In Part 2 amongst the bankers and their stunning but bored wives, Sara still radiant from her thunderous orgasm meets a sporting connection from her past, but this time Sara takes control.
All characters whether referred to in the present or in their past are 18 years of age or over.
Given the circumstances Sara was surprised to find she was enjoying herself. Something about the warmth and friendliness of 'H' & Gemma's family, and perhaps the quivering orgasm Gemma had given her had relaxed the young Australian.
She was now dressed in a flowing ankle length yellow gown that set off her tanned limbs and golden hair to perfection. The halter neck revealed the length and perfection of her strong back, the silken fabric only wrapping her body fully again at her hips. Gemma had told her it was a vintage Dior dress that she'd once modelled for a 1960's themed photo shoot and, that she loved so much she'd persuaded the agency she should keep it. But as she said,
"My darling girl it never looked so good on me, it's as though it was created just for you."
The pleated top clung to her breasts but was so well made and her breasts were so firm that no bra was needed or could have been worn. She was aware that her nipples had been hard all day, following Gemma's ministrations but she didn't mind the glances they attracted. She felt empowered, for one of the few times in her life she felt as though her sexuality was a special power.
"You look like Grace Kelly, darling" Gemma had said to her, "it takes my breath away." She blushed at the complement but was more than happy to be compared to the beautiful actress who went on to marry a Prince.
The skirt was lined with silk and felt thrillingly soft and cool around her legs, sitting on top was a fully pleated wrap of what Gemma had told her was organza, though back home in country Victoria everyone would just have called it gauze.
Gemma had casually mentioned that she really shouldn't wear panties with such a dress, there was a danger of the fabric clinging giving an unflattering VPL, but Sara hadn't felt so confident especially with her juices flowing after she'd cum so hard earlier.
"Well you can't put these back on" laughed Gemma, holding up Sara's favourite lacy pink panties, "they're completely soaked" she exclaimed holding them close to her face to take in the heady aroma of the younger woman.
"I have just the thing, come with me." She took Sara by the hand and led her into the dressing room, which turned out to be nearly as large as the bedroom, dominated by a glass topped island chest of drawers and surrounded by ceiling height cupboards and shelves. There was a huge discreetly lit rack containing more shoes than Sara had ever seen outside a shoe shop, all looking immaculate. Sara started to study them, recognising names
Louboutin, Jimmy Choo, Manolo Blahnik
, names she knew but had never seen before. There must have been over 100 pairs all neatly arrayed.
"I'll find you some perfect shoes later sweetie, I know they're lovely but as you've insisted, we need to cover up that pretty little fou fou of yours. Here try these."
Sara turned to see Gemma holding up a beautiful flesh coloured lace thong, a drawer of neatly layed-out pretty underwear behind her. The thong had a little pink bow on the waist band, but what took Sara aback was the row of pearls running all the way from the waist band down to the gusset.
"You see this colour wont show beneath the dress," Gemma was saying, "and these little gems," Gemma ran her long beautifully manicured finger down the line of pearls "will, shall we say keep you interested! It's
Agent Provocateur
, oh, I know darling we should go and have a girls afternoon and try on lots of silly bits of lace and silk, you'll simply adore it"
She gave one of her stunning smiles and, while Sara from choice would have opted for something more comfortable, felt she had no choice but to pull on the gorgeous if flimsy garment.
"Now give me a twirl."
Sara spun on her toes, feeling the pearls gently slip against her still swollen clit as she did so, making her expel a tiny gasp of shock and pleasure.
"Just perfect, darling. No VPL and I can guarantee you'll feel fabulous. Now lets find you some shoes."
Now, here she was a couple of hours later, she'd learned to stop the little gasps but found herself constantly smiling. Walking down the stairs had been especially excruciating, the little pearls rubbing her rhythmically as she descended, nearly making her cum by the time she reached the bottom.
"Didn't I say it would keep you interested?" Gemma had giggled conspiratorially to her as they made their way to the garden.
"Really Gemma, I don't know whether to love or hate you right now," Sara whispered back, "but I've never felt like this in my life before."
She'd been introduced to lots of people, wives and girlfriends at first and then a few of the men who seemed intent on checking out her cleavage and prominent nipples before receiving pointed glares from their partners. She's met some older people, 'H' and Gemma's parents and some of their friends, who had been very polite and warm ensuring she was never without a glass of champagne.
A couple of charming old rogues had flirted with her and their wives had allowed their husband's their little fantasies, safe in the knowledge that those days were long gone but pleased to see the old chaps still appreciated a beautiful woman.
A few of the ladies even toyed with the idea of feeding their aging gentlemen a Viagra later on, pleased that Sara may have awakened a latent beast, after all even in your 70's you could still enjoy a hard cock and maybe remember the joys of younger days, provided the old bugger didn't have a heart attack!
After the charming older crowd Sara found herself introduced to the younger women, all of whom seemed to have an exclusively upper-class name, Tamara, Diana, Gilly, Camilla, Anastasia, Octavia and Genevieve. They all had nick names too that Sara had no chance of remembering, Anastasia was Stash and Camilla was Lemons for example.
The women were mostly tall and willowy, aged in their mid-30's wearing beautifully cut summer dresses, a couple of them former models. Their conversation had bored her; the best restaurants in Barbados, outrageous London property prices, Russian oligarchs and their dreadful wives ('pot, kettle, black' Sara had thought during that one), their husbands failings and above all schools. They seemed obsessed by schools, should little Olli have his name down for Eton or was he more suited to somewhere like Winchester or Shrewsbury. They were obsessed. And of course, it was all so difficult now, just because daddy went there it didn't mean you would be automatically accepted these days.
'Lemons' seemed to be especially offended,
"....and after everything this family has done for that school" she was saying in a silly braying voice that reminded Sara of a horse she hadn't liked very much back on the farm.
She'd had some experience with this kind of thing though. In Australia there was a strict hierarchy of private schools, especially in her part of Victoria. She'd attended Geelong Grammar, it was the school where most of the country kids ended up if their parents could afford it, and while it had a good reputation, in fact Prince Charles spent a term there, it wasn't Scotch College or Melbourne Grammar School.
She'd mentioned the Prince Charles thing which stopped a few of the doe eyed women for a moment but very quickly the discussion moved on to which school had the best facilities for the boy's polo ponies (a toss-up between Millfield and Stowe, should you be interested), at which Sara had rolled her eyes and started looking for a way out of the group.
At that precise moment she was very grateful for the pearls in her panties, giving her something to concentrate on as she adjusted her footing from one leg to the other.
