The Consul's Wife

"No. Not there. A little higher. More. Yes, there. That's good. Go on."

Carole sighed gently, widened her legs to allow the girl's fingers deeper access, lifted her pelvis to intensify the pressure of the lapping tongue. Then there was silence for a long while until a single elongated word - "Yesss" - followed by a slow relaxation marked Carole's orgasm.

The girl stood and straightened her maid's uniform. "Will that be all this time? Does Madame require - "

"No thank you, Martine. You were very good. It will be enough for today. You may go." Martine bobbed her head in acknowledgement and left the bedroom.

In the three months since the girl had been recruited, Carole reflected, she had made good progress. It had helped that Martine had been introduced and then initiated in the more intimate aspects of her duties by her predecessor, who had left to return to her village to get married. The islanders were reasonably relaxed about such matters as long as they were conducted discreetly, but the process of replacing a capable servant could be tedious. Martine, with her voluptuous breasts and slim thighs, had an instinctive sensuality which Carole had been quick to encourage. She would suggest to Marcel a small increase in the girl's wages. They were hardly generous. Wealth among the island's population resided with the descendants of the original colonists, mainly French with some Dutch and Scandinavians.

Recently Marcel had been talking enthusiastically about the changes to be expected once the planned international airport was complete. "People will look back on the present as the dark ages. By 1975 the first runway will be open and the tourists will start pouring in. Heaven knows, the economy needs it. And think of this - we might then be able to start recruiting your ... maids directly from France."

"Not that you would object, my dear." Carole was well aware of Marcel's tastes. Her husband nodded and returned to his newspaper.

Back in provincial France, Carole knew, people would be shocked if they knew the details of their marriage. But on the island it worked for them in all its manifestations. Since coming to live here her sexual appetites had grown, her desire ever more present, fostered perhaps by the tropical heat. In the early days there had been difficulty in obtaining satisfaction, but that had been overcome - admittedly in a manner she could not have foreseen - and now she was never in want of means to satisfy her physical needs. It would be surprising if tomorrow night's dinner party failed her expectations.

*********************

Carole and Marcel first met a few years after the end of the war in Europe. They were both students at the Sorbonne, she meeting the demands of ambitious parents, he experiencing life away from the island for the first time. Paris in that heady era was a place where Libération had more than one meaning, especially for the young. For a few months Carole and Marcel became lovers but their sexual activity, while strong in youthful lust on Carole's part, lacked expertise from Marcel and they drifted apart.

After graduating cum laude in modern languages, Carole worked as an interpreter and later in the office of a rising politician. She became his mistress and then his wife, whereupon he took another mistress. When Carole became aware of her rival she solved a potential problem by persuading her husband that they should spend occasional evenings à trois. The situation, much enjoyed by all three, was abruptly halted when her husband's implication in a financial scandal resulted in a jail sentence. Sexual licence was viewed, in the capital at least, as part of the way of life but where money was concerned social stigma followed. Carole had divorce papers served at the prison.

The story had sufficient resonance to merit a few paragraphs in the international press, which was how Marcel came to hear of it. His letter found her c/o the Sorbonne's old alumni index. He was sorry, he said, to read of her troubles and hoped that she had found a new stability. However, if that were not the case, perhaps she would care to accept his hospitality on the island: come when she liked, stay as long as she liked. He explained that his father had retired and gone to live in Provence, leaving Marcel to inherit the export and import business together with the duties of French Consul. The latter position was mainly administrative, not onerous but it did convey status among the resident European community.

On a whim, Carole accepted. Within weeks her language skills had made an opening for her in Marcel's business; similarly, her marital past had left her with other skills which gave her access to Marcel's bed - though, it must be said, with limited reciprocation. The intervening years of bachelorhood, hadn't improved his technique. The island itself, though, exerted a lotus-land influence which she found irresistible. With no reason to return to France in a hurry, she allowed herself to settle into a routine existence with Marcel. She still harboured vague hopes of some improvement in her sex life but when the opportunity arose it came as a total surprise.

