Chapter 41

The morning after the night before was not nice, but copious amounts 
of water and painkillers helped, along with several cups of coffee.

All three gathered in Stan's kitchen, listlessly going through the 
motions of making breakfast. Finally, Stan said "Hey, we ought to go 
to Iorio's for breakfast. Getting out of the house would do us good, 
anyway."

"I never thought I'd hear you advocating fresh air, Stan!" grumbled 
Anne, though she had a slight smile on her face.

"He's probably right, though," Denise thought out loud.

"I know. Well, even a stopped clock's right twice a day!" Anne 
answered, and the two ladies sniggered at Stan

"I'm damned if I'm walking though. It looks freezing outside this 
morning! I'll take my car," said Stan, ignoring the jibes which only got 
worse after that.

When they entered Iorio's Stan was surprised to be greeted by Susan 
and Elaine.

"I thought you'd be still in bed, Elaine. Up all night partying, and still 
up and about this morning? I wish I could do that!" he told the 
diminutive girl.

Elaine looked shyly at Susan. "No, I kinda left the party early. You 
guys were still there. I wanted to come home to Suze..."

Susan reached over and took her hand. Stan and Anne smiled, and 
Denise said, "Aww, Ain't love grand!" and had to dodge a piece of 
breadstick thrown by Susan.

The friends sat together, exchanged news and gossip, sharing who'd 
been seen with whom at the party. After a while though Susan took 
Elaine's hand again and said, "You know that there's no formal 
invitations or anything, but we would both like you guys to come to 
our ceremony. It'll not be much, but you've all been very supportive, 
and you're our friends, so we want you there."

"Even me, Susan?" Denise said in a very small voice, looking down at 
her hands on the tabletop.

"Especially you, Denise. I think I can safely say, you know us best of 
all! And, well... I know I probably overreacted to what happened, and I 
don't want to break the friendship. So yes, we - I - want you to come, 
Denise."

Denise finally looked up at Susan. As Stan watched Denise, he saw 
hope flare, then die, eventually to be replaced by acceptance.

"I'd love to come, Susan, Elaine. Thanks," she said, quietly, sincerely. 
Stan nodded as well. But Anne seemed upset.

"When's it likely to be, Susan?" she asked.

"Probably the second week in February," announced Elaine.

"Oh, God. I don't know if I can make it!" Anne blurted. "I need to 
explain. I'm almost certainly leaving The Firm - that's not for public 
consumption, by the way. Not yet. But if it comes off, I'll be working 
God knows how many hours a day with no time off for good behaviour, 
or bad behaviour, either, Stan, so don't you say it! I'll try, honestly I 
will, but I just can't promise to be there."

Susan touched Anne's hand briefly. "It's okay, Anne. If you can't make 
it, we'll understand, but we'd love it if you were."

- - - - - - - - - -

The couple of days before Christmas were an unaccustomed rush for 
Stan. In previous years, when Caron was still alive, she'd done much 
of it herself and all Stan had had to do was shop for  and have her 
presents store-wrapped. This year was different. He'd already bought 
the presents for everyone, but wrapping them was not something he 
felt he'd be very good at.

Still and all, it was a job that he felt he had to do, so he did it. 
Actually, Stan was well pleased at the end. He was looking forward to 
giving his lovers their presents.

Then there were the cards for his more distant relatives, the aunts and 
uncles, cousins and so on. They'd all reached the point where the only 
contact they had was the twice-yearly exchange of Christmas and 
birthday cards. This was the main thing that Caron had done for him. 
He'd completely neglected it last year, but now he felt that duty was 
duty and, after all, they were family. So he looked for Caron's old 
address book.

Stan found it, began to look through it, and was quickly immersed in 
memories. Caron and he had been to this cottage in Ireland about ten 
years ago; then they'd corresponded with the owners a few more 
times. He remembered the cottage well: very Spartan looking on the 
outside, but inside it had gas-fired central heating, a satellite receiver 
and much, much more. The beds were large, and comfortable, and 
fun...

