remained steady, his runner’s legs no doubt serving him well for the solid, perfectly-paced fuck he was giving Marguerite. He could see from time to time, as she arched her back, the building passion on the bed. Strands of shadow reached out and caressed her breasts and sides in unison, seeming to join themselves, then separate, and the more they danced over her body, the harder Marguerite began thrashing under their attentions. Henry watched without blinking, then realized the fourth, a blonde named Sharon was nowhere to be seen. Trying to watch for her, but unable to shift his focus, Henry waited and she suddenly loomed in from the shadows, laying aside something (was it a camera?), and joining this multi-segment creature. Her head went straight for the joining of Marguerite and Andrew, directly to the point where his cockshadow entered Marguerite’s mouthshadow. Hands reached up now and stroked, the cock was pulled out for Sharon to swallow, then returned to Marguerite, then back again. A swirl of hands and lips ministered to the cock, while Martin continued to provide the base rhythm, now building more insistently, but no less constant. Henry could make out Marguerite’s thighs clasping, shifting, and re-clasping as Andrew’s cock plunged in and out of her, and could hear the satisfying slap of wet genitalia.
He was also vaguely aware that Sara’s voice had stopped – perhaps some time back. A quick glance over showed her watching his face dispassionately, but intently. She was no doubt entirely aware of – and entirely satisfied with – the sweat that was running into his eyebrows. His eyes left hers and telescoped him back into the activity in the bedroom. Sharon’s head bobbed on Andrew’s cock, and then drew back, returning it to Marguerite’s lips as Andrew’s hips began their trembling thrusts of orgasm. He surged into Marguerite’s mouth three, four, five times, then abated. Fingers danced along the shaft, but no more surges came, and when the cock withdrew, Henry was surprised to see Sharon bend down to share a deep, wet kiss that left no doubt as to the disposition of Andrew’s semen. The shadow of Andrew grew, then shrank back, as he appeared to take up Sharon’s position out of the light. He also picked up the object, which Henry had to assume was a camera. Martin continued his quickening pace, as Sharon’s figure began a slow path down toward the junction between Marguerite and Martin.
In his peripheral vision, Henry saw Sara loom up to his left. His pulse raced as she drew closer, and he was certain she was about to take his hand and lead him into the bedroom. She placed one hand on his shoulder, and bent down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, saying softly, “I think my other guests need my attention. Would you mind letting yourself out?”
Her slitted dress flowed behind her as she glided toward the bedroom doors. As her hand fell upon the doorknob, he began, “Oh - my, umm …” Sara silently pointed toward his overcoat, carefully draped over the back of the loveseat near the door. With two fingers, she blew a kiss to him, and slipped through the briefly-parted doors.
Clearly, there had never been any consideration of inviting him in. He knew that to sit there and watch her become immersed in the shadows of passion dancing on the other side of the glass, would drive him mad with untappable desire, so he beat a hasty retreat. Once safely out the door and en route to his car, he thought back to the morning. He had been entirely wrong. Julia wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night, and Sara – this new, unknown Sara – was a major problem. Once home, and unwilling to waken Julia at this late hour, he found companionship in the remainder of the Pinot Noir, and drifted into another, more-troubled night’s sleep.
