The Dream Pills - chapters three and four
three: intimate negotiations
The streets of the city were thronged with people as Sarah emerged from her home and walked briskly towards her appointment. Tramcars trundled past along gritty iron rails, stallholders bled every last penny they could from tourists and locals, and personal steam carriages hissed and spat, honking their horns as they chugged through the weaving tide of people.
The working day was in full swing. Already the skies were beginning to fog overhead as the tall chimneys poured smoke and steam into the air, new clouds masking the afternoon sunshine.
Sarah was running late. She had been tempted to hop onto an omnibus to save time, but her local bus had broken down on the corner of Bow Street, causing a long tailback and spewing out a horde of disgruntled passengers. Steam had poured copiously from the back of the bus, and a group of engineers were now surrounding the machine, attemptng to work out what was wrong with the engine and getting nowhere fast.
Sarah didn't have any time to spare. She set off determinedly on foot along Neal Street, heading towards the British Museum, and beyond it to Russell Square Gardens.
Ornithopters and monoplanes buzzed like busy insects overhead. Down on ground level, the tourists were already making their presence felt, filling the pavements and crowding the carriages, loitering at market stalls. Most were heading in the direction of the Museum, pouring through the huge black iron gates as Sarah strolled briskly past them, making her way up Montague Street and across the large open garden square towards the Hotel.
The Russell Hotel proudly dominated Russell Square. The russet brick towers of the façade gleamed in the dappled sunlight, emerging with gothic splendour from behind the trees surrounding the square. The building was framed by immense brickwork chimneys on either side, spouting huge clouds of steam into the early afternoon skies.
Sarah had wandered through Russell Square Gardens many times, enjoying the peace and quiet away from the rush of the streets, but she had never really paid much attention to the Hotel. Walking across the Square towards it, she could see how impressive the building really was: a wedding cake confectionery of towers and balconies, the structure grand and stately and defiantly Victorian in its architecture. A flight of stone steps led her up to the front door of the hotel, and she passed through into the dark, wood panelled interior.
The décor inside was plush and exquisitely refined. Claude Benoit obviously liked the finer things in life. She hoped that she would be just as much to his liking. The report on Benoit made it clear that he appreciated the company of a pretty girl.
Sarah slipped out of her coat, passed it to a porter and adjusted her dress. Although this was a lunchtime engagement, she had deliberately worn her most glamorous evening outfit: a silk and velvet extravaganza that fell just below her knee, with an enticing slit along the outside of her thigh to show off her expensive black stockings. There was also a generous amount of cleavage on show.
“What do you think?” she said, looking at the porter and raising an eyebrow, giving him a twirl in her dress. “Does this look attractive to you or just slutty? If it looks slutty I'm in big trouble.”
The porter smiled, taking her in and admiring the view. “Looks just fine to me, ma'am,” he said. “I'm sure your gentleman friend will like it too.”
“Exactly what I wanted to hear,” she said, giving him a wink and a cheeky wiggle of her bum. She glanced in a mirror, gave her hair a quick tease to ensure that it was in shape, took a deep breath and stepped into the bar.
Jones was already there, sat in a quiet corner of the bar, looking cool, calm and quite impossibly handsome. He was accompanied by a saturnine older man sporting a dark Van Dyke beard, wearing a fresh red rose in his lapel. Both of the gentlemen stood to greet her. Jones smiled at her warmly, and the second man, whom Sarah guessed to be Claude Benoit, offered her a charming grin.
“Monsieur Benoit,” Jones began, “allow me to introduce to you the finest new agent in The Organisation. This is Sarah Chance, Steam Agent par excellence.”
“Enchanté, madame,” Claude purred, “it's a pleasure to finally meet you.” He took her hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing it gently. Sarah blushed, trying not to giggle at this curious combination of formality and intimacy, not at all accustomed to such behaviour.
“And you too, Monsieur. I understand that you have worked with Jones before?” She took a seat at their table, making herself comfortable.
“I have indeed,” he smiled. “though he hadn't mentioned before that he kept such attractive company. I wish he'd introduced us much sooner.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Monsieur.” Sarah smiled politely, taking the moment to look him over. He was dressed almost entirely in black, and he had the softest of French accents over his perfect, if slightly halting, English diction. He was in his early fifties, maybe a little too old for Sarah's taste, but he looked good on it. His accent gave his speech a curious, almost eccentric rhythm.
“Your journey was without incident?” he asked, tracing a fingertip around the rim of his wine glass. “I find London to be a devil of a place to travel. Always so busy.”
“I decided to walk,” she replied. “It seemed a shame not to enjoy the sunshine.”
“And an even greater shame not to be seen in such an exquisite dress,” said Claude, lingering momentarily on her curves. Sarah wasn't sure whether to be flattered or whether to cringe – the Frenchman had a manner about him that rendered his clumsy flirtation almost charming
“You're making me blush, Monsieur Benoit,” she said. “The French are clearly as forward as I had been told.” She gave him a wry, disarming smile.
“A good looking woman should always be appreciated,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I'm very much looking forward to doing business with you, Ms Chance. Please excuse me for a moment while I order us some fresh wine, you're without a glass. Waiter!”
Sarah glanced towards Jones as the waiter approached with a fresh bottle of wine. Jones returned her glance and smiled, holding her gaze for a moment or two as the wine was poured. Sarah found herself blushing, not entirely sure why, and looked away from him, suddenly feeling curiously shy.
