Welcome Back, Frank! Ch. 02-03

Frank reluctantly broke the physical contact once more and rose to get the jacuzzi going. Whether Kim realized it or not, she was efficiently and scientifically setting a realistic pace for Frank, whose appetite for her would otherwise race away from his ability to control it. Maybe she had smelt the stink of prison on him; maybe she was just instinctively reacting to his massively uncontrolled ejaculations. Whatever: in a more sober and reflective frame of mind Kim and Frank lowered themselves into the agitated water and submitted to the jets from the various nozzles around the tub.

This sensation was, however, just as stimulating in its own way as their mutual - manual - stimulation had been in the shower. Kim and Frank quickly found that these purely mechanical devices, playing relentlessly on their already acutely primed bodies was amply capable of exciting them both again. Soon they were embracing. Then kissing. Then caressing each other.

What Julie was doing to Charlie in the other room could not be described, anywhere outside cheap romantic novels, as 'caressing'. 'Devouring' would be nearer the truth; 'raping' would hardly be an exaggeration. She had finally lost patience with his dilatory tactics in trying to moderate her randiness. Succumbing to her own voracious sexual needs, she had taken the initiative and now was both directing and stage-managing events - what in the old days used to be called 'bossing the fuck'.

On top now, in more ways than one, Julie had already two or three times drawn Charlie - and his willing dick - up to a screamingly pre-orgasmic pitch of excitement. Knowing him well, she could pick the exact fraction of a second before he lost control of his come. As a skilled practitioner of the female sexual arts, she always withdrew, at that precise microsecond, whatever form of stimulation she had used to get him there.

Charlie was alternately loving it and chewing the bed sheet in agonized frustration. He had to hand it to Julie: she really knew what she was doing. But it wasn't fair on him, he felt. After all, she'd already got off watching Kim and Frank; he was way behind her - and aching for release. Surely she owed him one. His eyes, screwed shut in helpless contemplation of Julie's relentless assault on his cock, abruptly sprang open as he felt her, without warning, grasp his redly inflamed and tender organ and slide it smoothly straight up into her pussy in one easy, wet thrust.

Julie had decided it was time for the end game. She was ready for it and she was damned sure Charlie was; she had seen to it he would be gagging for it by now. She'd had her fun; now it was time for the payoff. What some people jokingly called 'foreplay' was over. This was going to be 'fiveplay' - anywhere up to 'tenplay', if she had anything to do with it. She knew it wouldn't take long, for either of them. But, still in charge, by leaning slightly forward, she restricted the movement of Charlie's cock inside her by muscular control. For a moment, Charlie thought she had found another way to prevent him coming and almost panicked. But it was just another momentary device from his control freak girlfriend.

At last, the strong oscillation of her pelvis, as she fucked the helpless man lying beneath her, jerked to a sudden stop. Charlie began to hear those little noises she always made at these times. There was a second or two of complete immobility as Julie's orgasm finally crested. Then, with one long continuous loud moan, she took her long-awaited pleasure, at the same time releasing Charlie's cock in its wet prison, allowing the sperm to burst free and spurt powerfully up inside her, complementing her own blissful release with copious extra lubrication, scalding hot and thick.

A minute later, even before they got their breath back, the apartment doorbell rang.

The bathroom scene, meanwhile, had been progressing at a more sedate pace, though to a similar end. What had started as tender exchanges of touch, had gradually become more demonstrative and more urgent. Kim, in her own way, had exercised just as much control over Frank as Julie over Charlie. But it had been a pleasanter experience for Frank. As they continued to play with each other's bodies, it became clear to them both that this time they would finally get to consummate their lust without interruption.

When Kim's little bottom began to move more insistently and erratically, Frank stopped stroking her sex, stood and lifted her bodily onto the straight side of the large spa. Hot water dripped down from her chin, over her adorable young breasts and onto her belly. She gently parted her legs, revealing to him again her aroused young slit, puffy with anticipation of his penetration.

