Chapter 4: Thursday

I woke the next morning to moans and jiggles coming from the other side of the bed. Grumpily I rolled over to glimpse the twins rubbing hands over each other’s naked bodies. Didn’t these two ever go to bed and just sleep?

One of them noticed me and they both groped for my privates. I had no idea who was who and really didn’t care. These girls were starting to bother me. But nevertheless, my dick eagerly responded. I resolved to do my duty and get them out of there. Still, they got me hard enough, and I enthusiastically fucked them each in turn, the opposite number rubbing my balls to ensure a proper orgasm.

Afterwards, I grabbed a jogging outfit and trotted to the bathroom. I showered and dressed, then left through the living room. Behind me I could still hear the Daring Duo working each other over in my bed. I had no idea what I was going to do if they were still there when I returned. I decided not to come back for a while.

After a late breakfast, I headed outside. I jogged for a while, but the forecast had been for rain, and it was right. A light drizzle drenched me after only a few laps. Still, it was warm enough and I was comfortable, not overheating the way I had earlier. Only after my shoes became soaked and I started to worry about blisters did I stop.

Returning inside, a pretty brunette showed me to the locker room and the sauna. I stripped and wrapped a towel around myself. The brunette said when I finished, I would find a warm-up suit at my locker, and she would have my clothes and sneakers cleaned and returned to me. Slippers were provided, and that was okay with me. I headed into the sauna.

For once I was mercifully alone. I had never thought this would be something I’d want in this paradise of desire, but I guess I need some privacy every once in a while. Leaning back on a wooden bench, I lay the towel across my crotch and swore not to come out until I was shriveled to a prune. The hot steam felt marvelous, and shortly thereafter the sweat began to pour from my pores. I lazed there maybe an hour, and by the time I began to feel properly parboiled my irritation with the Bobsey Twins had mostly passed. I mean, gorgeous nympho twins might be every man’s wish, but what’s the old line? Be careful what you wish for, you just may get it? Tina and Louise were crazy; sooner or later they were going to end up in a bell tower, one reloading for the other.

Just when I felt well done and was deciding to leave, the door opened and about half a dozen students came in. The room really wasn’t big enough for all of us, so I stood to leave. They argued and giggled I should stay, but I really couldn’t take much more. Another time maybe, they certainly looked good. They all had promptly thrown their towels on the benches and sweat and condensation immediately began to run down large breasts, pert nipples, sleek flanks, and firm thighs. About half had shaved their pubic hair, the rest was trimmed. Shaking my head with thoughts of missed chances, I closed the sauna behind me and headed for the shower. A cold shower soon revived my spirits as it reduced my ardor. Dressing in the light blue warm-up suit and slippers, I headed to the bar. A large hoagie with the works and a couple of beers soon restored the poisons I had sweated out.

Time for a nap before I met with Wilkerson and my ‘blind date.’ Or perhaps not. As I entered my suite, I found Jeanine dusting a mirrored buffet. The twins were mercifully gone.

“Good afternoon, Mr. deFrame. I’ll be done shortly. Anything I can do for you?”

As I looked at her, I remembered the final scene in the sauna, and I felt a stirring in my groin. Jeanine was dressed in the same racy French Maid outfit as before. Yes, I came to the firm conclusion she could do something for me. Striding to her, I placed my hands on her waist and kissed her, hard and firm.

“Yes, I think so,” I replied.

Turning her to face the mirror, I stepped behind her. My fingers moving in a blur of motion, I rapidly unzipped her dress and thrust it down below her waist. It fell to the floor, and she delicately stepped out of it. I kicked it to one side. I turned her back around to face me and put my hands on her waist. I gently lifted her up and set her on the edge of the buffet, then pushed the waistband of the warm-up suit down to my thighs. My erection was hard and firm, and I promptly stepped between her widespread legs. Jeanine was already hot and juicy when I inserted it into her gaping twat. I put my hands under her knees and spread her legs wide, and I slipped into the hilt.

God! This was just what I needed! I began to buck my hips rapidly, driving my cock into her moist slit, clamping and twitching around me. Jeanine was moaning loudly as she bucked against me. We both stared down at our joined crotches, my inflamed cock pistoning madly in and out, her massive breasts swaying in time with my thrusts. They were really bouncing, up and down, side to side. I’ve always been a tit man, and these classics were what pushed me over the edge. With a mighty grunt I thrust one last time, pinning her against the buffet, erupting my seed deep within her grasping gash. Jeanine whimpered as I spent myself, cumming too.

After a few moments, slowly softening and sliding out of her twat, I pulled out. “Thanks, honey, that was just what the doctor ordered.”

Jeanine grinned back, a big shit eating grin, and replied “My pleasure.”

I headed into the can and closed the doors. I sat there for several minutes, taking care of business. Finally, relieved, I stood and went into the bedroom, to dress. But Jeanine wasn’t done yet. Still dressed only in black fishnets and heels, she was finishing with the bed. Bending over the bed like that didn’t make me think of changing, but of diving in again. My cock was hard before I could even will it so.

“Kid, I think I need another dose. What say you? Up for another round?”

