Donna, our chauffeur, opened the limo's twin doors.

The sight before Karen and I, made us gasp, then grin and giggle.

Our stares had taken in a restaurant table; it had been laid for two. Nothing had been skimped, with its red tablecloth, white china plates, silver cutlery, and, for a centrepiece, a single lit candle. 

But there was more.

The table was set in a white, Arabian-style tent, which had been fully closed on its two sides, the rear open, with its curtain door draped on each side. The tent's front was completely open; it had a glass window panel to keep any gentle breeze away.

Inside, it had been decorated, with exotic pot plants, a Bedouin sofa and cushions; there were lots of cushions. In each of the tent corners burnt four electric lanterns, their fake flames flickering away. There was a string of dull yellow lights connecting each corner to the centre, giving the ceiling a creamy glow.

And then there was the view.

We may have been located in a rooftop car park, but we were four floors up and back from the seafront road; a spiralling ramp taking us up to this floor. To our left was a tower, two floors high, with a large lit analogue clock on each side. It read, seven-thirty.

The tower, like the rest of the building, was cream-coloured, but what caught my eye was the tower's lift. It was huge and built to take a car. It was clear, that the building we were on top of had just been refurbished as everything looked freshly painted. Its style was old-fashioned, yet defined.

Then there was the Southern view, nothing but sea, the English Channel. To our right, the sun was now low in the sky. It would soon set in the West, over the distant city where Karen and I lived.

It was only then that our attention was caught by Donna. She indicated for us to step into the tent, and she closed the curtain door behind us. As she did so a younger lady, maybe thirty, appeared and stood next to our chauffeur. She had blonde hair and was dressed in a white blouse and a black skirt. She also had a silver nameplate pinned to her top. In clear black letters, it read Krystal.    

The two ladies were grinning at us as we took it all in. The limo had felt unreal, but inside this tent, it was another world.

“I leave you in the capable hands of Krystal,” Donna stated. “I will be back a nine-thirty.” With that, she left the same way she had come in, and our attention turned to the younger woman.

“Welcome to the Sea View (Art Deco) Hotel,” she announced. In doing so, she drew out her R, making me realise she was American, though her accent was only slight. As we were shown to our seats, I noticed a silver plate with its domed lid and a hotel business card had been placed in front of both of us. Maybe it was for the first course, I thought.

“Did you know about this?” Karen quietly asked as we both looked around the tent.

I explained that I didn’t.

Krystal opened another bottle of champagne, which was in its silver ice bucket by the side of the table. I noticed that it was the same make as the one we were drinking in the limo, and I thought of Brenda.

Karen and I gently clinked glasses and, with a smile, said, “Cheers.”

This was typical Brenda, over the top, unreal. She just couldn’t let me go on a simple date with Karen. She had to get involved, take over, and then let things run away into her extroverted and extravagant world.

With our glasses topped up, Krystal told me to open the domed tray that sat in front of me.

I did as requested.

Inside was a light blue envelope with my name on it and underneath it said, “Open me carefully.”

I showed the envelope to Karen and then looked at Krystal. She was smiling. Her smile was enough for me to realise that she knew exactly what was coming.

Using a knife, I cautiously opened it. Inside there was a carefully folded single piece of paper. On the first fold, it had an instruction. It said that I needed to read each line loudly, so Karen could hear. It was signed with just a B… It was Brenda!

I read aloud what was written on the first paper fold to Karen.

She took a large sip of her champagne and then asked me, “Is this part of your game with Brenda?”

Slightly cautiously, I replied, “I think so, though this is new to me too.”  

I carried on and unfolded the next line on the paper. As Karen listened on, I read, “Clare, this setting has to be better, more romantic than what Crete can offer.” I smiled; it was, though I also thought it was probably not as warm.

Slowly, I unfolded the paper. It was a simple instruction; it just said to stand up.

I did as instructed and told Karen.

Hesitantly, I looked at the next line. This wasn’t in my tonight’s date script, though in all honesty, none of this was. I now realise with Brenda, you don’t get scripts.

“Karen, if you are wearing a bra? Please take it, take it off.”

I added the, please. The words on the folded paper being a little more direct, they had simply said… Karen, take your bra off.

I felt Krystal’s stare. We looked at each other, and I thought… Was every little thing being reported back to Brenda?

Karen giggled and looked down into her dress top, and then looked at my elevated boobs; before returning her eyes to mine.

