Eleanor Pt. 03

FIVE

'Anyway,' Soria had said, 'I know you prefer the company of women.'

How could this woman she had never met know about her life, about things that were so personal, when she had striven so hard to keep her private life just that - private?

'Aidra!' Eleanor murmured, just loud enough for Soria to hear.

The very girl she had just been thinking about. She must have boasted about her conquest of a member of the senior management team to her colleagues and the gossip reached Robert, who had passed it on to his wife. The truth turned out to be rather different, as Eleanor was about to learn. But she was half right: the pixieish blonde was at the fulcrum of events.

'Did she tell you about us?' the Persian woman asked her, with a note of disapproval in her voice. 'Did she tell you our story?'

'No,' said Eleanor flatly. 'It's just that - well, that if you were going to hear such things about anyone in the company, it would most probably be from her.'

'I will tell you what she did to me,' said Soria, as if she herself had no part in the matter, which Eleanor could scarcely believe, 'and then I will give you my gift.'

Eleanor shuddered at Soria's words - a reaction that did not go unnoticed by the enigmatic woman with the aquiline nose and the slender build.

'It was two years ago - maybe a little more now. I was changing the sheets in our bedroom when I discovered an earring. It wasn't mine, of course. It was a clip-on one, quite stylish, not cheap. My first thought was that my husband had brought a whore to the house while I was away visiting some friends who live in Norfolk. I confronted him and he confessed immediately. It seemed to be a big weight off his mind. He told me he'd never been unfaithful before but he had succumbed to temptation with a girl from the office. I asked him who it was, since I had visited the office just half a year before, and he told me I wouldn't know her, since she had only joined recently. I asked him to show me a photo and he said he didn't have one. I said I didn't believe him and told him not to lie to me if he wanted me to stay with him. Otherwise, I would contact my lawyer first thing in the morning.

He showed me this photo of a beautiful blonde girl on his phone (the phone he used for his personal calls) and I knew there and then that I must have her. It would be the sweetest revenge I could work on him. I told him to give me his phone, and I told him exactly what I was going to do - how I was going to seduce her. He didn't say anything but I could tell that he was very excited about the idea. He knew I had been with women before we were married. What he didn't know is that I had been with three or four since we were married. I don't honestly think he would have cared even had I told him. But I wanted there to be some secrets between us. It kept me young and it kept me hungry - two qualities that Robert liked in me very much. It was, as you can see, very much a win-win situation.

'I told my husband to arrange another meeting with her at our house, telling her I would be away again. This time, though, it was he who went off to stay with a friend up north somewhere on the pretext he had some work up there. I messaged her on the afternoon of the day we had arranged to meet after work, telling her to go in through the back door, which had been left unlocked. I told her to have a shower in the bathroom off the master bedroom, and that I would be home not long after to pick up where we had left off last time. I even told her that I would arrange a surprise for her. All illicit love affairs thrive on surprises, as you have probably learnt, Eleanor.

Of course, I was already in the house when she arrived and I sneaked into the bathroom while her back was turned in the shower and removed all the towels from the room. I had already taken the clothes which she had left scattered on the bedroom floor (what a slob she was, I thought!) and placed them in a drawer, together with her earring. Yes, I know I was very magnanimous in letting her have it back, but odd earrings are such a bore, aren't they?

When she finished in the shower, where she took an age (as I was later to find out, shaving her legs and other places in order to make herself as desirable as she could for Bob) she fussed about in the bathroom, looking in the various drawers for a towel and finally calling out to Robert to 'stop mucking about.' That's funny, I thought. Those were almost the exact words I would use with her to tell her to steer clear of my husband if she valued her well-being.

When she stepped into the bedroom from the entrance to the bathroom, she saw me standing there, only a matter of feet way, wearing a long Persian robe, which buttoned down the front. I had experimented with different postures, but the one I decided to use was the classic arms across the chest look of disapproval.

'Who are you?' she said, as if she genuinely didn't know. 'Could you let me have a towel, please?'

