Prologue.
xxx
Cleverly situated at the heart of London's West End, one of the most exciting districts of the city, Soho Lofts apartments offered spacious and trendy one and two-bedroom apartments with large windows, modern furniture, luxurious appliances, and tasteful décor. The ideal location is only a short distance away from Tottenham Court Road, Leicester Square, and Piccadilly Underground Stations, offering direct links to and from Heathrow Airport and Paddington Central.
The building also features a concierge service, and all lofts have a flat-screen TV, an equipped kitchen with a dishwasher and a microwave, a washing machine, and two bathrooms with a shower. Popular points of interest near the apartment include the Queen's Theatre, Prince Of Wales Theatre, and Dominion Theatre.
Beverley Dawson chose the large open-plan one at the very top of the building. She christened it the Danish Room after the Danish Dinesen wooden floors. The bespoke Italian Boffi kitchen features Gaggenau and Miele appliances, a subzero wine fridge, high-quality Corian work surfaces, and a large breakfast bar with a touch-close drawer mechanism. The bright and spacious double bedroom, featured by electromagnetic glass, is flooded with natural light from the two large southwest-facing floor-to-ceiling windows and benefits from a fully equipped ensuite, including both a large double-ended bath and a separate walk-in shower.
"Not bad for nine grand a week," said an admiring Ana Fox.
"Not bad at all," agreed an impressed Eliza Barra.
The satisfied busty blonde that was Beverley folded her arms and raised her flute of Bollinger and clinked it with those of her other close friends, Crissy Hynes and Anjali Rai. The thirty-five-year-old beamed like a Cheshire cat as she sat in one of the padded leather chairs in the 969-square-foot loft. Only a month before she had found out that her distant Uncle in Woolloomooloo had died and left her his legacy. A cool ten million Australian dollars. About five million in sterling. She could barely remember the fellow but he apparently remembered her. The Aussie landowner had no living children and so she had become the lucky beneficiary.
"You see, the thing to remember about conducting an extra-marital affair is to consider all possible outcomes and make sure that nobody finds out. This is why we shall use the loft exclusively and not stray to anywhere we might be noticed."
Bev visibly relaxed. It had taken her six months of planning to make this idea happen. The friends finally had somewhere they could use as their own exclusive hideaway.
"Ah, here's Ariana. Late as usual."
"Sorry. Signal failure at Bond Street. The Central Line is fucked up."
Beverley smiled at her little group. All six of them had met at school and had stayed friends since. Since they had reconnected after the end of the pandemic they had agreed to a standing date every Sunday to air their grievances and unwind in like-minded company.
They had all married well. Anjali, an Anglo-Indian, had wed a Hindu fellow who had become a successful bespoke tailor. Eliza was married to a magnificent chef in one of the best Mexican restaurants in London. Crissy designed dresses with her husband, and Ana was an art curator with hers. Ariana's husband was in local government and actually worked at the very school the ladies had attended in their teens. Beverley herself was a professional photographer who specialised in advertising with her fifty-year-old spouse, Ronald.
Apart from their long friendship, all five shared the same problems in their otherwise normal lives. Their other halves had all abstained from sex, choosing to have celibate relations. Over the past year, this had rankled with six red-blooded females who regarded themselves as at the peak of their sexual prowess, and still attractive enough to be noticed. Once a month the group gathered for a night out together. They had all aired their frustrations to each other but had refrained from cheating behind their husband's backs. So when Beverley hit the jackpot, she came up with a solution for them all to sow their wild oats.
"I think we're entitled to have a sex life as long as we stay committed to our husbands," continued Dawson. "It's not only men who think about sex all the time. We think more about getting laid than they even do."
"Right. Women enjoy having it off just as much as the next guy. How's your love life, Crissy?" asked Anjali.
"Peter and I are still in love," said Crissy. "We used to have sex regularly. In fact, I gave him a blow job, one of my specials, only a month ago and he loved it. But what did I get in return? Nada. I finished off with my vibe as usual."
