Dianne shrugged. Brian's question was either a joke or a way for him to gauge her mood. Brian had never teased her this way before, but it was sexy enough.

‘Did you understand what I said?' he insisted.

Of course Dianne understood. The question was pretty clear, but she did not want to answer until she knew how serious he was. ‘Can I think about it?' she said in a half whisper.

‘So it's not an outright no,' he said in surprise, his eyebrows arching. His hand covered hers on the restaurant table, so she turned hers upward, her palm meeting his. It was almost like the answer she thought she would not give. She did not know her own mind.

‘I want to see you naked,' he said.

And she nodded. He had never kissed her. He had never touched any part of her but her hands. This was not a romantic overture, but an erotic demand.

‘Tonight?' she asked, her throat feeling as if a large marble was wedged there. She lowered her eyes.

‘Now.' Brian placed a hand on her neck and stroked downward. He moved the strap on her shoulder, pushing and nudging it away so it slipped and fell to her elbow. With an extended finger, he pushed at the other slinky strap and her bodice started to slide and fall away from her skin.

‘Not here,' she whispered in panic. The music all around her seemed as if it thudded inside her head. A waiter approached, threatening to come so close he would see the dress slipping downward, her breasts very nearly uncovered where she sat.

Brian was not deterred. He flicked at the fabric and stroked it away, revealing her left breast. ‘My god,' he breathed, looking at her small conical breast and its protruding brown nipple. ‘My god.'

Dianne looked up, her eyes meeting those of the waiter as he stopped in his tracks, realising what was happening at their table. He wheeled and turned away, leaving her to Brian's eyes only. But her skin was aflame, her cheeks burned, and Brian's hand felt cool and dry as he started to fondle her. She was aware of being practically unclothed in a public place, but she could not move. Only his hand moved.

‘My god,' he whispered again, and his hand moved, gently cupping her breast, thumb rolling over her erect nipple.

Dianne felt exposed, flushed, but beautiful and desired. This man who had hardly ever touched her was baring her skin and stroking her erotically in a restaurant. The lights were low, the music too loud, and most of the diners had already left, but it was public enough. The table lamp glimmered and she realised it glowed on her skin. Her naked breasts shifted slightly when she shivered. Brian had lowered his head and was about to take her left nipple in his mouth. As if in a dream, she stroked the hair at the back of his neck and supported his head. She felt his tongue on her, and then his mouth latched onto her breast, suction and wetness tugging at the borders of her mind. She sighed. It was her turn to exclaim, but nothing left her lips. It was a long time since she had been with a man, and tonight she had expected some sort of sexual overture from Brian, but not this.

A couple at another table turned their heads. What could they see? Brian's head at her breasts, his eager attention as he sucked her, was hardly the behaviour one expected in a restaurant. Still, she did not stop him. Arousal had her immobile, and she slowly parted her thighs. A heat she had thought forgotten was filling her groin, and she felt herself opening, moistening.

‘I want you naked,' Brian said as he nuzzled her, pushing back her long black hair.

She did not answer. She was naked – half naked, topless and suckled at a restaurant table. She could hardly believe it was happening.

His tongue lapped at her other nipple, wetting it as it hardened. He would not stop.

‘Brian…' she tried to say his name, taking his head in both hands, but the word sounded like a groan, and her hands held him to her. His left hand was now on her breast, and he rubbed her, twisting the engorged nipple between thumb and finger. She groaned again, then saw two waiters by the kitchen door, staring from that distance, unwilling to approach but too fascinated to do anything else but watch. With his back to them, Brian could not see their wide eyes, but Dianne stared back as Brian's hands finally fumbled with her straps, bringing her bodice up again to cover her. She let him arrange the thin fabric over her nipples, and felt his caresses through the cloth, so aroused she could hardly swallow.

He looked in her eyes. ‘We were watched,' he said in a calm voice.

She nodded. Her eyes lowered again, and she allowed him to tilt her head up with a finger under her chin so their eyes met. ‘They watched us,' he repeated. His green eyes were so deep and dark they were almost black.

‘Yes.'

‘It's exciting. You love it.'

