Secrets

by Galia Ryan

  Stephanie gave a wide grin. “Well, to everyone’s surprise, it appears my grades are better than expected.”

  “That is good news. Have you told your father?”

  “Yes. He’s really happy, of course.”

  “And so he should be. You’re exceeding his expectations, you know.” Charles turned to Olivia. “For a while poor Alain was worried he had raised a wild-child.”

  “The horror of all parents, I should imagine,” Olivia agreed.

  “He thinks I’ve settled down.”

  “So, university next.” Charles said.

  “Yes. Imagine that.”

  “Any idea which one?”

  “I think so. I’ve been looking for a course that will allow me to study in different countries. You know, get the all-around perspective I’ll need if I want to practice international law. I’m applying to a couple of places.”

  “Good idea. It always pays to have a backup plan.”

  “Well, regardless of where you end up,” Olivia said, “if you need somewhere to stay just let me know. There’s always a chance I might know someone with a spare room.”

  “She has contacts everywhere,” Charles stated, almost proudly.

  “It’s true,” she laughed. “So don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Later they returned to the apartment. As Stephanie and Olivia relaxed on the sofa, Charles moved around the salon switching on table lamps. The subdued lighting created the perfect ambience to match their mood, and from her place above the fireplace the Odalisque appeared to smile approvingly.

  Charles stood next to an antique cabinet containing a variety of glassware. “Shall I open another bottle of champagne? Or would you both prefer something else?”

  “Just a cognac for me, darling,” Olivia replied before addressing Stephanie. “Do you mind if I stay?” she asked quietly.

  “No.”

  “You don’t want to be alone with Charles? This is your birthday after all.”

  “Stephanie. What can I get you? A liqueur?” Knowing her favourite, he was holding out the bottle for approval.

  “Perfect, thanks.” She smiled conspiratorially at Olivia. “I want you to stay.”

  “Then I will.”

  Placing two brandy balloons on the coffee table, Charles made himself comfortable in the winged chair with a third.

  “I’ve enjoyed tonight.” Olivia said. “Good food. Good company. What more could anyone want?”

  “Music.” Charles sat up. “I should have thought of it while I was pouring the drinks.”

  “Perfect. But nothing too heavy,” Olivia suggested.

  “Would anyone mind if I tried on my birthday presents?” Stephanie asked, already on her way to fetch them.

  “Not at all,” Charles said.

  Olivia added, “I’d love to see them on you.”

  Charles and Olivia were talking when she returned. She recognized the music playing softly in the background as Butterfly’s entrance music in the Puccini opera, Madama Butterfly.

  As if she were a catwalk model, she strode across the room and struck a pose in front of her audience. Placing a hand on her hip, she made a half turn. Then she turned back again.

  Charles’ jaw dropped. Olivia clapped her hands.

  “Perfect. Darling, you look absolutely wonderful. Tell her, Charles.”

  “She does indeed look wonderful.” He was recovering his poise.

  Delightedly Stephanie blew them both a kiss. She had piled her hair up loosely, and long strands were falling down even as she stood there. Her lips were slick with gloss and the whole effect was highly sensual. But it was Olivia’s gift that dominated the show. Even the beautiful diamond and emerald earrings were reduced to little more than accessories.

  The slip was short and barely reached the top of her thighs. Below a gossamer cobweb of embroidery that did nothing to cover her breasts fell opaque silk, not quite white, but not deep enough in colour to be considered cream. A ribbon, a few inches above the hem, held a dozen or so wide pleats.

  “My God,” Charles breathed.

  Crossing to Olivia, Stephanie bent forward and kissed her full on the lips. She heard another loud intake of breath from Charles and stifled a giggle, for she had deliberately positioned herself to give him a clear view of her naked cunt. That would teach him for not fucking her that morning.

  “Thank you for my present,” she whispered.

  “I think it should be Charles thanking me, don’t you?” Olivia whispered back.

