Around the time Sylvia was due to show up, I cooked some dinner to have for her just in case she would come in hungry. I wasn't much of a chef, but I figured she would at least appreciate the effort. I also chilled some red wine that I purchased earlier; I did know that she loved it.
Though a meal wasn't what she was coming over for. I knew that already. Already, images of the threesome I had with her and her busty blonde friend Sara flashed through my mind, during which Sara allowed me to orgasm inside of her, angering Sylvia.
Internal ejaculations were something Sylvia normally reserved for her husband, but from a conversation I heard between her and Sara, I learned that Sylvia was thinking about bending that rule, even considering using regular birth control in order to do so.
I swallowed hard. Was I really going to be allowed to do that? If so, this rendezvous was going to be out of this world.
For me, that was one of the best parts of sex. I usually always want to cum inside of a woman; whenever I do so, my orgasms are always much stronger. I've wanted to fill that beautiful, redheaded French woman with cum, but I respected her boundaries. And doing so resulted in me fulfilling one of my biggest fantasies: having a threesome.
I would never tell Sylvia, but the orgasm I experienced while fucking the other woman in the threesome, Sara, was one of the strongest I'd had in a while, even rivaling those I'd normally have with her.
Though something tells me she may have known.
Shortly after preparing dinner, I heard the intercom buzz. Sylvia announced that she was outside. I pressed the button to let her in, opening the door once I heard her knock. As always, Sylvia's makeup was done to perfection and her red velvet dyed hair shimmered, as though she just came from the salon chair.
Intrigued and curious, I immediately noticed the long trench coat she was wearing, a coat which trailed past her knees. I wondered just what she was wearing underneath it.
"May I come in, Monsieur Martin?" Sylvia asked. I gestured for the redhead to do so. The tall, clear heels she wore clicked loudly on the kitchen floor. She carried a purse which she set down by the door.
"Did you just come from your club?" I asked. "I wouldn't want you to miss a night of making money just for me. I mean, this is prime money-making time for dancers, isn't it?"
Boosted by the height of her heels, she stood almost eye level with me. She gave me a quick kiss on the lips, then told me not to worry.
"I have no problems with taking a break tonight. Besides, I think it's worth it to spend time with you. You don't think I like being around you?"
I shook my head and shrugged. "I wouldn't say that."
"You're so humble." Sylvia gave me another kiss. "That's one of the reasons why I like you. You're so nice. But you should know that I have no issue being here. Money is not something Larry and I worry about; we have plenty."
True enough. I guess that came with being the top earner of her club—she probably made in one or two nights that most people made in a month.
"May I take your coat?" While I was asking to be a gentleman, I wanted to see what Sylvia had on under it.
Sylvia grinned. "Not right now. By the way, do you like having your apartment cold?"
"No, not necessarily. Why?"
"Do you think you could you turn up the heat a little?"
Once I heard that, I already knew I was going to like what I'd see once Sylvia's coat came off. I shuffled over to the thermostat and turned it up a few degrees.
"I made some food if you're hungry."
She nodded, shooting a quick gaze to my stove. "You cook, too? You really are a gentleman. I'm surprised you aren't married yourself. Do you want to have a wife someday?"
"I don't know about that. Maybe someday if I meet the right woman. But for now, I think I'm just going to have fun."
"That's good. I'm sure that when you do get married; you're going to end up with a great woman."
I smiled. "Thanks. If she's half as gorgeous as you are, that'd be the best thing ever."
Sylvia kissed me on the cheek, then said she appreciated the compliment and that she was certain I'd find a wife someday who I was crazy about.
She mentioned she'd already eaten but helped herself to a glass of red wine. It wasn't the fanciest drink, but she appreciated it nonetheless, mostly because I cared enough to have some for her. Sylvia told me it was the thought that counts.
Just as she did for me, I pointed out her good qualities as well. In addition to having a great smile and one of the best bodies I'd ever seen on a woman, she was appreciative of simpler things.
If someone looked at her, they'd think that she only wants the finer things in life; she'd only be with men who owned big houses and mansions and she'd only drink the finest alcohol, but she didn't mind coming to my small apartment and drinking wine you'd find in the grocery store.
"Shall we head to your couch, Martin?"
"Sure," I said, though the French woman grabbed my arm and led me to the couch, then took a seat next to me, her thigh touching mine. Even though we weren't saying anything, just being near her made my pace quicken and blood flow south. Sylvia's aura, powerful and sexual, could rouse even the most stoic of men.
"So, you know I wanted to talk to you." Sylvia's tone became more serious.
"What about?" I'd heard her conversation with Sara the other day, so I had an idea of what she wanted to talk about, but I still had to give the impression that I was ignorant of what was on Sylvia's mind.