Stan spent well over an hour lost in his memories of the time there, 
and other times when he and Caron had been away together. A 
holiday in Tenerife which was their actual honeymoon, delayed a 
couple of years; a week in the highlands at another cottage that he'd 
loved but Caron hadn't; and many and various weekends away to 
various places.

He was still there, sat in his recliner when Denise came in. "Hi Stan!" 
she called from the doorway as she hung up her key.

Stan shook himself. "Hi Denise!" he answered, pulling himself 
together. It was already near dark - where had the time gone?

Denise entered the room, and Stan closed the address book, placing it 
on the coffee table with his uncompleted cards.

She took one look at his face, quickly crossed the room, bending to 
hug him. "Stan, whatever's the matter?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing really. I just got lost in memories, that's all."

"I'll make us a cup of tea and then you can tell me about it," she said.

A few minutes later, Stan began telling Denise about the cards, and 
Caron's address book, and then the memories it had invoked. She let 
him talk, interjecting a careful question every now and then to keep 
him going when he faltered. By the end Stan felt desperately tired. It 
seemed to him that Denise had shouldered a lot of the grief that he'd 
felt that afternoon. It wasn't completely gone, of course - he knew it 
probably never would - but he felt better, lighter somehow.

He looked up at the pretty red haired face and asked, for the first 
time, "Was there something you wanted, Denise?"

"Yes, actually, Stan. But you obviously needed to share that first, it's 
okay. But you do realise, it's way past the last posting date for cards?

That fact had obviously been lost on Stan. Denise's eyes twinkled, and 
she said, "Better late than never, Stan. Family is important. You can 
always blame the Post Office - just get them into the post as soon as 
you can."

Then Denise's face sobered, "Um, I wanted to ask if you minded if I 
made myself scarce this evening."

"Of course not, but...why?" Stan asked. 'Is it another woman - or 
worse, another man?' he thought, his anxiety rising.

"Anne. I thought it would be a good idea for you to spend some time 
with her... alone," she said. Stan couldn't help the sigh of relief that 
came out, and Denise looked at him quizzically.

"What? Oh, nothing - just me being silly. Um, yes, of course, Anne," 
Stan spluttered out in embarrassment. Denise just kept looking at 
him, with deceptive calm. Stan realized he had better head off a 
storm. "I thought you'd maybe found another woman," he admitted, 
feeling a partial truth was the best thing in the circumstances.

Denise said, with a tinge of bitterness, "Hah! As if. I'm afraid that side 
of me has had to go into hibernation for a while. No, I was thinking 
about you and Anne. When was the last time you two made love?"

Stan spluttered some more. "I-I can't remember, actually," he told his 
lover - his other lover, he reminded himself.

"There you are then!" Denise cried, triumphantly.

 "This has to be the weirdest conversation I've had," Stan said. "Being 
told off by my girlfriend for not making enough love to my other 
girlfriend!"

"Ah, yes, but you know I'm right, don't you, Stan?" Denise replied, 
waving a finger at him. Stan could only nod.

"Are you always this up-front about things, Denise?" he asked her 
when he'd recovered a little.

"Oh, no, Stan. I can be demure when I want," she answered, looking 
up from under her lashes at him. Stan's heart thumped at the sight, 
and he stood, reaching out to her.

"I think that, before I devote myself to my other girlfriend, this 
girlfriend might like a demonstration of how much I love her," he said, 
tenderly. Denise smiled, eyes now dancing with anticipation. She let 
herself be drawn to her feet and embraced him, offering her lips up to 
be kissed - an offer which Stan did not refuse.

Before they could get too carried away, however, Denise gently 
disengaged and eased away from him. "Not now, Stan. This day 
should be for Anne. I'll have my share another day - but your 
girlfriend needs you, now. She's been under a lot of stress, you know, 
and an unconventional relationship hasn't helped. I'm going to go now, 
and you can get yourself ready - I've already told her to come over 
here tonight."

