Pleasure In Control

Chapter 7 (Bodystockings)

We talked and talked and we ate and we laughed and we relaxed together like old friends. I felt renewed and invigorated. Then, Kirsten told me a little more of what to expect at the New Product Launch tomorrow.

“You must expect to get away late,” she warned.

“How late?”

“Well, let's see. The actual show will start at 7:00, to give busy clients time to arrive. Some will come straight from work and can use the Private Rooms to shower, change and freshen up. The formal part of the show will last about an hour with a break. So, expect to leave around 11:00.”

“What? How am I supposed to spend the last 3 hours?”

“Oh, there's loads of time to, well, network. ‘Julia' might pick up some contacts for her recruitment agency. There will be food and drink. And dancing.” Kirsten then looked at me seriously. “And then the individual showings afterwards, in the Private Rooms. You can expect to have a really good time so, er, save yourself for tomorrow, right?”

My mind was racing, full of expectation.

“Whichever Dem invites a client acts as her hostess for the evening. Who actually invited you?” quizzed Kirsten.

“Stevie, at Knightsbridge.”

“Good. She's great fun to be with at these events. Did you meet any other Dems who you know are going to be there?”

“Yeah, I know that at least two Dems from Manchester will be there: Mandy and Vikki. And Maria will be coming down from Edinburgh.”

I paused and winked at Kirsten. “Maria and I got to know each other very well.” She knew exactly what I meant. “You actually came, right there in the changing rooms? On your first visit?”

“Well, yes. Why? What have I done?”

“Well, that's quite unusual, but not totally unheard of.”

”But it all felt so, so right . Anyway, Maria led me on, and we kept our knickers on all the time.”

“Maria is a very, very sexy lady and you've experienced something that I have lain awake at night and only dreamt of doing. You lucky girl, she must really like you. She wouldn't have done that just to make a sale, not the first time.”

Then Kirsten changed her tone.

“This isn't our first time; you never finished showing me the new clothes you bought last week and you've got heaps more now. I'll pour another glass of wine whilst you go and change.”

At first I was reluctant, but it would be fun showing off in front of Kirsten again – she's such a good audience. I looked through my wardrobe and discounted those items amongst my newly acquired underwear that I knew for certain I had already shown to Kirsten. That left a number of things she hadn't seen.

I ran through my delectable new collection. I couldn't wear my lemon yellow set, or that black backless bodysuit, or the gold basque & panties, nor my dramatic front-fastening half-cup white bra, as they all needed to be laundered first. Pity.

She'll see me in my new strappy blue bikini at the health club one day sooner or later. I couldn't wait to show her my red ‘hen-party' bra & thong that I'd bought in Knightsbridge last week, but I wanted to save that for another time. Oh, then there was my silver corset that Rachel gave me – Kirsten would enjoy lacing me up tight in that sometime.

I was planning to wear the cerise bra & briefs to the show the next day, or maybe the navy basque. Kirsten hadn't seen either of them yet; I could try on both of them and ask her opinion. Or maybe the strappy black set that Stevie originally modelled for me, but that was still so beautifully wrapped up.

“Kirsten, I'd value your opinion on what I should wear to the launch party tomorrow. What do you think about this?” I paraded into the room in just my cerise bra and pants.

“Oh, Julia, they look just perfect. Let me get a closer look. Who sold them to you?”

“It was Fiona in Oxford Street. She's very good, isn't she.”

“Fiona is excellent. She's a bit older than the average Dem but the mature clients identify with her. Don't underestimate Fiona. She'll be at the show tomorrow, you'll see.”

“What do you think then? Is it suitable?”

“Depends what you're going to wear on top.”

“Hmm, I hadn't got that far yet. I've got a couple of old cocktail dresses, but they'll be in those boxes from Paris. They'll be a bit crumpled.”

“Oh, just buy something, on the firm. You'd look devastating in a strapless LBD. Get one tomorrow, sweetie. Do it. For me. Will you?”

“OK, but I can't wear this bra with a strapless dress. However …”

Back in my bedroom I stripped off and squeezed myself into my navy-blue basque and matching panties.

“Well?”

“Julia, that's just wonderful. Fiona again?”

“Yup”

“Here, let me help you.” Kirsten insisted on clipping the front hook-fasteners onto their tightest setting and then stood back to admire her handiwork. “Much better. “OK. Next, got some nice stockings?”

Kirsten helped me put on a pair of navy lace-topped stockings. She carefully attached the suspender ribbons and adjusted them expertly. Without touching me, of course. Clever

I looked at myself in the mirror and I saw another woman reflected back at me. Slimmer, sexier and more confident. A woman ready to mix with the best and hold her own.

“So, what will you be wearing?” I asked, without even thinking to put on a robe.

“I, along with all the other Passionella hostesses, will be in the corporate colour - Burgundy. Charlotte has ordered catsuits for us all – we haven't even seen them yet. Underneath we'll all be wearing the new bodystocking range. Some of the Dems will model them on the catwalk; the rest of us will be giving personal viewings to our best clients.”

“Kirsten, will you be providing an intimate special service to anyone?” I asked, loaded with jealousy.

“Kirsten, it's my job and I get paid well to do it. And I enjoy it. You have to accept that.”

“But, Kirsten, I can't bear to think that someone else might see you naked tomorrow, and I haven't even seen your tits yet!”

“Oh Julie. You're getting too emotionally involved. But, I understand and I appreciate your feelings. If that's the issue, I'll make amends. Just sit back and relax.”

Kirsten flicked on my music player and scrolled through 'till she found a track with a thumping bass-line then walked back to where I was perched on one of my furniture cubes. She then put on one of her wonderfully provocative displays.

She danced gently to the music, throwing pouting, evocative glances at me on every fourth beat. She twisted sensually and she swayed. Then, to my delight, she slipped her tight jersey dress off her shoulders and gradually, very slowly, she pulled it all the way down her torso and down her stocking-clad legs before kicking it towards me with a flourish.

Under the dress she wore a skimpy white cotton bra with a floral design and a matching G-string and suspenders. She continued to turn and pose and her movements became ever more sensual. I was getting pretty hot for her by now but she just kept me dangling on a string. She cupped her small breasts and she caressed her body, looking at me all the time from under her dark eyebrows.

I couldn't control myself any longer. “We've got a deal, you teaser.” I called across to her.

Kirsten took up the challenge and reached behind her shoulder blades, pushing her boobs forward. She unhooked the clasp but, annoyingly, she held the bra over her breasts for what seemed like forever. I was getting really frustrated with her now, and she knew it.

“Come on, let me see your tits you sexy bitch.” I cried out.

Finally, and very slowly, she removed the cotton fabric that encased the soft, warm flesh of her breasts and I saw them naked for the first time.

I was not disappointed.

They are my favourite shape. Fairly small but beautifully shaped. Quite firm, but they bounced a little as she continued to move to the music. Set high and quite wide apart on her chest, just as I like boobs to be. And with lovely large, raised areolae that add significantly to the overall size of her breasts; she'd might even be just be an A cup if it wasn't for those swollen areolae that set off her smallish nipples so attractively. Like small rounded cakes with mounds of dark pink icing on top, each with a cherry in the middle – good enough to eat.

“Kirsten, you have gorgeous boobs. Why did you keep them from me for so long.”

“But Julie, haven't you enjoyed the wait? Isn't this moment all the more exciting because of the build-up and the anticipation?” She emphasised the point by running her hands slowly and sensually up her torso before cupping her breasts in her hands.

“Well, yes, of course it is. Kirsten, you make me feel such a slut; I've shown everything I have to you so soon, I have nothing left to give. I'm ashamed.” I replied, feeling quite emotional but still very aroused.

”Julia, don't be. I can teach you so much more about yourself and your body, you'll see. And you are just starting out with some of the Dems. You're going to have such a good time with Passionella.”

“And I'm really looking forward to it, especially tomorrow. I'm feeling so turned on. I used to get by on one orgasm a week on average and could go for longer if I needed. Since I joined Passionella though, even once every two of days doesn't seem to be nearly often enough. I just wonder what's happening to me, I'm in an almost constant state of arousal. I love the feelings but I seem to need more and more stimulation and more frequent orgasms.”

“Are you complaining?” asked Kirsten, then went on to explain: “I find the same thing, I used to be like you. I would make love perhaps once a week and usually I wouldn't come. Sometimes he would frig me off afterwards; he was very good at it too. But now I find I can masturbate several time in one day and I love it. The more often I come the sexier I feel, it's what drives me. It's the same for most of the Passionella girls. Sometimes, though, I like to go for the quality not the quantity. If I abstain for even a couple of days, I get so aroused that I can hardly think. I love to concentrate on delaying my next release and the feelings just build and build. Finally, when I do come, I experience the most wonderfully intense orgasms and I know it's the anticipation that fuels their power. Basically, I like to tease myself.”

“I've noticed. And you love to tease me, don't you.”

“You're learning. Try it. Remember when we masturbated together in my apartment last Friday? Well, I hadn't come for, let me see, three days. That's a long time for me. I was feeling so horny already and then the show you put on for me drove me out of my mind.”

Kirsten then paused and looked at me intensely with her lovely blue eyes for several seconds before speaking again. “Julie, there's something I'd like to try. It's something I have never done and I don't know if it's possible. If there was ever a chance this could work for anyone, you could make it happen for me. Do you want to try something that would be very special? Very special indeed.”

“Tell me. What is it you want me to do?”

“Julie, do you think it is possible for a woman to come, to reach orgasm, just from the other four senses?”

“You mean, without touching herself? Or anyone else touching her? Anywhere?”

“Yes, just by sight, and sound. And smell of course. Oh, but taste is out too.”

“But Kirsten, of course. It must be possible. I've been very close to coming several times just over the last few days. It's taken all my willpower to suppress my feelings of intense arousal that I have experienced watching you, and Rachel and Stevie. Oh, and when Charlotte gave me my ‘aptitude test' I nearly died from becoming so desperately, well, randy .”

“Julie, it might be more difficult than you think,” warned Kirsten. “I've tried but I've never been able to do it on my own. With someone like you, someone who makes me feel so very horny, I think I could tip myself over the edge. I've tried to make other girls come, whilst they've been watching me, but I can't be sure it's ever worked.”

“Didn't you ask them?”

“I couldn't really. You see, I was working in a lap-dancing club. That's how I joined Passionella, that's how I was recruited.”

