A Gift for Henry

"Champagne and cigarettes, mon amour pour toi est éternel." Sylvie settles her head on Henry's pillow.

They lie together in quiet contemplation. Kate watches the smoke as it rises, merging above their heads into wispy clouds that drift slowly towards the window. She envies the ease with which it escapes into its surroundings. Is it misplaced loyalty to her husband, or something less noble, that tethers her to this bed? Her further thoughts are interrupted as the young woman rolls on her side towards her.

"At home, we have a saying about living a good life: mangez bien, riez souvent, aimez beaucoup." As she speaks, Sylvie's fingers gently comb through Kate's dyed blonde hair. "It means you should eat well, laugh often, and love... abundantly."

"Abundantly?" Kate giggles nervously.

"You must never be afraid to embrace life when it finds you." Sylvie kisses her, calmly, firmly, confidently.

Kate yields without a whimper. It is only a kiss. That first time, behind the boathouse, a peck on the lips had struck her like a thunderbolt from a clear blue sky. In that moment, she had questioned everything she thought she knew about herself. Something had awakened. Now as their tongues tease and play, Kate feels again the gentle stirring of desire deep inside her. It is only a kiss, she repeats.

"What about Henry?" Tonight is supposed to be her husband's gift.

Kate hears the dissenting voices in her head. Would it feel any less wrong if he were here?

"He will join us soon." Sylvie draws back, pausing for breath. "I said I would send for him." Sylvie moves a hand down Kate's robe, loosening the sash with a tug. "He was worried about you. You were upset about the mess in the kitchen, about a lot of things. I told him to give you time, that it would be okay."

"How did you know?"

"I didn't. I hoped." Silvie is smiling, running her fingers down Kate's blushing cheek.

They kiss again and again and again.

* * *

Once a date had been agreed, Kate had decided to treat herself to a new dress for the occasion. She had enjoyed window shopping in Covent Garden, trying on Dior and Galvan, even a gown by Alexander McQueen, before falling in love with the red crepe mini by Rebecca Vallance. After meeting an old friend for lunch, and a couple of glasses of wine, they had headed off together to Kensington to look at lingerie. Kate had not shared all the sordid details with Sara, but she didn't need to. She was not the first or the last wife to buy lingerie to try to impress and please her husband.

The last time Kate had seriously looked for titillating undergarments was almost eight years ago, a few months before her wedding day. She had settled in the end on traditional white bridal wear. Now, they looked in boutiques with a wide range of racy alternatives including latex and leather in a rainbow of bright colours, which often left very little to the imagination. Kate's conservative views had prevailed, as they often did, and she had finally found what she wanted in Olivia Greene, a small boutique off Holland Street.

* * *

Kissing and cuddling, that's okay, isn't it? It doesn't cross the line.

Kate lies back, ceding control to Sylvie, who cuts open the untied kimono with a single stroke.

"Oh, you look amazing," the young woman whispers as the silk parts to either side, revealing the white lace babydoll by Marjolaine. "Where did you get it?"

Kate is pleased. Only another woman can truly understand the importance of clothing to a woman, the way it affects how she feels about herself, her mood and her desires. Right now, under the heat of Sylvie's admiring gaze, she feels alluring, desirable, happy. It was ridiculously expensive, but in this moment, it is worth every penny. "Olivia Greene, Kensington."

"It is beautiful,... like you." Sylvie brushes her cheek.

Kate wants to believe every word, her chest steadily rising and falling. Sylvie touches a shoestring strap with the knuckle of a finger, following it down to the satin petals in Guipure lace that demurely hide the swell of her hostess's bosom. She continues along the edge of the plunging neckline from one side to the other, before delicately tracing the path of each breast with her fingertips. Her caress is unhurried, reverential. The young woman is an aesthete appreciating a work of art. They kiss again, slowly and deeply, their passions always in check. Sylvie slips a hand under the leavers lace skirt, its broken outline visible beneath the floral patterns. It moves over Kate's midriff and up the narrow valley between her breasts, circling around the outside before gently cupping and fondling each one in turn. Kate's nipples are hard.

Sylvie turns her attention southwards.

"No, please don't." Kate puts her hand on hers, drawing it away from her lace panties. "I'm not ready."

The young woman looks surprised at first. How many lovers have ever said no to her? Not many, thinks Kate, wondering what is going on behind Sylvie's impassive gaze.

"D'accord," says Sylvie, abruptly sitting up. "I think Henry will soon join us."