Frank slid his prick immediately into her, at the same time vaguely aware of the apartment bell. This time, however, nothing was going to stop him. Finally, Kim's exquisite little pussy was his. As with Julie and Charlie, this coupling would be quick and deliriously satisfying. He looked down into Kim's face, turned away from him with her eyes closed, and in what seemed like just a few seconds, he felt his sperm rise from his balls. Clasping her closely to him, he gave himself up to it completely and, breathing one soft 'Aahh', with one reflex jerk of his hips that lodged his prick into her up to the pubic hairs, he shot his come deep into her throbbing cunt.

Despite his two previous enormous spendings, Frank could still feel his seed spurting hotly into her and, hugging her closely to him as his prick continued to throb wildly inside her little glove of flesh, he felt the throe repeat itself again and again. While still deeply embedded, and gently jerking his pelvis back and forth, he felt Kim echo his movements. Seconds later, with a little sob, she came, too, gently biting his arm as she did so and contracting her pussy muscles around his delighted prick.

They descended slowly from that peak of shared rapture, taking their time, as lucky lovers do after lust has been slaked, to enjoy the incomparable sensation of the penis lying quietly within the vagina, each of them warm and moist and totally satisfied. Nature, however, as it always does, brought the episode to a full stop. Frank's prick softened and slipped out and he got out of the jacuzzi and wrapped himself in a towel. Leaving Kim to dry her hair, he decided to see what was happening the apartment.

As he passed along the passageway he heard voices. Stepping into the diner area he was taken aback to see that two people had arrived. Obviously they were unknown to him but, presumably, not to Charlie, who was mixing drinks at the bar. He suddenly found himself in company, clad only in a towel. He excused himself.

"Hi, Frank," called Charlie. "Come and meet my friends."

He seemed too preoccupied, however, to introduce them at this time, continuing to prepare the martinis or the margaritas or whatever he was making at the bar. This left Frank, bewildered as ever, to assess the couple himself. The first thing he noticed, as he regarded them with interest, was that they were oddly matched - or rather not matched at all.

The young woman, in her late twenties, Frank guessed, was provocatively dressed in a very short skirt and a revealing top that left little to the imagination. She wore high heels and her legs were encased in the sheerest of black stockings. Her lipstick and other cosmetics were bright and obvious and her perfume had been lavishly applied. Her startlingly blonde hair was piled high on her head.

Her companion, if indeed he was her companion, was even more surprising, if less spectacular. Frank found himself looking at a Catholic priest, with high black boots and a full-length cassock, revealing a clerical collar around his neck and a pectoral cross dangling low on his chest.

Charlie finally made enough time to find his voice again: "Frank, this is Linda - and Matthew. Oh - excuse me, Father Matthew."

As Frank stepped forward to greet the two strangers, the doorbell rang again. Charlie, still up to his elbows in lemon, ice, frosted glasses and sugar, turned to him, asking, "Can you see who that is, Frankie?"

Frank went to the front door, forgetting he had still not dressed. But any embarrassment this might have caused him was suddenly to vanish into insignificance. He swung the front door open to reveal two police officers: one male sergeant, one female constable, both armed and both looking very much on official business. Frank had not been out of custody long enough to stop himself taking an involuntary step backwards. Just the sight of police can do that to you. They looked him up and down, as though standing in a doorway wearing only a towel were a federal offence.

Frank felt distinctly uncomfortable. He was certain that Charlie had blown it and dropped them both into deep poo. Kim was obviously under age and her parents had obviously sent the cops after her - and him and Charlie. The male officer was for the two of them, the female for Kim. He was stuffed; he'd be back in the slammer before nightfall.

Chapter 3: The Party Begins

Confronted by the two police officers at the apartment door, Frank knew that his brief taste of freedom was over. They'd nail him for corruption of a minor, or indecent assault, or unlawful carnal knowledge - or anything else they could drag out of the statute book. His sex dream of the last two hours or so with Kim was now nothing more than a glorious memory - but one he'd keep forever.

Faced with the prospect of his imminent arrest, he subsided against the wall just inside the door and turned his head resignedly to look at the police once more. The male officer addressed him.

"Your name Frank?" asked the sergeant, in that tone of cold formality for which they are famous.

"Yeah," drawled Frank, nodding his head wearily.

Then a pause, until the policewoman asked, in a similar tone, "So where's Charlie?"

Frank nodded down the hallway. "Through there," he added, dejectedly.