The wedding which Marcel believed his status as Consul required was a spectacular affair attended by everyone who was anyone in the island's close-knit society. And it had one wholly unexpected consequence. When Marcel, emboldened by numerous champagne toasts, whispered in his bride's ear that it might be interesting to invite one particular couple to stay behind after the reception was over she accepted readily though it was curiosity rather than expectation that fuelled her agreement. There was no planned honeymoon, nor was there reason to suppose that retiring to bed would be in any way memorable. Marcel was a considerate husband in many respects but sexually he remained a disappointment. Why not linger over a coffee and brandy?

The other couple were Nils and Astrid, a Swedish pair in their forties. After the last of the guests and servants had departed Carole went to the kitchen to make coffee. Almost at once she was joined by Astrid. The woman closed the door and, without saying a word, pulled Carole to her and kissed her, open mouthed, tongue exploring. There had been no hint of what to expect but any resistance Carole might have shown dissolved on the instant as the embrace evoked memories of similar passion from her ex-husband's mistress.

They broke apart just as Marcel put his head round the door to ask if they would like brandy to accompany their coffee. Apparently realising what he had almost interrupted, Marcel went out with a quiet remark to Astrid which Carole couldn't hear. "What was that?" she asked.

Astrid smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, my dear. I gather Marcel hasn't told you about our little circle here, and I assumed you knew." She stepped away, holding Carole at arm's length and regarding her quizzically. "What must you have thought of me?"

"Little circle?"

"I suppose it's not very original, really. You know, of course, that there's a number of us here who all know each other well, see each other frequently at cocktail parties, receptions, dinner parties, that sort of thing. Mostly it's the Europeans but there are few islanders of the right standing. One or two of the names might surprise you. But this is, after all, the tropics where life can be a bit unreal."

So I'm discovering, thought Carole, but she said nothing.

Astrid went on, "Some years ago we had a messy divorce case over some bed-hopping and when we thought about it afterwards it all seemed so unnecessary. There are no moral snoops here, no tabloid exposés, thank goodness. Anyway, a group of us were discussing it one night and - you know how it is, one thing led to another ... and we concluded that some occasional exchanges that weren't furtive and deceitful might be beneficial all round. And that's how it all started. I think most people welcome it. Nils and I certainly do."

"Who knows about it?"

"Difficult to say. People who've been involved leave the island, newcomers arrive and some are invited to join in if they seem - well, you know, the right kind of people. Not too young. The young are so prudish, so easily shocked. Don't you think?"

"But Marcel never mentioned anything to me."

"Probably because he was one of the few among the inner circle who didn't know. To be honest, it was Nils who told him about it just the other day. He suggested that now he has a wife, he might be interested in joining in. He told me Marcel was keen but very nervous. Maybe - "

"Maybe the champagne tonight game him the courage?"

"I guess so."

Carole smiled. "Shall we go and find out?"

There was no doubt, Carole thought, that Marcel looked apprehensive when they returned. Not so Nils. He rose and pre-empted discussion by taking Carole into his arms and kissing her with a vehemence that was fully equal to anything his wife had demonstrated in the kitchen.

Like Marcel, Carole had refused nothing when the champagne had circulated at the reception. Now, slightly tipsy and aroused first by Astrid and then Nils, she succumbed to the moment. Even as she widened her lips to accept her partner's tongue, she felt hands lifting her skirt, stroking her buttocks, insinuating themselves between her legs. The hands were not Marcel's: foreplay of this nature wasn't his style. If, therefore, she was being groped by Astrid - well, so much the more welcome.

By the time Nils broke away for breath, Carole was ready to surrender to whatever the Swedish couple wished. She raised her arms to allow Astrid to remove her dress. Seconds later she dropped to the floor as Nils, seated again, withdrew a cock already semi-erect. While she took it into her mouth she spread her knees to permit continued access for Astrid's probing fingers. Her cunt was wet to a degree it rarely was for Marcel.

