They were holidaying on an island, each between jobs. It was just a short flight from home and was said to be a good place to relax and have fun. And it had certainly proved to be all that was claimed for it, Em thought.

They’d been having a drink at their hotel’s beach-side bar one afternoon when a man, apparently a regular customer, decided to make friends with them. Em recalled Ambrose saying to her later, “He really just wanted to get into your pants, Em.” He was right. She even remembered thinking that herself, at the time.

But the man had offered them dinner and suggested they go to a nightclub afterwards, and Em was in a playful mood.

As they left another drinker at the bar had said to Ambrose, “Be very careful, Monsieur.” Ambrose had smiled his thanks. He hadn’t needed the warning, but it was nice that someone cared.

They went with him to a restaurant in town and ate; quite well as it turned out. The difficulty lay in maintaining conversation in French. They had managed, Em recalled with a smile, but like Wellington’s assessment of the battle of Waterloo it was a damn close thing.

Pierre (that was his name) had been very closely attentive to Em over dinner. Ambrose had told her later he felt a bit like a Parisian sidewalk deposit; a necessary but fundamentally unhelpful part of the ambiance.

Dinner finished, Pierre then suggested they drive two blocks to a nice little nightclub he knew where they did a very hot floorshow and had some very pretty girls. They could spend a couple of hours there and then go back to their hotel by taxi if they wished.

Ambrose was sure Pierre wished that he would in fact get in a taxi and go back to their hotel. But that wasn’t about to happen. And Pierre had mentioned pretty girls.

A little later they were seated in a private room at the club, a bottle of hugely overpriced whisky on the table, waiting for the floor show to begin. Pierre leaned over to Ambrose, pointed to the other side of the room, and said to him, “Pretty girls there. Why not go and dance with them?”

Ambrose looked at Em. Doing this, he got the message that he should go and have a dance. He could come back for the floorshow.

So that’s what he did. But he didn’t make it back to Em and Pierre’s table for the floorshow, because he was watching it from another one. He’d planned to return but “his” girl told him it would be more fun to watch it with her.

She said her name was Giselle and Ambrose had noted that the bits of her that he could see, which were quite extensive, were a lovely pale coffee colour. Since it was obviously going to be possible, he decided he should check out the rest of her too.

Em chatted with Pierre. He had suddenly found some English, she noted with an inward smile. The lights in the private room were dimming in preparation for the floor show. She felt Pierre’s hand on her knee. She looked at him and was about to say “No” when he slid it up her thigh under her skirt and into her little lacy panties.

But she didn’t say “No.” Instead she felt instantly hot and told him, “You shouldn’t be doing that.” And he had said with a smile, “I know I shouldn’t be doing it.

But do you like it?” He put a finger into her pussy and briefly excited her clitoris.

Em said: “Yes, I like it. You are a bad man. But it is very, very nice.” Pierre said, “You are wet, so I know you find it very, very nice. Soon the floor show will begin and you will want much more.”

The lights dimmed fully. A spotlight lit up the little stage. On it was a massage bed. On the bed was a fully naked woman. Beside the bed was a fully naked man about to begin giving her a very hot massage.

Em looked on entranced. She felt Pierre bend down and take off her panties and put them in his pocket. She heard him say, “You can have these back later.”

She opened her legs under the table.

Pierre put his hands into Em’s blouse and unclipped her little lacy bra. He pushed it up from her breasts and pinched her nipples, now very erect.

Em said, “Oh!”

Pierre said, “You have very hard nipples. You are thinking about how nice it will be to have them licked and bitten on a massage bed after the show.”

Em’s mouth went dry with lust. She murmured, “Ohhh!”

On the stage the naked masseur had now pushed the woman’s legs wide apart. She was lying on her tummy. She had a full, rich beaver and a hot pink slit that had suddenly opened, parting the hair. The man bent down and licked it.

Em felt Pierre’s fingers fully enter her own hot wet pussy.

Pierre said, “You have a very hot wet and deliciously furry pussy. You are thinking about how nice it would be to have it massaged.

Em said, “Oh god!”

Pierre bent down, drew up her skirt, and licked her pussy. He said, “With a very hot tongue.”

Em said, “Oh god! I have to get a massage like that.” She parted her legs further for him. He put three fingers into her furry little slit.

He said, “There are massage rooms here at the club. Would you like a hot massage?”

Em said, “Here? What about Ambrose? I can’t just disappear on him.”

And Pierre laughed and said, “Giselle will take care of him.”

Em thought about this, trying to retain rational thought. “It would be a full massage?” she asked Pierre. “Who is the masseur?”

Pierre took her hand and guided it to his crotch. He was vastly erect.

He said, “I am the masseur.”

And Em said, squeezing Pierre’s bulge, “Oh god! I want that after the massage.”

Pierre said, “You shall have it.”

Em said, “When?” Pierre said, “Watch the rest of the show. Then I will take you to one of the rooms and we’ll have our own show.”

On the stage the “masseur” had gently rolled his “client” over onto her back. Her legs were open and so was her pussy. The masseur was massaging her clit. She was moving in ecstasy. Em knew that the show would end with a fuck.

That excited her beyond measure. She wanted to have one too.

Pierre leant over and whispered, “She will come you know and so will he. This is a private room, after all.”

Em said, “I know. I am so hot.”

And Pierre said, “Not as hot as you’ll be when it happens to you. It will, very soon, when I see your whole body entirely naked on a massage bed.”