Living for Myself

It certainly did feel that way as we cavorted for an hour with two handsome men, who genuinely seemed to relish making out with older women. Krystov was a dream-boat with long, curly blond hair and the biggest cock I had ever had the pleasure of. The way Sylvie took him in her back passage left me in awe and I resolved that I needed to up my game in that department. It had once been a fall-back during the monthly curse in my younger days and I had endured it at first but came to enjoy it. Now I was not cursed any more, it was time to start enjoying it again.

Just not with two guys who would render me unable to sit down for a week afterwards.

When Sylvie thanked them for their services, I was utterly sated and despite the chill of the air, we were slick with sweat and bodily fluids. We caressed tenderly and she gave out a little laugh. "Oh those poor men of ours, chasing a little white ball around the countryside with a stick. I think we got the better of the deal, Robyn."

We certainly did. Back downstairs, we sat in a heated conservatory overlooking the grounds and were soon into a second bottle -- this time, Chablis.

Sylvie poured us a generous glass each. "So, how would you describe what just occurred in bedroom English?"

I thought for a moment, parts of me still tingling from their onslaught. "They fucked us into the middle of next week!"

Her smile was wicked. "Not sure about that. It's only the second of January, but I think they fucked us into the middle of next year! So, you forgive me my little subterfuge?"

I held my glass up to hers. "Absolutely, Madame Dupont. That sort of subterfuge is fine by me."

I even forgave her as she lit a cigarette and drew on it deeply. She saw the look I gave her. "Don't tell Alain, please!"

I knew perfectly well what she meant. There was a time many years ago when I loved to smoke after a good romp. I tried to sound incredulous. "So, you mean Alain doesn't know about the gardeners?"

She laughed. "Of course he knows. It is my dirty little habit I refer to."

"Which one?"

"Sex is not dirty, Robyn - nor is it a habit. It is good clean fun, and a necessity of life." She inhaled once more. "Ok, it is a complete addiction, but what the hell? Did you see that large mirror upstairs on the wall to the left of the bed?"

I rolled my eyes. "Sylvie, I couldn't take my eyes off the fucking thing. It gave me a perfect view of the utter filth we just got up to with those fine young men!"

"Indeed. But it is not just there for that. It is a two-way mirror. Behind it is a comfortable leather chair, adorned with straps and restraints. Alain and I tease the living shit out of each other bound in that chair. Me with the gardeners and others, he with various of our willing friends. We love watching each other. I prefer to tease and deny him. He remotely controls a vibe in my panties. Maybe you can join us one day?"

I sincerely hoped that would be the case, but somewhere in the back of my mind was the thought that maybe I was Cinderella and all too soon, my carriage would turn back into a pumpkin. Would I be able to cope if that happened?

When the men returned, Alain proclaimed himself the winner by two holes and held up a rumpled old banknote in triumph. Sylvie looked unimpressed. "We were level on holes and they got filled very nicely. We were both winners."

Yves was crestfallen at his rare defeat. "So I won't have to make you squirm with lust then."

Sylvie stood, downed her wine and put a consoling hand on Yves shoulder. "Don't worry, Yves -- I will! Right, Alain - get another bottle going and give me fifteen minutes to get the canapes together. Then what could be better than to follow your round of matchplay with a nice session of foursomes?"

We had so much fun, we stayed the night. When we left the next afternoon, after another long, languid morning session, Sylvie hugged me. "Come back soon, little bird -- if I may call you that?"

I kissed her. "You may. It seems to have stuck and I quite like it!" Then my heart sank. "I hope I'll be back someday soon."

She looked at Yves through narrowed eyes. "Will she?"

He hugged her. "What do you think? Now she can fly, this little bird will be hard to keep out of my garden!"

Nine

My third visit to Yves place had come and gone. As ever, I felt a mixture of euphoria and sadness.

It had been a wrench leaving. I was becoming more and more smitten by his charms and there was definitely a chemistry between us that made me feel young and alive once more. I loved the freedom we had within our burgeoning relationship and sharing the things we did made it all the more special.

No sooner was my bag dropped off at Nicole's, we were back downstairs in the café and she sat with rapt attention at our favourite spot as I regaled her with my tales of fun and games with Sylvie, Alain and the others. She was genuinely delighted it had all gone so well and it was lovely to be able to recount my salacious deeds to this beautiful girl who had, after all, almost single-handedly been responsible for my transformation.

