A Dream of Age & Beauty

"Margaret, please. Your first time in London?" She asked me.

"Yes, Margaret," I said, "I've been to Greece and Italy and the Balkans a couple of times, even a quick trip to Paris, but never to this part of Europe."

"Well," she said with a huff, "we might not be Europe pretty soon."

"You didn't ask us colonials our opinion back when," said Yvonne with a shrug, then we all laughed sadly and sipped our respective drinks.

"I'm off to find my husband," Margaret said, "good to meet you Costa. Yvonne, good job today. I hope you'll keep us on track tomorrow too!"

I saw Yvonne watch her as the other woman walked off into the crowd.

"Oh," I said quietly, "you must be good at the arse kissing. Taking lessons from me? She's got a decent one to kiss."

"You like her arse," I wondered for a moment if I'd erred, "my lover? Having thoughts about it?"

"Well," damn the torpedoes, "if my slipping her one up the tradesman's would help your career, let me know."

"You're obsessed with us old women and our arses, you know that?"

"Well, I'm deprived lately, I've only made it through the first Expanse book..."

"Like I said, you move your lips when you read... But not like I'm any better off!"

"It was your idea," I said with a shrug and a smile.

Our backs were near a wall and I felt a hand wrapping itself around my right arse cheek and getting a tight grip. I edged closer to her as we finished our cocktails.

"I'll have the same," Yvonne said as she handed me her empty glass then gave my arse one last squeeze, "and don't let me see you offering your services to my CFO, eh..."

"Like I said," I smiled, "only to help advance your career!"

I set the empty glasses on a tray off to the side of the bar and then went to have the bartender do us two fresh ones. I'd need to be careful, I liked a whisky now and then but hard liquor was definitely not my forte and I knew Yvonne didn't need me to end up flat on the floor singing about a goblin. Then again, she was a bit more used to it than I was but I needed to make sure she wasn't the one on the floor singing about a goblin. Of course, if I was on the floor I might be able to determine if Margaret was or wasn't commando.

Drinks in hand I nodded greetings to a few people I recalled from Sunday as I walked, they took no insults I didn't tarry as I obviously was on a delivery mission. Yvonne was speaking to a man whose back was to me and she caught my eye as I approached and I saw a tightness in her expression that hadn't been there when I'd departed on my errand. He was just over six feet tall, tanned skin I felt came from a sun lamp and not nature, greying at the temples but clearly fit. I guessed he was somewhere a bit past fifty, his eyes had that same set as my boss, although seeing my boss in the suit this man was wearing was never, ever going to happen. And I gained one more notch in my understanding of what a perfectly fitting suit conveyed as I could feel his air of authority.

I stepped to her side and the man went silent as he noticed me arriving. I extended my hand and Yvonne took the drink from my right hand.

"Ah," said the man in a polished American accent as he extended his empty right hand toward me, "this must be Constantine. We've heard many good things about you from Yvonne."

I shook his hand, not really knowing what to say.

"Costa," Yvonne said, "this is Joel vanDusen. He's our senior Vice President in charge of the New York office."

"Ah," I said, "very good to meet you, sir."

There was something in his expression that left me slightly uncomfortable, his words not seeming to mesh fully with his greeting to me. I could sense the slight strain in Yvonne's voice when she introduced him.

Fortunately further discussion was interrupted by a ridiculously young, blonde, tall, thin American woman, wearing what I took to be some sort of very expensive but also plunging neckline gown, her very large store-bought tits very high and well displayed.

"Joel," she said, "there you are, honey."

She came up and slid her arm into his.

"Yvonne, Costa," Joel said, "this is my wife Christine."

She smiled at us but didn't offer a hand. We smiled back and managed 'good to meet you.'

"I'm looking forward to your opinions on my presentation tomorrow," Joel said to Yvonne, "I believe we share some ideas."

"I'll do my best," Yvonne said as she raised her glass in a salute, I followed and the three of us sipped our drinks.

"We're off," said Joel as he looked at Christine, then at Yvonne, "we have another engagement. Good night."

They turned and headed toward the exit.

"Is he a bit of a tool," I said quietly after I ensured we had some space, "or am I overly sensitive? And have you really been talking about me to these good folks?"

