Mrs. Templeton's Secrets

It wouldn't happen tonight but the next time they were in London together, she determined it would. After the meal, they stopped off for a drink and Terrence took her home kissing her goodnight, being the perfect gentleman. Not what she had in mind, but she let him dictate the pace. After John, there was no way any man would have control over her mind or body.

She'd been meaning to go to Australia to see her boys but each time something got in the way. Sitting at home the children asleep, she reflected on her life and wondered where she'd be if Phil were alive. She had always been strong-willed so why did she let John control every aspect of her life? There was no simple answer. Convention, environment, tradition, all played a part but it was her inertness in thinking John knew better. She married young at young, John ten years older. Her father knew John's father and liked him and had worked with John for a few years in the pit. They were a lot alike, so she never really had a chance to develop. He kept her a child and with two young children and a domineering husband she had little choice but to conform. She married him more as a sense of duty and on her father's say so. After the marriage, she thought she loved John but didn't know what loving someone meant. It was never a truly loving relationship. He took the role of her father and it took her until the boys left and for him to fall ill for the fog to lift.

She'd written many bestselling novels, all made into movies, built a financial empire yet lived in the same house and didn't want anything to change. She wasn't afraid of being successful. She had nothing to prove; perhaps she was afraid of what would happen if she left her comfort zone and ventured forth as a woman of substance. She didn't ask to be wealthy, it just happened. She knew she was a great writer, her worldwide sales validated that belief. She was an exceptionally wealthy woman just from her writing. The rest, learning about business, the right publisher, meeting Gwenda, going into business, investing wisely fell into her lap. It just happened as if some giant, invisible hand directed her to make the correct decisions. Was she duplicitous in keeping herself secret? She didn't really know or care. Joan had always been an open book but she had always been closed and locked and questioned whether she was being selfish in needing Joan more than Joan needed her.

She'd seduced Phil; falling in love was not in her plan. She still thought of him and each year on his birthday, laid flowers on his grave. She did the same with John but that was more from a moralistic sense of duty, not love. John gave her two children so did Phil and she loved the four equally. No one would drive her children away again. She'd seduced her best friend and they were still sexually active with each other. Giving herself the lie she loved Joan before their relationship was sexual, the belief adding incredulity to her logic but she did the same with Phil and didn't love him until later and now she planned to seduce Terrence. She definitely had a manipulative trait and wondered why she'd never used it on John.

Joan had been dating Peter for weeks. They hadn't slept together but it was on the cards and when it did happen, Nancy wanted to hear all about it. Was she voyeuristic as well as monopolistic, even bisexual? She wasn't promiscuous. Terrence, if it happened, would be the third man she'd have sex with. She loved making love with Joan but missed the touch and masculinity of a male body so did Joan. Making a pact with each other, even if they were in a committed heterosexual relationship, they would still carry on sexually and guard it as their secret.

It was Nancy's third date with Terrence and they agreed to meet in London. He'd booked two adjacent rooms in the Alexander, explaining it was a high-class hotel. He hadn't personally eaten there but had it on good authority the food was first class. Nancy burst out laughing.

"I'm paying. I've booked two rooms with a connecting door." Quickly adding, "it locks both sides. Don't think..."

"Don't think what?" She badgered.

"Nothing. Dinner and later in the lounge listening to music," he said, gaining his breath. "This hotel is the best London has to offer, I know you'll be impressed."

"I'll accept but insist I pay for my own room and the wine, I know the prices they charge."

Terrence was lost for words. A woman offering to pay! It was emasculating. "I earn a lot more than you so I insist on paying."

"Even you can't afford those prices," holding out her hand, "deal or no deal?" She'd never again be obligated to any man. "I also want to see the receipt."

"Come on, Nancy be reasonable."

She stared at him keeping her smile in place still holding out her hand. Reluctantly, he shook it. "Deal!"

"See you in London next week."

Chapter Fifteen

Peter was picking up Joan later to take her for a meal at his house which was ten miles away. She got herself ready then walked over to Nancy's house. "What do you think?" twirling.