I could see what Bob saw in her. She looked like a bimbo, but she didn't lack nerve.

'I'm Robert's wife,' I said, pausing to see what effect this would have on her, but she seemed to take it in her stride.

'Perhaps you could tell your husband I am here,' she said, as if she really thought he had told me about their affair and wanted me to be in on it.

'He's four hundred miles away,' I said. 'I sent him away so that I could decide what I wanted to do with you.'

'Where are my clothes?' she said, looking around her. ''I'll get dressed then I'll be off. There seems to have been a misunderstanding.'

'You'll be going nowhere until I say you can. Your clothes have been folded neatly and put with the earring you left here when you fucked my husband behind my back. You will get them when I've finished with you.'

She stood there, with little streams of water running down her body onto the carpet, which, I thought, would need fixing. But that could wait. She wasn't covering herself up. She just kept her hands by her sides as if she were an artist's model. I was quite impressed with her sangfroid, and more than impressed with her body. I knew I was going to have so much fun with her and only regretted that she wasn't going to be a virgin. However, that was where I was wrong. As I was going to find out soon, she had never been with a woman. Finally, she spoke the words I had been waiting for.

'What do you want me to do?'

'I think it would be fair if you did to me everything you did for my husband. Don't you agree?'

'But he's a man,' she said, seemingly confused.

'Did you please him?' I asked her.

'I think so,' she answered with commendable modesty.

'Then, you shall please me in the same way.'

'But, but, I'm not - I mean I've never done anything like that.'

It's funny looking back, but what turned me on most at the time was the fact that she couldn't bring herself to use the word 'lesbian.' I took it as a kind of challenge - to have her saying it before the night was over; even more, to have her embracing it and living it.

'You're shivering,' I said to her, thinking I might start to break her down by showing her a little compassion. 'Come her, onto the bed.'

She got on the bed but wasn't sure if she ought to get under the covers or what.

'Don't worry,' I told her. 'I'll warm you up.'

From the look in her eyes I could see that she got my message all right. But from the look of apprehension I now knew that she had been speaking the truth, that she had never been with another woman. I felt so aroused that I had to compose myself. I got on the bed myself, still wearing my long green-patterned robe, and asked her to come to me. She shifted across the bed. She kept her legs together, which I found both pleasing and stimulating: the fact that she was not throwing herself at me, quite the opposite, was doing nothing to encourage me, was all the aphrodisiac I needed. I noticed that her nipples (naturally big) had become even bigger. When I complimented her on them, she became very embarrassed, which I couldn't understand. Did she not realise how lovely, she was, I wondered? Did my husband's mistress lack confidence in herself? I confess I was mystified.

I asked her to unbutton my garment. I had decided I was going to be harsh with her, show her no civility, but my plan had gone out of the window. She was - how do you say it? - disarming me. She started with the button under my neck, but had trouble undoing it. She became very apologetic, worried that she would hurt me with her fingers, but I told her she was doing fine - the button was tight, she just needed to keep trying and it would come. She used one hand to pull the material as far from my throat as possible, so she wouldn't hurt me, and it was all I could do not to throw her on the bed and eat her out. She was having such an effect on me!

Finally, she got the button undone. When she had done so, she gave me the cutest look, like a puppy looking for affirmation, and again I had to stop myself from driving my tongue down her sweet throat. Of course, I could have done what I wanted with her, but I knew I would ruin it if I did. And I wasn't thinking about her; I was thinking about me. She kept unbuttoning me until she got to the point that she knew that if she went any further she would start to reveal my breasts. She asked me if I wanted her to keep going. I told her yes. I was going to tell her that I wanted her to undo every single button, but I thought she might check again when she got to my vagina, and I wanted that very much.

