Helen's Story

Then we slowed down and stopped, me still above Ash, my brain in shock that I had experienced such an intense climax. Toby slid out of me and went to the bathroom; I rolled off Ash's face and lay on my back on the bed, numb.

'Are you ok?' asked Ash.

'Hard to say,' I replied. 'I'm still getting over that orgasm.'

After Toby came back to bed Ash and I used the bathroom then we all got under the duvet, me sandwiched between the two lads. I fell asleep almost instantly, sated with wine and sex, and slept between Toby and Ash until the grey light of dawn started to define the dark shapes in the bedroom; a wardrobe and a chest of drawers, a washing basket, overflowing with clothes.

I shuffled down the bed without disturbing the boys and went and splashed some cold water on my face. I found my discarded clothes from last night and put them on, apart from my knickers. They were sticky and damp so I stuffed them in my handbag. On the bed Ash stirred and raised his head.

'Aren't you staying for breakfast?' he asked.

'I should go,' I said, and he nodded, understanding. I wanted to get out of the house before anyone saw me. There had been a few members of the supermarket staff at the party last night and some would undoubtedly have stayed over. I didn't want them to see me in the morning, in last night's kit. The HR manager who'd had a three-some at Kayleigh's engagement party wasn't a tag that I wished to acquire.

I went over and kissed him, smelling his morning breath. 'Thanks for last night.'

He smiled. 'Thank you.'

'And thank Toby for me,'

I slipped out of the room and went downstairs and through the front door, glad to get out into some fresh air after the fug of the bedroom. It was just after six o'clock and it was a cloudless, perfect spring morning. Birds chattering in the trees and bushes, not a soul about. I was wearing heels but it was only a couple of miles to my cottage. Plenty of time to process the events of last night. Examine the fact that I'd had a double penetration. What would Marcus think, I grinned to myself. What would Tom think? That made me pause, wondering why I kept thinking about Tom. I'd met him once, briefly, in the darkness of Crummock Water. I probably couldn't have picked him out in the street. It was odd, but in that fleeting encounter, I thought that I had met someone that I could connect with. Someone that might just understand me and who I might just understand. But hey ho. It was extremely unlikely that I'd ever see him again. And besides, he was engaged.

I got home and changed into my running gear. I didn't really feel like a run, I was a bit jaded after last night, but it was perfect outside so I went anyway and I did seven miles around the paths and byways that snake through the fields and woods behind my cottage and I got that wonderful buzz that I get from running so I was glad I'd made the effort. When I got back I had a very hot bath and had some breakfast and coffee on the patio and felt at peace with the world. Or almost. I was thirty-five and had no permanent man, or woman, in my life. And I'd just had a threesome with two complete strangers. I couldn't help thinking that life was passing me by. Something had to change.

Chapter Three -- Grace

I had a drink with Gemma after work a few days later and I told her about Ash and Toby. I didn't tell her about the DP.

'You lucky cow,' she squealed.

'Well not really,' I countered. 'They were hardly Mr Right.'

'Who needs Mr Right when you're getting fucked by two Mr Wrongs? Sorry!' She clapped a hand to her mouth and looked around but nobody else in the wine bar was taking any notice of us. 'Look, next Saturday, Helen, the girls are going for a night out in Liverpool. Few drinks, dinner at the casino and maybe play the tables and the slots, then off to a club. You will come, won't you? If you're not doing anything else that is,' she added. As if.

"The girls" were a motley collection of friends that we'd acquired over the years. Not bosom pals but I was comfortable with them and we usually had a laugh. 'Yeah,' I said. 'That sounds good.'

'And who knows who you might meet in the Grosvenor Casino?'

'The Grosvenor, eh? I'd better put some glad rags on.'

Gemma and I travelled into the city in a taxi on Saturday evening and met the rest of the girls in a bar in the Royal Albert Dock, near the casino. The girls had been in the bar for a while, judging by their voices and lack of inhibitions. I took it easy. I wanted to enjoy the evening, not get out of my face. A couple of hours later Gemma and I persuaded them that we needed something to eat to soak up the booze and we went off to the Grosvenor, an imposing looking building, where we'd booked a table for eight in the grill room. I had a couple of glasses of wine with the meal but I was still pretty sober after we'd finished and the party moved on to the reception to get some chips before heading for the slot machines.

