Professional Excellence Ch. 10

Apparently, the boys in Spain had loved the pictures of April and were begging for more. An unintended gauntlet was thrown down, however, when one of their number contacted his wife to say he trusted she was behaving herself. Mona, the wife in question, had not taken it well. Particularly as an accompanying photograph sent to another friend was taken outside a nightclub which bore a prominent neon sign of a naked woman sitting in a champagne glass. I, on the other hand, had been pleased to see Howard and David right in the centre of the group. Both were beaming.

'She remembered your comment about Howard not recognising Nigel. They made me dig out that mask and, well, things went downhill after that.'

Gina didn't sound in the least regretful. We both put the fresh bottles into ice. I decided to circulate with a bottle to top up glasses as our waiter was otherwise engaged. He had been enthroned in an armchair like an out-of-season Santa Claus as my friends fluttered around him waiting for their turn to sit on his lap and have their photos taken. The mask over his eyes was more Beano-burglar than Zorro. His face was smeared with multi-shades of lipstick. It was thickest in the centre of his cheeks, but obviously the more adventurous - or drunk - had strayed closer and closer to his mouth. Mona, who was currently enjoying his attentions, had gone all-in. She was grinding her mouth against his and her ample bottom into his groin. The hand he had on her arse, maybe to steady her, was making languid circles of encouragement as she moved.

'They're not backwards in coming forwards are they, your friends?'

'April. Sorry I've been neglecting you. I hope you're being treated well.'

I filled the empty glass she was holding.

'Yeah. They're not half as toffee-nosed as I thought, your mates. Oops, sorry. That's the champagne talking.'

'Oh they can be. In fact I don't think I've ever seen them so - what's the word? - unwound.'

We both laughed as a gaggle pulled a protesting Mona off Nigel demanding their turns. I took my chance and moved in to recharge more flutes. I was greeted like a lost hero. Everyone wanted to show me what was going on in Spain. The lap dancing club seemed to be doing booming business. I was pleased to see Howard appeared in the background of a number of my friends' pictures. I pointed him out to April after a somewhat ruffled Mona came over demanding more champagne and showed us some of the texts she'd received.

'You don't mind?'

'Between you and me, I'm delighted.'

'Have you seen what they're up to?'

Mona brought up a picture of her husband enjoying the attention of a naked, dark-haired twenty-something. He was clearly drunk, his shirt was unbuttoned to the navel and, judging by the expression on his face, he was about to cum in his trousers. She had her surgically-enhanced boobs pressed against him and her pussy hard against his dick. I almost asked her who had taken the photograph - they'd captured every detail perfectly - but managed to stop myself in time.

'I've got half-a-mind to have it away with the nearest bloke. Do you know how long it is since he and I, you know?'

Angry and horny she might have been, but she was still holding tight to her idea of good manners. It made me smile. April looked a bit shocked, and definitely confused.

'Do you think? Would you mind? I mean, he's a really good-looking boy. And between me and you, a lot better endowed than Andrew.'

She was looking at Nigel the whole time, so the implications of what she was saying we're clear. I laughed as if she was making a joke and played for time. The last thing I needed was the reputation in lodge-circles for being a facilitator of adultery and the inevitable scandal and divorce which would follow.

'Did I introduce you to April? She's Nigel's girlfriend's mum,'

That hit Mona like a bucket of cold water. Though still drunk, angry and horny, you could see her mentally flicking throughThe Respectable Housewife's Book of Etiquette desperately searching for a page which would give her a way out. I steered the conversation onto hairstyles and our common ground as working women - I explained to Mona that April was in the care industry. After a couple of minutes of it, with Mona's assumption that April was some kind of executive getting harder to entertain, I handed April the bottle and asked her to share that one while I opened another. I clutched Mona's elbow as she started to wander off too and took her with me to the impromptu bar.

'Why don't you write him a note?'

She looked justifiably confused.

'Nigel. Write him a note. I'm sure you'd agree that I wouldn't be a very good friend if I let you do something whilst tipsy which you might regret tomorrow. There's a a notebook in the drawer. Why not jot down your number and ask him to contact you? That'd give you some space. He'd be really pleased if you told him how much you liked his cock.'

