Jade Pt. 07

20

It took a week or so to arrange, but finally the evening arrived when Jade and Hunter were at home to Fatima and Marc Landon. To account for the fact that what appeared to be little more than perfect strangers were being invited over for dinner by their dentist and her husband, Hunter and Marc had met up and constructed a back story. This was made easier by the fact that they both had backgrounds in the financial industry and that they got along very well.

Once Marc had got over the fact that Hunter was cool with him having fucked his wife, he relaxed considerably. When he showed the older man some photos of Fatima, it was Hunter's turn to coo in appreciation of the other's spouse. Looking a little older than her 26 years, Fatima might easily have been a fashion model. She certainly had the figure for it. She was curvier than your average model, but the combination of the aquiline nose, the high cheekbones and those dark eyes, together with that voluptuous figure meant she was a real knockout. Secretly, Hunter hoped she would be wearing a headscarf when she arrived, as it added an exotic element to her persona that enhanced her sexuality. Then, of course, there was the frisson of excitement he hoped to feel when he removed it from her head before moving in to kiss her.

Spare a thought then for the condition of Hunter's heart when he opened the front door and there beside Marc was this goddess - in the flesh! And so much flesh! And so devourable!

While Marc was dressed similarly to Hunter in open-neck shirt and chinos, Fatima's choice of outfit almost had Hunter performing cartwheels in the driveway. Not only had she chosen a traditional royal blue gown with a white trelliswork pattern on the front and collars, but her stunning face was framed by the beautiful hijab of which he had been dreaming.

He wanted to kiss her on the cheeks, but contented himself with a handshake, taking care not to press her dainty hand with too much vigour, while unable to resist the urge to hold on to the clasp for a little longer than was strictly necessary.

Hunter took his guests through to the kitchen, where Jade was making a sauce for the lamb dish she was serving. She was dressed in the clothes she wore around the house - sweatshirt and yoga pants - but that didn't stop Marc from giving her the once-over. Whether this was picked up by Fatima, I can't be sure, but it certainly didn't go unnoticed by Hunter. Or by Jade herself...

Hunter suggested they got out of Jade's hair and went through to the sitting room, but Jade said she'd got everything covered and maybe Hunter would like to get their guests a drink, and they could stay and chat in the kitchen. Hunter duly complied, intuiting that his wife wanted to keep things as informal as possible for Fatima, who was of course the great unknown in this social experiment.

Jade joined Fatima in having a mineral water, while Marc and Hunter each had a craft beer, an IPA for the host and an amber ale for his guest. Standing by the kitchen table chatting, their eyes kept looking over towards the stove, where Jade was putting the final touches to her Béarnaise sauce. Fatima, who used lamb a lot in cooking, had never made this particular accompaniment, and was asking Jade about the ingredients. Meantime, the aromas emanating from the oven (where not only the leg of lamb, but potatoes, carrots and parsnips were being roasted) held promise of a fine meal to come.

When Jade asked Hunter if he would keep an eye on things while she went upstairs to change - there was also some cabbage that needed steaming and some gravy to be made - Fatima immediately intervened to say she would be happy to look after things. More from selfish motives than anything else, Hunter countered with a polite but firm refusal, suggesting the three of them stayed in the kitchen until Jade came down again. What he was thinking about was that gorgeous gown the pale skinned regal looking Pakistani woman was wearing. He didn't want it to be stained or even imbued with the aromas of the kitchen.

Marc followed Jade longingly with his eyes as she left the kitchen and headed upstairs. What he wouldn't have given to help her undress, or to wash her back when she stepped into the shower. Fortunately, his wife didn't see the look he gave the departing Jade, as she was, as both Jade and Hunter had hoped, slowly but surely falling under the muscular Australian's spell.

She stood beside him as he shredded the cabbage, marvelling at his culinary skills and thinking how lucky Jade was to have him for a husband. Marc by contrast hardly knew how to boil an egg. She had not found this unusual in any way before she married him, because her own father and brothers would never have been seen dead in the kitchen. But now that she had become more used to the way things were done in England (although she had arrived in the country as a ten-year-old, she had lived a very sheltered life until she met Marc, even returning to Pakistan for her university studies), she realised that there were a lot of men like Hunter.

