Professional Excellence

Monica first appeared momentarily in

Entertaining at Large Chapter XV

and then had a starring role in the next one. That's how this all started. Be worth reading if you want to be fully in the picture, but I hope this story will stand alone. I also set myself the test of trying to make these tales shorter than the

Entertaining at Large

marathons. I'd be interested to know what readers think as well as any other comments. Suggestions and support are always appreciated.

*****

I had a dilemma. I had been woken up by two stiff cocks, one pressing into each side of me. I gently withdrew my arms from under the bedclothes and stretched my body hard from my toes to my fingertips. Who to suck off first? Stefan was smaller, about five inches; Kieran was a good eight. I slid back down the bed for a high-protein breakfast.

I was pleased with myself, just pleased, not smug or anything. I could notch off two of my son's friends - two down, seven to go - and it had been as easy as landing a hooked fish. I smiled, remembering my uncertainty that I would ever bed any of them. I still had the traces of a grin as I closed my lips over Kieran's erect penis and slowly took all of him into my mouth. I felt him stir slightly beneath me as I buried my nose in his pubic hair.

It had started, like all good tales, with a happy ending. I groaned loudly as my vibrator - Josh - finally took me over the edge into a panting orgasm, my third of the current session. I lay back twitching slightly and let out an inadvertent shudder as he slowly slipped out of my pussy and lay throbbing against me. It had become my habit to let the vibrator keep running after I'd come. I liked the sensation when it touched my bum and thighs and it was sometimes a useful reminder that I still had time for another session. Not today though. My phone was ringing; I didn't recognise the number.

'Hi.'

I was still a little breathless, so kept it short.

'Mrs Thurston? It's Kieran.'

'Kieran, nice to speak to you. It's been a long time. Did Nigel give you my number?'

I reached down and turned Josh off.

'What can I do for you?'

'Well nothing really. I was just wondering whether you have plans for Friday?'

'Are you asking me out on a date?'

I kept my voice steady. Kieran had been the most audacious of the boys flirting with me over the past few weeks. Even I had blushed when he had commented on my underwear as I carried washing through the kitchen to the laundry one afternoon when he had joined Nigel after college. There was the auditory equivalent of shuffling feet at the other end of the line.

'I thought I might come round and cook you that meal like I've been promising.'

I paused while I sifted the information. There were, I reasoned one of three things going on here. The possibility I liked most was that he wanted to get in my pants whilst my husband and son were enjoying a weekend away at the Grand Prix.

Second, he might want cooking lessons. Nigel had been assiduously taking notes whilst I cooked recently before burning whatever I suggested into the bottom of pans afterwards. The boys seemed to have taken to heart Susan's advice that they learn to look after themselves in preparation to leaving home. I just regretted it was such a destructive process. Lastly, I supposed, it could be a combination of the two.

'That would be lovely, of course, but you really don't have to. I'm sure you've got better things to do with your time than entertain an old lady while her men are away.'

'You're not old Mrs Thurston. No, I really want to do it. Like I said, you've always been really kind to us and I want to do something in return.'

He sounded really earnest. It was sweet.

'I was planning on sorting through the pictures from our trip to the Caribbean. I'm rubbish with computers and I never get a chance to practise.'

'I could help you with that too if you like. But Stefan's the one who is the computer whizz. Do you want me to bring him?'

I laughed.

'You think you need a chaperone do you? Worried about what I might do if I get you alone?'

There were noises of protest at the other end of the line.

'It's just that he really knows what's what. I wouldn't want anything to happen to your pictures because I pressed the wrong button.'

'Of course not. I imagine button-pressing is not one of your strong suits.'

The

double entendre

was lost on him and he started a story about how he had managed to delete some document or another his mum had been working on for ages. It had all the makings of an epic tale so I cut him off.

'Shall we say seven o'clock then? Do I need to get anything in, or shall I leave the arrangements to you?'

'We can come? Great. Leave everything to me Mrs Thurston. See you then.'

'Oh Kieran.'

'Yes? Is anything wrong?'

'Nothing at all. But don't you think you'd better start calling me Monica if we're going to be better acquainted?'

'Monica.'