I nodded at the drawer I'd mentioned and concentrated on opening another bottle. She'd opened her mouth to object to me using the word cock in company. She kept schtum, no doubt remembering her earlier almost-frankness. Over at the throne of King Nigel things were getting more explicit. Christine, a well-endowed girl I knew from the gym, took Nigel's hand and placed it on her right breast before grinning for her selfie. Not to be outdone, Linda demanded another go and had a less-than-reluctant Nigel put his hand up her skirt. Both received squeals of appreciation from the group gathering tighter and tighter around the armchair.

Their competition to outdo each other was interrupted by a shout of anger from the other side of the room. Mary, a normally reserved GP's wife, was waving her phone under the noses of anyone who was interested. It was clear from her ranting that a photo had arrived from Spain of her husband receiving a blow job from another of the club's silicone-enhanced beauties. Before anyone could stop her, or figure what was going on for that matter, she was struggling our of her panties. The stockings and suspenders and then the sight of a shaved pussy was a pleasant surprise. I had Mary marked down as an adventuress - she frequently wore plunging necklines and hems just shore enough to draw comments from other members of the group.

Before anyone could stop her she had shoved the Nigel fan club out of the way. He looked surprised as she leapt on to him, before more gently straddling him and pulling up the back of her skirt to reveal her naked arse. She's not heavy, maybe nine stone in a five-seven frame. She always keeps her glossy black hair in a pageboy cut. Nonetheless Nigel squirmed beneath her trying to adjust the pressure on his testicles which she was applying vigorously. Her pose was completed with a stiff middle finger aimed at the camera over which she had draped her thong. She looked back at her best friend Josephine, designated photographer - you can imagine what the vicar's wife in Gina made of that pairing.Lascivious sneer is the closest I can get to describing her expression and I'm not even sure that's a possibility. She pushed herself harder down onto poor Nigel and arranged his hands on her bare bottom while phones flashed and her audience urged her on. I decided, on the same basis as my earlier intervention with Mona, to stop it before real relationship-damage was done. Gina beat me to it though with a piercing whistle which wouldn't have been out of place in a football crowd.

'OK you trollops, enough. Any of those pictures go to Spain and fingers will be broken.'

She paused for breath against a background of rumbling discontent. But she was not to be deterred.

'Forward the shots to Mary, then delete them. If she wants Doctor Greg to see them she can send them tomorrow. She's every right to fuck up her own marriage; we don't.'

That at least quelled the dissenters. There was a lot of looking down at phones as busy fingers tapped. And Gina was on a roll.

'Anyone'd think it's the first time any of you've met a male stripper. Oops, did I really say that?'

She should have led with that rather than the whistle. For a full ten seconds there was complete silence. All eyes first stared at Gina's butter-wouldn't-melt expression, then to Nigel, then me and then back to Gina again. Nigel appeared oblivious to the attention. He'd obviously told Gina, and therefore perhaps others as well, about his new hobby, so I tried to follow his lead and keep my face blank.

I chipped in as the silence eventually broke into a tentative hubbub. One or two - aside from April and me - were probably in on Nigel'ssecret. Most of the others didn't want to let on that they didn't know anything about it, but at the same time wanted to double check to make sure it wasn't a Gina-wind-up. Difficult. Only the wife of a senior local copper expressed vocal surprise and disapproval. Melanie always was a prissy cow, but she shut up when she realised she had no allies. She hated it any time anyone brought up the occasion she'd fucked the whole of the cricket first XI when we were in the sixth form. She knew that if she pushed the morality thing it was only a matter of time before someone's start makingdouble entendres about 'long legs' or 'getting caught in the gulley'. Poor jokes, I know, but they'd served us well over the years.

'I think it's time for Gina's pass the parcel. And don't forget the charity raffle which was the point of this evening if you remember. Its for the local Refuge, so I hope you've all brought plenty of cash.'

That brought a muted cheer from the assembled dipsomaniacs. Several of the girls took the opportunity for a pee break and the room rapidly started to empty. I beckoned Nigel over to the food table.

'You OK?'

'Sure. I never realised your friends were such a randy bunch.'

'Probably for the best. You seem to be making an impression.'