“You bet. I was hoping you’d ask,” she said, laughing as she turned to face me. She jiggled her tits at me. “Any particular way?”

“Bend over and grab your knees,” I commanded. “That’s right. Now spread your legs.” I moved behind her and buried myself in her sopping cunt. This time I moved at a more leisurely pace. Jeanine came twice as my cock stroked her deeply while I grasped her hips. She bucked back against my oncoming dick, our previous workout making her nicely loose and juicy. Finally, feeling that ultimate desire come over me, I reached around her and grabbed the nipples perched on her dangling and swaying tits. I pinched them roughly and Jeanine screamed and collapsed on the bed. I followed her down, never missing a stroke, and we both came together massively. My hips and cock twitching spasmodically, I licked and nibbled her bare shoulders, and then only when completely flaccid rolled off and fell asleep.

I awoke to a phone ringing. “Mr. deFrame? It’s six-thirty. We didn’t want you to forget your dinner with Mr. Wilkerson,” said the concierge.

I thanked her and rolled to a sitting position. I felt completely rested and relaxed. Any traces of irritation with the twins was gone (Not that I wanted a rematch, mind you!) and I felt simply great. I took another shower, whistling as I cleaned Jeanine’s and my fluids off, shaved again, and dressed with care in a gray suit. Not exactly knowing what to expect, I wanted to look my best this evening. I think I did, too. Certainly, the girl at the hall desk seemed impressed as I passed. She looked rather wistful, I thought, with the knowledge I wouldn’t be dining with her instead.

I was about half an hour early, so I decided to have a drink in the bar before meeting Wilkerson. He had the same idea. I found him at a small table with a pair of tall slim brunettes, and for some strange reason I got the feeling they were European. Just an impression, but there.

Wilkerson waved me over and the three stood as I approached. Turning back to the brunettes, he bent down and kissed both their hands and they left. Then he turned back to me and extending his right hand, waved me to the table with his left. I shook the proffered palm, and we both sat down.

“Feeling better today?” Wilkerson asked. “You seemed a bit under the weather when you left yesterday. Tina and Louise helpful?”

I grunted and stared at him. “Christ on a crutch! Where in the hell did you find those two?”

Leaning back in his chair, Wilkerson gave a low deep laugh. “I guess they are somewhat unique.”

“The term I’d use is certifiable.”

Wilkerson chuckled and nodded. “They are different.”

“And what’s with the no talking routine anyway?” I continued.

Wilkerson stopped chuckling and leaned his elbows onto the table. Just then a pretty barmaid (Sheer white blouse, black satin micro-mini skirt, no undies, black fishnets and heels!) brought our drinks. Only after she left did he answer, “That’s one of those terrible stories the girls don’t tell.”

“It’s really quite tragic,” he continued. “Nice normal kids, nine years old, out with Daddy at the park. And when they go home to Mommy, it turns out she’s in bed with the next-door neighbor. Daddy blows Mommy and the neighbor away with a twelve gauge, then turns it on himself. And all the time the two darling children are watching.”

“No! Oh my God!...,” I stammered out.

“They saw everything. Everything! They screamed for over an hour until somebody heard them. And they’ve never talked since. Bounced around through foster homes, finally ran away. And somehow landed here.”

“Jesus...”

“Doc Henson says that they’ve both adjusted to a certain extent, they are stable and safe. But they will probably never speak or be quite normal. Probably do well with the right fellow.” He smiled sadly as he said this.

I returned the sad smile. “Perhaps a group discount for the Ohio State Buckeyes.”

“Perhaps,” replied Wilkerson. Then he shook his head. “Enough of this. How have you been enjoying your stay? Any more interesting questions to surprise me?”

“What? Oh, no. For a second there as I came in the door though, I thought one of those girls was my, uhh ... candidate? But they didn’t really look like what you had mentioned yesterday,” I said.

“Hmmm, no, not really,” said Wilkerson. “Helga and Olga are new arrivals. European exchange students.”

“What? Exchange students?” I exclaimed, amazed.

“Yes. An, er, associate of mine has a similar school in Switzerland, just outside of Zug. He caters to the European taste, much as I do to the American. Several times a year we arrange student visas and send a few girls to each other. Broadens their horizons, so to speak.”

I was fascinated. This had certainly never occurred to me. “Really? I had no idea! You mean there are differences?”

“Oh, my, yes!” said Wilkerson, nodding fervently. “Consider the Institute here. Surely, you’ve noticed the ladies tend towards the Caucasian American ideal, buxom, corn-fed, girl-next-door types? Europeans tend to somewhat slimmer tastes. In addition, bi- or tri-lingual skills are much more important than over here. A more cosmopolitan atmosphere.”

“Okay. I can see the difference,” I agreed.

“But there is more. America is much less tolerant, as a general rule, of such affairs. Rather puritanical, actually, in these matters. I’m sure you can imagine the difficulties if the school was located in, say, Arkansas.”

“I was curious why you were located here,” I confessed.