With the wine poured, finally the conversation began to steer towards the matter at hand.
“If you'll forgive me for leaping straight into business,” said Sarah, “I understand you may have some information for us that would prove worthwhile, Monsieur Benoit.”
“Please,” he replied, his French accent instantly beguiling, “I insist that you call me Claude, Ms Chance. Formality can be such a nuisance.”
“And you can call me Sarah,” she responded politely.
“Sarah it is. And you're right, of course. Business before pleasure is the way of the world, though it's always so much more preferable when the two can be combined, don't you think?” He gave her another of his appealing little smiles and she felt herself shiver in response. She decided to throw a little flirtation back at him, if only to help ease them into the deal.
“I agree entirely,” she said, “It's important to enjoy your job, I think.”
“Quite so,” he laughed, “Quite so. I hope I can be of some help in that respect.”
Jones took a sip of his wine, raising his eyebrow at Benoit. “If you two have quite finished congratulating each other?” He looked towards Sarah and pursed his lips. “You'll have to forgive Claude, he's like this whenever a pretty girl shows up. I'm thinking of getting him neutered.”
Claude laughed, refilling Jones's wine glass. “You're right, my friend, my apologies. I'm getting far too distracted! To business it is.”
Jones smiled at him and took a sip of his wine. “We're certainly very interested in what you have to offer, Claude. We were told that it was of the highest importance. You know how much we value the relationship between the British and the French Service. We're eager to assist you in any way that we can. You scratch our backs and we'll scratch yours. You know the way it works.”
Jones flicked his hair back from his forehead. Sarah glanced towards him, catching the gesture and enjoying it. There was something about those nervous little movements of his that absolutely appealed to her.
“That's most generous of you, Jones. but in this instance I hope it is we who can help you.” Claude paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I have been dealing personally with a case in Paris which has now extended beyond local territories and into your city. I think that together we can bring the case to a satisfactory conclusion.”
“Do tell us more,” said Sarah, “we'd be delighted to help in any way that we can.”
Claude leaned back into the bench and took another sip of his wine, choosing his words with care.
“I've been working under cover for a couple of months, keeping tabs on a gentleman who has been troubling us in Paris for the past year. The gentleman's name is Oswald Kruger. I doubt you'll have heard of him, he's been strictly small time until recently: a little bit of drug dealing and some time in jail for possession. In recent months he's been making a name for himself with a new product he's introduced on the street. He calls it the Dream Pill.”
“I've heard rumours about this,” said Sarah. “Supposedly it's the latest new drug for the Parisian cognoscenti. Is it a narcotic of some kind?”
“Not so far as we have been able to ascertain. The pill itself doesn't seem addictive and it has no particularly harmful ingredients, so at the moment we have no real reason to declare it illegal. Consequently, we've been laying low, watching the progress of the drug on the open market. Its price is very high, available only to those who can easily afford it. From my own undercover observations, however, I have reason to believe that the drug is very dangerous indeed.”
“In what way do you think it's dangerous?” Sarah leaned forward, aware that the movement displayed her cleavage generously. Even when discussing business, Claude's French accent melted her. His tendency to use a hundred words where five would suffice was utterly charming.
“Imagine a pill that gives you everything you ever wanted,” he began, his accent curling around the words. “A pill with which any fantasy can be made to seem real. A pill with which you can consciously control your dreams to bring you more pleasure than you've ever had before. Think about it: a rainy day can become the most glorious summer sunshine; a drab afternoon alone can be replaced by the company of whomever you wish. All you ever wanted can become available to you for as long as the dream lasts, with no repercussions and no addiction, simply the pleasure of whatever fantasy you desire. This is what Mister Kruger and his operatives are promising with the Dream Pill - active lucid dreaming.”
“And have you tried this pill yourself? Does it do what he claims?” Sarah was already intrigued.
“Yes, I have. I can ascertain that it does provide everything they say. The pill makes the world appear to be a wonderful place, Ms Chance, alive with beauty and sensation. Combined with other activities it serves to intensify them. Sexually, therefore, it's a complete revelation. All one need do is to imagine oneself having sex with whomever you wish and the Pill will make that wish appear to be a reality. Regardless of whether you want another woman, another man, or perhaps both, whatever your predilection or tastes the pill will respond to your imagination and provide them for you as if it were reality. It's rather exquisite.”
“There's a drawback to this, I'm guessing. There always is.” Jones took a sip from his wine, equally engaged in the conversation and listening patiently.
“The fundamental drawback is that it's essentially self-hypnosis.” Claude swept his fingers through his hair and took another sip of his wine. “The pill releases the power of the imagination and allows you to experience whatever it is you choose to think about, but at the same time it also makes the user extremely suggestible. Consequently, once you've taken one of these pills you may find yourself not only experiencing the things you want to feel, you can also be very easily influenced by whoever might be with you, feeling what they want you to feel. This has been advertised as a boon: the idea that a person alongside you can tell you a story, and you'll experience that story as though it were real. But of course there's a dark side to this.”
