Nightsong Ch. 01

(c) EarthSeaSky

It had been a long hard day at the office. In fact, it had been a long hard week of haggling over a building contract. That evening, Ann sat opposite me across our small dining table as we finished off the last of her home made apple pie. The tang of cinnamon and cloves did wonderful things for me. She topped our glasses with the Merlot.

"Thanks honey, did I ever tell you that your cooking is even better than my mum's?" I schmoozed.

Ann considered me over the rim of her glass, "Of course it is, otherwise you would never have left home ... my mother always told me that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. What she forgot to mention was, how much fun it can be getting there," she chuckled.

"Hmm, I'll drink to that," I grinned at her innuendo.

"Fay called this afternoon...she and John have invited us to meet them for a night on the town, tomorrow. We would meet as usual at the Black Opal for drinks and a few dances and later, if we felt like it, move on to some other stylish place they visited recently, what do you think?"

"Sounds fine, except for the drive ... you know what North Sydney is like on a Saturday night," I said.

"No worries...they are leaving their car at home and suggested we do the same."

"That's the best suggestion I've heard all week, but I never thought I'd hear that from John ... He goes nowhere without his Beamer," I said.

Ann skipped happily towards the phone, "OK, I'll call Fay to count us in."

And so it was that we met at our favorite haunt the following night.

John and I have known each other since we were kids at school, where each of us had acquired a kind of hero status amongst our classmates for jacking off during French. For our checkered history of misdemeanors, we had long been banned from sitting together. The principal had seated us at desks on opposite sides of the classroom.

We took fiendish delight in embarrassing our teacher, the cute and voluptuous Mlle. Lecocq, by pulling down hard on our exposed and raging erections, then letting them spring back up against the plywood bottom of our desks with a succession of resounding thwumps! and thwacks! From the depth of her scarlet flushes, it became evident that the young Mme. Lecocq must finally have guessed as to the type of percussive instruments being used to create the disturbance, and also, from our glazed expressions, those responsible for its emanation. Addressing me directly with only the hint of a smile, she had carried on regardless, "Marius n'est pas tres intelligent."

Some thirty years later we are just as horny as ever, and although neither of us have ever openly admitted it, we are each aware of how hot we are for each other's wives.

And as we sat at the bar openly admiring their fully mature figures and elegant dress, we also knew that our women were likewise attracted to both of us. Every once in a while a challenging glance was exchanged, our body language spoke of the chemistry that engulfs the four of us.

John and I had been sitting on our perches at the cocktail bar, chatting idly over our drinks for long enough to loosen up. Engaged in animated girl talk, Fay and Ann were comfortably out of earshot at a nearby table when Ann glanced up from her martini to catch John's ever roving eye. He was openly appraising her credentials in open-mouthed approval. She was used to this, and acknowledged his admiration with an "eat your heart out baby" smile. Provocatively, she puckered her lips to shape a wisp of a kiss that had both John and I plunging our hands into our pockets!

Ann stands a leggy 5ft 7", marginally taller than me. At forty-five, the arrogant thrust of her proud bare breasts accented by pert, pink nipples that are always erect, are two reasons why she's such fun to shower with. Her eyes are as warm and soft as her close quicksilver hairstyle that sparkles with vitality. There is about her a slight air of sexual modesty and shyness to set a man's loins afire.

Fay by contrast at 5ft 2", is a petite green-eyed, strawberry blonde blessed with a magnificent DD bust and all the sexual assurance that such assets confer upon a woman. Her hair is long and she wears it loosely drawn up into a scroll on top. Her perfect legs excite speculation as to the ecstasy that might be found between them when they are locked around your neck.

Despite their appearances, Ann and Fay share a common heritage, both are English with a deep, rounded, mellow voice and tonal range - in itself an instrument of lust. Fay's slight London West End accent is pitched just slightly higher, yet melodious in extremis. Without ever having crossed the normal borders of conventional morality, we have shared many flirtatious evenings together and, on one such occasion after several drinks, Fay confided in front of us all that the first time she saw what John held in store for her, she cried, "My god! You're not putting that thing in me!" Thereafter Ann would sometimes pay him tribute and refer to him deferentially as, 'Big Bad John'. The girls would laugh and giggle and wiggle their tits at him, and we would all get horny, especially Ann.

The evening was moving along nicely. More couples and singles were arriving as the black band began to play with passion. Ann wore a backless electric-blue, three quarter length dress, sheer black stockings and silver stilettos. We had a few more rounds of drinks that really set us rolling. Ann could scarcely conceal her fascination with the bare chested, black lead drummer, and the power bulge at the crotch of his tight black leather pants. Sensing her gaze he looked up suddenly and flashed her an appraising smile. Ann acknowledged him as demurely as she could, all that was left of the lady in her, blushed!

In layered Cockney, Fay teased, "Hmm, cutie isn't he luv?"

Laser light beams cast shards of luminescent color on the dancers and the female vocalist was singing Gloria. Fay and I locked eyes and my heart reset its rhythm to the beat. I slid off my stool and led her to the dance floor. She wore a black silk sheath dress split one side to the hip, sheer silk stockings and black stilettos. A large greenish colored stone set in a silver band encircled her neck. The total effect was stunning. Savoring her scent I took and held her close. She pressed her swollen tits into me as our right legs brushed. We danced together and my rock hard cock kept bumping against her thigh. Melded thus she raised her eyes to mine and in each other we recognized a wanton, insatiable lust. The black drummer quickened his beat. Her lips parted as we kissed, so gently at first. Our tongues tangoed, teased and tantalized as they savored the first of the other's juices.

