Moonlight

"I'm not really into women..." Vera states in a breathy whisper.

"Shh... this isn't about being into women, this is about teasing the men enough to get their attention back and to let them know we are not jealous." I pinch the material or her blouse and her left nipple playfully causing her thighs to move together. "Your body doesn't care if I'm a woman."

"Apparently not, Connie." She rasps and lifts her whiskey to her mouth.

Grant is first to turn our way and his face betrays nothing but his eyes roam carefully over our hands and he rises and gestures to me to follow. We walk a short way toward the bar where he leans in closely enough for his breath to warm my ear as he speaks.

"I have no idea what to do now. I can't seem to discourage the girls and feel awful about Vera watching Ron flirt like that. Perhaps we should retire to the penthouse for some drinks on the deck?"

"Dear Grant, if you were trying to discourage the girls you would not have given them champagne."

He blushes furiously and shrugs, "I was attempting to be polite and play the host."

"You are doing so, very well. Why should you deny yourself a little bit of playful fun? The girls are having fun, Vera and I are not jealous. In fact, Vera finds Ron's enjoyment and discomfort quite fascinating. She said it was good to see him so relaxed. Those girls will tell this story for the next few months. You'll have a string of little sluts looking for free drinks in the fishbowl with the handsome owner. That's a good thing."

"I was hoping to spend more time with you, Connie." His eyes plead with mine. I raise my chin enough to prompt his gentlemanly kiss. He tastes strongly of man and heat. My tongue twists along his lips to part them and his own tongue enters my mouth gently. Pulling away, I smile and tell him, "The night is young. The moon is high and bright. There's more fun yet to be had this night..." and take his hand to lead him back to the booth.

Ron has joined Vera, they are laughing and chatting, the two girls sit closely, whispering and something about their body language tells me they are a little more than friends.

"Girls..." They raise their eyes to mine intrigued or cautious or both, "We're adjourning upstairs to Mr Reynolds penthouse. If you have friends you would like to rejoin, then thank you for your company this evening." Their faces seem to drop in unison, "or perhaps you would like to share the moonlight with us."

"The penthouse? Really? Awesome." Says the brunette, Tamara. Lisa for the most part just giggles and jiggles as they trip over themselves in haste to follow us to the elevator. Both girls watch the many eyes that follow them from the dancefloor with envy.

The elevator ride is one of the most awkward journeys I can remember ever taking. No-one speaks more loudly than at a whisper. Lisa and Tamara whisper. Ron and Vera whisper. Grant again whispers to me.

"I don't know what you've started, my new friend but I do like how I'm feeling. I haven't felt so alive in a long time."

"Rub and a tickle from a little girl half your age will do that for a man I've heard..."

"You're horrible. That's not what I meant."

"Grant dear, you've just let your inner slut rear its ugly head. That's good."

"More than that somehow. It's that I sort of understand Carol's actions now. I don't forgive them but I understand the feelings that someone's attention can give you."

"Hmm... Someone else is craving some attention from you."

"I know, I feel like I have drawn you away from your holiday and ignored you."

"Not me..."

"The girl, Lisa?"

"No, I think they are enjoying the notoriety and intrigue more than anything else. I mean Vera. She has quite a crush on you."

"Really. Well that's awkward."

"No, it's kind of cute. Let's face it you're a handsome man. Tall, dark, broody... There are entire bodice rippers written about men like you."

He blushes to his neck line, "What have you got in mind for upstairs? I feel like I've invited Puck into my life..."

"Do you trust me?"

"Does it matter?"

I laugh and everyone looks at me in the elevator.

"Private joke." I announce then more quietly whisper. "I am simply defining a template for you; showing you a safe way to enjoy yourself."

We remain silent for the rest of the journey back to the café foyer where we switch elevators and head upwards to the penthouse. I love the play of nervous energy flashing in the eyes within the small space. Turgid silence builds until it's shattered by a loud, "Ding" and the doors open into the foyer of the most beautiful space. The two girls gasp audibly and mumble, "Wow" and "Far out" and other contemporary appreciative noises.

A mahogany hall stand welcomes us into a tiled space that is bright and simple. From there, the floor opens to three fully glassed sides. The only solid wall is the back wall facing the island. Grant takes a remote control from the hall stand and presses some buttons to turn soft lighting on throughout the space and rooms are defined within the open plan. At the same time, a panel in the roof above slides open to reveal the full night sky. The moonlight fills the entire penthouse with a silvered hue and stars watch us trying to close our gaping mouths.

