A Lifetime Romance Bk. 02 Pt. 01

I had hired a Maybach and driver to get us around town. Janey wanted to tour along the Thames for Hilley's sake. So we arranged to motor into the City on the North side of the river and thence to Westminster and on to Hyde Park.

We looped down on the A201 to where it crosses the Thames on Blackfriar's Bridge. We had to do that In order to get to a starting point east of the City. Then we made our way slowly along the Embankment all the way to Birdcage Walk and from there north to Knightsbridge and the Park.

Most of historic London passed outside our windows; from St. Paul's, Fleet Street and the Inns of Court to the buildings along the Strand, Horse Guards and White Hall, to the grand centerpiece which was Westminster and Parliament.

Hilley was entranced. She was thrilled by Paris but London's display of unadulterated pomp and circumstance clearly touched something in her soul.

I marveled at how such a young person could have such a deep feeling for the human condition. We were passing the new Globe Theater on the other side of the river as I was thinking of that and Hilley's precociousness reminded me of Shakespeare. I mused to myself that there are just people born in this world who have that capacity.

I made a mental note to myself to make sure that Hilley saw and experienced it all before we left London.

~

Janey

This was the first time in London for Hilley so I wanted her to get a view of the incredible history of the place.

There are very few cities in the world where you can literally take a one hour drive and see every aspect of the memorable events that have shaped your OWN life.

In the drive we passed places with famous names. But more importantly monumental events happened there.

We would see architecture spanning two thousand years; ranging from the ancient walls of Roman London, through the Saxon Edward the Confessor's Cathedral at Westminster, through the Norman Tower of London and its bloody history to the preserved pock marks of bombs dropped in the London Blitz.

All of these lay within our short drive. Artists like Shakespeare and Dickens had lived and been inspired there. And famous monarchs like Henry the Second, Henry the Eighth, his daughter Queen Elizabeth and Queen Victoria had all ruled there.

We looped along the Thames and I could see the Inns of Court, which more-or-less gave us our legal system, while a replica of Shakespeare's Globe Theater passed across the River. The wonders of Parliament were approaching in front of us while a giant Ferris wheel built to celebrate the millennium was spinning slowly to our left.

We looped up past Regent's park and cut over to Knightsbridge passing Harrods in all of its Victorian glory. Hilley and I had a long date with that place in our future. As we crossed over to Hyde Park corner, we even passed 221B Baker Street, the fictional home of Sherlock Holmes.

The park itself was sliding by on our right in the late afternoon sun with picnickers sprawled in the lawn near Albert Hall and the Albert Memorial, which in its baroque curlicues must be the singular ugliest memorial in the world.

Hilley was entranced through the entire ride, her intelligence was on full display. London is not as "showy" as Paris. But its appeal to your intellect is compelling.

Hilley's wonderful mind was soaking that all in at an incredible rate.

We arrived at our destination. A battalion of valets began unloading our car while I walked Hilley up to our room with the concierge. The man was entranced by her beauty, as anybody would be. But the excited running commentary that she was providing about what she had just seen would have done credit to a museum docent. He was impressed to say the least.

He was less impressed by the hound but being well bred and English he chose not to notice that we were accompanied by a dog.

Zeus was checking the place out like he was planning on moving to other quarters if this one didn't suit his needs. That is the curse of Gallic arrogance.

Paul was doing all of the things you have to do to get a group like ours checked in. I was both pleased and disappointed when I saw the room.

I was pleased because it was splendid accommodations. I was less pleased because Paul and I had planned to play a little game that we occasionally like to play to spice up our married sex life and tonight was the night.

Hilly, Ada and Zeus were obvious potential handicaps in that game. But then again the challenge was stimulating in itself.

~

Paul

There was the usual period of settling in at the hotel, which involved getting the dog properly oriented to life in a five star. That orientation was followed by a walk across the street to Hyde Park where he did his business.

It was time for high tea when I finally got all of the details of Zeus's daily constitutional sorted out with him.

