Amanda's Young Men (24 page)

‘You and he at first, obviously, as you’re the gift, and then we’ll just see what happens.’ Amanda realised she hadn’t considered how she’d manage to ‘switch’ with a dominant man and a submissive woman as playmates. Oh well. She rushed on. ‘He has amazing staying power. Don’t be fooled by his manner at work, outside work he’s dominant,
very
dominant, and extremely fond of spanking pretty little girls’ bare bottoms.’

Nola smiled. ‘
My
sort of man, Ms Amanda.’

‘I wouldn’t be giving you to him if he wasn’t.’

It was Amanda’s turn to do her face. She used gold and green on her eyes and wet cherry on her lips for an effect that was a little bit over the top, even for evening wear, but nowhere near as theatrical as Nola’s.

Amanda still hadn’t decided what she’d wear. If she dressed dominant, that would be in conflict with her submissive relationship with Trevor. If she dressed sub, it wouldn’t fit her relationship with Nola. She certainly couldn’t seem to be trying
to
compete with the girl. Then again, she just as certainly didn’t want to fade into the background. Not dom, not sub, not total slut and yet not blandly vanilla. Hmm!

Hadn’t she recently read an article somewhere,
Cosmo
, most likely, about how to dress to go straight from the office to a hot date? The writer had recommended layers, worn in such a way that removing them one at a time could take a girl from daytime demure to ‘let’s go dancing’ and all the way to downright daring, if she so desired. Amanda had those high-slit skirts that did something similar for her, but both Trevor and Nola were familiar with those by now.

Well, begin at the beginning. In this case, that would be with what went next to her skin. Amanda started searching the oversized chest of drawers that she used exclusively for her sexiest underwear.

One good thing about being rid of Roger, all the erotic play-wear that she’d accumulated over years of trying to keep her marriage exciting was as good as brand new again. None of her new lovers, young or mature, male or female, had seen her in any of it, apart from that one fishnet outfit she’d worn for Trevor.

The middle drawer yielded a waspie that she hadn’t worn in ages. Seeing it again, she realised why Roger had bought it for her. It was very restrictive even though it only covered her from immediately below her breasts to just above her navel. She hadn’t taken it as a subtle hint that he’d like to explore bondage. His loss! He should have been more explicit.

The waspie had wide vertical stripes that alternated golden satin and green velvet, which went very well with her makeup. Amanda’s waist was still trim. Her hips and bust were both bountiful, so that, when that waspie was cinched tightly enough to restrict her breathing, it gave her a dramatic hourglass
figure
that was emphasised by the way the stripes narrowed and widened. That would be a good start.

‘Nola,’ Amanda said, ‘come help me get into this.’

Nola oohed and aahed. She tugged at the laces with so much enthusiasm that Amanda’s waist was whittled down to narrower than it was when she was twenty. The constricting whalebone stays made it impossible for her to bend, from her waist up, but left her hips free to sway and wiggle.

‘Ms Amanda,’ Nola declared, ‘any man who sees you in that is likely to cream in his jeans before he even touches you.’

‘Thank you. We’ll have to see to it that Trevor doesn’t see me like this until his pants are off, then, won’t we?’

Nola giggled. ‘Leave that to me, Ms Amanda. I’ll have his pants off him in –’

‘When he wants them off,’ Amanda interrupted, reminding Nola of her submissive role.

‘Sorry, Ms Amanda. I got carried away.’

‘That’s OK. Now come and help me decide what to cover this up with.’

‘Seems a shame to cover it at all, Ms Amanda. Can’t you find a way to let it show?’

Amanda thought for a moment. ‘You know, Nola, that’s a very good idea. I might just be able to do that.’ She led Nola into her walk-in closet.

‘Way cool!’ the girl exclaimed. ‘Sorry. It’s just that you’ve got so many nice things.’

‘One day I’ll have you over for a “girl’s day” and you can try some of my outfits on,’ Amanda promised, ‘but for now …’ She pulled out a padded hanger with a green velvet military-style jacket. It wasn’t a perfect match for the green in her waspie, but close enough. Amanda chose it because the jacket was very short, just long enough to overlap the top of her waspie by a couple of inches. It had a high stiff collar and long fitted sleeves
and
was fastened with a series of six green plaited silk frogs. Doing it up compressed her breasts some, but not uncomfortably so.