Claude leaned forward, looking Sarah in the eye. “Let's say, for the sake of argument, that you wanted to rob a bank. All you'd need to do would be to insert a Dream Pill into a cashier's drink, make a few subtle suggestions, and the cashier will happily supply you with as much money as you want. You'd simply need to convince them that they're perhaps tidying papers in their room and that you're assisting. Before you know it the cashier will have happily handed over thousands of pounds to you without ever realising that they'd done so. It's not a Dream Pill, my friends, it's a hypnosis pill. My belief is that Kruger is only too familiar with the nature of this drug and is using it to get what he wants, whenever he wants it.”
“And you're saying that Kruger has brought this drug over to our shores?” Sarah was concerned. A wide range of narcotics were already easily available on the streets, but this particular drug sounded far more dangerous. It was clearly an open opportunity for rogues such as Kruger to take whatever they wanted, whether it be money, sex or power.
“He has established a warehouse base in Soho. He arrived just this week with his aides. The French Service has been making his life very difficult in Paris, so we understand that he now intends to bring his operation over to London and begin imminent distribution of the drugs amongst parties he intends to hold here in the capital. We do, however, have a mole in his organisation who could be a great deal of help to you.”
“You have somebody working undercover with his group?”
“We do indeed.” Claude smiled and took another sip of his wine. “I, myself, am the mole in his group. The French Service didn't have the time to secure permission from your Organisation to deal with Kruger in our own way once he had landed on your soil. Consequently, I had no option but to maintain my cover with his group and accompany them here to London, in the hope of gaining your assistance upon my arrival. Kruger already knows about this meeting with you. Should the meeting prove successful, my aim is to introduce you to him as English colleagues of mine, to help with the distribution of his products throughout the height of London society.”
Sarah took a careful sip of her wine and placed the glass back on the table. “We appreciate that you brought all of this to our attention, Monsieur Benoit. I can assure you that Kruger will be stopped in his tracks. But you're in London now. The Organisation will want to take the lead on this case. You'll be working for us. Is this acceptable to you?”
“I guessed as much,” Claude replied, guarded in his response but still smiling charmingly. “The Service believe this to be a French case that we merely seek to conclude. It took me some time to ingratiate myself into Kruger's company and to reach the level of trust with which I'm currently held in his group.”
“I understand that, Monsieur Benoit,” Sarah continued, “but you're on British soil now, and I'm afraid we can't allow the French to run rampant in London without The Organisation taking control of events. We're as keen as you are to hasten Kruger's downfall, I'm sure. Perhaps we can come to some kind of deal over this which will satisfy you and your superiors?”
Claude laughed and clapped his hands together with unrestrained enthusiasm. “And this is where we finally reach the stage in which business and pleasure can combine delightfully. These are always my favourite part of such negotiations, don't you agree, Ms Chance?”
Sarah gave him a curious look, not entirely sure what Claude was referring to. “If you say so, Claude. Was there something you were hoping to suggest, so that we can reach one of your French ententes-cordiales?”
“Ha! Then you do indeed understand me, Sarah, as I hoped you would. Should we all go upstairs, do you think?”
Sarah looked a little perplexed. “I'm... not entirely sure what you mean, Monsieur Benoit...”
“Why, upstairs to my room of course.”
“Claude...” Jones began, suddenly looking rather put out.
“To your room?” Sarah had no real idea where this conversation was going. “Frankly, Monsieur Benoit, you've completely lost me.”
Claude smiled and looked at them both. “My apologies, Ms Chance, I tend to forget that such negotiations are handled far more formally here in England than they are in my native country. Perhaps I should explain.” Claude refilled both their glasses and relaxed back against the bench. “I would be happy, of course, to allow The Organisation to take the lead in this case now that we're here in London, operating under your own rules and law. Were the two of you in Paris, I'm sure the reverse would apply. However it is traditional in such instances to offer a formal handover. I'm aware that over here in England you do such things with forms and protocol. In France we have a much more interesting way in which to reach agreement on such matters.”
Jones looked at him with a certain amount of trepidation. “Claude, I think I have an idea what you're referring to. I don't really think it's appropriate, to be quite frank.”
Sarah was still lost in this conversation. What was Claude alluding to? Was he expecting some kind of sexual service for his information? That certainly seemed to be the way the conversation was going.
“Ah, but I adore these negotiations, Jones. The thrill of the chase, it never ceases to excite me. I have offered you vital information to help you nip this problem in the bud before the drugs are able to get out onto the streets. I have a close personal connection with Mister Kruger and I can arrange an introduction for both of you into his group to give you an inside view on what he's planning. This will enable you to do as you see fit with him to prevent the spread of the drug amongst your population. All of these things I offer to you gladly, with the blessing of the French Service. In return for handing you control of the case, I merely suggest that we seal the deal in the French manner.”
“In the French manner? I'm not sure I completely understand what you're referring to, Monsieur Benoit.” Sarah gave him a disapproving look.
Claude smiled and took a sip of his wine. “Why, in the bedroom, of course,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye.
“I couldn't possibly allow that.” Jones put his glass down on the table with a flourish. Sarah glanced at him a little sourly. This was a tricky situation, but she knew she would be furious at him if he blew the deal by being too forthright. Jones, however, continued. “Really, Claude, this is too much. Ms Chance was not brought to you as some kind of sexual payment for your information. She's a highly regarded Steam Agent.”