"The ones who are my friends," she said softly, "but not that one..."

"And. You're not overly sensitive," she continued, still quietly, "but the info I get is he's setting himself up. Our CEO Smythe has three, four more years at most. And that's if Brexit is just a shitshow and not the event that wakes Cthulhu from his watery sleep. This vanDusen seems to be in the lead to succeed the old man when he goes. He's wicked good playing the office politics."

She sipped her drink and we stood in silence a few moments.

"So hopefully I can just make nice with him for now and we can mostly leave each other alone," she continued, still staring forward at nothing in particular, "after all, he's in New York and we're on the absofuckinglutely other side of the world!"

She finally smiled and we clinked our glasses and took big slugs then.

"Oi," I said, "a couple more of these and I'll be singing about the goblin..."

"It'll be a duet," she said and her eyes were twinkling, "c'mon, one more, we'll say a few good nights and we'll go get some dinner."

"And when we get back to the hotel," I whispered into her ear, "we'll go on the balcony and I'm going to bend you over and lift your dress up while we look over the roofs of London and I'm going to fuck you silly..."

"Forget dinner," she licked her lips, "we'll get room service. After."

She took my hand and led us to the bar.

We turned down a number of offers to join pairs or quartets for dinner and finally left the building in a shared alcoholic haze. I'd come from the opposite direction a short while earlier but we both fortunately knew the way to Liverpool Street tube stop as I'd accompanied her to her building each morning so kept each other on the right route. We'd risen early each day knowing we'd need to get our 15K in as most evenings would be occupied. With that, so long as I was up I decided to savour the joys of rush hour tube rides. It gave me an excuse to jam my crotch against her arse and I think her rubbing my cock with her hand while we were packed in was just her way of relaxing before work. Or something. Her company would've paid for a car or taxi but the morning streets of London were even worse.

"See the little goblin, see his little feet," went the viciously off-key duet as we walked, "and his little nosey-wosey, isn't the goblin sweet?"

At least we were still walking. The best thing about the Circle Line was we couldn't get on the wrong train, as the name implied we'd get to South Kensington going either direction. From here, in fact, one way only saved us a few stops. So we hopped on the first Circle Line train we saw.

Without the crowds we had plenty of room, unusual for our tube rides. But without underwear she said she preferred to sit sideways across my lap with her arm around my neck and smashed her mouth against mine, forcing my lips apart. I was forced to defend myself by pushing my tongue against hers to see whose tonsils would be first to be reached. I had my left arm across her lap and hoped I was subtle enough in reaching under her jacket to find one of those magnificent tits. She didn't stop me, she just kept jiggling her arse against my confined hard shaft which nearly caused me to lose complete track of stops despite other people getting on and off. They either ignored or avoided us.

I somehow registered we'd just left Sloane Square and I broke off kissing.

"Up, next stop," I panted, standing up she cupped my very erect cock making itself obvious.

"We'd better go take care of this," she said with the slightest slur in her voice. I fully agreed.

We exited from the stopped car and worked our way to the street, the late day sun not yet set. At the hotel we nodded to the woman at the front desk and went to the lift, I hit the button and it opened.

"After you, my sweet," I said.

"Not letting you behind me," she said with a laugh as she pushed me in then followed, hitting '5' for our floor and pinning me against the back wall and restarting the kiss. I wrapped my arms around here and this time I did lift her dress to be able to cup her bare arse cheeks.

"What if the door opens?" She said to me, without actually moving my hands.

"They'll get jealous," I said, then went back to kissing.

The lift stopped and the door opened on our floor with no bystanders. Yvonne spun and grabbed my hand as I released her and her dress fell. She was pulling the key out of her bag with her free hand and pressed it against the door lock. The door opened and she tossed her bag onto a chair near the door as I reached up and held her jacket as she shrugged it off to follow the bag onto the chair. She returned the favour and mine joined it. I turned and we clasped to return to the Battle for the Tonsils.

I didn't know how Yvonne had rated one of these top floor suites, she'd shrugged when I asked. She was actually one of the more junior MDs and her office, while successful, was relatively small. Then again, not only was it a suite but her firm had paid for it not only for the weekend before her meetings but also the weekend after before we set off on our touring.

