Uncovering Repressed Desires Ch. 08

"It looks incredible!" Mel said, not remembering this was my life for the last month: incredible venues with incredible views, with incredible people. "Like a dream."

We ordered drinks, I toasted us, and I reached across the table to hold Mel's hand. "I want to focus on you tonight and move forward."

I felt a little awkward with that last statement, but I let it sit, sipping my scotch and water, feeling the moment in a broader sense. The ball was in her court, the game set up by my sexual puppet master. I sensed her ready to say something; she smiled and ran her finger over her chin before rubbing her right arm but said nothing.

"Excuse me," the server said, setting down two more drinks, "the man at the next table wanted you to have these."

We turned to see a 40-something tall man with dark black, slicked-down hair in a shirt and tie holding a drink in his hand as if to toast us. He was sitting at a table alone. We toasted him back, looking at each other confused. Mel shrugged her shoulders as if to say, 'What the heck?' He stood up and walked the few steps over to us. Mel and I looked at each other, knowing where this might be heading.

"I hope I'm not too forward," he said, extending his hand. "John Harris. I'm here overnight and hate dining alone. Do you mind if I join you?"

"We were having a night—" I started to say, playing the game, testing Mel's eagerness.

"John, it would be our pleasure," Mel said, surprising me. I knew the 'three options' included entry points, and it was apparent John was sent here by Mr. Donnovan. In my early training, we were instructed to make it difficult for our clients by not falling into the role too soon.

"Are you sure...umm..." John said, looking my wife up and down, searching for a name.

"Melanie or Mel," she said, extending her hand and standing up.

"Please, sit down." John motioned to the server, letting him know his table wasn't needed and that he'd be "Dining with these two lovely people."

"Mel, you look beautiful," John said, turning to me, "Your wife is gorgeous, and I can see why you would want her to yourself this evening."

Mel smiled knowingly, like we were reading each other's minds and internally laughing at the 'to yourself' comment considering our discussions of sharing her openly.

"Oh, he's had me to himself for eight years now," she playfully said, lobbing that out there. The ensuing conversation was textbook in terms of wooing Mel. "We certainly can keep you company this evening."

John was a skilled conversationalist who asked questions about our marriage, son, jobs and other aspects of our lives. We asked him similar questions and discovered he was a widower and a pilot who had recently transferred to his new home base of Des Moines. He was staying two nights due to scheduling.

We had a short 'educators are rock stars' exchange, though I didn't tell him I had entered the world of business and client booking. He shared that his wife died of breast cancer, and they had no children. The server returned to our table, and we ordered light meals and another round of drinks. The rest of the questions, over half maybe, focused on Mel; her major in college, her 'dream job,' where she would retire if money weren't an option, whether we wanted more children, her favorite music and the most romantic night we shared.

Mel answered the last question first. "With a one-year-old at home, you have to make do. We recently shared a moment in the living room with the window shade opened to the street," Mel said, blushing, her eyes down. "It was several moments."

I looked at John, his attention fixed on my wife, thinking, constructing a narrative that I believe was his reality

"Beautiful," John said, then turned to me. "I'm sure tonight will be a nice getaway for you both. Please excuse me a moment." John placed his drink down and headed to the bathroom.

Mel sensed he was upset and missing his wife. She looked at me through her warm eyes, and I could tell she was thinking about the things we'd talked about the last few days. I waited for her inevitable comment and questions.

"He's very lonely," Mel said, looking towards the bar and bathroom areas where he disappeared. "Where did you find him, and where's his partner if you've set up a swap?"

Mel's openness caught me a little by surprise; she had easily read the situation and wanted clarity with no apprehension. "I thought we could set something up with Ruthie and Jerry. We could invite them on another vacation together or stay in town to see a band," I said. I decided to shift gears, again making it about Mel. "I'll explain later. I want this to be about you and your satisfaction."

John appeared again. His absence allowed us to discuss our plans, but not enough time to think rationally about the consequences. Mel's smile when he sat down convinced me that John would be involved with us, especially in gratifying her.

"Airline food is not a good choice for breakfast," John chuckled. "I apologize if my question was too personal, and thank you for sharing that intimate moment between you two."

"No, it's alright, John," Mel said, looking at me and then at him, her eyes sensing his feelings. "We're delighted you joined us."