'Only not so handsome!' she found herself thinking, castigating herself for having such thoughts, especially about a man who was old enough to be her father, and married, to boot.

Needless to say, Hunter was in seventh heaven with the woman standing so close to him. He could detect aromas of cinnamon and nutmeg in the light scent she was wearing. Even more encouragingly, he knew that she was sneaking peeks at him as he worked at the hob, wearing the fancy washed canvas apron that Jade had bought him for Christmas.

Marc was pleased to see how well his wife was getting on with the laid back Australian. Although Hunter's plan had revolved around Jade breaking down Fatima's resistance by introducing her to the joys of girl-girl sex, Marc had felt dubious from the start about whether that represented the most prudent approach. Same-sex relationships were almost unthinkable for someone from Fatima's background. Indeed, he had been taken aback by some of the comments she had made about gay couples.

There was the time on their honeymoon that a man had congratulated the pair of them on their recent marriage, telling them that he was also there on his honeymoon. When he was joined in the lounge where they were awaiting a cabaret by his husband, Fatima had whispered in Marc's ear that she wanted to leave. On that occasion, Marc had put his foot down and told her that such an action would appear very rude, and reluctantly she had stayed and watched the show. But she barely spoke to the newlyweds, causing her husband no little embarrassment.

Then there was the occasion when she was waiting for Marc at a designated meeting spot in a department store and she had been approached by a woman. Fatima had been so scarred by the experience that she had kept it to herself for weeks. When she finally related the story, while ostensibly she received the comfort and reassurance she was looking for from her husband, look a little below the surface and Marc's heart was pounding uncontrollably.

He had been desperate to find out what the woman was like - anything, like whether she was old or young, black or white, a hooker or a regular woman. Craftily, he showed no interest in the other party, focusing only on his wife and her horrific experience, hoping against hope that she would drop some hint about the woman who had been preying on her.

His plan worked a treat. Suddenly she said that what had disgusted her most was that she was a married woman like herself. She knew that because while she was 'pestering' her, she received a call and, putting her hand over the phone melodramatically, winked at Fatima and mouthed 'husband' at her. Fatima told Marc she wanted to leave her right then but felt it would make her look impolite.

'Some young women these days are like that, I guess,' said Marc casually, embarking on a full-scale fishing expedition.

'Oh, no!' she had replied. 'She was nearly twice my age!'

Marc's libido was totally off the scale when Fatima told him this story. How much he had wanted to ask her more questions. What words had she used? Did she touch Fatima at all? Did she give her her number? That night they made love with a passion which took them both by surprise. Except that Marc had to feign his surprise. He had been walking around with an erection ever since his wife had told him the story over dinner.

'No,' Marc told himself. 'If they were going to see any action that evening, then the key person would be Hunter.

Finally, Jade came down and as far as Marc was concerned the wait had been well worth it. She looked stunning in a cheongsam-inspired floral maxi dress, which was almost unspeakably seductive on every level, from the eye-catching underbust and chest cut-outs to the thigh-high slit.

The contrast which the provocative outfit made with Fatima's modest elegance was about as marked as it could be. While Marc stood there open-mouthed and Fatima looked down at the floor, Hunter told his wife she looked very beautiful, as if this was the sort of thing she wore every night for dinner.

'Shall we go through to the dining room?' he added, offering his arm to the shell-shocked Fatima.

Taking his cue from his host, Marc offered his arm to Jade, who took it, though not without a glance at Fatima. She saw the colour rise to her guest's cheek, although she suspected that the main target of her displeasure was not Jade but her own husband.

Once they had sat down at the dining table, Hunter went back to the kitchen to get the food. Fatima, who was sitting next to her husband and opposite Jade, scarcely knew which way to look. If she looked straight ahead, she was confronted by the channel of flesh that separated Jade's breasts and if she looked at her husband, she would scarcely be able to keep herself from demanding that they went home straight away.