“I think you misconstrue my meaning, Mister Jones,” said Claude, smiling softly and crossing his legs, looking casual and relaxed as he spoke. “Allow me to explain. I am by nature a voyeur. It's what got me into this business in the first place. I like to watch people, to study them, to enjoy the way they speak to each other and interact. It's something which has always fascinated me and which has been of invaluable assistance to me as a spy. I suspect that we all share this interest, given that it pretty much comes with the territory. In my case however, these interests extend beyond the norm. I am also a sexual voyeur, Mister Jones.”
“You like to watch people making love?” Sarah's curiosity was piqued. “And do you do this a lot?”
“Would that I had the opportunity, Ms Chance,” he responded. “Voyeurism is by its very nature an occasional pleasure that I indulge in on those rare occasions when I get the chance. It's not something that comes along very often, but when it does I like to indulge in my little vice wholeheartedly. It requires me to be bold, to engage the exhibitionism of others who are eager to entertain me in such a manner.”
“And people are happy to do this for you? To allow you to watch them?” Sarah was still a little wary of this whole conversation. She could see where it was heading.
Claude laughed softly, giving Sarah a reassuring smile. “You'd be surprised just how readily most people agree to such a thing,” he responded. “I have found that the best way to encourage such a thing to take place is simply to ask politely.”
“And whom do you ask?”
“It can be anyone,” he replied. “Sometimes friends, but more often than not it's strangers whom I ask. If I see a couple, perhaps in a bar or in some similar social venue, I'll open a conversation with them, chat to them casually, and soon into the conversation I'll suggest as politely as I can how attractive I find them both to be, and how very much I'd enjoy watching them make love to each other.”
“And they aren't shocked by this?” Sarah was becoming intrigued.
Claude smiled. “Almost never. You really should try it some time, Ms Chance. I make it very clear that I have no need to become involved with them, that I have no desire to join in and that I simply want to watch. You'd be surprised, I'm sure, by the response. Almost invariably, so long as I put the suggestion to them calmly, they tend to agree. It gives them a little extra added excitement, you understand, with no threat to their relationship whatsoever. They simply enjoy themselves in whatever manner they please with me watching discreetly. Everybody comes out happy.” Claude smiled and took another sip of his wine, raising his eyebrow at her. “You're fascinated by this, I can tell.”
Sarah was more than simply fascinated. The notion of being watched by Claude was absolutely arousing her, despite herself. She wondered if Jones had noticed the change in her demeanour. “I'm certainly impressed by your boldness, Claude.”
Jones spoke up for her again, steadfast in his defence of her honour. “This is all well and good, Monsieur Benoit, but I feel obliged to state again that Ms Chance is not available for your erotic stimulus. Regardless of your interest in her, it's not something that I can allow to be resolved as part of a business agreement between us. If you wish to watch Ms Chance, then that is something the two of you are going to have to arrange privately. I won't allow her to be traded as some kind of commodity, regardless of whether or not that's the way you seal your business dealings over in France.”
Claude smiled again and put down his glass. “You misunderstand again, Mister Jones. I'm not asking to watch Sarah. I'm asking to watch both of you. Together. Making love, as you say so charmingly over here in England. I wish to watch the two of you fuck. Do this for me, and I will happily provide you with all the information you require.”
Sarah gasped involuntarily, very conscious of a sudden rush of warmth between her thighs. Having sex with Jones was the last thing on her mind – she barely knew the man. But being watched whilst she was having sex? Something about that idea was absolutely arousing her. And it wasn't as though she was unaccustomed to sex being a part of delicate negotiations in the spying fraternity. She had been advised to expect that kind of thing back in her basic training. She just hadn't anticipated it in this case, and particularly not with Jones, her own colleague. Seduction techniques were part and parcel of information retrieval, but this was something very new to her.
It wasn't simply that the issue of becoming intimate with Jones was an obvious complication, given that work relationships were never a good thing. There was also the fact that his presence as part of the case was still an irritation her. There was still that nagging thought at the back of her mind that she didn't need an assistant, that she could handle it far better solo. And now it appeared that she was supposed to have sex with him to seal the deal with the Frenchman. This was absolutely not going to plan. She was going to need to speak to Grandfather very firmly about this.
And yet, Jones was looking good, she had to admit. And putting her irritation with him behind, under normal circumstances she absolutely wouldn't say no. The man was annoyingly perfect.
She glanced towards Jones, still not sure how to respond to the offer. She was doing her best to remain calm and professional, but her body was already betraying her and she was getting distinctly wet. Was this about Jones, or was it more about wanting to perform for Claude? His clear lack of morals were undeniably attractive to her, and somewhat intoxicating. If Claude wanted to watch Jones fuck her, she couldn't really think of any good reason to turn him down. It was bound to be awkward, certain social niceties would need to be dealt with, but still... this exquisite Frenchman wanted to watch her fuck the most beautiful man she'd ever met. Of course she was going to say yes.
She held her breath as Jones spoke.
“I think you may have misconstrued the nature of the relationship between myself and Ms Chance,” he said, suddenly sounding a little distracted and hesitant. “We're not actually a couple, far from it. I guess I can see how you might have made such a mistake, but we met for the first time this morning. I barely know her, we've hardly spoken. Performing for you in this manner would be impossible.”
