I hope everyone has read and enjoyed "Summer Holidays" by Downing Street, a sequel to his fabulous "Lovebright Academy." (ibid.) In that earlier story, Downing Street left out some critical elements, which I felt compelled to revise in my "Lovebright Academy: the Real Story."
Unfortunately, it's happened again, although this time I think it must be from ignorance of what went on AFTER the conclusion of "Summer Holidays." You should, of course read that story first because it was complete as far as it went but afterwards ... With Downing Street's permission, I give you...
Jimmy lay with closed eyes, soaking up the sun of the long July days that were marching slowly toward August. Here by the pool at the sumptuous home of the parents of Cloeme, his current girlfriend, it would be hard not to feel some self satisfaction with his accomplishments. Certainly the De Winter family was more laid back, libidinous and, therefore, happier than before.
Philip De Winter's import-export business, where Jimmy helped out occasionally advising Philip, had been transformed from a stodgy, post-imperial holdover into a vibrant, up-to-date emporium. New staff, mainly hot young women, had introduced new life and a trendy, almost racy dress code to the old firm. Profits had soared and generous bonuses made the new employees more than pleased to be working for such an enlightened entrepreneur as Philip De Winter. Nor were the young women shy about showing their appreciation to Mr. De Winter and occasionally to Jimmy himself. Mr. De Winter usually had to set aside a whole afternoon with each grateful employee.
Felicia De Winter had changed even more. No longer the rigid, uptight matron, she had become an affectionate, fun-loving wife. Her new wardrobe of short, clingy skirts and high heels in brilliant colors was emblematic of her new happiness. She had a lot to be happy about. Every night she was getting screwed silly by a surprisingly rejuvenated Mr. De Winter. Then, too, she had discovered that, far from being a vile and degrading practice, allowing Philip to eat her to orgasm after orgasm was altogether delightful; she even found herself moved to reciprocate. A nice 69 before breakfast had become her, and of course Philip's, favorite way to start the day. Of course she had Jimmy to top her up most days at siesta time while Philip was away.
And Amber. Jimmy was most pleased about the improvement in Amber's status. From being a frightened and underpaid house slave she had become a valued and well-remunerated domestic employee. She, too, knew how to show gratitude to Mr. De Winter, usually in the den when he arrived each evening, and whenever she could to Jimmy, whose "good vibes" she knew were somehow responsible for her change of fortune.
Yes, everything was going well and Jimmy might well have allowed things to drift, pushed along as by the gentle summer breezes, giving no thought that this idyllic holiday would ever come to an end. But Jimmy was a conscientious young man. He was concerned that all this carefully crafted happiness might crumble once he and Cleome returned to school. People had a way of falling back into their dysfunctional habits if they had nothing to anchor them to their new lifestyle. Jimmy was particularly worried about Amber. Would Mr. De Winter continue to be as generous with the girl after Jimmy was gone? Especially if Mrs. De Winter reverted to HER old ways? Quite probably, no. Amber needed something to cement the bond with Mr. De Winter, something she could share with Felicia De Winter, something to make her a more integral member of the family.
And Felicia De Winter. Jimmy knew that at bottom she was not a bad woman. Her former hauteur and self-centeredness resulted mainly from boredom. Felicia lacked a purpose in life and it made her flighty and shallow. Mrs. De Winter needed a goal, something to absorb her energies and take her outside herself.
But that would be difficult so long as she was exposed to the influence of the ladies of the Art Auxiliary. Oh, they were OK right now, meeting weekly at the De Winter home for drinks of Amber's special punch and exchanging hilarious bedroom stories about how their new wardrobes, hairstyles and, in some cases, surgical enhancement, had prompted their husbands to nightly paroxysms of sex. Yet Jimmy feared trouble when the summer was over. Like Mrs. De Winter, these women needed something to occupy their attention and distract them from petty gossip and competition over their possessions and their husbands' careers.
Jimmy was aware that he had his work cut out for him. He was of half a mind to take matters into his own hands, but he realized that in these cases it was better to work indirectly. He would have to begin a series of talks with Amber, with Mr. and Mrs. De Winter, and with the ladies of the Art Auxiliary. Summer was more than half gone and time was of the essence. He would begin...
Jimmy's reverie was interrupted by a small, soft hand insinuating its way under the waistband of his swim trunks. Cleome had awakened and had scoonched even closer to him, pressing her pert breasts tightly against his side. Somehow her top had come off and Jimmy could feel the urgency of her hard nipples. He would have to hurry; Felicia would be expecting him in her bed shortly. "Jimmy, honey, you haven't done me since breakfast. I'm so horny," she pleaded. Jimmy wondered if perhaps Cleome had drunk too much of Amber's orange juice this morning, but there was no remedying that now. Her hands were tugging insistently at his trunks and he was only barely able to pull a sheet over them to prevent the obvious from becoming explicit. "Oh Jimmy, baby, fuck me. I need it so bad," she gasped as she impaled herself on his erection.
He would begin ... tomorrow.
How time had flown! Felicia could hardly believe that more than three months had slipped by since the last gathering of the Art Auxiliary. Events had conspired to keep the group apart since back in the middle of the school holiday. First, almost everyone had suddenly decided to go on long August vacations. Felicia herself nearly had to drag Philip away from his beloved business. She had made sure he didn't regret the three weeks in Barbados, although for modesty's sake they didn't get much of a tan. The lovebirds hadn't fucked that much since their honeymoon. By the time they had returned it was the end of summer and many members, like Felicia, were busy packing their children off to boarding school or university. Finally there was shopping. Lord, it was difficult to keep up the same level of sexy allure in fall fashions as it had with skimpy summer clothes. And then Felicia found she had to go out and buy still another set.
So here it was almost Halloween, but at last everyone could be assembled. Amber had prepared the punch that everyone remembered so fondly. Felicia was so much looking forward to the party. Especially with her surprise.
Nicole Loring was the first to arrive, several minutes early. Felicia hardly recognized the woman. Nicole had never been as prudish about dressing as Felicia used to be, but this outfit was practically obscene. The red leather miniskirt barely covered the essentials. She still wore matching four-inch red spike summer sandals that exposed her brightly painted toes, notwithstanding the nip in the air. The sheerest of black stockings caressed her shapely legs. Her blouse conspired more to display than to conceal her breasts, which seemed to be larger than Felecia remembered them. And she was glowing. Felicia led her friend to the living room and soon the two women were seated facing each other, each grinning like the cat that had swallowed the canary.
"I've just got to tell you first," both women blurted simultaneously. They paused in surprise and giggled.
"What is it?" both asked.
"You'll never guess!" they replied in unison.
"You don't mean..." the two women gasped at the same time.
"Yes, it's true!" they squealed together.
Several hours, numerous pitchers of punch, and uncounted platters of canapés later, a roomful of tipsy women were giggling and exchanging stories like teen-age girls at a sleepover.
"Fred was so funny about it," Cindy Van Dorn confessed. "As soon as I mentioned that I might even be WILLING to have another baby, he raced upstairs, cut my diaphragm to slivers, and flushed my pills down the toilet. The silly boy doesn't know a woman's fertility does not return for weeks, and of course I didn't tell him," she giggled. "He didn't let me out of bed the whole weekend. I was sore on Monday, but it was worth it."