The Courts Of Pleasure Ch. 04

The firmness in her voice belied the palpitation of her heart. Vivienne held out her hands to Sarah. They touched and embraced, their mouths mingling with yearning. Cliff watched them with trepidation, quelling the urge to take Vivienne in his arms and kiss her the same way.

They parted then and Vi watched them walk down the path to the brick-walk. The excitement that she had felt within herself yesterday morning was still there...and hope quivered over it.

***** The ride to the commuter station was a quiet one. Sarah reclined by herself in the back of Coverly's roadster and Cliff was even more than usual his uncommunicative self. Silently Coverly regarded Sarah from time to time with glances in his mirror.

Occasionally he caught glimpses of her figure as the wind molded the duster about her body and the pose she had assumed was not unlike the one he had discovered her in last night when she had revisited the pond alone except then she was nearly naked, her body an utter delight masturbating in the moonlight.

He had taken her then with his tongue, his fingers, and his phallus, and her responses were everything that he knew they would be upon his viewing of 'The Passion Flower'. Every inch of her being from her gorgeous body to her inner self made for love, and the sample she'd given him of her gorgeous butt as he had taken her from behind cried for much, much more of Moore!

A soft smile played about her lovely lips and he wondered if she was recalling the delight she had so obviously shown him in that passionate interlude when he had mounted her. He felt his penis hardening again at the very thought of how utterly receptive she had been to his mouth, his hands, and his cock, and with her eyes shut how willingly she had abandoned herself to him, her unknown lover. As for Sarah her mind was a welter of confused impressions. When at last they boarded the commuter for the trip back to Southshore she was still turning over her reactions. First there was the commission and this new life looming in The Court. The opportunity to be able to freely explore her creative self, to expand beyond the routine at the Ad Agency and shed the drab dull life around her was almost too exciting to hope for. But foremost was her utter amazement at the way she had surrendered herself to Vivienne as she considered what had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

All of this was so mixed with the erotic ambiance of The Court as to be mind-boggling. From the beginning her life with Cliff had been a sexual adventure, but an adventure confined to their bedroom except for that one episode. Her own fantasy life had been rich before she met him, and it had been easy and fun to share her imaginations with his, but never had she expected that any of this would become a reality.

Now it all centered around Vivienne; her youth on the one hand, her deep sensuality and abandonment on the other, the amazing extent of her sexual sophistication for one so young, and especially the intriguing ambiguity of the girl's sexual preferences. Sarah marveled at her own complicity in all this and recalling Vi's evident enjoyment as she had been fondled by the girl she had suspected that Vivienne was lesbian.

Sarah could still feel the endless lingering of Vi's hands over her body, the loving tenderness and marvelous intimacies with which Vi had molded the cob-web costume upon her still resonated powerfully in her being. She had been truly turned on to the girl, lusting so for her body that the cunnilingus on Vi's cunt had been inevitable, and that she had brought the girl to orgasm with her tongue an enduring satisfaction.

At first she was sure that her own deep pleasure in all this must have been due to the effects of the 'spike'. But in that pond interlude last night with Vi and Cliff the only 'spike' had been his cum, and those kisses she had shared with the girl in swallowing it had stirred such a deep passion within herself for every nuance of Vi's body and being, that she knew she had to explore their needs to very end. Of course she'd shared lesbian fantasies with Cliff. It was one of his favorite turn-ons; herself, another woman and Cliff sharing every imaginable sexual adventure. But never had she believed in the reality of it, of actually finding another woman with whom she could be comfortable in doing such things. In a way it hadn't even occurred to her until now that she had been doing "such things". Vi was so natural. They just fitted together somehow. But clearly Vi wasn't lesbian. She was bisexual. Her deep enjoyment of Cliff was evident. Sarah recalled the expert and lusty way the girl had handled him. Vi knew and enjoyed men. There was no question about it. The image of her mouth, eager upon Cliff's cock, was fresh in Sarah's mind. The very thought of it stirred Sarah, and she felt her pulses quickening.