I reached up to the top of the back of her dress and pulled the zipper down as we kissed, her hands working on the buttons of my shirt then opening my belt and snap and zipper. My slacks dropped to allow my stiff shaft to pop free. We broke off the kiss and backed slightly, she allowed her dress to fall down her arms as I slipped my shirt off and pushed off my shoes then stepped out of my slacks. She lifted off her slip then spun and I unclasped her bra to allow her to drop it onto the lounge. We stood for a moment, then watched each other as we delayed things with some sense of propriety seeing us lay our discarded clothing across the lounge, avoided piling it.

I was naked, my throbbing cock beating with my quickened heart rate. Yvonne had her heels, stockings, garter, her breasts free, firm, her nipples slightly erect, her breathing deep. She grabbed my cock and instead of leading me to the bedroom we went to this room's glass door leading onto the balcony. Our room faced north, the sun large and reddening to our left, she stepped to the railing and I wrapped my arms around her, one hand cupping each tit as we faced over the rooftops. There was no building of similar height immediately near, just the imposing stone facades of the Natural History, Science and Victoria and Albert Museums a few blocks away.

I kissed her neck, ears, as she rubbed my cock and pressed it vertically between her arse cheeks. I pulled her nipples and caressed her round breasts. Then she turned and wrapped her arms around me to resume once more the Tonsil Wars. I declared a truce to lean down and cup a tit and suck on first one nipple then the other, alternating while she pressed on my head and I rubbed her clit and fingered her pussy with my other hand.

"Nasty boy," she said between puffy breaths, "forcing the world to see my fat arse."

"One... more... time," I said as I stood up, "it's not fat. But, just so the museums won't have to look at it..."

I held her shoulders and pushed to turn her as she obeyed.

"I said I was going to bend you over..."

"I already lost my dress though," she said as she put her hands on the railing, bent over to rest her chin on her arm and pressed her not-fat arse against my very hard cock.

I adjusted myself at her moist entrance and felt her fingers as she guided my shaft in, she pulled it and just as my head penetrated I pushed firmly to full depth as she exhaled. She ground her arse against me as I slowly fucked her pussy.

I held her hips as her hand pinched and pulled her clit and I felt occasional fingernails on my shaft as I pumped myself in and out, gaining speed with each stroke until we heard an audible slap with each contact, our breathing ragged and open mouthed. There were walls between the balconies on adjoining rooms but if anyone heard us and decided to lean forward on theirs they'd have little trouble seeing us.

"Oh, shit... babe... I'm," I moaned, both of us sweating, "going to blow..."

"Fill me, all... of... it!"

I exhaled loudly as I felt my dick spray a gush of cum as I shoved it deep into her wet cunt, a couple more let go with further spasms as I slowed my movements. I felt her squeeze me with her pussy as her fingers pushed her over the edge, her juices pushing a mixed load liquid from her depths as I came to a stop, most of my shaft still inside of her.

I leaned over and kissed her sweaty neck, reaching to cup her tits, she moved forward to extract me from her and stood up, holding my arms in place across her chest. She leaned her head back onto my shoulder to allow me to kiss her neck and ear.

"I needed that," she said quietly to me as she pressed her back against me and we stood there in silence a few moments as I continued to kiss her softly as the sun was beginning to touch some of the roofs to our left.

"I like this view," she said, "I hope no one's been forced to pluck their eyes out looking this way though."

"Couple years therapy will do them," I assured her.

"Don't think I want room service," she said, "I'm pretty sure a few of the little places around here serve late."

"Fine with me, stretch our legs."

"Be a love," she said as she disentangled us and led me back through the door then she continued through to the bedroom, "fix us a tea while I'm in the loo."

I did as told and turned on the kettle. I was wondering what I should pull on when Yvonne came out of the bedroom carrying a pair of my track pants and a clean t-shirt. My eyes went wide when I saw her wearing her own track suit, the bottoms clinging to her not-fat arse, the top zipped only a third of the way up where it flowed clinging around and only just covering her braless tits. She handed me the clothes as she took her tea.

"Figure we can be casual," she asked with a grin, "think I look ok?"

"Incomparable," I muttered as I held up the clothes I was given, "if I wear these and you wear that, I might, um, people might notice my..."

