Professional Excellence Ch. 10

She emptied her glass before putting it down, picked up the dress I'd selected and held it against herself to check the size. As she did so, the towel is fell away. Her pale skin seemed to glow after the shower. The warm water had brought out delicate pink shading around her nipples and the folds beneath her breasts and bum cheeks. I thought about my reply to her earlier question and mentally revised my answer. She definitely looked good enough to eat and I knew I wouldn't say no to a taste myself if the chance was offered.

Her dress was made from a similar material to mine. The difference was in the neckline: her's plunged to below her bust, but it had a thick hem of triple-thickness material and two hearts of similar opacity over her boobs. It left little to the imagination; but at least it left something. She started giggling as she looked at herself in the mirror. I dragged my eyes away from the sight of her perfect rear and winked at her when I caught her eye.

'Tiddly.'

'What?'

'That's what I am. I've been trying to think of the word.'

'Tiddly?'

'Yes. Not drunk or anything, but the champagne has definitely got to me. I wouldn't even think of putting this on otherwise. You're sure it'll fit?'

'Like a glove. Come on, let's get you into your lingerie so you can try it.'

There was a lot more girly-laughter as she struggled with the unfamiliar undergarments. Her suspender belt was thicker than mine, her stockings similar, but a few more denier opaque. Her thong fitted well and was more material than lace. I felt justified in my assertion that she was going to be overdressed when standing alongside me. I'd had to help her with unfamiliar clips and couldn't miss the slight intakes of breath when I touched the insides of her thighs. I patted her behind when we'd finished tugging her into the dress. The hemline on hers reached down to her knee - not that it hid anything - mine stopped at mid-thigh. She started laughing again as she twirled and twisted, examining herself critically.

'Condom.'

'You do come out with the strangest things. I'm not sure you'll need one of those tonight. Not unless you fancy your chances with Nigel that is.'

'No. I didn't mean that. I was thinking of what you said.'

'What I said?'

'That the dress would fit like a glove.'

'Yeees?'

'Well it's more like a condom, isn't it? Nice and tight in the right places, but a little loose where it doesn't really matter.'

She pulled on the hem gently to straighten it a little more and, I supposed, to emphasise the point. She turned to face me, looking a little flushed. There was a twinkle of excitement in her eye.

'It will be women-only tonight, won't it?'

'Most of the husbands are with Howard in Spain; those who aren't will be babysitting or enjoying the football in peace. If any of the girls are playing away, they wouldn't dream of bringing their lovers. It'd soon be the talk of the town.'

'You think some of them might be?'

'You'll have to ask them; after they've had a few drinks of course.'

I could feel the last of her resistance to staying draining away. There was only one obstacle left and April spotted it first. She did a final twirl in front of the mirror before turning to me with a sigh. I felt apprehension, but was at a loss as to why. It soon became clear.

'I love the outfit. Not that I'd dream of wearing it if I wasn't a bit pissed. But there's one thing missing.'

'What? You look absolutely fantastic.'

'Thanks, but will I still look as good wearing those?'

She nodded towards her battered trainers lying alongside her pile of clothes. I immediately saw her point. There was no way she was going to fit into any of mine without looking like a kid playing dress-up. I had to come up with something quick, April was already picking up her own clothes and planning to get out of mine.

'What size shoe do you take?'

'Threes, sometimes fours if they're on the tight side.'

'Hang on just a minute.'

I scrabbled around for my mobile and called Gina. She was short too. There was just a chance she'd have similar sized feet. Of course, being Gina, she demanded a full explanation as to why I needed to borrow from her. Then she insisted I send a picture of the two of us together so she could settle on her own outfit. After the selfie was sent, I got an almost immediate text: Wow. I've got just the shoes for your friend. I'm going to have to rifle the stock if I'm going to out-slut the pair of you though. I showed it to April.

'Brilliant. Both your predictions in one message. Can't wait to see what you're friend's bringing.'

'I'll leave my shoes off too until she gets here. But now, lets go down and embarrass Nigel some more and pour some of that champagne into him. That boy needs to loosen up a bit, don't you think?'

