To outward appearances Alan and Vivienne were a fairly ordinary couple in their late fifties. They had married young, just after they had left college, and with the help of their parents had bought a small semi in a nice area of Chichester. Within a couple of years their first child was born, a girl, followed by a boy three years later. Alan had done well in his career, and even though Vivienne had given up work for several years to concentrate on bringing up the children, they were able to move to a much larger detached house a few miles away in a village in the New Forest.
Both children had done well at school and college, and were fortunate to find good jobs in London soon after graduating, unlike some of their peers. After so many years when the house always seems to be full of other people's children, they found the unaccustomed silence once the children had left home rather unnerving, although both would often come home for weekends and mum's cooking, often bringing a friend with them.
Even so, they both found that time could weigh heavy, and decided that they needed to find some activity to fill the void left by their children's departure. Alan had always had a reasonable voice, so he joined a local choir, whilst Vivienne became involved with the local branch of the Women's Institute. They had had a fairly unexciting, but entirely satisfactory sex life, although the presence of children in the house had limited their activities somewhat. Once the children had left home, however, they started to become a little more adventurous, making love in what they considered to be unusual places, and sometimes going around the house in the nude.
Alan had always bought one or two top shelf magazines, and Vivienne found that she enjoyed reading some of the raunchy stories, and even looking at the pictures of scantily clad and naked girls. The Internet allowed them to take this interest in erotica and mild pornography further, and some evenings when they were feeling particularly horny they would browse together, often commenting out loud on their responses to the pictures or videos they were watching. This had the effect of increasing their joint arousal, and their subsequent lovemaking was always more intense, and they would often have several orgasms before falling asleep in each other's arms. They also discovered that they enjoyed watching each other masturbate, and they bought a few sex toys online, including a couple of dildos and his and hers vibrators.
Like many men, Alan found that he was attracted to images and videos of two women having sex, or two women with one man. Vivienne, on the other hand was particularly fascinated by what she learned was called CFNM for short - clothed female and naked male - and she often fantasised what it would be like to enjoy an evening playing with a sexually aroused naked man in company with a few of her close female friends. These were just fantasies, however, and for many years neither had any intention of bringing them about.
For several years Vivienne and five of her closest friends from the Women's Institute had got into the habit on a Friday of having lunch at one or other of their homes, taking it in turns to act as hostess. They discussed what to call themselves, and after weighing up several suggestions, decided it would be fun to call themselves The Spice Girls after the 1990s all-girl pop group. On those occasions when Alan wasn't at work, he would find an excuse to be out of the house when it was Vivienne's turn to be hostess, saying that he felt rather outnumbered, however delightful the company.
Friday evenings were Alan's choir nights, and sometimes he would be away from Friday to Sunday, when the choir was taking part in one or other music festival in another part of the country. Vivienne used to tease him about all the pretty ladies in the choir, telling him to make sure he behaved himself with all those predatory females, to which he responded that he was more likely to be found propping up the bar discussing sport with the rest of the men, and anyway most of the women were far too old, and generally overweight into the bargain.
One Monday morning in early August, Vivienne asked Alan if he would like to to join them for lunch the following Friday at her friend Sylvia's house. She told him that it would be the usual crowd, but that a few of the other husbands had also been invited. Not wanting to be a spoilsport Alan agreed, thinking that at least with a few men there he wouldn't be too bored, and that perhaps the men could escape to another part of the house for a drink or two and proper men's conversation. A lunchtime listening to gossip about the latest fashions or the escapades of minor Royals definitely not being his idea of fun.
Vivienne had always dressed smartly for these lunches, but of late her costume has become more sexy and provocative, but Alan assumed that this was just because she liked to show off a little, especially the way that she had kept much of her youthful figure, mainly through careful attention to her diet and regular sessions at the local tennis club. On the Thursday evening, Vivienne told Alan that she wasn't going to allow him to let her down and that she would choose what he should wear the next day, and that he was definitely not going to get away with his usual jeans and a sweat shirt.
The following morning Alan pottered around the garden, deadheading the roses and dealing with the crop of weeds that always sprang up when his back was turned. He had lost count of time when he heard Vivienne shouting to him out of the bedroom window, "Alan, it's nearly a quarter past twelve, and we have to be round at Sylvia's in just over half an hour, get up here now and change."
Grumbling mildly under his breath, Alan dropped what he was doing and made his way up to the bedroom. Vivienne was sitting at the dressing table applying her make-up, dressed in a pale cream basque which he hadn't seen before. In the mirror, he could clearly see her dark areolae, and her prominent nipples, barely concealed by the lacy cups of her bra which made him raise his eyebrows in surprise.
"You will find your trousers and shirt on the bed, my dear," she said, "but leave your underpants off, there is nothing worse than visible panty line," and she giggled.
