Following about a week of added tears, drawn out conversations, further thinking and wasteful hoping, yet again, I was honestly of the notion that we were getting somewhere, but instead, his narrow mind remained as it had always been – shut—and he declared that he was still unable to bring himself to being with me after I’d slept with someone other than him. The worst part about just that was that it was mainly because the guy I had dared share a bed with me was not white! Can you believe that shit?! So I then newly discovered he was a tad racist on top of being an unloving twat!
Then...then...just two days following that, he invited me over for dinner. This was shortly followed by exactly what he said he bring himself to doing – sleep together. Evidently, this very much led me to believe, and why the hell wouldn’t it, that he’d somehow gotten over his parochial ways and changed his mind realising that he could in fact be with me and at least try starting over again. But oh no, instead, it turned out his ego went into override, his brain became mashed potato and his cock decided to do his thinking for him. He merely wanted ‘ex-sex’.
Basically, he fucked me—unfortunately, not in the climaxing kinda way – all over again. Holy fuck-balls can you believe the cheek of this detached, mind-torturing, ill-treating, advantage-taking, heart-mashing dickhead?!
Anyway, rant over. It’s taken me an obscene number of years to get over him, or at least reach of point of peace with all of that. And even to this day, it still plays on my mind—thankfully, just not every second of every disconcerting thought-filled day.
So how I think of it is...after that relationship alone – and don’t even get me started on the shit-stain for an ex-husband—I think I most definitely deserve an insatiably audacious adventure, an impudent taste of freedom, and a dash of intrepid promiscuity to help melt away all of my prudent inhibitions.
My uncontrollable thoughts begin to bring me down so I call my mother.
“Mom, I feel so alone and helpless; as completely hopeless as a used moth-eaten pair of undies.” She laughs endearingly at me.
“Ah Bugsy.” She’s called me that since I popped outta her womb. She doesn’t even know why either.
“You are the most resilient person I know. And the last time I checked, you were not only absolutely stunning both to the seeing eye and even more so down in that beautiful, selfless, caring heart of yours, but also such a determined, ambitious and bloody persistent woman who always does things and gets things done! You’ve been married, you dumped the dick and you came out of it stronger than I’ve ever known you to be. You’ve built a good life for yourself, you’ve certainly helped me become who I am, you’ve immigrated to another country for god sake—for which I still hate you by the way,” she laughs.
“You’ve even been a contestant in the Gladiators game show for shit sake! Albeit, you were unfit, crap and therefore lost!”
“Er, yeah, I totally got beaten to shit!”
“Er, yeah,” she mimics me, “but you went in, you gave it your all and you were fortunate enough to experience such a great opportunity! It’s a hell of an achievement! You had to lose or you’d have lost out on your immigration visa had you won and stayed. It was worth it for the fun of it; the excitement of being on TV, but it would never have been worth missing an even bigger life-altering opportunity had you stuck around to run through a gauntlet of over-sized, muscle men and women. Now quit feeling sorry for yourself, stop moping and enjoy your wonderful life. It’s not as bad as you think. Someone will come along that’s right for you. You just have to stop searching for it. Let it happen naturally; the right way at the right time for you. You’ve always believed in the right timing so get back on track love.”
“Aaaaaaaaargh! You infuriate me with how right you are. Damn you woman! But know this. You are not always right, just because you’re a mother!” I tease her, giggling. I begin to feel better about things. She’s always managed to do that. No matter how down I am, no matter how uncontrollably I’m crying, no matter how angry, she’s always brought me right back to where I should be.
“I love you loads mommy. Thank you. I gotta shoot now though. Got plenty that needs doing. Chat soon.” Yeah, I got loads of shagging to attend to!
Chapter 6
After a cool soothing dip under the waterfall for a shower, I snuggle into my fancy robe, sprawl across the bed and reach for the hotel Welcome Pack. It’s a soft squidgy gold folder clipped together with one of their silver trademark key charms. The first page is a note from the owners welcoming guests to the fortress of sexual fantasies. The second is contact details, in the very unlikely event we were unable to get in touch with our dedicated host. The third page contains details and price lists for the selection of boutiques, a massage parlour and the beauty salon. Ooh, must get my hair done. Oh my god they have hot tubs. Oh hold on, how did I miss this?! They even have two theatre rooms projecting all day 3D porn films.