The scene before us swirled and disintegrated into a strobe of frozen images. John and Ann in a kaleidoscope of laser light, her arms around his neck and his around her hips and shapely ass, teased and tormented her with his big bad John! They were all but oblivious of their unshared passion. I felt a sudden pang of jealousy and yet, I thought, why should I, as I held his woman closer.

"You love her very much, don't you Marius?" Fay's question spoken in my ear above the music caught me by surprise. She had read me like a neon sign.

"Indeed I do, just as much as you do John, and he does you - we've known you guys for a long time and we read your marriage as rock solid." Another disturbing strobe of Ann's bare back and John's broad, clasping hands arced at us across the floor.

"Exactly, and that's why I don't feel jealous about John flirting with Ann ... or for that matter, with anyone else he might get the hots for from time to time," Fay added in a matter of fact tone.

"Aren't you afraid that one day one or both of you might take it a bit too far and blow yourselves apart?"

"Not at all" she continued, "so long as it's all open and above board, it has the effect of keeping us horny, and our sex life exciting and alive."

"And does John feel the same about your flirting?" I asked.

"What do you think!" she laughed mischievously as her hand slid deep into my trouser pocket to squeeze my raging erection through the lining. My groan was scarcely heard amid a crescendo of drums that brought the bracket to a close.

We all reached our table more or less together. Fay with a confiding look took Ann by the arm and led her towards the palm fringed, red carpeted foyer. John and I sat back on our stools, admiring their shapely butts as they strutted through the swinging glass doors to the ladies powder room. We looked at each other and grinned.

"My shout mate, so what'll it be old man?" asked John.

"Bloody old man yourself! A double cognac and no ice, seeing as you're paying for it, you crapped out old sleaze bag." In the idiom of Aussie mateship, such an exchange of insults between close mates is an indicator of the high esteem in which they hold each other, much in the way of mongrel dogs that sniff each other's butts - you've got to like each other a lot to do it without getting killed.

The barman set the drinks on the bar including fresh martinis for the girls which John had ordered. After a savoring moment John's blue-gray eyes leveled at me over his Scotch, "Quite a pair of hotties we landed ourselves, eh mate?"

"We sure did," I agreed, "and I guess the girls are probably saying much the same about us as they powder their pussies!" we laughed. The band started up again before John said, "Marius, when the girls get back and we wind it up here, how would you and Ann like to come along to a very private party with Fay and Me?" This was the second time during the course of the evening that I had been thrown an unexpected question. I just looked at him and said, "OK, give?"

"Well, a coupla weeks ago Fay and I were invited to a very friendly private party, nice guys, gorgeous women, about six or seven couples in all - a really wild night, we had a great time. I have an idea that you and Ann would love it."

"Hmm, sounds interesting, but I don't know whether Ann would think so."

"Well, I think Fay was going to sort that one out with her and speaking of she-devils, here they come now and by the look of the fresh war-paint, they're both ready to kill."

The girls sat down with us at the bar, laughing at the looks on our faces as they lifted their martinis and took a succession of seriously long sips. Ann and I read the look of nervous excitement written on each other's faces. She answered my inquiring look with a wry smile and a raising of her eyebrows in silent consent to do this night that which we both desired. Turning to John and Fay I said, "Well guys, looks as if we're going to your party."

Ann smiled provocatively, "Well darling, if you're happy to watch me make a complete slut of myself, then yes, let's do it!" John and I thrust our hands into our pockets to gather loose change and we all roared with laughter.

On downing our drinks I turned to John, "OK big boy, you know the way, so lead us into temptation and debauchery!" The girls just looked at each other and grimaced at my crassness.

John and Fay walked ahead through the foyer to the elevator. As we stood waiting Fay said suddenly, "Hang on a minute, I need to speak with the receptionist, won't be a minute," She dashed away. The desk was on the opposite side of the foyer. We made small talk as Fay spoke with the receptionist. She leaned towards him raising a cupped palm to the side of her mouth in a gesture of confidentiality as she kept nodding and glancing back towards the cabaret. The receptionist finally nodded and lifted the receiver of the house phone. Fay skipped back to us, just as the elevator doors slid open.

John and I simply looked at each other and shrugged as the girls entered the elevator. Neither of us could imagine what Fay had confided to the desk. Had my mind been less focused on my raging erection, I might then have asked why we were going up, instead of down, to catch a subway train to wherever it was we were going. All I was aware of as Ann linked her arm through mine was her heat and the scent of her arousal. The floor level indicator light rose at an alarming rate until it reached the top. A minute later we stepped out into at the hotel's heliport lounge in time to watch through the observation window the touch down of a Bell6 Dragonfly.

"Good bloody god mate, some fucking party, where the hell is it, Canberra?"

"Don't worry about it now, you can figure it later after you've met and been initiated into the group ... as I said mate, it's a private party."

All my notions as to what the word "initiation" could imply raised my levels yet again, as we scurried towards the chopper.