Chapter 1

With satisfied smiles about their faces, the two men thanked their wives for the meal then, pushing their chairs back they stood up and walked off in companionable silence to the gate leading to the small arboretum attached to the property. Mother and daughter gathered together the dishes from the table under the apple tree, in and around which the daughter, Trish and Mike, now her husband, had played as kids. The dishes were transferred to the kitchen and the women set about the washing up.

"Mummy," said Trish, seemingly casual as she passed her mother a rinsed dish, "how can I get more life back into my bed-time fun?" They had always been able to talk about intimate things but this was a bit more direct than their usual conversations. She pressed on, "I've grown up hearing your and Daddy's lustiness – I'd like some of that in my bedroom but don't know what to do."

Sarah, her mother, paused for a couple of seconds, looking into her eyes as if searching for something then continued drying the dish. "Let me think..." Mechanically Trish passed her the dishes as she cleaned each one and seemingly just as mechanically, Sarah dried and put them away. Trish thought of the ten years of her marriage and how things had drifted into a kind of staleness in the bedroom. Apart from heavy petting and exploratory groping in their adolescence, Mike and she had had no other lovers but each other. They had started as probably all young lovers do, determined to explore each other and learn new things. Now, although their love life was better than a 'wham, bang, thank you ma'am', there was no freshness to it anymore. She envied her parents because she often heard them going at it hammer and tongs, though always behind closed doors.

They finished the dishes in silence then Sarah turned to her daughter and asked, "Have you and Michael talked this over?" She always called him Michael although everybody else said Mike.

"Yes, Mummy. He wants it too. He knows I'm going to speak to you today."

"Then he won't be too embarrassed to talk about it with Daddy. All four of us together?" She cocked her eyebrows inquiringly.

"Well," Trish gave a little nervous giggle, "he may be a little embarrassed but he'll be OK."

"Grab some glasses," Sarah said as she took a couple of bottles of white wine from the fridge. They had just settled down under the apple tree when their husbands returned through the gate and joined them. Trish's father opened the bottle and poured them all a glass which they raised briefly with a mutual, "Cheers!"

When they had all settled comfortably in the warm airs of a summer evening, Sarah gave Trish a quick wink, turned to touch the older man's thigh to get his attention then, as bold as brass, she announced, "Michael and Trish want to spice up their love life. Right, Michael?"

Mike blushed like crazy – he can be terribly shy – took a calming breath and stammered, "Y-y-yes. We want to try some new things. I don't know. We love each other..." he turned to his wife who smiled her love back at him in confirmation, " ... but things seem sort of stale. Unexciting, if you know what I mean."

George, Trish's father nodded understandingly, thought it over for a few brief seconds, looking intensely at both Trish and Mike, then said just one word. "Greengages!"

"I think so, too," agreed Sarah. "Tell them, George."

"Where do I start?" he said with a deep sigh. "OK, remember when you were kids, every month your mother and I used to send you two to Uncle John and Aunt Mary for the weekend and the next week we would have Nigel and James over here?"

It was true, Trish thought. Mike and she had grown up together. His parents, her parents' next-door-neighbours, had been killed in a plane crash when the kids were both four years old and somehow it fell to George and Sarah to foster Mike. The two of them were inseparable as children and their friendship turned to romance in their teens and thence to a very happy marriage. The kids used to be packed off to spend every fourth weekend with her cousins: Nigel was a year older than them and James about their age. Then Trish's cousins would be with them the next weekend.

Greengages is a rambling old manor house, about ten miles away, set in its own massive grounds. It belongs to Tom Fairfax, or 'Uncle' Tom when they were kids – they had an open invitation to use his swimming pool any time they could persuade their parents to take them over but he wouldn't allow children without at least one adult. 'Uncle' Tom, a life-long bachelor, always kept a fridge full of delicious cold drinks and the kids used to love to spend days at summer games playing in and around his pool. Their mother always brought a basket of food with her and often there would be two or three different families there at the same time, all joining in the fun and sharing picnic lunches. Tom was one of George's wealthier clients and one of the very few whose portfolio he looked after in retirement.

"Greengages," continued George, "is where we..." he indicated himself and his wife, "used to spend those weekends when you were away. John and Mary went when we had the boys over with us. But Greengages means much more to us than a happy garden for children to play in. Each weekend it changes in character and becomes strictly 'consenting adults only'. We were – are – a group of people who like to get together for a happy time. And a happy time means we do what we like. Dress is optional, as is sex in any of its manifestations between open-minded adults."

He looked directly at Trish then Mike. "Do you both understand what I'm saying?" They both nodded. "Would you like to join us for a weekend? Several of our friends have already asked us about you but we have waited until you were ready. You already know most of the other guests. I think, perhaps, you are ready now. Sarah?" he looked towards his wife for confirmation.

"Yes, I agree. Now why don't you and I leave them for a while and let them talk this over in private." She finished her glass of wine and stood up, holding her hand out to George who joined her and arm in arm they walked into the house leaving Trish and Mike to stare first after them then at each other.

He was first to speak. "Well," he drew the syllable out as if considering his words, "Here's a chance to try one of your favourite fantasies! You've talked about making love to another man. Do you want to do it for real?"

"What about you?" she responded, "How would you really feel if I ... if I fucked another man?" In her mind she felt attracted by the thought of fulfilling her fantasy, though butterflies were going frantic in her tummy. But how would she feel if he went with another woman? It cuts both ways, she realised.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she finally said after they had thrashed around the subject for several minutes. This was a sort of private joke with them. Whenever they had to make a mutual decision, they would encourage each other with that phrase. It started when they were kids – from the obvious early childish experiments – but it became part of their stock vocabulary. If they were in private, either of them could initiate acceptance of the decision by exposing their private parts to the other. In public, just an open hand, palm up, had the same meaning. They locked eyes for a minute then, still holding her gaze, Mike stood and pulled his shorts down to his knees.

Staring right back, Trish stood and dropped her own shorts then hobbled close and kissed him. "I'll always love only you, Mike. I won't make love to any other man – but sex is different! OK?"

He held his wife close and whispered, "I'll always love you too, Trish, but yes, sex is just sex."

They became conscious of his manhood stirring into life and realised where they were. "Mummy and Daddy might come back," said Trish. "We'd better get decent." They parted and pulled their shorts back up, both aware of what they had just decided. They were back in their chairs sipping wine when their parents rejoined them.

"Well," enquired George, "have you decided anything?"

Trish reached over and held Mike's hand for courage as she replied, "We'd like to try a weekend at Greengages." Mike squeezed her hand and confirmed the decision.

"Good," said her mother. "I thought you probably would. While we were in the house I phoned Tom and said you might be interested. He's invited you over tomorrow for the weekend. It's all strictly personal invitation and introduction at Greengages." She smiled, "Tom said we'll have a little welcoming party for you, if you come. There won't be too many there.