"Welcome friends." Grant's deep voice fills the awed silence.

"Ron, Vera, Lisa, Tamara..." They turn to my voice, "some simple ground rules if I may assist Mr Reynolds?"

"Certainly dear."

"Very well, first order of business; within the penthouse all mobile phones remain on the hall stand here. What happens in the penthouse remains in the penthouse. Nothing you see or do may be spoken of outside. Of course, there is no legal consequence for gossip but you would likely not find yourself re-invited. Questions?"

Shaking heads reply and phones are removed from pockets and placed on the hall stand. I volunteer my own and continue, "Obviously, in the fishbowl downstairs you may have taken some selfies and such and that is fine. Please however protect Mr Reynolds privacy."

Ron and Vera watch me dubiously, wondering what kind of horror they've signed up for and the two young girls have looks on their faces like back-stage groupies. For the most part Grant simply smiles and waits curious as to my direction.

"Secondly, within the penthouse your consent is considered given at all times. Obviously, there are things you may wish to participate in and those you do not. The onus is upon you to withdraw consent by saying 'no' or by simply leaving. Is that clear?"

More doubtful nods build depth to the suspense I am deliberately creating.

"Lastly, Mr Reynolds will now show you the facilities, features and any restricted private areas. If at any time during the evening you are asked to leave, please do so quietly without fuss. Thankyou." I wave an air hostess like hand at Grant and picking up my queue he leads his guests around the penthouse.

Ron and Vera hang back a little as grant takes a young girl on either arm and promenades through his lavish abode. "You know," I speak quietly and directly between them where they hold hands, "I was speaking for the benefit of the girls. The rules are just to keep us all safe."

"Figured so," nods Vera. Ron is too distracted by the wiggling bums of the girls in front to truly listen.

We follow on carpeted footsteps through a slate and granite kitchen from which one looks out across the ocean in the centre of the living space, and listen as Grant speaks humbly of this architectural masterpiece leading us finally through the glass doors onto the deck which skirts the whole floor on the ocean side. There is a hot tub beside a pool and a small bar where he now leads us. Pressing more keys on his remote, blue light fills the pool and small white party lights illuminate the bar area. The deck is paved with dark granite and appears as if an extension of the ink black ocean that stretches away into the night.

A moonlit pathway ripples on the undulating black ocean and beckons the gods and angels, devils and demons alike to cross the horizon from the moon's resting place to join us beneath the stars. Perhaps it is a devil now which prompts my wicked thoughts.

"Vera, I was distracted dear, can you show me where the toilets were please?"

I piss first. Loudly, into the bowl I spill my bladder all the while trying to plot a way to what I want which is the singular problem. What is it I want? Ordinarily, I just want to get my rocks off but this evening I have adopted mother/slut. I want to nurture and guide these people into their own slutty messes while simultaneously sating my own strangely dry depths. "Connie dear," my inner voice declares, "You are thinking too hard and fucking too little."

"Connie, I'm a bit scared. What if Ronny fucks one of those girls out there?"

"Hmm... How would that make you feel?"

"A bit scared actually, what if he left me for her?"

"Do you seriously think he would leave you for some bimbo that fucked him at a night club?"

"No... but you know. What if he wanted more than me. I'm not as..."

"God Vera. Neither am I. I'm not twenty with a pert rack and an impossible ass. I don't giggle and simper and look like something from college. But hey, how do you think Ron feels when they do that for him? How good do you think he feels for a little moment in time?"

"Oh, I bet the dirty dog just laps it straight fucking up. I bet it makes him harder than he's been for me since the kids were born." There is a growl in her voice that sounds like a mother bear protecting her den. I let her rest on that while I dab at myself.

Then I flush and ask, "Do you like him to feel good like that? Would you like to feel like that?"

"I'd like him to look at me like he used to when we first got together. I would love him to see me first when we walk in a room..." There is a sob at the end of it. A single sob that sounds quite stifled.

"So... flip that over darling. Do you think he would like you to look at him like that too?"

"Fuck you Connie. Fuck you a lot. Why are you fucking with our lives like this?"

