Below is a long excerpt from our first Kate Davenport book, Conspiracy in Marrakech. My husband and I love to write kinky books involving cuckolding, femdom and various fetishes. I do most of the writing, he is obviously the one with the male perspective. Hope you like it and if so I'll post more later.
The bar on the Southbank was packed with a crowd of young professionals that celebrated the end of another stressful week in the office. It was one of the hippest and coolest places in London, with a spectacular view of the river, Saint Paul’s cathedral and the skyscrapers behind it. A bit older than most of the people here Katherine Davenport and her husband Roger Winfield were seated on a sofa in a corner, from where they had a good view on both the crowd and the lights of the city. Katherine, or Kate as most of her friends and family called her, had just come back from Zimbabwe. She had been there on a mission that turned out to be more dangerous than expected, so both of them were happy that she made it back to London safely.
‘To a quiet month at home,’ Roger said as he raised his glass.
Kate smiled, knowing perfectly well that it was very unlikely that the secret services would leave her alone for such a long time. Roger knew it too and more importantly, he had made his peace with it. A successful attorney in the City himself, it wasn’t as if he was bored and lonely in times of her absence. They had been together for almost ten years and knew by now how to balance work and relationship.
Despite the dangers that came with it Kate loved her job. Her dad had always thought that life would bring her something special and he was right. Even as a little girl she had always looked for adventure and danger. She had a privileged childhood in Essex, with plenty of money and luxury at home, but all she wanted to do as a little girl was play with boys and climb in trees. No dolls or dresses for her, but judo and karate and sparring with boys that were bigger and older than she was. It was only later, when she reached puberty, that she discovered she had a feminine side too. For the first time in her life she had let her thick, black hair grow long and even started to wear dresses every now and then. This to the delight of her mother of course, who had always disapproved of her tomboy side and fought many battles with her when she was little. Although she had passed away a long time ago, Kate remembered her clearly. Beautiful and strict, never a hair out of place and always dressed up as if she were expecting the Queen. It must have been her aristocratic, Lebanese blood, Kate often thought, or perhaps she was shaped by the events back in 1974, when she was sent to England by her parents, who knew that their country would be in turmoil soon. As the daughter of a well-known Christian aristocrat she had adapted to the upper class without a problem and by the time the civil war was over she was married with children and only went back to Lebanon to visit her family.
Roger smiled at her and said something, but the crowd around them was cheering and some men were slapping a young guy in a suit on the shoulder. Probably a promotion, she thought. Roger came closer and said: ‘I think you have an admirer. Over there, at the bar.’
‘Silly man,’ she said, but she turned her head and saw a group of five young guys who were being cocky. One of them, a handsome, black guy did indeed throw her some looks. Well, didn’t he see that she was here with her husband? And how old was he anyway? Twenty-three? Still a kid, but not feeling like one, because now he even smiled at her. She picked up her drink and smiled back, but only briefly and not too obvious. Roger in the meantime seemed quite entertained by it all. Under the table she gave him a kick with her high heeled pump. Idiot, that meant, are we really in the mood for this? She had a jet lag and was still mentally recovering from the adventure in Zimbabwe. A flirt with a young guy was not what she needed right now. Or was it? She looked over at the guy again. One of his friends was talking to him now, but he clearly wasn’t paying attention. While pretending to listen he looked at her and smiled again. What a cheeky young man, she thought, and sharply dressed too in his dark blue suit. Good body, good posture and a pleasant smile.
‘What do you think?’ her husband asked.
‘I think you’re a pervert, Roger Winfield.’
But she smiled and kissed him on the lips and again looked over at the black guy at the bar, who was still pretending to listen to his friend, but who had also seen the kiss and now seemed confused. Poor guy, what had he thought? That Roger was a colleague or just a friend? Perhaps she should show him her wedding ring? No, that might scare him off and she realized that she did feel like playing a bit more. She turned to Roger and said: ‘I think I’ll go get us another drink. What would you like? A glass of wine?’
Roger nodded with a goofy smile on his face. She got up and walked over to the bar, her hips swaying gently and her dark hair falling beautifully on her shoulders. Although she was a bit older than most women in the bar, she was easily the most striking. The exotic looks that she had inherited from her mother, combined with the sexy dress and heels she was wearing tonight, made people look up and check her out. When she was younger the attention made her shy, but she had learned to embrace her femininity a long time ago and now felt comfortable with people noticing her presence. Comfortable as in not worrying about what others thought of her. Now, for instance, as she walked to the bar, she felt the eyes of at least five people on her, but she couldn’t care less. The only reason she noticed was because it was part of her job, because she was trained to pay attention to her surroundings. Tonight though there was no danger, just a woman to her left who was shooting daggers at her and four men who were checking out her curves, one of them the guy who had smiled at her. She ordered two glasses of red wine and while the barman prepared them, she leaned on the bar and turned toward the black guy, who was standing just a few feet away from her. The guy didn’t waste much time and gave her his best smile. Apparently no longer confused about the kiss, she thought. The fact that she had come over to where he was standing had given him his confidence back. Well, let’s see what else he had. She raised her eyebrows, showing him that he had smiled enough and that it was time for him to step it up. He turned his head, quickly looking over at Roger, who was distracted by his phone, or more likely, was pretending to be distracted. Then he made his move and asked her if it was possible that he had seen her here before. She resisted making fun of this terrible pick-up line and said: ‘I doubt it.’
To make things a bit easier for him she asked him if he was American or Canadian.
‘American,’ he said. ‘From Washington D.C.’