“There's no mistake, Mister Jones,” Claude replied. “Like you, I have been a spy for many years. As I'm sure you know yourself, it becomes second nature to pick up on body language and signals, to ease through the outer skin of a person and to attempt to discover what lies beneath. I was very aware that the two of you weren't a couple the moment Sarah walked through the door. It was plain to see from the way she sat, from the respectful distance she kept from you, from the way you speak to one another. It's clear that you're not intimate with each other. But to someone as accustomed to reading body language as myself, there are plenty of other signals to observe and enjoy.”
“I'm not sure what you mean.” Sarah did her best to sound innocent.
“I'm certain that you know precisely what I mean,” Claude responded, smiling at her. It was a kind, warm smile and she felt herself blush a little at his words. “Both of you do, I think. I'm not sure how much each of you are aware of the responses of the other, but I've been enjoying watching you both as we've been talking this afternoon. It seems very clear to me that you're both very attracted to each other.”
Sarah felt herself blush again, and Jones was seeming a little uncomfortable too. “I think you're reading signals that aren't there,” she said, a little nervously.
“Nonsense,” Claude laughed, “look at the two of you, blushing up a storm. It's delightful! I know what you English are like, you'd revolve around each other for weeks before one or the other got up the nerve to do anything about it. Quite frankly I see no reason why you should wait. I'd be only too delighted to see the two of you make love for the first time. I'd go as far as to say that it would be a rather wonderful pleasure for me.”
Jones was looking increasingly distracted. “Really, Claude, this entire conversation is completely inappropriate.”
Claude smiled. “I have always been utterly inappropriate, as you know only too well. I find that it helps with the job. In this instance, however, I am offering you both nothing but pleasure. The deal is as stated: if you and the delightful Sarah here would be so generous as to allow me to watch you make love to each other, I'll give you any and all assistance in the case that you require. So what do you say?”
“Yes.” Sarah found the word slipping from her lips almost without thinking. Both men looked at her and she felt herself blush again, stumbling a little over her words. “What I mean to say is, you really don't need to defend my honour in this way, Jones. It's lovely of you to do so and I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate it, but I'm not a little girl any more. What I'm trying to say is... I don't really see any problem with what Claude is proposing. It seems to me that we could all have a great deal of fun with it. If you think you'd like to, that is...”
Jones turned and smiled at her softly.
“If that's what you wish, then I think I'd enjoy that a great deal, Sarah.”
four: the first performance
And so the deal was agreed between the three of them. Wasting no time, and not wanting to give them an opportunity to change their minds, Claude invited Sarah and Jones upstairs to his room at the top of the Russell Hotel, bringing a bottle of wine with him and lowering the gas lights a little as they entered.
The room was a large suite, far larger than the rooms that would normally be provided by The Organisation when entertaining British agents. It was clear to Sarah that the French Service were willing to splash out a little more for their own staff, though she figured that Claude was rogueish enough to be able to pass the room off as a crucially important expense to his superiors.
And if this was the kind of thing he got up to, she could understand why. From what little experience Sarah had gained from Claude's company, he seemed to be a very old-fashioned secret agent, overflowing with gentlemanly class and culture. He clearly enjoyed the finer things in life. She wondered if he went into combat with a rapier sword and a dashing smile. So he was a little perverse along with it. Who could blame him?
The room had a high ceiling, with plush scarlet velvet curtains and meticulously polished floorboards. The most dramatic four poster bed she had ever seen took up the space in the centre of the room.
The clank and hiss of the outside traffic barely registered this high up in the Hotel, with only the soft buzz of the occasional ornithopter reminding her they were still in the centre of London. The view from his window was stunning, overlooking the square below, where tourists basked lazily on the grass in the late afternoon sunshine.
A little small talk passed between them as they sipped at their wine. Sarah was feeling nervous about what was to come, but she was also delightfully aroused. She had never done anything even remotely like this before, but she had been curious about the idea from the moment Claude had suggested it. It was undoubtedly filthy, but filthiness could often be a very good thing. Why reject something before at least trying it out?
She hoped that Jones was feeling the same way. This could be potentially embarrassing for both of them, and she was still wishing that this had gone another way. If Jones hadn't been with her, if this had been a solo case as she had wanted it to be, she was pretty sure that she would happily have performed for Claude alone, purely for the experience of it. Masturbating for the pleasure of this decadent Frenchman? She would have had no problem whatsoever with such an arrangement. With Jones here, however, everything was suddenly far more complicated, and she knew that there might be repercussions to deal with afterwards.
Claude pulled a high-backed chair from behind his desk and placed it alongside the bed, positioning it close enough to offer him a perfect view, but far enough away so that there was at least a little discreet distance between them. He seated himself in the chair, loosened his shirt a little and filled their wine glasses again, offering a glass to each of them to break the tension.
Sarah could feel the nerves at the pit of her stomach. She knew that she still had time to back out of the deal, but she resisted the impulse. If she was going to have to do this, the least she could do was to try and enjoy herself. It was just a little casual sex, after all. She eased herself onto the bed first, and watched as Jones removed his jacket and hung it on a hook at the door. He glanced towards her and smiled a little shyly. She felt herself blush in response.
“Is it always like this?” she asked. “You know, this awkwardness? I find myself feeling rather shy, and I'm not entirely sure why.” She glanced across to Claude, looking in his eyes, wondering what he was thinking about her, wondering what he was about to see, wondering if he was turned on by this initial awkwardness.
