David E Balaam - Nothing Is Sacrosanct

1969

Barbara was excited at the prospect of seeing her old teacher again, and two of her old school friends. Now aged twenty-two she was a mature confident young woman, in control of her destiny, except, she hid the doubts she had . . . how long could this wonderful, exceptional relationship with Marcus last? The age difference was not the issue - they were a perfect match. Both highly intelligent. Fluent in several languages, and . . . well, there the interests finished really, although she was pleased when he agreed to join her on a trip to America over Christmas to seek out some new 'art'. And, they enjoyed making love . . . what was there to worry about?

Barbara had contacted an old friend, Naomi, a fellow student at Chaucer's boarding school for girls. Naomi came up trumps and gave Barbara Ms Simone's details. Soon a date had been arranged in late January for them to meet and have a reunion.

Barbara and Marcus arrived at Ms Simone's modern top floor flat at 7.30pm as arranged. “Barbara, how lovely to see you, my dear, do come in.” The two women hugged and kissed. “And who is this charming gentleman?” Ms Simone asked, smiling at Marcus.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle. Mon nom est Marcus. Comment allez-vous?” Marcus said, handing over a very expensive bottle of Champagne, whilst trying to sum up this enigma of a woman. Ms Simone was very attractive, Marcus thought. She had a quality of reserved beauty. Not stunningly striking, but a clean simple face that radiated warmth and friendliness. Her now blonde hair was shoulder length and bounced on her shoulders, and her slightly turned-up nose gave her a 'cuteness' that was very appealing.

“Ahh. You speak French. How nice.” Ms Simone said, impressed with Marcus's grammar and fluency. “And Champagne. How lovely, merci.”

“He speaks many languages, Miss, more than you and I put together,” Barbara explained, taking off her coat and shoes.

“So, Marcus, come and meet our other guest.” Simone led them into the lounge and Barbara let out a shriek of delight on seeing Naomi. They embrace and kissed, and both started talking at once. “Marcus, this is the beautiful Naomi, from Morocco. Her father is a Sheik,” she added to impress.

“Bonsoir, Naomi. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer.” Marcus said, kissing her on both cheeks.

“Are we speaking French all evening?” Barbara asked looking deflated at the prospect.

“Sorry, my dear. I was just being polite to our hostess. But I can go with whatever the language is this evening,” he said, smiling seductively at his all-female audience.

“In that case let us keep it English, in case we have any misunderstandings,” Simone suggested, offering Marcus a smile. “Now, let's get comfortable.”

“Where's Claire?” Barbara enquired; hoping her other school friend would be there. “She called earlier to say she could not make it. There had been some family crisis, but she would not go into detail. Perhaps you can call her tomorrow to see how she is. She did sound a little distraught, but she said nothing more.”

The two old school friends sat together on a sofa, while Marcus and his hostess sat together on another sofa, opposite. Barbara and Naomi talked incessantly, each admiring the other's attire, and both being exceptionally tactile to one another. Barbara caressed Naomi's arm, and within a short time, they were kissing and petting.

“How do you find that, Marcus? What are you feeling, do tell me.” Ms Simone whispered, seeing the two women embracing intimately.

Marcus was surprised he was not feeling jealous. Maybe it was because Barbara was being intimate with a woman, and not a man, but he was sure he would have been OK with either sex, as long as he knew them. “I am . . . feeling aroused, Ms Simone,” he answered, truthfully.

“That is good,” she said, stroking his thigh and leaning into him until their mouths touched. “Let's take this to the bedroom where we will all be more comfortable.”

The bedroom was larger than Marcus had imagined, and the only piece of furniture was an enormous bed with a beautiful intricate wrought iron headboard. Above it, a large gilt-framed mirror. The walls were painted dark mauve, and a luxurious white shaggy carpet adorned the floor, while ceiling lights provided intimate shadows which completed the atmosphere that would be essential for what was to come.

“Marcus, come and lay next to me,” Simone said, patting the bed. Marcus removed his shoes and took his position next to teacher, who was wearing lime green fitted flared slacks and a white satin blouse. The two girls knew the routine and stood facing each other at the end of the bed. “The art of lovemaking is passion, seductiveness and tenderness. There are no time limits, no set routines. Every occasion should be different, but one rule is paramount . . . always undress your partner, tenderly.”

On cue, Naomi caressed Barbara's face and kissed her. She unbuttoned the front of her smock dress, sliding the material off her shoulders, letting it fall. Barbara wasn't wearing a bra, and stood petite and beautiful in pink panties, her nipples erect, ready in expectation. Naomi kissed her friend's neck and mouth, then her breasts, one by one.

Barbara lifted Naomi's angora top over her head and unzipped her jeans. By now the two girls were giggling so much they collapsed onto the bed in hysterics. “We've never done this to a male audience.” Barbara laughed out loud, and Naomi slapped her friend in jest on the bottom. “Right, get those Jeans off, woman,” Barbara demanded, and pulled at the legs, relieving Naomi of them in an instant. Simone and Marcus took their cue from the girls, as Barbara crept up the bed towards her teacher and proceed to lick her feet, while the ebony-skinned Naomi removed her bra and straddled Marcus.

Simone was right, Marcus thought - time is of no consequence when making love. It should be as long as it takes, and in this instance, it took two hours before they surfaced for refreshments.

The two girls took a shower together while Marcus and Simone sipped Champagne in bed. “So, Marcus, how is Barbara? Is she happy now after the sad episode with her parents?”

“Yes, she . . . we . . . are very happy. She has been good for me, and I for her. I think we have saved each other to tell you the truth.”

Simone touched Marcus's arm tenderly. “Thank you. I can see you are good for her.” And she kissed him on the cheek sincerely and appreciatively. “Don't be a stranger, Marcus. You are welcome anytime.” Marcus smiled at the invitation wondering if she meant just him or did the invitation include Barbara? After a moment of silent reflection, Simone rolled over on her side and fingered Marcus's chest. “So, you like the idea of making love to strangers, yes?” Marcus smiled and sank the last of the Champagne. “It is becoming more appealing by the day.”

Marcus and Barbara arrived home the next day just after lunchtime, exhausted. Over pizza and coffee, Marcus told Barbara of his idea. She listened with interest, nodding in all the right places, but always looking on with mild amusement. “So, if I understand it, you . . . we, that is . . . seduce complete strangers and teach them how to make love, then give them loads of money.”

Marcus sighed at her potted synopsis. “No, well, yes, but not quite the way you put it. It may be only once a year, or once every several years. It will depend on how the situation presents itself.” He took Barbara by the hand and sat her on the sofa. “Imagine we are on a tropical island; swimming, snorkelling, sunbathing - having a wonderful time, and we meet a young couple, say in their twenties or thirties, who we make friends with. You are very good at making friends, so it would not be a problem.”