“Precisely. As you can see, we can take advantage of the privacy afforded by a foreign country. The cost of living is low, the climate is excellent, bureaucratic entanglements are minimal,...” (Cheap bribes!) “ ... no reporters or clerics.” I could just see this place on the TV news, ‘Sex Club discovered! Film at eleven!’

“And Europe?” I asked.

“Much more cosmopolitan, as I said. The mistress, the ‘Other Woman’, is considerably more accepted. In some fields, almost expected. It shows in the girls selected.”

“Oh? How?”

“Well, consider. All of the girls here are American. Appropriate for a large nation with a tradition of acceptance to citizens from other parts of the country, but somewhat isolationist as to foreigners. Europeans, with numerous smaller nations, are much more amenable to other Europeans not of their nation, as long as they remain quiet and well behaved. It is not at all unusual for a German businessman to have a French companion. Or a Swede to be with an Italian. Whereas an American with a foreigner would raise many more eyebrows unless she happened to be British.” Laughing, he said “For some reason, Americans love the British. Put the worst criminal before a jury, have him speak with a British accent, and the jury will waltz him out the door with the keys of the city!”

We both laughed. He was right, of course. “And Asia?” I asked. “Is there a similar setup over there?”

Wilkerson shook his head. “Not really. Oh, there is a rather superior school for Geishas outside of Kyoto, in Japan, a rather classical training, so to speak. Otherwise, the nations are all ethnically and culturally homogeneous and are really quite racist and xenophobic in many ways. No son of Dai Nippon, for instance, would be seen with a Chinese or Korean woman. And vice versa, of course. Only Japan has the critical mass of individuals capable of, um, the financial commitment necessary.”

“Fascinating,” I responded.

“Yes, it really is,” Wilkerson agreed. “I love to travel to Europe with the girls. It’s such an eye opener for them.” He glanced at his watch and downed his glass. “Come on! Drink up. Elyse is probably waiting for us.”

“Elyse? That’s her name?” I asked expectantly. I drained my drink and stood.

“Yes, Elyse Miller. I’ll introduce you and leave. Let you get acquainted. Why don’t you figure on dinner, drinks, maybe some dancing afterwards?” Taking my elbow, he led me into the dining room. To my side, I heard high heels clicking on the parquet floor. I turned to see who was approaching.

Elyse was simply a vision of the gods, a sight to bring seeing to a blind man. I was mesmerized. How I kept my mouth from dropping open for flies to come in I’ll never know. I felt like drooling. She was absolutely beautiful!

Wilkerson had fitted my wildest fantasies to a tee. Elyse was short, but not too short, and waltzed up in four-inch heels to compensate. A classic heart shaped face was framed in thick, dark auburn curls, hanging to her shoulders and halfway down her back. Her skin was a flawless untanned cream, and I suspected she burned easily. How she managed to avoid burning or tan lines in the Yucatan, I’ll never figure. She wore a dark blue dress with a sequined bodice, strapless and almost backless, that her astoundingly ample bosom spilled out of delightfully. I had no idea how she kept it on, acres of soft and inviting flesh seemed ready to fall out at any moment, and I wanted to catch. The bodice seemed painted onto her torso and flowed to an incredibly narrow waist. I would have suspected a corset underneath, but I couldn’t believe it wouldn’t show. Below the waist, the dress changed to multiple layers of absolutely sheer blue gauze. The gauze hung in sort of triangles from the waist to slightly below her knees, in what is called a ‘hanky hem’. Long, exquisite legs, shapely and flowing, clad in the sheerest dark blue hose, were quite noticeable through the gauze of the skirt, but as the layers of gauze gathered towards the waist, they overlapped to opacity. On her arms she wore shoulder length dark blue gloves. Matching navy-blue ankle strapped high heels completed the picture.

As I said, I was dumbfounded. I never noticed Wilkerson leave; my eyes couldn’t leave Elyse. I remember thinking this girl wasn’t a ten on a scale of one to ten. She was a three on the Budweiser scale, that being the number of Clydesdales it would take to tear me away from her. I have no idea what we ate or drank. I can’t for the life of me remember what we talked about, but I do remember her light tinkling laughter and big bright smile. God, those lips! Then after dinner we went into the night club and danced for hours to slow, Big Band numbers.

I started coming out of my daze at this point. When we first moved onto the dance floor, and Elyse moved into my arms, I was electrified at the feel of her naked back beneath my hands. Her skin was so warm and soft to my touch! I could feel the smooth muscles moving beneath her exquisite skin. Eventually, I moved one hand down her back to below her waist, rubbing her derriere. The twin globes beneath the filmy silk moved deliciously to the music, and I knew she wasn’t wearing a corset, or any other undergarments for that manner. Elyse noticed my hand moving and moved into me, rubbing against me seductively. I woke further from my daze as I felt my erection, straining to tear through my trousers, poke into her soft belly, and I moved back slightly. But she didn’t seem offended, realizing silently I was not offending but complimenting, and snuggled up against me, her head nestled against my neck and her breasts flattening themselves against my chest. We danced for the longest time this way, my hands wandering along her back and rear, as I hoped against hope she would inhale sufficiently, and her dress would fall to her feet.