The last time I stayed at the Baglioni I had an unfortunate incident involving several gallons of English beer. Since that time I have been careful about eating and drinking in moderation.

We ordered the classic English high-tea service. And we included Ada with the group. Zeus had been stationed upstairs with instructions to protect our things.

We had stayed in a single room the first time we came to London, but this time we had numerous extras with us. So we were staying in a suite. With Zeus posted in the living room, probably knocked out on the couch.

Hilley was in a little girly Adrianna Papell tea dress that her mother had picked out for her, complete with long white gloves. Her mother was in a similar item, which showed off her extremely feminine curves.

Janey takes Hilley's social upbringing seriously and the dress and carefully coached etiquette were all part of her master plan to turn our daughter into a highly knowledgeable and sophisticated debutant well before puberty.

Ada is far too German to dress like an English lady. She was wearing a white shirt and a dark worsted skirt with a certain amount of Teutonic defiance.

We had the usual first course of tea sandwiches, unsubstantial cucumber and egg salad things with the crusts cut off.

Personally I don't eat rabbit food. But I also didn't want to get plastered. So I nibbled on those insults to my manhood with ill grace.

The scones in the second course were a different matter. I devoured them with clotted cream and jam ignoring the third course of lemon and fruit pastries.

Janey is extremely well bred and genteel and she has been doing tea since she was three years old. She has brought up her daughter to be just as adept in this weighty English ritual.

Both of them were studies in gracefulness and culture while I was dribbling jam and clotted cream on the front of my shirt. As a result, they were acting like they didn't know who the stranger was who had sat down at their table.

Meanwhile they were carrying on a polite, highborn conversation about a Jane Austen novel. I hate tea and I couldn't make it through a Jane Austen novel with a gun to my head. However, my wife and daughter are aristocrats. So they managed to drink their pot of tea without looking even remotely disdainful at the pint I had ordered.

Ada, being German Swiss, was all-in with me on the beer.

Ada had turned out to be a surprise. I had hired her as a governess for Hilley because she had impeccable credentials. But she had turned out to have a lot of good humored German compatibility with the family and total devotion to Hilley that promoted her into our inner circle.

She was not a beautiful girl by a long shot but she did possess the largest pair of tits I have seen on a human female. Those got her occasional admiring glances from the younger men in the room.

I was thinking to myself, "Are all men that simple minded" when the little voice inside MY head said, "Yes! Yes WE men all are."

We moved into the restaurant for dinner. I love English cooking. It is hearty comfort food. Janey hates it for that exact same reason. And she has co-opted our daughter in her ongoing effort to drench the world in sauce and truffles.

Ada is German so of course she was on my side in this struggle. But the dear sweet girl is too devoted to Hilly to do anything but agree with her mother.

So as usual I was on the outside in that argument.

I admire Janey's care and attention to the upbringing of our daughter and her impeccably patrician breeding. So I leave all of the social guidance and judgment to Janey and just revel in my lack of class.

I know that Hilley loves me anyhow, no matter how low bred I actually am.

After dinner we went upstairs to our suite to get ready to go out.

Janey and I had planned a thing we do once in a while to spice up our relationship. Janey has a mouthwateringly creative imagination when it comes to sex. She also has a predator's hunting predispositions. She sometimes likes to indulge both of those instincts.

Before we met she would just hunt men when that need arose to do it. And of course she was the best there ever was at the ancient female rite of proving who the queen bitch was on any given night in any given bar.

But because she is totally and without question committed to our marriage and me, it is hard for her to be both huntress and faithful wife.

So we have a little game that we play that allows her to occasionally exercise her hunting skills within the bounds of our marriage.

We adopt fictional "characters" and we go to a high class club. The places we choose have to contain a selection of attractive and sophisticated men.

Our "characters" have a back-story, like "here for a convention", or "traveling on business", or in her case it is often "here to see my boyfriend but he stood me up."