As for Cliff, his behavior was utterly baffling. Vi was his dream come true. She was clearly willing to accommodate him. Yet here he was quibbling and putting off a decision to come to The Court. "Cliff?" she exclaimed.

"What?" He shuddered awake beside her, jerked into consciousness by the unfamiliar intensity in her voice. "Tell me what you want."

He waited without looking at her, feeling her face turned up to his while he stared down the length of the lurching coach. "Later," he said.

*****

Sarah waited a week, and the day at the agency had been a long one. Endless phone calls with clients discussing copy concepts. Design conferences to show layouts and roughs. The work was fun. Stimulating. But The Court beckoned with an irresistible allure.

When Sarah left work dusk was gathering. She drove down by the lake to catch a glimpse of the setting sun over its waters and to think. She had grown up in this lakeside town. She still loved its special charm. The beach beckoned as it always had and leaving her shoes in the car she trudged through the soft warm sand down to the water's edge so that she could walk on the hard-pack where the waves pounded the shore.

The evening was warm and Lake Michigan shone in the setting sun like a bed of molten glass. Sarah walked up from the water's edge to the first bank of low dunes and settled down in the grass to wait for the sun to drop into the water and send up that wonderful explosion of incandescent color into the sky. She lay back and closed her eyes listening to the wind washed waves piling against the shore.

In the week since leaving The Court they had tried to make love every night.Always they had conjured up images of Vivienne and she had fed him one tantalizing vision after the other of what the girl must be like in an utterly abandoned threesome of fucking.

He had wanted her to tell him over and over again what it had been like when Vi was caressing her body through the costume, what it had been like to fuck with the girl in the pond, and what she wanted to do to Vi next and have Vi do to her.

In return he had fed her the explicit details of how he would take them both in an orgy of fucking and sucking, and their erotic appetites had soared into the need for satisfaction, a satisfaction that was never consummated because of his failure to achieve erection. She had tried every trick in her erotic repertory to raise his generous phallus into its usual tumescence without success and they were both now is a state of bafflement as Cliff' cock remained irresolutely limp.

The sound of the waves upon the beach before her wasn't soothing, it was restless, unceasing. The combers crashed one on top of the other in long compelling sighs. 'Doooo it," they whispered.

The cries of the gulls wheeling about overhead mingled with the sounds of the waves. Sarah watched the birds banking and diving, passing back and forth just above her. Their shadows made ragged patterns over the sand, their hard wings beating the air, their strong bold beaks glinting under the lidless eyes. She had heard those calls before. But now they were different, their anguish roused a suspenseful urgency in her. An empty clam shell glinted in the sand beside her. She fingered its smooth iridescent interior, and then the image of the pearl that she had found on the patio that night at The Court formed in her mind. She saw it with absolute clarity. She felt it beckoning to her, drawing her into its pearlescent light. Sarah lay back on the sand and closed her eyes. The surf pounded rhythmically, and she felt again the magic of her unknown lover beside the pool on that fateful night of the Solstice.

Someone in that crowd who had seen her crowned Queen Of Summer and studied the revelation of her naked body on the stand had lingered in the pool that night, had come to her while she was masturbating under the night sky, and brought her to full arousal with his tongue and then fucked into two cataclysmic vaginal and anal orgasms.

An absolute stranger! God, it was all so exciting, so compelling that she had to touch herself. The way she felt right now it would only take a minute, an instant to slip her hand under her skirt and into her panties, a second to find her swollen clitoris and stroke it into rigidity.

Then those sensations, those incredible moments when Vi had French Kissed her with Cliff's semen all over her tongue mingled with the echoes of her fuck with the unknown stranger, and Sarah's simmering orgasm boiled up and crashed like the surf all around her. That night she made an extra effort with dinner; a shrimp scampi that stretched her budget in these times of such rarities, a bottle of Chardonnay Blanc, and a baby lettuce salad with her own recipe for vinaigrette dressing that Cliff favored. To top it off she dressed the table with candles and flowers. Cliff was pleased. He dined with absorption while she looked for the opening that she finally had to make for herself.