  Collecting her glass, Stephanie went over and sat on her lover’s lap. It seemed the most natural thing in the world when he placed his hand on her breast and eased down the threads of embroidery to get at her nipple. She leaned her head on his shoulder contentedly.

  “As I was saying,” he said to Olivia, “for all her faults, she is one very sweet fuck.”

  “I can see that.”

  They were talking about her as if she wasn’t there. Stephanie had no problem with that. Just as long as Charles kept playing with her. She loved being driven crazy with need.

  “You know, she has never been with a woman?”

  “Really?”

  “So I believe.”

  He continued to tug gently on Stephanie’s nipple as he spoke.

  “Perhaps the time has arrived to rectify that omission,” Olivia suggested.

  Stephanie heard them, but she kept her eyes closed, which allowing her to revel fully in the sensations Charles was creating. She was moaning softly in pleasure.

  “I think you’re right. Why don’t we all retire to the bedroom?”

  * * *

  This time all three were on the bed. Charles was content to be a voyeur. He couldn’t believe how enthusiastically Stephanie was returning Olivia’s deep and demanding kiss. Although given her boarding school background, he thought it more likely than not she would have had some form of physical experience with another woman. Wasn’t that the turn-on about convent-educated girls? All that repressed sexual guilt? Either way, she was certainly enjoying it now.

  Olivia’s blouse was unbuttoned. She had taken Stephanie’s hand and placed it on her breast. He heard the slight gasp of surprise. Then, as he watched, Stephanie began tentatively moulding and squeezing.

  He gave his straining cock a stroke or two.

  Olivia’s thumb and forefinger clamped onto Stephanie’s nipple. The same one he had played with earlier. He heard the desperation in Stephanie ’s voice as she arched and begged for more. Olivia whispered that they were ignoring him. He couldn’t care less; nothing could be better than watching two beautiful women bringing themselves to orgasm.

  Olivia raised her head and gave him a calculating look. His mouth was suddenly dry. Licking his lips, he gave a slight nod. She ordered Stephanie onto her back and slipped her hand between the younger woman’s legs. They parted immediately.

  Fascinated, Charles watched Olivia’s fingers gently stroking Stephanie’s cunt. He had never seen anything so erotic. Deftly she parted the puffy outer lips to reveal the glistening inner flesh to him. Her manicured fingernails grazed around the opening. It was already slick and lubricated.

  Stephanie’s clit was completely engorged. He wanted to take it in his mouth, work it with his tongue. Olivia must have read his mind, for their eyes met and she gestured for him to do just that.

  Her fingers were still in place, holding Stephanie’s cunt wide open to give him full access. He groaned in pleasure and, lowering his head, gently closed his lips around the fully aroused flesh. Immediately Stephanie cried out. The sound was loud, a mix of exquisite pain and pleasure.

  He had a good idea of what Olivia required of him to do. She wanted Stephanie close to cumming. Close, but not quite there. He pushed his tongue into Stephanie’s opening, probing and teasing. He felt a hand on the back of his head and the murmur of words of encouragement and demand.

  Olivia was orchestrating them both.

  Suddenly he was pulled away.

  Olivia lay
back and dragged Stephanie on top of her. “Kneel up,” she ordered.

  Breathing heavily, Stephanie straddled the other woman. She must have been obeying a primitive instinct, for she worked her way back until their cunts were firmly pressed together. Then, her head back, eyes closed, she rocked back and forth. Charles knew she was trying to relieve an unimaginable ache. Olivia reached up and ran her fingernails over the younger woman’s nipples before gripping them firmly and pulling her forward.

  As their mouths met once more Stephanie’s cunt was exposed and perfectly presented.

  Charles approved of Olivia’s intention. Wanting to make the most of such a delightful situation he moved between their parted legs. His hand moved up Stephanie’s thigh and over the smooth roundness of her arse. Then his fingers slipped down between her cheeks to the hot and swollen cunt he had enjoyed moments earlier. Breathing deeply he pushed first one then two fingers into her tight, wet hole.

