Always Turns Up Ch. 06

When I got back to London though I sought out some relief for my frustration. The Lesbian bars are not packed with tiny Sailor Moon cosplay artists, but there are a few pretty things to flirt with. I wasn't looking for a live in companion, but somehow ended up with two. Chinese students on an exchange year in England, who had found they could come out and live together, and a lot of the time with me. Back home their love would have been very disapproved of, but in London they were supposedly just sharing a flat to save on rent. And bed linen. They taught me some words in Mandarin, and I introduced them to double ended vibrating dildos with remote controls. I think it was a fair exchange. In the summer we travelled a bit. They wanted to see the continent, so of course we stayed in Paris, and then I took the opportunity to visit clients in Germany, and Spain. I didn't go with them to Italy. I retreated to Biarritz, and found that there was a little scene there that I had never known about.

Biarritz is a strange town. It isn't really a place for the super rich or the celebrities. The hinterland isn't dotted with mansions. But it has a large contingent of the wealthy and discrete French. It is upmarket, but not flashy. There are tourists aplenty, but mostly middle class. I think there are two tacky tourist shops in the whole town, near the Grand Plage, but nothing like the horrible rows of awful tat you see at the beach in other places. There are night clubs and so on, but there is also a quiet nightlife in the more exclusive hotels, although the casino is very non-exclusive. But if you know the right people you may be invited to private functions. Since I had spent some time in Paris, I found that one of my friends there was also in Biarritz, and she invited me to one such party. Suddenly I was in.

It wasn't a very louche group. Not wild orgies or anything. Well once yes, but not regularly. It was a sort of grown up, civilised, very French thing. Good dinners, good wine, and everyone having affairs with each other quite openly. Couples would often bring their mistress or gigolo, sometimes one of each as a pseudo couple. The husband in one long married couple was obviously gay. It appeared that he and his wife normally shared boyfriends, although she sometimes played with girls too. He didn't.

The first party was a small dinner, just a dozen, and as we were enjoying after dinner drinks my hostess asked me if I was tired. Since I said I wasn't she said, "I think things are going to break up soon, but please, hang back until after the Delacroix have left."

The Delacroix were the first to leave, along with another couple who had offered them a lift. As soon as she came back from seeing them out the door the hostess declared loudly, "Oh thank God they have gone! Somebody give me a drink!"

Instantly a champagne cork popped, and the real party began. The couple who had decoyed the Delacroix returned about half an hour later, to applause, and welcoming champagne cocktails.

My hostess was filling me in on the gossip, who was with who, and so on, and telling me about the wider circle. She promised me a proper party the next week, but warned me that as the evening went on it might get a little risqué. I told her I wouldn't mind that, and she said, "Yes. We guessed. That is why you didn't get a lift home early."

That gathering did get risqué. In the salon couples, not always those that arrived together, kissed and fondled, and even a little undressing went on, or hands roaming under clothing. But if things got heated they would break off and go to another room. The exhibitionists gathered in the morning room, the others sought out bedrooms and bathrooms and other less public spaces. But my hostess did not pair off with anyone, although her husband disappeared with another couple. There was also single man there; he had chatted with me earlier, and he made mildly suggestive remarks, but my hostess had shooed him away. At one point the two of us went to the door of the morning room to see what everyone was cheering about, and we watched the single young man standing on his hands as he performed a sixty nine vertically with a woman at least my age. It was quite impressive.

She kept me by her though, and asked me what I liked, so she could perhaps arrange for the right people to meet me, but in doing so she flirted a little. I made it clear that I was not adverse to female company. At some point nearing dawn my hostess said to me, "My bed is probably the only one not occupied. Would you like me to get you a taxi, or would you like to join me? I promise I won't rise before noon, at which time brunch will be served."

Brunch was becoming very fashionable in France at the time. It seemed churlish to refuse."

I laughed again. I actually wondered if I was laughing too much. Certainly I had not laughed as much in a long time. "Well, indeed, you could hardly snub your hostess."

"Quite." Said Penny, and she gave me quite lovely smile. She didn't say anything for a moment, and I asked her if something was wrong. "Oh no. Nothing wrong at all. I just... well I suddenly found it hard to believe that I am talking to you, telling you all this, and you are, well, enjoying it. So many other people would be judgemental. I... I had worried that you would be. I am sorry, I underestimated you."

She leaned forward and touched my hand, and said "I have missed you Sean. I could always talk to you, and you were always supportive. I missed your friendship."

Her touch was so soft, and so familiar, and so evocative of times past that I was silenced by it for a moment. All I could do was smile, and put my hand on top of hers, and look in her eyes. Drown in them. In the end I said "Thank you. Thank you for getting in touch. I have missed you too."

