Swingers

by Piquette Fontaine

  “You know I don’t do movies…but I know who she is,” I said just to calm my mother down. She was halfway out of breath already and I could tell she was very excited.

  “Well she’s going to be at this party and I just paid $5000 to get you invited!” my mother shouted.

  I sat up straight on the plush leather couch in my living room.

  “Who’s going to be at the party?” I asked, teasing my mom to hide my own excitement.

  “Jenna Roland, silly! It’s high time you stopped going out with all those cheap sluts and meet someone decent for a change.”

  My mother sure had a way with words, but besides her slanderous reference to my female companions I could tell that she was serious. Jenna Roland was actually going to be at some party that I’d been invited to…that was worth getting dressed in a suit for the evening and at least driving over to check things out.

  “Where is this party?”

  “It’s at 42 Forest Drive, Greenhaven. The name of the hostess is Vivienne Tredoux and she will be expecting you.”

  Now don’t get me wrong, if I’d really wanted to meet Jenna Roland before I could have arranged it all by myself. Most men would never be able to arrange such a meeting, as most A-list Hollywood actresses only ever did what their agents told them to do, but I had shares in several Hollywood movie studios and could have pulled the right strings if I’d really wanted to. I just never did that kind of thing because I didn’t enjoy using my money and power to get to the women I wanted. That was too much like hiring a high class hooker. I enjoyed the honest excitement of chasing a woman with nothing more than my powers of attraction and persuasion. Now my mother had done the dirty deed on my behalf, by paying for me to meet Jenna Roland and I had the opportunity to go to a party where I could coincidently bump into this gorgeous actress and intentionally bump her later in the evening.

  “Just text me the co-ordinates to her place and I will pop in at this party a bit later,” I said to my mother’s evident satisfaction and ended the call after promising to pay her back the $5000 she’d paid to get me invited, plus a couple thousand more for her efforts.

  I could feel the thrill of the chase rising in my chest and proceeded to get ready for the evening. I put on my Armani suit and splashed a generous helping of expensive cologne on my face. I took a look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and winked at myself.

  “Go get them tiger,” I whispered and smiled at my own little joke.

  I decided to drive over to the party in my red Ferrari Testarossa and was soon racing down the streets of Manhattan, on my way to some magic enchanted evening in the rich New York suburb of Greenhaven, where destiny was waiting to receive me with open arms and deceitful eyes.

  VIVIENNE

  I was taken aback when he appeared at the entrance.

  I experienced a moment of slight hesitation before walking over to greet him; a second of bliss as I felt my heart skip a beat.

  He looked like a male model and I half expected him to be some new movie actor I hadn’t seen or heard of before. I didn’t recognize him and wondered how it was possible that I couldn’t recall his name. His wavy black hair was cut in a style that was somewhere between trendy and fashionably untidy. His casual elegance perfectly complemented the obvious masculinity of his body which was easy to discern beneath the expensive suit he had on. His eyes were blue beyond belief and I felt a dangerous tingling in my spine when he looked straight at me.

  “Stay calm Vivienne, he’s just another boring rich guy,” I thought to myself and held out a neatly manicured hand for him to shake.

  “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before, I’m Vivienne Tredoux,” I said in my most professional voice.

  “No we haven’t,” he said, ‘If we’d experienced any kind of pleasure together before I would certainly have remembered it.”

  His arrogant smile and sexual remark was irritating and very alluring at the same time.

  “I’m Clark Logan,” he said and shook my hand a moment longer than was necessary. So this was Brenda Logan’s boy then. Not half bad.

  I ignored his sexual innuendo and answered him in a steady voice, “Please make yourself at home and just ask if you need anything.” It was only as I walked away to catch a breath of fresh air outside that I realized I hadn’t followed my grandmother’s golden rule at all. I hadn’t made Clark Logan feel like he was the prince of my dreams to follow it up with inexplicable rejection later. I simply hadn’t felt like stroking his ego at all after he got under my skin with his obvious sexual remark and macho arrogance.

  “Let’s just play this one by ear Nana,” I whispered and looked up at the starry sky; hoping that my grandmother was smiling at me from above. I felt an unusual excitement welling up in me. Clark was not your run of the mill rich guy - that much was immediately evident. With his incredibly good looks he obviously didn’t need to use his money as an aphrodisiac like so many other rich men did. He could clearly have any woman he wanted and I suddenly wondered if I would be able to make him mine for the evening. There would soon be a lot of fucking going on in my mansion and I found myself wondering what Clark Logan would look like without his $12000 suit…

  Some people would say the social events at my house were actually nothing more than swinger parties, but I wouldn’t put it that bluntly myself. Sure, the eight upstairs bedrooms always had some rich guys and willing beauties fucking the living daylights out of each other from early on in the evening, but this was not something I ever guaranteed would happen at my parties; it was merely the way things turned out. If you put that much sex appeal and money in the same room the results were always the same: Lots and lots of steamy sex.

