Chapter 11

We awoke the next morning at seven-thirty, the sharp blare of the alarm piercing the tranquil silence of the bedroom. The plan for the day was set ... meet Val at the Royce Hotel for brunch at nine, then Val and Leigh would go off together to prepare for Leigh’s mysterious adventure, while I joined my buddies for a round of golf. We would reconvene at the house in the late afternoon to prepare for our evening out. Leigh sprang out of bed like a shot, her body a blur of movement as she darted towards the bathroom, determined to beat me to the shower.

“Don’t get yourself off!” I yelled after her, my voice a mix of amusement and command as she slammed the bathroom door shut.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the coolness of the Master Bedroom tile sending a shiver through my body. Standing up, I stretched, my joints cracking and popping as I made my way to the bathroom. As I stood in front of the toilet, relieving my bladder, I glanced over at the shower, where Leigh’s sexy silhouette was visible through the frosted glass of the shower door. The sight of her running her hands over her statuesque body, the water cascading down her curves, was enough to make my cock harden, even as I peed. The thought of joining her in the shower crossed my mind, but I wanted to prolong her state of arousal for as long as I possibly could. Shaking the last drops of pee into the toilet, I turned to leave the bathroom.

“Don’t touch your pussy,” I reminded her, my voice firm as I stepped out into the hallway, “I don’t want you cumming!”

“You’re so mean!” she called out as I exited the bathroom.

Heading to the bedroom to get dressed, I pulled on a pair of khaki shorts, a collared golf shirt, and deck shoes. The Royce Hotel was an upscale establishment, and guests were expected to dress appropriately, though golf attire was certainly acceptable. I started a pot of coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen as I stepped outside to retrieve the morning paper from the front yard. The sun was already warm, the promise of a hot July day to come.

Once the coffee was ready, I poured myself a cup and sat down at the breakfast nook, the Sports Section of the paper spread out before me. I took a sip of the hot, bitter liquid, the caffeine already working its magic, chasing away the remnants of sleep. I leaned back in my chair, my eyes scanning the headlines, my mind already on the golf course, the feel of the club in my hands, the swing, the drive, the...

“Good morning!” Leigh’s cheerful voice cut through my thoughts as she stepped out of the hallway and into the kitchen, her presence commanding and elegant. She was impeccably dressed, as always, her outfit a study in casual chic. High-waisted white shorts, cuffed at the bottom and flaring slightly at the thighs, hugged her hips and accentuated her long, toned legs. Her white halter top, tied behind her neck, concealed her braless breasts with effortless elegance, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places, while accenting her erect nipples, hardened by her prolonged arousal. Her long black hair was swept into a tight French bun, not a strand out of place, and a light coat of makeup accentuated her stunning features, highlighting her high cheekbones, her full lips, her sparkling green eyes.

She had slipped on a pair of wedge sandals with a three-inch lift, the straps crisscrossing over her feet, securing the shoes in place while revealing her impeccable pedicure. As we left the house, she completed the look with gold hoop earrings, a wide-brimmed straw sun hat, and a pair of Gucci cat’s-eye sunglasses, her reflection in the mirror a vision of sophistication and style.

A half hour later, I pulled up to the valet stand at the Royce Hotel, the engine of my Mustang purring like a contented beast. The uniformed doorman, a man of middling years with a neatly trimmed mustache, stepped briskly forward, his eyes hidden behind polished sunglasses. He opened the passenger door with a flourish, extending his hand to assist Leigh as she emerged from the car.

Leigh’s entrance was nothing short of theatrical. First, her graceful, toned leg appeared, her tanned skin silky smooth and glistening slightly in the morning sun. She paused, her sandal clad foot on the ground, her body still mostly hidden within the confines of the car. The doorman’s eyes were drawn to her leg, his gaze lingering on the curve of her calf, the definition of her muscle, the perfect arch of her foot. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his hand still outstretched, waiting for hers.

With an effortless poise that was uniquely Leigh, she unfolded her striking stature from the car’s interior. She rose slowly, deliberately, her movements fluid and graceful, like a dancer performing a well-rehearsed routine. Inch by inch, she straightened, her body emerging from the car, her presence commanding and dominant. The doorman’s eyes followed her upward, his head tilting back to take in her full height, his sunglasses reflecting the morning sun, hiding his eyes, but not the faint lift of his brows, the slight parting of his lips, the barely perceptible intake of breath as he realized just how tall she was, how imposing her presence.

