Langley Circle Beginning Ch. 12

Author's note: The following is a work of fiction that contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts and is intended for adults only. All people, places, and events are a product of my imagination and any characters described as engaging in sexual acts are over the age of eighteen.

Thanks for sticking around for this next instalment. Two of our main characters enjoy a great roleplay scene this time whilst a plot point is furthered with some fantastic MFF threesome sex. If that's not enough for you, there's even a sneaky bit of outdoor sex.

Previously on Langley Circle... Bella planned a whole day for her and Nicky to enjoy but had forgotten that Nicky had already arranged to spend the night with Josh. As Bella fled in a flash of jealousy, Nicky was left feeling confused and frustrated. An evening with Josh soon put the smile back on her face though, as Josh rocketed from never having had sex at all, to doing it five times in one night.

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Season One, Episode Twelve

Beth slipped her robe on and padded downstairs, following the aroma of fresh coffee.

"Morning sleepy head," Dean said, looking up from his newspaper as she entered the kitchen. "Coffee?" He rose from the table.

"Mmm, please." Beth shuffled sleepily across the kitchen as he filled a mug with the steaming black liquid. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his broad back. Burying her face in his shoulder, she breathed in deeply, enjoying the aroma of the fresh coffee as it mixed with his body spray. "The only problem," she said and paused to touch her lips to his neck, "was that when I woke up, you weren't there." Kissing him again, she took the coffee cup, and retreated to sit at the table.

"I had some stuff to do." He took a seat opposite. "Besides, I am surprised you managed to sleep through Nicky getting back this morning. She was Banging doors, singing in the shower, and dancing about."

"Nope, didn't hear a thing. What time was that?"

"About half nine."

"Did she have a good night?"

"Judging by the annoyingly chipper mood she is in this morning, I would say so yes."

Beth took a small sip from the mug, sighing in satisfaction as the coffee instantly began to revive her. "So, what stuff did you have to do this morning?"

"Oh, just a few errands," he said with a grin.

Beth narrowed her eyes. "What are you up to?"

Panic flashed briefly across his face. "Me? No, nothing."

"A likely story." Beth knew when her husband was being secretive. She'd have to question him later once the caffeine had kicked in.

"Morning mum."

The arrival of her daughter temporarily derailed her thoughts. Nicky was dressed and looked ready to go out. She was glowing with what appeared to be happiness.

"Wow, everyone's so with it this morning. Did I miss a memo?"

Nicky chuckled. "It's practically afternoon."

Beth glanced at the microwave, and was surprised to see it was almost noon. "Blimey, I really did sleep in."

Dean stood, heading for the hall, "Back in a moment."

She frowned as he left; he was being suspicious again, or perhaps she was just being paranoid. She sighed, let the frown melt away, and turned to Nicky. "So, a good night was it?"

Nicky slipped into the chair vacated by Dean. "Yes, I had a lovely time."

Beth noticed the blush that rose to her daughter's cheeks. "I'm glad to hear that. I hope he was a gentleman?"

"Oh mum, he was amazing. I mean, he was a true gentleman. He even made me dinner first, and waited on me hand and foot the whole night."

Beth smirked and raised an eyebrow. "First?"

Nicky's face fell, realising she had let slip more than she had intended. "Er mum, I--"

Beth chuckled. "None of my business sweetie." She reached across the table to take Nicky's hand. "As long as he's treating you right, and you're being careful." She fixed her daughter with a pointed stare, to which Nicky blushed and rolled her eyes. "That's all I ask. Otherwise, I just want you to be happy."

"Thanks mum, and yes, he treated me very well, and made sure I was happy." Nicky leaned across the table, chuckling softly, and whispered, "Multiple times."

Beth gasped and failed to hold in a chuckle of her own. "Well, he sounds like a keeper."

"We'll see. Josh is sweet, and I do like him a lot, but it's still early days."

"Quite right honey." Beth knew she could rely on Nicky to be sensible, most of the time anyway. In spite of her motherly instinct to smother and protect, Beth knew she had to allow Nicky to begin making her own way in life. Her little girl was growing up; it wouldn't be long before she flew the nest, and then she'd be outside of Beth's protective sphere for good. Beth tried not to think too hard about that. "So what are you up to today?"

