Entertaining at Large

Susan first appeared in

Entertaining at Home.

Other characters mentioned joined the story in subsequent episodes of

Entertaining at Large

; Monica made her first - brief - appearance in the last chapter. If you like the look of this chapter it might be worth checking them out to discover people's back stories and the details of events mentioned. Comments, suggestions and support welcomed as always and thanks to those of you who already have.

*****

'How can I put this politely George? There is no way I am going to let you and your semi-alcoholic mates gang bang me just because you're renaming your little club the Crown and Anchor Relaunch Committee.'

The fat one had called me on my lunch break and spun me a cockamamie tale about organising a week of events at the pub once the refurbishment was complete. He said he wanted me to get involved. Likely story. There was a ping on the line indicating I had another call.

'Hold on George. Someone else wants me. I'll finish telling you to fuck off in a second.'

I pressed the requisite button and cut off his protests.

'Hi.'

'Hello, this is Monica. Do you remember me? Nigel's mother.'

'Oh yes. Would you mind holding for a second. I was just in the middle of something.'

My heart sank. The little scrote must have told her what we'd been up to. And she'll be ringing now to tell me exactly what sort of whore she thinks I am. At least, I thought, she was doing it on the phone, not in public. I may as well get this over with. I got George back on the line.

'You'll be delighted to know that's someone wanting to tear me a new one on the other line. I'll see you in the pub tomorrow to finish doing you the same favour.'

I clicked back over before he could start again.

'Sorry about that. Nice to speak to you again. What can I do for you?'

'I was wondering, and I know this is an awful imposition, if you would mind meeting me for coffee this afternoon?'

No way, I thought, just start the yelling now and get it over with.

'I just wanted to meet you to say thank you.'

'Thank you?'

'Yes. For everything you have done for Nigel. He's like a changed boy since he met you. I wanted to let you know how grateful I am.'

'That's really very nice of you to say, Mrs, er, Monica. But there's no need. Honestly.'

'Nonsense. Luciano's at five. And I won't take no for an answer.'

She hung up before I could work out what the hell was going on.

OK, so I had given her little boy his first hand job. His first blow job - and the second come to that. And, yes, I had fucked him a few times as well as a group of his horny mates. But what mother in her right mind arranges a date in the town's most upmarket café in gratitude for that?

I was checking to mark all the exits when I walked in to the posh watering hole. Just in case things got nasty you understand and I needed to make a run for it. I felt just like James Bond's prettier sister. Monica was waving to me from a table in the centre of the large room. She was smiling so I was able to relax a little. When I reached her she rose and kissed me on the cheek. I could smell her Chanel No 5 and felt her large breasts brush against my arm.

She had dressed up for the occasion. This was a very different woman from the harassed housewife I had met a few weeks before. She had on a low cut blouse under her tailored blazer. The tight skirt complemented both perfectly without giving the impression of a business suit; this was a lady of leisure. Someone used to five pound cups of coffee and eight pound cakes.

'I feel so silly.'

I smiled supportively.

'Dragging you out here like this.'

I kept smiling. Always the best policy when you have no idea what's going on. She kept beaming at me as we ordered coffee from a bored looking teenager. She started again as soon as she was almost out of earshot.

'He's like a new boy since your little seminar.'

Keep smiling, I thought, here it comes.

'He's polite. He's helpful.'

She looked around and lowered her voice to a furtive whisper.

'He's clean. Fresh underwear every day.'

I gave a polite laugh.

'There's always more laundry to do when they get a new girlfriend.'

'No. He's even started doing his own. The house was spotless and he had a meal waiting for us when we got back. He's never cooked in his life. And it's all down to you.'

'I really can't take any credit. We did talk a little about attitude, appearance and so on, but mostly it was rather boring business stuff.'

'Don't sell yourself short. They told me.'

My defences rose again. Just a little.

'Erm, who did?'

'Kieran and Stefan. They said you told them always to be pleasant and give compliments when they thought they'd be appreciated. They asked if they could make me lunch some time. To say thank you for all the snacks and meals I had given them.'

The rascals had been hitting on her I thought. I tried to sound nonchalant.

'How did this come up?'