"Dear Vera, I am the quintessential antagonistic thorn. Ultimately, I'm using you for my pleasure but in the mix, I am trying to forgive myself for it by leaving you improved for the process."

"I have no fucking idea what that bullshit means. I just want my husband to want me like he wants those fucking bimbos out there with the big perky 'sit on their collar bones' tits and their fluttering eyes." She is really crying now. I feel a pang of guilt. Fleetingly...

"Vera is short for something isn't it?"

"Veronica Louise originally Scott, now Reynolds."

"Who was Veronica Scott? Would she be worrying about whether Ron fucks some bimbo or would she be busy trying to find someone who wanted her like she needs to be wanted?"

"Veronica Scott would have bitch slapped those ho's and fucked whoever she wanted. She probably would have grabbed Grant by the dick and sucked it while Ronny cried in the corner."

"Then let's bring Veronica Scott to the party, shall we?"

"I don't know if she even exists anymore."

"She does. She just doesn't know it. Now listen carefully because I need to challenge you... Who was Ron before he met you?"

The toilet room is silent for very long minutes until I decide she has left and I exit to wash my hands. I find her resting against the sink with a very relaxed and smug look upon her coquettish face. She grabs me by the blouse and pulls me to her and surprises me with a warm wet tongueless kiss right upon the lips.

"Connie, you are the smartest... 'slut' I have ever known. I want that stupid asshole out there to feel as bloody good as I can possibly make him feel. I just don't want to lose him."

"Darling by hanging on too tight we do."

"So, what do I do?"

"Go piss, clearly. You're not in here for Hors d'oeuvre's." I wash my hands of my iniquities and beg forgiveness for the journey upon which I set this soul.

"Connie?"

"Hmmm."

"Ronny was a jock. He played the field a whole lot." She tells me from behind toilet door. Perhaps the door offers her a buffer for judgement because she unloads upon me like an Ipecac fuelled purge.

"He only went out with me because my parents asked him to take me to the grad dinner. He had three girlfriends at the time. I can't compete with that. I was never, you know, 'pretty' or 'cool' or whatever."

"But he stuck with you why?"

"Because I loved him I guess. Because he liked me too?"

"Fuck if I had three girlfriends I'd have to find you pretty fucking awesome to ditch them."

"Well... he, they... were casual things you know. At least he said they were just casual. I always wondered."

"Vera... What would make a man pick you over three other women?"

"God, I just don't know. That's the problem."

"Well let me solve it for you. 'Love'. He loved you. Like he still does now. Hey, If you fucked Grant right here, right now, would you stop loving Ron?"

"Fuck no. I just want to jump that Antonio Banderas looking mother-fucker. I don't want to lose my family. I don't want to lose Ron or the kids. I just want that dreamy looking bastard to stick his cock in me."

"So how do you think Ron feels about those two little nymphettes out there?"

"Bitch."

"Haha."

"I get it. I fucking get it. I just, it's just a big step. You just can't 'un-fuck' somebody if you think it's a mistake later."

She washes her hands thoughtfully beside me, her brow is darkened with her worries. I'm hesitant to provoke her with further prompting, she needs to make her own way now into this mischief.

"What are you looking for?" I ask. She's scrabbling in Grant's bathroom cupboards almost frantically.

"Mmm. Just seeing... Uh huh." From a drawer, she produces a box of condoms and puts it in her handbag then stands to inspect herself in the mirror. Turning this way and that, raising her chin, smiling and finally putting her hair back in a high pony tail.

"You know," she says, "-when I was a teenager my neck just started growing. School girls were really cruel about it back then. Used to call me all sorts of names. I don't like lots of parts of my adult body, I suppose the same as many women, but I do like my neck."

In appreciation, I run the back of my fingers briefly along her neck. It is quite long and striking, but not disproportionate. Without further ado, she smiles and pecks me on the cheek then strides confidently across the carpet to the bar outside.

Grant has taken position behind the bar and the girls flank Ron sipping cocktails and giggling vacuously at droll brags and witticisms. As we approach Ron's hand is on Tamara's waist and Vera smiles as she sees it drop lower to the young girl's butt. She nudges me with her elbow then clears her throat.

"Ahem..." Ron's hand flings off the girl and he jumps in his stool. "Ronny, can I see you privately for a moment honey."

