Sex in the City

'I want to thank you,' she said, her eyes still fixed on mine. 'You've opened the door for me. Give me a couple of weeks and I'll be bedding Shinny on your behalf.'

'Oh please,' said "Shinny".

'Yes,' Aileen retorted without looking at her, 'you're request is granted.'

'I didn't mean it like that.'

'I know you didn't. But it's going to happen anyway, so get used to it.'

'Out of my seat,' said Cait, arriving back at our table with a tray laden with fresh pints.

'We're swapping partners,' Aileen said, her eyes relentlessly on mine. 'Chat up Shinny while I focus on this beautiful babe. Who knows, a few more pints and the four of us might just end up back at my gaff, swapping for real.'

'I'm too far low down on the learning curve for that,' Sinead objected.

'Remember telling me all about your threesome with the two Kelly boys?' Aileen cackled again. 'When we were in our last year at school? You could give us all lessons about learning curves.'

'That was different.'

'No it wasn't. Not at the nitty-gritty level. Now shut up while I give your girlfriend a kiss.'

Chapter Nine

To my amazement Aileen did kiss me . . . right there in a very busy boozer. Too astonished to resist, I flicked my eyes in Sinead's direction. She was smiling as if she had seen it all before. Then, obviously not to be outdone, Cait kissed her. And she resisted not one whit.

My excuse is that I was halfway drunk but, authorised by Sinead's lack of a protest, I returned Aileen's kiss. That's to say I returned it in spades. And I hardly heard the catcalls and words of encouragement from a swarm of onlookers of both sexes.

Well, I did hear several guys asking if they could come along to see us "consummate affairs".

Okay, okay, I also heard one or two gals asking if they could come along too. I guess that's equality in its finest form.

After enjoying probably the most monstrous snog I'd ever had, Aileen more formally invited the three of us to her place. Sinead again deferred, despite being noticeably tipsy and having a mouth covered in Cait's crimson lippy.

(That's right; she'd had a monstrous snog of her own.)

'I'm sorry Aileen,' she said. 'I agree I owe you, but you'll have to wait awhile.'

'Fair enough,' said Aileen, unflappable as ever, 'keep me waiting, why don't you? In the meantime we can all drag our sexy asses off to the G.'

'She means the George,' Cait explained. 'It's the oldest gay bar in the world's biggest city.'

'The one that's Dublin all the time,' I said automatically.

'Sounds good to me,' said Sinead. 'Let's go for it.'

*****

Don't ask me for directions between the Flounge and the G. I went there arm-in-arm with Aileen and in a thick fog of best stout. Sinead was arm-in-arm with Cait and yes, we did stop en route for another marathon snog.

My God, wasn't Aileen good at snogging! Wasn't Eire the most welcoming place on earth!!

In case you are wondering, my hunger for food was long gone. Just try drinking umpteen pints of that black stuff and you'll know what I mean. Down enough and food doesn't seem to matter anymore.

My memories of the George are somewhat hazy. I'm sure from outside it looked like a pub you'd find in the centre of London . . . all gold lettering, beckoning punters in. I can't remember very much about inside apart from it being enormous . . . and they sold Guinness, of course . . . not as if I was allowed to buy a round.

In the distant mists of suds-sodden memory I do recall that the clientele was different to our opening venue; The G probably ran in at eighty-twenty in favour of gay guys. But the atmosphere was simply terrific.

And as for the drag act . . .

Trust me (as I keep saying), I am not an aficionado of drag acts of any variety. But that night's turn, "Darling Bridie McB", was sensational. I guess the only thing that kept him/her from winning Britain's Got Talent is the fact he/she was Irish.

Or maybe it was the flow of utterly foul gutter language and suggestiveness that had the audience in stitches.

Think Mrs Brown's Boys and times the obscenities by ten . . . or maybe a hundred and ten.

After God knows how many more beers we were out on the street. Still conscious of that big city buzz, I held Aileen's hand and could have been led . . . well, just about anywhere.

As it happened I was led into one of those narrow Dublin streets. Like a back street in London; know what I mean; the sort where Jack the Ripper might have claimed victim number three or four. There was some overhead lighting but not much. There were an awful lot of pools of deep shadow.

By the time we stopped, perhaps halfway down the alley, it was indisputably late; two in the morning, maybe later, Aileen was looking at me, letting go of my hand and pushing me toward Cait who'd been following us, hand-in-hand with Sinead.

'This is where we swap,' she said, suddenly not sounding at all drunk. 'You need to get to know Cait better. And I need to collect my debt from Sinead.'

