Rex Gordon - Menage a quatre - 36 Hours of Pleasure

The door opened very quietly, and Leslie slipped inside. "Rick, I'm sorry. I really am sorry about, you know, coming in almost naked."

"Maybe Rick can do you the same favor sometime," Judy said.

"Oh, Judy." Leslie smirked, but she could not look at Rick.

"Don't worry about it. I like that halter."

"Do you think it's warm enough?"

"Sure it is. You have a jacket. I'm just wearing this blouse, but I have a bra. And Dragon chest over here is wearing that shirt he picked up from some guy on the street."

"It was a clothing stand," Rick said.

"Yes, used clothes from God knows where or what time period. Are we all ready?"

"All set," Rick said.

"I'm raring to go!" Leslie said, but her heart did not seem to be in it.

Judy did a double take on Leslie, and she frowned. "Leslie, if you're going to wear that halter, you are not going to wear a bra under it."

"What do you mean?"

"Get right back in there and take your bra off."

Leslie blushed, but she went back into her room.

"You don't have to be so tough with her."

"It'll do her good. It'll make her feel sexy. You go downstairs. We'll meet you in the lobby."

"What?"

"Go ahead. This is going to be girl talk."

"Women," Rick muttered to himself and stepped into the hall.

"Good morning, monsieur," said the cute little maid pushing her dolly of sheets and towels through the hall.

"And a good morning to you too," he said.

She smiled back as he climbed onto the elevator.

"Good morning, monsieur," said the sexy, blonde hotel manager when the elevator door opened.

" Bon jour ," he said, probably sounding like some stage comedian trying to speak French. Rick had heard much about how the French were rude to Americans, but so far, he had run into none of that. From the corner of his eye, he watched the petite blonde.

"Have a good day," she said in English, as he allowed her to leave the elevator first.

"And a good day to you too," he said.

He stopped in his tracks and watched the way the narrow hips of the hotel manager shifted gently from side to side as she crossed to the reception desk. The French sure knew about sex, he thought, but he was embarrassed when she turned and caught him looking at her. She raised her nose, and went into her office. It made him feel like a dirty old man.

Until now, Rick had never felt unfaithful to Judy by just looking at other women. But after she talked to him last night about Leslie, he was beginning to feel a guilty nagging desire to fuck every good-looking woman he saw; first the maid, then the manager. He had looked at women before and thought I'd like to fuck that . Until now, they were always just passing thoughts that never stayed with him. This thought was hanging on.

He looked out through the door and into the narrow one-way street. He was amazed at how beautiful the Parisian women were, but none were as attractive as Judy. Maybe none compared to Leslie either; not even Leslie, after he had seen her walk out of the bathroom this morning, but she might be a close second. He was still looking through the glass of the door when two hands gripped his butt.

At first he thought it was Judy. He realized he was only half right when both she and Leslie giggled and stepped to either side of him.

"I can't believe I did that," Leslie said.

"Neither will your mother," Judy said.

"I don't believe it either," Rick said.

On the narrow sidewalk, he heard the two women laughing and giggling behind him. He was nervous on their long walk down to the quay, and across the bridge to Isle de Paris. He thought they might grab him again. Maybe he hoped it would happen.

He had heard them giggle together when he first met Judy. But that was before Leslie married Brandon Shane, the hotshot young attorney who many thought might be mayor of Wilmington someday, or maybe even a senator or congressman from Delaware.

They giggled even as they stepped into the church, and Rick was not just nervous, but embarrassed.

"Shhh," he said.

"Shhh, yourself," Judy said, and she grabbed his crotch.

While he admired the medieval beauty of the church, they were chattering away in whispers. He thought he heard them repeating the word "fuck" back and forth, as if Judy were teaching the word to Leslie. Once, they even spelled it.

When he could stand the embarrassment no longer, he led them from the church and onto the plaza.

"I say we go get something to eat," Judy said.

"And drink," Leslie said.

"I wish you girls would behave yourselves."

"Me?" Judy said.

"Yes, you."

"And I suppose Leslie is just an old goodie-goodie."

"Not so old," Rick said.

He had no choice but to tag along. On one narrow street where no traffic was permitted, he moved between them on the cobblestones.

"What's gotten into you girls?"

"Not enough, that's for sure," Judy said, and Leslie giggled.

Rick moved past, then ahead of them, and Judy hurried to his side. "Don't be so grouchy," she said. "You are going to have one hell of a time this afternoon."

"What do you mean?"

"I think Leslie is ready."

"For what?"

Now, it was Judy who giggled. She looked over at Leslie and said, "What do you think? Should he be ready for us?"

Rick glanced back, to see Leslie's shy smile. Her coat was open, and the warm spring breeze was blowing against her breasts in the halter. For just a moment, Leslie brought her hand to the bodice of the halter. In that same moment, Rick thought she was going to expose her breasts. She turned red, pulled her jacket tight, and buttoned it.

"I need some wine," Judy said.

"Me too," said Leslie.

"How about if we go visit that neat guy in that little bistro."

"The place that the goatee owns? Oh, yes," Leslie said.

"I'm beginning to think I should have come on this vacation alone," Rick said.

"You won't after we get through with you," Judy hinted, and danced ahead of him and into the little bistro.

It was just after noon, and the tables in the little bistro near the hotel were crowded with tourists and locals. It was easy to tell which were which, because the tourists in general were at the smaller tables, and the locals crowded around the larger ones, or stood at the bar to eat their sandwiches and drink their noon wine.

"Ah, it is good to see you again," said the proprietor, whose name was Armand.

He was tall and built well, but he did not seem very good-looking or sexy to Rick, but Rick was a guy, what did he know about the looks or sexiness in other guys.

"I have saved this place for you," he said, and he gestured to the linen covered table, with a vase of tulips as a centerpiece. Somehow the yellow tulips accented Judy's red blouse and Leslie's outfit of black jacket and skirt with white halter top. There was already a carafe of the house's red wine on the table,

Armand poured the wine, which Rick thought was fine. When Armand took their order and returned behind the counter, Judy giggled across the table at Leslie.

"You women are a pain in the ass when you act like teenagers."

"Aren't we though," Judy said. "Will you please stroke my kitty cat?" It was the term they used when they first got married.

"In here? Are you crazy?"

"Wuss."

"Judy, stop it," he said.

"Wussy, wussy, wussy," she said.

"It's called a 'pussy,'" Leslie said, like a little girl who had just learned something she wanted to share.

Leslie giggled and Rick was even more embarrassed.

"What do you think?" Judy said to her friend.

"He's a pussy if he doesn't do it."

Rick could not believe what was happening here. His wife of three years had spent most of the morning embarrassing him in front of her friend. Yet in his embarrassment, he remembered their conversation of last night about a threesome with Leslie, and his cock forced its way against the black chino material of his trousers.