Part One
This is a nice restaurant. Bob always brings me to nice restaurants. He likes me to get dressed up for them.
"Wear something pretty," he says. What he means is something expensive. He likes it when I wear something expensive. Not flashy though. "Quality shows" he says. I get my hair done by the most sought after salon, my nails and facials are done by the best. I wear perfumes that I don't think suit me because they are expensive.
Our sex life is, adequate. Bob is good at sex. He has read up on what women want, what they like. He goes down on me for the correct amount of time to mean that I cum quickly when he enters me. He doesn't do anything wrong. Sometimes he can get a second orgasm out of me if he positions himself just right. Bob watches me as I cum, eyes glowing, face smug. He sometimes says things like, "Come on, come on... there you go." Then he allows himself to cum. He grunts and pushes deep three times. Always three times. He never asks if I enjoyed it. He assumes that I enjoyed it. Bob likes to think of himself as a considerate lover. If asked he will say that he always puts the lady first.
I am so bored with Bob.
I want more. I want to be thrown onto the bed, underwear ripped off and fucked. I told Bob this and he laughed and said that we weren't living on a council estate.
I can't leave Bob. My parents adore him and when he has a couple of brandies and loosens up, he can be quite romantic. He will put his arm around me while we watch television. This life isn't too bad, I go to nice restaurants. Like this one.
We are having dinner with Dave and Carl, and their girlfriends. I have met Cara, Carl's girlfriend lots of times. She is a hairdresser, lovely girl, Bob thinks that we should become good friends. We are both excited to meet Dave's girlfriend. Carl gets on famously with her though Bob thoroughly disapproves of her. Carl says "Elle is Elle. I don't know what else to tell you. She is very much the opposite of Dave's last girlfriend." Bob says, "She is totally unladylike. She plays rugby for God's sake."
We are dying to meet her.
When we walk in, there are three men in suits and a woman in a very lovely dress that has obviously come from a market, but shows off the wearer beautifully, and it is not three men, but Dave, Carl and who I assume is Elle, wearing a pinstripe suit with a white shirt. chelsea boots and a loose tie. She has a brandy in one hand a cigar in a bandaged other and is open mouthed with laughter, head thrown back, long brown curls cascading down her back. I feel frumpy in my Laura Ashley knee length flowers and I redden. Bob notices and uses a single finger to lift my chin.
"Quality shows." he says.
Part Two
The meal was lovely. I had my usual salad, Carla opting for steak as "If Elle can have steak, then so can I." Elle has taken her jacket off and you can see a big bruise going from collar bone to shoulder. Everyone stares but she laughs it off.
"Look," she says, that deep honeyed voice of hers with the laugh on the edge of it gathering attention. "I know Dave is just furious with me for not wearing a dress, but the truth is that I was boxing the other day and I ended up sparring with Carter and we took it old school. That bastard is not as soft as he looks, so when I hit him in that barrel chest of his, I sprained my wrist. The bruising is from playing rugby at the weekend. Dave said I was not to get bruised so I could look ladylike but that isn't going to happen is it?"
Carl and Cara think this is the funniest thing ever. They accept her for who she is. Dave and Bob look absolutely incensed. Elle blows them both kisses before saying "Oh I love this song! Cara, come and dance with me." And leaving the table, they do exactly that. Elle has her in a hold as if she were a man, and Cara is loving it. They dance, twirling around tables like lovers. Ella dips her and with her hand on the small of Cara's back whispers something in her ear that makes her blush. The song ends and flushed, they return to the table. I want to know what was whispered. I want to be that close to someone, to feel the feel of their hand on the small of my back. To have a face that close to mine. Forbidden lips grazing my cheek as we dance slow.
Cara has stroked Carl on one side of his face before kissing him and turning back to her steak.
Part Three
After the meal, it is brandies on the big leather sofas in the lounge. This is traditionally the time that the men smoke cigars and the women have a chat together on a different table. Elle is having none of it. "Budge up" she says, purposefully sitting herself next to Bob and gesturing for me to sit opposite her. Carl and Cara are openly making out now and we are not mentioning it. Bob and David are looking at each other as if they don't know what they are going to do about their status quo being interrupted. I know Bob will need me on my knees when we get home to calm him, before he apologises for being so uncivilised and goes down on me to make up for it.
"I need to pee, and it is known the world over that girls cannot go to the toilet on our own. Come on." Elle holds out her hand for me to take, her jacket back on now, red lips turned upwards in a wry smile, hair wild, tie on the table, eyes slightly glazed from the brandy. She looks wanton, forbidden.
I am lost.
Under the disapproving glare of Bob and Dave, I take her hand and she doesn't let go as we head towards the toilets. Cara gets up to join us as we pass and Carl joins the other boys.
In the toilets, Cara disappears into a cubicle with a wink and Elle turns to me, strokes my hair, tells me I am beautiful, brings her face closer and closer, that smile on those lips parting slightly. Her breath is brandy and cigar smoke and I close my eyes so that it may imprint more strongly on my memory.
It is inevitable. We kiss, hesitantly on my part at first, her letting me set the pace, then searchingly, hungrily, my hands in her hair, my entire body against hers, wanting to meld into her as I feel something igniting that will now not be quenched. That kiss. She grabs my ass and lifts me slightly, parting my legs with hers and lays her thigh between them. The ribbon is out of my hair and she is applying pressure with her thigh. My breathing is quicker and I am moaning into her mouth, For a moment I worry about Cara coming out of the cubicle and catching us then in that moment I realise that this whole thing, the dance, the coming to the toilets as a threesome has all been for me, and that Cara has been in on it. I mentally make a note to thank her later and turn my attention back to my now dripping wet cunt and the throbbing build up of my orgasm.
Elle lifts her thigh gently up and down and while she does so, she whispers in my ear. I don't know if it is the sensation of her breath in my ear or that she says "I want to fuck you so fucking badly" that does it, but I am cumming harder than I ever have under Bob's regimented ministrations. I moan as I bite her lip and she keeps going with her thigh. This makes such a change from Bob's self satisfied withdrawal that I cum again, louder this time and I bite her lip hard enough to make it bleed.
At this moment Cara comes out of the cubicle smiling. "That was so hot that I had to do myself in there." she says. "I kept the noise down so I didn't disturb you though." She is fixing her make up in the mirror as I am a red faced heap with shaking legs, unable to speak.
Ella kisses me one more time. Kisses Cara then says "I'm going back out. I will tell the lads that the salad didn't agree with you. Give you time to compose yourself." She slips a piece of paper in my hand and leaves the toilets.
I put the paper between my breasts and sort myself out. I splash water on my face and pull my best 'I'm getting a migraine' look.
When Cara and I get back to the sofas, Bob's face is a study in concern. Dave is still furious that Elle has 'shown him up'. Carl kisses me gently on the cheek and says he is going to take Cara home. The evening is over.
In the taxi all the way to our apartment, Bob is talking about Elle. How uncouth she is, how Dave could do better, how he does not want me making friends with her, how Cara was as much below my station as he would allow. I am not even really listening to him. My knickers are soaked, there is a piece of precious paper between my breasts and I am floating.
I wash, clean my teeth and climb into bed. My fiance presses a hardon into the padding of my arse. I smile to myself that I have mentally referred to it as my arse, not my behind. There is something liberating in this.
"No, no, it is ok Bob", I mumble sleepily,"you don't have to go down on me to make my headache better. I just need to sleep and am sure I will feel right as rain in the morning."
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