The thought prompted her to lift her head from Nils to look around for her husband. He was seated facing them. His trousers and shorts were round his ankles and his hand was moving purposefully along the length of a cock in such a state of arousal as she could seldom recall. Meeting her gaze, he smiled and nodded. "Go on," his look seemed to her to be saying, "Please don't stop. I want to see you give them everything. Let them do what they want. Enjoy it. It's turning me one." His tacit approval - or had it been given orally in advance? Carole mused - permeated the room, conveyed encouragement to the others.

For the next hour - or maybe two, Carole lost all sense of time - they fingered and fondled, squeezed and caressed, licked and sucked, handled and smacked, fucked and fucked again. Carole and Astrid, all restraint abandoned, gave themselves up to noisy orgasms. Nils, taking occasional rests while the two women interlocked, contrived to maintain his rigid hardness until with one final blur of speeding hand on erupting cock he poured his cum first on to one face then the other.

Eventually recovering, Carole looked at the chair where her husband had been sitting and watching. It was empty.

*********************

Over several ensuing days, Carole tried to discuss their wedding night with Marcel. At first she was met by a stubborn unwillingness to co-operate. When he finally gave in and confessed, he said his reticence had been caused by embarrassment. Sex was something that happened between them but wasn't talked about. Well, said Carole, it was time for change.

It wasn't such an extraordinary story once Marcel could bring himself to put it into words. He knew that he was a poor lover, unable to give Carole the satisfaction she craved but he loved her deeply and was terrified that she might leave him. The anxiety only added to his inhibitions and reduced still further his ability to perform. So when Nils told him about the island's inner circle, Marcel saw it as a means to fulfil his wife's undoubted needs. That was why he had agreed, why he had been pleased that Carole went along with the way the evening developed.

But, Carole interjected, how did he explain his masturbation, the erection that was anything but sub-standard.

Another embarrassed silence. At last finding the words, Marcel confided that the whole effect had been just as much a surprise to him. He had only wanted Carole to have a partner who would give her what he himself couldn't. Astrid's participation was unforeseen. But watching the unbridled couplings aroused him in a way he had never before experienced.

Never, Carole asked.

Well, yes, said Marcel, but a long time ago. As a youth he had spied several times on his parents' love-making, and that had led to persistent masturbatory fantasies. In short, Carole told herself, Marcel needed voyeuristic stimulation in order to achieve a satisfactory orgasm. Well, at least the problem was now out in the open and they could try to progress from where they were. They agreed that they loved each other and wanted nothing more than each other's happiness. Sex was a part of that bond, albeit an important one, but only a part. Marcel claimed that he had had strong physical desires, too; the problem was finding a means to satisfy them. For a while they tried to find a solution in more varied sexual activity but Marcel couldn't overcome his self-consciousness.

Marcel was forty-five, Carole forty-three. They were too young to relegate sex to an insignificant part of their lives. Carole, indeed, felt that she should be coming to her sexual prime. The night with Nils and Astrid had been a defining experience for her. She knew she wanted more not less. So, seemingly, did Marcel. An idea was forming in her mind. The only questions were how to put it to Marcel, and where they would be if he rejected it.

Nothing for it but to confront it head-on. "Marcel, my love, may I make a suggestion?"

"Of course. Why not?"

"Because it's a radical proposal and I want you to be absolutely clear that you can say no. If you do, I will accept your decision. I promise there will be no acrimony, no recriminations. It will just be forgotten."

She held her husband's gaze while he wondered what would follow. He said, "Well, then?"

"Let me put it like this: if the session with Nils and Astrid was a success - for both of us - doesn't that point the way forward?"

Another long pause. "How?"

"To put it bluntly, I enjoyed everything we did, Nils, Astrid and I. My only concern was that you would feel left out. But that wasn't the case, was it? I enjoyed doing it and you enjoyed watching me. True?"

"Yes. True."

"So what I'm suggesting is that there's no reason to stop. What was good then can be good again. We simply have to recognise the way we both are. To acknowledge to ourselves that we can continue to give each other pleasure - you by freeing me to enjoy other partners without betraying you, me by knowing that watching will provide you with the excitement that is otherwise missing."