Janey sits at the bar waiting to be approached. Her looks and body guarantee that that never takes very long. Then she engages in the small-talk that is required to decide whether she likes the man.

If she decides that her quarry for the evening is acceptable she allows the man to "romance" her. This all takes place in a very public and non-sexual way.

I sit somewhere else and wait until things have progressed to a point where the other guy thinks that he might have a chance to fuck her. Then I step up next to her and essentially "pick her up."

She makes a show of "deciding" and then chooses me, much to the disappointment of the other guy.

We then go up to my "room" as if I had just gotten lucky with a total stranger. The sex that triggers is always something deliciously naughty, just as if we were having a one-night stand.

When we can hold ourselves in character we even go through the uncomfortable morning-after rituals and "depart" by swearing to never tell our spouses about our little affair and also promising to "meet again."

Needless to say this little game has led to some spectacular escapades, without coming close to violating a marriage vow.

~

Janey

We were going to play one of my favorite games. It is a little elaborate and it takes some planning but it allows me to reenact the amazing thrill I got when I fucked Paul for the first time.

Essentially we go to the right kind of club, no pool halls or biker bars, and I sit until I am "picked up" by one of its denizens.

I always have a story about why I am there by myself. My favorite is that I have been stood-up, or sometimes just been dumped, by my boyfriend.

If I play the part right I convey my desire to get back at the bastard by sport fucking the first person I meet; maybe even YOU sailor.

That normally leads to a round of romancing where I can wind the fellow up, without violating any of the strict rules I have about loyalty to my husband.

I give Paul a little signal when I feel like I have played with the dude enough.

Paul will usually be sitting alone somewhere in the club, looking like an international man of mystery. Sometimes he will appear to have just walked in and spotted me. He will approach me with a line aimed at seducing me up to his room.

One time, with a devilish grin on his face, he even offered me money to fuck him. That got the shit beaten out of him later. But since I was in the role I went along with the plot twist of "Janey as hooker."

I learned in my teens that being successful on the meat rack depends as much on HOW you dress, as HOW you look.

If you cover up too much they can't see the goods and they will pass you by. If you dress too conservatively men won't come over because very few of them are there to engage in intellectual conversation. If you dress like a slut you are going to definitely attract men but you probably won't like what happens afterward.

I put on an expensive "little black dress" that showed off both my legs and my money. Sitting on any bar stool men can see your legs. And I know that mine are still perfectly shaped and toned.

My quads are especially well developed from dance as are my hip muscles and sitting with my legs crossed in a ladylike fashion presents a picture of female lushness that most men can't resist.

Of course I am aware that the endowment that seals the deal is my chest. But it is never a good idea to show off a lot of cleavage because a busty girl in a low cut sweater generally conveys cheap.

Instead I cover the goods with something expensive that buttons up above the swell of my breasts. The aim is to intrigue men; make them want to see what is under the dress. It also lets me put on a bra that is capable of hoisting the girls up to impressive standards.

Men don't realize that women like me can't get the job done with demi-cups. We need full sized industrial strength bras to support all of that weight and those don't coordinate so well with wispy tops.

I dressed and did my makeup and hair. My hair is cut in a classic long haired preppie bob, which gathers it softly around my face and makes it easy to maintain. And I never wear much makeup, just a little lip gloss and a little touch around my eyes.

My perfume is something specially blended for my body chemistry that I buy from a perfumery in Paris. Paul says that it drives him mad with lust every time I wear it, so I wear it a lot.

I had more than usual on tonight because I wanted to send a subliminal sexual message without giving any overt appearance that I was trying.

When I looked in the mirror I could see myself in all of my curvy, voluptuous glory.

I am aware that some men are not attracted to a woman with an hour glass shape like mine. But I am also aware that the men who like big breasts, tiny waists and powerful hips REALLY like the way I look. And those are the people I want to get to know better.

So seeing myself reflected in the mirror I was confident that I had pulled together the right lure for a stimulating evening.