"You what?" Stan spluttered, again. He seemed to be doing a lot of 
that today.

Denise leaned forward to him again, speaking sweetly into his ear. 
"Just let us organise your life, Stan, you know you want to!" Then she 
drew back, whirled and began to go. Stan reached for her, and she 
stopped and looked at him when she felt the hand on her arm.

"I told you, I'm going to go. Now. Get some candles and a bottle of 
wine, organise a good takeout, put a movie into the DVD player and 
look after her, Stan. I'll see you tomorrow."

Denise kissed him briefly then turned away again. Stan watched her 
go, marvelling at her. She was a complex person, he realised once 
more. 'I wonder if I'll ever really know her?'

- - - - - - - - - -

By the time Anne showed up an hour later, Stan had done as he'd 
been told. The only thing not yet organised was the food, as he wasn't 
sure what Anne would like. But the room was softly lit by several 
candles and by the glowing fake coals of his gas fire. He was showered 
and changed, had a number of films ready for Anne to choose from, 
and a nice Muscadet in the fridge with glasses ready.

Anne opened the door and called out "Hello, Stan!" He could hear her 
putting her coat up on the hook, then she walked into the room and 
stopped. Stan had barely a glance at her black dress, the one she'd 
worn dancing, before she burst into laughter.

"What?" he asked her, grinning himself - he couldn't help it.

"Denise came to see you?" she said, once she'd mostly recovered. 
"Don't bother, I can see she did. She called me and told me to come 
around, wear something nice and be prepared for a little romance 
tonight. I wondered what was going on, but now I see - and definitely 
approve!"

Anne sashayed towards him, and Stan stood, uncertain of himself, 
caught in the sheer power of her sensuality. Without removing a stitch 
of clothing, Anne had turned up the sexual heat considerably.

He reached for her as she came to him and pulled her close. She 
challenged him with her eyes, and he lifted his face to meet her as she 
bent down to kiss him. An uncertain time later, by some unspoken 
communication, they released each other.

"I'll fetch the wine," Stan said, "while you decide what you want to 
eat."

"That's easy, Stan," she replied immediately, "I'll be doing my 
damnedest to swallow your dick so that I can get the cream!"

For the barest instant Stan was shocked, then his libido kicked back in 
and he hurried into the kitchen to retrieve the bottle. He returned, 
opened it with a flourish and poured two glasses, a smaller one for him 
and a generous one for her.

Anne was lying in repose on the sofa, eyes smouldering. She reached 
for her glass and drew it to her lips. Stan couldn't help but follow with 
his eyes as she took a mouthful of the wine, clearly enjoying it but 
maintaining eye contact with her lover.

"Maybe we'll order the food later," Stan said, huskily as he laid a hand 
on her knee and gradually stroked up her leg. The dress did not 
interfere as he moved up white, soft, silky thigh towards the damp 
heat at the top. He huffed as his fingers encountered soft curls instead 
of fabric and he knew that Anne had again worn no panties tonight.

Anne's eyes were dancing with barely suppressed laughter at his 
expression. He'd stopped, suddenly, breath held, and she touched his 
face gently. As she stroked his cheek she told him in a chocolate 
whisper, "Breathe, Stan, breathe. You're no good to me if you pass 
out!"

Stan took a convulsive breath and moved. He put his arms under 
Anne's thighs, lifted and parted them. His look challenged her to stop 
him. Anne had said she wanted his dick, but clearly was happy for him 
to go down on her too, so she spread herself, pulling the dress up 
above her waist and lifting her ass to improve Stan's access.

Stan took no further time. He began planting light, butterfly kisses on 
her thigh, moving gradually up, sometimes varying by licking or 
sucking for a moment. He reached her pubic hair and twirled his 
tongue among the curls, teasing her, breathing in her heady scent, 
now playing his fingers along the outside of the same thigh.