  With Olivia’s mouth fastened firmly on hers Stephanie was able to do little other than buck her hips in response. Charles knew she was desperate for relief, and wanted him to rub her clit in order to help her over the edge. But he had no intention of doing that. Instead he carried on, working his fingers in and out. Her muffled sobs only increased his enjoyment.

  Eventually he took pity on her. Grasping her hips he pushed his cock into her. Stephanie’s head shot up at the invasion. Then she was lifting her arse higher and pleading with him.

  He knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back. She wasn’t the only one, he thought wildly. He was desperate not to cum. He wanted to enjoy Olivia’s cunt first. Thankfully Stephanie’s unrestrained and extremely vocal orgasm arrived quickly.

  Releasing his grip on her, he pulled out, and she immediately collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion.

  “Now you must do the same to her,” Stephanie gasped, straining for lungfuls of air.

  He gave a grunt of primal pleasure. Smiling down at Olivia he couldn’t believe how well the evening had turned out.

  Stephanie had taken to it all as if claiming her birthright, and he knew instinctively it wouldn’t be the last time Olivia shared their bed.

  He lowered himself down and, as she slipped her arms around his neck, entered Olivia’s hot and waiting cunt.

  Chapter 11.

  Even though she dated other men, Stephanie still enjoyed being with Charles. The problem was that over time their affair had become comfortable. Not quite routine, just not as exciting as it had once been. The episode with Olivia had been the catalyst, and she found her growing acceptance of his seeing other women a little sad. As if the energy that had sustained their clandestine relationship for so long was ebbing away.

  In contrast, her relationship with Olivia had flourished.

  Thanks to her patronage, Stephanie found herself enjoying the attentions of a growing number of wealthy and influential socialites and media darlings. The parties were fun, and the men interesting. However, she was particular about who made it into her bed. She found Olivia’s advice to be astute; discretion was more likely among older men than their younger, brasher counterparts.

  She had learned a lot about herself and was honest in admitting that male attention was vital for her ego. Not to mention that she loved fucking. The crazier and more intense, the better. Studying nevertheless came first. She was looking ahead; if she hoped to apply to a law firm of any international significance she needed something to offer. Like an exceptionally good degree.

  The first year at university had been less demanding than Stephanie feared. Her lectures proved both challenging and stimulating, and to her delight, often controversial. During her second year she opted to take courses on a campus in Italy.

  When she had broken the news that she would be moving to Bologna for a couple of terms, Charles was pleased for her, insisting that he would visit at first opportunity.

  Olivia was also delighted. Within days she called to tell her that—provided she had no other accommodation lined up—she could use a townhouse belonging to a friend of a friend. And, she added, if Stephanie had no objections she might even join her there for a while.

  The arrangement worked on many fronts, not the least in allaying the concerns of her father. Unbelievably Alain still found it hard to think of his daughter as anything other than a wayward child. He had absolutely no idea how she would cope in another city, let alone another country.

  Thankfully Charles had the solution. A family friend of his, a widow, had the use of a place not too far from the university. She would be only too happy for Stephanie to share her lodgings.

  Alain was relieved, and suitably grateful to his business partner.

  Living together in Bologna, Stephanie and Olivia became lovers. Not in a sentimental way. They simply made use of each other whenever the need arose. Stephanie saw it as a practical option. Focusing on her studies made it hard to find a suitable partner through the more usual channels.

  Olivia, however, enjoyed a more active social life, and threw herself into a hectic round of parties and gatherings. After a while Stephanie became used to the comings and goings, and somewhat oblivious to the sound of frenetic lovemaking coming from her friend’s room.

  Olivia was unrepentant. “Darling, how could I not invite him back? He has been so sweet to me.” She would finger a new and expensive piece of jewellery.