“I've tried various ways to remove this tension in the past,” Claude replied, “and I don't believe anything really works. You're bound to be a little nervous and tense. This is a new thing for you. Try to relax and enjoy yourselves. Forget that I'm here. I'll just be sitting here quietly. Don't let me interrupt you. Imagine that you're alone with him, it might make things a little easier for you.”
The one thing Sarah knew for certain was that there was no way she'd be able to forget that Claude was there in the room with them. Even sat quietly on his chair by the bed, doing his best to remain discreet and unnoticed, his presence was never far from her mind. What's more, she didn't really want to forget that he was there. Jones was undeniably attractive, but she knew that she was really doing this for Claude. She wanted to be watched. She had wanted it from the moment Claude had suggested it. It was Jones who was the complication for her, not Claude.
The Frenchman was already looking at her, studying them both, his gaze both unnerving and arousing her. She found herself wondering if he would touch himself once they began, suddenly curious whether he'd begin to masturbate once they were naked on the bed and having sex, or whether he'd simply sit quietly and watch. She supposed that it was a question they should have asked before they began, but it seemed a little too late for that now. The time for discussion was long past, and she was frankly becoming too turned on to care any more.
The idea of what they were about to do was overcoming her nerves, and she could feel her anticipation growing, eager to please both Jones and Claude, but for the most part wanting to please herself. She already knew that she was certain to come. Just the thought of it was thrilling her. She understood now why Claude found it so easy to play the sexual voyeur, if all his subjects found the idea this exquisite.
Jones approached the bed, looking slightly uncomfortable but clearly as aroused as she was, adjusting to the situation and adapting to it as best he could. He lifted his hand up to her face and stroked her cheek softly and delicately, as though he was afraid to break her. She could barely breathe.
Already she was questioning her attitude earlier that day. Had Jones really done anything to deserve her disdain? Grandfather had given him a job to do and he was doing it. It wasn't Jones personally that was her problem, it was just the situation. And right now, with his fingertips drifting softly across her cheek, she could absolutely forget all about the situation.
“Despite what you might have heard about me,” he whispered, his fingertips tracing softly across her cheek, tipping her face up towards his, “I don't normally fuck on the first date.”
His touch was making her melt. “Oh, hey,” she smiled, “we met this morning. This is our second date, you're totally in the clear.”
“You're sure you're okay with this? We can stop right now if this feels wrong to you...”
“Let's enjoy it,” she whispered. “I'm feeling impulsive.” She winked cheekily at him, nuzzling her cheek against his gentle touch.
Jones smiled, leaned over her and kissed her sensually. Sarah felt her breath almost taken away from her, his lips gliding so softly against hers, her head spinning delightfully as she pressed herself against him, his body warm and firm, his desire for her clearly evident. As he pulled her towards him, his hand slid through her hair, the other hand slipping down her back and pulling her closer. He kissed her again deeply, and Sarah's trepidation disappeared completely. He wanted her as much as she wanted him right now, and the idea of that was intoxicating to her.
As the kiss deepened and intensified, Sarah could already feel herself wanting to surrender to him. She could feel his hands exploring her, her pulse rate increasing at the thought of it. And Jones was clearly equally as aroused, his initial hesitancy disappearing quickly, his fingertips tugging her dress slowly down over her shoulders, his teeth biting playfully on her neck.
Her thighs parted willingly as his hand drifted up, touching her, each caress of his fingertips electric on her skin, her soft gasps echoing his movements. She had never felt this way before, so desperate to be consumed, needing to be taken completely by him.
Where was this coming from? She had never felt the need to be submissive before, but something about Jones's touch was encouraging it. Her clothes were being quickly discarded as their bodies began to merge together: kissing, biting and touching, her desire increasing.
At the back of her mind she still knew that she was being watched, that Claude was right there next to the bed watching as Jones undressed her, able to see her arousal.
But right now the thought was barely registering with her. All she could think of, all she could feel, were Jones' lips, his hands, his fingertips, as he explored her body, thrilling her senses. She hadn't expected anything quite like this from him. If this was simply a performance for Claude's benefit, he was entering into the role wholeheartedly and passionately.
She was becoming delightfully wet.
Her own hands were equally as busy, tugging open his shirt buttons, running her fingertips across his chest, kissing his neck as her hands moved down to unfasten his trouser belt, almost ripping it open and pulling his trousers down as he moved against her.
Jones was in heat now. As Sarah fell back against the bed, her dress long since discarded, Jones was already between her open thighs, his breath heavy and increasing, his gaze not leaving her. She looked into his eyes, and all she could see was unrestrained desire for her.
With a gentle growl he pulled her up against him. Sarah giggled and wrapped her legs around his waist as they kissed again more freely, their mutual nervousness long since forgotten.
Sarah grinned and took another lustful bite of his neck. Jones moaned softly, reaching around her, his fingertips snapping open the clasp of her bra, pulling it away from her shoulders and tossing it to the floor. Sarah tugged off his shirt and kissed him again, her bare breasts brushing against his chest, her kiss sensuous and hungry.
“Ohh my god, Jones...”