If Kate thought she had upset her, the young woman would soon put her mind at rest.

Turning her back, Sylvie asks. "Will you help me please?"

Kate obeys, her fingers trembling as she unzips the dress. Without any hesitation, her French guest slips it from her shoulders and pushes it down over her hips. Sylvie is wearing a simple embroidered black bra that matches her panties. Her skin is lightly tanned, smooth and unblemished. Kate looks on as Sylvie tosses the dress on the floor and reaches for her bag on the bedside table. She takes out a large pink lipstick and places it on the bed between them.

"Do you trust me, Kate?" Sylvie picks up the lipstick, gripping it tightly around the shaft.

"Yes, I think so." It begins to buzz quietly in Sylvie's palm. "It isn't a lipstick, is it?"

"No, it isn't. It's my vibrator, Kate. Have you ever used one?" Kate shakes her head. "You're in for a treat. Unlike a man, or a woman, it will never let you down."

"We should wait for Henry." Kate sits up and crosses her arms. "I'm not comfortable with doing this."

"You need to relax, my darling." Sylvie soothes. "We both do. This will get us in the mood for when Henry arrives. You, me, Henry. We'll all be ready to make his wildest dreams come true."

Kate stares warily at the vibrator. "I'm not taking anything more off until he gets here."

"Très bien." Sylvie grins mischievously. "I won't, even if you beg me."

Sylvie moves closer, kissing her anxious companion. "Now, let's begin."

The young woman places the vibrator on Kate's arm, stroking it gently with the side and tip. The plastic feels hard and smooth, the vibrations almost imperceptible, nothing special. Sylvie moves on to her neck, running the point up and behind her ear and back again. Still nothing. The vibrations become stronger, the buzzing louder. Kate can feel it now, a slight tingling sensation where it touches. It is rather nice.

"How does it feel?" Sylvie rolls the toy across the lace cups of the babydoll.

"Okay, it tickles a little."

Sylvie smiles knowingly. Using the tip of her toy like a pencil, she draws around the outline of each aureole. Kate likes the sensation as it stimulates the blood flow to her nipples. She impulsively kisses the young woman, succumbing gradually to the growing feelings of arousal. The vibrator moves downwards, zigzagging its way over her stomach to the elasticated band of her panties. Keeping true to her word, Sylvie traces the floral patterns woven in the lace, making gentle impressions in the fleshy mound beneath. Focus on the details, thinks Kate, her anxiety lurking in the shadows. It seems the vibrations are less hum and more thrum like the oscillations of a repeatedly plucked guitar string, rising sharply and gradually falling away. Finding the ridge of Kate's pubic bone, the young woman pushes the point against it. The vibrations move through it, extending deep inside her older companion.

"Mmm..." Kate relaxes and opens her thighs, responding to the pleasurable warmth building in her loins.

"Bon, n'est-ce pas?" Sylvie slides the toy into the awakened valley.

"Ohhhhhh..." Kate gasps, overwhelmed by the sudden shock waves from her clitoris. It seems like someone has suddenly turned up the music way too loud. Turn it down, turn it down, her body screams.

"Sorry, my darling," Sylvie says, moving the vibrator further away.

Kate has already forgotten all about it. Her clitoris is still throbbing to the relentless vibrations. Her pussy is sopping wet, the juices soaking through her panties. Her hips are bobbing back and forth, desperate to be released from the swiftly building tension. Sylvie slowly moves the tip in a circle around Kate's clitoris, searching for the right spot.

It is at two o'clock. "Yes,... there... that's it, just there, don't stop!"

A moment later, Kate explodes in ecstasy. Wave after wave of bone-juddering pleasure shudders through her, flowing like a sticky syrup from every part of her loins. The ripples ebb away, leaving a sleepy feeling of total satisfaction. She is purged of all her frustrations.

Kate opens her eyes, slowly adjusting to the dim light from the bedside lamps. How long was she adrift from her surroundings? Not sure, a few minutes, perhaps? Sylvie is lying beside her, having dispensed with her own bra and panties. The young woman kneads one breast roughly with a hand, pinching the nipple between her fingers. The sex toy buzzes angrily between her thighs, bring her simmering arousal rapidly to the boil. Kate places her hand on Sylvie's, feeling the tiny, magical vibrations through her fingertips. The young woman is momentarily taken aback by Kate's boldness. They kiss passionately, finally losing all control of their emotions until Sylvie breaks away, tossing her head from side to side. Panting, gripping the sheets tightly, the young woman is lost in the euphoria of sexual release. In the aftermath, the barriers that once separated them, the guilt, the fear, and the vulnerability of intimacy, have been stripped away. They embrace like lovers, holding each other tenderly.