We were rabbiting away like long-lost school friends as we descended the stairs. Nigel's expression when he first clapped eyes on us was similar to April's, just with added lust. Guys, especially young guys, like to think they're Joe Cool. But show them a couple of babes wearing outfits which leave almost nothing to the imagination and their dicks will give them away every time.

'Is that a phone in your pocket, or were you just thinking of calling?'

He clapped his palm to his forehead in mock exasperation.

'Just my luck. The two hottest women in town flashing their goodies for the world to see and both are off-limits to me.'

'Nigel.'

It was April calling out his name in a shocked tone not me. I was wryly amused at how comfortable he had become with sex and sexuality. We definitely had to up our flirting game before he started to become even remotely uncomfortable. He only called a halt when I started dropping hints about his concerns with penis-size and April warned us both that it would take a massive act of will on her part to stop herself shagging him before the night was over. She was asking us to make sure that didn't happen. Fortunately for him the doorbell rang before he had to respond.

Janet, my neighbour and a fount of all knowledge on the subject of anal sex, was standing there holding a bottle of wine. A chauffeur-driven car pulled into the drive and disgorged Marjorie, the oldest of our group and by far the most tolerant. Janet kissed me on the cheek and shook April warmly by the hand as she introduced herself.

'When I saw Gina's posting on WhatsApp I thought it was a wind up.'

'She hasn't?'

'Oh yes. I presume you two are on some kind of commission from her. When Geoffrey saw the pictures it was all I could do to stop him inviting himself round.'

'You didn't?'

'I had to come up with some kind of explanation as to why I was leaving the house dressed like this. You may take my coat, young man.'

She turned her back to Nigel and allowed him to take her thin summer coat from her shoulders. She was wearing a virtually translucent blouse with nothing underneath, a miniskirt which struggled to cover her bottom and fishnet stockings. I whistled and she curtsied before turning to Nigel.

'You look very much like a callow youth I see hanging round the neighbourhood, but much, much sexier.'

'Why thank you, ma'am.'

He bowed slightly and grinned.

'I wasn't going to mention that you remind me of someone who I used to meet regularly in my wet dreams. But you're sexier in the flesh than the fantasy version ever was.'

He turned to take Marjorie's wrap leaving all three of us speechless. Janet took April's arm and headed for the main room. I heard her raise the question of anal beads as they passed through the door. Marjorie was whispering conspiratorially to Nigel while she waited for me to be free. As the others left me she came over and gave me a big hug. She was wearing a slightly-less conservative outfit than usual enhanced with tasteful and clearly expensive jewellery. She was a woman comfortable with her own choices and not going to bow to Gina's lobbying, no matter how strident.

'I was just telling Nigel which of our friends are getting less from their husbands than they should be and asking him to pay special attention to them.'

She showed me a box of macaroons she had brought with her. It bore the markings of a Parisian patisserie and looked very expensive.

'My husband was there on business last week. But I thought the girls would enjoy them far more than the interminable guests I have to entertain. You did say no wine didn't you?'

'I did and thank you. It's unnecessary, but so typical. You're looking in the pink.'

'And you've chosen a most unusual outfit. It certainly has our little coterie all of a flutter. This should be an interesting evening.'

I explained to her the reasons for my choice and asked her - confidentially - to help guard April from the bitchier of our circle. Nigel passed through to the kitchen to get more champagne and we both watched him go.

'That boy's bottom reminds me of one I once snorted cocaine off a long, long time ago. Did I ever tell you the story? No? Who knows, maybe tonight will be the night for spilled secrets. We can but hope.'

Marjorie never ceased to both shock and intrigue. Indeed she revelled in it.

The doorbell rang again, as it did almost continuously for the next half-an-hour. Friends, acquaintances and I-suppose-I've-got-to-invite-thems arrived more-or-less promptly. The hall table groaned with unwanted bottles and the cloakroom and hall stand filled with coats. The wows slightly outnumbered the tart-sneers by a comfortable margin. The majority had chosen to dress as daringly as their wardrobes allowed. All-in-all things were buzzing.