Dianne did not answer. When one of the waiters approached with the bill, she rose and made for the exit, and Brian joined her when she was outside, the fresh air making her skin bristle. It made her nipples rise to feel the wind in her hair, and felt Brian's eyes on them as soon as he reached her side.

‘You have a beautiful body… a gorgeous bust,' he said. ‘How can you bear to be clothed?'

Dianne laughed. She did not often go naked: what could he mean?

Once more, she felt his hands cup her breasts through the bodice, and she was afraid he would bare her here, on the threshold. But he led her to his car, and started off immediately they were both sitting in the leather seats.

He drove to a grove and parked at the grassy edge, hurrying round to her door and almost tugging her out of the car. ‘Be naked for me here,' he urged. ‘Let me take this off you.' His hands brushed her dress away as if it was a mere cobweb. It fell around her feet on the grass, leaving her to stand in her small white briefs. Brian took her hand and they walked towards the trees. Two lampposts lit up their way, and she felt very strange, walking alongside a man in a suit while yellow light threw shadows on her naked skin.

Once more, he exclaimed about the beauty of her breasts, stopping and turning to face her, pinching both nipples in his fingers and pulling slightly. ‘You mustn't hide them again,' he groaned, as he stooped to take first one, then the other into his mouth.

Dianne felt his mouth on her, felt the forceful sucking take half her breast in, the nipple crushed against the corrugated roof of his mouth. She looked at the sky, dark and punctured with the occasional star, and listened to the passing cars on the road behind her. Then she felt lust gather in the pit of her stomach as his insistent mouth pulled at her nipples. They hardened and grew raw and sensitive to the ardent attention, and she felt the heat of arousal open her once more. A palpable wideness, wetness, was almost audible in the night. She lowered her fingers and held her mound, muttering a small whine.

Brian's hand went down to hers and he touched her through the white panties, teasing her softly where she stood. ‘I am going to stand away,' he whispered. ‘Then I want you to take them off – slip them off slowly while I watch you… first your shoes. Go on.' He took three or four steps back and looked, his eyes blazing in the night.

She stepped out of her grey sandals and slid fingers under the tiny elasticated garment at her hips. It did not take much to push down to her knees and then to her ankles. She kicked the thing away, naked at last. She opened her arms and turned her palms upward silently. The light turned her skin yellow. She was faint with sexual expectation. Just as he wanted, she was naked for him, out in the open, in the middle of the night.

‘My god,' she heard him say again. He was backing away quite rapidly, leaving her to stand in the clearing alone, but she did not move. He went to sit on a bench at some distance. Dianne did not know what to do. Watching car lights on the road, she allowed her hands to fall limply by her sides. She looked up at the stars and waited. She looked at Brian and saw him beckoning. Slowly, she walked to him. She would lose the spots where her shoes, her panties and her dress lay, she knew. But it hardly mattered. She pulled off her earrings and wristwatch and slipped them into his breast pocket when she was close enough.

Brian did not stand. He leaned forward, extended his tongue and pushed it into her navel delicately. Dianne pulled his head to her, and his face touched the skin of her stomach. Clutching her buttocks, he held her close. One of his hands stroked, caressed, then travelled forward until he found her moist open slit. Without hesitating, he slid his thumb into her, fondling and caressing, exploring her vagina with infinite care, bringing her to a fuller state of arousal.

She rubbed against the fleshy base of his thumb.

‘Will you be naked for me always?' he asked, his words muffled as he lowered his mouth to meet his thumb.

She sighed. His tongue shot out as his fingers held her open, and the sudden wet onslaught on her clitoris was such that she came close to fainting with pleasure.

‘Will you?' he insisted.

Although she knew it would be hard to manage, she said yes as she stared hard ahead at the trees in the dark, the pools of yellow light on the grass, the red tail lights of a bus as it disappeared on the road.

Three fingers entered her, and he stood, leaning, taking her breast in his mouth. His hand worked smoothly, expertly, and the lights, trees and grass exploded around Dianne, making her utter a wild shriek she felt came from somewhere other than her own mouth.

Brian did not relent. Even though she had shouted her climax out, he did not stop. Bringing her hand to his groin, he made her feel his erection through his trousers as he suckled her again, hard, pulling at her breasts in turn until she was groaning constantly with a kind of pleasure she thought she could only achieve herself, alone, in her bed, with her array of toys. She held his penis, undoing his clothing with her other hand. Freeing his erection just enough for her need, she pushed him to a sitting position and climbed onto his thighs.