'But,' I blubbered, belatedly remembering my earlier promise.

'But nothing, girl . . . Go on, you know you want to.'

Cait was on me before I could object again; all mouth, big tits and hot hands. Distantly I felt obligation to Sinead but one single glance in her direction confirmed she was already up close and personal with Aileen.

So much for bashes on noses and not even noticing, I thought, before abandoning myself to Cait.

Some battles simply aren't worth fighting.

Yes, dismissing the rest of the word as irrelevant, I avidly returned this latest kiss, enjoying the feel of that Baywatch chest on mine and the sensation of hands exploring my body. They were everywhere at the same time and growing bolder by the second. Our opening kiss grew warmer by the second.

Much more of this and I really would agree to anything!

And this was the femme half of the duo. What the hell was her butch bed-mate going to be like!

Without breaking our embrace I sneaked another glance at Sinead. She was currently rocking groins with Aileen, and rather vigorously at that. As I watched the action escalated significantly, Aileen's leg moving up into a very obliging position, Sinead instantly starting to rub herself off on it.

A virgin up until a week ago! I snorted. A learning curve to be followed!!

My ass!!

Then I got distracted. By some dark magic Cait's hands were inside my T.

'I've lusted after these all night,' she whispered, squeezing my erect nips. 'Feck me girl, could you be any more apparent?'

I reacted to her touch by flooding my rather flimsy panties.

'Glad you noticed,' I whispered back.

Cait sniggered a little and passed a moment or two moving her hand from one nipple to another. Then she abandoned my chest and slick fingers were under my skirt, slowly easing into those wet panties.

A girl with any self-respect would have objected.

I spared Sinead one final glance and saw she was now naked below the waist, as was Aileen. Their bodies were tightly locked and rocking again. Call it alcohol confusion, but I could not blame them.

No, I could not blame them at all.

And were we in a time warp or what? How had they semi-stripped while we merely kissed? We hadn't been at it that long, had we?

Were we really lagging so badly behind?

Perhaps we were. Those rocking groins were alternating enthusiastically. They were obviously taking fair turns. And I for one wasn't small-minded enough to object.

Believe me or not, I was glad for both of them.

I was glad for me, as well.

'Suck them,' I commanded, addressing Cait, pressing her head down, vaguely toward my (flat) chest.

Cait's hand was still in my increasingly soggy panties. Laughing, she pressed two fingers deeply into me, wiggling them fetchingly. Then, as an afterthought, she fastened her teeth around the nearest of my cotton-clad nipples.

Cue the biggest orgasm of all time.

Cue me responding with two hands, groping Cait like a teenager, high on grass and lust.

'Oh yes,' she responded, widening her legs. 'Oh yes please.'

I kept groping her, deep, deeper and deepest. She kept purring demands for more. That equation was a good one. I kept on doing my thing and she kept on fingering me and cumming.

Where's the problem in that?

*****

Let's get back to reality. I was out on a date with the delightful Sinead; Aileen was out on a date with a stunning Pamela Anderson lookalike. Yet there we were, in an alleyway . . . one of Dublin's streets so narrow . . . outraging public decency.

Remember me? I've had dozens of female lovers, forever refusing to settle. I'm no easy bed-mate with guilt because I have far worse than guilt on my conscience. But there and then, just for one moment, I was uneasy. I liked Sinead more than I should have.

And in an insane way I wanted her to stay pure; pure and devoted to me and me alone.

But here she was, a woman into a new existence, her earlier objections forgotten, seemingly ready to go for the all combinations of an all-girl foursome, and outdoors at that.

Perhaps telepathically, Sinead addressed me before I could address her. (They had finished before we did and had apparently watched us through our throes of great passion).

'We'd better move on before some guard trips over us,' she said. 'What do you say, 'is it Aileen's gaff or aren't you up for it?'

I blinked, trying to clear my head.

'You kept saying no,' I protested.

'I've changed my mind. So are we or what?'

'Isn't it supposed to be your decision, not mine?'

'We're partners in crime. You know, all for one and all that.'

'The musketeers weren't criminals.'

'That's not the point.'

A little surprised by the latest dilemma, I shrugged yet again. 'Say yes or no and I'll go with the flow.'

'Yes.'

'Rats, I knew you'd say that.'

'Is that an objection?'

'No it's not.' I sighed. 'But I want Aileen first.'

That prompted laughs and high fives from the other two girls and a wide grin from Sinead. It felt like an important bridge had been crossed, maybe one over troubled waters.

One I would never regret.