I quite like the atmosphere of a casino, although I'm not really a gambler. Certainly the slot machines don't do it for me and I left the group and wandered into the main hall where the roulette and blackjack was going on. The place was moderately crowded; there were people at most of the tables. The dress was a mix of formal and casual. There were plenty of people in jeans and tops but there were also men in suits and tuxedos and women in full-length ballgowns, so I didn't feel out of place in my black cocktail dress. It's one of my favourites; halter-necked and a beautiful fit, making the most of my modest bust. On a whim I'd also put on some black stockings and suspenders. Well, you never knew.

I got a drink and wandered around for a few minutes and ended up standing by a roulette table in the centre of the room where a little crowd had gathered to watch a couple of Asian-looking guys place huge piles of chips on number seven. The crowd gasped every time the little silver ball snicked into a slot. And every time it wasn't seven, but the guys carried on. It was painful to watch.

I wandered off to another table and, on a whim, put a five-pound chip on number thirty-five. The wheel span and the ball raced around the rim and clattered over the divisions and ended up, as luck would have it, in the thirty- five slot. The croupier, a stunning blonde, smiled at me and pushed a great pile of chips at me. I'd won a hundred and seventy-five pounds! I loaded the chips into my handbag and wandered off again, stopping at the next table and putting a couple of bets on seventeen, my house number, and twenty-three, a random choice. I lost both and was about to move on when the lady next to me said, 'You'll be lucky to get a single number twice in one night.' I looked around and saw a tall, slender lady in a striking long, close-fitting dress in some sort of silvery material.

'You saw me at the last table?' I asked, smiling at her.

'Yes,' she smiled back, showing even, white teeth. 'I hope you don't mind, I followed you over. I thought maybe you'd make this a lucky table.'

She had shoulder-length blonde hair and a rather aristocratic face with a slightly hooked nose, a firm jaw and high cheekbones. At first glance I thought she was not much older than me, her figure was excellent, but I now noticed crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, faint lines on her cheeks and her upper lip. She was mid-fifties at least, I thought, maybe older.

'I'm Helen,' I said, suddenly, holding out my hand, deciding that I'd like to talk to this elegant lady.

'Grace,' she replied, taking my hand. Her grip was gentle, the skin of her hand soft. She wore no rings and there were faint brown liver spots on the back of her hand; her nails were painted silver to match her dress.

'Can I get you a drink?' I asked, patting my handbag and hearing the tinkle of chips. She smiled again, a wide, gentle smile, and followed me as I headed to the bar. We sat on adjoining stools at the counter and I ordered champagne, waving aside her protests. 'I'm nearly two-hundred quid up.'

'You won't be after you've paid for the champagne.' But I didn't care, even when I saw a bottle of the house fizz was eighty quid.

We sat and talked and she told me she was a widow, had been for a few years. She'd attended a nephew's wedding in Liverpool the day before and had decided to stay on in the city and give herself a night out. 'It's years since I've been in one of these places,' she admitted, but I always liked the atmosphere.'

I told her about myself and, as the level in the champagne bottle dropped to the halfway mark, we chatted easily, like old friends. She was good company. She had a fund of amusing stories and a wonderful, unassuming manner that made me warm to her. In fact I began to warm to her in a subtly different manner, feeling the stirrings of heat in my loins. I'd never particularly had a thing for older women, or men, though the idea had never turned me off. I'd just never had a much older partner. But now, sitting at the bar, I felt myself being attracted to this elegant lady. The way she spoke, her gentleness (or was it vulnerability?), the way she laughed, and of course her lovely figure. I tried not to stare and wondered privately what she would look like naked. What her breasts would feel like. Her nipples. And what she would taste like... I felt myself becoming wet and decided to change the subject.

'Do you play blackjack?' I asked.

'It's my favourite,' she replied. 'It's the only game in here where you get some sort of control. When I used to go to a casino regularly I'd usually leave it till last and have an hour at a table before going home. She looked at her watch. 'It's probably that sort of time.'

'Grace, would you excuse me for a moment?' I hadn't told her that I was with a party of lairy, drunken girls. The prospect of going on with them to a nightclub did not appeal to me in the least. Not now. The idea of staying here with Grace for another hour and seeing what developed was far more attractive.