Kate, who had been to the American capital on several occasions, mentioned some bars and restaurants that she remembered. The boy was clearly nervous underneath his cocky attitude, but started to relax now that they were talking about his hometown. Kate, in the meantime, made eye contact with Roger. No longer busy with his phone, he took a very keen interest in their conversation, even though he couldn’t hear a word of it. It prompted Kate to grab the bull by the horns. While the boy was telling her that he and his family used to go to one of the restaurants that she had mentioned, she interrupted him and asked him why he had shown such an interest in her. His reaction was quite amusing. He coughed and stammered some words, without making any sense. But then he recollected himself and she thought, good for you, there is the man inside you stepping forward. Calmer now, he looked at her and asked if she was always this direct. She nodded and then surprised him again by asking if he wanted to join her and her husband at their table. Again he put his fist to his mouth and coughed, this decent young man from the United States.
‘Your husband?’
‘Don’t worry about him. He is okay with it.’
‘What do I tell my friends?’
‘I’m sure you can think of something.’
With that she picked up the two glasses of wine from the bar and walked back to Roger.
‘He is going to join us.’
Roger, knowing the drill, swapped seats and left the sofa for the chair on the other side of the table. Kate sat down on the sofa and watched the American come over. She patted her hand on the empty place next to her, basically telling him where to sit. Clearly still nervous and uncomfortable he took a seat and put his beer on the table. Roger extended his hand and introduced himself.
‘Roger. Kate’s husband.’
‘Will. From Washington D.C.’
‘Nice to meet you, Will,’ Roger said in a most pleasant tone of voice.
Kate nodded at his friends and asked him what he had told them.
‘That I had met the two of you before at a birthday party.’
‘At a birthday party even. You’re a creative chap, Will.’
Will laughed, but was obviously not at ease yet with the whole situation. It crossed Kate’s mind that he must be quite attracted to her to have gone so far out of his comfort zone to have joined her and her husband in this intimate corner of the bar.
‘Look Will,’ she said, ‘we understand that you think this is all a bit strange, but really, let’s just relax and chat a bit, okay?’
She smiled at him and Roger too showed the boy that there was nothing to worry about. Ever the conversationalist he asked: ‘So D.C.? How are things there at the moment?’
And off the boy went, happy to be talking about his hometown again and this time Kate let him. Obviously it helped him relax and besides, Roger seemed genuinely interested. Her own thoughts though started to drift. First she noticed that dear Roger was more and more looking his age. He had turned forty a while ago, but his demanding job and short nights finally seemed to catch up on him. The wrinkles on his friendly face, the undeniable loss of hair, it was happening and it was normal, but still she felt for him. Then there was the American, young, quite innocent still, but physically in his prime. The first time she had been to his city, she mused, he was still a child. It must have been fifteen years ago, just after university. First she had completed her Spanish studies, a year later International Relations. That summer her dad had surprised her with a ticket to the U.S. and enough money for a long road trip. Having passed on his solitary genes to her, he hadn’t even asked her if she wanted to bring a friend. What he did suggest was that she visit his good friend Bob Delaney, a member of Congress for the Democratic Party. She stayed with him in D.C. for about a week. It wasn’t the first time that they’d met, as Bob Delaney had frequently visited Essex in her childhood. However, it was the first time that they had talked like adults. Politics, ambitions, travel, life, they discussed it all. At the end of the week though she felt that she had spent enough time in his home. She bought a secondhand car and hit the road, driving south to Atlanta and New Orleans. It was after a great weekend in the Big Easy that she decided she wanted something different from her original plan. Las Vegas, Death Valley and California no longer appealed to her, so what she did instead was drive down to Mexico. When she called her parents a week later from Monterrey, her mother almost got a heart attack. Her dad said that he wasn’t surprised at all, but when she told him that she planned to drive all the way to South America even he fell silent. She didn’t make it to South America though, not that time. In Honduras her car got stolen in a violent robbery that put her in the hospital. Two guys on the side of the road had tricked her into stopping. One pulled a knife, the other picked up a baseball bat from behind a tree. Kate, who had been out of the car already, focused on the guy with the knife first. She had already had a black belt in judo and karate by then and managed to grab the guy’s arm and dislocate his shoulder. She was too late for the other one though and the next thing she remembered was waking up with a splitting headache in a hospital in San Pedro Sula. Her car and money were gone and so was her desire to go further south. Her dad wired her money and when she was ready to leave the hospital she took a flight back to Washington D.C., where she spent another week talking to Bob Delaney. This time their conversations were of a different kind. Bob told her that she was not only bright, with a good academic basis too now, but that she also had something extra, something special that was much appreciated in certain government agencies. He was a bit vague at first, but yes, she was bright indeed and quickly understood that he was talking about the CIA. Things moved fast then. Bob made some calls, Kate met some people and before she knew it she was enrolled in a special program. She had loved it from the start. The military training, the sports, but also the psychology and the strategical way of thinking. Two years later, at the age of twenty-five, she was out on the street as an agent. She had worked for the CIA for more than five years, when she fell in love with Roger and realized that she wanted to move back home and do things differently. She left the CIA and went to work as an independent consultant. Before long both the CIA and MI6 hired her services on a regular basis, along with agencies from other countries. Bob Delaney still having her back and talking to people high up in both agencies, not because he liked her, but because he truly believed in her. Why? Well, while she was quite modest about her own skills, people in both agencies had repeatedly told her that she had what it took: intelligence and a good understanding of the balances of power. She was courageous too, they said. Prepared to take risks where others would back off.
