by Bridy McAvoy
“You want me to strip for you?”
“Why not?”
“Even though you always say half the fun is stripping me out of my clothes.”
“True, but maybe I want you to do the work.”
Her eyes opened wide, and deep inside I saw a flash of reaction. I don’t think it was anger.
“You want me to go upstairs and get myself done up in a sexy frock, and then come down here, put some music on, and strip for you?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“And what’s in it for me if I do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll lay you out on the dining room table and fuck you ’til you can’t walk.”
She grinned. “Give me forty minutes.”
“Make it thirty, minx.”
“Any particular dress you want, sir?”
“I was thinking of that maroon one you wore the day we got engaged. I never did get to take that off you.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and shuddered then breathed a reply. “You’re on.”
Before I could say another word she’d wriggled out of my arms and dashed for the stairs.
Chapter Nine – The Hen Weekend
We relaxed for a couple of days, lazing around the house, although there was plenty of sex as we reaffirmed our bond with each other. I think we both knew, though, that there was still one final sword of Damocles hanging over our heads.
Wednesday morning, after wake-up sex, shower and breakfast, we were taking our ease on the deck outside. It was warm, but not too warm in the shade—the deck got afternoon sun rather than morning.
“Honey?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we need to talk about one more thing and put everything to bed. We’ve both got work next week.”
I nodded and, taking a final pull on my mug of coffee, rose and walked over to her. She took my hand and, unfolding her legs from underneath her body, rose to her feet. In those soft cotton shorts it was a performance worthy of any film or stage.
“Inside?”
“Gardens have ears, Sam. Gardens have ears.”
“True.”
We walked through to the front of the house and settled onto one of the couches. After a moment Sam planted a kiss on my cheek and rose to her feet again. “It would be better facing each other, okay?”
“Sure.”
She settled onto the other couch and once more did that thing with her legs, curling them up underneath her. This just made her thighs seem to stretch and, with those short shorts, I could see every inch of their delicious length.
* * * *
As you know, in the months following the accident I’d drifted away from most of my female friends. Most of them got on with their lives, leaving me treading water. I’d kept in touch with Simone, but she was about the only one, so I guess it was natural for me to ask her to be my chief bridesmaid. I did have a couple of younger cousins I could ask, but as you know, most of my parents’ families were from the West Coast. In the end, only those without children actually came to the wedding, so Simone ended up as my only bridesmaid.
I was disappointed, but not too much. I had you, even though, for appearances sake, you insisted on moving out for the two weeks prior to the wedding and dossing down in Bruce’s spare room. That annoyed me—as if I cared what any of my stand-offish family thought. Your family were great, and I loved your mom, but you didn’t have any sisters, nor any other young female relatives close enough to be bridesmaids either.
I had a couple of friends among the relief librarians we’d used for cover when one of us was off, but they weren’t close. The only other young woman I knew reasonably well was Sarah, Mr. Bryant’s daughter. Since she was now engaged to an ex-boyfriend of mine, it wasn’t wise to invite her along on a hen night, even if she agreed to come. Mr. Bryant agreed when I discussed it with him just after I’d asked him to give me away.
So, after several Skype conversations with Simone—remember, she was still at college then, a senior, and coming up to her finals finishing three weeks before the wedding—she said leave it with her. The weekend before the wedding she’d arrange a weekend away—a spa break out of state. She wouldn’t tell me where, and I didn’t even know which state until we got to the airport. Actually, at that point, it was just nice to have some company. You’d moved out the week before, and I was rattling around in the house on my own. Sure, there were lots of things to do to prepare for the wedding, and we did see each other some nights. You, though, were a real bastard to me—you wouldn’t let me touch you, and you wouldn’t touch me. You wanted us both to be really ready for our wedding night.
That was hard for me. Really hard. I don’t know how you managed, but I was waking up in the middle of the night in a tangle of damp sheets with my fingers rammed up inside myself. I was changing the bedding every day!
Anyway, it turned out to be an hour’s flight and there was a limo to meet us at the airport. That was about a ninety minute drive and then we turned off onto a little dirt road out in the middle of nowhere and there in front of us was a fabulous little ranch house. We didn’t stop there. Instead, the driver, who hadn’t said anything all the way, dropped us in front of a log cabin set among some trees. A brightly smiling young woman was there to greet us.
“Hi there, you must be Samantha and Simone. I’m Chelsea, your agent for the weekend.”
Although she was wearing a blouse and a wrap-over skirt, both were a thin floral material and showed she was wearing a black bikini underneath. One of the weirder instructions Simone had given me was not to pack, or wear, anything black, including underwear. Apparently, black was reserved for staff, not guests.
We shook hands and said our hellos then followed her into the cabin. The driver deposited the bags just inside the door and pulled away. The cabin was basically a single room, a pair of single beds at one end, and a small seating area in front of the ranch doors that led out onto a deck with a hot tub. There was a small kitchen area to one side, but not really the facilities to do more than make coffee and toast. A small bathroom opened just to the right of the front door as we entered. It didn’t have a full door, just a pair of half-height swing doors, like an old-fashioned western saloon.