‘Now for the matching velvet skirt that came with this jacket.’ It was fully circular and meant to be mid-calf length. It came with a matching suede belt. In a few minutes, Amanda had punched extra holes and eased a couple of seams, so that she was able to buckle the belt very low around her waist, just a fraction of an inch above the lower edge of her waspie, and let the skirt hang almost to her ankles. The finishing touches were golden mesh stay-up stockings and a pair of strappy gold sandals with four-inch pencil heels.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Nola said with a sigh. ‘So elegant. So classy. I really envy you your lovely figure, Ms Amanda.’

‘Thanks, but you don’t have to be jealous. You have a delightful shape.’

‘It’s OK, but …’ She sketched an hourglass in the air with her hands. ‘That’s what real men like best.’

‘Well, I think you have a delicious little body,’ Amanda said. ‘And a lovely face to go with it.’

The women swayed closer. Amanda’s fingertips rested on Nola’s bare hips. Their lips parted as the doorbell downstairs rang.

‘That’ll be the caterers,’ Amanda explained. ‘There are pink pom-pom mules beside my bed. They should fit you. Put them on and come on down once the delivery men have gone.’

She went down and supervised, as men in chef’s whites brought in a bowl of crushed ice with two dozen oysters on the half shell and then a dish of Beluga caviar and half a dozen platters of shrimp and scampi that were prepared in as many ways. There was a salver of cracked crab claws and another of split lobster tails and four kinds of bread plus three ready-dressed salads, a selection of dipping sauces, a platter of citrus
slices
on a bed of parsley and a pyramid of
escargots en brioche
. Trevor had once mentioned that the best thing about going to the coast was the shellfish. That was the sort of thing that Amanda prided herself on remembering.

Damn! What if he’d meant plain old cockles and whelks? Well, it was too late to do anything about it if he had. The escargots, which weren’t strictly speaking shellfish, would have to substitute for whelks. A snail is a snail is a snail, right?

When Amanda had tipped the caterers and let them out, Nola came downstairs. The girl gaped and gushed as Amanda set up the drinks on a trolley, drew a couple of corks and stripped the foil and wire from the neck of a bottle of champagne. Knowing that Trevor was a wine enthusiast, she’d taken special care in her selections.

‘When do I come in?’ Nola asked. ‘Am I to be here when he arrives, or jump out at some point, or what?’

‘I didn’t think to get a cake for you to jump out of,’ Amanda teased.

‘That’s OK,’ said Nola, taking her mistress seriously. ‘I’d get all mucky with the icing.’

‘Good thinking,’ said Amanda. She suppressed an urge to laugh. Nola was already fading into that oh-so-literal state that made submission a delight to experience or to observe. ‘I think we’ll do it like this. We’ll put this trolley in the kitchen and you can wheel it out when I call for it. You can serve us and then …’ Amanda looked around the room. ‘Right!’ She took an oversized decorative crimson and gold satin cushion from the couch and dropped it on the floor beside the chair that Trevor would be sitting on.

‘Once you’ve served us our drinks, you can sit here. He’ll be able to feed you titbits if he wants to, and touch you, which he’s bound to want to. When we call for refills for our glasses,
you
can show off how graceful you can be as you get up and down, right?’

‘Lovely! You think of everything, Ms Amanda. This is going to be such fun!’

‘I wouldn’t eat too much,’ Amanda advised. ‘He has hard thighs. You are likely going to be laid across them on your tummy at some point.’

‘Yeah!’ Nola stuck her bare bottom out sideways and gave it slap. ‘I’ll like that!’

Amanda lit the butter warmers. The doorbell sounded.

‘That’s him. Scat – kitchen!’

Amanda had asked Trevor to come casually dressed. He was in neatly pressed jeans and a white dress shirt with the sleeves folded back. He hugged her and then held her away from himself to admire her outfit. ‘I’m impressed, but is this what you meant when you said casual?’

‘I meant
you
casual, not me. This is to pay you back for your gallantry.’

‘I’m paid in full by just one look at you, Amanda.’

‘Flatterer! Well, you might think so, but I beg to differ. There are more treats to come.’ She turned to lead him into the dining room.

‘You’ve recovered, emotionally, from what you went through at Sophie’s house?’ he asked.

In answer, she gave her hips an exaggerated swing for him.

‘It looks like you have,’ he muttered.

When he saw the spread that had been prepared for him, he looked stunned. ‘Just how many people are coming to this party?’

‘I’m not expecting any more guests tonight. You don’t have to eat it all you know, and I’ll be eating, too. Take a seat and help yourself, Trevor.’