  One by one the guests started arriving and you would be forgiven if you’d walked past my mansion and thought that this was an Oscar awards after-party. Famous movie directors, actresses, models and other glitterati were soon standing around with exotic cocktails and horny intentions, all over the lawn and inside the mansion. I greeted them all cordially and played my role of gracious hostess to perfection. A couple of men had come only to try and bed me and they were already forming a cozy little circle around me. I played with them the way a bored lioness might play with her cubs and made sure none of them came to close to me.

  I glanced over to the group of hungry women that were talking to Clark Logan and felt a little pang of anger and jealousy at the same time. Who the fuck was this man to invade my party as if it had all been set up especially for him? He glanced at me once or twice with a quizzical look, but didn’t have the courtesy of walking over to speak to me at all. Didn’t he know who I was? Did he not realize that I could change his life with the flash of my hand by writing his name in my Red Book?

  It dawned on me then that Clark was not a man who would consider it necessary to partake of my special favors. I looked at the pack of hungry she-wolves who were surrounding him with their obvious sexual intentions and realized that he was not the kind of man who needed to waste energy on chasing down any woman; they obviously all chased after him. I was just about to settle on the right mental box to put Clark Logan in, when Jenna Roland walked in the door and Clark’s entire complexion changed instantly.

  Clark stole a number of glances in her direction and I could see how the previously calm Billionaire changed into a predator right in front of my eyes. He now had the appearance of a man ready to pounce on his unsuspecting prey and I could see he was making his way over to where Jenna was standing in the middle of a group of horny men. I had to admire his technique. He didn’t walk right up to her and didn’t let on that he was interested in her at all. He ended up standing with his back to her and then pretended to bump into her. She looked around and he flashed a beautiful, innocent smile at her. I could see them exchanging some words and could just imagine the series of one-liners Clark must have been offloading on her. I could see, even from where I was standing, that he was making quick headway as Jenna was soon facing him and he had her undivided at
tention. She was doing all those things that a woman does to let a man know she’s interested. She was touching her hair every ten seconds and was pushing her tits so far into his face that I feared he might be smothered to death in a second.

  I caught myself just in time before I lost control. Why was I feeling these emotions of jealousy all of a sudden? I didn’t know the womanizing bastard at all and he meant nothing to me. I tried my best to focus on the shit-boring conversation I was having with a rich, middle aged businessman, but found his talk about his beach house in Malibu most tiresome and uninteresting.

  “Just ignore the man,” I heard my grandmother’s voice speak in my mind and I immediately realized the wisdom of the suggestion. I turned my attention away from Clark Logan and pretended to be engrossed in my conversation with Malibu-guy.

  I dared not break my pretense by glancing in Clark’s direction even once. I would simply have to hope that he wasn’t going to take Jenna to the upstairs bedroom right away to introduce her to the rest of his obvious skills.

  Even though I was feeling slightly bothered and a little angry, I was actually enjoying this night more than any another social event at my house in recent memory. Perhaps it was all in my mind, the little evasive dance I was dancing with Clark Logan and perhaps he wasn’t even aware of my existence while he was chatting away with his Hollywood prize. But I couldn’t care less. Even if all of this was only in my own mind, it was still good to feel that breath of excitement again and to experience the thrill of wanting a man.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting some riveting conversation,” he suddenly spoke up from directly behind me and my heart skipped a million beats. I turned around too quickly and couldn’t muster enough self-control to pretend that I’d already forgotten who he was. Clark Logan looked straight at me and the blue depths of his dreamy eyes threatened to suck me in completely.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked with a smile. The thought crossed my mind that if someone had written down a transcript of our conversation up to that point I would have come across very composed, on the written transcription at least.

  “I was just wondering what you have at the top of those long swirling stairs, they look so inviting?” He looked at the stairs leading to the bedrooms on the first floor and I involuntarily looked in the same direction.

  “Just some bedrooms and old furniture, would you care to take a look?” I answered without thinking.

  “Why not, all this boring chit chat downstairs is getting too much for me.”

  I looked over at Jenna Roland who’d been left stranded with a group of middle aged admirers and sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to my Nana. It seemed that the gambit of ignoring this impossibly handsome man had paid dividends and I was now one short trip up the stairwell away from being in his arms.

  CLARK

  The moment I saw I her I forgot all about the movie actress.

  She had long dark hair and her strapless red top perfectly accentuated the rise and fall of her firm breasts. She had the face of an angel, with the appearance of someone who could be hiding a hundred secrets. Her looks reminded me of a picture I had once seen of Joan of Arc; she struck me as a beautiful warrior ready for battle.

  Fuck Jenna Roland, I’d found the prey I wanted to hunt that evening and fired my first shot by casting a poorly disguised sexual innuendo her way, to test the waters. She pretended not to be insulted at all, but I could see that I’d gotten to her. She was clearly not the kind of woman who would be impressed by money, I thought as I took a look around the home she stayed in. It was a mansion fit for a King, or a Queen, depending on how you looked at it.

  When she played me so very cool I decided that the best way to hunt her would be to make her jealous. When Jenna Roland finally arrived it wasn’t too difficult to bump into the gorgeous actress and start a casual conversation. I pretended to have forgotten all about the warrior princess; only stealing a glance in her direction once or twice to ascertain that my approach was working. I could tell that she was getting hot and bothered when she purposefully turned her back on me and pretended to be engrossed in her conversation with the boring old fuck who was talking to her.