I raised an eyebrow at Simone, but she just smiled.
“Now, do you both know the rules here?”
Simone chuckled. “I do, but the blushing bride doesn’t.”
Chelsea turned to me and smiled. I guess the heat in my cheeks told all of us I’d just made her statement into the truth.
“Okay, three simple rules.”
I nodded.
“Firstly, all interactions with other guests are limited to dinner time. As you will see, the cabins are shielded from each other by trees. There’s a fence inside the wood too. You may not cross that line under any circumstances. Dinner may be taken in the house, but about half our guests prefer to be served in the cabins. You may distinguish between guests and staff by the color black. All staff members, male and female, will be wearing something black. No guest is allowed to. I trust you haven’t packed anything black?”
“No.”
“Good. For the safety and security of our guests I would have had to confiscate it. If you do wear black, even underwear, then it is grounds for your immediate expulsion.”
I turned to Simone. “What is this—some kind of prison camp?”
Chelsea laughed. “Not at all, there are good reasons for all of this. They’re designed to help you relax and enjoy the experience. When are you getting married?”
“A week tomorrow.”
She smiled. “Congratulations. I hope you have a wonderful day. Now this weekend is about making you forget about the wedding, your fiancé, and all the preparations. Put everything, and everybody, out of your mind. Rule Two. Any member of staff is at your beck and call at any time—for anything. And I do mean anything, unless they are wearing one of these.” She tapped the round red badge on the front of her top. “This badge means th
ey are already busy looking after another guest, and cannot respond to your request, or they have duties that require them to ignore you. We have over thirty staff here, and most of us wear a badge for about thirty percent of the day.”
“Anything?”
“Oh, yes, anything. Massage, fetching you some breakfast, a drink, spotting you on the weights in the gym, anything.”
Simone chuckled and I could see the way her mind worked. We hadn’t really seen that much of each other in the three years since she’d gone to college, but I had a pretty good idea how her mind worked.
“Rule Three. The staff here are well paid. No gratuities are acceptable under any circumstances. There is a tip box in the entry hall to the main house. But other than that, any attempt to give money to a staff member will be politely and firmly declined.”
“Understood.”
I could see Simone smiling, but we both nodded.
“Now, the mini bar is fully stocked. Housekeeping will come around mid-morning, change the beds, and restock. Everything there is complimentary, meaning it’s already included in the price. Dinner is served at seven, and we expect guests to dress for dinner unless they are eating in their cabins. Will you be attending dinner tonight or eating here?”
Simone looked at me and sort of nodded toward the door. I nodded and then answered for both of us. “We’ll come up to the house for dinner.”
“Excellent, we have an extensive menu. Any questions?”
We both shook our heads.
“Good.” Without any fuss, Chelsea reached up and unpinned the red badge, placing it on the clipboard and putting both down on the shelf behind her, then stood still.
I had no idea what she was doing, but it was clear Simone knew more than she was letting on.
“Take the top off, Chelsea. You might as well remove the skirt too.”
Chelsea merely nodded her head and her hands went to the row of buttons on the front of her blouse.
“What?”
Simone waved me to silence and I watched open-mouthed as Chelsea stripped off her top and skirt, revealing her black bikini.
“Tell Sammie what your normal work uniform is, please, Chelsea.”
She gestured to her own body. “As your friend knows, this is my uniform. We always wear a cover-up when we’re greeting new arrivals—until we’ve explained the rules. It tends to make people less nervous than it would to be greeted by a girl in a bikini or a guy in shorts.”
“Ah, I see. Thank you.” I shot Simone a look. She knew far more than she’d told me. I wondered what else was going to happen now.
“And if I asked you to remove the bikini, would you?”
“Of course.”
“What?” I was flabbergasted.
Simone continued. “And if I was a man and asked you to give me a naked massage, would you?”
“I am a trained masseur as well as a personal trainer.”
“And as I’m a woman, does that make any difference?”
“Of course not. In fact, a massage would be an excellent way for you to start your stay with us.”
I just stared at first one and then the other with my mouth open. There was obviously a lot more to this place than Simone had led me to believe.
Chelsea hadn’t stopped though as she turned to me. “Would you like a massage too? I can easily call for another member of staff to join us.”
Simone didn’t let me answer. “We’d both love one. That would be fantastic, thank you.”
I swallowed hard then slowly nodded. A massage did sound like a great idea.
Chelsea’s next question floored me. “Would you prefer a male or a female masseuse?”
My hand flew to my mouth. “Naked?”
She chuckled but reached out a hand and grabbed mine. “Don’t worry, what happens here is up to you. It can be a naked massage, a topless or bikini massage, or the masseuse can wear a white coat. It’s entirely up to you.”
The idea of a naked man running his hands all over my equally naked body didn’t sit too well with me, so I quickly reached a decision.
Simone chimed in and I felt I was being railroaded by the pair of them into agreeing. “It’ll be fun. Come on. I was only asking Chelsea so you would know where the limits are here. There aren’t any. If I asked Chelsea to make me cum when she massaged me, she would, wouldn’t you?”
The dark-haired woman just smiled, licked her lips, and nodded.