Sarah gasped as she felt his hands slide up over her breasts, and she groaned softly as he pinched her nipples, clamping her legs more firmly around him, rubbing herself against him wantonly. She could feel his erection pressing against the crotch of her panties, realising how wet she was becoming, wondering if he'd be able to feel the moisture as he moved against her. Without thinking she pushed Jones back on the bed, kissing her way down his body, her fingers trembling as they drifted over his erection, teasing it through his boxers. His cock was already firm, throbbing at her touch.
She needed to see it. With a firm tug she pulled down his briefs, slipping them off his ankles and throwing them to the floor, her face flushed, her desire intense. She felt herself pulse as his erection was exposed, his cock visibly throbbing between his thighs, aching to fuck her.
“God... Jones... can I touch it?”
“Please do,” he whispered, “I want that.”
She slid her hand around his cock, feeling it warm and hard in her hand, easing her fingers up and down along his length, stroking him. Jones groaned in response. She moved herself closer down towards him, momentarily fascinated, his hips flexing up towards her hand as her breath drifted over the head of his swollen erection.
“Fuck yes...” he whispered, one of his hands teasing through her hair, pulling her face closer to his cock. She knew what he wanted, what he needed. The gentle, insistent pulse in her hand was a clear enough signal.
Sarah smiled up at him, took another couple of strokes and then engulfed his erection with her mouth. Jones moaned with pleasure, her lips sliding eagerly down over his cock, sucking on him, her tongue swirling, tasting him.
Jones groaned again: “Ohh fuck... god, that feels good...” He pushed his cock deeper into her mouth, his hand firm in her hair, fucking her mouth slowly back and forth, his penis throbbing with each long, slow thrust, her lips and tongue caressing his length, his body trembling with desire.
Sarah lifted herself up from Jones' cock, taking a last lick around the head of his penis, lingering there for a few moments, adoring the taste of him on her tongue. She looked up at him again, knowing how much men loved that, her hand still around him and stroking him teasingly, lost for a moment in his gaze, her heart beating faster, her sex dripping wet.
Slowly she became conscious again of Claude right there next to them, sat quietly on the chair against the bed, his face a little flushed and clearly feeling the heat in the room. She was suddenly aware of how she must look to him right now. She was only wearing her panties, with Jones naked and erect alongside her, her hand still around his cock, stroking him. Delightful little wet sounds accompanied each stroke, his penis throbbing in her hand, wet from her lips.
Sarah had never been this naked or this exposed in front of a man before unless she was intending to fuck him. She had never been watched by someone else like this, and Claude's presence as their voyeur was intensifying her arousal. She wondered what he was thinking right now. She wanted him to see her like this, unashamed of how she looked, wanting him to know how very much she needed to be fucked.
Did Claude want to fuck her too? Was he picturing himself in Jones' place, his cock hard in her hand? Sarah looked directly at Claude, still breathing hard, her hair half-fallen across her face as she caught his gaze, her hand still wrapped around Jones's cock, easing up and down, keeping him erect, loving the power she suddenly held, knowing that she was arousing both of them, wanting that.
Jones was groaning softly, his body moving in rhythm with her fingers, thrusting slowly up into her hand, and she leaned over him again, taking him back into her mouth, sucking him, engulfing his hard cock with her lips, his body jerking a little as her tongue slid around his shaft, licking all the way back up and teasing him with the tip of her tongue, looking up again at Claude, watching him as he watched her.
Claude's arousal was clearly evident, his cock bulging in his trousers and very erect, his face a picture of lust. She was certain that he was imagining her lips around his cock, was sure that he was wondering just how good it would feel. If he had made a move towards her right at that moment, she would have happily taken his cock into her mouth. She very much wanted to fuck them both.
And yet Claude remained in his chair, watching and smiling.
Sarah grinned at him cheekily, taking another lingering, teasing lick of Jones' swollen cock, and Claude smiled softly back, maintaining his composure, continuing to watch. As his gaze wandered over her body, looking at her, clearly wanting her, his hand drifted down between his thighs, gently rubbing, masturbating himself through his trousers as she looked at him.
Sarah felt another delicious rush of wetness at her sex, needing to be fucked now, no longer able to wait. She knew that if Claude was to make a move on her right there, right now, she wouldn't have resisted him. She wanted to fuck both of them, wanted to make them both come, in her cunt, in her mouth, all over her. Just the thought of it was soaking the crotch of her panties, her body trembling with desire.
Still looking firmly at Claude, her gaze not leaving him, she whispered softly: “Fuck me, Jones. I want you to fuck me.”
She smiled as Claude gasped softly, one hand slowly unbuttoning his shirt, the other unfastening his trousers, his fingers easing down inside.
Jones groaned with pleasure, his cock achingly erect now. He pushed Sarah onto her back on the bed, took hold of her panties and tugged them off her ankles. He leaned over and kissed her neck, his body now firmly between her open legs, the length of his cock rubbing against her sex, gliding along it, slipping against the wetness.
She could barely take this. Every touch of his fingers was inflaming her senses. She needed it so very badly.
“Fuck me, Jones...” she gasped again, her hand sliding down to take hold of his cock, guiding the swollen head against the lips of her sex. “Ohh god, please fuck me...”
Jones kissed her lips, almost savagely, his tongue caressing hers, their mouths gliding, tasting, devouring each other. Her need was overpowering her. Not just the need to be fucked, not simply the desire to feel his cock inside her – Sarah needed to be possessed by Jones, needed to feel him take her. She wanted to be consumed by him for Claude's pleasure. Every sense in her body was aching for him, wanting him.