'They were waiting for Nigel to get home from college and were admiring my new hair style.'

She brushed her fingers through it hair to attract my attention. I took the hint and she spoke at length about her stylist and the conversations she had had with him before making the decision on the highlights. I assured her she had been correct and she grinned appreciatively.

'Anyway they insisted I sit with them and Kieran made me coffee. It was as if they were flirting.'

She spoke in a slightly shocked tone.

'Perhaps they were. You are a very attractive woman and you know what young men are like.'

'Well I thought I did until a few weeks ago. Surly, moody and inarticulate.'

'That sounds about right.'

'But now.'

She lowered her voice to a whisper.

'I dropped a bra from the wash basket as I was carrying it through to the machine yesterday. Kieran picked it up and said how nice it must look when I was wearing it.'

She flushed red and raised her hand to her throat and started playing with her pearl necklace.

'It's a good job your husband didn't catch him. That's definitely more than flirting.'

'Him.'

There was a bitter edge to her voice. She didn't need to say more to convey her unhappiness with her marriage.

'Anyway, I've been thinking about you a lot. So eventually I plucked up my courage and here we are. Would you like a glass of wine?'

I was definitely lost now.

'I'm not quite sure I'm following you.'

'Come on. The Royal's just over the road. The bar will be quiet at this time and I don't have anyone I can have a proper girly chat with.'

She looked suddenly very sad And lonely. I felt sorry for her and so I agreed.

'As it happens I have a dinner appointment there at eight. I suppose I might just get away with it wearing this.'

'It's perfect for dinner. If I hadn't known I had dragged you here straight from the office I'd have assumed you were going on a date.'

She left a note for the bill and was almost pulling me to the bar before I had a chance to change my mind. We checked out coats and I left my briefcase in the cloakroom. I carried the small bag from the

Nighty Nook

with me. I had bought a new suspender belt, knickers and stockings. I could change in the toilets if I got the chance.

A waiter brought our drinks to one of the secluded leather sofas which were the hallmark of the Royal. A large glass of Chardonnay for Monica and a Perrier and lime for me. There were no other women customers there and only a few men tapping away on laptops and mobiles as the business day ended. The whole place had a tired feel to it. Monica took a large gulp of her wine and stared at me for a moment before speaking.

'Do you think it would be very wrong to seduce one of my son's friends?'

I spluttered my sip of Perrier back into the glass and glanced around hoping no one had noticed.

'What?'

She put her hand to her face and lowered her head.

'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't even be thinking things like that. It's just that I get so damned horny.'

She stole a glance at me to assess my reaction to her confession. I smiled sympathetically and placed my hand on her knee.

'I'm a great believer in consenting adults doing whatever they like. But I should think very carefully about it. You have a fantastic body, those breasts are amazing. I'm not surprised Nigel's friends try it on. You're their perfect fantasy woman. But surely your husband must be satisfying you. He won the jackpot when he married you.'

I wasn't buying her story. I was sure she got hit on all the time. Tonight she was wearing a low-cut blouse and even my eyes were constantly drawn to her cleavage. She must get propositioned several times a day. She started scrabbling in her handbag for a tissue and began to sob.

'He's a pig.'

Her story washed over me for the next half-an-hour. I signalled the waiter for fresh drinks and simply listened. I occasionally stroked her knee and for a moment we hugged. She had been something of a wild child in her youth, she confessed, but had started dating Nigel's father in her late teens because he offered some kind of stability. He was five years older than she was. She admitted that if she hadn't got pregnant with Trevor, her first son, the relationship probably wouldn't have lasted.

Whilst she was looking at their marriage as a new beginning, for Howard it represented an end.

'He turned into his father overnight. He even started smoking a pipe for a while. We stopped going out. We stopped having sex. I practically had to rape him and then I got Nigel. Don't get me wrong, I love both my boys dearly, but I haven't had sex for nearly a decade.'

I was shocked and it must have shown on my face. She told me they slept in separate rooms. That, I thought, explained the lack of women's clothes in the room I'd screwed the boys in. Under my sceptical questioning she admitted that, yes, she was propositioned by her husband's friends and business acquaintances. And, yes, that she was on occasion tempted.

