What turned out to be one of the most unforgettable, shocking, and delicious nights of my life almost never happened.
As the head of the Freestyle Skiing Association of Canada came up to the podium to introduce the Tremblay sisters on stage, I applauded with everyone else. But I was thinking about what an enormous hassle it had been to get these three girls from Quebec to attend our gala charity dinner at a ballroom at Canada Place just weeks before the 2014 Olympics.
It was a joint venture between the ski association and the Vancouver General Hospital, which had brought me in from Seattle as a consultant to organize the sale of thousand-dollar tickets, a silent auction, and a 50/50 raffle supporting both the athletes and the purchase of new diagnostic equipment. There had been a lot of talk about "innovative partnerships between the sport and health care sectors" and so on.
With my six-month contract wrapping up, I'd worked with the hospital's event organizing committee to confirm the attendance of the Olympians. The Nordic skiers and the bobsleigh team turned out to be easy. But Nathalie, Denise, and Catherine Tremblay took forever. They were doing aerials training up at Whistler, and the team PR manager was very uncommunicative. He told me it depended on whether the coach would agree to a break that weekend.
Finally, less than three days before the event, I got a one-sentence email directly from Nathalie: "We will be there!!!!!" Well, thank God. Christmas was saved.
There was an empty seat next to me at my otherwise packed Table #27 in the corner of the ballroom, and I put my purse down on it as I rummaged for my new smartphone. I was supposed to contribute a few photos for the event blog. I zoomed in on the podium as the girls stepped up to say a few words, and I couldn't help a murmur of pleasure at what I saw.
They were even cuter, fresher, and more feminine than the photos on the ski association web site indicated.
Nathalie, the oldest and tallest at 24, had a wonderfully honest and fresh-faced complexion with long brown hair tumbling past her shoulders. She wore a lavender lace dress cut well above the knee and sheer black tights. You could tell she was a smart girl and a leader. She had a big designer watch on her left wrist.
"It is a fantastic pleasure that we are here with you tonight in Vancouver," she said, flanked by her younger sisters. "We hope only to make Canada proud in Sochi. We have trained so hard, and now to support the hospital also is a great privilege..."
Denise, age 21, was the one who described herself as a bit of a fashion princess. She had a quintessentially French woman's face and her brown hair was tied back in a bun. She smiled shyly, nodding as Nathalie talked. Denise wore a faux-fur collar and a floral-themed cotton dress cut a little lower than Nathalie's, along with see-through blue tights.
Catherine, who was 19 and had won a silver medal last year on the World Cup circuit in Norway, still had that teenage insouciance about her. She kept reaching up to adjust her long blonde hair, her lips pursed with a bit of a "let's get on with this" attitude. She scanned the crowd to see who was looking at her, clearly aware she was the prettiest of the sisters. She wore a red silk evening dress with daring, diamond-patterned sheer black stockings and a bracelet of white pearls.
Very nice, I thought, as I finished snapping my photos. Naturally, my filthy mind turned to which of the girls I would most like to have if I could choose. Nathalie, I decided quickly. An oldest sister, which I've always liked, well-spoken, and the bustiest of a modestly endowed trio. Probably unshaven too, based on the Quebec women I'd met. Lately, I've been dating older and fucking younger, if you understand what I mean. Wouldn't it be lovely to make a beautiful young Olympian my latest conquest? Well, a lovely daydream anyway...
The girls chorused into the microphone: "Thank you, Vancouver! Merci Canada! Bonne chance a tous!" As everyone clapped, they filed down the stairs at the front of the stage, teetering enticingly in their high heels. The waiters began to bring bread baskets and salads. I sipped my water. There were over 500 people here and I wasn't in charge of the assigned seating, so who knew where Nathalie would...
Wait a minute. As Denise and Catherine peeled off to other tables, Nathalie was coming straight toward me. With a dazzling smile, she came up and placed her hand on my bare shoulder.
"Excuse me, I believe that I am sitting next to you?" Nathalie said.
I returned her smile. "Let me just move my handbag," I said. She slid in next to me, our thighs brushing. She turned to the Asian real estate agent on her other side and politely introduced herself with a handshake before turning right back to me. "I'm Nathalie, and you are...?"
"Frederika. I'm with the hospital. We emailed about you attending."
"Oh!" Her eyes lit up. "It is so wonderful that now we meet at last night." She hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks without reserve. She was wearing a lilac scent and her hair was almost as her lips. I held on to our embrace a little longer than necessary, enjoying her firm curves.
Nathalie nibbled on her salad as they poured the water. "May I say that you look magnificent tonight, Frederika?"
"Why, thank you. It's a new gown." And it was. Black velvet, shoulderless, low-cut with straps at the back, custom-made by a new dressmaker who had just opened up near Pike Place Market. It showed off my amazing cleavage as much as possible, barely within the bounds of propriety.
"I like very much your earrings as well," Nathalie said. She artlessly reached up and touched one of the large gold hoops.
Before Nathalie's arrival, I'd been the subject of many lustful glances from my tablemates. Now I could see everyone envying my very natural interaction with this 24-year-old girl. At the neighboring table, envy showed in the eyes of two of my lesbian colleagues. I enjoyed having what they couldn't have. Just that thought alone was making me hot.
I touched Nathalie's thigh with my hand. "Who did your makeup tonight? You and your sisters all look fabulous."
"We did each other," Nathalie said with a smile. "We always do. It's more simple, you know?"
"I understand perfectly." The image of the three girls applying one another's eye shadow and lipstick held immense appeal for me.
We continued to converse, completely ignoring our tablemates as course after course arrived. Nathalie occasionally got a text message and exclaimed, "Oh, pardon! I must answer!", which was a tad distracting but understandable in a girl her age.
She mentioned her family always went sailing in the summer, and I told her about my love of fishing trips.
Nathalie told me that I reminded her of Shannon, the freestyle ski team's longtime masseuse, who had unfortunately had to return to Ireland in the summer when her work permit expired.
"We have now a new masseuse, but she's not so good as Shannon. With Shannon we were very close. She even taught us to do massage because we thought it's not fair she always massages us and we don't help her, you know? So we all three gave her a massage sometimes," said Nathalie with a giggle.
"How very lucky for Shannon," I said knowingly. "I wish I had three lovely masseuses like you girls to give me a rub when my back gets stiff." My pussy was throbbing at the thought.
In an interesting coincidence, Nathalie told me that she, Denise, and Catherine had been doing dry-land training in the summer in Seattle at Argo Fitness. "Really?" I exclaimed. "That's where my personal trainer is based."
"Is she named Rebecca?"
"Why, yes, she is."