Brian looked up at her. His arms rose and rested along the backrest of the bench. He did not look down at his cock, which protruded through his fly and glistened in the lamplight, but Dianne's eyes were lowered, taking in its form, its length and strength. She gauged her height and position and lowered herself onto it. Slowly, she shafted herself on its length, feeling it slide perpendicularly upward inside her so slowly, so surely, she found it was the perfect angle at that moment.

When the backs of her thighs fully met the tops of Brian's, Dianne knew she had reached her objective. His penis was fully inside her, and she heard his primal grunt as she fell the last possible inch, freeing all her weight to fall on top of him. They were locked. For a moment, she did not move.

Brian pushed her slightly away, wanting to free her so his eyes could feast upon her once more. As she leaned, she felt his gaze on her breasts, his fingers probing the skin around her nipples, and his cock shift inside her and rub against the far wall, creating a vacuum that sucked and pulled her slick tunnel until she could do nothing about the sensations but rock and grind against him.

‘Stop,' he said. ‘Wait, not yet.'

But Dianne could not stop. Her hips shuddered involuntarily and she pitched and tossed, making sure she maintained contact between her swelling clitoris and the base of his penis. She rubbed and rubbed, unable to stop herself, wanting to explode again, come to another climax, burst at her seams.

Brian kept shock still. Enjoying her movement, he uttered small grunts and closed his eyes, only to open them again and stare vacantly at the trees and lampposts. He allowed her to rock and stop, shake and stop, grind and stop, until he could take it no longer. Grasping her firmly by the buttocks, he moved with her, taking every lunge and battering with stalwart strength. Then he moaned a guttural cry, so loud two birds rose from a nearby bush.

‘Aarrgh… ahh!' he cried. His forehead rested on her bare shoulder, and she held him against her breasts. Her widely spread legs were akimbo, so she folded herself demurely and rose from his lap. At the edge of the grass clearing she glimpsed a form, which turned suddenly and disappeared behind some trees. Neither male nor female, Dianne supposed it had enjoyed each moment with them, listening to their cries and watching their motion and her nakedness.

She walked as she was to the car. Sinking into the soft leather, she heard the soft thud of the door as she closed it and watched through the glass as Brian zipped his trousers and gathered her things. He looked for her sandals, picked them up and made his way to the car, where he pitched underwear, shoes and dress onto the backseat.

He did not start the engine. ‘Stay naked for me,' he whispered, without looking at her. ‘Always.'

Dianne leaned to him and he covered her mouth with his own. Her tongue snaked past his, pushing into him, tasting his mouth and boldly imitating the sexual strokes of coitus. She probed in and out, out and in, exciting herself with the intimacy of their first deep kiss. Extending it as long as she could, pulling his head to hers with one hand at his neck, she persisted, bruising his lips and tunnelling her tongue into him as deeply as she dared. Brian groaned, snaking his tongue and sucking hers softly until he felt her teeth on his lips. He made a trail to her ear, nibbling her lobe and making her shudder with pleasure.

‘I want to show you off to the world,' he mumbled passionately. ‘Your body…' He seemed beside himself, transported by lust. ‘Your breasts - I have never seen such beautiful nipples.' He pulled away and looked at her.

Dianne took his gaze. She felt his fingers brush against her areolas, rousing the skin until she pleaded for more. His hands played, brushing, frotting and caressing so she thought she would swoon from ecstasy. He pinched her swollen nipples hard and she whined, so he suckled again, pulling both inside his mouth in turn, feeling the round buds soften and harden again, and hearing her cries of pleasure.

At her house, he opened the car door and she walked to her porch, where the bluish light spread from her shoulders downward, making her look elfin and graceful. Her things were in her hands, sandals swinging, her dress trailing on the ground. Taking a key from a hiding place, Dianne let herself in, and slipped behind the sturdy front door, forming a shield for her nudity. She said only one word. ‘Tomorrow.' Then the door clicked shut and she was inside alone. Without turning on lights, looking at herself in a mirror or looking in the fridge, she slipped between her own familiar sheets and was spent, asleep in the twinkling of an eye.