“There is no bra down there. With these little things, I don’t need one.”

Karen’s breasts, I knew, were a thirty-two and a B-cup. She wasn’t at all flat-chested as she was trying to imply. Though tonight with the bustier I was wearing, mine looked massive compared to hers.

The next line I read aloud, “Karen, take your knickers off.” I then added a hopeful, “Please,” whilst looking at my date. She hadn’t moved.

“You don’t have to do this. I am just reading what is on the paper,” I softly added. Still hope full.

Karen just giggled and then finished her glass of champagne.

“This is all Brenda,” I said. “She is interfering and playing her games.”

“Looks like I might need to meet her soon if she wants to involve me,” Karen giggled. Her champagne glass was once again refilled by the ever-present Krystal.

I continued.

“The next line just says for you to open your domed cover.”

Karen did as requested.

Underneath the lid was a pink envelope with Karen’s name on it. She carefully opened it and giggled. “Well, it says, enjoy your meal; it is Moroccan. That’s something I never tried, though I guess it will be spicy.”

“There another line under it,” Karen chuckled. She was now enjoying herself.

“You have to take your white blouse off for the rest of the evening. It is a Brenda request.” She then added with a smile, “Krystal and Donna won’t mind, and neither do I.”

I grabbed the envelope to check. The giggling Karen was right. It clearly said that. I glanced around to check if this place was private. It was. With me feeling more body-confident, I started undoing the buttons.

Standing there, feeling on show, the two K’s eyes on me. I slowly unbuttoned my blouse, and with each one, a little more of my cleavage was revealed. I felt my pussy becoming moist. It was the thrill of being on show, my nipple's rapid hardness, and those Goosebumps on my skin.

It felt like Karen’s and Krystal’s eyes had beaten my fingers to the big reveal. Their grins told me that they had already visually undressed me.

I removed my blouse, put it over the back of my chair, and then pushed out my chest, tonight I felt proud of it with my renewed body confidence. I wanted the two girls to take in the view of my boobs, their erect nipples on display for all to see. As I stood there, my hidden pussy was enjoying the thrill of the moment. My exhibitionist excitement was just as great as my younger girlfriend and Krystal’s voyeuristic kick. 

“I like the way you obey your older girlfriend,” Karen giggled; the champagne was beginning to make her very giggly.

“Perhaps you need to obey me and remove your panties,” I hopefully teased.

That brought another champagne-fuelled giggle from Karen, but no movement in the panty department.

With Krystal now busy preparing the food, I sipped my champagne and looked at the business card once again. The Sea View Hotel, that name had come up at the Brenda Ltd board meeting yesterday.

“Do you know anything about this?” Karen questioned.

I told her that I had no idea, nor did I know anything about the members club where we were going to later other than it was called Club OXO.

“After the beef stock cube,” Karen asked.

To keep life simple, I replied, “Yes.”

Krystal reappeared and refilled our drinks. As she did, I looked at her, and then, in a flash, it came to me. I remembered seeing her naked photo on Brenda’s bedroom wall.

“You are number ten,” I tentatively said, “And this is Brenda’s hotel.”

Krystal seemed a little surprised I had worked out that Brenda used to be her girlfriend. She went on to explain everything as she served the Moroccan food, couscous. It was a type of food I had never had before.

Brenda and Krystal had been official for only six months as she had to return to Atlanta in the USA to run the family-owned hotel. Then, years later, Brenda phoned and asked if I would be interested in part owning and running a hotel here in the UK.  

“Yes,” I said. “It took another year, but then, Brenda and I went into the hotel business. She had purchased this place. The nice thing is Brenda gave me a chance to acquire a twenty-five percent share in the business, with the bonus of her team looking after all the essential things, like the accounts.”

I briefly thought of William and Sandra, Brenda’s accountants.

“Clare, I just do the front-end work. It is the bit that I love. Do you know Brenda looks after all of her ex-girlfriends?”

I didn’t know, but I nodded.

“Did you know Brenda loves Art Deco buildings?”

I told Krystal that I didn’t, and then I thought of the rather bland block she lived in. The mini car she normally drove, and the fact she preferred not getting involved in any of her businesses. She had people for that.

“This used to be the Sea View Garage, but selling cars seemed to be unviable without modernising the building. That was something they couldn’t do as the garage was listed due to its Art Deco exterior. Brenda heard about it and bought the premises with the proviso that she could turn it into an Art Deco hotel.”  