He sat and reached for a wineglass before scanning the table and seeing no bottles. His raised eyebrow asked Amanda a question.

‘Oh – right!’ she said. ‘Drinks.’ In the direction of the kitchen, she called, ‘Pinkie! Drinkies!’

Simpering, Nola wheeled the cart out.

Trevor whistled. ‘What wonderful service, and so nicely presented.’

Amanda feigned taking his reaction for granted and said, ‘I thought Mumm’s Carte Classique with the oysters, and a simple white Burgundy, a Cote de Beaune, to follow.’ She held her breath for his reaction.

‘Excellent choices!’

‘I have a bottle of Chopin potato vodka in the freezer, if you’d prefer it?’

‘Nice thought, but much later, perhaps – after …’

‘Yes, “after” would be better,’ Amanda agreed. Neither had to specify after
what
.

Trevor took the magnum of champagne from its ice bucket and eased the cork out with a steady twist of his wrist so that its pop was soft and no wine was lost. Nola held out two flutes for him to pour into. He topped them up but, when she turned to take Amanda’s glass to her, his finger on her bare hip stopped her.

‘Head back,’ he told her.

When she’d tilted her head, he put the magnum to her lips. ‘Don’t swallow.’ He poured, filling her mouth until the sparkling wine overflowed her lips. ‘Hold it.’ His tongue lapped the spillage from between her virginal little breasts. ‘Now take what’s in your mouth, and what’s in the glass, to Ms Amanda.’

Nola walked around the table with her head up, to Amanda, who turned her face towards the ceiling. Nola bent
over
, carefully and slowly, and let champagne trickle from between her lips into Amanda’s waiting mouth.

‘Nice,’ Amanda commented, when she’d swallowed.

Nola returned to Trevor’s side and sank on to her cushion with her back to him and her nape resting on his upper leg. She arched and stretched to rest the back of her head on top of his thigh and gazed big-eyed straight upwards at him. Crafty slut! What man could resist?

Amanda shifted her chair so that she could see better.

Trevor’s big thumb rubbed behind Nola’s ear. His powerful fingers curled over her throat. Amanda imagined what that subtle threat felt like. She became aware of the feel of the fabric of her skirt, where she sat on it, and wriggled. Trevor’s index finger tapped on Nola’s lips. They parted and closed on its tip. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked. Amanda imagined that the tip of Nola’s tongue was doing its best to tease Trevor’s finger.

Amanda tilted an oyster and let its slippery meat slide over her tongue to her throat. Trevor tipped an oyster between Nola’s parted lips. The girl made an erotic exhibition out of savouring it. She rubbed the back of her neck on his leg, likely feeling for where his cock lay.

Amanda grinned. Trevor, she’d noted, ‘dressed left’. The leg that Nola’s neck was pressing against was his right.

Trevor ate, and fed Nola. He put morsels of scampi and shrimp between her lips and once bent over her to drop an oyster from his mouth into hers. His big hand split a lobster tail’s shell. Trevor held the meat that he’d extracted all in one piece over a plate while he poured melted butter over it. When he touched the slippery six-inch length of white lobster flesh to Nola’s lips, she sucked it in, whole, slowly, until it disappeared, and pushed it up and out again, still in one piece. Trevor grinned. Nola sucked in, and pushed out, fellating the treat as if it was a cock.

Trevor snuffed the candle under a container of melted butter. He waited a few seconds before testing its temperature with one thick finger. Seeming satisfied, he dripped melted butter on to first one of Nola’s nipples, then on to the other. She squealed as if it hurt but her act fooled neither of her spectators.

Trevor rolled an oily nub between finger and thumb. Nola writhed, overdoing it, Amanda thought.

Had Trevor forgotten she was even there?

But he looked across the table at her and suggested, ‘Isn’t that jacket just a little too warm?’

Amanda was about to tell him it wasn’t when she caught the glint in his eye. Of course! He wasn’t dominating her overtly, because of Nola, but that question had really been a command. ‘I could undo it,’ she offered.

He nodded.

With deliberate slowness, Amanda unhooked one frog, then the next, all the time being watched intently by Trevor. As each plait of silk was released, her confined and compressed breasts expanded. Her jacket gradually parted. Each frog she unhooked exposed deeper and wider cleavage until her jacket finally fell completely open. Her nipples weren’t quite exposed, so Amanda reached for a bottle of Burgundy, revealing her left breast in all its plump pouty-tipped beauty for a few seconds.