When my breasts were fully revealed, I asked her if she liked them. I could tell that she was thinking how she ought to answer the question, what sort of answer I wanted her to give. After some time she gave me her response. She said they were the most beautiful breasts she had ever seen. I could have asked her how many she had seen but I didn't want to break the magic. Without being asked, she kept undoing the buttons until my pubic hair became visible. While before, she had been looking not at my body but at points around the room while she undressed me, now her focus was on my body. Her eyes were virtually sticking out on stalks. Only two or three more buttons had been undone and my pussy was sitting there right in front of her. It was difficult for her to undress me without touching it, but she had managed that.

I had been kneeling on the bed, but now I lay down. She didn't need my instructions. She bent low over me and her nimble fingers undid the rest of the buttons. I waited to see if she would take the initiative, and she did. She asked me to get up so that she could help me out of my robe. I stood next to the bed. Rather than do it while kneeling on the bed, she got off the bed too, walked behind me and slipped it off my shoulders.

'Thank you,' I said to her.

Any anger I felt towards her had disappeared. I went and got a towel, came back, told her her hair was still wet and dried it off. She thanked me and then, standing there, we kissed. I can't even say I initiated it. She kissed so well that I couldn't believe it was her first time with a woman. Then, I realised she was kissing me the same way she would kiss a man, and I was suddenly angry, jealous. You can tell the effect she was having on me.

I told myself to calm down and act my age. She was keeping her hands by her sides and then I realised so was I. So I brought them to her face and was about to tell her to do the same when she did it by herself. Her hands were so soft. I hadn't felt anything like that for years. I ran my hands down her back and onto her bottom. I massaged each buttock softly and slowly. And still we kissed. We kissed for long minutes until she stopped and with an anxious look on her pretty face asked me if she could touch my breasts. She told me once again they were the most beautiful she had ever seen and once more I refrained from asking her how many she had seen.

When I gave her my permission, she brought her hands to them, staring at them as she did so. She used her fingernails to run rings round them and, perhaps mistaking my moan for a sigh of displeasure (more probably, teasing me) asked me if she was doing something wrong. I told her she was doing fine and ran my hands through her short hair as she started to exert more pressure on my boobs. I didn't need to look down to know that my nipples were standing on end. And she hadn't even touched them.

And she didn't touch them - not for a long time. And when she did touch them, it wasn't with her fingers. She had begun to dig her fingers into my breasts in a way I wasn't familiar with but it was driving me crazy. I was groaning almost continually now and was telling her not to stop. She let one finger from each hand trace circles around my areoles, telling me how beautiful they were. She might have been a first-time lesbian but she was a first-class tease, knowing what I ached for but not giving it to me. I suddenly realised she wanted me to beg her. I gave in almost immediately.

'Please!' I said, part of me hoping that would be enough, but part of me hoping it wouldn't.

'Can I do better?' she asked in an angelic voice.

How badly I wanted to throw her on the bed and fuck her brains out, but I wanted to experience everything that I knew was on offer, in order, without rushing anything or ruining anything.

'You're doing wonderfully,' I told her. 'Now I want you to pleasure my nipples. They are aching for your touch.'

It was as if I had flicked a switch. Still standing there, she brought her mouth to my boob, and encircling it without touching it, shot her tongue out.

'Fuck!' I cried, as her tongue made mincemeat of my proud nipple.

'The other one!' I told her, desperate beyond words.

She came off my nipple, but not to attend to the other one. For the first time that evening, she told me off, rebuking me for my impatience. I felt ashamed and actually asked her forgiveness. She kissed me deeply by way of absolution, tweaking my nipples in her fingers with more pressure than she had used up to that point. Once more I found myself moaning - this time right into her mouth - but all thoughts of sharing my opinions with her had been banished for ever.

I didn't have to wait long before she was sucking on the same nipple again, but this time she was sucking it as if she really meant it, with real ferocity. It may sound strange, but for the very first time in my life I felt as if I was going to achieve an orgasm merely by having my boobs sucked. And that girl (the first-time lesbian) knew this and had her own solution to the problem.

Of course I should have thought about it, but caught up in the moment I hadn't. But she had. She dropped one hand to my vagina and pushed a finger inside me. I nearly went wild. Actually, I did, screaming out and telling her not to stop and I imagine a lot of other things.

