by J. J. Hayle
Samuel used to join her for these nights, but he did not enjoy it as much as a threesome, foursome, or swapping session. He had gone along with it to keep her happy and safe but had dropped out when she found Jay. Jay was six-feet-tall, muscular, and a mixed martial arts enthusiast. Samuel was confident he could keep her safe.
“Do you need anything?” Jay asked. “A drink or something?”
She smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed resting back on her elbows and parting her legs. “I’m good. Thank you,” she said.
Jay smiled and left the room. A few moments later, Alexa heard the sound of feet on the stairs. She edged back onto the bed, lay back, and spread her legs. Jay opened the door. He grinned at her, his muscles bulging in his vest. He carried a bowl of condoms and had a cricket bat resting over his shoulder. He turned to allow the first of the men to enter the room.
Alexa peered and saw the line of men waiting to have a turn with her. She couldn’t see how many as they were queuing up the stairs.
How very British.
Jay, of course, kept them in order. Anyone pushing her boundaries would have to answer to him. They were his friends, but he wouldn’t hesitate in giving them a black eye or a broken nose.
The first man took a condom from the bowl Jay was carrying and approached her. He pulled it on and kneeling on the floor, he entered her and began thrusting inside her. Jay had done a good job. All the men were young—in their early twenties—and good looking. She loved young, rampant men, and Jay—who coached sport—knew a lot of them.
The first man groaned as he shot his load into his condom. He pulled away from Alexa and the second took his place. The first waited against the wall and watched. Then the third took her, and the second man joined the first. Alexa lay back as each of the men took turns on her. She moaned as they entered her. They were excited when it was their turn. They were excited that she spread her legs for them and let each of them have his way with her.
She was so turned on. She loved seeing the men line up just to fuck her. She loved seeing them waiting and becoming increasingly impatient and excited as their friends took their time and finally finished with her. She loved them standing around her watching her get fucked by each of their friends.
Alexa didn’t know the men, though she recognised some from previous nights. She didn’t know their names, she didn’t speak to them. She did not hold them, kiss them or caress them. They penetrated her, fucked her, and then made way for the next man. It was exactly as she liked it.
When the eighth man was finished, Jay pulled down his jeans, rolled on a condom and took her himself. As a reward for managing the other men, Jay got to fuck her how he liked. He turned her over and fucked her from behind. She moaned loudly as he thundered into her, his excitement at its peak as he had watched the other men have her first.
Jay pulled her head back with her hair, and Alexa could see some of the other men masturbating as they watched. Alexa enjoyed watching them grow frustrated and jealous that Jay could do as he pleased with her and they had to stick to the rules.
One of the men approached, and Jay threatened him until he moved back to the wall. Once a man had tried to get Alexa to give him oral, Jay had left her and fought with the guy before returning to her to finish. She had had an incredible orgasm that night.
The men did not resort to violence this time, and Jay finished by coming into her mouth. He turned and shooed the men out of his bedroom. Most were excited, but others were annoyed she would not give them anything more, nor would she take their come. It excited her when they were annoyed—she couldn’t explain why. It made them seem more primal somehow.
“Did you have fun?” Jay asked her as he pulled her into a hug.
“Mmm,” she said, resting her head against his muscular chest.
It’s no wonder they won’t mess with him. He has muscles on his muscles.
Jay escorted Alexa safely to her car. He gave her a kiss through the window before watching her out of the drive. She pulled her car onto the country lane and drove back to her husband. She was still wearing the nightie under her dress. She smiled at the thought of having Samuel take her while wearing it when she arrived home.
Layla sat in her office finishing up some paperwork. Larson was working in his office next door. They hadn’t spoken much since she had ended their arrangement. They hadn’t spoken much before. There had been occasions where he had been friendly and even laughed with her, but frequently he maintained a cold front—more so towards the end of their arrangement.
Layla just could not deal with it anymore. She loved to be with him, she adored their evenings together, but she hated how she felt afterwards. Their arrangement just wasn’t enough. She needed more, and it had to be all or nothing.
She wanted to speak to him, though. It was his birthday, and she had bought him a present. She removed it from her desk drawer and placed the wrapped gift in front of her.
If he had just made a little more effort I could have coped.
If he had let her stay over or taken her out occasionally. He had not even acknowledged her birthday last year or this year despite her heavy hints.
She knew he liked her, and that made things more frustrating. At a recent shareholders’ party, she had overheard Larson tell an associate, Byron, who had shown interest in Layla, that she was in a relationship.
He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t like me, right?
She sighed, stood up and, picking up the gift, walked to his office. She knocked on the door and entered.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he replied, barely taking his eyes from the computer screen.
“I’ve got you a present…for your birthday.”