It goes on to provide meal times which are served daily at 8am, midday and 7pm in the main dining area. I think I’ll pop out for dinner tonight. It might be good to meet some of the other singles. It even mentions the local off-site amenities too. Like we’d even need to leave this passion palace! I mean they have everything here, who’d WANT to go anywhere else? In fact, I want to bloody LIVE here! Then – they’ve obviously saved the best for last – descriptions of each of the experience rooms. Ooh lala mamasita...I likey very muchly!
Time had flown. A little after 5pm and I dial Natalie, as she’s my host for the day.
“Hi Ms Bentley, how can I assist?” she answers promptly.
“Hey Natalie, firstly, please call me Gemma, that whole ‘Ms’ thing is far too upper class for me,” I say laughing.
“Secondly, I’m considering having dinner in the main dining area tonight. Er, I’m just a little nervous about going on my own having sadly and unexpectedly, yet pleasingly, come here unaccompanied. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind introducing me to a few of the other single guests who’ve come here on their tod too?”
“Of course. I’ll make all the arrangements. Can you be ready for 6.30pm?”
“A little tight for time but yes, sure, shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Great, then I’ll come and collect you and we can make our way there together. How does that sound?” she asks.
“Spot on, thanks.”
I order up a bottle of champagne—a large one this time. After all, it’s on the house! Or should I say, on the mansion.
I begin getting myself ready. I think it’s going to be a slightly more civilised evening so I put on a red g-string, some black hold-ups, a sexy LBD, and red stilettos – no bra. My nipples fiercely piercing through; kindly directing me to wherever I need to be.
6.30pm sharp, I just about shit myself at the sudden knock at the door. My heart thumping rapidly, feeling rushed, I answer. I grab my red clutch bag and shut the door behind me.
Natalie and I arrive at the bar. We hover in the doorway as she tries to locate the group. Shit, they’ve really gone all out. I gawp at the eye-catching centrepiece of the room; an extremely long translucent chandelier dangling from the ceiling. Jeez, talk about a showpiece. I could probably touch it if I stood on my tiptoes and reach high enough. It’s that long.
In each corner of the room, on top of round thick slabbed golden pedestals stood naked statues. Wow, they look so life-like. I walk over to the nearest one, a female version, and touch its boob. Why I decided to touch its breast is a question I will probably never be able to answer.
Again, I just about crap myself and yank my hand back as if it’d just been bitten by a dog. I’m very quickly brought to the realisation they’re real humans! The female whose squidgy boob I just randomly pressed against, smiles down at me and winks.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
I continue to watch as every 30 seconds or so they change their poses. Crapping hell that must be exhausting.
There’s a small stage to the front for the cabaret show due to start in fifteen minutes. It’s b
ustling with many guests being served by topless waitresses and bottomless waiters. Holy hell! I’m astonished into a jaw-dropping reticence, then I notice Natalie waving over to a small group—three guys and one woman. Shit, they all know each other. This is so uncomfortable. She introduces us all.
“Thanks for getting together everyone. I thought it might be a nice idea if some of you met each other, as I know how discomforting it can be coming here on your own. But really there’s no need. You’re all here for the same reason, so at least you have that in common, right?” Natalie says as she breaks the ice for us all.
“Gemma, meet Walt, he’s one of our monthly regulars. Lexi, is a new-comer just like you Gemma and Alex, sorry Alex, I’ve not properly met you myself yet. I’m Natalie, one of the hosts here. Welcome.” She shakes his hand.
“Everyone, I am pleased to introduce you to Gemma.” There’s an echo of hellos and a number of extended hands awaiting my attention.
“I’ll leave you all to enjoy your evening Ms Bentl’...sorry, Gemma. If you need anything else, you know my number. Have fun everyone.” She exits the bar.
