I stood there in front of the mirror, dressed in my black tuxedo, the reflection telling me I was James Bond. However, despite looking suave and feeling debonair, my overall demeanour was one of uneasiness. Tonight I was going to walk the red carpet and be thrust in front of the press. It was a thought that had me checking the tux’s lines once again, and then I heard Sarah giggling.

“You are hogging that mirror longer than me!”

That was very unlikely, I thought.

Tonight was Saturday, October 24th, 1987, and Brenda had given us VIP tickets for the grand opening of the Sea View (Art Deco) Hotel. However, the room and complementary tickets came with two conditions.

The first was that we had to walk the red carpet and go up the grand staircase, where we would have our photographs taken. On hearing that news, Sarah immediately started to plan what to wear and practice posing in front of the mirror. Her actions made me quietly chuckle, as you would think that she had never been in front of a camera before.

However, the second stipulation was a little more concerning. Brenda had told me that when the press asked, just say you own the company you work for, as it helps give this event a greater air of importance. I didn’t like that, as it was a complete lie. I didn’t even have shares in the company yet.

Seeing my concern, Brenda had flippantly remarked, “Don’t worry, my dear; everyone fibs a bit.”

I just hoped Nigel and the people I worked with didn’t read the City Echo newspaper.

But I also knew Brenda was right, as Sarah and I hadn’t yet mentioned to Clare about the two adult contact magazines and the fact that we had replied to an advertisement we found.

Though I recently watched Sarah and Clare have sex together, Sarah was adamant that, while an occasional threesome with Clare was acceptable, it wouldn’t be more than that! She had made it very clear to me that any further sexual experimentation with another lady would be done in private and well away from friends and family.

It had been left at that, and we were waiting to hear back as to whether our reply to the contact advert had been accepted.

We had been told that the Sea View (Art Deco) Hotel was a boutique hotel. So we were a little taken aback when we arrived and were presented with a large ‘Art Deco’ building that dominated the surrounding area. But then again, this was Brenda; she oozed exuberance, and everything was bigger and grander when she was involved.

The building itself was cream-coloured and of an ‘Art Deco’ design. Formally, it had been the Sea View Garage, and it still had a spiral car ramp to access the rooftop car park. The hotel had four floors and a total of eighty bedrooms, with ours on the second floor.

However, what made the hotel stand out was its square tower. It sat right at the front of the rooftop car park and went up another two floors. At the top of it, nestled in every one of its four sides, was a large analogue clock, which at night was lit up so you could tell the time from any direction.

Inside, it had the full-on ‘Art Deco’ design treatment. It was decorated in light grey marble and had wood parquet floors; every detail was to the highest standard. The hotel’s entrance was dominated by two grand staircases, one on either side of the hallway. It was these that we had to walk up tonight and be photographed on. 

As we got ready to leave for the reception, I looked at Sarah. She was wearing a stunning, yet elegant, emerald ball gown with inlaid green, silver, and black beads. It had a deep plunging neckline, and its open back meant she couldn’t wear a bra; the globes of her D-cup breasts pushed into the dress's deep vee. It looked like they were threatening to escape. To finish the outfit off, sitting between her breasts was a large emerald. It was hanging off a silver necklace, which came with matching earrings. Brenda had surprisingly suggested them and then lent them to Sarah.

Looking at my beautiful girlfriend, I already knew which lady the cameras were going to be on when we walked the red carpet. 

With a wicked grin, Sarah suggested one additional piece of jewellery. It was the gold anklet she wore in Crete, but she hadn’t worn it out since then. It represented a key, and when wearing it, we agreed that Sarah was free to play sexually with others.

As I lovingly fastened it around her right ankle, I remarked, “No one will see it under that long dress.”

“But you will know, Mr. Bond,” she teased, then gripped my cock and smiled. It was hard. It was a moment when we both got the message. 