The flat velvet box looked very expensive. Dianne looked into Brian's eyes with wonder. ‘What is it?' she asked.

‘With this on, you will look even more naked,' he said, then swallowed. He was looking at the way her whole body was encased in some thin black substance that coated it, yet left it visible, palpable. It was as if she had painted her torso, legs and arms black, yet he knew it was some sort of fabric that allowed her to look so alluring, so sultry, attaching itself to breasts, stomach and buttocks so closely.

‘You look ravishing,' he wanted to say, gazing at the conical forms of her breasts, whose centres were hard and visible.

‘What is it?' she asked again.

He lifted a champagne flute to her lips and made her drink, then he spun her round, seeking the zip fastener that would free her of the black dress. He peeled it off her form, finding nothing underneath but her soft skin. It lay like a shed skin at her feet and she stood immobile as he opened the velvet case and took out a long gold chain. On it swung a large tear-shaped pearl, as black and luminous as the dress that had clothed her so briefly.

Brian's fingers fumbled a little as he slipped the chain over Dianne's head. It was very long: so long the large pearl swung between navel and pubis, twirling and shimmering. ‘My god,' he whispered. ‘It's… you look…'

‘It's utterly lovely,' Dianne said. She stood back to glimpse her reflection in a glass door. ‘Yes – it's beautiful.' She looked at him in the eye. ‘But does it come with some question… some promise?'

‘It comes with desire,' he said, apparently taken with an impromptu idea, ‘The desire that you always wear it on its own – always naked. Please do not wear this pearl while you are clothed.' He took both her hands. ‘I'd like you to promise me that.'

Dianne raised an eyebrow. She took the chain between finger and thumb and twirled the pearl at eye level. A loop of chain brushed against her breast and she smiled, watching Brian's hand come out and caress the spot, stroking her and pinching the nipple until her eyes closed, her mouth opened and the tip of her tongue appeared. She blinked, starting to feel arousal. Her pinched nipple tingled, so she cradled that breast, looking down as Brian's hand continued to stimulate her.

‘Say you promise,' he insisted. ‘No clothes with this pearl. You'll be naked for me when you wear it.'

‘Yes,' she said simply.

The chain was released and it swung back to its place above her small clump of pubic curls.

Brian made her sip champagne from the flute again, tilting back her head into his left hand. Then he dipped a finger into the golden liquid and introduced it gently into her slit, to make her smile. Dianne felt herself becoming wet, opening, desiring to be filled somehow, anyhow.

‘Won't you take your clothes off too?' she whispered.

Brian lifted her bodily and took her into his bedroom, laying her diagonally across the high bed. His clothes fell to the white carpet at speed, and he was soon just as naked as Dianne, his penis jutting out horizontally, its dark head broad and flat, gleaming in the light from wall sconces. He enjoyed Dianne's eyes on him, so stopped a few paces from where she lay with an arm outstretched as if wanting to touch him. He neared and her fingers closed around his rod, gently at first then firmly. She rolled over and reached with her other hand to cup his balls. For a long moment, she caressed him, lying on her stomach, stroking slowly then letting go. It throbbed of its own accord.

‘Eat me,' he said. And she did, slowly and luxuriously, taking her time and pleasuring him until he could hardly stand. Her tongue lapped the full length of his penis, curling round the glans. Her mouth opened and she took him in, sliding down far, releasing him and gulping down again.

When she looked up he turned her onto her back and spreadeagled her on the counterpane. Feasting on her was like a banquet for the senses. Her voice broke the silence and her natural perfume filled the room.

Dianne looped the long gold chain round one breast tightly and drew Brian up for him to suckle. She put the black pearl in his mouth alongside her nipple, and he drew on them both, creating a new sensation. Dianne swooned with extended pleasure, feeling his fingers inside her, then his rod, pushing insistently until he was fully inside her and moving: moving suddenly rapidly and urgently, grinding and pounding vehemently, unrelenting, until she was shouting her surprise and pleasure to his walls.

‘Oh… oh!' Her cries went past the panelled doors to the garden, where small creatures and birds were startled.