“So,” I say as I turn to face the group. “How’s everyone finding it here?”
“Ja well I dunno about you lot hey but I’m in sex heaven,” Walt pipes up and we all laugh. He has an accent; it’s familiar. I’ll wait until he says more before I comment as it’s a little mixed. Can’t tell if he’s Dutch, possibly German or even Afrikaans speaking.
“Did you all come here together?” I ask.
“God no, I don’t know these guys, but I certainly hope to by the end of tonight!” Lexi says teasingly.
“Oh thank fuck. When I first walked in and saw you all together, I shat myself. I thought you already knew one another.” I say taking a gulp of my cocktail.
“No way hey bru!” Walt chuckles. I smile as I immediately place his intonation. The word ‘bru’ gave it away. He’s South African; Afrikaans. It’s our second language. Thankfully, someone I have some common ground with. I surprise him with a little bit of Afrikaans of my own.
“Bly te kenne! Waarvandaan kom jy?” I say in his direction.
“Ah no way ekse!” He roars with excitement. “Ek kom van Suid-Afrika af. Ek woon in Pretoria.”
About to reply, I realise we’re being rude as Lexi and Alex are watching us blankly; not understanding what the hell we’re talking about.
“Sorry guys, I just placed where Walt’s from. I got a little over excited about testing my language skills.” I giggle.
“No that’s alright. I was just about to say that we felt just as awkward and out of place as you did when you walked in,” says Alex.
They all seem really down to earth and reasonably normal. We chat for a whole and order another round of cocktails before making our way to the dining room. Thankfully, an area’s been reserved for us to be seated together. An entire pre-dinner bottle of champers and three incredibly strong cocktails later, my head is buzzing. I need to eat or I’ll be sprawled out on the floor in a minute.
We arrive at the dining area. It’s a buffet and the table is filled with seafood platters, roasted meats, veggies, breads, salads—just about anything you could possibly think of. My stomach’s growling at the smell of it all. Feed meee bitch!
We put down our drinks and amble over to the array of foods. I dish up nothing but seafood. When I’m out, I eat whatever I don’t get at home – that being the most expensive items on the menu – the ones I can never afford to splash out on. And boy do I make the most of that. My plate is a mountain of prawns, crayfish, calamari, scallops, sea bass and olives. Not only am I in sex heaven, but food heaven too. As I sit down to savage my dinner, I’m handed a bowl of hot water and lemon. Yep, I’m definitely going to need that for my soon-to-be grubby paws!
“Oh god I’m going to pop out of this dress any minute!” I say after ten quiet minutes of contently cramming every garlic buttered sea creature into my belly.
“I’ll be happy with that,” Lexi says cheekily.
“I bet you would be,” I flirt back. Ooh, the alcohol’s taking control of my mouth.
An hour and four serenely full bellies later, Alex announces the next plan.
“Right girls and boys, how about we hit the bar for a few more bevvies?”
“Sounds good to me,” agrees Walt.
“And me,” follows Lexi as she looks over at me.
“Oh, yep, me too,” I concur as I force down my last morsel.
We all rise and push in our chairs.
“We’ll meet you there in a few. Get us a couple cocktails won’t you boys?” Lexi suggests as she winks in their direction.
“Sure,” they say simultaneously, and we disappear to the ladies together to touch up our faces.
“Men! They’re like puppies when it comes to us women. I bet if I asked them to roll over and play dead, they would,” Lexi giggles infectiously.
We enter the majestic rest room. Marble everywhere!
“Holy fuck, I’ve died and gone to shitter heaven,” says Lexi.
“Jesus, tell me about it. The taps probably cost more than my entire flat.”
She enters a cubicle and I can hear her pee. It’s so dainty for someone who appears so confident and full of shit. Not literally of course. And obviously the sound of someone’s pee isn’t a reflection on them of course, cause that would just be weird. Okay, so I don’t know why I just thought that. Oh shit, I’m so drunk and full of it myself. What the hell am I thinking?! I shake my head to clear the dim-witted thoughts crazily filling my head.
“So what’s brought you here then?” I ask as she continues to tinkle.