“Thanks. Leave it on the desk,” he said, still focussed on the screen.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked, disappointed.
“Later. I’m busy now, Layla. If there’s nothing else?”
“No,” she said dejectedly. “Goodnight.”
The gift remained unopened on Larson’s desk for the rest of the week. He continued to only speak to her if he had to about a business matter. He didn’t even acknowledge her if they arrived or left the office at the same time.
I’m tired of this. Why is he behaving like this?
There was a business lunch on Thursday, and they were both due to attend. They left the office in separate cars and arrived at the restaurant at the same time. Larson took a seat away from her, though he bristled when Byron took the available seat next to her.
“Layla, nice to see you again.”
She grinned at Byron.
“I notice you don’t wear a ring, Layla. Has your boyfriend not proposed yet?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” She chuckled, catching Larson’s glare.
“Ah.” Byron smiled back. “In that case, you should join me for drinks this evening.”
“Sure.” She blushed, flipping through the papers in front of her.
Larson arrived back at the office before Layla, and he was busy working when she knocked on the door.
“Have you got a few minutes?” she asked.
He shrugged, and she took a seat at his desk in front of her unopened gift. She began to speak to him about the meeting and an idea she had had for implementing some new contracts.
“Fine,” he said when she had finished.
“And the contracts?”
“Fine. It’s a good idea,” he said, looking at his screen.
She sighed. “How long are you going to be like this for, Larson?”
“Like what?”
“Like this. You barely speak to me.”
“Layla, I’ve never spoken to you much.”
“You are being weird with me.”
“You’re being paranoid,” he said nonchalantly.
“Whatever.” She stepped up from his desk, picked up the birthday gift, and threw it in the bin by the door as she left his offic
e.
Layla hadn’t enjoyed her evening with Byron very much. He spent the evening talking about himself and his accomplishments, he had been rude to the wait staff at the restaurant, and later, at a bar, he had become possessive and threatened a young guy who had approached her. Layla had told Byron she did not want to see him again and crawled, exhausted, into her bed at the end of the evening.
She was tired of men. She was tired of Larson. She needed a break. She woke early next morning and emailed Larson to inform him she was taking the day off and was going away for the weekend. She needed some time to herself and, after finding a last-minute deal, booked herself into a spa and drove to the country estate in Oxfordshire.
She had pulled her Toyota into the carpark when her phone rang. It was Larson.
“Hello.”
“What did he do?”
“What?”
“Byron. What did he do?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Layla, I know you went out with him last night. The guy is a prick. He’s obviously upset you.”
“Not really. It just wasn’t a good date. He was rude to everyone, and I thought he was going to start fighting with a guy who spoke to me so I left.”
“It could have been worse,” he said. “It usually is. He asked me a few weeks ago if you were single, and I told him you weren’t because he is a nightmare.”
Oh. I thought he did that because he liked me.
“Well, he is certainly an idiot.”
“So why are you taking the day off?”
“I just fancy some time away.”
“I have some things I need you to sign. Can I call round before you go?”
“I’ve already left. I’ve just arrived at a spa in Oxfordshire. I’ll be back on Sunday.”
“I need them for tomorrow.” He grumbled. “It’s fine. Don’t worry. I’ll speak to you next week. Enjoy your weekend.” He ended the call.
Layla wished she had the courage to invite him. She wished she had the courage to tell him what she wanted from him instead of just ending everything.
He knows I want more from him, that’s why he started to become distant. And he’s barely spoken to me since I told him it was over. He didn’t even reply to my message.
She sighed. She wished he hadn’t called her.
But he did phone me. He was worried about me. That’s the most he has spoken to me in ages.
Layla checked into her room. She settled her case on the luxurious bed and went to admire the view of the Oxfordshire countryside. What a difference a year makes.
I would never have been able to afford an impromptu weekend away in a fancy hotel in the past.
She had got a deal, but that was due to her own frugality. She had enough money for a comfortable life. She had paid off her loans, bought herself driving lessons and a used car, and was progressing well in saving for a deposit for a mortgage.
Though I can’t have too many weekends away if I ever want to buy a house.
Layla had just perused the spa menu and selected her treatments when her phone rang again.
“I’m sorry to keep bothering you,” Larson said. “Can I drive out this evening and get you to sign these documents? I'll come when you’ve finished in the spa and before you have dinner.”
She agreed and told him where she was. She changed her clothes and made her way to the spa. She had enjoyed a facial and hot stone massage when a staff member arrived with a tray.
“Your champagne, madam,” the girl said.
“I haven’t ordered any champagne.”
“It has been sent by a Mr Larson.”
“Oh. Well, thank you.”
Layla felt wonderfully relaxed when she returned to her room. She found her phone and sent a text to Larson:
I’ve finished in the spa now. I’m in room 311.