‘Add to that your looks and language skills,’ Bob Delaney had said, ‘and we’ve got ourselves the perfect spy.’
Looking at the American boy now she realized that she missed Bob. It had been ages since she had seen him. He was officially retired now, but still pulled at strings whenever it was necessary. Perhaps she could take her dad, who was retired too, for a few days to the U.S. soon. Well, she thought as she took a sip of her wine, that would be for later. Right now she was here in a bar with Roger and the young American, who seemed to feel more relaxed and was still chatting away with her husband. Perhaps it was time to reel him in? She looked at Roger and gave him a barely visible nod. Almost right away Roger excused himself and took his phone out of the pocket of his blazer. He got up and pressed it to his ear, heading for the exit of the bar. A lame excuse, Kate knew, but necessary to not spook the American too much. Now that she was alone with Will she turned her body more towards him and touched his muscular upper arm.
‘Say Will, are you single or do you have a girlfriend back in America?’
Will blushed and said that he and his ex split up two months ago. Kate made the appropriate comments, playing the part of the older and caring friend, but she also crossed her long legs so that her nylons and patent leather court shoes were on full display for him. Most men were suckers for stockings and heels and she knew she had the legs to go with them. Sure enough Will let his eyes wander right away. He did it quickly, in the hope that she wouldn’t notice, but of course she did. Women almost always did. Very casually she shifted in her seat and got even closer to him. Her shoe was touching his trousers now and she moved her right hand gently up and down over her knee, her long, red nails on the sheer, black nylon. Again he looked, with the beginning of excitement in his eyes, but also still not sure what was going on.
‘Tell me something, Will,’ she began. ‘When you first saw us sitting here, what did you think? That we were a couple or that we were just friends or colleagues?’
‘I thought you were colleagues because most of the people here are.’
‘What else did you think?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why did you look over? Not once or twice, but at least three or four times.’
‘I thought you were beautiful,’ he admitted.
‘And available?’
‘Yes.’
‘You wanted to flirt?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry. Like I said, I didn’t know you were married.’
‘Don’t be sorry. We’re here talking to each other because I like your attention. And so does Roger.’
‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘I think you do,’ Kate said and when the boy gave her a blank look, she added: ‘We’re one of those couples, Will. Kinky people who sometimes like to have fun.’
‘Okay,’ he said and then repeated that three more times.
God, Kate thought, he really wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. He was a nice guy though and goodlooking too, with his white teeth and soulful eyes, so yes, she was willing to take things a bit further.
‘What I mean is that you can flirt with me. I like it.’
‘And Roger?’
‘He likes it too, in his own way. But forget about him for now. Focus on me and let’s see if we can make it a fun evening. How does that sound?’
Reeling him in and wrapping him around her finger. Half an hour later, with Roger still gone, they were engaged in an intimate talk about relationships and love. It turned out that, despite his age and initial shyness, the American was quite eloquent. Kate found that she enjoyed talking to him, just like she enjoyed the proximity of his body and the seductive eye contact they frequently made now. It was clearly a matter of time before they would kiss. She crossed her legs the other way, right over left this time, and saw Will’s eyes darting down again, drinking it all in. She laughed quietly and he asked her what was so funny.
‘You seem to be taking a keen interest in my legs, young Will.’
She sat back, folding her arms across the chest and oozing a confidence that once again unbalanced the American. He stared at her briefly, but then laughed and nodded his head.
‘Wow,’ he said, ‘you’re quite something. And about your legs, they’re spectacular.’
‘Well, thank you, Will. What do you like about them?’
Inviting him to take a good look, which was exactly what he did.
‘I love your calves,’ he said. ‘When you were walking away from the bar I noticed them first and wow, I could hardly believe it.’
‘So you have been peeking at my legs quite a lot, haven’t you?’
He nodded, but playing along with her now, not intimidated anymore. Then he reached out and put a hand on her knee. She didn’t move or say anything, just looked at him. Slowly he started to caress her leg, down over her shin, up to her knee again and squeezing the beginning of her full, strong thigh. He moved forward and she did too and then they were kissing, tentative at first, but soon she could feel how the boy started to relax into it. As for Kate, she always loved this part. That first kiss with a stranger, knowing that she had her husband’s permission. Exciting, bizarre and terribly kinky, it was all just up her street. And kissing with Will, it had to be said, didn’t disappoint her at all. In contrary, the longer they kissed the more she liked it. Both had full and sensitive lips and now that the awkward phase was over the boy was passionate and intense. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. His upper body felt strong. She could tell that he worked out regularly. Meanwhile he continued to caress her legs, going up and down over her sheer nylons.
When Roger came back the boy didn’t even notice. Kate did feel Roger’s proximity and opened her eyes briefly, just long enough to make eye contact with him and confirm that he was all right and was enjoying this too. The look on his face was the look she had expected. Incredibly excited and hurt at the same time. The look had scared her all those years ago, when she had seen it for the first time, but that was then. Now she knew it was part of who he was and more importantly, she knew that this was what he truly enjoyed, even though it kind of hurt him too. In the meantime Will was on the move with his hands. One was in her hair, while the other was on its way to her breasts. Slow down now, she thought, while she gently redirected him to her side. There was plenty of time for that later if all parties wanted it. But yes, where she hadn’t been in the mood for this earlier on, she could now easily imagine taking the American home and into their bedroom.