"Mel, you mentioned classical after country and R & B when I asked your favorite music, "What elements of classical, or should I say instruments, do you like?" John asked a question that took a step back from talking about sex, but he turned out to be a maestro of turning music talk into sex talk.

"I played bassoon in high school and like it in the background when studying or working," Mel said, her eyes taking her to those places. "The violins or bass can be as soothing as the brass sections."

"Interesting," John said. Our meals arrived; he had a healthy-looking salad, I a steak sandwich, and Mel ordered stir-fry. He generally talked about instruments in between bites. I brought up my piano background, earning a welcome smile and follow-up questions from John. We learned he played the violin in college and performed in various large groups in his hometown and college town for years.

"I don't have the time anymore to practice, much less perform," John said, finishing his salad and ordering us another round of drinks. I was feeling the alcohol, and I could tell Mel was too. Her laugh was a little louder, and she reached out a couple of times, touching either my forearm or John's after we made a few quips.

"I like the violin the most because it responds to how you treat it," John said, his plate getting cleared with ours. "The strings act as long nerves; your touch and pressure against them, deep into the neck of the instrument, creating the tension and then drawing the bow back on the strings, how it slides over and back, pressing it in and across before dragging it out and away."

'What was he talking about?' I thought, nerves and neck, creating tension, moving back, sliding over, pressing... I was getting hard. I looked at Mel, her eyes fixed on John as he demonstrated, pulling an invisible bow with his hand and pressing the imaginary neck.

"There is so much symmetry between, or assimilation of, playing an instrument and the human body responding to touch," John said, looking at Mel. She was in the palm of his hand. She adjusted in her seat, and I expected her pussy was getting warm; her desire giving way to the permission I had granted to be taken by this man.

"Have you ever had a Swedish massage, Mel?" John asked, staring into her face, studying her mouth. She nodded 'no,' and smiled, embarrassed and hopeful. "Hmm, it's a remarkable experience."

I sensed this was the entry stage for the next level. There were three levels of encounters: PG, PG13, R-rated and X-rated. A Swedish massage would be a PG entry point, and having it in a hotel allowed... well... anything else.

"Are you good at giving one, John?" I queried, his attention slowly shifting to me.

"Mel?" John asked, ignoring my question.

"Oh! Yes," Mel said, a little surprised at the offer, John's question and her response. "John, that sounds lovely."

"Very well," John said; we were well past finishing our meals. "Are you staying here at the hotel?" He asked directly. I nodded yes, then looked at Mel with her shy smile and lowered eyes and gave him our room number.

John picked up the checks as soon as they were set down, citing

"'Educators are real heroes.' It's my treat. Meet you in your room in 30 minutes. Mel, if you could, please be on the bed, face down, covered with a towel." He was gone, and in my head, the image of Mel naked with a very masculine, fit man standing over her had my cock hard, pulsing with excitement.

I looked across at Mel, staring off where he left, the wine and the moment intoxicating. "So we're doing this?" Mel asked, not asking, then correcting herself. "Wait, no. I mean, we're doing this." Her hand pushed her hair behind one ear, down her neck and through her cleavage to her forearm. She rubbed herself on the arm, imagining all the things that could be. I stood up, and she followed, clasping my hand and leaning into my body as we left for the elevator.

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A bottle of Dom Perignon was on the dresser with a note that read: "Enjoy your well-deserved night. Ashlyn, Donnovan, LLC."

Mel was slightly surprised at the bottle and the note's signature and raised an eyebrow indicating she had a hint of what was going on. She undressed as I uncorked the bottle, laying her things down on the overnight bag Ashlyn had brought from the car. I poured a glass for each of us and got a third out for John.

Mel was beautiful as she stood naked in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting her hair. She ran her hand down her flat stomach, over her breasts and hard nipples, entirely in the moment, not worrying about the past or the future.

"Stunning," I said, moving to her, undoing my tie while kissing her hard on the mouth, my hands running over her sides and waist. "You'd better lie down; he'll be here any minute."

She smiled and pressed her index finger across my lips. She leaned forward and gently bit my lower lip. Holding it for a moment playfully, she covered my entire mouth with hers and inserted her tongue hard and fast. In an instant, she broke free, giggling while bounding to the bed, breasts bouncing in the half-light. I noticed the room was equipped with dimmers, and the light emanated from behind the molding in a very soft and romantic way.