“Ex-husband, you?”
“Same, in a way, well a recent ex I guess. And the fact I’m embarrassed at being thirty three and not having had nearly as much sex as most. Well, I mean I’ve had plenty of sex, of course, but I just feel like there’s so much more to try. Actually, I hadn’t a clue what I was getting myself into. I ignorantly thought I was being swept off to a health spa.”
“Well, they do have one,” she teases.
“So tell me your story,” she orders. Holy hell, she’s quite the dominant one.
“Well, the shorter version: I was married for 4 years, he was a woman beating bell-end and his cock was too small anyway. Then I was with a guy I thought was The One for three and a half wasted years but he turned out to be an emotionless, prudent mind-fucking fuck up and anything but sexually adventurous. He thought missionary was as exciting as it could get and almost passed out when I introduced him to one of my toys one night.” I hear her giggle.
“God, I loved the asshole and I don’t even know why. We were opposites in every way. I wanted to fuck every half hour and he was quite content with once a month. Anyway, we broke up a while ago and I’ve only just managed to start getting over him. Just about. Now I have all this free time to fuck away and yet nobody to fuck with. I mean I am seeing someone but as adventurous as Sir come-a-lot tries to be, it’s just not enough and I feel as if I’m about to explode with all the repressed starvation for reckless sex I have inside of me. I’m bored titless,” I laugh.
She’s still cackling at my outburst as she flushes and exits the cubicle. She makes her way over to the basin and she washes her hands looking over at me. We stare at each other through the mirror as we apply our lipstick. Déjà vu.
She turns off the valve and dabs her hands on a fresh heated hand towel and walks over to me. She clutches at my face and presses her lips against mine. Mmm, so soft and full. I whimper as I press into hers and we’re in full snog mode. I can feel my clit twitching as she moves the top of my dress to the side and releases one of my boobs into the open. She lowers her head and bites at my nipple. Ouch! It stings like a flea bite.
I shut my eyes to stop the room from spinning, gasping as I unconsciously sink my hand down her leather trousers and into her—oh, she has no underwear! She’s soaking wet and I thrust my fingers inside her as she nips at my bottom lip then the top. Sh
it this woman’s a real biter!
“I don’t think we’re supposed to do this here. Communal area and all that,” I say with one lip still in her teeth whilst retrieving my drowning hand from the clutches of her sodden pussy.
“You’re right,” she says stepping quickly back as if I had just let out a fart.
“Let’s get some more drinks down us and we’ll head up to my room. It’s my last night here after all.” She straightens herself out. Ah, no time waster this one! We return to the boys.
“Oh well good morning you two. Might we guess what you were up to in there, hey?” Walt blurts out as we upraise our cocktails.
“You can guess, but we’re not going to tell you much,” Lexi titillates. God I wish I could be as poised and as seductive as she is. The guys practically salivate at the sight of her. Come to think of it, so do I.
Two hours, much flirting and countless belly laughs later, Lexi suggests we head up to her room where she’s stockpiled a stash of whiskies, vodkas and bubbly. I collect my bag and stand up, as does everyone else, except my attempt is with a slight wobblier effect. I thought she meant just her and I. Shit, everyone’s going up to her room? Bloody hell, does that mean...? Oh shut up Gemma, quit over analysing everything. Take a night off for fuck sake. Go upstairs, drink some more, and let whatever happens, happen. Jesus, one minute you want to shag everyone you walk by and the next you’re talking yourself into a stage of ethical virginity. Remember you’re here for recklessly immoral and guiltless, unconventionally outlandish jezebelian fornication! Go wild.
I’m telling myself off so much, I don’t even realise we’d begun walking. We reach the second floor and stumble to her door. Oh, she’s just two rooms away from me. How very handy.
Walt flings his jacket onto a chair near the door and disappears into the bathroom. Lexi collapses on the bed taking Luke with her. I leave them to it and laze my numb body across the chaise longue to which Walt returns and sits himself on the edge. He lifts my feet onto his lap and begins to massage them.
Sweet Convictions Page 8