Her job as a secret agent had a major influence on the kinky element of their marriage. At least one could say that it brought out the kink, because if it hadn’t been for that assignment in Damascus, who knows, perhaps their relationship might never have moved out of vanilla territory. In Syria though things were turned pretty much upside down when she was assigned to work with a French agent, who was based in the Middle East and to whom she had felt terribly attracted. Freshly engaged to Roger she had really tried to behave, but a voice in her head kept saying that that was just not who she was. Engaged, about to be married and faithful, how uncomfortable she had always felt with those words! She was Kate, her inner voice reminded her, free, rebellious Kate who had always taken pleasure whenever she felt like it. Aware that she was being selfish though and possibly immature, she had continued to resist the advances of the French agent. However, at the end of the week they had drinks in a bar and then it happened. No love, no intimate talks, just passionate sex. Two bodies devouring each other, going at it for hours and hours. The next morning she felt entirely satisfied and terribly guilty at the same time. She had cheated on Roger and she was going to have to tell him. What also worried her was something that she finally had to face, something that would have become problematic for their relationship anyway. Sex with Roger was sweet and loving, but very much lacking in passion too. She didn’t want to admit it at first, but just remembering the Frenchman’s big, strong hands on her hips and his thick cock inside her set her on fire in a way that Roger never had. She wouldn’t tell him that of course, but it was a problem that she needed to take into consideration. For some people mediocre sex might be a price they gladly paid in exchange for a loving partner, but that morning in the desert Kate knew that she wasn’t one of them. She needed more, much more. At that moment she was convinced that the engagement would be over and that it was probably for the best too.
Back in London she and Roger had the conversation. Understandably he felt hurt and betrayed. They broke off the engagement and that was that, she thought. A week later however she found him on her doorstep with flowers. Flowers? Wasn’t she the one who needed to apologize to him? Well, it turned out that he hadn’t come to apologize, but to be more honest about what he felt. It was then that he told her that her affair turned him on immensely. At first she didn’t believe him, thinking that he was just desperate to get her back, but they talked the whole night and she learned a lot about this strange kink of men getting pleasure out of being cuckolded. So apparently Roger was one of them. She asked him how long he had had this desire and he admitted that it stemmed from a time long before they met. That was good, she thought, because it meant that it was not directly linked to her affair.
After this emotional and revealing night they continued their relationship, but now with the promise that they would communicate better and be more open with each other. In the months that followed they also took their newly found knowledge to bed with them. During lovemaking she would tell him about the Frenchman and how well he had fucked her. It drove Roger wild and even though he never matched the Frenchman, or some of the other lovers she had, Kate got happier and happier about their sex life. They started to experiment in other ways too. She would tie him up and occasionally even spank him like a little boy. It was like opening the infamous Pandora’s Box, both of them discovering more and more kinky games. At some point they switched roles too, him dominating her, but that just made them laugh, because somehow it felt ridiculous. It was clear for them then that it only worked when she was dominant and he was submissive.
In the years that followed they got married and bought a beautiful house near Holland Park. Roger was making a fortune and Kate had always had money. They seemed a rich, yet ordinary couple and in many ways that’s exactly what they were. They had their group of friends and their careers, Roger working in the City, Kate at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which was a smokescreen of course and a perfect alibi for her secret missions. They never told anyone close to them about the kinky side of their marriage, but together they slipped in and out of that dark and delightful world whenever they felt like it. In the basement of their house they had created two playrooms full of kinky instruments, Kate’s dungeon where Roger served her in ways that were incomprehensible to the vanilla world outside. They also played when Kate was traveling. That usually involved a chastity belt for Roger and a lover for Kate. One of them was the Frenchman with whom it had all started. She had never worked with him again, but whenever she was in the Middle East she called him up and sometimes they would spend the night. Sex with him remained spectacularly good, the difference with the first time being that now she could tell Roger beforehand. No more guilt, just pleasure and a twisted complicity with her husband.
And now they were here with young Will from America, who was kissing her and trying to feel her up while her husband was watching. They were all excited now. She could see it in their eyes and feel it in her body. Her panties were getting wet and her nipples were hard. Perhaps they could skip the dancing and the drinks and take the boy home right away. She broke off the kiss and suggested as much to both men, who of course agreed. Fifteen minutes later they were in a taxi driving across London. Roger in the front seat and she and Will in the backseat, where they continued their kissing. Here, in the dark, she allowed Will’s hand to go further up her legs. She had positioned herself in such a way that Roger could see a bit of the action too. He was talking to the driver about cricket, facing the man, but glancing at them in the backseat from the corner of his eye. She spread her legs a bit wider, so that Will could work his way up and Roger wouldn’t have to miss a thing. Will’s hand went up indeed, over her stockings and to the bare skin above it. She lifted up her dress and pushed her hips forward. While Will slipped a finger underneath the lace panties and began to caress her wet pussy, she looked her husband straight in the eye. No more cricket talk for him. He was extremely excited, she could tell and so was she. His gaze went down to between her legs and stayed there, watching intently how his wife was getting fingered by a stranger. Oh, and how well Will was touching her clit! Gently and with just the right rhythm. She moaned softly and closed her eyes. She threw her head back and focused on the American’s fingers that were about to bring her to a climax. It was then that her work phone rang. Both Roger and she recognized the ringtone immediately and knew that most likely young Will was about to be sent on his way. She took the phone out of her bag, still breathing hard, but trying to recollect herself as she sat up. As she had suspected it was her contact at MI6, who asked her if she had seen the news. A terrorist attack in Marrakech, many casualties, mostly American and British. It happened during the day, her contact said, and at first it had been total mayhem. Now a clearer picture emerged and to make a long story short, a car would swing by her house and take her to Gatwick Airport from where she would fly to Marrakech.