The reply came:
I’m in the bar. I’ll just finish my coffee.
She swallowed nervously.
Don’t rush. I’ll come down.
She threw on a loose-fitting dress and sandals and shoved her hair into a messy bun before applying a lick of mascara.
She spotted him sitting at a table reading a newspaper. He was still dressed for work, though he had removed his jacket and opened his shirt collar in the warm September weather.
Larson looked up as she approached and sat at his table.
“Thank you for the champagne,” she said.
“It’s the least I could do for spoiling your trip.”
She held her tongue to stop herself from telling him that he had just made her trip better.
“I have the papers here. Have a look through them, and I’ll be out of your way.”
“Sure.” She took them and began to read.
She read through quickly, signed and dated where necessary, and handed them back to him.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll leave you to your break.”
“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” she blurted before she could stop herself. She recovered and said more calmly, “You’ve come out all this way.”
He stopped and levelled his eyes at her as he considered her offer. She flushed and felt embarrassed for asking.
Why is he always so intense?
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Ignore me.”
“I have work to do,” he muttered.
Layla nodded, and they parted company. She returned to her room and put him out of her mind. She ordered room service for dinner before curling up in her bed and watching rubbish TV.
Layla enjoyed the rest of her weekend and was at work early on Monday ready to catch up on work she had missed on Friday. Larson entered her office when he arrived. He took a seat at her desk.
“Did you have a good weekend?” he asked politely, though he seemed disinterested.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good.”
“Did you?” she asked after he had said nothing more.
“I was working all weekend.”
“Oh,” she murmured. “I’m sorry for taking leave at short notice. I should be more considerate.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “I secured another contract on Saturday.”
“Well done. Who with?”
“Grayson and Sons. I have been invited to their annual ball in two weeks. Do you want to accompany me? It will be a great networking opportunity. They have a strong presence in Europe so your language skills may come in handy.”
“Yes. I am free,” she replied nonchalantly, though her heart thumped with excitement.
“Good,” he said. “I will let you get back to work.”
Layla had just finished her make-up and was fastening her necklace when she heard Larson’s car horn. She trotted down the stairs and towards the blue Audi waiting outside her building. As she opened the door, she noticed he was wearing a dark red silk tie.
She smiled. “You opened your birthday present.”
“Yes,” he said. “Thank you.”
“It suits you.”
“Thank you,” he said, glancing at her dress. “Did you plan for your dress to match my tie?”
“I thought the tie was in the bin.”
He gave her a tiny smile. “You look beautiful. I like your dress,” he said softly.
“It was twenty pounds in the sales.” She beamed at him as she climbed into the car.
He grinned and pulled away from her building.
Larson led Layla into the ballroom. He introduced her to their new clients, and one of the Italians was impressed when she spoke to him in his own language. After the introductions, Larson found them some champagne.
Layla took in the room. She did not recognise anyone except Tom and Jenna. “Do they get invited to every function?”
Larson grinned. “They seem to. They have shares in many pies.”
Layla hadn’t had much to do with Tom and Jenna, though there was the strange occasion at the golfing p
icnic when Larson had gone to the loo and Jenna had followed him, leaving her husband to talk to Layla. Larson had come marching back and had practically dragged Layla away from Tom. He had explained that Jenna confronted him in the loos and that Tom seemed to be happy with it and had been tasked with distracting Layla.
Layla wasn’t sure why they thought she needed distracting. She and Larson had never been a couple, though there were many rumours amongst Larson’s associates that they were. Larson had done nothing to confirm or deny the rumours. Layla was happy for them to continue—she rather liked being associated with him.
They spent the evening meeting clients and making contacts. Layla was exhausted. Her feet hurt, and she looked forward to taking her shoes off.
“Do you want to dance?” Larson asked.
Her chest thumped, and the pain in her feet disappeared with the spike of adrenaline. She smiled and offered him her hand. She dropped her head against his shoulder as he held her close to him. Her hands were on his back. She hadn’t held him for a while, and she had missed being in his arms. She smiled as she caught Jenna’s glare from the edge of the dance floor.
“I think they just come out so Jenna can pick up men.” Layla chuckled.
“That from someone who gets off on having the crap beaten out of her.” Larson laughed quietly.
“Point taken.”
They completed a few more rotations of the dance floor in silence.
“You like me,” Larson whispered.
“Yes,” Layla said, puzzled. “Of course.”
“Then why won’t you see me anymore?”
Layla felt surprised. He had never brought up her ending their arrangement, and whenever she had tried he had ignored her or changed the subject or just brushed her off. “I didn’t stop because I don’t like you,” she said softly. “I stopped because it is not enough for me to just be about sex. I love the sex. I miss the sex. It’s just that, afterwards, I need more.”