  “One home run coming up,” I thought to myself as I walked over to her and enquired what might be found at the top of the staircase. I could instantly tell that she wanted to lead me up that stairwell to answer my enquiry and could feel my cock getting hard as we walked up the stairs together.

  When we got to the top I could hear the faint sound of moaning coming from the first room on the left.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “What’s wrong big boy, are you scared of the sound of a little friendly fucking?” she answered and we looked at each other for about half a second before I grabbed her and kissed her aggressively. I took her hair in my right hand and pulled her head back before kissing her on her neck and letting my tongue slide all the way down to her breasts. She seemed to enjoy it rough so I gave her head a jerk and then pressed my lips forcefully on hers again.

  “I don’t mind a little friendly fucking, do you?” I asked and watched her eyes for a reaction. She’d already lost all control and I let myself go too. Seldom have I felt the raw sexual desire that I felt for her in that moment. I picked her up and carried her to the next room on the left. I closed the door behind us and laid her down on the large bed which was dressed with spotless white sheets and linen. I pulled down her panties and pressed the tip of my tongue against her clit. She moaned and begged me not to stop, but her pleas were unnecessary. I had no intention of stopping.

  VIVIENNE

  I was shocked by how easily he’d broken through my defenses. There was no time to play a game of rejection, followed by the surprising blowjob like my grandmother had taught me.

  I felt my love muscles contract with a climax immediately when he pushed his tongue all the way inside me. I moaned shamelessly as he continued to lick me to even greater heights of ecstasy…then he was on top of me. He was not gentle at all and I loved the way he forcefully took me and shoved his huge cock into me like a giant, live vibrator.

  “Fuck me…fuck me hard!” I ordered and he obligingly rocked me with deep, hard motions of his powerful hips. I looked up at him and was pleased to see that his eyes were devoid of any self-control. I felt like we were now equally lost in the lustful passion of the moment and there was no shame in the way we fucked with reckless abandon.

  He moved his hips faster and faster, as if he were a dancer performing a fast salsa on my pussy. I sensed that he was getting close to orgasm.

  “Come all over me,” I moaned and he pulled out his cock and jerked it with his right hand, aiming the engorged, purple head right at my face. He looked at me with eyes that made me think of a beautiful leopard about to strike its prey. Then he exploded and sent a series of powerful sperm blasts all over my face and upper body, before collapsing on top of me.

  “I’m glad we could have this little friendly exchange,” he said with a grin when he finally picked up his head from between my breasts.

  “We’re not finished here…lots more to discuss,” I said and pressed his head down between my legs. I was now in control and he let me take over. I liked that. A man who could be rough and also take instruction when required.

  “Now you lick my clit and do a good job or else you never get to fuck me again.”

  He was now my beautiful captured predator and it seemed he couldn’t handle the thought of never pouncing on his prey again, as he licked me with quick strokes of his tongue to multiple deep orgasms.

  We fucked several more times after that and the passage of time lost all meaning for me. I couldn’t care if we never left the room again. We seemed to have found some ancient secret rhythm of forbidden lust, as we kept feasting on one another without stopping.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go down and talk some more to that empty headed movie star?” I asked after we’d finished one more salsa of languished lust.

  “I kne
w it…you were jealous,” he laughed and I felt a little silly for having said that.

  “Not at all, I just don’t want to keep you here against your will,” I responded and prayed that I wasn’t pushing him too hard. The last thing I wanted was for this to end, but I needed to re-establish some kind of equilibrium with him. I couldn’t leave him with the impression that he’d totally vanquished me; I had to remain slightly withdrawn and alluring in order to retain his interest.

  “No one keeps Clark Logan anywhere against his will,” he said with a dangerous grin and took my left nipple between his lips. He started sucking it slowly and I just let myself go again. He slowly licked me all the way down to my crotch and started licking my pussy with quick strokes of his tongue. The he climbed right on top of me the way a mountaineer might climb to the top of a high mountain. He was hungry as a lion and I more than matched his hunger with my own insatiable lust.

  It was going to be a long night.

  CLARK

  “So, how did you enjoy the party?” my mother asked.

  We were having breakfast on the lawn in front of my mother’s big house. The table looked as if it might give way under the many different dishes of delicious food that were stacked on it. You’d swear we were having a truckload of hungry soldiers over for breakfast, the way my mother had gone overboard with the poached eggs, fried ham and button mushrooms.

  I felt happy to see my mother enjoying the too-large breakfast. When my worthless father was still alive we never had enough food in the house, as he always spent every last penny on whiskey and whores. He also used to physically abuse my mother and I often fantasized about getting a gun somewhere and putting a bullet between his bloodshot eyes. I’m not ashamed to admit I felt grateful when the drunk old fuck died of liver cirrhosis, as we were actually better off immediately after his death. My mother could apply all of the money she earned from working at the corner hairdresser to put me through school. If she’d lately become a little possessive and sometimes threatened to appropriate too much of my fortune for herself, she had the fullest right to do just that. She’d certainly paid her dues.