I didn't know what to say. Kirsten continued.

“I'd had a few different jobs and wanted a bit of excitement. I'd never dream of working on the street but this was a safe, controlled environment. I can't say I enjoyed it, except occasionally”

“So, I'd dance for the guys, but I grew to hate it. Then some of the guys started to bring girls in to watch. They enjoyed my show too. Then, some women started to come along in all-girl groups and some on their own. One of these was Linda.”

“You met her in a lap-dance club?”

“Amazing isn't it,” Kirsten agreed.

“She's so sophisticated and confident. I assumed she was happily married to some really successful guy with beautiful children and …”

“Far from it. Linda is a deeply sad person. She has a sexual problem and the whole of the Passionella UK set-up is her way of dealing with it. It's all connected with this Look, Don't Touch rule.”

I was captivated. “Please go on,” I encouraged.

“You see, she told me once about an incident she had at school that changed her life. She went to a strict boarding school with loads of rules. One of these was that the girls were not supposed to masturbate and certainly were not allowed to touch each other. Not at all.”

This sounded familiar. Perhaps mine wasn't the only really strict school.

“Then, one evening, when she was 17, Linda was caught in a passionate lesbian encounter with the Head of Sport. They were in a 69 or something. The headmistress gave Linda a sound lashing with a leather strap and then punished her in a much more cruel way”

“Do you know what that was?”

“Oh yes, I think that Charlotte and I are the only ones who know. But I can tell you, it's OK. She was watched by a member of staff every minute of the day, especially in the showers and even when she went to the loo. Then, every night for a whole month, Linda was handcuffed to her bed with her arms at her sides so she couldn't touch herself. The other girls were so cruel, they would taunt and tease her. They called her Lezzie Linda. They played out mock lesbian sex acts, they paraded up and down past her bed in their underwear and they made as much noise as they could when the masturbated in their beds.”

“But that was against Miss Grundleton's rules.”

“But they did it anyway. And apparently some stood at the bottom of Linda's bed and frigged themselves off right in front of her. She must have been so frustrated and humiliated. The end result is that poor Linda has never been able to have an orgasm since. She's learnt to live with a permanent state of sexual arousal with no chance of release.”

“What? For 15 years, maybe more? And you can't last more than 3 days!”

“Amazing isn't it. But, you see, she can't bear to touch herself, it makes her sick. And she can't allow anyone else touch her. It's like aversion therapy.”

“I see it all now. That's why watching and posing, and those wonderfully sexy pictures, are such a part of Passionella UK. I guess she's giving to other women what she can't have herself.”

Then Kirsten confronted me. “So who's Mrs Grundleton?”

“She was the headmistress at Linda's school, you mentioned her name earlier.”

“No I didn't. I didn't even know her name until you mentioned it”

I had to confess. “You've worked it out too, haven't you? I went to the same school as Linda. She' already left before I started but the story was legendary. It had been embellished over the years but was basically as you described. I only realised it was her when you were recounting the story.”

I sighed and thought it all through. “Poor Linda. Is that why she went to the lap-dancing club?”

“Yes, she though maybe she could come like the guys did. But it never happened.”

I then looked deep into Kirsten's blue eyes. “Do you think that if we could succeed, together, if we could make each other come, like you said, with no touching, that one of us would then have the confidence to go and do the same for poor Linda?”

Kirsten smiled. “That would make her so very happy. If anyone can, you can. Linda loves you to bits. She's been searching for years to find someone like you and I found you, in that store. Linda's so pleased. She's pleased with me too and she's promised to reward me.”

I was intrigued. Then Kirsten stood up.

“But not now, look, it's getting late. I must go home so we are fresh for tomorrow. After the show we can look forward to our ‘trial run'. Are you up for it?”

“Yes, oh yes. I'd love to. As soon as possible. But it will take some planning, to make the time really special if it's going to work. Look, what about this Saturday? I'm free all weekend,” I suggested, eagerly.

“Don't forget the show tomorrow. I'll have to come at least once with each of my best clients. And you will have to come for sure otherwise you'll blow your cover. All the clients will, that's what the go there for.”

“Yeah, as I thought. No-one actually calls it a brothel though, do they?”

“Don't ever suggest that again,” warned Kirsten, “and especially not to anyone outside Passionella. We'd be closed down and the parent company would be badly damaged. Remember, they don't know.”

“OK, but I think I can be ready again and simmering nicely by Saturday night. You?”

“I'll be raring to go; I'll be glad of the rest on Friday but by Saturday my pussy will be hot and throbbing for you. You'll see.” The way Kirsten spoke had me squirming on my seat and I realised that I had learnt a lot recently about maintaining a constant state of heightened arousal. ‘This is going to be just terrific', I mused.

Kirsten and I had been sitting around half naked for over an hour and I was getting cold. After Kirsten dressed and left I released my aching body from the confines of my basque and took a long hot bath. I climbed into bed, tired but so excited that I almost needed those handcuffs to stop myself from fingering myself off to sleep.

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

As I strolled around the Oxford Street store looking for a LBD, one of the Passionella Dems walked past on her way to lunch; I was ‘on duty' so I caught Fiona's attention and asked her to help me choose something for the show.

Leading me to an area displaying a designer whose name I did not recognise, she suggested a short black strapless cocktail dress in opaque velvet-like material with wide decorative black satin edging. I was delighted to see it also had slits up either side. One of them continued with a zipper right up the side, making it very easy to put on. And to take off.

Fiona suggested I try it on in the Passionella changing rooms where I undressed quickly (I was getting used to this) and Fiona zipped me up. The dress fitted me really well but Fiona was concerned that it was too short.

“You realise you will show your stocking tops and suspenders when you sit down, especially with those side slits.”

“Sounds good to me” I replied and Fiona shrugged her shoulders, then enquired: “Who is your hostess for tonight, do you have a firm arrangement with someone?”

“Yes, thanks, I'm going with Stevie from Knightsbridge, I guess I'll meet her there.” Fiona looked disappointed, shrugged her shoulders and left without even saying goodbye, only: “That's fine, if you like that sort of thing. I hope you enjoy yourself.” She slammed the changing room door behind her.

I grabbed a light lunch in James St. and headed back to my apt. I hung up my new dress carefully then started to unpack my two boxes from France in which I was pleased to find some favourite pairs of high-heeled boots and shoes.

I wanted to be among the first to arrive so I could observe the unfolding events of this unusual and much-anticipated evening. I called Stevie to tell her to expect me around 6:00 then I dived in the shower. I pampered myself something rotten and came out cleaner than a surgeon's hands before a heart transplant op. Then I tidied up my latest pubic-hair-style with a new shaver I'd bought on a recommendation from a particularly enlightened sales assistant in a beautycare department.

With my hair coaxed into my usual ‘rough-and-ready ringlets' style and my finger and toenails polished and shaped to navy-blue perfection I stood in front of my long mirror, totally naked, and admired what I saw.

My buttocks looked as high, tight and rounded as ever and I loved the look of my pussy, trimmed and shaved into a perfect vee-shape. My waist was not quite as narrow as I would have liked it to be and my tummy was slightly rounded – I needed to start going to the gym again and to be even more careful about my diet – but some women like a more rounded shape. Moving further up, my boobs looked terrific as they swelled proudly towards their reflections. I leant forward so they touched the mirror. The shock of the cold glass made me wince a little but my mind was soon occupied by different feelings as my nipples immediately reacted to the cold and stiffened, pulling the dark skin of my areolae into smaller puckered circles and increasing their sensitivity by a factor of ten.

I had to consciously tear myself away from my own reflected image or I would have been late for the show. Self-denial and heightened erotic state were becoming a part of my everyday life. Like Kirsten, I was finding that frequent sexual stimulation and fulfilment just made me want to pleasure and reward my body even more often.

I took my navy-blue basque from its drawer and, wrapping it around my body, I enfolded my breasts in its delicate but firmly-controlling cups. I attached each of the hooks with care so as not to damage my nails and then slipped on my briefs. Pulling my matching navy stockings on one at a time, I secured their lace tops to the long satin suspender ribbons with their trade-mark ‘Lips' motifs over their clips then looked at myself again in the mirror.

I let out a long, satisfied sigh - I looked so very, very sexy. Sophisticated but provocative, both hidden and revealed. A game of hide and seek.

My face carried an expression of pleasure mixed with anticipation. From there, my neck led my eyes down to my upper body where twin boobs rose majestically above the top of the basque in shining splendour. They were lifted upwards and slightly together, the view unobscured by any shoulder straps, Kirsten having removed them the evening before.

Onwards my eyes tracked down over the decorated satin, fine neat stitching and partially-revealing lace panels. Emerging from below the slightly-flared bottom edge, my torso was only visible for about 2 inches before it disappeared again inside the only-symbolic protection of my satin briefs. Then my smooth-shaven legs appeared, only to quickly disappear again into luxurious lace-topped sheer nylon.

I told myself that a million or more men would have given up all they had to see me standing there like that. But I wasn't interested in having any man look at my body, or want to hold it, take it, touch it and defile it. Tonight my body was reserved for a small select group of passionate, compassionate women.

Refocusing on the task, I wound my new dress around me and engaged the zip. I wriggled to get comfortable and it fitted perfectly. My boobs peeped provocatively over the top; twin soft and only very slightly mobile mounds of welcoming flesh. Then I stood sideways to the mirror and smiled. Just as I had hoped. If I stood upright with my legs straight and my arse-cheeks clenched, the side slits of the dress remained closed and became almost invisible. But when I walked, even taking short steps, they opened enough to show lace stocking-tops.

I pulled a chair up to the mirror for the ultimate test. Yes, when I sat down, the dress rode up to reveal stocking-top, suspenders and pale tender flesh. Perfect.

I heard a car horn outside and grabbed a wrap before taking one last glance at myself in the mirror and dashing for the taxi.

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

I arrived outside the smoked-glass fronted building at two minutes after six where my senses were greeted by a riot of light and colour, of atmospheric music and the smell of exotic food and welcoming drinks. Linda greeted me by name: “Hello, Julia,” emphasising the more formal ‘client' version of my name, just to remind me of my role tonight, “so pleased to see you here this evening. Welcome. Come over and meet some people you know. You are the first customer to arrive; I'll introduce you to some other clients later.”