Nicky's smile faltered, and she breathed out a long sigh. "I'm off round to see Bel. We had a bit of a falling out yesterday and I need to sort it out. It's eating away at me."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure you too will work it out though, seems like you are closer than ever these days."

"Yeah, hope so," Nicky said, leaning over to kiss Beth on the cheek, before standing. "Right, I'm off. Not sure what time I'll be back, depends how things pan out."

"OK, text me if you're around for dinner."

As Nicky was leaving the kitchen, Dean strode back in. "See you later honey, hope you get things sorted with Bella."

"Thanks dad," Nicky said, hugging him tightly before heading into the hall.

Beth sipped at her coffee as Dean moved to stand behind her, bending to kiss the top of her head. She smiled at the sound of the front door closing, realising she and Dean were alone. "Looks like we have the place to ourselves for a few hours hubby."

"Seems that way wifey." She could tell he was smirking even without seeing his face.

"I think I'll go for a shower, and then perhaps we can spend some quality time together?" She craned her head back to look up at him, bobbing her eyebrows suggestively.

"Sure," he said, grinning. "I'm going to catch up on some reading while I wait."

Beth watched him walk out, and pushed aside another niggling thought about how weird he was acting. She sat, enjoying the peace and quiet as she lazily slurped at her coffee. Now, what naughtiness could they get up to this afternoon. Perhaps she would come back down naked after her shower, or maybe it was time for the schoolgirl outfit to make another appearance. That idea definitely appealed to her. After their evening with Megan on Friday, Beth's mind had been bursting with a multitude of exciting roleplay ideas, and she couldn't wait to start "doing some research" for the blog. Megan had told her about a good place to get costumes, but that would have to wait until next week. She was reasonably confident though, that whatever she chose to do today, Dean would be a willing participant.

She rinsed out her cup, and headed upstairs. Today was off to a promising start. A nice long sleep-in, and now the prospect of an afternoon of playtime.

As she walked into the bedroom, she was surprised to see a black dress laid out on the freshly made bed, a small piece of paper resting atop it. She picked up the folded paper, noticing the word "Lizzie" written on the outside. She grinned as an excited flutter began in her tummy.

'Lizzie

In your position as housemaid, it is your duty to ensure the house is always clean and tidy. Her ladyship informs me that the front room is in a state of unacceptable disarray. You are required to work this Sunday to rectify the situation.'

The note was not signed, and included no further instructions or guidance on how "Lizzie" should carry out her duties.

Beth's grin widened; she wouldn't have to work out this afternoon's activities after all, it seemed Dean had taken care of that already. She loved the fact that he had taken the initiative and was keen to continue exploring the boundaries; it was exactly what she had been hoping for.

She placed the note to one side and picked up the dress. It was long, reaching almost to the floor, and lacked any real shape. The bodice was a touch more tailored, and the scoop neckline was elasticated, which was somewhat unusual. Turning back to the bed, she noticed that sitting beneath the dress had been a white apron, and crocheted silk cap with ribbon tales. She recognised the style as Victorian.

Beth shrugged off her robe, and performed a happy dance on the way to the shower, her mind bursting with ideas of how to transform herself into Lizzie the Victorian housemaid.

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Dean sat in the front room fretting. Had he misjudged the situation? Was the timing right? Did he look like an utter berk?

He turned the page of the book nestled in his lap, and continued pretending to read. In addition to not actually reading it, he didn't even know what book it was; he had grabbed it at random as a distraction while he waited for Beth, or more hopefully, Lizzie the maid. He glanced at the front cover now, and chuckled. 'What the butler saw'.

This was the first time he had taken the initiative regarding roleplay, and the nerves were building; his fingers trembled, and there was a knot forming in his stomach.

During a brief moment yesterday morning when he and Megan had been alone, he had taken the opportunity to talk more with her about roleplay and the large number of outfits she kept in her wardrobe. She was very excited to hear about how he and Beth were beginning to experiment, and she'd talked enthusiastically on the subject, offering numerous ideas, hints and tips. Dean grinned as he remembered how so many of Megan's suggestions had included scope for a third person, presumably her, to "assist" in their "experimentation". It was still hard for him to get to grips with the idea that he was now in the early stages of what could only be described as a polyamorous relationship. His desire surged as he remembered some of the exciting things he, Beth, and his ex-personal assistant had enjoyed on Friday night.