When I recovered, I told her she was a very bad girl for lying to me about not being with a woman before. But she told me she wasn't lying, she was just doing to me what she liked having done to her - by men. You know, I still don't know if I believe her, but I have learned that there are some things which it is better that you never know. Some things were made to be kept secret, and if we try to force the truth out we do so at our peril.

At this point, I decided I needed to take control of proceedings. My intentions for the evening had been quite simple: I would finger her to a climax and then send her packing with a warning never to go near my husband again. There was to be no intimacy and I hadn't even dreamt of the scenario which had played itself out whereby I was being pleasured by her and dominated by her.

I realised that if I wanted to exert my authority I needed to act quickly, especially as her finger (make that 'fingers' now - I don't know when the others had joined) was still in my pussy. I raised myself on my elbows on the bed, intending to tell her to take her fingers out of my private parts, but she pushed my back onto the bed. Quite roughly. Well, anyway, not politely, like she had been up to now. I started to try and say something but she used her free hand to cover my mouth.

'I know how much you want me,' she said.

She wasn't smiling or anything now. She was all business. I raised myself back onto my elbows, but - shame on me - I was doing it now to test her, to see if she would push me back on the bed again. Of course, she did. She told me to stretch my hands out above my head, and I complied instantly. My plans had been completely blown out of the water. I knew what was coming next, she knew what was coming next, and yet it was incredibly erotic. I remember I was breathing heavily as if I had just climbed several flights of stairs. She was clearly revelling in my discomfort. She had got me where she wanted me. In almost no time too. She was going to make me beg.

She took her fingers out of my pussy and knelt there, looking in turns at my tortured face and my molten core. I told myself over and over not to say anything to her. If she wanted to tease me, well and good. I would ride out the storm and then I would tell her to leave the house and keep away from my husband. But she could read my mind and she was always one step ahead of me.

'Do you want me to go?' she asked with a faint grin.

I wanted to shove that grin down her throat. She repeated her question, even though she knew the answer to it and knew that the answer hadn't changed in the ten seconds since she first asked it. She pretended to take my silence as my wish for her to leave and made as if to get off the bed.

'Stay there!' I said, keeping my hands above my head, though I have no idea why.

But I did really; it was because I was afraid she would leave me and I didn't want to do anything to make her unhappy. I had become her slave. I knew it, she knew it. I opened my legs wider for her. I felt like a brazen slut. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with one foot on the floor and the other leg tucked under her. She had half turned her back on me, but she kept her gaze on my face.

'Tell me what you want me to do to you?' she said, matter of factly, with no note of triumph in her voice.

But she didn't need to crow or anything like that. She had me where she wanted me. She had won.

'Eat me out!' I said, spreading my legs even further apart.

This time I was determined to last longer than a few seconds. I hated the idea that she would think I was inexperienced, and I hated even more the idea that she could toy with me like a killer whale with a seal pup, with the option of finishing me off at absolutely any moment she wanted.

She lay down flat on the bed and crawled towards me commando-style. She put her hands on the underside of my knees and pushed so that my legs were raised into the air.

'Please, no!' I whispered, utterly transparent in my disingenuousness.

When her tongue touched me down there I almost lost it immediately. Somehow, though, I managed to hold myself together, although it was as if pins and needles were shooting through me. She was just licking me up and down but I wasn't sure how much more I could take. When she looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes, I had to look away. I was determined to hold out, even though I knew I had no chance. She moved her tongue to my clitoris and I knew the game was up. She just kept it there without moving it, watching me with those dreamy eyes. At some point I had moved my hands to her head and they refused to deal in deception, telling her in the clearest possible terms what they wanted from her.

She used a couple of fingers to isolate my clitoris and then blew on it. I shuddered and she smiled. Then I felt a finger on my clit. Again, like the tongue, she didn't move it at all; it just sat there, as if it were awaiting instructions.