We were silent for moment, and then Penny looked over my shoulder and groaned, and pulled her hand back, saying quietly "Oh God." A sudden smile came over her face, and she said loudly, "Oh, Seb! How good to see you! I didn't know you were in town."

"Miranda, darling, it has been far too long!" Said a very posh English man just behind me.

"Is Beth with you?"

"Yes she has come up, but not here. She has a thing with the Blue Rinse Brigade tonight, and I am entertaining some ghastly Yanks. Business, you know. Awful types, but they have pots of money. I spotted you and had to come over, I don't suppose you are free tomorrow? Soirée at the Townhouse? Beth would love to see you, it must be at least a year..."

Penny glanced at me and said "Oh I am so sorry, Seb, I have plans for tomorrow evening, but I could drop by just after lunch, for a chat if that suits?"

"Splendid, splendid! See you then."

The man hurried off. Penny looked relieved. "I am sorry I didn't introduce you, but if I had he would have felt obliged to chat, and while Beth is a dear, Sebastian is a pompous ass and a bore. I would much rather spend the time with you."

"I am flattered." I said.

She laughed then, and said "So you should be. I don't tell my tales to everyone you know. Shall we push on? We have got to about 2012. Only five years to go."

"Do we have enough time?" I asked. "When do they close the bar? Knowing you this could take hours." I was smiling, so she did not take that badly.

"Oh we have about an hour, or so. Which should do. Well, where were we. Oh yes. My entry to the demi-monde of Biarritz was also my passport to the private salons of Paris. It was a larger circle, with some unpleasant fringes, but it overlapped with a few English people of a similar ethos. So back in London I was introduced to a whole new nightlife as well. The English version was perhaps less inclusive than the French. My title was almost a necessity for entry. It was all, very discrete of course. But I am getting ahead of myself.

Back in Biarritz, I spent the summer going to nice dinners, the theatre, the piano festival and parties. As the new woman in the group I got quite a lot of attention, but it was all very casual and friendly. Absolutely unlike the sort of thing that Leo and Tilly had been part of. I actually spent the first few weeks almost as a couple with Marguerite, my first hostess. We occasionally took a man with us, but it was strange to be in bed with a man again. Especially with an older man. I think I was still having flashbacks to Leo and his gang, and also to Morgan. Older men were threatening. But there were several younger men, in their twenties and thirties, who it didn't feel like I was cradle robbing, and who Marguerite had obviously been with before, who were gentle and kindly, and helped my self esteem.

In Paris in the autumn Marguerite introduced me to many more people, and to her husband. He had disappeared after the first party, so I had hardly got to speak to him. He been busy over the summer in India, working with a car company on setting up a new factory. He thanked me for looking after his wife by giving me an all over massage, with her help. Then another couple joined in, and another few people also stepped up to the table. I found myself being caressed by a dozen hands, or maybe more, and mouths and tongues came into play. I had experienced something like it before, in an orgy at Leo's, when predatory masters and their order-obeying slaves had feasted on me, but this was different. The mouths sucking my toes and fingers and nipples were gentle, not possessive. The hands caressed me, sometimes strongly, but were not snatching at my flesh. Their intention was my pleasure, not their own, although I hope they enjoyed it. But I know I enjoyed it more than any of them. It was the most intense, the longest lasting, the most trans-figurative orgasm I had ever had. They didn't stop. They just made me come again and again, and again, until I was on the verge of passing out. Then they let me get my breath, and did it again. As 'thank you' presents go, it was a good one."

"That sounds like fun." I said

"Yes. They could sort of do the same for men. By using pressure on the base of the penis to stop ejaculation, you can get a man to orgasm several times, but I don't think it is the same. Tiresias was making it up, but he told the truth. For me it was almost too much. I was sort of stoned, shocked, blitzed, afterwards. Blissed out for a long time, hardly aware of my surroundings. Apparently that is quite common. I came round slowly, to find I was being cuddled by Marguerite and another woman I didn't know. They always did that. I took part in dong it to other people sometimes, after watching and being instructed a few times. I had it done to me another half dozen times over the next few years, and it was always just as intense. I even introduced the idea to the English scene. But it wasn't the same.

The English crowd was not as relaxed. Too much aristocratic arrogance and entitlement I think. In France it was bohemian and egalitarian, and organised almost entirely by the women. Hostesses insured that it was never exploitative. If the women didn't like you you didn't get invited. It was primarily a social group which happened to involve casual and fun sex. In England there was a slightly competitive nature to it, and you knew the men had more say. Wives invited people, but the husbands had veto on guests, and sometimes I think they invited to compete. Who had the best food, the best wine, the biggest house or apartment, or country estate. Who had the best grouse shooting. Who had the wildest party. They sometimes brought in hired help. Party girls, and boys. At times it veered towards a sex club, rather than a social life. But there was a core of free thinking and freewheeling, decently indecent, people, who I got to like. People who just wanted fun, and don't mind if you didn't have a box at Cheltenham."

