An evening with Christian immediately follows the incidents detailed in Mission Impossible 8, and after those told in Morally Compromised 2.
We left the Chinese restaurant around 10 pm, wondered the streets of Soho, going in and out of one sex shop after another, till near midnight. My shoes were torturing my feet and I was mildly tipsy as we stumbled into a taxi and Christian gave the driver the address.
“Where’s that?” I demanded. “I want to go home.”
“Party time,” Christian said.
“But I can’t – I need to go to bed.”
“There are plenty of beds where we’re going. And if you behave, you might find someone to help you get into one.”
“I might be a little drunk, but I’ve no intention of letting some friend of yours fuck me.”
“Don’t worry darling. There are no cocks there, at least none that you need to be afraid of. The only people who might be interested in prising your legs apart will be girls from Lesbos, and all they’ll want to do is munch your box a little. Anyway, we won’t stay long, an hour tops. I just want to suck a cock or two before we head home.”
I don’t remember where the driver pulled up, but I vaguely recall the towering iron gates and the path that led through an avenue of trees.
Rock music was playing as we approached the house from the back garden, entering through wide open French doors.
Inside the first huge room a handful of half naked men sat at a round table playing poker. On a leather sofa an aging, naked brunette was lying with her legs open while a young, fully clothed, black girl stroked her clitoris and licked her vagina, four other women and a naked man with a long blonde pony-tail stood watching and chatting, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.
Another sofa was inhabited by a mixed group, smoking joints and drinking; another by two men kissing and fondling each others penises through unzipped flies.
Christian wondered around talking to acquaintances and old lovers – which was almost everyone, introducing me as a lesbian friend from out of town. He’d warned me that it would be better if they didn’t know that I preferred to sit on a cock, than lathe a pussy.
By the time I reached the kitchen I was alone. Christian had disappeared into a room with a skinny older man, who he introduced as Alan; mouthing ‘later’ to me, as the door closed behind them.
I picked a glass off of the draining-beard and ran it under the tap. When I turned around a woman I’d passed at the door was holding out a bottle of wine. She filled my glass and then her own.
“I saw you come in with Christian,” she said, in a voice that had a vaguely Dutch sound. “He hasn’t brought you here before.”
She was tall and slender, a beautiful cascade of blonde hair frothing around her shoulders, blue eyes, straight nose, narrow lips and a long neck. A thin silk blouse covered firm, naked slightly upturned breasts, and snug fitting white trousers encased long, beautiful legs and a tight solid bottom that belonged to someone who’d spent hours working out; a figure I discovered much later that belonged to a successful cat-walk model.
“I haven’t been here before,” I said, trying not to squirm as her eyes blatantly weighed my physical proportions and investigated my curves.
“I would have remembered you,” she continued. “Where is he?”
“Gone off with a friend.”
She laughed. “No prizes for guessing what they’re doing. Are you taken?”
“Do you have a regular partner?”
“Oh…. Yes, I do.”
“Are you exclusive?”
“Oh-h…. yes, always.”
“Shame. I was exclusive myself, till recently. Then I discovered that she wasn’t as exclusive as I thought; the bitch was eating pussy, and having hers eaten all over town.”
“So why are you here? These parties are usually filled with people who like to swap and change, and lick and suck and finger and get used by everybody.”
“It was Christian’s idea. We’ve been out for a meal and he said he needed to…..to suck a cock or two before bed. So here we are. I’m just waiting for him to do what he has to.”
“Apparently he gives really wonderful head. I’ve often wondered what he’d be like down there. Has he ever…..with you.”
“You’ve never had a man eat you out then?”
“I agree, women are much better at it. We have our own set of tools, so we know how it all works. Men can be so rough and hasty. To them licking a pussy is just a prelim to the main event. I used to be married, you know.”
“My ex gave alright head, when he could be bothered to go down on me. But after I discovered what a woman could do, I knew I couldn’t settle for second rate. So I left him.”
“Was that for the woman who cheated on you?”
“Oh no…that didn’t last long. She’s a married woman who liked it with both men and women. She’s still with him and he apparently knows what she does when he’s out at work. Isabella, my most recent lover was a short, slightly plump, mousy accountant. I was in love with her. I thought she was the one. If you run into her be warned, she’ll come across as all nice and wholesome, but she’s a fucking back-stabbing cheat and a crook.” She refilled her glass. “Now I’m going to find someone who is willing, and I’m going to lick her till she screams. Unless you’re willing to bend the chastity rule for one night….?”
Taking a step toward me she leaned in and kissed me softly, a slow sensual kiss that my mouth responded to almost instantly. Her lips were soft, yielding and warm, and I found myself being drawn deeper into the unexpectedly pleasant connection.
It had been so long since I’d felt another woman’s mouth on mine. I stepped back as I felt the waters of desire start to flood.
Her smile had a tinge of sadness round the edge. I could see the hunger in her eyes as the tip of her tongue circled her wet lips, savouring the taste of my mouth.
“I’m really flattered,” I said, as calmly as I could manage, “but I promised I’d behave. She’s been cheated on before as well, and I wouldn’t want to hurt her again.”
“How sweet,” she said, “If you ever change your mind, Christian has my number.”