"Good evening, ladies," Henry announces, holding a champagne bottle and three flutes. "Shall I join you?"

The startled women awaken from their contented daze and, with a flick of the switch, they are springing enthusiastically to life. Sylvie reaches Henry first and kisses him, sweeping an admiring hand extravagantly across his chest. Kate follows her lead, standing on the other side, giving her husband that innocent doe-eyed glance that always drives him wild. Henry isn't sure where to look as the women undress him and pull him down between them on the bed. Kate knows she is over compensating, desperate to assuage her guilt and to suppress her burgeoning feelings for Sylvie. And yet, she can't help but resent his intrusion, his calloused hands grasping her bottom. His erect cock stands prouder than it should from beneath a saggy paunch. Kate grabs it, working it with her fist. Sylvie takes it in her mouth, sucking it. He is moaning and groaning, no doubt excited beyond his wildest dreams. His wife and his mistress jerking him off.

"Fuck me, Henry," says Sylvie, pushing him down on the bed and kneeling astride him.

The young woman slides his cock inside her and begins to rise up and down. They are such a contrast. His body looks old and out of shape, the skin more wrinkled than Kate remembers. The husband and wife usually made love with the lights out. It appears that somethings are better left to the imagination and hidden under the cotton sheets. On the other hand, Sylvie is youthful, so soft, supple and smooth. Kate watches her effortlessly adjust to Henry's hurried and wayward rhythm. Sylvie puts on quite a show, throwing her head from side to side, urging him to really give it to her. If only he knew how little his effort mattered. Kate is jealous, watching her husband fuck his mistress. However, it is not Henry's attention that she envies the most. When her husband reaches for her hand, implores her to kiss him, she spitefully shrugs him off. Instead, Kate crawls closer to Sylvie. Taunting him, she turns the young woman's face towards her and grinds her hungry mouth against hers. He is so arrogant, Kate decides, that he will think this show is just for him. Sylvie is aroused again, her body humming like a tuning fork. However, Henry lasts only a few more moments before finishing with a satisfied grunt. The young woman politely fakes it.

Vibrators are more reliable.

Proud of his efforts, the red-faced man throws his head back on the pillow, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. The women look at each other and smile, dutifully lying either side of him. In a few minutes, he has fallen asleep. Kate turns out the light, her mind reeling. What has just happened?

* * *

Kate wakes from a fitful sleep. The alarm clock on the bedside table says 5 AM. Henry is breathing heavily, a rasping sound coming from his open mouth. She slips quietly out of bed, her grasping hands searching the carpet for her kimono. Kate picks it up and tiptoes from the bedroom. The house is still warm as she wraps it around her shoulders and heads downstairs. The kitchen looks like a bomb site, oily streaks on the tiled floor, dishes and pans full of food haphazardly stacked on every surface. She cuts a piece of cold lamb off the bone and nibbles it. God, she is hungry. Kate crunches a crispy roast parsnip, licking the honey sweetened sauce from her fingers.

"Are you okay?" Sylvie asks from the kitchen door, her disheveled dress thrown over her naked body.

"I honestly don't know." Kate opens the dishwasher and begins stacking plates. "It's a lot to take in."

"Kate?" There is a nervous trepidation in the young woman's voice.

"Yes." Kate inserts a large plate at the front and to the left of the cutlery holder.

"I can't stop thinking about you." It seems that beneath the brash confidence, the young woman has vulnerabilities too. "I want you. I want you so badly."

Kate pauses and stands. Her heart is beating so fast, it may explode from her chest. They collide half-way, arms and legs twisting frantically around each other in a passionate embrace. Sylvie slams Kate against the large American-style refrigerator, which creaks and rocks under the impact. Ripping the silk robe from Kate's shoulders, the young woman pulls down the thin lace straps until the babydoll falls away. It seems her mouth is everywhere, all at once, from neck to shoulder to décolleté. Kate gasps for breath as Sylvie kisses and sucks each breast, tugging them apart to run her tongue along the sensitive cleft above the sternum. Kate is on fire, aching for her lover's forceful touch.

"What's in there?" Sylvie gasps, pointing at a closed door.