The knock on the door was light. Mel had been sitting up, sipping champagne. She shifted down, pressing her breasts to the cool fabric of the bed while I draped the towel from her neck to her ankles. I moved swiftly and answered the door to John, who had changed from his suit into a polo shirt and slacks. His body was firm and tight and had benefited from years of good treatment

"She's ready," I said, stepping aside with my arm extended to usher him towards my wife. He walked in, quickly surveyed the room, turned the lighting up a small amount, and scanned the corners. I moved the corner chair to the foot of the king bed where Mel was lying. He gestured me to the chair, and I reached for the champagne glass and bottle. I pointed to his filled glass, and he gladly took it in his large hand, sipping, looking around, then down at Mel. I had changed into gym shorts and a t-shirt, so I was comfortable and ready for anything he directed me to do.

"Turn off the bathroom lights, Donnie," he said, and I obeyed. John adjusted the lights again when I returned from the bathroom and stood above her, warming his hands. It was a big room with one king-sized bed in the middle and space on each side of the bed with sitting areas.

He talked to us in a low, soft tone. "I have blended the methods of a traditional Swedish massage and my love for music by touching the human body," John said, his hands warming the oil. I imagined Mel getting moist, waiting for his touch. "I will coach you on how to respond, and the corresponding sounds will make music."

His voice was soothing, calming and, above all, seductive. Mel smiled and turned her face towards him, adjusting her shoulders, ready for this. We had just moved from PG to the PG-13 stage of the evening, my cock hardening under the athletic shorts.

"Your nerves are long violin strings, an instrument I have mastered and played in front of thousands of people. My hands are providing pressure and tension on the neck, and as a bow across them," John continued placing his hands on her bare shoulders. "When I apply tension, your body releases inner tension, so with the appropriate level breath, say 'ohhhhhh.'"

His fingers pressed into her shoulders and rubbed down across the scapula and back. Mel softly breathed, "Ohhhhhh."

"Very good. Now, increase the breath and sound as my fingers increase tension," John instructed, repeating this action several times, getting a similar response. He pressed into her shoulders with half his weight, repeating the movement, eliciting a louder "OHHhhhhhh," from Mel.

"Very, very good, sweetness," he said, calling her a pet name and releasing the pressure on her flesh. He gently grasped the top edges of the towel and slid it down to just above her waist. "Light strokes, or the after-effects of deep pressure, can yield a soothing release," John said, warming more oil in his hands. "When something is soothing, respond 'mmmmmmm.'"

"MmmmmmmMMMM," Mel replied almost immediately while John continued applying long slow strokes, her volume varying to the slight differences in pressure. "MMmmmmmmm."

"Very good. Very, very good," John said excitedly, her purr responding to the pressure from his hands on her back. John was tuning his instrument, matching sounds with pressure, practicing, and playing her body. "You are doing so well, sweetness."

"Mmmmmm, Ohhhh, OHHHHhhhh, Mmmmmm," Mel breathed as John alternated pressure between his fingers and his hands.

John released contact with her back and climbed onto the bed straddling her legs and sitting back, his tall body rising above her on the bed. His waist was above her knees, and he sat on the back of her thighs, the towel separating her naked body from him. John moved his open palms above her waist to the small of her back. Pressing down, he increased the weight through his arms, deeper and deeper.

"Ohhgmmpf," Mel blurted, confused about how to respond to John's deep tissue massage; it sounded almost painful.

"Mel, when pressure or touch becomes intense, please respond with "Ahhhhhhh," John said, giving her the proper coaching. "Vary the depth and breadth of the sound to what you feel."

"Ahhhh," Mel said, and then as he pushed more forcefully, "AHhhhhhhhhhh, AHHhhh, AHHHHHHHH!"

There was a wet spot on my shorts from my raging hard-on. I was aroused by watching John's intense warm-up on Mel. She was his student and instrument, focused and responding appropriately to his instructions, filling the room with sensual vibrations set off by a man we had just met.

John's instrument, my wife, was now tuned, his hands manipulating touch to sound from her throat and lungs. He kept contact, varying the pressure, tension and soothing touch, like running scales on a piano. John continued to move up and back from her shoulders to hips, just above the crack of her cheeks.