The girls were still playing the slots, and they were quite drunk by now, Gemma included. I drew her to one side and explained that I'd met someone and wouldn't be going home with her that night. Gemma was brilliant: she gave me a big hug and said she hoped it worked out and then she rounded up the little party and they staggered off into the night, intent upon adventure. Well, so was I, I told myself as I went back to the bar.

We took the remaining champagne and found a blackjack table with a couple of spaces and a handsome, Mediterranean-looking croupier who said nice things about our dresses and stared at our breasts. We played for an hour and a half and I lost all the money I'd made and a bit more. Grace ended up about fifty pounds up.

'I'm so sorry,' she said as we got up from the table. 'You had rotten luck.' We stood together, a bit awkwardly.

'Would you like a nightcap, Grace?' I asked. 'I've had such a lovely time this evening it seems a shame to end it now.'

'Well let's not pay for another drink here,' she said. 'My hotel's only a few hundred yards down the road and I've got a bottle of champagne in my room. It was left over from the wedding,' she explained. 'It's in my fridge.'

I felt a little deliquescence in my guts at the idea of being in Grace's hotel room with her. 'That's a great idea, if you don't mind.'

Grace cashed in her chips and we went out into the balmy spring evening. It was after midnight but there were still plenty of people about in the dock area. The bars were packed and there were people spilling out onto the street and music blaring. It was quiet in Grace's sixth-floor room, with its giant bed and separate seating area. From the balcony you could look down on the crowded streets. Further out, the silent Mersey crept towards the sea. We stood together in silent intimacy on the narrow balcony, then Grace shivered and we went in and slid the window shut and Grace got the bottle of champagne out of the tiny fridge and I wrestled the cork out and poured us a glass.

We sat on the settee, side by side, looking out of the window at the starry sky. 'That's Orion, up there,' I said, remembering Ash. 'The hunter.' We sipped our drinks. Grace was very quiet. 'I hope you don't mind me saying this, Grace,' I said after a long silence, 'but I think you are a very attractive lady.'

She was quiet for a bit longer, staring down at her hands, which were clasping her glass in her lap. She looked up at me. 'Yes,' she said slowly, 'I wondered if you did.'

I gave a slight shrug. 'I'm sorry.'

'No,' she said, quietly, 'don't be sorry. I'm very flattered. You're a very lovely lady.' She paused again and the silence stretched. 'It's just that... I've... well, I've never, well, you know... Was I sending out signals,' she said at last, in a whisper.

'No,' I assured her. 'Nothing like that. I'm... well, I'm bi-sexual and I'm attracted to attractive ladies. It's no problem, I probably should be going anyway.' I made to get up but Grace took my arm.

'No, don't go, Helen. Please don't go.' There was a sob in her throat and I instinctively put my arm around her and drew her to me.

'Hey, it's ok.' But it wasn't ok. Grace started sobbing and I was horrified and held her and stroked her hair and soothed her and when the tempest had subsided I dug out my handkerchief and gave it to her and she dabbed her eyes and sniffed and tried to smile. 'Tell me about it,' I said softly.

'I've had such a nice time with you tonight and I didn't want to disappoint you but then I got cold feet.'

'What do you mean?' I asked, puzzled. 'Cold feet about what?'

'It's a fantasy I've had for such a long time,' she began. 'For years. I had this dream that I'd be in a casino and I'd see a beautiful lady across the table and our eyes would meet and we'd have a drink and then she'd take me to her room and seduce me. I never thought it was real. But then tonight I saw you and I thought: Grace, you're fifty-eight. If you never do it you'll regret it on your deathbed. So I went and talked to you and, well, you know, women can tell these things and I could tell you were interested in me, sexually and I was terrified and I nearly didn't go through with it but I did and here we are. But then I just froze. I've never done anything before, with a woman. And I'm frightened, Helen,' she finished, clutching at me.

I kissed the top of her head again, then her forehead and her cheek. She tilted her face to me slightly and I leaned down and kissed her lips. A tender brushing, nothing more. 'I can go now,' I said quietly, 'or I can stay and we can finish the mini-bar, or I can stay and we can make love. I would love to do that, but it's your choice, Grace.'

She was silent for a few minutes, dabbing her eyes with my hanky. 'I do want to, Helen,' she said eventually in a tone so low I could barely hear her. She stood up, putting her wineglass down on the coffee table. 'I'm going to repair my makeup,' she said.