"The utility room?" Kate replies, wondering where this question is going and, frankly, why it needed to be asked right now! "Just a washing machine, a few gardening tools, and another sink."

"Come on. Let's hope it is tidier than your kitchen."

Kate is bemused as Sylvie drags her through the doorway. The room is dark, illuminated only by the first signs of sunrise coming through the panes of glass in the back door.

"Oh," says Kate, her mind catching on as Sylvie lifts her on top of the washer dryer.

Sylvie forces the ravaged babydoll downwards over Kate's slender and wriggling hips. Her panties, which only hours before had represented an insurmountable physical and psychological boundary to Kate's latent curiosity, join it on the floor. If this is the point of no return, the dangerous touchpaper to burn down her marriage, Kate no longer cares. Sylvie sinks to her haunches, her head between Kate's legs. It begins with little kisses on the inner thigh, where Kate swiftly discovers that she is especially sensitive, before moving gradually towards the centre. Her anticipation at this point is almost unbearable. The young woman brushes the blushing lips with her mouth, exposing just the tip of her tongue to tease and tickle the intricate folds. She begins to lick Kate's pussy, drawing more and more nectar from the blossoming flower, probing deeper and deeper. Kate feels the yearning desire growing within her, her body tightening like a coiled spring. It is more than just the physical sensation, although Sylvie's caress feels wonderful enough, it is the knowledge that her lover wants to please her, wants her to climb to the heights of sexual pleasure, wants her so desperately to come with her mouth. Sylvie is watching her, mouth pressed up against Kate's clitoris. Her brown eyes wide and attentive, filled with the joy of her lover losing control as they peek over the bobbing public mound. Kate is consumed by passion, selfishly obsessed with her own wanton needs. Hands clawing at Sylvie's long brown hair, she grabs her lover around the head, squeezing it between her vice-like thighs. Her pussy is on fire, everything is on fire. She is melting, flowing like molten gold down her thighs. Kate blacks out as her climax arrives.

Sylvie is on her feet. "Are you okay?"

"Mmm." Kate throws her arms around her lover and kisses her mouth. "You are amazing."

"Yes. Yes, I am." Sylvie flashes a cheeky smile. Helping Kate off the counter, she takes Kate's hand and places it on her waist. "Show me."

"Are you always this direct?" Kate giggles, her fingers ruffling the disheveled black fabric. "I like it."

"Only when I'm this excited."

"Tell me." Kate has always been quite submissive, wanting to please others. "Tell me exactly what you want me to do."

Sylvie lights up, eager to play. "Find the front of the dress and lift it up. Higher, that's it." She takes Kate's hand and places it over her trimmed dark triangle. "Now squeeze it gently. Like that, yes. Use the palm of your hand, press the flesh, mm... like that, curling your fingers around to my pussy. Do you feel it?"

"You're so wet." Kate pushes a finger between the swollen lips, running it back and forth along the groove like a hot knife through butter.

"I am excited for you," sighs Sylvie. They kiss, slowly and sensuously, tongues entwined. "I want your fingers inside me. Two at least, three would be better. That's it. Now, slide them in and out,... nice and slow,... like you're fucking me on a lazy Sunday afternoon. There is no need to hurry, when we have all the time in the world."

"Oh, Sylvie, you're really turning me on."

"Am I? Très bien. You're getting aroused, so your thrusts are getting faster, harder, deeper. Go on,... that's it. Use your knuckles, rub against me." Sylvie moves a hand between Kate's welcoming thighs. "We're getting close now. We want to come together, don't we?"

"Yes." Kate is close to the summit.

"Fuck me then Kate. Fuck me with your fingers until we both come."

Kate lets go, finally freeing herself from the mental yoke of self-doubt, of guilt and shame, of fearing the unknown. She flashes her fingers in and out of her lover's willing and eager pussy, losing all self-control in response to the skillful hypnotic fingertips working her clitoris. Sylvie is so slippery and wet, her loins bucking wildly in time to an increasingly erratic rhythm. They are merging together, coalescing into a single sensual entity, the ultimate mental and physical expression of intimacy. They come, not exactly at the same time, but close enough to share in each other's moment of ecstasy.

"Je t'aime," Sylvie whispers as if she is too scared to say it aloud.

Kate pretends not to hear her, saying nothing in reply. It is better that way. Hasty words are often said in the heat of the moment. They hold each other lovingly for what seems like an eternity, feeling the sweaty heat of their bodies dissipate in the cool draft of air coming in from the garden.