He laughed and hung up. I wasn't sure whether it was the prospect of using my first name which amused him or whether he was just trying it out in preparation and the laugh was for something else.

Howard is something of a motor racing fan. But mostly he was taking Nigel away for the weekend as some kind of father-son bonding experience; I think he must have read something about it in one of his magazines. I had no real idea what he had planned, if anything. He had hired a camper van - I had filled its fridge with prepared meals - and spent several evenings checking and rechecking routes, tickets and weather forecasts. He had gone through the same routine with Trevor, our eldest, a few years before.

That had been a disaster. The wettest weekend on record. Trevor had hated it. Even though he is my son, I have to admit that he's something of a prig. He seemed to have gone from an inquisitive and impressionable ten-year-old to a middle-aged man with nothing in between. Nigel, on the other hand, was turning out completely differently.

He had, so far as I could tell, no I interest in cars or racing. I'd certainly never heard him talk about it. But he knew his father wanted to go and had expressed enthusiastic interest in each part of the planning and arrangements. He kept asking me whether I would be OK on my own. I told him of my plans to organise the holiday snaps. He had not laughed too much.

'When you crash the computer, just turn it off. I'll sort it out when I get home.'

They left for Brands Hatch in the middle of the afternoon. I watched the van lurch down the road like a kangaroo and said a silent prayer for their safety. I was pretty sure Howard would master the gear changing and get accustomed to the size of the vehicle before they hit serious traffic, but a watcher from above wouldn't do any harm. My mind was already on my date that evening before I had closed the front door.

I was surprised at my sense of excitement. I was, after all, old enough to be Kieran's mother. I kept telling myself I needed to stay calm and in control. It was easier said than done. I set about tidying the front room to keep my mind on practicalities. It was the work of a moment. I spent more time getting the laptop set up on one of the coffee tables. I slipped the card with the photos on it into the little side slot as Nigel had showed me. I didn't want to lose it. I dusted the dining table and found a couple of candles. I was expecting that whatever I ate would be charred or underdone, I had suffered through enough of Nigel's efforts, but a romantic ambience would improve anything, I argued.

The front door bell rang at five-to-seven. I took a moment to give myself a final once-over in the hall mirror. I straightened the seams on my stockings. The proprietors of the

Nighty Nook

were making a fortune from me, but I had to agree with them that the old-fashioned nylons enhanced the shape of my legs and made them look longer. I fluffed up my hair, adjusted my boobs inside the low-cut top of the dress one last time and opened the door.

Time froze for a moment as we stood staring at each other. If the look on my face matched Kieran's it was clear we liked what we saw.

'There are two of you.'

'You look fantastic Monica.'

There was only the slightest of hesitations before he used my first name.

'I hope you don't mind. I told Stefan about your plans for your holiday pictures and he sort of insisted on coming too.'

'Of course not. Nice to see you Stefan. It's been a while.'

I got a mumbled response, but the unexpected guest looked relieved. My mind was already racing with the possibilities. I had only ever had two men at once a single time. On my debut as a call girl. And once is never enough, is it? I shivered slightly as the cold outside air won the battle with the warmth flooding outwards from the centrally heated hall. On the other hand, it might have been the thrill of anticipation.

'Come in. We'll all get pneumonia if we stand here much longer. You know where the kitchen is.'

Both boys looked pleased to have instructions to follow. I made a mental note. There was a strong smell of aftershave as they passed me. Kieran was carrying an open carton with interesting-looking plastic boxes inside. The bag Stefan held sounded with the tell-tale clink of bottles. Both of them had clearly dressed for the occasion. They were wearing almost identical outfits of smart trousers, their best shirts and shoes which were one step up from the trainers they usually wore.

'You two look nice. Are you going out later? You look dressed for clubbing.'

The two looked at each other, each waiting for the other to come up wth a response.

'It's OK. I wasn't expecting that you'd want to spend the evening with me. I'm sure you'd get mightily bored.'

I laughed to emphasise the point, but less than discretely smoothed my hands over my tits and down my dress as if straightening it out. Both pairs of eyes followed my every move.

'No. We've got no plans.'

Kieran even managed to pull his eyes up from my cleavage when he spoke.