  Initially, Stephanie thought Olivia was hoping to find her next husband. She revised her opinion one chilly night in January.

  They were curled up together, sipping hot chocolate laced with cognac. The fire was lit, and the heavy floor-length Damask curtains were drawn tight to deaden the sound of rain lashing against the windows. Stephanie had had more than enough of revision work. She placed the cap firmly on her ballpoint and closed the textbook. Then she gave her friend an expectant look.

  Olivia, too, had been reading, although her choice of material—yet another biography of a particularly tormented film star—was nowhere near as demanding. She placed a bookmark between the pages. “What’s the matter? Not in the mood for studying?”

  “No. I’ve had enough for today.”

  “So, what’s on your mind?”

  Stephanie tilted her head quizzically. “Do you ever want to get married again?”

  “Wow.” It took Olivia a moment before she could go on. “No, I’m not sure I do.”

  “Why not? You’re still young.”

  “Perhaps I’m happier this way. If nothing else, I like the freedom.”

  “But is it enough?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to come home to someone? You know,” Stephanie hesitated, searching for the right words, “someone to share your dreams with?”

  Olivia shrugged. “A husband? Not really.” She tucked her hair back behind her ears. “I would have to consult him every time I wanted buy something, or go anywhere. I don’t think so.”

  “But you know there’s more to a relationship than that. What about love, security, friendship?”

  “Security and friendship I already have. Love? A little overrated, I think.”

  “You’re far too cynical.” Stephanie pulled her legs up, hugging them to her chest.

  “Let me ask you then. How highly do you rate love? Would you give up everything for a man?”

  “For Charles, I might.”

  Olivia grimaced. “Rubbish. You know as well as I that your relationship is little more than a convenience now.”

  “How can you say that? We’ve been together well over three years.”

  “Hardly together, darling. When was the last time you saw him?”

  “You know,” Stephanie said. “It was when I first arrived and he came down to see us.”

  “Exactly. Us.” Olivia emphasised the word.

  “Okay. But it was fun.”

  “Yes it was. And that’s how I like things to be. Fun, not routine.”

  Stephanie stared at the flames dancing in the hearth. “I think I might
like routine one day.”

  “Really? Routine is ironing his shirts while he is out conquering the world. Routine is taking his children to school and then wondering how you are going to pass the rest of the day. Routine—”

  Stephanie held up a hand to stop her. “Okay, I get the picture.”

  “Horrendous, isn’t it? Far better to be your own woman and pass the routine onto someone else.”

  “Like live-in help?” It had taken no time for Stephanie to discover that whatever mess she made, their housekeeper was very obliging in cleaning it up.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of an existing wife,” Olivia replied evenly.

  “Oh. So, you would rather be a mistress?”

  “Like everything in life, it would depend on the situation.”

  “What about sex?”

  Olivia threw up her hands. “What about it?”

  Stephanie tilted her head quizzically. “Could you do without it if you had to?”

  “Probably not,” Olivia laughed.

  “Ah-ha! So you do need a man.”

  “Darling, we all need men. It’s the baggage they bring with them that’s the problem.”

  Now it was Stephanie’s turn to shrug. She could see her friend’s point. “So what’s the solution?”

  Olivia reached for the last of her chocolate drink.

  “Money, my sweet. The solution is money.”

  “You’ve lost me. What has money got to do with it?”

  “Everything, darling, because without it you have no options.”

  Stephanie was silent for a moment. “So you’re saying it’s better to have money than be married?”

  “Most times, yes. And anyway, isn’t that what you want? Wealth and power?”

  Olivia was confusing her, rattling her suppositions. “Yes, but I thought I’d get married at some stage, too.”

  “Darling, I’m sure you will,” Olivia reassured her. “And when you do I’m sure your husband will be very grateful for all you bring to the table.”

  With an enigmatic smile Olivia placed her cup back on the coffee table and returned to her book.