I looked down at the hard-on clearly outlined inside his tight trousers. He laughed, I thought immodestly.

'Yeah. I'm going to have to spend half the night masturbating if they carry on like this.'

I leaned closer to him to make sure no one else could hear.

'Everyone needs a hobby, I suppose. Play your cards right and I might be persuaded to give you a hand.'

I smiled as innocently as I could and gave him a tray of nibbles.

'Try and get your fan club to eat a bit. I think I might have pushed the bubbly a bit too hard. There's still loads left though, and the night is still young.'

He laughed and was swamped by admirers almost as soon as he turned around. I scanned the room and went over to a sobbing Mary who was being consoled by Jo. I added another sympathetic arm across her free shoulder.

'Seventeen years. Seventeen years.'

'There, there. You let it all out.'

'Seventeen years. I've given everything to him.'

'I know, I know.'

'I'd never had a cock in my mouth until I met him, you know?'

I assumed that was directed at me so I made sympathetic noises.

'Buggery. I've even let him stick it up my bum as well. You ever had to do that?'

'Well.'

'Hurts like hell. But he seems to like it.'

'Probably not doing it properly.'

I regretted it as soon as I let the words out. Josephine shot me a censorious look. Mary started sobbing harder.

'I suppose that's my fault too.'

'Not at all, not at all. Look, I just came over to check on you. I hope you don't mind us interrupting you and Nigel. It's just, well you know what some of them are like. I didn't want anything recorded that you might regret tomorrow.'

'Fuck him. That's what I say. Do you think Nigel would? I mean.'

Her question trailed off, leaving me feeling a little like his booking agent. I whispered directions to the notebook I'd told Mona about and assured her he'd contact her if she left her number. I left to find Gina leaving Mary and Jo huddled in a less-tearful conversation.

'OK you slatterns. Put that stripper down. Time for the main event.'

Gina was ahead of me as usual, shouting her orders from the coffee table and clutching a large parcel to her chest. Pass the parcel was a mainstay of Gina's party entertainment. I'd participated in two or three myself. It followed the rules of most kids' equivalents: when the music stopped whoever was holding tore off a layer of paper. She spiced things up by substituting the juniors' tiny bags of sweets with more adult gifts. Condoms and edible panties were always favourites and guaranteed general hilarity as the recipient was teased and cross questioned. We'd discussed tonight's gifts and, even if I do say so myself, I'd come up with some interesting twists. This was due in no small part to Gina's in-put and her willingness to let me get the gifts at cost.

The secret to a good game of pass-the-parcel, as every mother knows, is to make sure everyone playing gets a small gift and the big prize in the middle is won by pure luck. I put myself in charge of the music and soon the room was full of squealing, laughing women. Nipple clamps and novelty pasties filled out the prize packages and soon pictures were speeding south through the digital ether. Gina was forced to break out the pasties she'd been planning to auction early. Everyone wanted to send a picture of themselves holding them in front of their nipples.

At this stage, it was over clothing. Cheeky replies from Spain hit peak, however, when someone sent a picture of my breasts which were already sporting the stick-on nipple covers. Suddenly there were blouses and bras everywhere as almost all my guests wanted to emulate my success. The only non-players were Majorie and April who sat together at the end of the sofa staring a what was going on: Marjorie with wry amusement, April with an expression between bemusement and shock. Gina tried to get some sanity into proceedings. At least that's what I think she was doing.

'Ladies, ladies. What we need here is a 'name those breasts' competition. What do you think? Make them promise to contribute to the Refuge fund to enter. Then send over the pictures one at a time, all from the same phone.'

'What's the prize gonna be?'

Janet's question brought things to a temporary quiet. Marjorie smirked as she chipped in.

'What about a blow job from the competitor of their choice?'

The quiet became absolute. I realised I'd forgotten to restart the background playlist after we'd finished passing the parcel. It also occurred to me that the unveiling of the strap-on we'd included as the major gift and expected to cause ripples of its own had passed almost unnoticed. April had torn off the final layers of paper just about the time the first excited Iberian responses started coming in. Everyone had insisted before we started that she have two goes each round, one for herself, the other for me. When she realised what she'd won she mouthedIt's yours across the crowded room and immediately stashed it down beside the sofa.