"You look fine. You'll be in his bed within five minutes of stepping over his door."

"Be serious, do I look sexy?"

"You know you do. If you were my date you'd last only a minute before I'd have you on your back."

Joan smirked. "You already have every which way, but I'm after a hard live one tonight."

"You hussy, I want every detail when you get back."

"I feel nervous. If it happens, he'll be the first man since David. What about Terrence?"

"We're not there yet but he's in London at the same time as I am next week so we'll have to see."

"Go for it, girl. Nancy, I've got to ask you." She was silent for a few moments thinking exactly what she wanted to say. "What we do, it's fun right, you're not jealous or anything? We've talked about what we'd like a man to do to us when we're... You know, doing it; I don't want us bickering and annoyed with each other afterward. Help me here, I can't get the words right." Her face intent and on the verge of tears.

"Joan, what we do is between us, two women together sexually satisfying each other. Neither of us is a lesbian. It's like masturbating but we do it together and help each other to make it that much better as friends. I have no problem with it, none whatsoever so go and enjoy yourself. He's a nice person. He likes you, you like him, end of story, so go and share each other's bodies."

"I still want us to carry on with doing what we do." They hugged and Joan left to wait at her house for Peter.

Nancy wondered if the relationship with Peter developed, would they carry on with their secret liaison despite what Joan said. Even if it stopped, they'd still be friends. They were too committed to break apart. They'd honed they sexual technique and Joan had become as good as Phil at cunnilingus. They loved to watch each other's faces when they orgasmed. Nancy was being silly; of course they'd carry on. They were best friends, lovers, and they truly loved each other. Looking back, they had always been special to each other.

After settling the twins for the night, Nancy went downstairs, intending to check a financial report and later write but wasn't in the mood. She pulled out all the letters and photos from the boys, reread them and looked at the pictures, tears running down her face. How much had they changed? Nancy wasn't the same person either. No matter how much they or she had changed, the love between them was still there, that's all that mattered. The obvious hit her, why hadn't she thought of it before, she could telephone them. They had their own electrical firm so they must have a telephone but had never mentioned it or given her the number, believing she couldn't afford the cost of phoning and they were in no position to phone her. They weren't struggling but with a young family and all their other costs... She'd send them more money but from their letters, they would only accept it as a loan. They were proud and independent. In that matter, they were a lot like John but that's as far as the similarity went.

She phoned the operator and was given the business address of the firm. "I have the number, shall I'll connect you?"

Her hands shook and she felt faint hearing a female voice the other end. "Can I speak with Clive or Steven, please."

"I'll call him to the phone."

"Can I help you?"

"Steven," she whispered. "Is that you?"

Mam, God mam," he cried, shouting for Clive to come to the phone. They talked for twenty minutes, passing the phone back and fore to each other. Steven mentioned the cost, Nancy said not to worry and they carried on talking for another twenty minutes when she said she'd phone again in a few days. Putting the phone down, she felt alive yet empty and cried tears of happiness and sadness, longing to see her boys, determining in the next few months to make plans to visit with the twins and ask Joan to come with her. She did, after all, own a majority interest in a travel firm.

Joan never came home that night and it was late afternoon before she saw Peter dropping her off outside her house. Her first instinct was to rush around but she restrained herself, letting Joan decide, she may need a little time alone. Nancy was writing another novel, a romance between a maid and the son of a hotel owner, realising she knew nothing about how a large hotel worked. She knew all the fancy stuff, financials, return on capital, profit margins but how it operated day to day, she hadn't a clue.

All her other novels were about what she knew and based on her own experiences but with this one, she was entering new territory. To make this novel efficacious, she needed the knowledge. She could ask other people but that wouldn't be enough. She needed to be there to experience it first-hand and decided to work at the Nightingale for a few weeks incognito and phoned Gwenda, insisting she didn't want special treatment but needed experience for her next novel.