The ‘people I know' were all looking devastatingly gorgeous in their matching burgundy catsuits. Kirsten was first to greet me with a very continental air-kiss over each shoulder. She had her catsuit buttoned up to the neck and it followed the line of the body I had got to know rather well, matching its shape curve for curve until it finally widened from the knees into a fashionable flare. The garment was smooth tight but gave away no secrets about what lay underneath. No visible-panty-line and no bra-strap shadows, leading the viewer to surmise that there was nothing to keep the burgundy fabric from touching Kirsten's Irish-white skin. She passed me a plate of canapés and a warm compliment before excusing herself.

Next to greet me was Rachel, as fizzy and exciting as the champagne she offered to me. Her hair was beautifully slinky and hung down her back, tied tightly at equally-spaced intervals with burgundy silk ribbons before ending, squarely-cut and severe in the small of her back. Characteristically, Rachel had the first five of her buttons undone, showing just a hint of firm cleavage but again no evidence of and underclothes. “Hi, great to see you. This is your first Passionella launch show isn't it?” She too was careful to treat me as a client not a colleague, especially as a couple more guests were arriving now.

I managed to speak briefly to Emma, who was looking ravishing in her snug suit that emphasised her curvaceous body. She too had dared to leave a few buttons undone and I contrived unsuccessfully to get her to lean forward. “I'm worried about Fiona,” I whispered, “She's acting cattily towards Stevie. Do you know why?”

“Yes. Apparently she's lost two of her best clients to the Knightsbridge store and believes they have deserted her for a ‘brazen young American tart', as she put it. Actually, I believe that Fiona needs to work harder on her store displays and stock levels and stop taking it personally. Thanks for letting me know. If her wayward clients are here this evening I'll point them out. I'd like you to try to defuse any rivalry that may surface between Fiona and Stevie; you are impartial. Thanks.” I nodded and smiled and make some small talk.

Some more clients were arriving now and stopped for a drink and snack whilst I saw Kirsten leading another to a Private Room to freshen up. I was pleased to see some other faces across the room that I recognised including the exquisitely slim Vikki from Manchester and curvy Maria from the Edinburgh store. I also caught sight of one particular body I thought I recognised. It was the Dem from Sheffield who I did not get to meet because she was serving, but now she was only busying herself arranging coffee cups. I walked over to her, drawn to her figure like opposite poles of powerful magnets. Her long wavy blonde hair fell over her shoulders as she bent forward but she stood up as I approached her. “Hi, I've not been to one of these evenings before but I think I recognise you from somewhere. Do you work for Passionella?”

She smiled warmly and I desperately tried to keep eye contact as I sought to find any reason at all to look down at her breasts. She introduced herself as Abigail and she asked if I'd visited the Sheffield store. We chatted animatedly about how Sheffield had been regenerated since the decline of the steel industry. I drained my champagne glass and looked down at its empty state.

Her catsuit was far from empty and her magnificently large rounded breasts pressed proudly against the yielding stretch fabric. The positions of her nipples were clearly visible as they poked small peaks in the fabric and cast dark shadows. I just had to get her into a locked Private Room this evening, and I started to formulate a plan.

“Do you get down here very often? It must be difficult to get away from the store.” She agreed; she had only been twice this year. Continuing, I remarked, “They tell me the changing rooms here are much larger than the ones in the stores. Is that true?” Abigail bit. “Yes, there are eight in all. Some are larger than others and are better equipped. Once the main show is over I can show you some of them if you like?”

“Yes, thanks, that would be nice.” I couldn't wait.

“Julia, Hi.” Stevie had arrived at my side.

“I'm really sorry I couldn't meet you at the door. Excuse me, Abigail.” Abigail bowed out gracefully and chatted to some new arrivals she seemed to know well. The foyer was filling up fast and the atmosphere was filled with polite, enthusiastic conversation, expensive perfume and a buzz of electric anticipation. All around me were glamorous, attractive women covering a surprisingly wide age-group, overflowing with exuberance and sophistication.

Stevie passed me more food and filled my glass. “Did you get up to Edinburgh yet, to collect your black spider's-web set I reserved?” I told her I had but that I hadn't got around to trying it on.

Looking briefly over my shoulder, she put her arm around my waist and turned me to meet two other clients who had just arrived. “Julia, I'd like you to meet two of my other customers, Zoë and Yasmin. They are committed Passionella aficionados.” We made our introductions and it turned out that Zoë used to live in Paris and Yasmin is in recruitment – we got on really well. I guessed that these two tall young ladies were the cause of Fiona's disquiet. Seizing the opportunity, I changed the subject to ‘my favourite London store' and it turned out that Zoë's flatmate had recently started working as an assistant manageress in the Knightsbridge store where Stevie was working in the Passionella outlet. Zoë explained, “I used to shop in the Oxford Street store, I like their displays and the Dem there, Fiona is her name, is so polite and helpful. I feel bad about abandoning her but I like to meet my flatmate for lunch when I shop so I go to the Knightsbridge store now.”

I suggested to Zoë that she mention this to Fiona, just in case she had some special items put on one side for her. Without waiting for Zoë's agreement, I called Fiona over. “Fiona, Zoë was just telling me how much she likes your store displays and was wondering …” Zoë took up the lead instantly and soon I left the group of four talking and smiling.

Linda turned down the music and made an announcement.

‘Ladies, please make your way through to the showroom where we will soon be unveiling another exciting new range of Passionella underwear that is not yet in the shops. It is stunningly beautiful and highly sensual, as you have come to expect from Passionella. It will drive you and your partners wild with its subtly provocative styling, fabrics, colours and fit. I can assure you, the lingerie you are about to see modelled entirely and exclusively by Passionella employees feels as good to wear as it looks. I know, I have tried most of the items myself and all of your Passionella hostesses this evening are also wearing products from the new range under their uniforms. If you wish to stay after the show we have arranged some private viewings in our changing rooms where you can try and buy today. Alternatively, the new styles will be in the shops from Saturday where you can try them for size. Now, please, take your seats where all will be revealed.'

I didn't know how seriously to take that last remark.

Stevie took me by the arm and led me downstairs where we at a small table and were joined by another of Stevie's best clients. I looked around to see if all the Dems that I would recognise were there but a few were missing. Linda dimmed the room lights and turned up the music.

For the next 20 minutes we were all captivated by a highly professional display of the new alluring, sensual Passionella bodystockings. The range included long-sleeved, short sleeved, sleeveless and strapless styles. Some styles had high necks and others had deep plunging vee necklines. Several styles had very high-cut legs and a few were what I learned to call thong-back, which concealed nothing of the models' buttocks as narrow webs of lycra-mix fabric disappeared into their bum-cracks. One style I loved was almost non-existent – being sleeveless, deep-plunge-fronted, backless and thong-back all at once. It wasn't not much more than a few narrow strips of fabric and it was modelled by Rachel of all people. Her firm boobs were clearly visible both sides of the narrow front pieces which barely covered just her nipples and their shape remained virtually unchanged as she twisted, turned and leaned from side to side. I could see more of the lovely Rachel's naked skin than I had seen before, even in private, and it was gorgeous. No wonder she was so successful working at the photographer's studio. And she moved so provocatively too.

My mentor took the stage next and was altogether more modestly dressed in a high-necked bodystocking in opaque scarlet with long sleeves but with high-cut legs. She walked and stopped, then she crawled on all fours just as she did for me . She rolled over on the raised catwalk and purred – the audience loved it. I could clearly make out the shape of her smallish breasts through the fabric and everyone I am sure had noticed her swollen nipples.

Stevie asked to be excused but I hardly noticed her leave my side as at that moment the diminutive Vikki exploded onto the catwalk. Her exuberant and over-zealous personality may have been excessive in the Manchester store where she worked but was altogether much more fun here. She was wearing a pure white long-sleeved bodystocking identical to the one that Rachel demonstrated for me. But it looked totally different on her tiny form; it clung to her beautifully and her small boobs made captivating peaks if the lycra-assisted ultra-fine lace. Her pert nipples pointed upwards, straining at the fabric and drawing attention to themselves, also causing my pussy to draw attention to itself by sending signals of appreciation to my brain.

Vikki showed it off to perfection with a highly energetic show verging on the acrobatic. She stood very close to my table and lifted her left leg high in a move of which any ballerina would be proud. But her display was altogether much more erotic and as she held her pose I could clearly see the three buttons that secured the delicate material between her legs, hiding her most precious petals from view. I'd have loved to search for her fourth button. To enthusiastic applause, she darted off the catwalk.

We were then treated to a very entertaining show as four more models walked on stage in perfect step. Two I didn't recognise but the other two were familiar; Abigail and Helen from the Sheffield store. All four were still wearing their Passionella catsuits but soon they started to unbutton them in perfect time to the music. As they reached their last buttons, they helped each other in pairs to remove their suits to reveal four more lovely and flattering stretch bodystockings in a variety of styles and colours, to rapturous applause.

A subtle reduction in the tempo of the music accompanied a change to a more moody lighting scheme as the much taller silhouette of my hostess for this evening appeared at the back of the catwalk. Stevie walked very slowly and deliberately into view and my fellow clients in the audience fell silent. She had her hands clasped in front of her and she put one foot exactly in front of the other, step by step until she stood directly in the beam of a powerful spotlight, centre-stage. The audience gasped quietly and the hush was replaced by a murmur of appreciation that ran through the room.

Stevie was wearing an altogether much more erotic outfit made entirely from fine black see-through mesh. It had long sleeves and covered her completely from her shoulders right down her well-developed body, down her long legs and covering her feet. Her hands were bare and so was her face but not much else except for a narrow plunging vee between her boobs.

But, to my delight and seemingly most of the audience too, Stevie's enormous dark areolae were clearly visible through the sheer mesh of her bodystocking. A big cheer rose from the floor and Stevie lapped it up as she strutted up and down the catwalk deliberately thrusting forward her rounded 34D breasts, straining at the sheer material.

But there was more to come! Stevie moved back to the brightly-lit area on the raised dais and stood for a moment with her hands still over her crotch. She slowly moved her feet wider and wider apart, making eye contact with each client in turn and finally fixing her gaze on mine. Then she slid her hands gradually up onto her hips, half-closed her eyes and pouted at me. The room exploded in a cheer of approval as we all realised that the bodystocking had a neatly-edged opening cut out between the legs, about 2 inches wide and 4 inches long. Stevie's pussy was exposed for us all to enjoy, and it was completely shaved.