For a few minutes he played there, then he shifted position and began 
teasing his way up the other thigh. Anne's breathing was fast and 
shallow now, and Stan looked up momentarily to find her nipples 
standing out in sharp relief under her dress. Her hips were moving 
involuntarily as her excitement mounted but still Stan hadn't touched 
her where she clearly wanted him to.

Stan's hands moved to run up the inside of Anne's thighs. He saw the 
darker hair around her cleft, neatly trimmed to allow her to wear a 
small bikini if she wanted, contrasting with the paler skin there. Her 
dress was rudely hiked up above her waist, she'd slipped off her shoes 
but was otherwise as fully dressed as she had been when she'd 
entered the room. Her face was flushed and her nipples hard, but she 
barely made a sound, just caressing his head, caressing her breasts 
through the material or sometimes pulling on a nipple.

Stan finally relented and bent his head down, gently pulling Anne open 
with his fingers and taking a long, slow lick in the sensitive area 
between her inner and outer labia. Anne moaned, low and long, then 
did it again when he repeated on the other side of her sensitive pussy. 
Stan kept up the gentle treatment for several minutes, building Anne's 
arousal to higher and higher levels. Her juices liberally coated his 
tongue, her taste exquisite. She was hot, wet and humping, and Stan 
could no longer hold himself back but drove his tongue into the 
furnace.

Anne actually yelped, and Stan grinned at being able to gain the upper 
hand. Although, judging by the way she was moving, the heat and 
wetness, and the noises, Anne was enjoying herself all right. Stan 
wormed a finger into her, twisting his hand palm-up so he could crook 
the finger, looking for her G-spot. Soon her body went rigid as he 
rapidly flicked his tongue around her clitoris. She nearly exploded, and 
Stan was surprised to hear a high, keening wail as her pussy 
convulsed around his finger as he massaged her.

Stan moved back onto his heels on the floor, watching Anne shake her 
head, blonde hair matted to her forehead, drawing in deep breaths. 
Her eyes were wide and staring beyond the ceiling, her consciousness 
elsewhere. Stan was awed by the power of her orgasm.

"GOD!" she cried, and turned her head towards him, eyes finally 
focussing on his. "That was amazing! I don't think I've had one as 
good as that before, Stan. Are you trying to kill me?"

Stan felt her juices drying on his face, unable to speak, still overcome 
by the sight and feel and taste and sound of Anne's rapture. He loved 
her, he delighted in her orgasms, but this one did seem to be 
something special.

"How long have you been waiting for that, Anne?" he asked, shrewdly.

"Too fucking long!" she answered. "It's been weeks, Stan. I've been 
too busy, too tired, for way too long. You'd got me used to so much 
more, and then... then it all stopped. 

"But now, it's your turn, Stan."

They quickly removed their clothing. Anne, with far less to remove, sat 
down to wait for him, smiling as he balanced precariously on one leg 
removing each shoe and sock in turn.

She licked her lips, suggestively, while glancing down to his penis, 
jutting firmly in anticipation. "I believe I see something I promised I'd 
try to swallow," she said, softly. But Stan heard her well, and his dick 
swelled even more. "Ooh. It looks like someone likes the idea!"

Anne got up from the sofa and Stan sat in her place, legs apart. Anne 
took up a place on her knees in-between them. She reached for his 
erection, gently rubbing it at first, seemingly testing it. She seemed to 
be satisfied at what she found; she held it firmly, began licking the 
crown, wetting it, and kissing it. She made an 'O' with her mouth, 
slowly taking him in. Stan's breathing fluttered as he felt the wet heat 
of her mouth. Her tongue was an agile snake moving around him. 
Anne drew back and kissed the bulbous purple acorn again before 
lowering herself, deeper. Stan felt the back of her throat this time, and 
Anne held him there, still for a moment, before breathing in through 
her nose and forcing herself down again, further.