She stood at her full height, taller than most women, certainly taller than the doorman had expected. His hand, still holding the door, tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white as he took in the full extent of her stature, her presence. He murmured a polite greeting, his voice steady despite the surprise etched on his face, but his awe lingered in the way his eyes briefly widened before settling into a respectful smile, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, a smile that was tinged with a hint of nervousness, of deference.

I always enjoyed watching how intimidated men became in Leigh’s presence, how their demeanor shifted, how their eyes widened, how their voices took on a note of reverence, of respect. It was a power she wielded effortlessly, a power that was as much a part of her as her striking beauty, her confident demeanor, her commanding presence. And as I watched the doorman’s reaction, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride, of ownership, of satisfaction.

As soon as we stepped into the cool, sun-drenched lobby of the hotel, our eyes landed on Val. She stood out effortlessly, a vision of tailored elegance and self-assured poise. Her strapless white sundress, adorned with a delicate black floral print, hugged her curves with deliberate grace. The bodice of her address was closed with five oversized buttons starting at the narrowest point of her waist, the top one left flirtatiously undone ... offering a bold yet tasteful glimpse of cleavage. A wide black satin sash cinched her waist, pulling the look together with a sophisticated flair. The skirt flared gently around her legs, the hem swaying with each measured breath of the lobby’s air conditioning.

Topping her golden hair was a broad-brimmed black hat, the kind that whispered “Old Money” with every tilt. Her blond waves were tucked artfully beneath it, only a few sun-kissed strands escaping to catch the light.

The sharp, rhythmic click of Val’s black pumps echoed softly off the marble tile as she strode toward us, arms outstretched. Her presence turned a few heads ... though she seemed unaware, or simply above noticing.

“You look as beautiful as always,” she murmured as she embraced Leigh, pressing a kiss gently to her cheek.

Leigh beamed. “You look beautiful too. I love the dress!”

Val leaned back, keeping Leigh at arm’s length as she tilted her head and, with a mock-serious expression, asked in a low voice, “Did you put in your butt plug like I told you to?”

Leigh’s smile curled into something sly and wicked. “Yes,” she replied with a mischievous snicker. “But I had to be careful how I put it in so I didn’t cum.”

Val raised an elegant brow, clearly intrigued.

Leaning in slightly and lowering her voice, Leigh explained, “Christopher’s been torturing me with teasing since last evening. He’s forbidden me to have an orgasm. Just edge after edge. I’m so turned on I can barely stand still.”

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk, but before Val could speak, Leigh turned toward me with a playful glare, her voice full of mock accusation. “You are so evil.”

I held up both hands in an exaggerated gesture of innocence, feigning surprise. “Who, me?”

After giving the hostess my name, she offered a practiced smile and checked the reservation book with practiced efficiency. “Right this way,” she said, motioning us to follow. The soft murmur of conversation and the gentle clinking of cutlery filled the warmly lit brunch spot, mingling with the scent of fresh pastries and citrus zest.

We were guided past a wall of tall windows where sunlight streamed in, painting golden streaks across the floor. She led us to a cozy table near the back, draped in crisp white linen and set with polished silver and gleaming glasses. I stepped ahead and pulled out the chair to my right for Leigh, who slid in with a grateful smile. Then I turned to Val, helping her into the seat across from me. She lowered herself gracefully, smoothing the flare of her sundress as she sat, hat casting a subtle shadow over her face.

Before we could even settle in or open the menus, a young woman approached with an eager bounce in her step. She had a sunny demeanor and an equally radiant smile ... blond hair swept into a neat ponytail and a name tag that read Tiffany.

“Hi!” she greeted, her voice chipper and bright. “I’m Tiffany, and I’ll be taking care of you this morning. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“I really need a mimosa,” Leigh said with a dramatic sigh and a sparkle in her eye.

“Me too!” Val chimed in, her voice playful, clearly already in brunch mode.

“Coffee for me, thanks,” I added, smiling up at Tiffany.