I hadn't noticed that she had smooth pubes when she modelled for me in the changing rooms. Maybe she'd shaved especially for this show? Whatever, the contrast of the black mesh and her pale, pale pussy-mound was striking. Stevie was so bold and confident and she walked around the three sides on the raised catwalk so we could all clearly see the piece de resistance feature of this latest Passionella product. I'm sure her pussy lips were slightly parted and the bright lights caught a glint of moisture on their edges. Stevie was enjoying the show as much as we were.

The finale of the show saw Stevie joined on stage by Rachel, Kirsten and Vikki in variations of the black-mesh theme. Rachel's was similar to Stevie's except it had a higher neckline but she was more modest and wore skimpy panties under hers to hide her pussy. Kirsten and Vikki were wearing variations on a high-leg leotard style made from more heavily patterned mesh, hiding their pubes and nipples but creating a more mysterious and tantalising image.

The volume of the music dropped to be replaced by appreciative applause and Linda took the stage. She thanked the girls for the show and agreed to calls for an encore, inviting them on stage again in their costumes to take a bow. Linda suggested that Stevie should bow carefully to ‘avoid any accidents'.

“You are now all welcome to stay on if you wish although I realise some of you need to get away. You may try on any of the products you have seen this evening or we will be pleased to meet you in our stores. If you must leave, please take a small evaluation form that you can fill in at your convenience, giving your opinion on this evening's show.”

“Those who can stay can enjoy some more food and drinks. Our Sales Demonstrators who modelled our new clothes so well this evening (more applause) will be here to give you a more private and personal insight into the new range of Passionella bodystockings. Thank you all for coming.”

After the show I chatted politely to some of the other guests, several of whom soon made their apologies and left. Charlotte was by the door to give out small ‘goodie-bags' that contained the survey form, a thank-you note personally signed by Linda, a small bottle of perfume, a skimpy diamante-decorated G-string and some luxury chocolates carrying the Pouting Lips logo. She also swiped each lady's Passionella card. I wondered what this evening cost them.

I had just reached for a glass of champagne and started to talk with an older but very elegant lady when a hand grasped me by my left arm. It's Fiona. “Hello. Ladies. Did you enjoy the show?”

The elegant lady said she'd enjoyed it immensely and would definitely be buying one of the more modest designs. She said she wouldn't be trying on anything tonight but would make an appointment with her usual Dem at her favourite store, which seems to be Regent Street. Fiona apologised “There's no-one from the Regent St store here this evening but I will make sure you are invited along for a personal viewing.” Elegant Lady departed, leaving Fiona and I together.

“Julia,” she commenced, “I owe you an apology too. I was a little rude to you when we met in the store this morning. I was having a bad day and had a lot to do before the show. I was actually on my break when you caught me.”

“Fiona, thanks. I had forgotten all about it” I replied.

“Oh, by the way, the dress looks wonderful on you this evening. Your judgement was impeccable.”

Fiona then dropped her voice. “Julia, I'd like to try to make amends, in another way.”

”What exactly do you have in mind?” I enquired.

“I'd like you to join me in one of the Private Rooms where I can show you the new bodystocking range and we can spend some more time together. I have the Silver room booked; it's very luxurious and well equipped. What do you say?”

“Fiona, that's very kind. I'd love to.”

Smiling, she took two more full glass of champagne and led the way. We passed Stevie disappearing into Gold with Yasmin on one arm and Zoë on the other

“You haven't been here before have you,” Fiona asked. Not wanting to lie, I replied, “You're right, I have never been to a show at Passionella before. “Then you will not have been in the private rooms.” I avoided the point. “There are four similar smaller rooms but Silver is one of the premium rooms.” She opened the door and waved me in. It is a very special room and is decorated entirely in white. All of the many high-quality fittings & fixtures are finished in bright polished chrome.

”Wow!” I exclaim, “Can you turn down the lights at bit?” Fiona obliged and closed the door, locking it behind her.

Fiona was wearing her corporate catsuit and sat on a long, low sofa. She patted the seat next to her and I sat slightly sideways with my knees firmly together. Fiona fiddled with her glass and seemed awkward.

To break the ice I remarked: “You were right about this dress. Look how it has ridden up.” Fiona looked down at the wide gash up the side of my thigh.

“You mean, when I said it is a little short?”

“Yes, just as you predicted, you can see my stocking tops when I sit down. Like this.” I wriggled back into the seat, feeling more at ease, “and a glimpse of bare flesh too, if I'm not careful. See?”

“Julia,” Fiona hesitated a fraction. “But you don't want to be careful, do you? You are not a careful person, are you.”

Leading her on, I remarked: “I like to take a few risks, if that's what you mean.”

“Yes, and you know you have a very attractive body so you can afford to. I can see you like to show it off.” How right she is, I thought to myself, convinced that Fiona was trying to charm me into an old-fashioned seduction.

“But Fiona, you have a lovely figure too, from what I can tell.”

“It's not quite what it was, Julia. I'm 38 now and it has seen better days. I realise I can't compete with the younger girls that Linda employs. You see, … ”

I interrupted and I wanted to encourage her. “But Fiona, not everyone likes these youngsters. Surely, some of Passionella's most wealthy clients are older ladies who have made their money and can afford beautiful lingerie to keep up their self-esteem and to bring a new spark into their relationships. Right?”

“Julia, you are very perceptive. But I like to think I have something extra to offer, something to offer someone like you.”

“You mean, maturity.”

“More than that, much more.” she purred with a new-found confidence and excited tone I hadn't heard in her voice before. I was just wondering what she had in mind when she stood up and walked to the chrome music system set into the white wall. She selected ‘Heard it through the Grapevine' and looked directly at me.

“Julia, I'd like to present the new Passionella bodystocking range.” And she started to dance.

Silver is a large room and Fiona made good use of the space. She danced sensually to the slow rhythm of Marvin Gaye and soon started to unbutton her catsuit. Expertly she loosened each fastening but kept me guessing as to what lay underneath. When all the buttons were free, she shrugged the suit from her shoulders and wriggled out of it. For a few seconds she stood motionless in front of me. I was speechless.

Fiona was wearing a very, very skimpy and revealing bodystocking. It had very high-cut legs so the sides only reached down only to her waist making her legs look longer and leaner, and a long narrowing web of blue-grey nylon that disappeared between her legs. The top was cut square across her upper body, just above her breasts, held up by two narrow shoulder strops that cut slightly into her soft flesh. The suit itself was made from a very open weave mesh so I could clearly see her nipples through the blue-grey mesh, as well as a large bush of pubic hair that seems to match her Scottish redhead locks.

“My, Fiona. that's lovely,” I remarked encouragingly, “I didn't see that design on stage. Turn around so I can see the back.”

Fiona turned slowly, looking at me teasingly over one shoulder all the time, so I could then see that the suit was cut very narrow at the back, outlining her prominent rounded buttocks.

“I'm glad you like it. Would you like to try on a similar design?

I nodded agreement.

“You'll need to undress so I can judge the style that will suit you best.”

I needed no further encouragement. Fiona slowly and seductively unzipped the side of my little black dress whilst keeping unblinking eye-contact then feasted her eyes on my underwear.

“Julia, you made a very good choice; that basque is perfect to wear under the dress we chose this morning,” she remarked, still in Dem mode.

To add to the effect, I tantalizingly adjusted my suspenders, putting one foot up on the sofa then the other, then I smoothed the basque down over my body.

“Better?”

Fiona was mesmerised by the time Marvin had finished singing. “Can I choose next?” I asked. Fiona nodded and I selected Lady Marmalade (the original Patti LaBelle version, of course). I started to move to the powerful beat but Fiona put her hands on my shoulders to indicate that I should sit down. “No, this is my show tonight.”

She walked to the other end of the room, to two chrome-plated poles I had not noticed before, each about 3 inches in diameter and set about 3 feet apart. To my amazement and intense enjoyment, Fiona then proceeded to put on a pole-dance show the like of which you couldn't pay good money to see in any London club. Fiona had something to prove – that her age was not a barrier, that maturity and experience still count for something, and that she could out-perform the younger girls.

I became really turned on as she twisted and slid down one of the poles. She wrapped her supple breasts around it and she rubbed her groin up and down its smooth shiny surface. I had to shift my bum on the sofa as I was getting really hot for her and I found myself caressing my breasts where they rose naked above my basque. Taking this as encouragement and appreciation, Fiona upped the stakes and sat on the floor. She placed her hands behind her at the foot of the two poles placed her own feet flat on the floor, wide apart, with her knees bent and gave me the most wonderful view of her sheer-clad pussy. She was panting by now as she rocked her hips to the beat.

“Julia, it's your night tonight if you want to have fun. To … enjoy yourself. Go ahead, it's OK.” She must have realised that I'd already begun to stroke my pussy through the thin fabric of my navy panties, but I had another plan.

“Fiona, I want to see you naked. I'd like to help you out of that bodystocking; it's so tight between your legs it must be really uncomfortable. I'll undo the four buttons for you.”

Fiona didn't say no and I guessed she probably knew what was coming. She lifted her bum off the floor and started to shake, partly from the strain of holding her pussy high in the air and partly no doubt from the anticipation.

“One … Two,” we chanted together. Did she know this routine?

“Three,” Fiona exclaimed. Yep, she knew.

“Four” I whispered, as I flicked her clit through the sheer material.

Fiona collapsed on the floor, spread-eagled on her back, moaning and smiling a contorted expression of deep emotion. She clutched the poles above her head and spread her legs even wider apart so I could flick my fingers across her aching but covered clitoris again, and again, and again, causing her to buck and writhe in pleasure and desperation.

“Fiona,” I said, deciding to cut the crap and go for the kill “this one is on me, for all you have done for me.

Fiona protested weakly. “No, you can't, no, the rules ... I have to ... you must … first you … ohhh, please, please, no. Oh yes, please, yes …”

I rubbed her clit in small circles oh-so-very-lightly through the thin mesh of the suit pulled tight between her legs. She cried out again and stretched her arms higher, pushing against the poles and forcing her lower body harder onto my probing finger.

Teasing her rotten, I moved it away.

She wriggled her buttocks towards me as I knelt between her legs and she stretched her legs even longer and wider apart, trying to make clit-on-finger contact again. The combined effect was to pull the suit harder up into the gash of her cunt which gaped wide open so her pussy lips swelled out on either side. The narrow strip of blue-grey nylon and lycra contrasted with her fiery-red pubic hair as it pulled tight over her mound and all but disappeared inside her as her labia enfolded themselves around it.