When she felt his hand on her knee, she felt disgusted - disgusted almost to nausea. How could he sit there and not care how violated she felt? That woman was dressed like a whore! Thank goodness that she would have Hunter's reassuring presence beside her. There was a man she could trust. A man old enough to be her father, a strong man, a man in whose arms she would feel safe and protected.

She began to feel angry for the shame and embarrassment that his wife put him through. Because he was older than her she obviously felt she could make a display of herself. She was showing nearly all of one of her legs and, as for those displays of flesh above and below her chest, well, it was clear to anyone that she wanted to draw attention to her breasts. She had larger ones than most women from Japan or wherever it was she came from and because of that she obviously felt justified in making men like her husband drool over them.

She, Fatima, possessed larger breasts than that woman, but she also possessed something far more valuable: modesty. Her body was for her husband's eyes only; you wouldn't catch her flaunting her charms to other men (or women) she hardly knew.

An unwelcome memory of that woman who had made such a disgusting suggestion to her in that department store came into her mind. She also had been wearing a slit skirt, although hers was a light brown colour. Maybe that was a sign that lesbians used. Because she had firmly equated Jade with that woman in the department store, that woman whose face she had never been able to erase from her memory.

She was so happy when Hunter came back with the food. She hadn't spoken a word while he had been away, though the other two had been chatting away as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary was taking place.

She was pleased to be able to focus on the food, which was very good (especially, the cabbage and the gravy), and very happy when Hunter asked her about her life. She told him about her pharmaceutical studies course in Karachi and her work as a hospital pharmacist. She told him something that she never told anyone, that she was the youngest female pharmacist ever employed by the Health Service, and felt a warm feeling when he told her she was very clever, far cleverer than he himself. She was even able to forgive him when he told her that she was every bit as clever as Jade, and she was probably the smartest woman he had ever met.

They had moved onto the dessert and Fatima was feeling a lot more relaxed. Jade and Marc had been drinking wine (they had got through two bottles), but she and Hunter had stuck to a delicious fruit punch that he had prepared. Hunter had just come back to the table with the cheese platter and a pot of coffee for the other two (both he and she preferred the much healthier option of herbal tea) and Marc and Jade were talking about some Netflix series that Fatima wasn't interested in, when she felt a hand on her knee, or rather a little above it.

When it happened, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. When she dropped her hand under the table and let Hunter feel her arm brushing against his, again it felt absolutely normal that he should take it in his other hand and move it to his lap. Similarly, when her hand traced the seemingly never-ending giant that occupied his trousers, it seemed as if that was the reason for which she had come over to this particular house on this particular evening.

'Shall we take this somewhere more private?' said Hunter, his eyes looking deep into her own eyes, which were like limpid pools.

'I would like that very much,' Fatima replied.

Without a word to the other two, Hunter led Fatima out of the dining room and upstairs to his bedroom. Jade and Marc looked at each other, shrugged, laughed and retired to the sofa in the living room.

21

Once they were inside the bedroom, Hunter shut the door and, following Fatima's eye-line, locked it. To say he was excited would be a criminal understatement.

'Do it!' she said with barely concealed passion.

Hunter loosened her hijab and watched in awe as she shook out her shiny raven locks, so similar to his wife's, but somehow more enchanting, more womanly.

'The zip is at the back,' she added softly.

She turned around for him and stood there trying to control her trembling as his strong hands made simple work of their task. He slid the fabric over her shoulders and watched as the beautiful gown slid to the floor. Underneath, she was wearing a semi-sheer bra, through which her dark nipples were clearly visible, and a matching pair of panties, which did little to conceal her neatly trimmed triangle.

'That idiot husband of mine thought I didn't know that he was fucking your wife when he called me from her surgery,' she said, with surprisingly little emotion in her voice.

'I guess she told you,' she added, beginning to unbutton his white shirt.

'Well, actually, she did,' Hunter answered her, the surprise evident in his voice.

'I can see that you two have a very modern relationship,' Fatima added, as she took his shirt off and ran her finger through the hairs on his chest.

'I'm sorry I didn't play along and let your wife seduce me.'

She unbuttoned his trousers and helped him out of them. The bulge in his boxers was of a scale she had never seen, even in a porno.