In case you're interested in the whole book: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07J576G5Y
The bar on the Southbank was packed with a crowd of young professionals that celebrated the end of another stressful week in the office. It was one of the hippest and coolest places in London, with a spectacular view of the river, Saint Paul’s cathedral and the skyscrapers behind it. A bit older than most of the people here Katherine Davenport and her husband Roger Winfield were seated on a sofa in a corner, from where they had a good view on both the crowd and the lights of the city. Katherine, or Kate as most of her friends and family called her, had just come back from Zimbabwe. She had been there on a mission that turned out to be more dangerous than expected, so both of them were happy that she made it back to London safely.
‘To a quiet month at home,’ Roger said as he raised his glass.
Kate smiled, knowing perfectly well that it was very unlikely that the secret services would leave her alone for such a long time. Roger knew it too and more importantly, he had made his peace with it. A successful attorney in the City himself, it wasn’t as if he was bored and lonely in times of her absence. They had been together for almost ten years and knew by now how to balance work and relationship.
Despite the dangers that came with it Kate loved her job. Her dad had always thought that life would bring her something special and he was right. Even as a little girl she had always looked for adventure and danger. She had a privileged childhood in Essex, with plenty of money and luxury at home, but all she wanted to do as a little girl was play with boys and climb in trees. No dolls or dresses for her, but judo and karate and sparring with boys that were bigger and older than she was. It was only later, when she reached puberty, that she discovered she had a feminine side too. For the first time in her life she had let her thick, black hair grow long and even started to wear dresses every now and then. This to the delight of her mother of course, who had always disapproved of her tomboy side and fought many battles with her when she was little. Although she had passed away a long time ago, Kate remembered her clearly. Beautiful and strict, never a hair out of place and always dressed up as if she were expecting the Queen. It must have been her aristocratic, Lebanese blood, Kate often thought, or perhaps she was shaped by the events back in 1974, when she was sent to England by her parents, who knew that their country would be in turmoil soon. As the daughter of a well-known Christian aristocrat she had adapted to the upper class without a problem and by the time the civil war was over she was married with children and only went back to Lebanon to visit her family.
Roger smiled at her and said something, but the crowd around them was cheering and some men were slapping a young guy in a suit on the shoulder. Probably a promotion, she thought. Roger came closer and said: ‘I think you have an admirer. Over there, at the bar.’
‘Silly man,’ she said, but she turned her head and saw a group of five young guys who were being cocky. One of them, a handsome, black guy did indeed throw her some looks. Well, didn’t he see that she was here with her husband? And how old was he anyway? Twenty-three? Still a kid, but not feeling like one, because now he even smiled at her. She picked up her drink and smiled back, but only briefly and not too obvious. Roger in the meantime seemed quite entertained by it all. Under the table she gave him a kick with her high heeled pump. Idiot, that meant, are we really in the mood for this? She had a jet lag and was still mentally recovering from the adventure in Zimbabwe. A flirt with a young guy was not what she needed right now. Or was it? She looked over at the guy again. One of his friends was talking to him now, but he clearly wasn’t paying attention. While pretending to listen he looked at her and smiled again. What a cheeky young man, she thought, and sharply dressed too in his dark blue suit. Good body, good posture and a pleasant smile.
‘What do you think?’ her husband asked.
‘I think you’re a pervert, Roger Winfield.’
But she smiled and kissed him on the lips and again looked over at the black guy at the bar, who was still pretending to listen to his friend, but who had also seen the kiss and now seemed confused. Poor guy, what had he thought? That Roger was a colleague or just a friend? Perhaps she should show him her wedding ring? No, that might scare him off and she realized that she did feel like playing a bit more. She turned to Roger and said: ‘I think I’ll go get us another drink. What would you like? A glass of wine?’
Roger nodded with a goofy smile on his face. She got up and walked over to the bar, her hips swaying gently and her dark hair falling beautifully on her shoulders. Although she was a bit older than most women in the bar, she was easily the most striking. The exotic looks that she had inherited from her mother, combined with the sexy dress and heels she was wearing tonight, made people look up and check her out. When she was younger the attention made her shy, but she had learned to embrace her femininity a long time ago and now felt comfortable with people noticing her presence. Comfortable as in not worrying about what others thought of her. Now, for instance, as she walked to the bar, she felt the eyes of at least five people on her, but she couldn’t care less. The only reason she noticed was because it was part of her job, because she was trained to pay attention to her surroundings. Tonight though there was no danger, just a woman to her left who was shooting daggers at her and four men who were checking out her curves, one of them the guy who had smiled at her. She ordered two glasses of red wine and while the barman prepared them, she leaned on the bar and turned toward the black guy, who was standing just a few feet away from her. The guy didn’t waste much time and gave her his best smile. Apparently no longer confused about the kiss, she thought. The fact that she had come over to where he was standing had given him his confidence back. Well, let’s see what else he had. She raised her eyebrows, showing him that he had smiled enough and that it was time for him to step it up. He turned his head, quickly looking over at Roger, who was distracted by his phone, or more likely, was pretending to be distracted. Then he made his move and asked her if it was possible that he had seen her here before. She resisted making fun of this terrible pick-up line and said: ‘I doubt it.’
To make things a bit easier for him she asked him if he was American or Canadian.
‘American,’ he said. ‘From Washington D.C.’