Gina's arrival was all the evening needed to push it over the edge from champagne-fuelled merriment into party-party-party mode. To start with she was virtually naked under her coat. To call her skirt a micro-mini would be to exaggerate. Whilst definitely not a belt, it was closer to than than anything else; the tartan pleats flared from the thinnest of waistbands and the hem fell just at the bottom of her shaved pussy. I know it was bare because on top she wore a fishnet body stocking which closed between vagina and bum hole. The long-sleeved body was of a construction wide enough for her nipples to poke through comfortably. To them she had stuck a pair of tasseled pasties which glittered whenever she moved. And she moved a lot.

She posed in the doorway hand-on-hip and bumping it out like a burlesque stripper. A cheer went up when the rest saw her. I took her over to April who was delighted with the vertiginous heels she was lending. They had a thin strap above the ankle and a slight half-inch platform. When she stood she gained about five inches and looked around from her unexpected vantage point to a smattering of applause. I dug a pair of my own stilettos out of the hall shoe rack and together we circled the room posing as provocatively as you need to in a room of female acquaintances. Everyone took photos as we froze whilst planting scarlet-lipstick kisses on each of Nigel's cheeks. Side on we looked virtually naked under the phone flashes. He looked like a pig in shit, one hand on each of our hips and a grin so wide it almost reached our lips on either side. There was a furious tapping as the pictures were despatched to the southern Mediterranean - someone over there had been stoking competition with regular texts celebrating the sun and hinting at a later evening visit to a local strip club.

There was a minor revolt when Gina seconded Nigel. She insisted she needed his help to carry boxes from her car. When others offered to help as well she waved them away before shoving my laughing son through the door. She looked back leering like a fifties blue comedian and making grabbing motions with her hands only centimetres away from his arse. I hadn't known Marjorie could wolf whistle until then.

The room collapsed into laughter and then general raucousness erupted as replies started coming back from Spain. I saw rather than heard my own phone vibrating on the sideboard where I'd left it some hours before. Great pic. You're a naughty girl, I'll have to spank you when I get home. Who's the lucky guy? I smiled and sent a quick reply: I'm a good girl I am. But hold that thought in the strip club tonight. I want you home guilty AND horny xxx.

April had suddenly become the centre of attention. Several of the group waved phones bearing messages from their husbands asking who the blonde was. She was flustered by it all. Especially when they started cajoling her for more poses they could send to wind up the men. She looked to me and then Marjorie for confirmation that it was OK. I winked, Marjorie nodded enthusiastically. She managed a couple of provocative tableaux: one leaning forwards with her hands placed strategically over her breasts, the second shoving her bum out and looking back over her shoulder with a lascivious smile. Then she got cold feet and covered her face, shaking her head vigorously at all requests for more. There was a moment of quiet as the next Spain-bound digital salvo was launched. I exploited the distraction.

'Hey guys. I just got a text from Howard. He didn't even recognise his own son.'

'Hell, I didn't recognise him either. When did he become such a hunk?'

Janet's comment garnered far more laughter than mine. It quickly changed to cheers as the man himself returned laden with three cardboard cartons and Gina leading him solicitously. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who noticed that whilst one hand was on his forearm steering him around obstacles, the other was cupping one of his buttocks.

'Put that boy down. We need him to serve more bubbly. He's not just here to indulge your lustful cravings.'

That brought general agreement, but louder than was usual from a gathering of lodge ladies. There were snorts and hoots when an anonymous voice asked whether we were all allowed to grab his bottom too. Nigel put the boxes on the table we'd set aside for Gina and he scurried away to open another bottle and recharge glasses. I noticed it was the last in the two buckets of ice we'd set up to hold them and took the chance to escape to the kitchen to bring more in.

The silence and sudden solitude was something of a shock. I took a moment to gather my thoughts. The evening was definitely getting lewder than any of the other girls' nights I'd been to. That, I decided was a good thing and emptied the wine cooler of the last of the first case I'd bought. If we got through these, I calculated, we'd have consumed the equivalent of a bottle each. A glance at the clock told me it was only eight-thirty. This was going to be an interesting evening.

