Author's Note: There may be one or two spelling and grammar errors (thanks to dyslexia) but I'm looking for an editor, volunteers welcome, but I wanted to get this next chapter up quickly. I hope you enjoy chapter 2. All comments welcome.
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It was Saturday. Melanie woke early, slipped out of bed quietly so as not to wake John, and tiptoed into the bathroom. She turned on the faucet over the bathtub and poured in a scoop of lavender bath salts from a glass jar on the shelf. She slipped out of her cotton night dress and reflected for a moment that she was going to have to find somewhere to buy more provocative night attire. There was a whole section on lingerie in A Comprehensive Manual to Sexual Practices and while some of the more extreme leather pieces were a little daunting, there seemed to be a lot that could be done with silk, lace and a hefty amount of underwire and whale bone.
For a brief moment Melanie wondered whether the women at the social club picnic had been serious about trying to steal John from her. Was it idle gossip and bravado or were they really going to try and seduce him? Then she considered her options. If she did nothing she could lose everything she loved. If she continued down her chosen path she would have a secure marriage and teach those gossips a lesson. And if it turned out to be nothing by idle talk, she would still come out on top and have learnt a few things along the way.
Opening up the cabinet under the sink she retrieved the small pink box that contained her razor, shaving brush and soap dish. Up until now she had only shaved her legs and under her arms if she was going out swimming or was wearing a cocktail dress. She had heard older women remark that shaving at all was a new fad and they didn't do it back in their day. But the ads in the magazines all said that it was the height of sophistication in Europe. Though there had been a teacher's assistant at college who had a conspiracy theory that even though shaving legs started during the war to save nylon from stockings to use in the war effort, it was now being made a necessity as a ploy to sell disposable razor blades. It was all about profit for big companies. Melanie couldn't find fault with that logic but she suspected that the woman in question was a communist sympathiser and so she had kept her at an arm's distance.
While the tumbling, bubbling sound of the bathtub filling up created a pleasant white noise, Melanie took a moment to take a good look at herself in the mirror before it was completely overcome with steam. Starting with her hand on her soft flat stomach, she slid downwards until she met her thick red bush, the same fiery colour as the hair on her head. Her bush stood out in stark contrast to the pale skin of her mons pubis and it spread down to cover her labia.
She ran her fingers through the thick curls, pulling at one part and patting another down flat. She considered what she had read in the manual about the shaving of pubic hair and wondered what it would feel like to be completely smooth. But that was a little too extreme for her to start with and she made up her mind to keep a neat triangle of flame red and shave her labia smooth.
Melanie ran the shaving brush under hot water and then lathered it up in the soap dish. As she applied the soft white foam she gave a shaky breath out as the soft bristles traced along her most sensitive area. The actual shaving was less enticing. It involved a lot of pulling of skin tight and bending over in contorted positions to make sure she got all the hair without cutting herself.
Once that was done the bath was ready. As she lowered herself down into the warm water she was unusually aware of her naked labia. As the lips of her pussy immersed themselves in the calming water Melanie took a small breath in. Once she was seated in the tub she lowered her hand down to feel the smooth folds of her skin.
She was not unfamiliar with self pleasure, she had tried it a few times but never felt it got her anywhere. She started lightly running the tips of her fingers up and down her smooth slit. She closed her eyes and let herself focus on the sensation. It wasn't too long before her breath began to quicken, her back arching a little as she explored further and deeper.
She would alternate rubbing her clit, now engorged, back and forth and then curling her middle finger around to dart in and out hooking her fingers around inside her tight cunt. Her mind drifted back to that afternoon she had given John her first blowjob and it was if she could feel his warm rod again. Moving faster now she arched her back further until she was almost out of the water, and raised her free hand up to her mouth where she bit down on her fist to muffle the moans and squeals she could feel fighting to escape her throat.
For what seemed an age, her right arm aching from its work, her legs pinned ridged at the edges of the tub, she felt that she was on the edge of a cliff and just needed the slightest push to fall over into blissful oblivion. Then, in the next second, she felt the rush come over her as she bucked her hips in the bath, water sloshing and spilling over the edge. She gripped her palm hard against her clit as wave after wave broke over her. Even with her fist in her mouth the room was filled with moans and grunts as she came over and over again.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Melanie sank back into the water and let her limbs float idly in the slowly undulating water. She hummed a little tune to herself and when she had calmed down she finished scrubbing and washing in her bath and then emerged from the water like Aphrodite from the sea's foam.
Patting herself dry with a large fluffy pink towel Melanie's mind drifted to the events of that evening. They were invited to a nineteen twenties themed charity gala. It was the talk of the town and anyone who had any social standing was invited. Needless to say the social club would be there and Melanie would have the chance to see if their scheming was all talk of if they intended to go through with their plan.