"Is that where you met Sebastian?" I asked, and again realised I was a little jealous.

"Oh Lord no! Oh. The very idea. No, no, I met Beth through my charity work. Although now you mention it I suspect she might be up for some fun, Seb wouldn't do at all. He went to Eton of course, but for all his high class accent and airs, he is a Northern factory owner's son. Trés Riche, but trés nouveau. All he talks about is money and horses. Would not fit in at all. Well, if he stuck to horses he would be ok, but, also he is somehow not attractive. Too eager to be liked."

I felt strangely better about that. What she said next gave me mixed feelings, which I found hard to immediately reconcile. The later it got the faster my head was working, as my medication had worn off some hours before, and I was in an underlying high period. Not manic, just a bit buzzy, a bit faster. But I knew that could become too fast, and my attention span could easily be disrupted. It was probably not a good idea to put off taking the meds for more than anther hour or two at most. So the unexpected jealousy mixed with unexpected pride in how much she had grown made what Penny said both painful and heart-warming.

"I could of course give you a long version of the next few years. Full of little adventures, interludes and encounters, as I drifted through the social circles of London and Paris, Biarritz and Fez, where there is a sort of French expat community in which having a toy boy is practically compulsory for both men and women. But perhaps I should reserve those tales for another time. The short version is that I, well, I didn't decide, but I came to realise, that my physical lustful needs and pleasures were more than adequately catered to by my social circle, and that I really didn't want a man any more. Certainly not a husband. Or even a regular lover. I was enjoying the freedom, the independence, and for the first time, I felt that I was whole. A person in my own self. Financial security of course helped that feeling. But I realised I was fed up entirely with work, and other people depending on me. So I began to slim down my portfolio.

I sold off the courier company and the cleaning services. I encouraged the nursery company managers to buy me out, but I still held onto the property which they rent, and that gives me a fairly hassle free income, through an agent."

"Sorry, Nursery company?"

"Oh had I not mentioned that? You wouldn't believe how much money there is to be made in looking after kids. But it is a lot of work, and fortunately I had good managers. I was happy to help them to buy me out in the end. The sex toy thing had been a lot of fun, but it was also easy to sell my share. So I bought some more property, to rent out, and put the rest into solid shares and bonds. The only thing left was the modelling agency, and it was frankly dying. So I closed it in 2015. But a little spin off company came out of it, and I have been busy getting it running. That has been fun. But I have also been making it stand alone, and training management for it over the last couple of years so I can be hands off. So here I am, up to date, 2017. Independent, comfortably well off, with no real responsibilities. It makes for a stress free life. A bit like the one you have been pursuing, I suppose. Footloose and fancy free, with time to read naughty stories in Literotica, and catch up with old friends."

"And to tell naughty stories too," I added. "I have enjoyed listening. And I would like to hear more. I suspect you have skipped over things. And I want to hear more about these charities and places in Morocco and your travels, and, oh, all sorts of things..."

"But?" Said Penny. "I can hear a 'but' coming. Oh, of course, the time. Oh Sean, I could talk all night, but, and you are quite right to say it, but, it is time I put you in a taxi isn't it?"

I had to agree. I was beginning to feel a little strange. I took my medication with the last of the ginger beer, while she asked a waiter to call a cab. There are always cabs at the Ritz, so she ushered me out of the bar and down to the door, and saw me to it. As I was about to get in she said "Tomorrow then? I will be on the train arriving just before three? Is that Ok?"

"Perfect." I said.

She leaned forward and gave me a slight hug, and kissed me on the cheek, and said "I look forward to it. Take care." And then just as she was about to release me she looked deeply into my eyes and the world stood still. She kissed me, on the lips. Very lightly. Very briefly, gently, but deliberately. Not a quick peck, but not longer than half a second. Just long enough to stun me. Then she said "Sleep well, Sean." And stepped back.

By the time I got to Gatwick and into the van I was close to collapse. My mind had been whirling during the taxi ride from central London. Tiredness, medication taken a little too late, all the things Penny had told me over the last several hours, and then that final moment, that tiny half second kiss that seemed to say even more. It had thrown me. Thrown me ten feet in the air and I wasn't sure how to get down.

But that sort of tornado of mental action has a cost. My brain burns through all its reserves, and with the drugs kicking in I suddenly slump. I barely made it up the steps of the van, and I hit the bed still dressed.