"The last time Tom and I had sex was a year ago." Ana took a big gulp of bubbly. "He was good though and he fucked me silly. Had me clawing at the sheets with pleasure. And all of a sudden he kept on giving me excuses for not wanting to make love. I thought he might be seeing someone else but he says not. I'm gagging for a shagging."
"Miguel is the same. God, I came twice with him the last time we fucked. I was well and truly grateful that night. But now he works in the restaurant twenty-seven."
Eliza pouted as the others all nodded in agreement. They were all in need of some loving.
"So, are we all in? Will you all do it?" Everybody smiled back at Beverley who sat back relieved. "Okay, next the question. I want to talk it over with everyone. Do we decide to find the right weekend that suits us all and you all let me arrange the scenario? All expenses are paid by me and you are not allowed to bring any guests. You can choose any fantasy you want, with either males or females of even groups."
She paused to let it all sink in before she continued her proposal.
"All participants will be screened and made to understand the rules. Any positive test for disease, excessive drinking, or disrespect to any of us will result in expulsion. I have made contacts and I am highly satisfied with everything. Our husbands know nothing about the loft. It shall be our secret hideaway. In one sense we are cheating but in a respectful way. We are not sleeping around or planning on leaving our marriages. We're just feeding a need. Living out our sexual fantasies. So, who can make it here next weekend?"
All five whipped out their mobile phones and checked calendars.
"It looks like I'm free," said Anjali.
"Right then. That's settled, Be here on Saturday night at nine."
"Bloody hell," quipped Ana. "I've got goosebumps!"
x
Chapter One, Anjali's story.
When the British Empire ruled the world, they slowly planted seeds for all kinds of nationalities to come to the old country. Enter Anjali Rai from West India. She had married at eighteen and she and her new husband quickly discovered they were sexually compatible. They had gone through the entire Kama Sutra within a month. They moved to East London where Anjali bore him two children. After her second pregnancy, her breasts ballooned to a 32DD cup size, something that her husband found a complete turn-off. At thirty years old, she was proud of the fact that her body was still as fit and toned as ever. She had matured into an absolutely stunning woman with exotic features and a light brown complexion. On the night in question, Anjali looked in a scarlet pant saree with an attached long drape, and a hand-embellished blouse with a plunging V-neck.
"How thoughtful."
Beverley had made her feel welcome when Anjali entered the loft to see lots of plants, flower arrangements, and Vastu decorations to make the space bright and inviting. There were also figurines of Ganesha and Buddha for a traditional feel. It is an Indian tradition to worship the Tulsi plant and in many Indian households, the plant occupies a dedicated spot in the courtyard or interior. She took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of jasmine that came from the coloured nine-inch incense sticks. The effect gave her a sense of a delightful fragrant sanctuary.
Still highly sexed, Anjali had told Beverley that she had fantasised about making love to not one, but two, virile young men for just one night. It would go a long way to satisfying her needs and desires. She had given Anil, her husband an excuse to leave the house and she hurried to West London. She had anticipated this evening for a long time. The group had all spoken about their fantasies and tonight it was happening for real.
"Hello, boys. You must be Paul and Peter."
"At your service, Madam."
"Do call me Anjali."
Both good-looking men took her breath away. They both looked about her age with wavy dark hair, nice physiques, and broad smiles. Beverley had spoken vaguely about a posh escort agency and that she would not be disappointed in her choices. A shiver ran through her as she was given a quick hug and a squeeze. Her heart began racing. They were simply the sexiest guys she'd ever encountered. It was almost a year since she and Anil had made love. Twelve months since she had felt lips on hers, a tongue in her mouth, or a hard dick inside her. There had hardly been a week gone by when she did not think about sex. She still had feelings for her husband, but she missed the physical side so much. She didn't want a relationship, just a one-night stand.
"You look ravishing."
"Thank you."
"What a lovely room," Peter said, flashing her his captivating smile. "You seem a little nervous, Anjali."
"Yes I am a bit, I have never done this before."
"Just relax, We're very experienced."
"How do you want to do this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, different ladies have different preferences."
