Continued:

Then it was finally George’s turn, pausing only a moment to insist she roll onto her back, and he opened her legs anxiously before he took his penis in his right hand and guided himself in. He was a construction worker on the job, wanting to drill her violently, and perhaps from other games he knew what would get her off. I watched her second orgasm build in her eyes, brimming with cathartic tears. I watched George come with a long groan, the way his middle-aged buttocks tensed with surprisingly youthful vigour. I was past my embarrassment. It made me wet, watching her taken like that by multiple partners. I was barely conscious of how I had begun anxiously touching myself through a fold of my skirt.

Me with my breasts out and my nipples hard, my halter top long gone, with only a skirt on and no panties. And then Ayako. Completely, exquisitely nude. Her hand down there under my skirt. Fondling me, making me gasp and lean against her. I didn’t mind at all. Her little body could be so warm, and tonight she tasted like cherries. Her clever little hands, one of them down below, one of them cupping my tit, squeezing and circling, squeezing and circling in a rhythm she knew drove me wild. Her small white teeth nibbled my ear lobe.

I had the uncomfortable mild fear that the men would tire of Janet and turn to Ayako or me and expect us to join in. There was something vaguely unpleasant in the idea of becoming contestant number two for this gang of stud bulls tonight. It was too raw, all because of Janet’s open need. And yet I was turned on by the spectacle, couldn’t tear myself away. They all knew Ayako had won her F.O.D. with me so let them think I’m a bi case. And I didn’t really know how much was an act for the others’ benefit any more.

George, quietly lying back after his ride with Janet, turned to watch us. He was getting a fresh new hard-on from Ayako’s pale fingers on my dark pussy.

He went over to the panting Janet and gave it to her all over again.

She came twice from Giradeau’s second turn. She played with her clit to get off while Cahill had another go. He never lasted very long.

By that time, I had turned away, kissing Ayako while all her fingers were inside me, and with my back to the group, only she knew I was stifling a whimper over my own climax.

I leaned against the poker table exhausted, and then I excused myself, glancing over my shoulder to see what was starting to happen in my absence. George Westlake wanted to fuck Ayako. He seemed to always be trying to make it with exotic beauties.

She laughed in his face and said something like ‘Earn it, George!’

Perhaps meaning the game. And then she turned to Cahill and let him suck on her middle finger, knowing that it had been inside me.

Then it all got too much, as if the group lust in the room manufactured a phoney dry-ice fog that merely blocked you from glimpsing the smallness of all our humanity. All the rampant fucking was simultaneously glorious and vulgar. I stopped enjoying myself. I couldn’t enjoy myself any more here. It’s not that I had found my modesty again, sure as hell not any prudery—I wanted one-on-one back. Whatever this spectacle was, you couldn’t call anything about it intimate. I ducked into a side room of the suite, plopped myself down on a love seat and was surprised to see violet and purple flashes and spots before my eyes. Dizzy. I shook it off, blinked once and twice, and there was Ayako standing in front of me.

‘Do you want to come home with me tonight?’ she asked.

‘I want to,’ I answered. ‘But…’

I thought of the documents I had swiped from her apartment, how they could be a clue to something sinister or could mean nothing at all.

© Lisa Lawrence
Read a sample chapter