They were dressed casually but expensively – both were probably in their mid-forties. “Good afternoon. You must be the Andersons.” Matt and Jenn nodded mutely. “May we sit down?”
Snapping out of his reverie – or enchantment – Matt stood and gestured to the empty seats. “Please do.”
“Thank you.” There was a studied calm, a deliberate slowness in the way both of the men settled in their chairs before speaking. “I’m Angelo – Ange. And my colleague is Hamil.” The silent partner nodded, as Matt reached over and shook his hand. There was, perhaps, a hint of a patronizing smile on his lips as Jenn stood and shook their hands as well. Once they were settled, Ange went on. “We’re associated with the
Celestial Concubine
– agents for the Billionaires' World Tour. We were rather interested in your letter of inquiry.” They all shared a tiny, wry grin – all, perhaps, understanding the necessity of such a euphemistic approach to the subject. Initially, Ange did all the talking, with Hamil simply nodding his agreement now and then.
Ange was most persistent, apparently trying to ensure that both Jenn and Matt knew what it was they were applying for. He never used the words 'sex', 'submission', or 'dominance' but manipulated the conversation so that both Jenn and Matt were required to use those words in their own replies, several times each. At last satisfied that the point had been made, he seemed to relax. His companion nodded sagely but otherwise remained impassive. Matt felt an irrational dread germinating in the pit of his stomach while Jenn felt only the excitement of a new adventure unfolding. She was amazed that she was able to speak of such things, there in public with no hint of reticence.
Finally, the other gentleman, Hamil, spoke up. His slightly accented voice was soothing and calm. "Some would-be applicants are still astounded when the enormity of their required commitment is fully explained. We try to avoid such unpleasant surprises."
Ange smiled beneath a large black moustache. "You seem to be under no misconceptions." His Italian accent was cultured, his voice low yet authoritative.
A waiter took lunch orders, and Matt handed over the questionnaires-come- applications, as well as the waivers. The two men scanned the information silently, passing sheets between them, curiously circling things and making brief notes in the margins. The Andersons sat immobile, watching intently. Jenn felt an odd curiosity. How many times before had those two done this same thing? How often did something like this happen? Matt only hoped for a quick decision, although, at that moment, he wasn't at all sure what he wanted more – acceptance or rejection.
Once they had been served, the interview proceeded. It was surprisingly short and casual. Jenn and Matt were told that they would be, if they were accepted for the positions, quite a novel pair by nature of their maturity; most submissives are young – up to thirty, maybe. And being married to one another, they would certainly be a curiosity. The combination could, conceivably, make them rather popular with the guests. Hamil, the more reticent of the two, smiled and nodded at that. "Yes, very popular, I would think." Still the interviewers warned them that they, themselves, did not make the final decisions – Matt thought of car salesmen taking the offer 'back to the manager', but said nothing.
“The brass,” Ange muttered, shaking his head while surveying their papers again, “might consider you a little too long in tooth.” He clicked his tongue quietly. “Still, with your eagerness and apparent determination” – Matt, with the aid of the past months and months of practice, had fortunately, not let any of his dread or indecision show – “and your related experience, your prospects aren’t, maybe, so bad.” As the men concluded the interview, gathering their papers, Jenn withdrew a videocassette from her purse and handed it to Ange. Inked on the label were the words 'collage résumés – Jenn & Matt A.' Ange looked at it and raised his eyebrows momentarily, then handed it to Hamil.
“Nice touch,” Hamil remarked, offering Jenn a smiling nod. Jenn was nervous – worried that she might have been too bold. The video had been an impulse. She held her breath, hoping she had improved rather than spoiled their chances. Exchanging a look with his partner, Hamil added, “Very good. We’ll look forward to viewing this.” Jenn exhaled at last as he read the label once more then handed it back to Ange who pushed the tape into his portfolio, along with the application papers.