The sensation against her clit must have been excruciating. I was feeling her pleasure in own pussy but I ignored my own state of arousal; this moment belonged to Fiona. She needed this so badly to boost her self-esteem.

She rocked her hips back and forth and screamed as the stretch-nylon mesh rasped back and forth over her clit. “Oh Julia, please, please. Touch me. Help me. I can't … oh, I need to … I need to come but I can't. I mustn't. Oh shit … help me …”

“Of course I'll help you,” I said, slowly, just to delay the moment a little longer. I was sure that she could come just like this, by rocking and grinding her hips and frigging her clit up and down the tight crotch of her new-product-launch bodystocking. But her face was contorted into a pleasure/pain expression and her knuckles had turned white where she was gripping the poles.

I scraped a long, professionally-manicured fingernail along the web of nylon that had puckered to less than half an inch wide, intensifying the pressure on her clit and her arse-hole. Within moments of my fingertip making contact, Fiona screamed and shouted, bucked her hips and dragged her cunt up and down along the length of my finger before exploding into convulsions as an intense and noisy orgasm ripped through her.

(I was very close to orgasm myself, but I breathed deeply and successfully suppressed the feelings).

After a lying almost motionless on her back for several minutes in blissful calm, and having recovered physically if not mentally, Fiona stood up and rearranged her bodystocking. Her face carried a broad satisfied smile and a ruddy glow to match her dishevelled red hair matted across her face, telling me that she had just experienced something wonderful at my hand.

“Shit, Julia, where did you learn to do that,” demanded Fiona, echoing a newfound confidence.

Honestly, I told her: “From a friend of mine. I can't possibly say who, in case you ever encounter her in the course of your work.”

“Julia,” she continued, “are you sure you don't want to masturbate yourself? You know there's a limit to what I can do to help. I'm sure you've had the Passionella rules explained to you.”

I assured her I had but that I was fine and that I'd enjoyed her orgasm as if it was my own. In reality, I was still feeling incredibly horny and was having trouble thinking straight, but my evening was not over yet.

“Would you like to take a shower then?” she suggested, “there's one in here.”

Behind one of two doors at the far end of the room, Fiona showed me a white-and-chrome en-suite bathroom that would do justice to any luxury home. “Come on, join me. It will be fun,” and without waiting for my approval, Fiona released me by expertly removing my stockings and helping me out of my basque.

“I, erm … I need help with my buttons,” she explained. “Could you? Just the three this time please!”

Fiona leaned against one of the poles for support and spread her legs. I knelt down and met the heady aphrodisiac scent of her vagina that told it's own story. I carefully slipped the three buttons from their loops and Fiona finally pulled the bodystocking over her head. I stood and admired her full, ripe, rounded but still attractive 38-year old body.

I slipped off my damp briefs and dived under one of the twin sprays as Fiona soaped herself under the other. She lingered much longer than necessary on her pendulous breasts, ensuring that she had the cleanest nipples in London. I enjoyed watching her bathe as she sensuously massaged the lather over her skin; it reminded me of showering after sports at school.

We dried off (pure white towels, of course) and talked.

“Julia, you have made me very happy this evening. You see …” she hesitated, “I've been going through a bad patch recently. I'm not in a relationship at the moment, the last one went sour 3 months ago and, to be honest, … that was the first orgasm I have had since then.”

Fiona saw the look of shock on my face. “Really, it's not been that bad. But I've been getting very frustrated and it's been affecting my work. After this evening I shall look forward to meeting clients again. Thanks, Julia.”

Wow. We chatted some more, during which Fiona explained that she never masturbates, then dressed.

But I had a problem. “Fiona, I can't possible wear these navy panties again. I've stained them. Look.”

Fiona offered two suggestions. “I can find some from stock, I've loads to choose from in here.” She opened a drawer full of Passionella products. “Or, since you like to take a risk, don't wear any!”

As I was planning to rejoin the launch party in the reception area, the second idea sounded like fun. Fiona held up my basque so I could slip into it and smiled as I pushed my boobs out. Lovingly she refastened the hooks tightly down the front and helped me with my stockings and suspenders. Finally I encased myself in my little black dress and Fiona zipped me up. I felt fresh, clean, and randier than ever.

“Julia,” F observed, “you look good as new. I'd love to kiss you, but it's not allowed.” Instead she blew me a trademark pout.

Returning to the reception area, I found the party still in full swing. Virtually everyone was there. Emma, Linda, Charlotte and Rachel were all talking and laughing with clients. Of the senior staff, I couldn't see Kirsten but some of the other store Personal Shoppers were gathered in a small group, talking seriously. Of the Dems, Maria and Helen were at the centre of a lively group of clients. Vikki was talking with Abigail, who still had her blonde hair fixed up in a pair of schoolgirl pigtails from the catwalk show. She had most of the buttons of her catsuit undone so her ample breasts looked like they could easily escape from her purple bodystocking. In a corner, Yasmin and Zoë were wrapped in a passionate embrace together and snogging.

I was just about to interrupt Vikki when two strong arms gripped my waist from behind. I spun around to see the statuesque Stevie, perched on her ultra-high heels and looking down on me.

“Oh, Hi. I didn't see you earlier,” I lied. “I loved your performance on the catwalk.” I had forgotten how captivating I find Stevie to be. Now, memories of our session in the changing rooms the previous week came flooding back, how she had modelled that black strappy set for me, and I began to wonder if wearing no panties had been a good idea as warm juices flooded into my pussy. I feared the embarrassment of feeling a trickle of my own lube running down my inner thigh in front of all these people. But the more I embarrassed I felt, the wetter I became – it seemed I was enjoying the humiliation.

“Have you got a few minutes spare?” Stevie asked, “As this is your first time her I thought you might like to see the Private Rooms. Have you been in any?”

“Yes, thanks, just Silver, with, oh, what's her name? We just looked through some of the new bodystocking line, that's all.”

“Silver is one of my favourites but you must see the others. Come on.” I felt a hidden agenda coming on and I was loving it; Stevie was stimulating more than just my imagination. I was sure the ‘Polite & Formal Miss Passionella Dem' was just an act for the benefit of her colleagues and the other clients.

She passed Blue, Yellow and Green, which are all “Unavailable”, and opened the door to Red. “Like it?” she asked.

The room is a riot of bright reds and maroons, very 1960's pop-art style. “It's great, I love the rich warm colours. Red is such a, erm ..., stimulating colour isn't it.” I remarked. From memory, Red seemed to be furnished to a similar level of fittings and furnishings as Yellow where I met Rachel, but in a very different style. I was about to step further inside when Stevie took my arm. “Then you'll love this,” and led me to Gold.

She ushered me in and closed, and locked, the door.

My jaw dropped. If a middle-eastern prince with good taste and no budget limitations were to design a dressing room for his wife, this would be it. Everywhere was lavishly decorated in opulent shades of orange, with gilded and gold-plated fittings. The furniture was sumptuous and plentiful, consisting of three small sofas, a circular gilded coffee table, two upholstered chairs, two more chairs with padded seats and arms and a low upholstered chaise-longe. Against the back wall were two low padded stools and between them a rather complex-looking recliner chair, for want of a better description. All the available wall space was covered with mirrors; there were also two large mirrors on the ceiling and one small one set into the floor, surrounded by upward-pointing recessed lights. Towards one end were two doors and a pair of poles just like in Silver, except of course they were gold-plated.

“Stevie,” I exclaimed, “this is so dazzling, so, well, sexy.”

“Julia, that's why I brought you in here. Because that's exactly what you are. Dazzling, and sexy. And don't forget, we have some unfinished business. Julia, I've been aching to get you on your own ever since last week. I had such a good time modelling for you, and I'd like to take things a bit further, if you'd like to of course.”

I had become captivated by Stevie's personality once I'd got to know her a little, as well as by her body. Now I was alone with her in a locked room that screamed ‘fuck me' from every corner and my pussy was still alert after my time with Fiona. The fresh air circulating around its nakedness was doing nothing to cool my heightened state of arousal and Stevie was now reclining on one of the sofas, wearing her corporate catsuit unbuttoned to her waist. I could see she was still wearing the all-in-one bodystocking from the show and the shape of her full cleavage directed my eyes down her body.

“OK, you sexy little voyeur, so you can see what I'm wearing under my catsuit” Stevie observed, noticing my eye movements, then continued: “You saw everything I have to give, up on the catwalk, and now it's my turn. I want to know what you are wearing under that fantastic dress, Miss Julia my favourite client. Please?”

She was in for a surprise! I decided to milk the electric atmosphere all I could, so I sauntered over to the sofa opposite. I sat down very demurely with my knees together and my feet a little apart facing forward. I looked her in the eye and said nothing as I slowly leaned forward and put my elbows on my knees with my chin resting between my palms. Stevie's eyes darted momentarily to by boobs and back, several times.

Still holding her gaze, I swivelled by bottom on the sofa so my legs were side-on to her. I flicked my eyes down to where the side split in my dress was by now revealing a lacy stocking-top, then back to meet Stevie's gaze. On cue, Stevie glanced down for a moment to see my nylon-sheathed thigh, then smiled at me again.

I was breathing faster now and the excitement of this game of seduction was not lost on my pussy, which pulsed little messages up to my brain. My eyes must have been sending strong signals to Stevie. Slowly, ever so slowly, I shifted forward onto the front edge of the sofa, deliberately causing my dress to ride up and to expose a large area of the pale smooth flesh that existed above my lace-tops. My bum-cheeks were now bare and the side-split in my dress was now open right up to my waist and, had I been wearing even vaguely sensible panties, they would by now have been clearly visible. But I wasn't. I wasn't wearing any panties at all.

My eye-movements gave Stevie permission to glance down, which she did. She took longer than before to meet my gaze again and when she did she wore an excited, disbelieving, quizzical expression that asked ‘are you or aren't you?' But we did not speak.

Not content to simply demonstrate the captivatingly revealing splits in my dress, and the fact that I was naked beneath it, I became overwhelmed with a powerful desire to expose my pussy to Stevie. Totally, completely, openly. I felt so powerful and so uncontrollably excited by the idea. So I sat up straight with my hands on my hips and I slowly spread my legs. I spread them wider and wider apart and as planned my thighs opened the side-splits in my dress and pushed the hem higher still. Engaging Stevie's stare, I wriggled forward onto the very front edge of the sofa.