But as we went back up to her apartment, I sensed a slight tension in her. Nothing I could pin down, but she seemed a little uneasy for some reason. As with when I left Yves, I put it down to the fact I was going home the next day.

Back in the apartment, she headed straight for the balcony, which surprised me. "Come on little bird, let's look at your favourite view of Paris!"

She led me to the balcony rail and I was surprised to see a champagne bottle in a cooler near the door. "Celebrating?"

I loved her Gallic shrugs. "Peut etre. Maybe. Always an excuse for champagne, no?"

I hugged her. "It is not too dramatic to say I love you, Ms. Bouvier. You are a very special lady."

"Et tu, little bird. Je t'aime aussi. You have learned to fly and I am so proud."

I turned back to the view and took a deep breath as I leaned on the parapet. "I think Yves likes me as well, Nicole. Thank you for introducing us. He means so much to me."

She put an arm around my shoulders. "I have news for you, little bird. Yves does not like you at all."

As my chest began to tighten, she turned me around to face the balcony door. A tall figure was silhouetted there and as my heart stood still, he began to walk towards us.

His soft voice sent shivers through me. "No, he doesn't like you, little bird." He knelt at my feet, a small box in his left hand, which he held out towards me. "He loves you with all his heart and would be honoured to make you the second Madame Marchand."

Time appeared to stand still as I gazed down at the beautiful ring, sparkling in the last rays of the sun. Nicole's arm was still around me and she was trembling while I felt an icy calm.

I now knelt down and extended my right hand towards him. "And I love you too, Monsieur Marchand, but I would prefer to be the first Madame Marchand-Christie."

He slipped the ring onto my finger with a huge smile on his face. "Pas de probleme. So it shall be!"

There was a flash from Nicole's phone camera and when I looked up at her she was practically bouncing on the spot, tears coursing down her cheeks. She ran to the champagne bottle and as Yves and I embraced on our knees on her balcony, there was a loud pop and the cork flew out into the gathering gloom of a Paris evening.

We downed our first glass in one, as once again I told her what a wonderful but naughty girl she was. She poured us a second glass and when I asked her for a chair, she looked puzzled but returned with one and I placed it beside the parapet.

I handed Yves my glass. "I said I wanted to do this a while ago. I haven't got a megaphone, but what the hell." I stood up on the chair and put my hands to my mouth and yelled at the top of my voice.

"Ecoutez moi, Paris. Ecoutez moi, tous le monde. J'aime Nicole Bouvier. J'aime Yves Marchand. I am a little bird, and I can finally fly!"

I stepped down and fell into their joint embrace sobbing with joy. We were there for an eternity before Nicole said she would give us a few minutes.

I told Yves I had not been so happy for so long and his proposal was a dream come true. I had been hiding my love for him in case nothing came of it. Now I was the happiest woman on Earth.

He put his hands on my shoulders. "I have a table reserved at the restaurant where we first met. It is for three people, is that ok?"

"Yes Yves. There is always room for Nicole Bouvier in my life. Is it illegal for the three of us to marry?"

He laughed. "She will always be somewhere near, little bird. But the reservation is not until nine. It is not yet seven o'clock. What can we possibly do to while away the time?"

It was my turn to attempt a Gallic shrug. "I really have no idea, Yves. But Nicole seems a resourceful girl. Shall we go and ask her?"

She was so resourceful we were half an hour late. None of us cared, least of all me. I'd had many incredible nights over the last few months to make up for years of being there for others.

My second life was taking shape very nicely indeed.

Epilogue

I turn off the shower and wrap a huge towel around my body and wind another smaller one around my head. Marie will be here in twenty minutes to do my hair and make-up. As I gaze out of our bedroom window across the vast rear grounds, I cannot believe how far I have come in such a short space of time.

Leaving the Cotswolds was a wrench, but the Champagne-Ardennes area is a fair swap -- still handy for Paris and a delight in its own right, being home to my two favourite wines, Chablis and Champagne.

Out in the garden, the activity borders on manic, with caterers scurrying here and there as one team erect the marquee in which we will dine and another lay out the area that we will occupy after we have sated our appetites. This area comprises a huge, rubberised inflatable mattress that, when it is finished, will be festooned with cushions and ringed by love seats, sex benches and racks of toys and restraints.

It is a sort of bouncy castle for adults. There, we will satisfy other base appetites long into the warm night. It is there that I will finally fulfil what is now an all-consuming fantasy when I kneel in the middle of everyone present with my arms tethered to metal posts and allow them to do as they wish with me.