"Uh, sure." He nervously shuffles off to speak in low tones with Vera who I see press something into his hands. Ron looks at the item and his jaw drops. Vera holds his eyes as she speaks, pointedly tapping a bladed hand into a flattened palm. The animated conversation seems to end with Ron nodding a lot and Vera drawing him close for an intimate kiss and embrace. They then break apart and smiling re-join us at the bar.

Grant has furnished me with what he calls a 'Blue Lagoon'. It's a long glass with ice and I discover it's sweet but with enough citrus flavour to take the stickiness from one's mouth.

"Honey why don't you take the young ladies and show them Grants hot tub?" Vera suggests.

Ron and Tamara are off their stools with embarrassing impatience. Lisa rises and follows them along the dark deck to the round raised section at the end of the pool. Grant, Vera and I watch as the girls strip shamelessly and swiftly slide beneath the roiling water. Ron struggles awkwardly with his pants and finally drops them to the deck beside his shirt and enters the tub wearing his y-fronts.

"Are you sure Vera?" I ask and she nods in reply.

"I told him he had a one-night hall pass. That whatever happens in the penthouse stays in the penthouse."

Grant stares at Vera perhaps a moment too long with one eye-brow raised then with a discreet nod that suggests he approves or understands he takes the remote again and turns some soft music on. Enigma or some equally ignorable but pleasantly ambient tones drift into the warm summer night from hidden speakers.

"Is the pool heated?" I suggest, "I'd love a dip. It would wake me up a little I think."

"Yes, it is. Eighteen degrees all year round. Cool but not cold. It was set originally at twenty-five but I found that quite exhausting when I exercised. Um... Carol may have left some swimwear in the robe room if you wish."

"You're a lovely man Grant but we're all friends I think. Join me Vera?"

"Um... Fuck it. Ok." I take her hand and lead her to the poolside where I turn her to face Grant and slowly undress her. I undo the buttons up the front of her blouse and I can feel her shake nervously as each one pops open then I pull back the blouse from her neck and slide it off her arms. She stands proudly, breathing deeply. Her breasts are heavy and full, still trapped in her black lacy bra. Her skirt zips at the rear and she gasps as I pull it down over her hips to expose a matching lacy black thong.

Grant sips his cocktail and his eyes dance appreciatively over Vera's body as I display it to him like goods in a store window.

"My turn." Vera turns around to face me and she slips my sarong from my shoulders to fall in a heap of the floor.

Underneath I wear a black swimsuit but that's not really in the spirit of the moment so I suggest, "Continue darling." Her fingers tentatively tease beneath the shoulder straps and pull them down my arms until my breasts pop free. Vera jumps back a little and giggles then pushes my suit down over my hips and squats to pull it free of my ankles. I feel her eyes burn on my skin as she straightens up.

"You are pretty when you're naked," she blushes, "-so confident. I am not so well kept I'm afraid."

"Nonsense Vera darling. You have lovely breasts, I'd kill for girls that shape and size. Now turn around, let's get them out."

She turns to face Grant again and raises her hands in the air like a baby getting dressed. With a quiet snap, the bra releases behind her and I pull it forward to slide down arms that she drops to her side.

"Oh..." she moans as I cup her glorious breasts and weigh them, not just for my benefit but mostly to show their weight and shape and sheer perky loveliness to Grant whose dark eyes are saucer-like at the bar. My warm hands slide down her sides over a lovely little waist and take her thong by the straps at her gently rounded hips and pull it tantalisingly slowly down her thighs, teasing it away from her and unveiling her pussy inch by inch to a fascinated Grant.

As she steps and turns to lift her feet from her thong I get a heady whiff of her arousal. The poor girl must be sopping. I wonder if Grant can smell it from the bar. Her pubic hair is wild and coarse, though blonde, it's darker as it dips to her wet centre. Nipples of rose pink crown her breasts and peak, hard in the tropical air.

"Come on, enough showing off Veronica Scott. Last one in..."

"I wasn't showing - aargh." She screams as I splash a little water on her then turn to stroke to the other end of the pool where I lean my elbows onto the tiled edge and try to eavesdrop on the threesome in the hot tub just a few metres away. Vera joins me, breast stroking gracefully up beside me.

"Shh... Sounds like they're having fun." I whisper.

"Hmm." She sounds non-committal. Perhaps she is struggling with jealousy. "Where's the brown haired one?"