Stan could see the concentration on her face. He was frankly amazed. 
Anne had taken him deeper than she'd ever been able to manage 
before. Stan wasn't big, but there was barely an inch of his manhood 
outside Anne's lips. It felt incredible - but Anne wasn't finished yet. 
The flaring of her nostrils drew his gaze, and then she pushed herself 
down - and there was nowhere further to go. Stan felt the end of his 
steel hard erection being massaged by Anne's throat muscles. Then 
she drew back, slowly, letting his dick emerge from her lips.

"Wow!" Stan managed.

Anne smiled at him, though there were tears in her eyes too. "I've 
been researching, Stan. You can find 'How to do' articles on anything 
on the 'net!" Stan smiled back, but Anne continued, "I'll have to 
practice though Stan, I can't quite manage that with enough comfort 
yet. So you'll have to put up with an ordinary blowjob."

"Anne, my love, don't you know? There's no such thing as an ordinary 
blowjob. They're all wonderful, just some are more wonderful than 
others!"

"Spoken like a man!" she told him, mockingly.

"Spoken like a man who likes having his dick sucked!" Stan replied, 
and Anne thumped his thigh in mock disapproval before taking him in 
her mouth again.

Anne loved to make love to Stan's dick with her mouth. She kissed, 
she caressed, she sucked, she nibbled, she used her hands, she used 
her lips and her tongue. She took her time, taking Stan to a peak and 
holding him, letting it subside, refusing to take him over. Stan was 
going out of his mind. His hips jerked reflexively, he had to use all of 
his will to keep from driving Anne's head deeper onto his dick by 
grasping her head and forcing himself in. Anne played him like a 
virtuoso, building up his climax before settling into a hard, fast jerk-off 
rhythm.

"Wait!" Stan grated out. "I want to be inside you!"

Anne instantly stopped what she was doing. She stood, knelt on the 
sofa and placed her forearms on the cushion, bracing herself against 
the backrest. Looking back, she commanded, "Do me Stan! Hard!"

Stan leapt to obey. He knelt behind her, holding her hip with one hand 
and his spit-slick rod in the other. They adjusted heights and he placed 
himself at her entrance and pushed smoothly inside.

Stan had been close, but he wanted to enjoy this, and help Anne to 
enjoy it too, so instead of simply pounding away he started more 
slowly, with long, careful strokes. But Anne had brought him close to 
the brink and he soon saw that he'd not be able to hold out for long. 
Fortunately Anne was still very aroused herself, and the angle allowed 
his dick to rub her G-spot. Stan's thrusts increased pace, as he 
couldn't stop himself, then he felt her pussy begin to flutter around 
him as Anne neared orgasm.

Anne's vaginal muscles clenched. She wailed again, the sound getting 
higher and higher in pitch until it cut off, and Anne just held her 
breath. Stan suddenly found it very difficult to keep thrusting. In fact if 
she hadn't been so slick with arousal he couldn't have done it. But he 
pushed his way through anyway, grunting with the effort himself.

Finally Stan went. His awareness shrank to his penis and balls, he felt 
the semen coursing up and into Anne, coating her insides. Once, twice, 
three times he erupted, then there were only a few small dribbles left. 
Stan was left desperately gasping for breath, the muscles in his 
buttocks and lower back were already aching and his heart was going 
hell for leather.

Gradually he came back to his senses. He reached down and drew 
Anne to sit next to him on the sofa. Her face was flushed. As he 
watched, she reached down and wiped a finger through her pussy lips, 
raising it to her eyes and showing it to Stan, too, before licking it off. 
It was an amazingly sensuous, actually downright sexy gesture and as 
Stan watched in disbelief his dick twitched a little.

Once they'd recovered their breath a little Stan poured out some more 
wine. He sank half a glass in one deep swallow before taking another, 
smaller one and swilling it around in his mouth for a moment. Anne 
was equally thirsty, and besides she was massaging her throat. "I'm 
glad I could do as much as I did, Stan, but it's something that I'll have 
to get used to," she explained. "You're getting me doing things I've 
not done with anyone before, Stan. I love you, and I love the way you 
make love with me."

