I've had a bit of fun with my descriptions on this final part. I hope you enjoy.
I stood in that ballroom with Ayesha, and her friend Paula, two ladies I had met for the first time that evening. I had photographed them both: the one in an incredibly erotic coins outfit; the other nude under a transparent veil.
Aleysha had been the perfect hostess, and gracious to me, the only male present.
"We must show our appreciation for your efforts, Henry. There is a warm supper which has been prepared by the staff, who will be anxious to get to bed. I suggest we have it served in my sitting room with some more wine, and indulge in some chilled out conversation. I would certainly like to get to know you better. I'm not ready for this evening to end just yet."
Paula nodded enthusiastically. "You know me, always willing to burn the candle at both ends. I'm still buzzing. How about you Henry?"
I looked around. "I've hardly got started. But where are my clothes?"
Aleysha smiled. "The staff have taken them to my rooms. You will be more comfortable in that dressing gown than in your everyday clothes. You can change later.
"Let me show you the house on our way up to my suite."
As Aleysha gave me a brief tour of the house, it was clear that Paula was already familiar with it. These two ladies from quite different backgrounds, were evidently very close friends.
Aleysha's husband, Bashir, had gone to Carlisle for a weekend horseracing meet. He would be back Sunday evening. It was also apparent that Aleysha was not the least put out by his absence.
"I was his trophy wife. I tell you this, Henry, in the strictest confidence. He has no interest in women. Nor in men. He lives only for his horses. I have been the dutiful wife for so long that I have forgotten what I like to do for myself. I have always been so proper and careful; not to give offence or embarrassment. Tonight was a welcome release.
"It felt so good this evening to do something totally outrageous. I could do so in private, in front of my women friends -- and you, Henry. This evening was a changing point for our ladies, I'm sure. We shall not be the same again."
Paula harrumphed. "That'll be a good thing. We're too stuffy."
We had reached Ayesha's sitting room. It was fact a very large upstairs lounge overlooking the grounds of the estate, as she explained. It was furnished in something of a clichΓ© of a rich middle-eastern boudoir, with rich tapestries, decorative wall tiling, free-standing lattice-work screens, potted palms, large richly decorated silk rugs, sofas and an abundance of large scattered cushions.
I gazed around me in wonderment at how the other half lives. But Ayesha was not a brash, rich woman. She was clearly a modest, quiet, dignified lady. Which made her revelation that evening all the more astounding.
A long low table had been laid out with an array of dishes. Ayesha named them all: including halloumi, slices of manakeesh, pizzas, hummus, pitta breads, falafel, tabbouleh, stuffed vine leaves, and so on. A side trolley had bottles of champagne, chilled white wine, rosΓ©, liqueurs, and cocktail mixers.
I gasped. "Were you expecting company?"
Aleysha laughed. It was a beautiful, musical laugh. It stirred my depths into a renewed wakefulness. My fresh arousal felt like an avalanche, so physical was her effect on me. I would have to take care not to over-step the mark in my present, sexually febrile condition. I had drunk little, so was relatively sober, and my passion had been surging to high levels all evening as I endeavoured to highlight the sensuality in such a wide array of attractive women.
Paula was revelling in the aftermath of the evening. "I hadn't expected this event to be a success at all! In fact, I thought the day would have ended early and the leading lights would come up here to hold an inquest."
"I think Ayesha has played no small part in that successful outcome. The perfect hostess to make everyone feel at ease."
Ayesha regarded me thoughtfully, "You know, Henry, it is you who have made the difference. Our women's association has for too long been a sterile, asexual copy of a typical Women's Institute. In London, women know how to congregate in groups which are not afraid to sample the delights of risquΓ© sexuality. Here, in this dull, Home Counties suburbia, we play safe and coy, pretending to be straight-laced and conservative. Yet inside we are bursting with unfulfilled sexuality. I don't know one of our wives who speaks well of her husband. That is sad. But when Josie talked of you, Henry, it excited my passion. There is no baggage in your relationship, simply mutual pleasure.
"I give you full credit, Henry, for bringing us out of our shells, for making photography and eroticism fun."