"I really should write to Coverly and tell him what we've decided," she began. He picked up his wineglass and held it before his eyes judiciously, turning it in his fingers to observe the clarity. He sipped judgmentally in the silence. "And what is that?" he returned at last.

"This is a wonderful opportunity for us both. You said you would think about it". Cliff probed his salad, speared the tender leaves and she watched them disappear in his mouth. He chewed deliberately and a tiny trickle of dressing escaped from the corner of his mouth and hung suspense fully underneath his chin before dropping into oblivion. The tension wound in her. She was sure that he'd already decided that they would go, that he wanted to go, but there was clearly something else that he wanted from her, something that he needed to make it all possible, and for sure something to cure his impotence. Sarah picked up the bottle of wine and instead of simply filling his glass from where she sat, she came around to his side of the table, put her hand on his shoulder and poured for him. She leaned against him. His arm slid around her hips, and his hand stroked her thigh as he answered:

"I have been thinking about it. I bought you a present. It could be a going away present, possibly." He paused meaningfully. "It's in the front closet. Why don't you just go get it and see what it is?" The box was large, wrapped in black shiny paper with a gleaming red bow stuck upon it. The paper stripped away under her fingers and she lifted the lid. Sarah shook out the pale tangerine folds in open-mouthed wonder, fingering the tiny mid- thigh tangerine mini-skirt.

"My God, Cliff, where did you ever get a mini?"

"I have connections. I had it made for you. It's just your size. You'll look great in it. All it needs is the right pair of heels."

"Heels? Where could I get heels?"

"I know a place in the Mall. But you'd have to wear the dress. You know, to make sure everything matches."

"But I could never go out in this. Not the way things are now," She stared at him in disbelief

"You could as a favor to me. You can cover it with your duster. No one will know what's under it except me." She saw the unfamiliar sullen cast shadowing his features. "Forget it," he added petulantly. "If you're not up to it, I guess you're not up to much of anything. We'll just stay here in Southshore."

Surprise and realization roiled up in a wave within her. So this was it! This is what he was waiting for, the chance to replay the whore-game, the one fantasy they had lived out that other time when he had his first bout with impotence and it had cured him. Would it this time? Sarah considered for a long moment. It was really risky. If someone from the Vice-Patrol saw her it would be a disaster. But it was a risk she knew she had to take if there was any chance of her going to The Court with Cliff, and there was a tease of weird pleasure in it too.

It had been crazy fun the other time and it had certainly cured him of that temporary impotency following the consummation of their marriage when he had discovered the depths of her own passions verging on nymphomania at times. She had learned then to curb her appetites and let him take the lead in everything. But now of course he was faced not only with satisfying her but with Vivienne as well. Those premature orgasms of his with herself and Vi had been a surprise. Usually he could fuck until she'd had at least two or three climaxes herself before he came, and now he couldn't get it up at all. Was it the girl's striking sexuality or her own passion for Vi that had unmanned him? What ever it was they had to solve it together. Sarah turned and went into the bedroom with the dress.

The transformation didn't take long. The mini fitted her like she knew it would, leaving her legs unchastely revealed to her upper thighs. The gold clasp that held her hair clattered into the dish on her dresser and she fluffed until her coiffure spread over her shoulders. Somewhere there was a tube of lip-gloss. Sarah pawed about amongst her cosmetics until she found it, glossed her lips and studied the result.

She groped in her jewelry drawer and slipped a single thin gold bangle over her hand heightening the slim delicacy of her wrist. She pondered her ear-rings, decided upon gold loops to match the bangle, and turned to look at her legs in the mirror.

She was just what he wanted now except for the shoes.

The high heels would lift her calves, tighten her thighs and round her buttocks. The heightening of her already seductive curves was what Cliff relished, and that was what the dress code was taking such drastic measures to hide.