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John looked good in a suit. He had the kind of frame, broad shoulders and narrow waist, that clothes hang off in just the right way. Tonight he was wearing a light grey three piece suit with a wide striped maroon tie. In keeping with the nineteen twenties theme Melanie wore a cocktail dress of the era, black and silver with a diamond cut hem with matching black elbow length gloves and a silver choker sparkling with cubic zirconia.
The gala was being held at the River House. An old world hotel with a large art deco ball room that had been the inspiration for the nineteen twenties theme. The ball room had a large black and white diamond motif dancing space and a ring balcony that wrapped around the whole space. On the second story were small parlours and alcoves draped in black velvet curtains where guests could go to get away from the hustle and bustle of the gala and still look down on the festivities.
Walking into the ballroom John reached into his pocket to retrieve their invitation and an envelope containing their donation for the evening. He handed them off to a waiting hat check girl who added the envelope to a large lock box, and then they were free to take in the space and the other guests.
No one had spared the expense of dressing up. The room was awash with sharp suits and coloured dresses. John and Melanie were early but not too early. The fourteen piece big band was in full swing and couples were already taking up the main dance floor. Swing and Jazz were the order of the evening from the band in their white dinner jackets and black bow ties.
John waved at a few couples they knew but Melanie, keeping her arm linked through his, kept guiding him deeper into the ballroom until she found what she was looking for. Over by a potted fern, not too far away from the dance floor where the two of the women from the social club.
Melanie had a plan, though it did involve some risk. If she was going to find out if her marriage was really under attack she would have to take a chance and dangle John as bait. It would be just like one of John's fly fishing stories that he liked to tell when he had his friends over for cards.
Milly King had chosen a scarlet flapper dress with a long feather in a headband keeping her chestnut hair back and framing her face. Milly had an oval face that was cute in a girl next door fashion which belied the cruel streak which ran just under the surface. Her figure was soft all over without being fat, she had a large posterior and even larger breasts. Her dress hung onto these curves in all the right ways. In another life Milly could have been a Hollywood bombshell.
Constance Clarke wore a salmon floor length dress that was cut high up one leg. She had pinned her blond hair up in tight curls and wore a long string of pearls which threatened to disappear in her ample cleavage. Where Milly was soft Constance was toned. She had a strict exercise regime to keep her fit and looking good for her beauty pageants. Everything about Constance was effervescent and buoyant, from her smile to her personality to her breasts, which though not huge, were perfectly proportioned for her height and weight.
Upon seeing the couple Milly and Constance waved them over. Greetings and air kisses were exchanged as if they were all friends and nothing was afoot. Melanie wondered if she was overreacting to what she had heard at the picnic, the other two women seemed as pleasant as ever.
"So glad you could make it, you left the picnic so suddenly I thought something was wrong." Said Milly, her voice overly full of concern.
Melanie fought to keep her cool and not give anything away, "No everything is fine, I just had some errands to run."
What followed was a series of niceties and comments about the gala in general and how wonderful it was to be raising funds for a good cause.
"And where is your fiancé Milly?" Asked Melanie.
"Oh you know, off somewhere with the men. Smoking cigars on the balcony most likely."
Off to one side of the ballroom a large set of ornate glass double doors were pinned open to let guests out onto an expansive balcony that overlooked the river as it meandered its way past carrying a selection of river boats, their navigation lights twinkling in the inky darkness.
Constance was currently without a beau and so Melanie did her a kindness by not asking any probing questions.
Melanie waited until she saw a tray of drinks being ferried around the room and took this as an opportunity to leave the group for a moment.
"I'll just go and get us some champagne," She interjected into the conversation.
"Oh, what a good idea, I'll come too," Constance volunteered in a slightly vapid tone and took Melanie's arm in hers.
As they started to head off Melanie kept a sharp eye on the two other women which meant she saw the quickest of winks Constance gave Milly. It was so fleeting she almost thought she was imagining things. As Melanie let herself be steered away she made sure she could keep an eye on John and Milly.
Melanie couldn't make out what was being said by Milly but she could definitely see a change come over her. As soon as they were out of hearing range Milly became more flirtatious. She fixed her hair with a smile and let her hand drop to her bust and play with the strands of material that covered her dress. She pouted in mock sadness at something John had said and then placed her hand on his lapel as she responded. Finally she went up on the tips of her toes to whisper something into John's ear and she lingered there letting him feel her breath on his neck.
For his part John seemed a little rigid but kept a bright smile on his face. Melanie couldn't tell if he was genuinely responding to Milly's advances or if he was simply being polite in a situation he could not quickly back away from.