I stood looking out of the window. Ten minutes later she came back into the bedroom and stood by my side and I turned to her and took her into my arms and she tilted her face to mine and our lips met and I tasted her lipstick and felt the warmth and softness of her lips and we kissed like that for a long time, tenderly, she with her hands on my bare shoulders, mine on her waist, feeling her slenderness and the mature flare of her hips.

When I felt the time was right I pressed her closer to me, feeling her breasts squash against mine, and opened my mouth and Grace opened hers to admit my tongue and I slid it in slowly, tentatively, giving her time to get used to the sensation of French kissing another woman. She tasted nice; she'd brushed her teeth when she went to the bathroom and I could taste the mint in her saliva. I pressed my body to hers harder, feeling my crotch against hers and she moaned into my mouth and gripped my shoulders and pressed her painted nails into my skin.

I put a hand on the back of her head, feeling the softness of her hair, and pressed her mouth to mine, mashing our lips together and feeling, for the first time, her tongue against my lips. I found the zip of her dress and slid it down to the small of her back and she stepped back from me and took her arms from the short sleeves and let it slip to the floor. Underneath she was wearing a simple white bra and matching knickers. Her long legs were bare, the thighs and calves toned and shapely, the ankles slim.

I smiled at her and unzipped myself, letting my dress fall to the floor. Then I unclipped my bra and shrugged it off. Grace looked at me, her hands together as if in prayer. 'You're beautiful. You're just as I imagined in my dreams.' She stepped towards me and held out her hand, tentatively, and I took it and put it on my breast and she stroked me and ran her finger over my stiff nipple and I shuddered with desire and reached for her and she came to me and we kissed again, urgently, sucking our tongues and lips into each other's mouths and exploring teeth and gums and lapping up juices. 'Oh, God,' she said, looking up at me. 'I've never kissed anybody like this before,' and my heart went out to this gentle, elegant lady.

It also made my desire, my need for her, burning and urgent. I unclipped her bra and her breasts swung free: full and round, with chocolate-dark areolae and big, rubbery nipples. There was some slight sagging and faint stretch marks but I was enchanted by them and I squeezed and kneaded the fleshy globes and sucked a big nipple into my mouth and Grace gripped me tighter, clutching my bum cheeks, running her fingers under my suspender straps.

'Shall we get onto the bed,' I suggested, kicking off my heels. Grace took off her silver court shoes and we scrambled onto the enormous hotel bed and she lay on her back and I lay half on top of her and I kissed her and stroked her and smelled her scent and nuzzled her neck and bit the skin gently and sucked her earlobes and she squealed and squirmed under me. I massaged her gorgeous breasts and suckled her nipples, feeling their firmness in my mouth, biting down on them and feeling her arch her back underneath me.

'Can I touch you?' she whispered and I rolled on my back and said, 'Yes, Grace, wherever you want.'

She reached out her hand, touchingly shyly, and cupped my breast, squeezing, fondling, feeling the firmness of the pert mound, fingering my little raspberry nipple. 'They're lovely,' she said. 'You're so lucky.' She dipped her head down and took a nipple in her mouth and I felt the little shivers of pleasure run down my body and turn my guts to liquid. Then she bit down on it softly and I gasped in pleasure and held her head tight to me and she sucked my flesh into her mouth, the nipple, the areola and the surrounding flesh and rasped her tongue up and down on the sensitive skin and I felt a wave of warmth and desire and I needed, really needed, to feel her cunt.

I lifted her head gently from me and she came up with her face flushed and eyes bright with excitement. I laid her on her back and, kneeling up, took the waistband of her panties in my fingers and thumbs and she raised her hips and I took her knickers off and threw them on the floor. Under her panties she had a dark brown bush of pubic hair, not that I'd imagined she was a true blond. The hair was thick, but neatly trimmed. A lady who took good care of her body. I lay down next to her and kissed her and let my hand slide slowly across her chest and down across her stomach, seeking and finding her springy bush, stroking the silky hair, finding her labia and feeling her gasp into my mouth as I gently parted her outer lips and found a hot, silky wetness inside. I pressed my palm to her vulva, massaging it, and sliding my middle finger into her sopping cunt hole. Her breathing was coming in ragged gasps and I could feel her heart racing in her chest. Grace was very aroused, very excited, and waves of tenderness and affection washed over me and I wanted to give this lovely lady such pleasure as she had never before experienced.