Kate, who had been to the American capital on several occasions, mentioned some bars and restaurants that she remembered. The boy was clearly nervous underneath his cocky attitude, but started to relax now that they were talking about his hometown. Kate, in the meantime, made eye contact with Roger. No longer busy with his phone, he took a very keen interest in their conversation, even though he couldn’t hear a word of it. It prompted Kate to grab the bull by the horns. While the boy was telling her that he and his family used to go to one of the restaurants that she had mentioned, she interrupted him and asked him why he had shown such an interest in her. His reaction was quite amusing. He coughed and stammered some words, without making any sense. But then he recollected himself and she thought, good for you, there is the man inside you stepping forward. Calmer now, he looked at her and asked if she was always this direct. She nodded and then surprised him again by asking if he wanted to join her and her husband at their table. Again he put his fist to his mouth and coughed, this decent young man from the United States.
‘Your husband?’
‘Don’t worry about him. He is okay with it.’
‘What do I tell my friends?’
‘I’m sure you can think of something.’
With that she picked up the two glasses of wine from the bar and walked back to Roger.
‘He is going to join us.’
Roger, knowing the drill, swapped seats and left the sofa for the chair on the other side of the table. Kate sat down on the sofa and watched the American come over. She patted her hand on the empty place next to her, basically telling him where to sit. Clearly still nervous and uncomfortable he took a seat and put his beer on the table. Roger extended his hand and introduced himself.
‘Roger. Kate’s husband.’
‘Will. From Washington D.C.’
‘Nice to meet you, Will,’ Roger said in a most pleasant tone of voice.
Kate nodded at his friends and asked him what he had told them.
‘That I had met the two of you before at a birthday party.’
‘At a birthday party even. You’re a creative chap, Will.’
Will laughed, but was obviously not at ease yet with the whole situation. It crossed Kate’s mind that he must be quite attracted to her to have gone so far out of his comfort zone to have joined her and her husband in this intimate corner of the bar.
‘Look Will,’ she said, ‘we understand that you think this is all a bit strange, but really, let’s just relax and chat a bit, okay?’
She smiled at him and Roger too showed the boy that there was nothing to worry about. Ever the conversationalist he asked: ‘So D.C.? How are things there at the moment?’
And off the boy went, happy to be talking about his hometown again and this time Kate let him. Obviously it helped him relax and besides, Roger seemed genuinely interested. Her own thoughts though started to drift. First she noticed that dear Roger was more and more looking his age. He had turned forty a while ago, but his demanding job and short nights finally seemed to catch up on him. The wrinkles on his friendly face, the undeniable loss of hair, it was happening and it was normal, but still she felt for him. Then there was the American, young, quite innocent still, but physically in his prime. The first time she had been to his city, she mused, he was still a child. It must have been fifteen years ago, just after university. First she had completed her Spanish studies, a year later International Relations. That summer her dad had surprised her with a ticket to the U.S. and enough money for a long road trip. Having passed on his solitary genes to her, he hadn’t even asked her if she wanted to bring a friend. What he did suggest was that she visit his good friend Bob Delaney, a member of Congress for the Democratic Party. She stayed with him in D.C. for about a week. It wasn’t the first time that they’d met, as Bob Delaney had frequently visited Essex in her childhood. However, it was the first time that they had talked like adults. Politics, ambitions, travel, life, they discussed it all. At the end of the week though she felt that she had spent enough time in his home. She bought a secondhand car and hit the road, driving south to Atlanta and New Orleans. It was after a great weekend in the Big Easy that she decided she wanted something different from her original plan. Las Vegas, Death Valley and California no longer appealed to her, so what she did instead was drive down to Mexico. When she called her parents a week later from Monterrey, her mother almost got a heart attack. Her dad said that he wasn’t surprised at all, but when she told him that she planned to drive all the way to South America even he fell silent. She didn’t make it to South America though, not that time. In Honduras her car got stolen in a violent robbery that put her in the hospital. Two guys on the side of the road had tricked her into stopping. One pulled a knife, the other picked up a baseball bat from behind a tree. Kate, who had been out of the car already, focused on the guy with the knife first. She had already had a black belt in judo and karate by then and managed to grab the guy’s arm and dislocate his shoulder. She was too late for the other one though and the next thing she remembered was waking up with a splitting headache in a hospital in San Pedro Sula. Her car and money were gone and so was her desire to go further south. Her dad wired her money and when she was ready to leave the hospital she took a flight back to Washington D.C., where she spent another week talking to Bob Delaney. This time their conversations were of a different kind. Bob told her that she was not only bright, with a good academic basis too now, but that she also had something extra, something special that was much appreciated in certain government agencies. He was a bit vague at first, but yes, she was bright indeed and quickly understood that he was talking about the CIA. Things moved fast then. Bob made some calls, Kate met some people and before she knew it she was enrolled in a special program. She had loved it from the start. The military training, the sports, but also the psychology and the strategical way of thinking. Two years later, at the age of twenty-five, she was out on the street as an agent. She had worked for the CIA for more than five years, when she fell in love with Roger and realized that she wanted to move back home and do things differently. She left the CIA and went to work as an independent consultant. Before long both the CIA and MI6 hired her services on a regular basis, along with agencies from other countries. Bob Delaney still having her back and talking to people high up in both agencies, not because he liked her, but because he truly believed in her. Why? Well, while she was quite modest about her own skills, people in both agencies had repeatedly told her that she had what it took: intelligence and a good understanding of the balances of power. She was courageous too, they said. Prepared to take risks where others would back off.
‘Add to that your looks and language skills,’ Bob Delaney had said, ‘and we’ve got ourselves the perfect spy.’