Stevie hadn't blinked for about two minutes and I made her wait just a little longer before I allowed her to glance down to confirm what she has already guessed. I nodded imperceptibly and she looked down between my legs.

The pale flesh of my inner thighs above the tops of my stockings led her eyes like a funnel to my naked and neatly-trimmed pussy-mound. She didn't look back up at me this time though, naughty girl. Instead she stayed captivated as, keeping my feet flat on the floor, I gently leaned back against the sofa cushions.

For my finale, I lifted my feet off the floor, hooked my hands behind my knees and pulled them as wide apart as they would go. I felt and heard the sticky moistness of my lubricant as my vulva spread open for Stevie to see every detail of my most precious possession. I felt fantastic and couldn't stop myself from shaking with excitement.

Stevie broke the erotically-charged silence. “Oh my.”

She paused.

“Oh shit.”

She shook her head slowly from side to side. “Oh, that's just brilliant,” and let out a long sigh.

“Julia,” she continued with a modicum of composure, “you fucking sexy teasing bitch. What are you trying to do to me? And what are you doing walking about at a Passionella party with no knickers on? We're supposed to sell lingerie and you prefer to wear nothing. What exactly are you wearing under that ‘tart's pulling dress'? Stand up so I can rip it off you, lady-killer.”

Me, I was just wallowing so deeply in the self-indulgent thrill of it all. I couldn't have got a better reaction from my American friend; I'd found a way to transform her hard, muscular body into a state of quivering subordination.

“Stevie, remember you said we have unfinished business?” I asked, provocatively.

“Yes, and we're sure as hell going to finish it here, right now,” Stevie replied, taking me by the hands and pulling me to my feet. She lifted my arms above my head roughly and reached for the side zip of my dress. Pulling it from bottom to top in one adroit movement, she all but tore the dress from me and I felt a thrilling rush of energy sear through me.

“Happy?” I asked, with hint of irony, as I stood before her in the navy basque I had grown to adore over the previous few days. I placed my feet a little apart and planted my hands on my bare hips. Below them there was nothing except suspender ribbons with their Lips clips, attached to matching stockings with deep lacy tops, and what nature had given me. No more and, since Monday, actually a little less, and my inner pussy lips were now peeping out to join in the excitement.

“Ecstatic. You look pretty as a picture, and you know what type of pictures I mean.”

I smiled and nodded as Stevie elaborated.

“Passionella has an arrangement with the photographer who takes our publicity shots. Clients can get a day's studio time complete with a stylist/dresser and access to a complete wardrobe of clothes, lingerie and accessories. You keep and pay for what you wear in the final shots, no other charges. As you'd expect, the clothes aren't cheap.”

“Just like buying them in the stores, with ‘free modelling time' included?”

“That's right.” Stevie confirmed. I said that I'd like to try it and promised to book a date before I left. Then I took charge again.

“Stevie, are you still wearing the bodystocking you modelled on stage?” She nodded.

“I'd like a closer look, please. Anyway, I'm feeling disadvantaged standing here almost naked.

“Help yourself, Julia,” offered Stevie, as she stood closer so I could reach her buttons. I undid the fastenings of her catsuit right down to her crotch and Stevie thrust back her shoulders to slip her arms out of the sleeves. Sitting low on her narrow ribcage, her D-cup breasts pushed against the bodystocking, once more allowing two large round shapes of her dark areolae to be seen through the fine nylon mesh.

I knelt in front of Stevie and pulled the catsuit down over her hips. She lifted one foot at a time and I eased the tight legs over her glossy-black spike-heeled shoes which she kept on. I was now kneeling with my eyes exactly level with the tops of her legs, which were of course still sheathed in fine black see-through mesh. And with her pussy, which wasn't. The edges of the small opening in her bodystocking had worked into the small creases where her outer labia meet the tops of her inner thighs so that her entire pussy was now visible.

“Stevie, was it your idea to parade your bare, shaven puss in front of us this evening?”

“Yes and no,” hesitated Stevie. “Charlotte – she's our marketing Manager - needed a volunteer for the ‘open' garments. Rachel our receptionist would only wear one if she could wear a thong underneath. I'm known as the one who's up for anything so I said I'd go naked. But it was a last-minute decision to shave my pubes. Even Emma, our personnel lady didn't know – apparently she's livid. See, I only shaved myself this afternoon. I've been ‘smooth' before but I'd let them grow back recently so it was a big surprise for everyone. Did you like it? Being so exposed in front of my customers made me feel really sexy, and it still hasn't worn off. Now, after seeing you so blatantly exposing yourself under your dress, I'm feeling so horny that I need to do something about it, and soon. What do you say?”

After my session with Fiona and now seeing and smelling Stevie's captivating body, I really had no choice. I just had to come, but I couldn't appear too eager. “Stevie, you're such a hot babe. I'd love to help you to come. What do you have in mind?” I asked, trying my best to still do the job I was paid for despite the urgent messages of abandonment rising up from my pussy.

“Have you ever rubbed your pussy against another woman's?”

“What, like embracing and pressing my mound against her pubic bone?”

“Well, no. I mean something much more intimate than that. More daring and altogether much more sexy. I call it Sisters In Scissors, but I think other girls use other names.”

“I don't know what you mean,” I protested, but I could guess. “You'll have to show me.” Stevie could have got fired for this so I couldn't leave myself open to accusations that I'd led her on. “But, are you sure that Passionella allows you do this sort of thing. Isn't this going to be outside the rules?” I ask.

“Sod the rules, Julia. They only apply if you get caught, and who will know?” retorted Stevie, brazenly.

What on earth was I going to tell Emma in my report?

“Come on, I'll show you a good time. Lie on your side, on the floor.” commanded Stevie.

I complied, propping myself on my right elbow. “Now, lift your left leg a bit so your pussy is open to me.” Stevie then crouched between my legs and sat her nylon-clad bum on my right inner thigh. She leaned back on her hands and took her weight on her feet. Then, she slowly moved her pelvis towards mine until her exposed pussy mound was just an inch or two away from mine. I closed my eyes and held my breath in anticipation of the first ever contact between my pussy and any bare flesh of any description belonging to another woman. Not even so much as a female fingertip had ever before touched my labia, my vagina, and especially not my clit and now they were all awaiting a positively electric contact with another woman's cunt. And not just any woman. A tall, confident, gorgeous, sexy American woman.

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes and saw that Stevie was gazing at my gaping vagina; from where she was sitting on my leg she must have been able to see it throbbing and pulsating in eager expectation. I desperately wanted her to move closer and go in for the kill, but I couldn't say so as I couldn't risk accusations of rule-breaking.

“Julia?” she finally said in a quizzical tone, “you know this would be so, so much more enjoyable for both of us if your pussy was, well, like mine. You know: smooth, totally naked, and accessible.”

“You mean, shaved?” I prompted with difficulty, as my mouth was dry and my voice shaky.

“Yes, Julia. Shaved clean and tidy.” She paused. “Julia, will you let me shave your pussy. Right here and now?”

How's that for a direct request? I hesitated and said that I would have liked to have had time to think about it, pointing out that I'd only just trimmed and tidied my curlies that very afternoon and protesting that I hadn't had time to get used to my new shape, let alone lose it altogether!

I stalled and acted demure so I didn't appear too eager, but in reality I was excited and totally sold on the idea. Not only the horny thought of acquiring a totally smooth mound but also having Stevie of all people shave it for me. This evening was turning out to be erotic beyond my imagination. So many unexpected things had happened, why not one more?

“Stevie, OK, I'd love you to,” I announced, “but do be careful, and be quick, won't you?” I urged.

We untangled our legs and stood up. Stevie led me to the bathroom and suggested I sit on a padded stool in one corner. She opened a cupboard (gold of course) and took out a pair of scissors, a shiny ladies razor and an aerosol can of foam. Holding the scissors, she knelt between my legs and looked up at me. “Sure?” she asked.

I nodded and she started to snip my hairs. My pussy was already so aroused that the feelings tracked through me like burning threads. She asked me to lift my feet off the floor and to open my navy-stocking-clad legs wider; I needed no encouragement and I grasped the towel rack to steady myself. I looked down; I could see my inner labia lips protruding invitingly from my gaping slit and I knew Stevie had trimmed away all she could when she liberally squirted foam onto the palm of her hand. I closed my eyes and flinched as the cold foam contacted my vulva. Finally, I felt her skilful razor strokes: “First following the direction of growth of the hairs and lastly ‘against the grain' to remove any remaining stubble,” she explained, in arousing detail.

Stevie washed my pussy with loving care and dried it with a plush white towel.

“There, done. What do you think?” she asked, holding a mirror between my legs.

I gazed down in wonder at my bare cunt, which I hadn't seen since I was about 12 years old and even then it didn't look like this! “Oh, Stevie. Thanks, it looks great.” I couldn't resist the temptation to run my hand over its gleaming smooth outer surface and I shivered as I felt it's fantastically sexy texture.

“Do you want to test-drive it now?” asked Stevie in her characteristically forward manner.

I was feeling so excited I was like a small child running home to play with a new toy. I grabbed Stevie's hand and dragged her back into Gold Private Room. I stopped for a moment and stood astride the illuminated mirror set into the floor. I crouched and gazed down in awe; I never knew a pussy could look so inviting, not even mine. The contrast of my milky-white flesh against my stockings emphasised my newfound nudity. I saw a pulse of juice ooze from the hidden depths of my pouting vagina and watched as it fell on the mirror. Stevie smiled.

We soon took up our positions again and in moments we were frantically rubbing our pussies together. The feeling was terrific although my fleshy mound was a little sore from its recent shaving, and it didn't take me long to reach the threshold of my long-awaited orgasm. Sensing that Stevie was not far behind I changed down a gear and rotated my clit slowly against hers. We changed positions to maximise the sensation and gyrated, rocked and thrust our hips together. Our nylon-clad legs were entwined together and our cunts were slippery, coated with our intermingled juices. I pulled Stevie's left knee hard against my basque-encase chest and shuddered as I felt the spiked heel of one of Stevie's shoes press against my back between my shoulder-blades. Without thinking, I puller her other foot up to my mouth and licked my tongue along the long length of her high spiked heel.