Sarah went to her closet, slipped her feet into her flats and pulled the duster off the hanger. The long light over-garment with its hood covered her from head to foot, its loose grayness turning her at once from a tangerine confection into a nondescript shadow. There was a time not long ago she knew when a woman could go freely in public amongst men and dress to reveal her beauty, not hide it. But that time was ending when she was born. By now men could only guess at what the ghostly dusters concealed. Sarah lifted the hood over her hair and soberly contemplated the reality of what she was about to do. This was not only a sex game to cure Cliff, it was also her ticket to The Court with all that implied.

Her glance fell upon the little black velvet box in her jewelry case. She took up the box and opened it. The gleaming freshwater pearl that she had found that starry night beside the pool fell into her palm in its new gold setting of a necklace. Her hand closed over the memory of that marvelously mysterious fuck, over all that lay ahead, a new strength infused her and willed her into the act as she slipped the necklace around her neck and went out to Cliff.

The entrance to the Mall loomed in front of her when he let her off and drove on to park the car. Once the complex had been brightly lit but now the dim-out had shrouded the rambling cluster of buildings in gloomy half lit shadows and she was thankful for them, for the cover they gave her.

Inside, the corridors opened into a maze of galleries crowded with shoppers. Only the show windows were brightly lit. Brilliant puddles of light flowed out from them and over the passing crowd.

Sarah loitered along, pausing at the windows studying the meager displays of house-wares and plain women's clothing. There were a few dresses amidst the abundance of loose slacks and over-blouses, long dowdy affairs with loose vests to conceal the bosom. And bonnets, endless capacious headdresses designed to shield a woman's face. The more she browsed over the discouraging display the deeper her impatience and irritation and the more intense her will to flout its intent.

Somewhere Cliff was watching her. She could feel his presence, hanging over her, following her. She slowed her pace, dallying before the show windows amidst the press of hurried shoppers. She lingered and swayed and then there was a man near her. He slowed and paused just beyond her. He stopped just outside her puddle of light in front of the store window. His face was mirrored next to hers in the glass. Sarah raised her hand to the edge of her hood and casually, absently, moved it to reveal her cheek and then she lifted her eyes and looked fully into the reflection of his eyes.

The message crackled between them and she held his gaze directly for a quick unsubtle moment. The excitement within her wet her palms, quickened her breathing. It was so easy she marveled as she turned away sensing that she had captured him, knowing that he would follow her.

Sarah joined the shoppers again, following Cliff's directions through the maze of corridors to the plain sign over the nondescript show window that advertised 'Walker's Shoes' .

He had been very specific about where to find the place. The shop lay at the out-of-the-way-end of a little hall off a main corridor, the doorway almost lost in the confusion of boxes and crates scattered about. Pausing over the display in the obscure window, she studied the nondescript collection of footwear without a suggestion of anything so forbidden as high heels.

Aware suddenly of the young man's image in the glass before her she scanned the background for Cliff. He was nowhere to be seen. Only his presence was felt as she observed the man's face with more care. An average looking fellow, not handsome, not homely, but 'interesting' and so very 'interested'! Loitering, she fingered her hood again as he drew near, her eyes intent now upon the shoes, disregarding his gaze, exercising her power to choose and refuse. A subtle shrug was all it took to dismiss him and she sauntered into the store. Rows of racked shoes divided the front of the store from the fitting chairs at the back and she moved amongst them, glancing briefly up as the young man beyond the window moved away.

"May I help you ma'am?"

She glanced at the clerk, a stocky balding fiftyish fellow with keen quick eyes. "I'm looking for something rather special," she replied, "Something in the right color and style with an interesting heel." She measured the height suggestively between her thumb and first finger.

"Ah. I see. It's possible. Could you be a bit more specific?"

Sarah lifted her hand to her throat and fiddled casually with the top button of her duster just as Cliff entered the shop unseen.

"Would you have something that might go with this color in a six-B?", she asked deftly slipping the buttons and pulling the duster aside over her bosom. The clerk studying the swell of her breasts capped by the generous relief of her nipples under the taut tangerine fabric failed to see Cliff browsing through the rack by the door.

"If you would come this way please," the clerk gestured at the back of the store and Sarah followed him passing half a dozen chairs in the fitting area to arrive at one hidden between tall shoe racks. The clerk nodded to the chair.