The feast lasted three days. Dianne wore only the pendant on its gold chain. Food arrived and was pecked at, and they slept exhausted whether it was light or dark. They drank champagne and scalding hot coffee, black as the pearl she wore. On the fourth day he took her to the first restaurant, where he had bared her breasts and caressed her in public. Sitting at the same table, she looked around her, recognising the two waiters who had watched Brian lick her nipples so openly. She smiled. She was wearing the same dress, with the same earrings. The pearl pendant lay on her bed at home: she could not wear it with a dress. She had promised.

Brian leaned towards her and touched her breast through the fabric. ‘Do you remember?'

Passion and lust licked at the pit of her stomach like black flames.

She allowed one strap to fall to her elbow. His gaze was palpable on the visible swollen part of her partially exposed breast. Her nipples hardened and he touched the left one frankly and openly, pinching it through the silky cloth.

‘There's someone I want you to meet tomorrow,' he whispered, making it sound exciting and illicit.

‘Who?'

‘A very old friend - one of the most wonderful musicians you will ever listen to.' He continued to stroke her front, until her could see the tip of her tongue. Her eyes were hooded. Brian watched her shift on her chair.

‘You are getting lustful and lascivious, aren't you?'

‘This could be habit forming,' she joked.

‘I want you naked, naked,' he stressed.

They made love on a wooden jetty, in a pool of yellow light shed by an ancient lamppost, rusted to its core. Naked, she spread her legs for him as he lay on his stomach before her, and he buried his head in her lap, drinking in her fragrance and making her moan.

‘We shall come to see you, at your place,' he said on making his departure. ‘Tomorrow, at about nine. Boris and I will arrive with champagne, smoked salmon and his violin.'

She thought of all her dresses hanging in her wardrobe, waiting to be chosen for just such an occasion. ‘I wonder what I'll wear,' she said titillatingly, looking Brian in the eye. She would choose something elegant, expensive: something alluring and revealing.

Brian covered her mouth with his, seeking her tongue, drawing it onto his own, pulling between his teeth. They kissed for an eternity, deeply and suggestively, imitating what they did when they joined physically below the waist. ‘I shall see you tomorrow, then,' he breathed, when it was over.

But Dianne wanted more. She cupped her breasts and raised them to him, offering them to his mouth one by one. He licked them delicately, making her shiver. Then he suckled her lengthily, sensitising the knobs and blowing on them until she squirmed, ecstatic, demanding more. He brought her to yet another climax and allowed her to move freely, her hips unencumbered, her sex open, his fingers and hers meeting and tangling inside her.

‘I shall see you tomorrow,' he repeated, and was gone.

He arrived the following day with Boris Petrowski, champagne, a dish of smoked salmon and a violin. The musician was older, with grey hair at his temples. He looked openly and frankly at Dianne's body in its pure white sheath of silk. It went chastely from neck to floor, leaving her arms bare, but was composed of a material so light and cobwebby it suggested exactly what it veiled. Her golden skin showed through, and her dark nipples, and the opaque triangle of a brilliant green tanga where her legs met. Her hair fell about her shoulders in a black flow, like tar, and her lips were heavily painted in vermilion, lustrous and wet.

She sat the men at a small round table, where the dish of salmon – with its onion rings, capers and tartar sauce – was placed. She sat gingerly on the third chair, supported her chin on clasped hands and looked curiously at the musician. He stared at her.

Without a word, Brian took small morsels of the pink fish and started to feed her. When Dianne attempted to take a slice of fish herself, he shook his head. ‘No, no – I'll do it.' He slipped small pieces between her red lips, allowing his fingers to linger there, caressing her mouth. He held a flute to her lips and she tilted her head to sip at it, feeling its effervescence sink to her stomach slowly. Brian acted as if they were alone at table; as if Boris was not watching them silently.

Dianne rose to draw the curtains and light candles. She listened to the men talk, pricking up her ears and blushing at what she heard.

‘She is exactly as you described,' said the older man, in his heavy accent.

Brian's voice sounded throaty, as if he were aroused. ‘Is she? You cannot really see…'

‘I know – but her body seems just as you said.'

‘Her breasts – her nipples are the colour of tan suede, and the whole dark area hardens and rises when she is stimulated. I have never seen anything like it.'