Standing abruptly, Ange said, "Thank you, Jenn, Matt." He and his companion reached across the table to shake hands with the Andersons. "It's been a pleasure. We'll be in touch." They turned and left. There was something sly in their smiles as the two men walked from the restaurant. Jenn collapsed back into her chair. She realized she was ringing like a bell. Matt sat down more slowly.
"Well?"
Jenn felt twitchy inside. "I don't know." They had just been interviewed for positions that were entirely involved with sex, yet they hadn't even been touched, except to shake hands. Suddenly, she craved abuse. She wanted to be fondled and groped, fingered and fucked, pinched and hit. Her crotch began to leak, its fine forest gathering dew and mist. Reaching under the table, she molded her hand to Matt's flaccid cock. It immediately sprang to life, pressing out proudly against the thin material of his pants. "Well?" Jenn returned, her eyes flashing with unchecked lasciviousness. Matt's eyes had widened at the sudden intensity of his erection. "D'ya wanna give it the ol' college try?" Jenn whispered.
"Why not?" Matt hissed. "Couldn't hurt."
They called for the check, and Jenn finally unhanded her husband, after giving him a last affectionate squeeze as the waiter approached. She felt him, Patrick Penis, bob in return. Matt inhaled, carefully. He had come frighteningly close to coming in his pants. They might make magic yet. The waiter inclined his head and said respectfully, "The other gentlemen took care of it, Sir, thank you."
Rearranging himself as best he could, Matt stood and took Jenn's hand. As they left the busy restaurant, Jenn flashed a suggestive grin at their waiter and, leaning her head on Matt's shoulder, sang just audibly, "Sky-rockets in flight, Afternoon delight...." He returned her smile, somewhat longingly.
Suddenly brazen and wild, she felt a certain deja vu. Images and visions collided in her head. Jenn recalled burgeoning experiences, not so long before, when she had accompanied various guests from
Celebration
back to an apartment or hotel room for the night. Leaving alone, standing outside the building amidst the rush of midday, she had thought, more than once, how very sheltered she had been all of her life. Perhaps she was being sheltered still – from the tawdry, down-and-out side of the trade, still, her eyes were now open; she had seen many sides of life – and death. Notwithstanding, she realized, she was, in many ways, not much more than a common whore – except maybe not so common. Rushing from the restaurant, hand in hand, with wide, slightly wild grins, Jenn felt whorish and conspicuously lewd. It didn't matter. She was Matt's whore, this time.
Matt could feel it too. He recollected a similar scene only recently when he had caught sight of an old acquaintance leaving a hotel in the middle of the afternoon with a woman other than his wife. Their eyes had met briefly. The fellow had shrugged guiltily with his eyes, in response to Matt's conspiratorial smile, and had hurriedly turned away. Matt smiled once more. Here he was in the same position, except that his mistress was his wife.
They could hardly make it back to the condo. Jenn's fondling cause Matt some difficulty driving, but kept him eminently aroused until they tumbled into their apartment and straight to the bedroom. There was neither submission nor dominance, just a wild, unbridled fuck. Jenn squeezed him into her with her ankles. Her fingernails, clawing viciously across his back, raised Matt to hyper-readiness. As Jenn's skyrocket ignited, she muffled her screams against Matt's chest, biting and sucking his nipples raw. Like a sea to air missile, Matt's ejaculation intercepted the fireworks already underway, and joined them to produce a mutual climax so bright and colourful that they both wondered why they would ever need anything else. They drifted back to earth, the ashes still glowing, still sparkling here and there, now and again.
So much in love, and such a torrid love, why were they seeking thrills in so exotic a venue as the impending 'cruise'? The question floated between them, unspoken, flickering from eye to eye. Yet, they both knew. High level, non-hierarchical sex like that had become, for both of them, an anomaly. It was wonderful, but rare – and getting rarer. Their needs were seldom satisfied so simply, any more. They would relish it when it happened but they shouldn't bank on it – they wouldn't. Rocking together on the bed, still fully engaged, Matt smiled rather sadly at Jenn and kissed her gently. She spoke his mind softly, "If only, eh?"
