Margarite comes to stay and the girls sort things out
Scorpius1945
***
Author's notes:
1. This is a work of fiction. The activities and practices described in this story are not necessarily either condoned or recommended. If you choose to do anything described in real life with real people you do so at your own risk.
2. All characters are fictional and any likeness to any living person is purely coincidental. The story is purely imaginary and, to the author's knowledge, bears no relationship to any factual occurrence.
3. For those who haven't yet read the previous chapters, I suggest you read them to provide context before continuing with this chapter. I am open to suggestions about where you would like this story to go, if you wish to comment. Thanks.
*******************************
I lay in bed, facing the wall, feeling Margarite's body moving against my back as she and Hank made love together. It seemed an age since I'd been in Margarite's position. Memories ran through my head; the good ones where Hank and I loved each other, endlessly, morning, noon and night, as we worked together in our businesses, escorting and teaching, helping others achieve the joy we experienced. It seemed so long ago. Mentally, I counted; it was only three weeks, and then Margarite had arrived.
I remembered her at the door, face stained with tears, thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders to protect her from the bitter cold. We invited her in immediately and she sat by the heater, trying to warm her frozen bones as she told what had happened. All her investments were gone, she said, stolen by a ruthless broker, who'd forged her signature as a guarantor before he fled the country. She had what she stood up in; the rest, her house, car, clothes, jewellery, everything had been taken by the bank to repay some of the money her broker had embezzled.
Of course we invited her to stay; that was only charitable to such a close friend. For the first week all was well, we had fun together, sleeping in one bed, taking turns at making love with Hank, making love with each other when we'd drained him or when he had clients. Then slowly, slowly she took over, sleeping between Hank and me instead of on the other side of Hank, making love to him more frequently, keeping him busy so he had no time for me. Slowly and systematically she stole him from me, and he didn't even realize that she was taking him over, taking him away from his fiancée. I felt gutted; completely rejected by the one I loved. Fortunately, I guess, I was kept busy with escort work, and fortunately that provided part of the sexual satisfaction I craved; but not the closeness, not the love that I shared with Hank.
I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and soak into the pillow. The man I loved, the man I was to marry in a few months, my fiancé, was seemingly lost to me. Taken by this vixen who, even as I thought these thoughts, was shuddering in orgasm behind me as my fiancé made love to her. It was not fair. Soundless tears flowed for real now, tracing wet lines across my face. What was I to do? How could I send her away and retrieve my lover, my life?
After a while of feeling sorry for myself, during which time I heard Hank's release as he squirted his cum, my cum, into Margarite, I got out of my dark space. If I was going to get through this, and I was, I needed to take matters into my own hands. It was pointless trying to change others. The only person I could change was me. So, how should I do that? What could I do?
The Crucible! I was a member, which meant I could attend members' nights, with or without an escort. Just because Margarite entertained Hank in bed here didn't mean I couldn't do the same with another guy elsewhere, and The Crucible was full of guys just waiting for me to let them love me. Well, that was the scenario my mind constructed anyway. And sex with anyone was better than no sex at all, wasn't it? I mentally reviewed my timetable. This Friday I was booked, but Saturday was free - so far anyway. Saturday night was Crucible night.
I began running through possibilities in my mind, envisaging well-endowed studs vying for my attention, waiting in line to get their rocks off inside me, challenging one another to see who would take me home. I gently stroked my clit, inserting one, then two, fingers inside me, feeling my arousal, gently bringing myself to a small but satisfying orgasm which allowed me to drift into a deeper sleep than I'd had for several days.
I spent the next day responding to emails about my part of the escort business, answering queries on my free 'Ask Celeste' Q&A site, and planning what I'd wear on Saturday night. Hank asked me why I seemed so distant from him during the day; I responded that it was just a woman thing and he probably wouldn't understand, so he dropped the subject. Yeah, a woman thing; wanting to be loved and cherished by the man she was to marry! Huh, I thought, what's happened to your loving sensitivity?
That night, Thursday, I again lay in bed, remote from Hank in both physical and mental distance, listening and feeling him make love with Margarite as I ran through in my mind various scenarios for Saturday night. Would I be available for BDSM activities or just for sex, I wondered? Did I want to be punished; did I deserve to be punished for allowing Hank and Margarite to ride roughshod over me? Maybe I did. Mentally I imagined being caned or my pussy being entered by huge dildos, my clit tortured by massive vibrators for hours on end as I came and came and came, endlessly. I drifted off to sleep with these visions in my head.
Friday, I slept late, preparing myself for that evening. I sorted clothing for the date, had my hair done professionally, and mentally prepared myself for whatever the evening would bring. Margarite and Hank kept their distance, noticing a change in my attitude, a lack of the neediness I'd had a few days ago. I was collected by a cab at 7pm and met Errol, a well-dressed, personable businessman, who jumped out and ushered me into the back seat, then sat beside me. He seemed well-groomed, well-spoken and reeked of sexuality. It would be a great night, I decided.
Dinner was fabulous; the best meal I'd eaten for months, then we began dancing. Errol seemed to be an expert and was very fit. My own dancing had improved greatly this year but even so I had difficulty keeping up. However, Errol was very gracious, guided me in dances which I had not previously encountered, and I enjoyed the feeling of being held securely in his arms. He was a good conversationalist and was only a little hesitant when I asked if he had a partner in London, which was his home.
"Well, actually, to tell you the absolute truth, I'm married with three children. But before you judge me, we're in an open marriage. Both my wife and I are frequently away on business trips, she manages a large import-export business, so we both travel a great deal. We have a nanny for the children, so they're well looked after. So, we decided long ago that when we're together, we're a couple and nothing or nobody will come between us. But when we're apart we're free agents to entertain or be entertained by others as we see fit. The only conditions are the we don't bring home any STDs, or bring or leave behind any potential babies."
"That sounds like a very wise decision," I replied, grateful for his honesty. "So, are you into fluid bonding or do we use a condom?"