Ten minutes later, we stood in line waiting to walk the red carpet, which ran from the street pavement forty meters across a strip of green to the front of the hotel, and then up the hotel’s path to its entrance. It was where the board of Brenda Ltd. and the hotel's management were standing in a line waiting to greet their VIP guests. To me, it felt completely staged, but as for my blonde girlfriend, she hadn’t stopped smiling as she lapped up the atmosphere.

With darkness now upon us, from the rooftop car park, two spotlights shone their light into the night sky. As they did so, the beams swayed slowly from side to side, sometimes even crossing. It made me wonder if Brenda had borrowed them from the film studio she owned.

Outside the hotel, gentle background music played. There was a good-sized crowd of locals watching the events, and three young male photographers dressed in their nineteen-twenty attire snapped photos of anyone on or even near the red carpet. Though I didn’t say anything to Sarah, their presence made me inwardly grin. Their awkwardness gave me the distinct impression that they had been paid to be there. 

As we briefly waited, we chatted with an older lady called Jean, who was next in line behind us. She told us that she lived in Spain and was Brenda’s former business partner but was now retired. We explained who we were—a company owner and his girlfriend—and then pointed to the girl dressed all in red and on Brenda’s arm.

“She's Clare, my other girlfriend, but I share her with Brenda,” I said as the line started to move.

“Interesting; I need to hear all about it later,” Jean remarked as we started walking—and then stopping! 

Every time a fake photographer pointed a camera in Sarah’s direction, she stopped and posed for the picture. I knew we were meant to stop occasionally and let the snappers do their work, but at the speed we were moving, I thought we were going to miss the whole event. This became particularly true when a young, tall, black photographer with a badge saying Jake in capital letters asked Sarah to stop so he could take some extra photos of her.

Jean, who had caught us up, watched Sarah as others passed us in the line. She could not stop laughing at my girlfriend as she willingly held pose after pose for the young photographer.

Though Sarah was having fun and almost certainly teasing me, I couldn’t help but get irritated, and after Jake had taken a few pictures, I gently pulled Sarah along, telling my giggling girlfriend that there would be time for more photos later.

She relented, mainly because we had gotten to the start of the line of dignitaries that we had to shake hands with. First, there were some of the hotel's senior employees, and then Brenda’s board members, most of whom I had met before. 

So in turn, I shook hands with Kate, William, Sandra, Hugo, Desmond, Paula, and lastly, Krystal, the American hotel manager, before I reached the one person I really wanted to see, Clare. She was wearing a long red ball gown that had sparkly, inlaid silver pieces in it. I also noticed she had an expensive, interlocked Venus symbol bracelet around her wrist. It was partly worn to outwardly show that she was a lesbian, or, in Clare’s case, that she was happy to sleep with other women. 

However, she didn’t need it, as the fact she was with Brenda, whose hand was currently caressing her bottom, was all anyone needed to know.

I leaned in to kiss my girlfriend on the lips, but she turned her head to one side, and I kissed her cheek. That annoyed me, coupled with the fact that Clare had earlier told me that she had been spending a lot of time at Brenda’s, mainly under her. She was repaying the debt to Brenda for borrowing her butch girlfriend’s car.

“I am with Brenda tonight,” Clare whispered.

I was stunned, and my head spun trying to grab the appropriate reaction.

“David, I borrowed the car so I could be with you!”

She was reminding me of our earlier conversation, but all I noticed was Brenda’s hand squeezing my second girlfriend’s perfect derrière and the fact that Clare was enjoying its attention. 

“No, Karen,” I said, knowing Clare's younger second girlfriend hadn’t been invited.

Then I stepped in front of Brenda and did the only thing James Bond would have done. I shook her hand, then kissed her on the lips and, with a winsome smile, coolly said, “Nice hotel!”

I walked away, grinning to myself, Sarah still in tow. As I did, I heard Jean say, “You haven’t gone straight on us, Brenda,” and then loud laughter as people joined in, thinking that idea to be preposterous.