In London, she met Terrence in the foyer of the Alexander and he escorted her into the restaurant where the maître d' showed them to their table.

Terrence was out to impress, choosing the wine and recommending some of the courses. He was pleasant enough but she was irritated by his constant bragging and self-aggrandisements but smiled innocently, letting him believe he was impressing her. Her mind was on one thing, to get the man into bed. When sated, she'd say thank you for the sex and goodbye. To fall in love and be married to an egotist definitely wasn't on her mind. She been there and had no intention of going there again but he was good looking, forceful and charismatic with a solid body. Those qualities she wanted and would put up with the rest to get them. The thought of what the night held thrilled, envisioning holding an inflamed penis in her hand, watching him orgasm and feeling him inside her as he pumped his manhood into her. An image of Phil flashed into her mind, smiling, joking, making love. She looked at Terrence. She could never love him or anyone like she loved Phil, but he was here, Phil was dead and her body needed a man.

When Terrence began talking about work, her focus changed, giving her the opportunity to probe and ask what the future held for the factory, moving her head to the side, urging him to answer.

"Peter thinks the factory, over the next ten years, will stagnate unless we change direction. For the last two months, he's had me busy doing calculations and prognoses." Nancy was all ears. "Without further development, we'll soon be overtaken. Peter believes prices will fall for our products over the next few years. To be ahead of the game, we need to research and develop new products and that costs money. We're profitable but it's taken by the owners. I'm not saying it's wrong, they can do what they want. I'd better change the subject, this is all over your head and not what you want to hear on an evening like this."

It was exactly what Nancy wanted to hear and she felt like smacking the smirk off his face. "You are so knowledgeable," playing to his ego. "I'd like to know more, you are so clever. What do you believe?" Letting him set the pace.

"I can't see it. The owners will never let Peter develop other products so I think he's wasting his time. I agree with him but that wouldn't get us far. We need to set up a research and development department and spend time developing new technological products, calculators, computers, new ways of printing. Peter believes, within the next decade two at most, a computer will be in every home."

"Most businesses haven't got one what makes you think they'll be in the home. The cost will prohibit it. I thought colour televisions and associated products were the future. What makes him think home and business computers will be the way forward? They are so large."

"They'll get cheaper and smaller over time. Peter is convinced we should invest heavily in research and development. He has almost completed his proposal and will discuss it with Gwenda the next time they meet. I can't see it going anywhere, the owners are after short-term profit. Even if the profit is left with us, it won't be enough, we'll need extra capital. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Nancy glared, but quickly retracted, smiling falsely, she said, "I'm just about following," restraining herself from kicking him in the shins, "go on."

"We're talking about investing all the profit back into the business plus an added injection of capital, which means we need more capital with no returns for at least five, if not ten, years. Have I lost you?"

Nancy was about to speak but he ploughed forward before she had a chance.

"No more talk about work, tell me about your latest story. You seem to be doing alright from what I can see."

"I write simple stories and I wouldn't expect you to understand," smirking, but it was lost on him. "You have so much more intelligence than I. Simple stories are not your forte."

"I accept that, but I can try."

"I wouldn't dream of boring you."

After the meal, they retired to the lounge where a woman played the piano. Terrence ordered a Courvoisier, insisting the glass be warmed, then, making a show of swishing it around, inhaled the aroma before taking a pretentious sip, ordering Nancy a vintage port without even asking if she wanted one.

She smiled. "I've never tasted vintage port."

"An acquired taste, my dear. This is my lifestyle. I know it's alien to you living in a small village but when you're with me, it's the best for the best. Take a sip."

"I see, yes, very nice." She did like it but inside she fumed at his condescension, hoping his arrogance fell over into sex or it would be the first and last time she'd sample him.

They listened to the music and his arm crept around her shoulder as she snuggled into it. Feeling his body so close, smelling his aftershave mixed with the brandy, acted as an aphrodisiac, stimulating her sexual longings. He'd already assumed the dominant role and she was happy to let it continue until she had what she wanted. Turning to him, she kissed him lightly on the lips, her meaning obvious. It was time to retire to the room but convention decreed the game had to be played out.