“You must come to the grand opening in October. As you might have guessed, it is not quite finished yet.” Krystal laughed, “Now I think about it, you are our first guests.”

We both said we would like that, though as I spoke, I realised I would be going with Brenda and not Karen or David.

Our meal was excellent, romantic… and giggly. But what surprised me was that I completely forgot about my breasts being on show. The only thing covering them was a thin black mesh of transparent material. It was similar to having a fake cock between my legs; what felt strange had become the norm.

With Krystal fussing all over us, we enjoyed each other’s company as we watched the sun disappearing beyond the horizon, the sky briefly a technicolour coat of colours.

We moved to the Bedouin sofa and drank a strong Turkish coffee, the last of the champagne gone. Apart from having my breasts permanently on display, there had been nothing sexual going on. But now alone, and the champagne working its magic, I moved my hand to Karen’s knee.

“We're still only on our second date,” she pointed out as she turned and kissed me.

Her hand unexpectedly moved between my legs, where she squeezed my piece. “I could get used to you wearing this,” she teased.

“Don’t forget you promised I could do anything I liked to you tonight short of fucking you,” I reminded Karen.

That brought another alcohol-fuelled giggle. I moved my hand between her legs and told her to open them. I was driving the conversation. Brenda would be proud of me.

Karen looked at me and complied, my fingers sliding into her dark black panties. Her eyes suddenly awake, wanting.

It may only be our second official date, but I wanted Karen. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fake cock I was wearing, but I wanted to see my girlfriend cum.

My mouth found hers, and my fingers moved downwards, through her forest of ginger hairs and into her damp folds. I started rubbing her, my mouth now nibbling her neck.

The sudden need to see her cum became all-consuming, my slippery fingers vigorously working her clit; her hairy pussy pushing back against my hand.

She groaned. I marked her neck. It was a small love bite, just like she did to me last night.

Karen was my girlfriend, not Brenda’s and not anyone else’s. She was mine. It was a new feeling as both my mind and my body felt different. I was in control. I was Karen’s top.

Then it happened; I felt her body convulse, my girlfriend’s legs wrapped tightly around me. She wanted me. My fingers were wet; her panties were soaked, and her neck was marked.

Karen was mine!

We broke apart as she recovered. Her eyes opened, and she still wantonly looked at me as I smiled back at her. I had masturbated to Karen to her first cum with someone else. I felt the power, the entitlement. Was it because I had a fake cock between my legs?

It suddenly felt real.

Was this really me? I asked myself as I felt my girlfriend move in my arms.

“Clare, these are yours,” Karen whispered. “They're too wet to wear.”

She had removed her black panties; they were in her hand, and she passed them to me. As she did so, I had my first true glimpse of her pubic hair. It confirmed, as I had earlier said, that she was truly a ginger.

Karen handed me her damp knickers, and I put them into my jeans pocket and said, “Thank you. I will appreciate them tonight.”

Karen giggled again.

We were well-fed and a little tipsy, and in my case, still very horny. I hadn’t yet cum.

It was at that moment Donna returned and announced it was time to go to Club o-X-o. However, both Karen and I had to do a double take as she was no longer in her chauffeur uniform.

Instead, she was wearing something Madonna could wear on stage during her Who’s That Girl world tour. It was a white basque with black net tights, the bra cups pointy and coned.

Karen and I just sat there staring; I think our mouths were open. We wondered why the change of attire, so I asked the obvious question. That produced another light blue envelope; this one was handed to me by Donna.

It read… Clare, I hope you and Karen enjoyed your meal; I am sure both the view and the company were exquisite. Donna will be escorting at o-X-o as tonight you are there to observe… I know your cunt has a habit of leading you into trouble! It was signed B.

I reluctantly showed the note to Karen, and thankfully, she just shrugged and then giggled. I wasn’t ready to answer any awkward questions about how my pussy had, in the past, led me into trouble.

But the note did bring with it an element of uncertainty. What were we letting ourselves into?

Donna must have sensed something as she then told us that it was nothing to worry about and that Karen would be home before midnight.  

We said our goodbyes to Krystal and then returned to the limousine; we were going to Club o-X-o.

Authors Note:- All characters engaged in sexual acts are 18+  ©2024 wxt55uk. This story may not be reproduced in any manner, without the express permission of the author.