Looking at the American boy now she realized that she missed Bob. It had been ages since she had seen him. He was officially retired now, but still pulled at strings whenever it was necessary. Perhaps she could take her dad, who was retired too, for a few days to the U.S. soon. Well, she thought as she took a sip of her wine, that would be for later. Right now she was here in a bar with Roger and the young American, who seemed to feel more relaxed and was still chatting away with her husband. Perhaps it was time to reel him in? She looked at Roger and gave him a barely visible nod. Almost right away Roger excused himself and took his phone out of the pocket of his blazer. He got up and pressed it to his ear, heading for the exit of the bar. A lame excuse, Kate knew, but necessary to not spook the American too much. Now that she was alone with Will she turned her body more towards him and touched his muscular upper arm.
‘Say Will, are you single or do you have a girlfriend back in America?’
Will blushed and said that he and his ex split up two months ago. Kate made the appropriate comments, playing the part of the older and caring friend, but she also crossed her long legs so that her nylons and patent leather court shoes were on full display for him. Most men were suckers for stockings and heels and she knew she had the legs to go with them. Sure enough Will let his eyes wander right away. He did it quickly, in the hope that she wouldn’t notice, but of course she did. Women almost always did. Very casually she shifted in her seat and got even closer to him. Her shoe was touching his trousers now and she moved her right hand gently up and down over her knee, her long, red nails on the sheer, black nylon. Again he looked, with the beginning of excitement in his eyes, but also still not sure what was going on.
‘Tell me something, Will,’ she began. ‘When you first saw us sitting here, what did you think? That we were a couple or that we were just friends or colleagues?’
‘I thought you were colleagues because most of the people here are.’
‘What else did you think?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why did you look over? Not once or twice, but at least three or four times.’
‘I thought you were beautiful,’ he admitted.
‘And available?’
‘Yes.’
‘You wanted to flirt?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry. Like I said, I didn’t know you were married.’
‘Don’t be sorry. We’re here talking to each other because I like your attention. And so does Roger.’
‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘I think you do,’ Kate said and when the boy gave her a blank look, she added: ‘We’re one of those couples, Will. Kinky people who sometimes like to have fun.’
‘Okay,’ he said and then repeated that three more times.
God, Kate thought, he really wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. He was a nice guy though and goodlooking too, with his white teeth and soulful eyes, so yes, she was willing to take things a bit further.
‘What I mean is that you can flirt with me. I like it.’
‘And Roger?’
‘He likes it too, in his own way. But forget about him for now. Focus on me and let’s see if we can make it a fun evening. How does that sound?’
Reeling him in and wrapping him around her finger. Half an hour later, with Roger still gone, they were engaged in an intimate talk about relationships and love. It turned out that, despite his age and initial shyness, the American was quite eloquent. Kate found that she enjoyed talking to him, just like she enjoyed the proximity of his body and the seductive eye contact they frequently made now. It was clearly a matter of time before they would kiss. She crossed her legs the other way, right over left this time, and saw Will’s eyes darting down again, drinking it all in. She laughed quietly and he asked her what was so funny.
‘You seem to be taking a keen interest in my legs, young Will.’
She sat back, folding her arms across the chest and oozing a confidence that once again unbalanced the American. He stared at her briefly, but then laughed and nodded his head.
‘Wow,’ he said, ‘you’re quite something. And about your legs, they’re spectacular.’
‘Well, thank you, Will. What do you like about them?’
Inviting him to take a good look, which was exactly what he did.
‘I love your calves,’ he said. ‘When you were walking away from the bar I noticed them first and wow, I could hardly believe it.’
‘So you have been peeking at my legs quite a lot, haven’t you?’
He nodded, but playing along with her now, not intimidated anymore. Then he reached out and put a hand on her knee. She didn’t move or say anything, just looked at him. Slowly he started to caress her leg, down over her shin, up to her knee again and squeezing the beginning of her full, strong thigh. He moved forward and she did too and then they were kissing, tentative at first, but soon she could feel how the boy started to relax into it. As for Kate, she always loved this part. That first kiss with a stranger, knowing that she had her husband’s permission. Exciting, bizarre and terribly kinky, it was all just up her street. And kissing with Will, it had to be said, didn’t disappoint her at all. In contrary, the longer they kissed the more she liked it. Both had full and sensitive lips and now that the awkward phase was over the boy was passionate and intense. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. His upper body felt strong. She could tell that he worked out regularly. Meanwhile he continued to caress her legs, going up and down over her sheer nylons.
When Roger came back the boy didn’t even notice. Kate did feel Roger’s proximity and opened her eyes briefly, just long enough to make eye contact with him and confirm that he was all right and was enjoying this too. The look on his face was the look she had expected. Incredibly excited and hurt at the same time. The look had scared her all those years ago, when she had seen it for the first time, but that was then. Now she knew it was part of who he was and more importantly, she knew that this was what he truly enjoyed, even though it kind of hurt him too. In the meantime Will was on the move with his hands. One was in her hair, while the other was on its way to her breasts. Slow down now, she thought, while she gently redirected him to her side. There was plenty of time for that later if all parties wanted it. But yes, where she hadn’t been in the mood for this earlier on, she could now easily imagine taking the American home and into their bedroom.