'I could let them fuck me up the bum, if you like.'

Janet was back in the game, and there was a smattering of laughter at her suggestion. And one or two goldfish impersonations by many who assumed their own spouse was sure to be the victor.

'Unless its Dr Greg, of course. He's shit at it. Just ask Mary.'

That got a loudyeah from the woman herself and rebooted the general excited chatter. Someone piped up with the question of who we were going to get to organise things at their end. I volunteered to contact David and there was a murmur of agreement that he'd most likely be the best behaved. They didn't know him as well as Monique did. I sent a long text outlining our suggestion and was then immediately roped in to glueing and positioning flimsy coverings over nipples. Nigel was made official photographer by acclaim. He was having a whale of a time.

His models were thoroughly uncooperative. Particularly after he had to take hold of Linda and mould her into the position which showed off her assets to best advantage. After that everyone wanted to be touched up, or have their pasties straightenedso as not to reflect the light. I'd been through the same pleasures with his friend Charlie for whom I was now modelling pretty regularly. The whole exercise took more than half-an-hour. When I no longer had customers waiting I went over to Marjorie and April who were still ensconced on the sofa.

'Not playing girls?'

'I think not. Whilst I'm not embarrassed or ashamed of my breasts, I think their mature status would be an easy guess for any of the competitors. But what about you, my dear? You're the dark horse in this game, so to speak. They could use you as a tie-breaker.'

April laughed, but continued to demur.

'I owe it to Janet's bottom to be fair.'

'I suppose there is a chance that one of them might know about Nigel and Alice and take a wild punt.'

'Exactly. I almost offered myself as a runners-up prize. This whole evening has reminded me over and over how long it is since I had a decent fuck. Oops, sorry Marjorie.'

'No need to apologise, my dear. But if you'll take my advice, I'd play much harder to get with that particular audience. I'm pretty sure whoever won would be hard pushed to satisfy you.'

She looked at her glass, modestly. I laughed and April joined in, though I thought I detected a slight disappointment in her reaction. She obviously enjoyed her position as desirable woman of mystery. I asked her to circulate with a bottle of champagne and went off to find Gina to plan the next stage in proceedings. I had to send another text to David to ask what was going on. I'd heard nothing since my original proposal. His reply was prompt.

'How do we pay the entrance fees?'

I first thought of Monique's account. I knew David had the details. But after a brief word, Gina agreed to launder the donations through her business. Better not to risk questions about why I had an on-line business account. Especially given the number of booze-loosened lips on both sides of the line. Nigel said he had set up some sort of channel so that the tit-pics could be shown one at a time while the teams at the other end tried to guess. It was well beyond my capability to understand, and in the end I had him call David to give an idiots, step-by-step guide to the equally challenged participants in Spain. This all took some time, during which we all got drunker and the messages coming from the strip club got progressively cruder.

Janet had apparently texted her husband to seek permission to donate her bum hole to charity. On a strictly one-off basis, she assured him. The only quid pro quo he'd demanded had been that should he win, I had to administer a winner's blow job. I announced my text to the assembled girls.

I'd have to get my husband's permission.'

He's all for it.'

Came back almost immediately, followed by a confirmatory text from Howard himself.

'Its for a good cause dear.'

'Well in that case...'

Was as far as I was willing to commit publicly, but judging by the reaction around the room there was no strong objection to the idea. Nigel managed to get the images he was showing onto our wide screen television and there were squeals and embarrassed shouts each time the picture changed. Various friends shouted out the texts they were getting from their husbands and announcing their replies. There was quite a competition going on for both humour and outrage. It was interesting to watch the body language. The TV obviously became the focus of the room. Friends sat and stood around, arms casually thrown over shoulders or around waists. This was definitely not the usual buttoned down gathering.

'You're going to have to give us a few minutes to complete. Some here haven't even got one yet.'

David's text was greeted with cheers and mocking laughter all round. Fingers got busy reinforcing the message. Nigel put the slide show on repeat and set about serving more snacks. It was noticeable that no one - not even Marjorie - managed to accept a tid-bit without touching him somewhere. Usually it was an arm, not infrequently he got his bum stroked. Mona ran her finger along his erection and whispered something which made them both laugh.