I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but sometimes it felt like Brenda and I were fighting over the same girl. I needed to remind everyone, including me, but especially Clare, that I was only loaning her out, and long-term, she belonged to me.

It didn’t matter how stubborn, pigheaded, or obstinate she was; the time was going to come when Clare realised that I was not only her man; I was her soulmate. 

Though, and perhaps strangely, I also felt Sarah was my soulmate. In my heart, she was an equal to Clare in every way. I didn’t know if you could have two soulmates; all I knew was that I loved both my girlfriends and that with Sarah we had grown closer and closer with every moment we spent together.

However, there was one major difference between Sarah and Clare. In Crete, I had willingly shared Sarah with another man, and now we had an agreement that we were on a sexual journey together, doing sexual things together that Clare had long ago experienced. 

“What was all that about?” Sarah asked, slightly stunned, though smiling.

“I don’t know,” I replied, not wanting to omit that I was trying to teach Clare a lesson and probably failing. “Come on, let’s get our formal photo taken and say a few words to the press.” It was my way of changing the subject, knowing Sarah had been keen to do a formal photo, hoping she would make the City Echo newspaper. 

So we went and had our official photos taken, then met the press, where we gave a few favourable comments on the hotel despite never eating or staying there yet. As I spoke, I thought of Brenda’s advice to me: “Everyone fibs a bit.” 

Afterwards, we retired to the grand hall, which had laid tables all around the outside of the room. With a glass of champagne in our hands and Sarah proudly on my arm, we mingled with the other guests as the room started to fill up.

The evening’s agenda was simple. With the hotel already having been open for a couple of weeks, there was going to be a symbolic cutting of the ribbon, followed by a short speech and a much longer five-course meal. Later on, there was going to be Big Band music; the band's instruments were already set up on the small stage in the grand hall’s alcove.

After Jean had cut the ribbon and come to sit at our table, we listened to Brenda’s entertaining speech. It was one where she freely adlibbed as she projected, her aura allowing her to hold court. 

As the wine flowed and the food was served, Sarah and I talked to Jean, and we learnt a lot more about Brenda’s past, though, of course, I knew some because Clare had privately told me. While I was aware of the Scottish castle and that Brenda used to have a yacht, I did not know that Jean had been in a relationship with her, as Clare had not mentioned that. It made me wonder how many other secrets Clare had held back from me during our recent talk.

Sarah seemed fascinated as she heard all this for the first time, but my mind started to drift as my thoughts turned to Clare. I started to occasionally glance over at her. She seemed to sense it, and it didn’t take long for her eyes to find mine. 

As we finished the main course, I wilted, made my excuses, and went over to Brenda’s table, where, as normal, she was the centre of attention. She stopped talking as I approached, and I apologised.

However, I got a very different reaction from what I had expected. She told me that our kiss had made her day, and she was “absolutely delighted.” I then learnt that it had been captured on camera and was likely to make the City Echo newspaper’s gossip column.

I could only groan, which brought a chuckle from the rest of the table, including Clare. So much for my James Bond moment, I thought. However, my apology wasn’t a total loss.

As I left Brenda to find the gents, Clare came up behind me and grabbed my hand. She pulled me into a nearby small room and started kissing me in a fashion that would have people thinking we hadn’t seen one another for months. It was a reaction that had caught me by surprise, and I couldn’t stop grinning when we broke apart, my hand already on her bottom and feeling what I had been missing.

“David, I do love you; just let me have my fun tonight,” Clare gasped before kissing me once again.

“As you now know, I couldn’t kiss you in front of the press.”

It was only then that I heard a loud cough. We turned around, and I realised we had found the room that I had been looking for, as two men were standing there at the urinals, peeing or at least trying to.

“I better get going,” Clare giggled and then quickly added. “David, don’t miss the first dance.”

I groaned. “What is that going to be, you and Brenda?”

“Just watch,” Clare repeated as she disappeared through the door. 

“Okay,” I said to myself, though I had no interest in watching the dancing.