I was glad that April was fitting in despite her misgivings. I'd noticed animated conversations between her, Janet and Marjorie. She seemed to be enjoying herself. Nigel too was taking things in his stride. So far, at least. He'd known several of the group all his life, others had no idea who he was. As the level of friskiness rose, I was pleased to note that he was flirting back with all and sundry. He'd been playing up to some of the girls copping a feel and even, I noticed, started soliciting attention from the quieter ones: not that there were many of those.

I started loading the second case of champagne into the fridge to begin cooling, but took a break to draw myself a glass of water. I was feeling great, but didn't fancy two hangovers in the course of three days. I was also thinking about Howard. The night before he'd left, that is the day after Monique had balled him and his best friend David in a frenzied threesome, he'd taken her out to dinner at the town's most exclusive - and expensive - restaurant. The meal had been great, but the conversation had been better. They'd finally begun talking about the dualistic relationship he enjoyed with me: Monica, his wife and mother of his children; and Monique, the prostitute who charged him for sex and serviced his best friend as well as by now dozens of strangers picked up in a hotel bar.

It had been difficult for both of them. As Monica, she had told him how much she still loved him and how desperately she missed the physical side of their marriage. She had been meek and tentatively brought up the thought that maybe he had a desire to dominate and chastise her. She told him directly that she would be amenable to obeying him. It might not be Dickens, but 50 Shades of Grey is a great hook for conversations like that. She promised to leave a copy of the trilogy by his bedside before he returned from his golfing break. As Monique, she assured him he was a great fuck and she'd service him, with pleasure, for as long as he desired. She told him frankly that he was a dirty pervert and that bondage and severe chastisement, with the riding crop she kept for men like him, lay in his future.

Howard had been pensive during the first part of the conversation, nodding his agreement at many of the points she made. She had finished as they enjoyed the last of their main course. He took her hand, kissed it and promised things would be different in the future. He was more animated over dessert and three cups of coffee as Monique took centre stage. His eyes were bright and he almost salivated when she mentioned the crop. The cold air hit them as they left and they held hands as they crossed to the car. He kissed her tenderly before opening the door for her on the driver's side.

They had driven in silence for the first few miles. She had hoped that maybe Monica would be invited into his bed for the first time in a decade. But as they crossed the town centre he asked her to pull in by a cash point, saying he might have an appointment later in the evening. The implication was clear and when he came back to the car he had handed her a thin wad of notes. I had folded it and, after hoisting the dress, slipped the money beneath the hem of my stocking - Howard was getting as much of a taste for vintage-style lingerie as I was. I drove home without bothering to cover my legs again. Later, naked save for a pair of thigh-high boots, I gave him six of the best across his bare bottom. It was sharper and harder than she intended for his first encounter with the whip. I acknowledged now that that was probably an indication of her disappointment that he had not decided to invite Monica to his bed. When he recovered we had fucked hard and quickly before he'd gone back to his own room. I realised now that the whole experience had left me feeling maudlin, a mood which had persisted until his text with its reference to spanking.

I could take the introspection no further. The silence of the kitchen was broken by the slamming of the door against the wall as Hurricane Gina whirled in.

'Them bitches be crazy. What you up to, people were wondering?'

'I was just getting more bubbly. Sorry, I started thinking and got kind of distracted.'

'Well you need to get back in there. That lot are distractingthe hell out of themselves with that boy of yours. You don't want to miss it.'

For a vicar's wife, Gina was unusual. That's what all her friends assumed anyway. She insisted that as a breed, they were all eccentric. It was just that the oddities manifested themselves in different ways. On Sundays she was the picture of suburban respectability; I had even seen her decked out in hat, twin-set and pearls holding a bible as she ushered her two small children to evensong. The rest of the time, she was part businesswoman running a successful sex toy mail order firm, part mother-on-school run, part flirt and regularly part exhibitionist, up for any challenge at the wild parties she organised to promote her goods. She was bemused by the fact she had become an observer-participant at this one rather than having to goad our preternaturally stuffy gang into stepping even slightly outside our zone of respectability. I gulped down the rest of my water and prepared to reenter the fray while Gina filled me in on what I'd missed.