"Now," she said, her voice changing to a command, "go grab a couple 
of glasses of water while I phone up some food. I'll get some Indian 
tonight." Stan nodded his assent and was in the kitchen before he 
realised... "Anne?"

"Moment!" she called, obviously on the phone.

Stan walked back into the room holding two glasses of water. "Your 
order, ma'am," he told her in a waiter's tone.

"Thanks," she replied absently as she was completing the order for the 
food. She put the phone down and looked up at Stan. "What?" she 
asked, seeing his expression.

"You ordered some water, Anne. I delivered it." But Stan couldn't keep 
from smiling, "You just can't help yourself can you, sweetheart? You 
just simply ordered me to fetch you some water, and I did. You've got 
that tone to your voice that you use sometimes, and people just can't 
help but obey!"

"Um... sorry? I don't know what to say, it's just me being me."

"Yes, I know, and I love you for it - but how do you think Denise 
would have reacted just then? She'd have done what I did, but I think 
she might well have been upset when why became clear to her. It's 
part of why people think of you as imperious - you've simply 
developed this habit of ordering people sometimes."

Anne held her head in her hands. "Oh, God. Am I that bad?"

"It's not bad, Anne, it's just something you do. When you're at work, 
leading a team - and you are a natural leader - it's appropriate. When 
it's just me, I don't mind at all. But if you try that with Denise, when 
it's just us, you'd better watch out!"

"I'll try to remember, Stan," she told him with a faint grin, "but what's 
this about 'I don't mind at all.'" You like being told what to do?" she 
asked, eyebrows high up her forehead and a challenging look in her 
eye.

"Most of the time I'm content to follow your lead, Anne, you know 
that," he told her, "but I noticed something just now. You like it when 
I tell you to do things when we're having sex, don't you? You couldn't 
get ready for me to enter you fast enough when I told you what I 
wanted."

Anne couldn't meet Stan's eyes. She was blushing furiously, but told 
him, in a very small voice, "I guess sometimes I like to be told what to 
do, Stan. Can I tell you a fantasy?"

Stan lay back on the sofa and pulled Anne to him, so that she was half 
laying on him, her head on his breast. "Go on, Anne, I'm listening, my 
love."

"It's a bit embarrassing. I've thought about this off and on for the 
longest time. I'm naked, except for a strip of fabric around my throat. 
I'm completely, willingly subservient to someone whose face I never 
see in the fantasy. He enters the room from behind me, orders me 
onto the bed on all fours, facing the wall. I jump to do his bidding and 
he simply enters me and uses me for his pleasure. I'm only too willing 
to do as I'm told. In the fantasy, that is. He pulls out of my pussy and 
orders me to turn around and suck him, and I do, and I love it. But I 
keep my eyes firmly down, never raising my gaze. Then he pulls out of 
my mouth before I've brought him off and turns me around again. This 
time he plunders my ass, Stan, he buggers me mercilessly, simply 
forces himself in and pounds into me, making me come just as he 
comes himself.

"It's at that point that I come, for real, when I fantasize about it, Stan. 
But I've never really wanted to do that - the ass thing, I mean. I know 
people do, I'm not that naïve - but I couldn't, I couldn't."

"Denise does," Stan murmured without thinking.

Anne heard him. "Does she now? Did you like it? Does she like it? 
Never mind, I don't really want to know - just don't ask me, Stan. 
Okay?"

"Methinks the lady protesteth too much!" Stan countered. But then he 
said, placatingly, "Don't worry my love. I'll not ask you to do 
something you're not happy about. But tell me more about the rest of 
it, the willing slave-girl thing. Do you want to try that sometime?"

Anne was quiet for a second or two, then said, shyly, "Maybe. I'll make 
sure you know when I'm ready to try that for real, Stan."

- - - - - - - - - -