'But they are as boring as he is, their wives are my friends. I couldn't do it to them.'

'But you are thinking of screwing their sons?'

We had gone beyond the point where euphemisms were appropriate. She had told me that on their recent holiday in St Lucia she had been practically naked for the whole week wearing nothing but the skimpiest of bikinis and even that had not moved her husband.

'I know, it's awful isn't it? It's just that they've become so attentive and, you know, there's a hunger in their eyes. I just want to get laid.'

I had to admire her. She had something which I would never have: poise. After the initial tears she had been quiet and composed. Even her final outburst was made with nothing but a slight gritting or her teeth to give the whisper emphasis. I took her hand and forced my eyes up from her glorious mounds to her eyes.

'And what makes you think that I can help you? This is only the second time we have met.'

'I know.'

I thought she was going to cry again and looked for my own bag to provide more tissues if necessary.

'You struck me as a confident and outgoing woman when we first met. Someone who knows what she wants and goes and gets it when she sees it.'

'You are so wrong.'

She waved my comment away.

'But then listening to the boys talk about you, I just knew that I had to meet you. To seek your advice.'

I sipped my water and contemplated what to say next. I decided to lay out her options and let her decide, for all her tears and indecision, at heart she was a strong woman, I reasoned, and just needed my permission to do what she had already decided: to betray her husband.

'If you want to get fucked tonight, this very evening, you have about fifteen choices.'

She smiled in a rather patronising way. She was assuming I was joking.

'First, just continue to sit here for an hour. I guarantee one of these lonely men will proposition you. He'll have a nice room upstairs and be delighted to get your motor started again.'

As if on cue the water came over to us.

'The gentlemen at the bar have asked whether they can buy you a drink ladies.'

We looked across and there were two not-bad looking fifty year olds smiling across at us. Monica looked at me as if I might have set the whole thing up.

'Please thank them for us, but tell them we are waiting for friends to take us to dinner. We appreciate their attention. Perhaps some other time.'

He smiled knowingly and left.

I grinned at her.

'Make that sixteen. Second, you could get a room, order some champagne and call between one and all of Nigel's friends. You'd have your choice of panting hunks hammering on the door in the time it took them to spray on their Lynx and catch a taxi over here.'

She burst out laughing. I was laughing too, because I knew I was right.

'What's the third option?'

'I'm due to have dinner with two German buyers who are over here discussing contracts with local firms. They asked if I could bring a friend with me and I had to say no. I can text Otto now and tell him you will be joining us.'

'You mean like a double date?'

She sounded interested.

'Sort of.'

I looked at her. She had pulled a compact from her handbag and was rearranging sections of her already immaculately coiffured hair. She stretched her mouth with her tongue and picked out her lipstick to freshen it up.

'Do you think they'll like me?'

'They'll love you. You've entertained businessmen socially loads of times. Can I be completely candid with you?

'Of course.'

I did not have her full attention. She was applying fresh eye shadow. I decided to hit her with the facts.

'We will be charging them two hundred pounds to have dinner. When the meal ends they will ask if we want to go to their rooms and we'll charge them another two hundred to sleep with them. You would be on a promise'

She stopped tinting her eyelid and slowly looked over the mirror and into my face. I looked back at her and gave a small nod.

'Isn't that rather a lot?'

Was not what I expected her to say. In fact of all the possible responses I had considered she might make from screaming at me to fainting clean away like a Victorian virgin, it didn't even make the list. I smiled. It was the only way to stop myself laughing out loud.

'We're worth it.'

'But I'll be terribly rusty. It's been a long time.'

She looked more concerned about committing an infraction of the trades description act, than her marriage vows. I faintly, very faintly, stroked the tip of the breast nearest to me on the pretext of brushing away a speck.

'Once these puppies are unsheathed, they'll be all over you. You won't have to do a thing.'

She took a deep breath, took one last look in her mirror before snapping the compact shut, stowed it away and slowly half-turned so that she could face me directly.

'If you're sure they won't be disappointed. I'll do it.'

She could have modelled as a lottery winner with her expression of triumph. I leaned over to hug her and then picked up my phone.

'Last chance to back out.'