Jones growled softly, his erect penis nudging between the wet lips of her cunt. With one sudden movement he thrust hard and deep inside her. Sarah groaned with pleasure as his cock filled her, feeling every inch of him as he pushed all the way into her cunt, his cock invading her, penetrating her, his hips grinding against her as he began to fuck her.
She knew that Claude was right there, knew that he could see her naked and aroused, knew that he could see Jones's cock plunging into her, and the thought of that pushed her arousal further, clinging onto Jones and kissing him again, her thighs gripping around him, moaning with each thrust.
Their bodies moved in rhythm together, intimate little wet sounds spilling from her cunt as the rhythm increased, her hands sliding down to his firm buttocks, pulling him into her harder, wanting to be taken, wanting to be fucked. Each thrust seemed deeper and harder, Jones looking down at her as he rammed his cock into her sex, leaning down again and biting on her neck. Sarah cried out with pleasure, so filled, needing more, never wanting this to stop.
She heard a gasp, looking across to see Claude still sat next to them, his shirt now discarded on the floor, his trousers unfastened and open, his hand grasping his firm, throbbing cock, stroking it back and forth in the same rhythm that Jones was fucking her.
It was clear that he was imagining himself in Jones' place, thinking about just how good it would feel to fuck her, his fist gliding up and down his swollen erection.
Sarah gasped with pleasure, barely able to look away from that gorgeous cock, slick wet sounds accompanying each stroke of his fingers, masturbating delightfully as he watched them.
As much as she loved feeling Jones so deep inside her, his touch so intimate, his caresses electrifying her arousal, the presence of Claude was making this all so much more intense. The idea that he was watching her, masturbating urgently, was increasing her desire exponentially.
She wanted to make him come. She wanted to see him come. She wanted them both to come, inside her, all over her.
Fuck yes... all over me...
The idea brought a flood of her wetness spilling over Jones's pulsing cock. Sarah clung harder onto him, barely able to take it now, trying hard not to come too soon, her hands clutching onto him as he rammed his cock deeper, her cunt splashing with each thrust of his penis inside her.
She looked up at him, catching his gaze, his eyes so filled with desire for her, clearly right on the edge himself, thrusting and pounding, possessing her, taking her. She was so close now, needing Jones to come inside her, needing to feel him fill her, again and again.
His skin felt so good to her touch, strong and hard against her, her body arching up to him now, needing him deeper, so close to her orgasm, his cock pulsing harder inside her, his moans increasing. It was clear he was holding back his orgasm, waiting for her, his cock thrusting deeper into her cunt, each thrust pushing her closer.
“You're going to make me come...” she gasped.
She wasn't sure whether she was talking now to Jones or to Claude, the thought of both of them driving her closer to the edge.
Jones' cock thrust deeper inside her now, his hands suddenly grabbing her wrists, pushing them up over her head, holding her down hard on the bed as he took her.
Sarah screamed with pleasure, arching and writhing underneath him, playfully struggling under his grip, glancing across again to the side of the bed to see Claude's hand working faster along his cock, masturbating urgently now, his achingly erect penis slick with pre-cum, clearly right on the edge of his own orgasm, waiting for them to come, needing it.
Sarah felt her wetness surge again, spilling over Jones' cock, realising she was beyond the point of no return.
“Oh god...” she groaned, “I can't hold it back... ohh fuck... I'm gonna come... don't stop... ohh fuck don't stop...”
Jones moaned intensely, pounding his cock more urgently inside her, his grip firmer around her wrists, pinning her down, Sarah's thighs clamped around him.
“Ohh god Sarah,” he gasped, “ohhh FUCK yes... that's it... I'm coming... I'm COMING...”
“Ohhhh fuck Jones... ohh now... UUNNNHHHHHHHH!”
Sarah cried out with pleasure, her body arching up to him, her own orgasm suddenly surging through her body, feeling him start to come inside her, so hard, so deep, spurt after spurt of hot cum jetting from his cock, pouring into her cunt.
Sarah clung desperately to him, crying out in ecstasy, their bodies merging together, her cunt engulfing his cock, her wetness spilling down his balls as she came, soaking him.
She heard an intense groan from the side of the bed, seeing Claude stroking his cock urgently, the head of his erection swollen, only moments away from his own orgasm.
Clinging onto Jones frantically she turned to watch him, looking right into his eyes.
“Come for me...” she gasped, “ohh fuck, Claude... I want to see it... don't hold it back... do it... come for me... ohhh god come for me...”
Claude groaned intensely, stroking his cock hard and fast. With a soft growl he got up from the chair and moved right over her face, stroking himself urgently. An arc of cum suddenly spurted from his penis and splashed down onto her cheek, followed by another spurt, and another, spattering across her lips, covering her with his cum.
Sarah cried out again: “Fucking god... UUUNNHHHHHHHH! NNNHH! NNNHHH! UNNHHHH!” Her body jolted with intense pleasure, gripping hard onto Jones as her orgasm intensified, her gaze not leaving Claude, wanting to see it, loving it.
And as her orgasm slowly subsided, Jones's erection still throbbing inside her, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to take Claude's cock into her mouth, and slowly lap at his cum.