'We sort of thought. Well, you know, that'd we'd be here most of the evening. But you look like you're dressed to go out. I hope we're not spoiling

your

plans.'

'This old thing.'

I looked down at the dress as if I wasn't aware I was wearing it and adjusted the bodice again as if to ensure my nipples weren't peeping out.

'I thought I'd better make an effort as you were going to so much trouble. Do you like it?'

They almost fell over each other in their rush to compliment me on how I looked. I made modest poses as they emphasised the colour under the lights and how much it suited me; how the shortness showed off so much of my legs. They stuttered to a halt when, having pointed out how the tightness showed off my hips, they reached the upper half.

'You think I'm showing too much cleavage? I can change if you're embarrassed. It's a problem for ladies with large breasts.'

'No, no. You're breasts are beautiful.'

'Why thank you, Kieran. What about you Stefan? I'd hate for you to feel uncomfortable.'

'Please don't.'

He looked down at his feet and went red. Kieran had always been the extrovert of the group. Stefan's seriousness meant he often got overlooked when they were together. I doubt he had spoken more than a dozen words to me in the years he had been coming over. I reached out and stroked the side of his face.

'Then I won't. But let's get this show on the road. I'm intrigued as to what we're eating. And what is all that clinking in your bag? You're not planning on trying to get me legless are you, Stefan?'

We had been standing together in the kitchen. The boys were moving from one foot to the other like they used to when they needed to pee when they were small. I reminded myself that I was in charge. Stefan took a deep breath before he spoke.

'I've been learning how to make cocktails. We've got loads of bottles at home that dad used to bring back when he had business trips abroad.'

He paused. I remembered that his parents had split up a year or so ago. There was more than a little acrimony as I remembered. I held the freezer drawer while he unloaded a bottle of vodka, orange juice, cranberry juice and an interesting-looking pinkish concoction with the label turned away from me. I rescued the bottle of red wine which was about to follow them.

'I think this one probably needs to remain at room temperature. Is it to go with the food?'

'We're having spaghetti bolognese - proper bolognese - not the meat stew the English usually serve.'

Kieran sounded quite proud.

'We've got a mate whose parents come from Italy. His dad's been teaching me. He gets really cross at the way we mess up their food.'

The kitchen became a hive of activity. After a couple of offers to help which were rebuffed, I perched on a stool and just watched. OK, so I made sure the boys got plenty of opportunities to peep down my cleavage and stare at the line where the tops of my stockings revealed glimpses of bare thigh. I was the hostess after all. I thought it was the least I could do.

Kieran chopped and diced, shredded and crushed all the time keeping up an enthusiastic commentary on the origins of the sauce he was creating and why it was so much better than its insipid English cousin. It was, no doubt, a straight repetition of what his mentor had told him, but it was great to hear his joy.

'So what about these drinks, Stefan? The vodka will be OK in the freezer, but if you leave the rest in there much longer it'll turn solid.'

Stefan jolted himself upright. He had been leaning his chin on his hands and staring unashamedly at my tits. I, of course, didn't mind at all. He stepped over to the freezer and retrieved the bottle, shaking the cartons of juice to make sure they were still liquid. He lined them up on the counter next to the cocktail mixer he had brought with him.

'Do you have any crushed ice? Oh and glasses of course.'

He was thumbing through a tiny notebook. His recipe book, he explained when he saw me looking quizzical.

'Not crushed, but if you flick the switch on the ice machine in the door of the fridge we'll have all the ice we need to make our own. The glasses are in the top cupboard. I'll get them.'

We have cocktail glasses - we have glasses for every occasion - but we hardly ever use them. They were right at the back of the cupboard and retrieving them necessitated removing about a dozen others first. I noticed after a minute or so that, save for the clunking of ice cubes into the bowl, all other activity in the room seemed to have ceased. I glanced over my shoulder to see what had happened. Both of them were staring, not quite open-mouthed. I smiled as I realised that as I stretched the already small dress was riding up almost to the bottom of my panties. My thighs, save for the thin straps of my suspender belt, were on full display.

'Like what you see?'

Stefan immediately looked away and pretended to busy himself with his preparations. Kieran didn't.