Stevie panted and gasped, supporting her weight on one hand and grasping at her boobs with the other. She tore at her bodystocking and freed one firm breast, pinching and pulling its nipple until it was long and erect, gathering much of its surrounding large areole into a tight, dark, puckered peak. I felt rivers of perspiration running down my body inside my basque as its tightness constricted my waist and rib-cage making it hard for me to breath.

The feeling of the soft slippery flesh of Stevie's pussy on my own naked skin was too much for me and I fell over the edge into a deep satisfying orgasm. I thrashed my legs and pressed my cunt hard against Stevie's and she came just moments later with a shout.

We collapsed in a tangle of clenched thighs, hers still encased in her bodystocking and mine a sweaty tangle of bare flesh, suspenders and lace. I felt absolutely wonderful.

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

When we had composed ourselves I stood up and helped Stevie to her feet. She thanked me and I returned this and other compliments. I had lost track of time but was feeling more than a little shattered and told Stevie I planned to leave now and go home.

“But Julia, you haven't even bought anything yet!” she protested.

I realised that I needed to buy something so Stevie could charge me for ‘services rendered' so I agreed to choose from the new bodystocking range. Stevie found my size in a high-leg design similar to the one that Fiona wore earlier in the evening, but in an opaque dark-grey lycra/cotton fabric. I detached my suspender ribbons one by one and peeled myself out of my tight basque, which was becoming uncomfortable after all the evening's excitement and activity. I sighed with relief as my breasts broke free from their restraints; they hung down in enticing cones as I bent to remove my stockings and Stevie watched them admiringly. I declined her offer to join her under a hot shower and dressed. The bodystocking fitted me well and I took care to arrange the fabric over my bare pussy to protect it from the chill of the evening air. With my dress over the top, only its narrow shoulder straps were visible and did not look out of place.

I thanked Stevie again for everything she had done for me and to me and left the room to call a cab home.

The reception area was quiet now and most other clients had left. Yasmin & Zoë were still animatedly talking and making physical contact in ways that would intrigue the body language experts and several of the Dems were sitting in a group. But as soon as Vikki and Abigail saw me they stopped talking and waved me over. I explained that really I needed to leave but, fortunately, they were most insistent. I'd almost forgotten that one of my main aims of the evening had been to get some Private Room time with voluptuous Abigail.

“Julia, we've hardly had time to speak this evening.” commented the curvaceous Abigail.

Vikki continued: “It seems you have called in both of our stores during this week and we'd hoped to get to know you better, if you understand. Please stop a little longer and we can have a coffee.”

Abigail took up the role of chief persuader, seductively toying with her pigtails as she spoke. “I checked and Silver room is free now. We can sit quietly and relax; I'll bring in a tray of coffees and some launch-party cake. OK?”

Abigail gave me no option, so I agreed. I needed a rest and a coffee and the Silver room was very comfortably furnished. “OK, just a quick chat and I'll be getting away.” Inside I doubted this would be all they had in mind.

We did talk for a while and I got to like them both a lot. I'd not been able to speak with Abigail in the Sheffield store and I found her amusing and approachable. But I couldn't keep my eyes off her breasts and she knew it. She had her catsuit unbuttoned to her waist, exposing a deep inviting cleavage, and she apologised for her debauched state “It's hot work at these shows” she explained, in between sensuously sucking the buttercream cake filling off her fingers one at a time.

Vikki noticed the straps of my newly-purchased bodystocking and asked which design I had on although I'm sure she could have deduced this. She complimented me on my choice. Then in what I took to be a well-rehearsed move, she and Abigail stood up together and announced: “we thought you'd like to see one last show before you go. Abigail and I are wearing suits in two new colours you might not have seen before.”

Without waiting for my agreement, Vikki turned up the music volume and they walked together to the far and of the room. They then treated me to a polished, obviously well-rehearsed and very sensual display of synchronised pole-dancing during which they caressed each other's bodies and undressed each other down to their bodystockings and footwear.

Abigail was wearing a purple sleeveless style with a deep vee-front and high-cut legs. Vikki's was shimmering silver but was much more demurely styled with a high round neck, long sleeves and legs cut low on the tops of her thighs, reminiscent of tight French knickers. But whereas Abigail wore sexy high-heeled strappy shoes underneath her catsuit, Vikki was wearing very tight-fitting knee-length boots in supple black leather, pulled tight with laces down the outsides.

I sat on the sofa and applauded them but Abigail put her finger to her lips. “Julia, I've noticed you looking at my breasts. Do you like them?” I nodded. “Well, you'll love this,” and she immediately slipped her purple bodystocking off her shoulders and peeled it all the way down her ample body and over her feet. She was right – I loved it all!

Vikki handed her a small bottle and she poured some liquid into her hand. Abi then proceeded to rub slippery massage oil into the soft flesh of her large heavy but only slightly drooping breasts until they gleamed under the highly-focussed ceiling lights. She lifted each one to massage under it and she paid very special attention to her nipples that, though not large, pointed slightly downwards in intense buds. I continued to enjoy the show and Vikki whispered words of encouragement.

Abigail then stood behind her pole with her knees either side and cupped her lovely boobs in her hands. She wrapped them round the pole as if it was a long fat prick and she started to slide them up and down it. Then she poured more oil in her cupped hand and smoothed it up and down the pole between her thighs as if she was giving it a wrist job. Bending her legs at the knees she masturbated the oily pole in her ample cleavage with a look of ecstasy on her face and each time she squatted she also rubbed her pussy on its slippery surface, closing her eyes in concentration.

“Abigail, you know you should not behave that way in front of clients,” Vikki reminded her in a gentle voice. Abi pouted at her in dissent and replied: “I can't help myself, I'm feeling so fucking randy, OK? I'm going to fuck my cunt with my fingers and if she wants me to I'll fuck Julia's cunt too.” She looked at me with a smile. The show was a little contrived but I was enjoying myself too much to complain.

“But Abigail, you must stop yourself, ” repeated Vikki. “It's against the Passionella rules.”

“Well, Vikki, I just can't stop myself, so you're going to have to stop me.”

Vikki seemed to know exactly what to do but I could only look on in amazement at the tableau unfolding before me.

“Abigail, yes I will. I'm going to have to punish you for your disobedience and I'm going to have to stop you from fucking that pole, yourself and our guest. Hold out your hands,” commanded Vikki.

Abi reached out in front of her whilst Vikki opened a drawer, pulling out some white leather cuffs with chrome buckles. She strapped a cuff on each of Abi's wrists and then one around each of the poles, high up, above the level of the slippery oil.

“Stand between the poles, Abigail” she commanded and Abi obliged. Vikki clipped each wrist cuff to a pole cuff so her captive could only stand with her arms stretched upwards and outwards. She could not slide the tightened cuffs down the poles and she could not escape from them; she certainly could not touch herself with her hands. Nor me.

“Vikki, I'm sorry, don't restrain me any more. I won't do it again,” Abi pleaded.

“Abigail, I'll make sure you don't,” retorted Vikki.

Abi's ‘shoes' were little more than just narrow straps between her toes and around her heels but these were attached to wide leather bands buckled around her ankles. Conveniently and rather kinkily, these had large metal rings at the back and Vikki clipped these to cuffs that she had bound tightly to the bottom of the poles. Abi was a remarkably cooperative prisoner and did not resist.

She was now spread-eagled in a large ‘X' and could hardly move. Her prominent boobs, smooth and glossy with massage oil, were pulled up and apart, lifted by her chest muscles as she stood with her arms stretched above her head. Now they hardly drooped at all and they moved sensually as she struggled in vain. Her pubic hairs glistened with the oil that had rubbed onto them from her pole and I could see that her vulva was slightly parted. Her entire pussy seemed to be larger than any I'd seen before, in keeping with her voluptuous body.

“But Vikki, I feel so horny and now I can't even masturbate. But I know what I do want.”

Vikki asked her to explain. “I want Julia to make me come. I want her to suck my nipples and rub my tits. I want her to slap my arse and lick my pussy and I want her to suck my clit till I reach orgasm.” She looked straight at me and asked: “Julia, will you fuck me, like that? Will you?”

I was taken aback by her forthright manner, but I had to admit to myself that I found the idea not wholly unattractive. I blushed and I stalled for time: “But, I er, …”

Vikki saved me. “You know she can't do that, you depraved tart. Passionella will not allow it. In fact, I may have to punish you for even suggesting it and embarrassing our guest.”

Abigail spoke again. “Well, will you help me then, Vikki?” she pleaded, in a wavering voice.

“Do you really want me to help you to come? Do you, Abigail?” Vikki taunted.

“Yes, oh, yes, I do. Yes, please,” replied the restrained Abigail, twisting and pulling against her taught cuffs. This was no longer just a show, pretending to be real life; this was now real life only masquerading as a show

Vikki said nothing, but I watched in amazement as she walked over to the bank of drawers along one side wall of the Silver private room. She reached into one and produced a lined wooden box containing a huge shiny chromed dildo. It must have been about 13 inches long and 2 inches in diameter at one end and tapering down to, say, 1½ inches near to the other before thinning quickly almost to a point. The thick end featured several black raised rings that were probably designed to make it easier to grip. It had the proportions of a very large phallus but no attempt had been made in its manufacture to emulate the authentic shape and detail of a man's penis.

Without a word, and holding the large phallus firmly, Vikki stood in front of Abigail who again pleaded with her: “Fuck me, Vikki, I want you to fuck my cunt with that fat thing, bitch …” She sounded more serious now; yes, the game really was over and the action was about to begin. I was shocked by the explicitness of her language but was becoming increasingly turned on by the whole scenario.

Abigail continued: “… but it's too big for my hole, it will hurt me, unless it is very well lubricated before you push it in me. Can't you rub it on your pussy first, to make it slippery with your juices?”

I waited to see what Vikki would do, realising that I was squeezing my thighs together as I perched on the sofa, to amplify the pleasurable feelings welling up inside my own pussy. Well she did exactly what Abigail had asked her to do. First she peeled off her silver bodystocking revealing the petite, pert body I had seen briefly in the Manchester store, but she kept her boots on. Her small tight bum looked exquisite, really very small, with probably 33” hips.