I smiled and started to tap at the screen when her face suddenly melted into a look of sheer despair. She grabbed my hand and started apologising. The words were tumbling out of her.

'That's OK. I completely understand. This sort of thing is not to everyone's taste, I just hope you won't judge me.'

I was surprised to find that I was feeling a little disappointed that I would soon be dispatching her back to the suburbs.

'No. You don't understand.'

She kept hold of my hand and stole furtive glances over each shoulder before leaning closer to whisper.

'I'm wearing my granny knickers.'

'Your what?'

'My granny knickers. You know the comfortable pairs you wear around the house. I'd die if someone saw me in them.'

I knew her well enough by now to know she wasn't joking. I knew myself well enough to know that unless I said something quickly I'd soon start giggling and shortly after that be lying back on the sofa, kicking my legs in the air and howling with laughter. She was about to commit adultery and she was most worried about her underwear. Poor Howard's day was surely done.

'No problem.'

'It isn't?'

She looked slightly relieved but still unconvinced. I handed her the small carrier. She peeked inside.

'We're about the same size, at lease from the tummy down. If those knickers fit you can have them; if they don't, just go commando. The suspenders and stockings will make you feel more risqué, try them if you like.'

He expression immediately sprang back to one of courage and delight as she prepared to stand.

'Text them, I'll be back in a minute. Suspenders.'

She simpered.

'I haven't worn those since... Well for a very long time. A different life.'

'You might thank those two for their offer of a drink on your way to the loo.'

I couldn't help but notice that the two men who had sent the waiter over had continued to stare longingly at us ever since.

'It'll help you get your flirt on.'

She almost skipped away whilst I texted Otto. I watched her chat briefly with our two admirers, touching each on the shoulders and giggling at a joke before disappearing. When I told my German contact we were already in the hotel bar he said they would come down straight away. I sat and waited for all three of them hoping that tonight went well. I realised I didn't have any female friends of my own age, or thereabouts, with whom I could swap stories or share confidences about the more extreme edges of my sexuality without fear of judgement.

The men arrived and were like two German businessmen from central casting. I wondered whether they might be brothers. They were both tall, about six feet, slightly overweight with longer-than-cropped hair, but only just. They were, like Helmut when he was sober, exquisitely polite and assiduous in their concern that I had everything I needed. They ordered glasses of Riesling from the waiter and I explained that Monique - we had forgotten to arrange pseudonyms - would be with us shortly.

I saw her emerge from the Ladies and hand my small bag to the barman. They shared a joke too before she strode confidently across the room towards us. About halfway she suddenly stopped as she realised Otto and Dieter had already arrived. I waited a long few seconds while she looked as though she was deciding whether or not to make a run for it. She then pulled back her shoulders, almost dislodging a tray of drinks from the hand of a passing attendant with her boobs, and walked over to us smiling. I jumped up to make sure I got to her first.

'Monique. This is Otto and Dieter. The gentlemen we were expecting. I was just explaining to them that though you are Monique and I was christened Suzette, in fact, we don't have a drop of French blood between us.'

I probably needn't have bothered; both men were hypnotised, you can guess by what. But she picked up the thread.

'Delighted to meet you. You should have met us when we were younger, smoking

Gauloise

and drinking red wine by the bucketful. We used to make out our mothers had had affairs with film stars and given us the names to remind themselves of happier times.'

I had experienced the formality of German greetings before. But whereas Helmut, and Mr J when he was feeling Germanic, would bend smartly from the waist kiss my hand and stand straight up, Otto and Dieter executed the same manoeuvre in slow motion. Their eyes were glued on Monica's cleavage to the point they could no longer see it. They would then peck her hand and quickly rise to the point it was sunrise time on planet boob and float back upright keeping their eyes on the cleft between her breasts the whole time. In any other situation, I would have mocked them incessantly. But I wasn't being paid to make fun.

The two men were happy to take chairs and allow us to continue to enjoy the greater comfort of the low-slung sofa. A little discreet flashing on my part made sure their attention was not wholly fixed on one point. Monique enjoyed another glass of wine and I a water while they regaled us with tales of international travel and the particular intricacies of the products of the light engineering company they were employed by.