He shook his head and tried to focus on the here and now. Megan had also passed on the name of a shop where she bought many of her outfits. Balls Apparel was no fancy dress shop, as Dean had discovered during his visit this morning. The company specialized in providing authentic costumes, for theatre and film companies, but was also willing to deal with discerning members of the public, who sought out realism rather than exaggerated clichés for their wardrobe needs. This information had been proudly delivered in a thick French accent by the eccentric proprietor, Auguste Balls, who also took every opportunity to repeat the dubious mantra of, "Come rain or shine, when duty calls, you've got Balls".

The items Dean purchased hadn't been cheap, but it wasn't the money that concerned him. He was worried they weren't very sexy. The dress was authentic in terms of what a Victorian servant might have worn, although it was made from contemporary materials, but you wouldn't exactly call it sexy. Dean had deliberated long and hard, ultimately deciding that the costume wasn't necessarily meant to be the most erotic part of the roleplay. It was more about the participants, and how they chose to use the clothes to make the scenario more immersive. He suspected Beth would look hot in whatever clothes she chose to wear; however, that wasn't to say he didn't enjoy her dressing up, because recent events were enough to convince him that he very much did.

The clothes were definitely important to the roleplay, and Dean had decided that he would prefer authentic looking costumes rather than silly over-exaggerated ones. If Beth took a different view, he was going to feel like a complete idiot, dressed, as he currently was, in the garb of a Victorian gentleman. Admittedly, the clothes that the typical nineteenth century gent wore at home weren't anything particularly outrageous. Beneath a grey waistcoat, he wore a white linen shirt with a small rounded collar. The trousers were normal, although in place of a zip, there was a neat row of buttons instead. His feet were clad in leather slippers, which he had to admit he rather liked. It was the smoking jacket that made him feel odd. It was dark blue silk, fastened with a single button, had a long shawl collar, and hung down to mid-thigh. It was quite comfortable, but he was steadfastly avoiding the mirror over the fireplace for fear of laughing at his own appearance. Realistically, that was probably the worst that could happen. This was Beth, his wife after all. If he had misjudged, she would probably have a good laugh, but that would be the extent of his embarrassment. He reckoned he could probably handle that.

He frowned; what was taking so long? Perhaps, Beth had seen the dress, had her laugh, and gone back to bed. He took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. His fingers still trembled lightly as he flicked over to the next page of the book, which held precisely no interest for him at this time.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs obliterated his calmness; his heart began to race, as he fretted about what his wife would be wearing when she entered the room. He listened to the slow heavy footsteps. They seemed too loud and heavy to be bare feet, Beth's preference when relaxing at home. There was a pause, and then the rhythmic crack of rigid heels on the wooden floor of the hallway. He was desperate to turn and look, but kept his eyes blindly locked on the text of the book. The footsteps stopped in the doorway behind him and he heard the faintest sound of swishing material. Dean let out a slow breath, trying to control his nervous excitement; it was ShowTime.

"Beggin' your pardon sir." The hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood up, and butterflies danced in his stomach. The voice was unmistakably Beth's, but it was different; she was affecting a London accent. The words were clipped with letter sounds merging, and her t and k sounds were coming from the back of the throat and not the front of the mouth; it didn't take much for Dean to imagine it to be the voice of a working class Victorian woman. He flicked his eyes to the mirror, and gasped at what he saw reflected there.

Beth was wearing the black dress; she looked fantastic. The tightly fitting bodice clung to her torso, the slender sleeves buttoning at the wrists. The scoop neck revealed bare skin at the base of her throat, and more than a hint of bosom. The skirt of the dress flared subtly at the hips, and was long, stopping just a few inches short of the floor, where he could see the flash of black leather. A long white apron was looped over her head and tied at the waist, the neckline low enough not to obstruct the tantalizing bare skin visible there. Atop her head was the crocheted lace cap that he had almost not bought, but now was so glad he had. It looked perfect, nestled atop Beth's head, and he couldn't wait to see the ribbons fixed to the back. It completed the outfit very well, and made her look every bit the nineteenth century housemaid.