"Oh?" She said with maximum innocence.

"Never mind me, you look great," I said as I took the clothes and went through to the toilet for a quick stop, trying to think how to keep my prick from going rogue while we were out for dinner.

On Wednesday morning I was awake for not more than a few seconds before the alarm went off, I hit it quickly and heard a groan next to me. Yvonne's hair was sprawled messily on her pillow, her eyes opened slowly.

"I think we'll do a hard 10k today," she said with a choppy voice, "c'mon."

In the lift back up to the room after our run I finally broke.

"Hey, lover," I said softly, "you ok? Didn't sleep well?"

"Well, after you fucked me good and thoroughly and fell asleep," she said as she wrapped my arm tightly, "I stayed up and finished reading my second book."

At that I raised my eyebrows and mouthed 'O'.

"Yup," she was cheering up as the lift door opened, "I'm going to spend a whole day having to deal with whatever ideas that wanker vanDusen has, and I really shouldn't get on his bad side if I feel like keeping my job. And after dealing with that all day I'm going to, you know, need some relief tonight."

My tight smile made clear I knew what she meant.

"So I stayed up to finish the book so I can, um, avail myself of said relief. Not going to renege are you?"

She said that last grinning as she grabbed my arse cheek with her hand and squeezed it. I used the key to let us into our room, my arse still gripped.

"Don't worry, I always pay what I owe! But," I said as we were stripping down to shower, "I've not been reading on these days off, you know, that seemed like cheating. But you can bet I'm going to relax in a coffee shop for a while today and catch up!"

"I'll allow it," she said with that evil smile I had come to know, "you'll have trouble sitting tomorrow so better do it while you can..."

When I kissed her goodbye at her office after goosing her arse in the packed tube car the entire ride over, her last words to me were '6 pm at the Counting House.' I hefted my bag with my Kindle and wandered in a generally westerly direction to find a coffee shop for some reading, a stop at that monument to looting the British Museum and thence Hyde Park for a bit more reading. I would save my reward for later on.

11 Future Dreams in Mid August

We were at an outdoor picnic type table amongst a few other such tables at a pub in back of beyond County Kerry, Ireland, most with umbrellas to shield patrons from the fierce summer sun. Who am I kidding. This was Ireland. The sun was lame as hell.

We'd driven into this cute but tiny town a short while before and we'd left the car at our inn and set out on foot, her bust magnificently displayed in a loose fitting and somewhat translucent blouse over a blue pushup bra and a soft denim skirt at her favourite two inches above the knees. I had my uniform of Industrie shorts and a very lightweight buttoned shirt. Not working she was bare-legged. Her well-worn Avia walking shoes were as usual more stylish than my prosaic Nikes.

Per our agreement neither of us wore underwear but I'd readily agreed that didn't apply to bras. She almost always chose ones that emphasised her chest in ways that didn't allow my brain to think about depressing things and I wanted to do nothing to discourage that practice. And the no underwear agreement was possibly more of a bother to me as she worked hard to give my cock reasons to react, hard to hide when restrained by nothing more than thin loose fitting cloth.

Although we'd heard plenty of the locals complain about the summer heat in this pleasant, green land, we were only able to differentiate this from what we considered a balmy winter day by a slight margin. Which had led us both to wonder how these poor souls suffered the local winters. And from that we appreciated our respective ancestors who'd said 'no more' and fled.

"You know," Yvonne said quietly, "if my mum's a guide in only about 10 or 12 years I'll hit menopause. You sure you want to be around for that? Get yourself a young hottie like that lass, delay it plenty."

I sipped my beer trying to understand how many levels were in that question. She seemed to be indicating a very comely redheaded lass I'd noticed upon our arrival laughing amidst a full picnic table of diners and drinkers. But then I guessed her mood was just as likely triggered by the laughing child in the high chair at the far end of that same table. A sight that unprompted I'd only barely registered.

"Be about time for an early mid-life crisis for me," I hoped was a right response, "should be fun for both of us."

"I have my career I love and those people I have to have around," she scooted tight to me and continued quietly, "but you're the only one I WANT around..."

I stayed silent but leaned into her..

"But there are things I can't give you... So..."

"Oh," I started then paused, "I know that. Those... are not goals I've ever aimed for."