Next she sat on the floor in front of Abi, facing me and with her back to her friend, and opened her own legs wide apart. Then she leaned back between Abigail's forcibly-parted feet so her face was right under the larger woman's arse. Her small breasts all but disappeared as gravity flattened them over her rib-cage, but this only accentuated her pink, erect and awesomely suckable nipples as they probed directly upwards, begging for attention.

Vikki took her weight on one hand and slowly guided the shining phallus down her belly towards her waiting, blossoming vulva. I could see her juices glisten under the focussed spotlights and I panted with her as she rubbed the rod up and down her slit. She rotated it a little with each stroke and soon it too was coated with her juices, sparkling under the bright lights.

“Ready now?” she asked.

“No. This is unfair,” protested the voluptuous, captive Abigail. “I need to come for Julia, but it's going to be so hard and it's going to take so long with my legs held apart so cruelly. I expect you'll rub your clit whilst you fuck me and you will come first. No, your legs should be spread wide apart too. That will make it just as difficult for you to come as it will be for me, because you won't be able to clench your thighs to intensify the feelings.”

Abigail's voice was plaintive and genuinely agitated; I understood her frustrations.

Now Vikki looked at me. “Will you help?” she asked.

My heart leapt.

Wondering what might be expected of me, the client for whose entertainment the two lovely girls were performing, I nodded. “What can I do?”

“Open that wardrobe,” instructed Vikki, gesturing to the side wall. “Inside are some spreader bars. Choose one. Then, I want you to attach cuffs to my ankles and attach them to the rings you will find on the ends of the bar.”

Following my instructions with a combination of trepidation and excitement, I selected a bar about 18 inches long. It was chrome-plated and rigid but light.

“No. Longer,” demanded Abigail.

I found one half as long again and held it up for approval.

“No, the longest,” Abigail protested, “So Vikki's feet are as wide apart as mine.”

Vikki did not object.

I took out a 3-foot-long bar and located more white cuffs in the drawer which I strapped around Vikki's leather-booted ankles. Vikki had to really stretch to get her feet to reach the ends of the bar so I could clip the cuffs onto the rings. She relaxed as best she could and strained against the bar, complaining: “Abigail, you bitch. This is so cruel .”

“Yes, and don't you love it!” replied Abi from her vulnerable position still secured to the poles. By the expression on Vikki's face, she was right.

“ Now you can fuck me!”

I propped Vikki on some cushions to make her more comfortable then sat on the floor to watch from my vantage position.

Once more Vikki slowly rubbed the dildo on her pussy, which was even juicier and certainly much wider open than before. Then and lay back half-reclined on the cushions with her face just below Abigail's pussy. She raised the lubricated phallus and very, very lightly touched the tip against Abigail's inner labia.

Abi cried out and jerked, tugging at her restraints. I felt a bolt of sexual stimulation hit me bang in the centre of my pussy, as though Vikki's huge phallus had just touched my clit. I shifted on the floor and adopted a position in sympathy with the two girls with my knees apart.

“Yes, Julia, spread your legs wide open. Let me see your sex,” encouraged Abigail. I did, and what she didn't see of course was pubic hair. What she did see though was the narrow crotch of my bodysuit bunched up and disappearing into my cunt between swollen, smooth and very bare outer pussy lips. She would have known that I was getting very, very excited and that I couldn't wait to see, close-up, what would happen next.

I didn't need to.

Vikki slowly ran the tip of the shiny dildo back and forth along the length of Abigail's open vulva. Then, placing the thumb of her other hand just above the top of her slit, she eased the tender flesh upwards, gently pulling back the soft moist skin of Abigail's delicate clit hood. Right before my eyes, Abigail's smooth pink clitoris emerged invitingly from under its shroud.

I had never seen another woman's pussy in such close-up, graphic detail before and Abigail's looked absolutely gorgeous. From my advantageous position I feasted my eyes on her open, engorged labia that hung down between her legs and watched intently as beads of moisture erupted from her exaggerated inner folds.

I was sure I could see the smooth, rounded bud of her clit pulsing and growing more erect before my very eyes, just as I could feel the same things happening to mine. But Abigail's clitoris looked much larger than mine appeared to be whenever I'd held a small mirror between my legs to see. Hers looked big, angry, hot, hard and eager. I could almost feel the heat as it drew attention to itself, anticipating the pleasure it craved, almost as though it had a personality of its own.

Vikki circled the tip of the dildo around the opening to Abigail's vagina, slowly counting out aloud from 1 to 5. Abigail shuddered with anticipation during the agonising wait, then she bucked and moaned a long sigh of satisfaction as Vikki slowly slid the dildo up her gash until it touched her huge, exposed, waiting clit.

Then Vikki repeated the cycle, counting: “1, 2, 3, 4 …” Each time, Abigail's pussy lips folded around its tip like a child sucking on an ice-lolly and she writhed and pulled against her cuffs each time that, on the tantalising count of 5, Vikki homed in on her sensitive clitoris.

Abi moaned loudly and started to lose coherence: “Oh, yes, rub it on my … yes, slowly just like … quickly, oh yes. Oh no, don't put it inside me. Just slide it, like that … shove it in me, bitch, push it … no, oh yes … please, don't … yes …”

Somehow Vikki knew exactly what Abigail wanted as she slid and rubbed and turned and slowed and quickened. I thought that these girls must know each other very, very well and enjoy an almost telepathic empathy.

Finally, when I was beginning to think it would never happen, Vikki pointed the dildo directly at the opening to Abigail's welcoming vagina, with the tip inserted just between those hugely swollen inner labial lips. She rotated it few more times and I could clearly see Abi's thick creamy cunt juices streaming out onto it, lubricating its length in readiness for the final assault.

Would Vikki tease Abigail by sliding it in a little at a time and backing off? Would she twist and turn the tool as she reamed her colleague's cunt, or would she simply push it all the way in, in one smooth powerful movement?

My pussy ached and I wished it were me she was going to screw. I yelled: “For fuck's sake push it in her, stop teasing, bitch,” and I was shocked at what I had said. I was struggling to keep my legs apart; I so wanted to squeeze my thighs together and I wanted to rub my clit so badly.

Finally Vikki thrust the tool into Abigail's gaping cunt in one long, slow, steady and controlled movement. It entered easily and filled her void as she cried out and bore down on it within the limited movement afforded her by her leather restraints. She ground her hips in circles and she moaned a deep, primeval moan. Rivulets of perspiration were running down her body, between her breasts and down over her rounded tummy.

Vikki slowly withdrew the phallus and I could see how wet Abigail had made it with her woman's lubricant before she slid it back in, a little quicker this time. Out again and in, out then in, she teased and she fucked and she rotated and she paused. She denied Abigail the promise of a predictable rhythm and her victim could only squirm and squat a very little as she tried to gain the satisfaction she so badly needed.

Imperceptibly, Vikki settled into a smoother tempo and was by now also rubbing her own clit with her free hand whilst rhythmically tensing and relaxing the muscles of her inner parted thighs. On every seventh stroke, Vikki withdrew the dildo from its hot wet sheath and brushed the tip over Abigail's clitoris, causing her to gasp and to buck her pelvis to magnify its movement, before retuned it to the clutching, engulfing depths of her massive vagina set central between her heavy, clenching thighs.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 …” she whispered and each time on the count of “7” Abigail shouted even louder.

Abi's body rippled as she strained harder against the cuffs and her glistening breasts swayed and bounced alluringly as she struggled. “Please, oh please finish me off, you cruel tormentor,” she pleaded as she tilted her head forward to look down between her breasts at Vikki beneath her and causing her damp pigtails to fall forward over her shoulders. “Fuck my cunt, bitch.”

I was still wearing my black dress but it had ridden up above my waist as I was now furiously frigging myself against the fabric of my bodystocking. I was sliding my bum back and forth on the floor in sync with Vikki's teasing rhythm, causing the crotch of the suit to rasp over the surface of my pulsating clit. I would have loved to have ripped it off or even just pushed it to one side to bare my pussy so I could rub myself to a climax with my fingers but I was determined to explore my ability to come without any direct skin contact.

I was thinking about Linda and about my appointment with Kirsten at the weekend where I was to attempt the impossible, to come with no physical stimulation at all. This evening I was pretty close to achieving this dream and it took only a few more rubs of the fabric along my pussy to bring me past the point of no return. My orgasm arrived excruciatingly slowly; the effect of keeping my legs apart seemed to be to delay the moment when I finally tipped over the edge. To help it along, I writhed on the carpet and yelled obscenities at the two horny girls who were performing for my benefit, and their own.

As soon as I let go they both cried out in release and came noisily. Abigail did what she could to increase her own pleasure as Vikki thrust the dildo deep and hard into her. The grip-rings around its shaft banged into her vaginal entrance and Vikki grazed her thumb over Abigail's clit at the end of every in-stroke. Vikki continued to rub her own clit to extract every last drop of enjoyment from her climax and tried in vain against the restriction of the spreader bar to close her leather-clad legs to squeeze her pussy.

When Abi's climax had subsided, Vikki slowly withdrew the tool and I gasped in awe when I realised how much of the thick, chromed phallus she had taken into her body; at least 9 inches I estimated, maybe more.

Abi slumped down, taking her full weight on her tethered arms, whilst Vikki lay back, her legs still bound to her spreader bar. I released the much larger and heavier girl from her poles, feet first then hands, before also freeing Vikki's much slimmer ankles. Both girls thanked me for indulging them in their fantasies and said that they hoped I had enjoyed myself too.

What did they think I'd been doing all the time? Faking it?

We were all feeling a little sore, and Abi in particular rubbed some cream into her wrists and ankles as Vikki finally took off her lovely long leather boots. Both girls looked so fantastically sexy now as they were totally naked. I stripped too and we showered together.

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

I was feeling totally drained so I said my goodbyes to the few remaining guests in reception. Yasmin and Zoë had just emerged from the Red private room with Charlotte and Rachel and I noticed Emma and Linda disappeared together into the Black room.

Kirsten was clearing away some plates. Remembering that I was still supposed to be playing my Client role, I discreetly offered to share a cab back to our apartments. She jumped at my suggestion, adding: “The caterers will be here first thing, they will clear up. I don't suppose anyone from the office staff will be in ‘til late morning!” No doubt she was speaking from experience.

We hardly spoke in the cab but agreed to meet at the health club at the weekend.

“Are you still game for our ‘experiment' on Saturday evening?” she asked as I climbed out of the vehicle.

“Can't wait” I replied with a smile. It was now nearly midnight.