“Okay, but I think I’d go for the bikini option, if that’s okay with you?”
“That’s fine, honestly. This experience is about pampering you, maybe fulfilling a couple of fantasies, but there’s no pressure—it’s up to you. Now let me make a call and find someone to join us, and I’ll get the tables set up in front of the doors to the deck. That way, as soon as you’ve finished your massage, you can jump in the hot tub.”
“Won’t the oils…?”
“Don’t worry, we flush the system and clean thoroughly between guests. The filters don’t get time to get clogged. You’re booked ’til Monday. We won’t put another guest in here ’til Wednesday.”
She picked up her phone and walked over to the far end of the cabin, making a quick call. I glared at Simone as if to say ‘what have you got me into?’, but Simone was ignoring me, a smile playing on her lips as she started undoing her blouse.
Chelsea finished her call and turned around. “Chrissie will be joining us in about five minutes. She just needs to finish what she’s doing and she’ll be here. I’ll set up the tables. There are robes hanging just inside the bathroom.”
That gave me the excuse I wanted. Simone might have been a friend from school, but I hadn’t undressed in front of her for about four or even five years, nor seen her undressed. Chelsea was a complete stranger, so before anyone said anything I made my break for the privacy of the bathroom. Simone giggled but I ignored her.
It didn’t take me long to get undressed, although I left my panties on and, pulling the robe on, belted it around my waist.
Simone called out. “Bring me the other robe please, sweetie.”
I walked into the room and stopped dead. Simone was standing there nude, her clothes neatly wadded up on the bed nearest the door. Chelsea, in the meantime, had pulled a couple of padded massage tables from a cupboard near the ranch doors and set them up head to head in front of the expanse of glass. The doors, as I’d said, opened out onto a deck and hot tub. Beyond the deck was a small strip of mown grass and then woodland. Nobody could see in but it was disconcerting. I wordlessly handed Simone the robe and she shrugged it up over her arms onto her shoulders but didn’t bother belting it. Our attendant was busy getting oils and the other paraphernalia for a massage out of the cupboard and was otherwise ignoring us. I gave Simone another of those ‘what have you got me into?’ looks but she just winked.
Any awkward conversation was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. The woman knocking, a pretty petite blonde, didn’t wait for an answer—just walked in. She was wearing an identical black bikini to Chelsea’s, and she also wore a red badge. The moment she shut the door her red badge joined Chelsea’s. I twigged then—that badge had stopped her getting intercepted by any other guest, or request, on the way over. It was a neat system, but it raised as many questions in my mind as it answered as to why it was needed.
“I’m Chrissie. Which one of you wants my specialty nude massage?”
I almost choked as I coughed and Simone just laughed. Chelsea turned around and beckoned her colleague over. They whispered for a few seconds then Chrissie turned back to us and, walking over to Simone, shyly took her hand.
“Come on. Let’s get you set up on the table, and then Chelsea can deal with your shy friend.”
“I am not shy.”
She chuckled but continued walking away. Her hands rose to Simone’s shoulders and, slipping the robe off, gestured for her to step up and lie on the table. My bridesmaid showed no shame as she lay there in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass, naked. Chrissie si
mply moved to stand on the opposite side of her from me and, without any modesty, false or otherwise, started to slip off her bikini. The top went first, revealing small but pert breasts.
You’d have loved her, honey, she was a real little kitten.
Her bottoms were then slid off revealing the fact she was fully shaved.
Once she’d discarded the bikini she sprayed oil on her hands and started working on Simone’s shoulders. The look on Simone’s face was one of pure bliss and, for a moment, I felt jealous. Chelsea beckoned me over and, when I hesitated, she stepped around the table and came over to me. She pitched her voice at a whisper so it didn’t carry.
“Everything here is consensual. You don’t have to do anything. Unless you tell me to, my bikini will stay on. Okay?”
I nodded, relieved, and let her lead me to the other table. She reached for the belt on the robe, pulled it open and stepped behind me. At least I still had my panties on, not like my brazen friend, but I was still going to be topless in front of three women for the first time since the high school gym locker room.
Once she’d slipped the robe off my arms, I quickly moved over and lay on the table. Chelsea positioned a pillow under my chin so I could look up, only to find Simone’s face a foot or so away. My friend had her eyes closed and a dreamy smile on her face as the naked Chrissie worked her hands up and down her back. Then I felt Chelsea’s soft hands touch my shoulders and start to rub oil into my skin.
It was bliss, pure bliss. I guess within seconds my expression matched Simone’s. I don’t know—my eyes were closed just as hers had been, and probably still were. After a couple of moments I heard a soft moan from in front of my head and, opening my eyes, watched as Chrissie started to work on my friend’s butt. It was quite an erotic sight and I couldn’t tear my gaze from the sight. Simone’s eyes popped open and she stared at me, her eyes limpet pools of desire—she was enjoying what the other girl was doing to her. Her mouth opened in surprise as Chrissie climbed onto the table, straddling Simone, her hands returning to her shoulders. Now, though, she was using her lower body as well. With her legs spread apart, it was obvious her pussy was grinding into Simone’s back.