~

Paul

We needed a room to go to because we were staying in a suite with our daughter and her governess and the dog. So I rented one very similar to the one we stayed in the last time that we were at the Baglioni. I told Ada that we would be in that nearby room, only for tonight.

Ada made it clear in her own Teutonic way that she knew what THAT meant. I made a mental note to give her a nice bonus.

Janey was dressed to kill in a short black cocktail dress that displayed a generous amount of her stunning legs and left intriguing mountains under her top.

She has the hugest most gorgeous eyes a woman could ever ask for and frankly she needs no makeup to enhance their loveliness. So, expertly made up the way she was tonight, her eyes were absolutely hypnotic in their depth and beauty.

Then she walked by me to the door, trailing a scent which nearly melted me into a pool of lust right there in the middle of the floor. The old cliché, "Shooting fish in a barrel" came to mind.

Since we had a few encumbrances in the form of Hilley and the dog we couldn't stray too far by having my "room" in another hotel. And we had business the next day. So we decided to keep the game in-house.

We took the elevator down to the bar kissing passionately. Then when the doors opened, we were two total strangers who went our separate ways.

I have to admit I took a long lingering look at that truly splendid ass twitching its way off into the distance on those five inch heels.

At that moment I experienced a sudden feeling of profound loss, like a passing cloud darkening a summer day. My inner voice commented, "And don't ever forget what it feels like to NOT have her in your life."

I thought to myself, "Sometimes my inner voice can be such a shortsighted asshole. The only thing that is ever going to separate her from me will be the grim reaper"

We were staying at the Baglioni and they have a very decent lounge right off the dining room, which is called the "Brunello." We were both eventually headed there but we were two strangers at that point.

Among her many talents Janey is an excellent actress, almost living the part she is playing. I didn't know who she was going to be tonight but I decided I was the lonely businessman, a part I played in real life many times before I was lucky enough to meet and marry her.

I went out into the street and bought a Times and a Sun. After a great day, it was raining hard and so I used the Sun to cover my head on the way back inside, I wasn't worried about getting the front page wet since the appeal of that paper is buried way behind there.

I was planning on sitting at a table reading my paper until she appeared. That turned out to be a bad idea since you would have to have the night vision of a wombat to read anything in that place. Instead, I decided to people-watch; which is something I like to do anyhow.

With the rain and the weekday evening the place was more-or-less empty. Janey had not made an appearance but there were six other people along the bar.

There were three guys in my general age range and relative occupational profile. There was a single guy who definitely had the appearance of somebody who was looking for company and two women down the bar who looked like professional women taking in a little refreshment after work. One was tall and the other was very short. Both looked drunk.

The single guy was big and good looking, perhaps thirty. He was drinking whisky neat. He looked like he worked out. And he wanted everybody there to know that. So he would occasionally flex his shoulders and neck muscles, while he admired the view in the mirror behind the bar.

I thought to myself, "I really hope she chooses that one because it will be a pleasure shutting that douche-bag down."

Then Janey made her appearance. It was obvious that she was playing "little girl lost" tonight.

She crept timidly to the bar radiating self-conscious. She exuded neglected housewife dressed up to go out on the town. The bartender came over to her and she looked confused and then asked for a rum and coke.

I knew that that selection was intended to convince everybody around her that she didn't hang around bars much. She slammed the first one and asked for another, making it obvious that she was steeling herself for her first foray into extra-marital sex.

It was a performance worthy of the Old Vic and frankly the prospect of giving this poor shy woman her first orgasm was even turning me on. That thought had clearly occurred to the single guy as well.

Janey, in a wonderful exercise in gamesmanship, had chosen a seat on the far end of the bar two seats past the drunk women. That meant that whoever chose to approach her would have to sit between her and them. They were getting rowdier by the minute.

Her sitting there was undoubtedly designed to throw any prospective lothario off his game.

If you knew why she was really there, you would have to marvel at how wonderfully practiced she was at the pickup game. She had really been single in barroom situations for only three years before marrying me. But she was obviously an apex predator.