Without saying another word, the cops pushed past him and set off down the passage, leaving Frank slumped against the wall. Which, he thought, was odd: not what he was anticipating. He called after them, speaking to their retreating uniformed arses.

"What's gonna happen to Kim?"he enquired, raising his voice to reach them before they turned the corner out of sight.

The female officer stopped, turned and replied, simply, "Who?" before turning back to follow her sergeant towards the kitchen-diner.

Again, Frank was totally unable to grasp what was happening to him. Ever since he had been released from jail, nothing seemed to be going according to his expectations - the good bits or the bad. Maybe if was the scotch: maybe he'd taken too much of it, too fast. Or maybe, in one of those titanic come explosions he'd experienced with Kim, he'd shot his brains through the hole in his dick, too. After briefly contemplating making a run for it - an idea he quickly dismissed, considering he was wearing only a towel -he shook his head to try to focus his mind, closed the apartment door again and returned down the hallway.

He wanted to know what was about to happen to Charlie, but needed to get some clothes on fast. Back in the bedroom he dressed quickly, his mind racing to make sense of any of this day. When fully clothed again, he picked up Kim's discarded 'school uniform' and bag and headed first for the bathroom, where she was still drying her hair. He managed to leave her gear with her, not trying to explain anything that was going on elsewhere in the apartment; since he couldn't explain it, there was no point trying to tell Kim.

On reaching the living-dining area again, Frank was surprised - yet again, but by now he was beginning to get used to that - to find Charlie and the two police officers sharing drinks and jokes, laughing together like old friends. Glancing across to the other couple, the ill-assorted priest-and-slut combination, Frank noted that they, too, were enjoying drinks and each other's company, while not quite being part of the separate police scene. Frank's look passed from one group to the other and back again several times, before mentally giving up. Defeated, he called to Charlie, who broke off his conversation with the representatives of justice and turned to him questioningly.

"Frankie?"Charlie enquired.

"I need a word," said Frank. "In private?" he added, nodding his head towards the door.

Charlie, registering his friend's bewilderment, excused himself from the two cops and followed Frank into the main bedroom, a slight smile playing round his lips. When he got there, Frank closed the door firmly and turned to him.

"Charlie, what the fuck is going on here?"

Charlie, a picture of transparency and openness, told him, "We're having a party, Frank. In honour of your return to the world. Trust me, it's going to be a lot of fun."

"But the police ...?" Frank prompted.

"Police?" Charlie appeared momentarily disorientated; then light seemed to dawn. "Oh, you mean Nancy and Jack. I've known them for years. They're not police," he added reassuringly.

"But then why ...? Frank was about to continue when Charlie interrupted him.

"And, come to that, Matt's not a priest, nor Linda a slut - well, depends what you mean by slut, I suppose, but ..."

"Then why are they here?" Frank persisted.

"Like I said, it's a party." Charlie looked at Frank's exasperated face and decided the time for teasing was over. "OK, it's a special kind of party. Matt, Lin, Jack and Nancy are all members of this club. Half a dozen more will be here soon," he said, consulting his watch.

"Club?" asked Frank. "What sort of club? What do they do in this club?"

"Fuck," replied Charlie.

His one-word response put an instant stop to Frank's questions. He was stunned for a few seconds. Charlie proceeded to explain.

"This club has about twenty or thirty members, all up, including the small group today. They're all normal, horny people, who happen to be sexual exhibitionists - and who love to be able to display their sexual talents. The club offers them the opportunity to, shall we say, indulge their hobby. For this reason, they like to dress for the part, which also appeals a lot to the punters."

"Punters?" murmured Frank, finally able to speak again.

"People who love to watch the people who love to display," explained Charlie simply. "And the punters pay handsomely for the privilege. Today there'll be about ten or so. They've already met all the costs of this apartment. And they'll start to arrive in ..." here he looked again at his watch, "... about an hour."

Frank looked around the bedroom again and recalled the apartment's other opulent features. "But it must have cost them a packet ..." he started to say.

Charlie tapped his finger twice against his nose, the historical and international symbol indicating the 'commercial in confidence' nature of his information. It wasn't necessary for Frank to be fully informed of the bookkeeping details. But he did elaborate slightly.