"I have a bottle of champagne chilling in my room if you'd care for a nightcap before you retire for the night."

"Why don't you bring it into my room. I'll open the connecting door but first let me change out of this dress and into something a little more casual," giving nothing away, feeling nervous now it was happening, not sure she could go through with it.

The excitement in his eyes was obvious. "I'll do the same, see you in a bit."

In her room, Nancy hung up her dress, removed her panties and brassiere and dressed in casual slacks and a buttoned blouse, leaving the top two button undone and opened the connecting door. Terrence was waiting, wearing jeans and a shirt with the three top buttons open, holding two champagne glasses in one hand, a chilled bottle of champagne in the other. The ritual of seduction was about to conclude.

He came into the room with false bravado but on closer inspection, Nancy saw he was also nervous. He poured two glasses, handed one to her, then placed the bottle on the table. They sat together on the two-seater settee and his arm slowly found its way around her shoulders. She leaned her head against his shoulder waiting for him to make the first move. He turned to her and kissed her forehead, then moved down to her nose and lips. She reciprocated; the game was in motion.

Her nipples had hardened before he caressed her breasts and he began unbuttoning the front of her blouse, sharing tongues while he was doing it. His hand moved inside her slacks and rubbed lightly around her vagina. She opened her legs further and placed her hand between his legs. Touching his hardness sent both into a frenzy of passion. She undid his zip moving her hand along his hardness, pressing the foreskin down and releasing, letting it find its own way back as she lightened her grip. His fingers probed her most private parts. She was so wet, his fingers slid easily inside and he moved them slowly back and forth.

She stood in front of him and removed her clothes. He did the same, his manhood springing loose when he removed his pants. This is what she wanted inside of her mouth and inside her womanhood. The game had finished, it was time for action and she intended to get it.

He sat down and she placed her legs across his and bore her body down upon him. Grabbing his manhood, she placed it at the front of her vagina and sat, letting it slip into her. Feeling it entering, she groaned the groan of the hungry. Starved for so long without a man, she moved up and down, clutching around his neck. She was in charge and rode herself home to orgasm. Terrence was no passive, reciprocating her movements, holding her waist, moving his body to the rhythm she'd set, staring into each other's eyes. Their joint orgasms were fast and furious as they cried out their hunger for cessation. She fell forward, resting her head on his neck, breathless, feeling his manhood relax inside her.

She needed to see, to touch, explore his body with her hands and mouth. Sex with Joan was always good but this was different, more urgent. When two women played with each other, masturbating and exploring, it is innately feminine using mouth and tongue, telling each other their secret fantasies of what they wanted men to do to them and what they wanted from each other. This was one of Nancy's fantasies and it was happening and would tell Joan the next time they were together.

With Terrence, the sex was raw and animalistic. He was no gentle lover, didn't caress lightly nor waited to feel and hear his partners wants. He was hard and dominant. Only his wants mattered but she was in control, revelling in the feeling his power evoked as he thrust upward, setting her body alight with unbridled passion as he spilled his seed deep inside her vagina, something no woman could give her.

She stood, grabbed his hand and led him to the bed and fell into it. Feeling the depth of his bridled passion between her legs, she coated her hand and rubbed it on his manhood. It was time to explore. Taking it in her hands, one around his testicles, the other around his half flaccid penis, she moved his foreskin slowly down and back.

"Faster," he mumbled.

It was Nancy's game and she'd play it her way. "Close your eyes and relax. Let me do this for you. I want to feel your dominance," playing to his ego. She wanted to control his power and kissed it from top to stem. Moving back to the top, she engulfed the bulb stretching his foreskin with her hand while using her mouth to masturbate him. She felt the magic, heard his loud masculine groans as her mouth moved up and down. There is an unreality about this most basic of human functions and Nancy was no exception to this force of nature.