I returned to Sarah just as my favourite course started—the dessert. As we ate, I told her what both Brenda and Clare had said to me, which she found as amusing as Clare, and then what my second girlfriend had told me in the gents. Sarah didn’t understand that either.

The apology had me feeling better; I was less worried about some gossip photo of me and Brenda pecking on the lips than I would have been if I had to give a quote saying I owned the company that I worked for. I relaxed and enjoyed the table conversation.

As the wine flowed and we ate, Sarah and I got to talk to the other six people around our table. Apart from Jean, there was Marion, who co-owned a jewellery business with Brenda. The emerald necklace and earrings Sarah was wearing were from a set she had sold.

Then there was Martina from Brenda's clothing boutique. We had met before. On the other side of the table were a married couple, James and Betty Davison, who were from the local tourist board, and finally a shy single guy called Spencer. He worked with computers and spent half his time looking at Sarah’s partially exposed boobs. 

As we finished our coffees, Jake, the young, black photographer, popped up and took several photos of our table before stopping and privately talking to Sarah and me. He confidently told us after our table he only had to photograph the band playing and the first ten minutes of the dance; then he was off for the evening.

The way he said it made me introduce myself as David, a large company owner. That made Sarah giggle and whisper under her breath, “At least you didn’t say you were James Bond.”

Sarah knew I was protecting my interest in her.

Jake quickly explained that he was not the press. He was merely employed by the hotel to take a few in-house publicity photos and would like to take a few of Sarah on her own.

As he said that, under the table, I could feel my girlfriend’s fingers slowly gripping my thigh tighter. We both knew that his proposal ticked a few of her sexual wish boxes, with sex with a black man and exposing herself right near the top of the list.

However, since Crete, we had agreed not to try anything with another man beyond posing nude for Stanley’s paintings. I simply wasn’t ready, and Sarah had made it clear to me that her next sexual step was sex with another, older woman, similar to what she had done in Crete with Ashley. After all, Sarah’s number one sexual fantasy was to have sex, or even a relationship with, another woman.

I looked at Sarah; her eyes were wide, almost pleading with me to say yes, just like I had for Stanley. Then I felt her hand move to touch my hardening cock; she was trying to influence my decision, and it was working.

“We need to talk, Jake. Come back here in thirty minutes after the dancing starts, and we will give you an answer.”

I thought that was a fair answer, as we did need to talk, though I already had an idea forming in my head to keep me in control and give Sarah what she wanted.

As soon as Jake had left, Sarah pronounced, “David, these will be just a few cheesecake photos and nothing more. I am certainly not going to strip naked for him if that is what you are thinking.”

“Maybe not, but that's what he is thinking, so I need to be there.”

Sarah giggled, knowing that I always liked to be there and that my observation had gone through all three of our minds.

I then cheekily joked, “Anyway, if he joins us in our hotel room, we could tick off two to five on your fantasy list in one night.” It was a comment that earned me the first nudge of the night, even though Sarah was laughing.

It had been agreed that Jake was going to take a few, slightly more private photos of my girlfriend towards the end of the night. What exactly that entailed we didn’t know, but there was one thing that I was going to make sure of, and that was that whatever happened, it was going to be me driving it!

With everything cleaned away and the free wine now being guzzled, the lights dipped around the edges of the room, leaving the dance floor and the band illuminated. The hotel’s manager took to the floor and formally welcomed everyone before telling her audience that it was time to get their dancing shoes on.

I quietly scoffed at that thought, not knowing how to formally dance.

“To get the evening started, give a big hand to Clare and Millie.”

Suddenly, the dance floor had my full attention; did I hear Clare and Millie? I thought.

I glanced towards Brenda’s table; my second girlfriend’s seat was empty.

The band started playing; it was the Charleston, a tune even I knew. But my brain was telling me that no one could dance to this.

How wrong was I?

To be continued...

Authors Note: All characters engaged in sexual acts are 18+ ©2025 wxt55uk. This story may not be reproduced in any manner without the express permission of the author.