'Very nice. Your legs are amazing. So long. I'm glad you're wearing suspenders and stockings they somehow enhance the curve of your buttocks. Sorry, would you like a hand?'

'No need to apologise. I think it's better I get them. We don't want any breakages, do we?'

I passed the bowl-like glasses on their thin stems down to him and smiled into his face as I straightened up. I tugged down the hem of the dress and readjusted my boobs for what seemed like the tenth time that evening. All the snaking and wriggling meant I brushed against him a few times. Accidentally at first, but then less so when I realised how obviously entertained he had been by my display of naked flesh. Kieran was sporting an erection of substantial size. It's length and solidity was clearly outlined against the fabric of his trousers.

'You're very forward these days, young man. Are you getting these lines from an old manual on how to pick up girls?'

He was unfazed.

'No. They're all my own. Someone told me I should pay compliments whenever I can. People appreciate them.'

'Well I certainly do. I can't remember the last time anyone noticed my legs.'

We smiled at each other for a second before he had to stir his sauce again. I turned off the ice machine and carried the bowl and glasses over to Stefan. He snapped his book shut and returned it to his pocket.

'We need something long and hard to smash the ice. Have you got a bag we can put it in?'

I did a double take to make sure he wasn't being suggestive. But Stefan was obviously less worldly than his friend. He had already turned away and was shuffling the contents of my kitchen drawers before returning triumphantly brandishing my rolling pin. I tugged a carrier from the dispenser and poured the cubes in.

I shrieked as Stefan hit the bad for the first time. A lump of the ice shot into the air and, where else, straight down my cleavage.

'Get it out, get it out.'

I leaned towards him crying out and waving my hands about like an idiot. It honestly didn't occur to me to do it myself. I could see the cube nestling just above the point where the dress started. The freezing water was already trickling between my breasts. I tried to keep as still as possible to stop it slipping further. I needn't have bothered. As soon as Stefan plucked up the courage to delicately slide his fingers between my boobs, he pushed it deeper.

'Don't mess about, stick your hand in and grab it.'

I could feel the rapidly diminishing square lodged just above the point where a small bow joined the two cups of my bra. I pushed nearer to the nervous boy, grabbed his wrist and shoved his hand between the globes.

A less trusting person than myself may have suspected hanky-panky after what happened next. Somehow, rather than retrieving the ice he contrived to push it inside the left cup. His hand followed it. I don't know whether it was determination, greater confidence or just the pleasure of copping a feel, but he chased the errant object all over my chest. Once I'd got over the initial shock and become accustomed to the discomfort of ice cold water trickling down my body, it was almost fun.

Between the cold and the warmth and movement of Stefan's fingers my nipple was almost instantly stiff. I was wriggling both to try and assist in the capture of the errant berg and because of the pleasurable sensations I was getting as his warm hand searched around inside my bra. It was a few minutes before we both realised the ice had completely melted and the search could be called off. Stefan suddenly stopped moving. He was cupping my boob in his palm and either by accident or design his thumb was pressing against my engorged nipple. He looked at me as if seeking instructions as to what to do next. I smiled.

'I think you can take your hand away now. It's melted.'

He tugged his hand out of my bra which gave me a final tingle and wiped it on his shirt. He was grinning too.

'Sorry about that.'

'What for, the expert chip shot or your amateurish thrashing about in the rough?'

His smile widened but he said nothing.

'Forget him. What about me? Can I dry you off?'

Kieran was standing holding a limp piece of kitchen roll and looking very jealous. I took it from him and began to pat it on and around the damp patches I could feel on my breasts.

'Cheeky.'

I tugged up the bottom of the dress and bunched it under my boobs. There was a pool of water in my navel which needed mopping up. I examined the faces of the two lads: pictures of concentration. My mind suddenly leapt back to the flashers who were the bane of public parks in my youth. For the first time I got an inkling into why they did what they did. I felt the beginning of a familiar buzz in my pussy. I winked at my audience.

'Drinks?'

Again, Stefan was jolted to attention and completed the complex process of battering the ice into submission. Kieran returned to his sauce, giving it one last stir before declaring it almost ready and patting me on the bottom. It made me jump slightly and I must have looked surprised.