She quickly jotted down our drink orders, then gave an apologetic laugh as she asked to check Leigh and Val’s IDs. Once satisfied, she gave a nod and chirped, “Be right back with those!” before disappearing into the bustle of the dining room.

Leigh leaned forward, her bright green eyes locked onto Val’s, her expression a mix of curiosity and anticipation. Her voice a low, serious murmur, the words rolling off her tongue like a challenge. “So what depravity do you have planned for me tonight?”

Val placed her hand on her chest, feigning incredulity, a smirk playing on her lips. “Who me?” she responded, her voice laced with amusement. “What makes you think I have something depraved planned?”

Before Leigh could press her further, Tiffany approached our table, her movements graceful and efficient as she placed our drinks in front of us. Leigh immediately picked up the champagne flute filled with Mimosa, the golden liquid shimmering in the light, and downed half of the contents in one swift gulp. The alcohol burned her throat, the bubbles tickling her nose, a futile attempt to dull the edge of her arousal.

“We’re just going to dinner,” Val continued, her voice smooth and nonchalant, ignoring Leigh’s previous line of questioning. “ ... and maybe dancing afterward. I have nothing nefarious planned.”

Seeing that Leigh was not going to let Val’s description of her plans for the night go, I decided to excuse myself. I set my napkin on the table, the fabric crumpling slightly as I pushed my chair back, the legs scraping against the tile floor and in an amused tone said, “I’ll let you work this out. I’m going to get something to eat.”

I grabbed a plate and made my way to the custom omelet bar, the aroma of sizzling eggs and melted cheese filled the air. The chef behind the station smiled at me, “What can I get for you?”

Looking at the array of options, I ordered, “Mushrooms, bacon, ham, cheddar cheese, and green peppers.”

The chef nodded, his hands moving with practiced ease as he began to prepare my omelet, the sizzle and pop of the ingredients, a symphony of culinary delight. “It’ll be about four to five minutes.”

While I waited, I let my gaze wander around the dining room, taking in the scene. I noticed that Val and Leigh had gotten up and were now standing side by side at the fruit bar, their heads bent close together as they filled their plates. Leigh’s tight shorts hugged her firm, rounded ass, the fabric stretching taut across her curves, leaving little to the imagination. Her long, shiny legs seemed to go on for miles, drawing the eyes of every man who passed by, their gazes lingering on her shapely form, their expressions a mix of appreciation and desire.

Thanking the chef, I took my plate with my finished omelet and headed back to our table. A few moments later, Leigh and Val joined me, their plates filled with an array of sliced fruits, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the white tablecloth. The little amount of fruit that was on their plate didn’t seem to correspond with the amount of time they spent at the salad bar.

Resigning herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to get Val to reveal her plans for the night, Leigh decided to change the subject. “Did Christopher tell you that I took the virginity of three brothers yesterday?”

“What are you talking about?” Val asked, her voice laced with incredulity, her eyes widening with surprise.

Leigh waited for Val’s shocked look before continuing, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “I fucked them right there on our boat while we were anchored in Party Cove.”

“How old were they?” Val inquired with fascination.

“Seventeen, fifteen, and thirteen,” Leigh explained, her voice matter-of-fact, a hint of pride in her tone.

“You fucked a thirteen year old boy?” Val asked in disbelief.

Her green eyes sparkling, Leigh countered with a devilish smile, “Well, he wasn’t a boy after I was done with him ... he became a man that afternoon.”

“How did this happen? Tell me everything,” Val insisted, leaning forward in her chair in anticipation of her story.

With great detail, Leigh began to recount the events of the previous afternoon, her voice a low, sultry murmur, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she relived the experience. She revealed how powerful it felt to fuck the brothers in front of everyone in the cove, the thrill of their young, eager bodies, the way their eyes widened with awe and desire as they took in her naked form. She was thrilled at the idea that these boys would remember her for the rest of their lives, a memory of their first sexual encounter etched forever in their brains.

By the look on her face, I could tell that Val was enthralled, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her cheeks flushed with arousal, her nipples hardening beneath her dress, a telltale sign of her excitement. Leigh ended her story with her topless encounter with our neighbor, Mr. Batiste, her eyes locked onto Val’s, gauging her reaction.