Marcel leaned forward and kissed his wife's forehead. "My darling," he said, "I don't know what I have done to deserve so wise and understanding a wife. Perhaps this will work. If it is what you want, I believe we should try."

"Thank you," said Carole, touched by the effort she knew this had required from Marcel. "But now I want to ask you a little more. We need to face all the possibilities. For example, do we want to limit ourselves to repeating the Nils and Astrid relationship. As I understand it, they are not the only liberated couple on the island. How would you feel if - "

"Don't go on. We are opening Pandora's box, aren't we?"

"Yes. And?"

"I think we should try. If it was good with Nils and Astrid, why not with others? If I am honest, I think I would be excited."

"Let me suggest something else, then. This all goes back to you watching your parents. In your words, spying on them. Suppose, just now and then, you didn't sit in your chair watching us. Suppose we could contrive a way for you to spy on us? I would know, of course, but the others needn't. I think I might be turned on even more by that."

From that beginning Carole and Marcel worked out a modus operandi that increasingly fulfilled them both, outrageous though it might have seemed to more conservative couples. As time passed, husband and wife both had notions that added to the arrangement. After watching through a partially-open door, Marcel had the idea of commissioning the island's glassworks to instal throughout the house a large number of two-way mirrors behind which he could sit and observe without his presence being detected. This proved particularly beneficial when Carole found her first maid who could relieve a somnolent afternoon with some intimate attention.

*********************

The dinner was never conceived as a formal business occasion. As Consul, Marcel's role was as facilitator. This was simply a social get-together prior to the next day's business meeting at which there was to be an exchange of views between Government officials and three companies bidding to participate in construction of the island's proposed new international airport. Present at the dinner were the three official representatives, all men of substance - Robert, a senior Director of nn et Cie; Pascal, Corporate Contracts Manager for xx Internationale; and Henri, the French delegate of a major US construction company. Also invited were M. Laurent D., Minister of Commerce and Tourism, and his wife, Sophie.

This last pair were no strangers to the Consul's dinner parties - they were valued members of the inner circle, valued for Sophie's voracious sexual appetite and Laurent's well-endowed means of dealing with it. Carole had been promised that this time there would be a difference: they had every intention of endeavouring to co-opt the participation of their important guests. The island needed overseas investment and one way to attract it was to offer hospitality that might provoke a wish to return regularly. At least, that was Laurent's belief. If he and Sophie could pull it off without scandalising their visitors, Carole had told Marcel, they were in for a unique combination of business with pleasure.

The objective was achieved with surprising ease. After the servants had been dismissed and the group were lingering over another bottle of Marcel's imported Chateau Lafitte, Laurent launched a discussion of sexual standards as they currently obtained in France and the United States. Having heard the views of the guests, cautiously expressed but revealing a curiosity about where the conversation was leading, Laurent suggested that they might be interested to know of the more enlightened attitudes that prevailed on the island. Not necessarily among the populace at large, he explained, but certainly among an enlightened inner circle. Of which he and Sophie, Marcel and Carole, were members. Would the guests like an example, he asked.

The three men looked at each other warily. It was possible to sense that individually they were all hooked but none wanted to give a lead. Unperturbed, Laurent took silence for assent. "Excellent," he declared. "Sophie, my dear - if you please."

Sophie, a petite blonde whose trim figure belied her almost fifty years, rose and removed the tailored jacket of her maroon suit. Underneath she wore only a transparent blouse. Her small breasts needed no support. A natural exhibitionist, the very act of displaying herself to complete strangers has already caused the dark nipples to harden. She looked at the three men, smiled and crossed to Henri, who was leaning forward in his chair and moistening his lips. Turning her back, she asked him to unzip her skirt. It was an action she could easily have performed herself, but the alacrity with which Henri complied was clear confirmation that the plan had succeeded. No-one was going to withdraw in prudish horror. On the contrary, all eyes were soon devouring a neat, round arse clad in clinging black knickers.