Nothing will be off limits. For thirty minutes, I will be a human fuck-toy to be used and abused at their whim. At the end of my time, they will throw me into the swimming pool to cleanse the filth from me.

I have fantasised about it for so long now and I cannot wait.

Yves strides around the scene, directing, assisting and probably getting in the way a lot, but it is his home and his party, so I am happy to let him have free reign and it keeps him out of my hair. I have had a fair bit of input, as has Nicole, and we all agree that if it goes well, it should be an evening to remember.

As Yves glances up at the window, I hold the towel open. Even from a distance, I see his nostrils flare. He blows me a kiss and continues on with his supervision. I am already wet at the thought of what is to come, though I will need to put a lid on my emotions, as the real fun will not start for another four to five hours and my self-imposed ordeal will come much later in proceedings.

I glance at the ring on my right hand and kiss it as I behold the scene before me. When Leigh set me on my journey, I never expected I would get back into the game, let alone allow myself to fall head-over-heels in love. I wish she could be here tonight but I look forward to welcoming her to my new home for a slightly more genteel weekend soon. I think she will gladly forgo our usual village pub for a tour of the Chateaux of the region and maybe her visit will re-kindle the spark that she and Matthew seem to have lost of late.

She was utterly thrilled for me when I told her that my dreams had come true and my knight on a white charger was a widowed, minor French nobleman - not some rich villager from the Cotswolds.

Yves crept up on me by stealth. He is a wonderful lover and a great friend, but I never expected him to propose to me, especially so quickly. I am proving very popular with his large circle of fine friends and we have our first trip to The House of Dreams planned in a few weeks.

I cannot wait to see Nicole. She has been insanely busy, so I have not seen her for a while and long to congratulate her in person on her new career. She has already made her first movie, though it will not be released for some time yet. I have seen a few stills from one of the two shoots she has done for the company's website and the word 'incendiary' hardly does them justice. She and the blonde Eastern European girl set the screen alight and I cannot wait to see the conclusion of their slowly-intensifying session with two well-hung studs. Nicole looks utterly stunning in a deep red leather basque and long boots and gloves. She and her partners have a magical chemistry that leaps out of the screen and takes the viewer by the throat.

As part of her re-submission to the production company, Yves arranged for her to do a photo-set with Danielle, a photographer friend of his. Nicole asked Naomi, the girl she does her foursomes with, to be her co-star. I watched on in awe that day and the beauty of it is etched on my soul. I have three framed photos from the shoot on the wall of my private dressing room off the main bedroom, but my pride and joy is one that Danielle took after the main shoot. It shows me staring open-mouthed at the camera as Nicole and Naomi flick their tongues at my nipples.

Last I heard, the production company were interested in doing a test shoot with Naomi. I hope it works out for her as seeing her and Nicole in a professional shoot would be mind-blowing.

When I showed my photograph to Leigh, she let out a little whimper. "Fucking hell, Robs -- you lucky old cow. I've never been tempted by another woman but you may have just changed my mind!"

I have no doubt whatever that Nicole Bouvier will be a huge star -- or at least her alter-ego will. I am proud to say that I had a major part to play in her decision to re-apply to the production company.

We were in our favourite spot in our favourite café and the conversation inevitably came around to my transformation from a sad old divorcee into something of a sexual adventurer. I told Nicole in no uncertain terms that if I could do it, then she should follow her dreams and transform herself. She couldn't afford to wait as long as I did -- she would never get to be a porn star at fifty.

Somehow I convinced her. The company still had her original application in their system. She went for an audition and left her job as a teacher at the end of the following term.

Nikki Boo was born and is destined for stardom.

A soft knock at my door shakes me from my reverie. Marie is right on time to help make this old woman look beautiful for her guests. Her work will only last a few hours and by midnight I will look as if I have been dragged around the grounds of Yves' mansion by wild horses.

Before I answer the door, I let the towel fall open once more and gaze at my reflection in one of the many full-length mirrors that adorn the bedroom walls and ceiling -- very little goes unnoticed in this room.

I run my fingertips along my hip bones towards my belly-button and trace the three words that are tattooed there on each side -- the same words in two different languages.

The words on the left are in French.

I smile as I trace the English version on the right, because it tells those special people that get to see it that I am finally doing what I should have been doing for years.

Living For Myself