"They can well afford it," he admitted. "And, believe me, they get their money's worth. Like I said, it's going to be a lot of fun. Something like this has been going on in dozens of cities in Europe and elsewhere for decades. Not exactly like this club but on nightclub premises to which the public are invited - for an entrance fee - to watch. The 'demonstrators' pay, too, but nothing like as much."

Frank grinned at Charlie, partly out of relief at finally rationalizing his bewilderment, partly at the sheer scale of the 'club' operation. He slowly shook his head in admiration of all the organization that must have gone into it. As he did so, he noticed something which he had earlier assumed to be just part of the ceiling lighting. On closer examination, however, it turned out to be a tiny video camera, trained on the king-size bed. Frank's gaze flicked across the room, registering the location of several other such devices.

Charlie, following his eye lines, confirmed Frank's guess: "All areas are covered - in case there's not enough room for spectators, or just to help them make a decision about where they'd like to go next." Then, in answer to Frank's unspoken question, he added, "Follow me. Watch this."

He led Frank back to the living area, where the four early arrivals were still socializing. Charlie opened a panel Frank had not noticed on his earlier visits to the open plan room, to reveal a video wall, with about twenty screens, dimly revealing areas where the action would be taking place. Frank recognized his bedroom and the bathroom, where Kim was visible combing her hair, by now dry again. Some screens showed parts of the living area; the others he assumed to be the second bedroom.

"When it's all properly lit, anyone can watch from here - or join the fun 'on site'," said Charlie. Then he suddenly frowned, saying, "Which reminds me. Can you and Kim take a walk for an hour or so?" In anticipation of Frank's next question he pressed a C-note into his hand, adding, "We need to prepare your room. That OK with you?"

* * * * *

Over their free meal, Frank tried to bring Kim up to speed about the true purpose of the apartment, though he found the whole thing barely credible himself. Kim just listened open-mouthed. She had been involved with groups before but nothing this well organized or funded. Her curiosity was aroused; it would make a change for her to be a spectator, not just an escort chick.

When they let themselves back into the apartment the whole scene was totally transformed. Everywhere was now dimly lit; the lighting circuit for the whole place must have been on check, like a theatre stage. Also, there were now somewhere between twenty and thirty people there talking, drinking, smoking - possibly into recreational drugs, though that was not obvious. About half of them were wearing some kind of uniform; the other half were in plain, though expensive, clothes, several men in tuxedos, accompanied by elegant women in high fashion dresses. Throughout the apartment the sound system relayed music at low level, neutral but rhythmic and insistent.

Frank and Kim went to the bar, helped themselves to drinks and surveyed the strange gathering, trying to separate the guests from the performers. As well as the 'priest', the 'slut', the two 'police officers' and 'cheerleader' Julie, there were now a 'doctor' and a 'nurse', both in hospital whites and carrying medical accessories such as stethoscope and rubber gloves. Then there were two 'newly-weds' (the 'groom' in formal wedding suit and the 'bride', a stunning blonde, in full wedding dress, gloves and veil - 'the whole box and dice,' thought Frank). Next they noticed an 'airline stewardess' smartly and alluringly attired in full flight-deck uniform, with matching jacket and skirt, crisp shirt, neck scarf and sheer black stockings encasing her shapely legs. Finally there was a trim, fit and good-looking black athlete wearing track suit pants and a t-shirt that strikingly revealed the muscles of his chest and abdomen. During the past hour, Charlie had somehow joined the US Navy and was now every inch the 'sailor' on shore leave, looking for a good time - and knowing he was going to get it.

Some of the pairings were easy to pick, some less so; but, if they were all club members as Charlie had said, Frank predicted to himself that some would be 'swingers', changing partners later in the evening. Like Kim, he was curious to see how events would develop. How would the highly paying guests react to it all? They seemed no different from any group you would meet at an ordinary cocktail party, looking around at the apartment and at the performers with casual interest.

After another half hour or so, Charlie opened the video wall panel and threw a few switches, throwing light on the focuses of the main action, leaving the surrounding areas in relative dimness. This simple device allowed the guests to engage with each other discreetly, just out of the spotlights; it was a house rule, understood by all present, that no interaction with the performers was allowed.