Her job as a secret agent had a major influence on the kinky element of their marriage. At least one could say that it brought out the kink, because if it hadn’t been for that assignment in Damascus, who knows, perhaps their relationship might never have moved out of vanilla territory. In Syria though things were turned pretty much upside down when she was assigned to work with a French agent, who was based in the Middle East and to whom she had felt terribly attracted. Freshly engaged to Roger she had really tried to behave, but a voice in her head kept saying that that was just not who she was. Engaged, about to be married and faithful, how uncomfortable she had always felt with those words! She was Kate, her inner voice reminded her, free, rebellious Kate who had always taken pleasure whenever she felt like it. Aware that she was being selfish though and possibly immature, she had continued to resist the advances of the French agent. However, at the end of the week they had drinks in a bar and then it happened. No love, no intimate talks, just passionate sex. Two bodies devouring each other, going at it for hours and hours. The next morning she felt entirely satisfied and terribly guilty at the same time. She had cheated on Roger and she was going to have to tell him. What also worried her was something that she finally had to face, something that would have become problematic for their relationship anyway. Sex with Roger was sweet and loving, but very much lacking in passion too. She didn’t want to admit it at first, but just remembering the Frenchman’s big, strong hands on her hips and his thick cock inside her set her on fire in a way that Roger never had. She wouldn’t tell him that of course, but it was a problem that she needed to take into consideration. For some people mediocre sex might be a price they gladly paid in exchange for a loving partner, but that morning in the desert Kate knew that she wasn’t one of them. She needed more, much more. At that moment she was convinced that the engagement would be over and that it was probably for the best too.
Back in London she and Roger had the conversation. Understandably he felt hurt and betrayed. They broke off the engagement and that was that, she thought. A week later however she found him on her doorstep with flowers. Flowers? Wasn’t she the one who needed to apologize to him? Well, it turned out that he hadn’t come to apologize, but to be more honest about what he felt. It was then that he told her that her affair turned him on immensely. At first she didn’t believe him, thinking that he was just desperate to get her back, but they talked the whole night and she learned a lot about this strange kink of men getting pleasure out of being cuckolded. So apparently Roger was one of them. She asked him how long he had had this desire and he admitted that it stemmed from a time long before they met. That was good, she thought, because it meant that it was not directly linked to her affair.
After this emotional and revealing night they continued their relationship, but now with the promise that they would communicate better and be more open with each other. In the months that followed they also took their newly found knowledge to bed with them. During lovemaking she would tell him about the Frenchman and how well he had fucked her. It drove Roger wild and even though he never matched the Frenchman, or some of the other lovers she had, Kate got happier and happier about their sex life. They started to experiment in other ways too. She would tie him up and occasionally even spank him like a little boy. It was like opening the infamous Pandora’s Box, both of them discovering more and more kinky games. At some point they switched roles too, him dominating her, but that just made them laugh, because somehow it felt ridiculous. It was clear for them then that it only worked when she was dominant and he was submissive.
In the years that followed they got married and bought a beautiful house near Holland Park. Roger was making a fortune and Kate had always had money. They seemed a rich, yet ordinary couple and in many ways that’s exactly what they were. They had their group of friends and their careers, Roger working in the City, Kate at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which was a smokescreen of course and a perfect alibi for her secret missions. They never told anyone close to them about the kinky side of their marriage, but together they slipped in and out of that dark and delightful world whenever they felt like it. In the basement of their house they had created two playrooms full of kinky instruments, Kate’s dungeon where Roger served her in ways that were incomprehensible to the vanilla world outside. They also played when Kate was traveling. That usually involved a chastity belt for Roger and a lover for Kate. One of them was the Frenchman with whom it had all started. She had never worked with him again, but whenever she was in the Middle East she called him up and sometimes they would spend the night. Sex with him remained spectacularly good, the difference with the first time being that now she could tell Roger beforehand. No more guilt, just pleasure and a twisted complicity with her husband.
And now they were here with young Will from America, who was kissing her and trying to feel her up while her husband was watching. They were all excited now. She could see it in their eyes and feel it in her body. Her panties were getting wet and her nipples were hard. Perhaps they could skip the dancing and the drinks and take the boy home right away. She broke off the kiss and suggested as much to both men, who of course agreed. Fifteen minutes later they were in a taxi driving across London. Roger in the front seat and she and Will in the backseat, where they continued their kissing. Here, in the dark, she allowed Will’s hand to go further up her legs. She had positioned herself in such a way that Roger could see a bit of the action too. He was talking to the driver about cricket, facing the man, but glancing at them in the backseat from the corner of his eye. She spread her legs a bit wider, so that Will could work his way up and Roger wouldn’t have to miss a thing. Will’s hand went up indeed, over her stockings and to the bare skin above it. She lifted up her dress and pushed her hips forward. While Will slipped a finger underneath the lace panties and began to caress her wet pussy, she looked her husband straight in the eye. No more cricket talk for him. He was extremely excited, she could tell and so was she. His gaze went down to between her legs and stayed there, watching intently how his wife was getting fingered by a stranger. Oh, and how well Will was touching her clit! Gently and with just the right rhythm. She moaned softly and closed her eyes. She threw her head back and focused on the American’s fingers that were about to bring her to a climax. It was then that her work phone rang. Both Roger and she recognized the ringtone immediately and knew that most likely young Will was about to be sent on his way. She took the phone out of her bag, still breathing hard, but trying to recollect herself as she sat up. As she had suspected it was her contact at MI6, who asked her if she had seen the news. A terrorist attack in Marrakech, many casualties, mostly American and British. It happened during the day, her contact said, and at first it had been total mayhem. Now a clearer picture emerged and to make a long story short, a car would swing by her house and take her to Gatwick Airport from where she would fly to Marrakech.
In case you're interested in the whole book: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07J576G5Y