Dean realised he had been staring at her in the mirror for some time now. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but failed entirely to form any words, so distracting was the sight. She was standing in the doorway, hands in her lap, eyes up but not meeting his. Her cheeks were blushing pink and she fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot. Dean was instantly aroused, and terrified. He needed to stay in his role as the aloof Victorian gentleman of the house. He must remember his station, and more importantly hers.

"Yes, what is it?" A lack of moisture in his mouth made the words feel thick and clumsy as he spoke them. He forced himself to look back down at his book, feigning disinterest, which required a great deal of will power, because he desperately wanted to continue gazing upon her.

"Beg pardon sir, housekeeper says I've been lazy, and this room is in a dreadful state, and I--"

"Cease your babbling directly," Dean interrupted her curtly. "Come here."

He waited while she moved to stand before him, the swishing of her dress the only sound as she rushed to obey his command. He raised his eyes to her and was once again struck by the arousing effect the outfit was having. The sexual tension crackled around them, and yet neither of them had done anything even remotely sexual yet.

He looked up into the eyes of Lizzie the housemaid, and his heart skipped a beat. They glistened bright with excitement, and flitted deferentially to the side an instant after meeting his.

"Now, let's take this slowly, and I must insist you refrain from babbling like an imbecile. I understand you are new, is that the case?"

"Yes sir, just last week."

"Your name?"

"Lizzie sir," she said, and grasping the skirt of her dress, bobbed a deep curtsey that sent a jolt of arousal directly to his groin.

"That's better. Slow and steady; discord will be more efficient for the both of us that way. Now, what is it you require?"

"Housekeeper has said I have been lazy, and must make amends by working on Sunday to clean the room. Begging your pardon sir, but I expected you to be at church--"

Dean held up a hand to silence her. "The ramblings of the reverend Thomas Morley are not something I hold any interest in burdening my ears with on a Sunday morning, or indeed any other morning for that matter." This got a smile from Beth. "I much prefer the company of a weighty literary tome." He lifted his book to indicate his point. She smirked briefly upon seeing the title, but said nothing, and he allowed his lustful gaze to linger on her body for a few indulgent moments, causing her to shift uncomfortably. "Very well, go about your work if you must. Mind you do not disturb me however."

"Yes sir, thank you sir. I promise you won't know I am here." He dismissively waved her off, and she dipped another small curtsey, before scurrying away. When she returned, she was holding a metal bucket; Dean had no idea where it had come from, and in truth, couldn't care less; he was keen to see what her next move would be.

As he pretended to ignore her, he watched from the corner of his eye. She began her work, pulling a cloth from the bucket and dusting items on the table at the far end of the room. He allowed his gaze to flow over her curves while she worked methodically. The dress was fairly shapeless below the waist, but Beth's generous backside still managed to fill it out nicely; he took great pleasure in ogling her as she wiped the table, leaning over to reach the far side. Her dress rode up a few inches, revealing her footwear to be the black leather lace up boots with the kitten heels that he always thought looked so gorgeous. A few years ago, he had confessed to Beth his penchant for them, and ever since then she had taken great joy in wearing them intentionally to turn him on, referring to them as her "hubby come fuck me" boots.

Dean groaned softly, surreptitiously reaching under his book to adjust the bulge of his erection. As he watched the hem of her dress skipping over the top of the ankle high boots, he caught a glimpse of smooth white material covering her legs. It couldn't be socks, so that meant-- Oh Jesus she was wearing stockings. His hand lingered in his lap, stroking his bulge and imagining what she would look like with the dress pushed up over her back; He resolved to find out before too long.

Beth straightened up abruptly, and Dean hurriedly replaced his hand on the book, as she turned and moved over to a tall bookcase where she continued dusting. He quickly flicked his eyes to the book in his lap, but not before a brief backwards glance from Beth caught him gawping. She blushed and grinned, before returning to her task.

She worked slowly and diligently, running the cloth smoothly along the spine of each book, beginning with the shelf at eye level. Dean was now treated to an excellent view of the thick braid that Beth had twisted her hair into, as it flicked from side to side, intertwining with the two white ribbon tails that hung down from the cap. The contrast of her dark hair with the pure white silk of the ribbon was intoxicatingly sexy, although Dean couldn't exactly say why. The gentle swishing of her braid, and the creamy skin at the base of her slender neck, were sparking sexual urges in him that would be hard to control much longer.