'Marc said you didn't app--, he said you weren't into that kind of thing.'

'Oh, did he? Shows how little he knows me. I'm surprised your wife finds him so irresistible.'

'Well, you must find, or must have found him attractive, given that you married him.'

'Maybe it was an arranged marriage,' she said deadpan.

'Really?' Hunter said with something bordering amazement.

'You're so cute,' Fatima laughed. 'He's all right, I suppose. Just so self-obsessed. Like all men.'

'Guilty as charged,' Hunter replied, bewitched by this box of surprises.

'I don't think you're self-obsessed at all. And you've got more than most men to be obsessed about.'

She ran her red fingernails along his mighty shaft from its head to its base. He grimaced, but otherwise kept his composure.

'It's okay if you show me you like it. I got the impression downstairs that you found me attractive.'

'I do, I promise you,' Hunter said with boyish ingenuousness.

'Are you disappointed that I'm not up here with your wife?'

'How can you say that? I've never felt so alive in my life.'

She looked at him as if she was hoping he would say more.

'And so turned on. I nearly turned to jelly when I opened the door and there you were, so beautiful, so, you know...'

'No, tell me.'

'Well, you know, so...'

'Fuckable?'

'Well, I was going to say desirable.'

'So you didn't want to fuck me when you first saw me.'

'Well, you know...'

'You keep saying that, but I don't; not unless you tell me.'

'I thought you were a princess, and I was really blown away.'

'And you felt guilty about wanting to fuck a princess instead of serving her or worshipping her? Is that it?'

'No, it's just that I, you know - oh, there I go again! - was enchanted by you. Intoxicated by you; yes, that's the word.'

'And this?' she said, placing her hand around his penis. 'Did he want to worship me too?'

'Oh, yes. He has taken quite a shine to you. He's not like that with every woman he meets.'

'Oh, isn't he? You keep him on a leash, do you?'

Fatima tightened her grip on his penis, causing him to gasp.

'I think it's time I made his acquaintance, don't you?' Fatima said, pulling his briefs down so that they fell to his feet.

She was unable to suppress a cry of astonishment when she saw the size of his dick. She brought her hand back to it and then let her other hand join it. With both hands placed side by side there was still room for at least a couple of fingers.

'I fail to understand why your wife bothers with my husband when she has this to come home to every night.'

'Well, variety's the spice of life, they say. He's a very good-looking fellow, and a lot younger than me too.'

'Would you like to see me with her?'

'Well, that's entirely a matter for you - and, um, Jade, of course.'

'She does like women, doesn't she?' she asked coquettishly.

'Well, you know, she has been known to enjoy the company of other persons of the same gender.'

'And when she does enjoy "other persons of the same gender", does she let you watch her?'

'Oh, well, you know, we, well I would say I, at any rate, not wanting to speak for my wife...'

'Have an open relationship. Yes, you've already explained that.'

'So if she came onto me and I didn't struggle too much, you wouldn't be too upset?'

'Oh, no, not at all. I wouldn't want you to worry on my account.'

'Are you going to be a gentleman and give me a kiss, or do you want me to stand here with my hands full for the rest of the evening?'

Hunter ran his hands through Fatima's hair, telling her how beautiful it was as he did so.

'You have quite the silver tongue,' she said. 'Let me feel it in my mouth.'

They kissed - tentatively at first, but that phase didn't last long. Letting go of his penis, Fatima placed her hands on his butt, while her tongue played roguishly in his mouth. He moved a little closer to her, wanting to feel her belly against his hardness. She responded by kissing him with an altogether different level of vigour, grinding herself against him and moving one hand back to his penis.

'Do you want me?' she asked him redundantly.

'Yes. Very much,' he replied, toying with the idea of lifting her off her feet and impaling her on his penis.

'Maybe I should get a condom?' he said, in that disarming way of his.

What might in other circumstances have been a turn-off proved to be a real turn-on for Fatima.

'No, it's okay. I use protection.'

'It's no problem, if you'd feel more comfortable,' he said, smiling his sweetest smile at her.

'I want you to fuck me right here, right now,' she said.