"Mmmmmm, Mmmmmmm, Ohhhhhhhhhhh, AHhhhhhHHh, Ohhhhh, Mmmmmm," Mel voiced in synchronization with the gentle, rhythmic pressure. John leaned hard into her shoulders. "AHHHHhhhhhh."

Each stroke slowly moved the towel below her arse, causing the orbs of flesh to appear from underneath. My cock was pulsing, and any pressure would have sent a stream of cum into the air.

John quickly jumped off the bed, grabbed the oil and, applying it to his hands, rubbed them together to warm it. Mel got up on her elbows, and in the dim light, I could see her breasts with her hardened nipples. She raised her head and shifted her hips, the towel sliding off her. John stood tall at the foot of the bed, looking down at her body, ready for him as her hair fell around her face. His hands were open, and he lowered them to her shoulders, moving down to the small of her back.

"Ahhhhhhh, AhhHHHHHH, Ohhhhhhh!" Mel exclaimed, his palms burying into her, down her back, and returning. John rose on his fingers and lightly brushed them back and forth on the surface of her flesh, her head dropping to the bed again, collapsing on her folded arms, "MMMmmm, MMmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm!"

John pressed with less force, using his fingertips and light palm movement. "Ohhhhh, OHHHHhhhh, ohhhh, ohhh, OHHhhhhh!" Mel moaned after his fingers pushed deep into both rear cheeks, John's first touch below the waist, alternately applying and removing pressure.

He stayed there creating pressure, releasing, creating, releasing. Fingers so close to her tiny hole, her voluptuous cunt lips, excited from the touch of another man, her husband there to enjoy the symphony play. John leaned over her body, her head close to his crotch, and pulled his hands back across his instrument—her body—and it sang.

"Mmmmmmm, OHHHhhhh, Ohhhhhhh, Mmmmmmmm," Mel matched his pressure with her response, singing and vibrating, expressing her delight in the sensations from his touch.

John stopped, stood beside her briefly, then moved behind her. Mel parted her legs when he knelt between her knees, and the towel hit the floor. She peeked over one shoulder as the fully dressed man rose behind her wet ready pussy. She quivered at the thought of what would happen next, waiting to respond to his touch. He reached straight down and held her ankles, hands open, stretching across layers of skin. John's hands moved to the calf, behind the knee and then to the back of her thighs, playing the hamstring.

"Mmmmmm, OHHHHhhhh, ohhhhh, ohhhhh," the tension released, and he slid back to her ankles, pressing in with his fingers. "Mmmmmmm, OHHHHhhh, Ohhhhhhhh."

John leaned in, his hands still running imaginary musical scales over her flesh, finding nerves, seeing how she would respond, getting to know her body and touchpoints. He spoke to her softly.

"Mel, add some tone, fill your lungs with melody and song," Mel's head turned to see him still on her elbows, her breasts dangling. She looked for him, her voice still uttering responses, now filling with volume.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm," Mel sighed in calm enjoyment without him touching her skin. "OhhhhhHHhh, MmmMMMmmm, Ohhhhhh, Mmmmmmmm."

John reached down, pulled his shirt off in one movement, and tossed it to the floor. His chiseled frame and strong arms were silhouetted by the backlight in the room's molding. John swung his legs up and off the bed, the 'V' shape of his abs highlighted. He found the oil bottle and warmed the contents in his hands. I was sure he could see Mel's right breast, her head still turned to him, her eyes watching John intently, waiting for the next touch.

"AHhhhhhh, Ahhhhhoohhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmm," she moaned, her strong singing ability filling the room with quality music combining sounds with the tone. John's hands pressed into her lower back, fingers kneading deep into her flesh across the short distance between her torso and back.

"OHHhhhhhhhhhhmmmmm, AHhhhhooohhhhhmmmmmmm, OHHhhhhmmmmmm," again and again she breathed, still on her elbows, head down.

"Sing it, sweetness, sing the vowels," John asked, his head lowered to her ear, close enough to kiss if she would turn her head. There was a breathy moan, an expression of satisfaction, combined with her sultry, trained voice, weaving together to produce a heavenly, wild, sexy tone.

"Ohhmmmm, Amhmmmm, OHhhhmmmmmm, AHhhhnnnnhhh," Mel sang, John's hands running both deep and consistent, her body now yearning for the pressure.

John suddenly looked up at me, squeezing his palms into her side closest to him.