‘You are young.'

Brian laughed. He looked towards Dianne and beckoned. The thin fabric of her dress swished as she approached.

‘Boris will play for us now,' he said.

The musician took his violin and perched on an antique chair while Brian drew Dianne onto the couch. She did not recognise the music that floated towards them, but it was hypnotic, drawn out and sustained like the wail of a forest creature. With her eyes closed, she listened hard, feeling Brian close to her. She rested her head against the settee and suddenly found his mouth had descended on hers, claiming it, demanding entry. She opened her lips to him and they engaged in a deep intimate kiss. Without opening her eyes, Dianne was conscious of Boris's eyes upon them. She returned Brian's tongued caresses to her lips, and sighed when he started a trail of kisses towards her neck. She clasped him, her arms high around his neck, and so they embraced, tightly, the erotic sounds of their engagement subtle in the music, but as loud as the scrape of a chair in a church to her own ears.

Brian's hands fluttered upon her. He touched her through the fine cloth, his hand travelling from hip to neck and back. He stroked her buttocks and whispered in her ear, licking her lobe as he said, ‘Your nates are as smooth as river stones.'

‘Nates?'

‘It is an archaic word for buttocks,' he replied, smiling.

Looking into his deep green eyes, she forgot all about Boris, in spite of the fact his music filled the whole room. It murmured, then whined, then throbbed around her. Brian's hand pulled at the dress and lifted the hem, insinuating his fingers under and through until he was stroking the skin of what he called her nates. Her thighs were gradually made bare, as Brian explored her skin, fingering his way between her buttocks, and starting to caress the small of her back and the crease between. It was exquisite, and she wished he would never stop. Shifting slightly, she gave him access to her rear, sighing at his strokes. He bared her, stroking and fondling, grasping the fulsome flesh and pleasuring it expertly.

As if from a great distance, she heard the thong of her green undergarment snap. Brian freed it and discarded it to one side. His fingers moved to the front of her, persuasive, invasive, finding her pubis and caressing until her thighs opened of their own accord. Her vulva was slick and inviting, plainly in sight, but she was drowning, not caring one bit that the violinist could see every inch of her most private crevice. Her legs fell apart, and Brian's fingers played as surely and delicately as those of Boris, strumming to the music. Dianne almost swooned, groaning in a kind of delirium. Her mouth was assailed by his tongue: another kind of intercourse. Her vagina was filling with his thick thumb. When she came, her cries were like a song. It was an orgasmic tune that never faltered. Tears started to seep from her eyes, and still Brian played her, like an instrument, in full sight of his friend.

‘That was beautiful,' the older man said, when he was done. He put down his bow and looked at Dianne with a small smile.

He did not talk much, but he certainly could play.

Dianne did not know where to look. Her cheeks flushed and she tried to cover her lower region quickly.

‘It's all right. You look ravishing dishevelled like that.' He stroked her hair and brought his hand down her neck to rest on her still fully clothed breast.

‘I don't know what came over me,' she breathed. ‘What will your friend…?'

Brian laughed. ‘My friend thinks you are every bit as alluring as I told him you were. He is an appreciative fellow.' He rose, brought her champagne glass and made her sip from it as he held it. ‘Show him the rest of your house.'

Dianne led them upstairs, passing through a landing that served as a gallery.

‘A piano!' exclaimed Boris, walking to a walnut upright near a tall window and opening its lid. ‘How wonderful – do you play? Play! Play for us.'

Dianne sat on the leather stool, which felt cold through the thin fabric of her dress. She launched right into an old Hungarian tune she had learnt from her grandfather, which she thought would please the older man. Brian watched, smiling silently. Then he hurried downstairs and brought up Boris's violin. The man improvised, keeping with Dianne in the harmonies and accompanying with soft strains. She stopped and looked up.

‘You are not just a pretty face,' Brian complimented.

Boris echoed his sentiment. ‘She is beautiful and accomplished.' He watched as Brian moved towards Dianne and hooked her by the waist, kissing her softly on the mouth, left hand resting on her bosom suggestively. He watched his younger friend caress the woman, and did not look away when her nipple was taken between finger and thumb and squeezed. Under his moustache his lips parted in a smile.

It was a successful evening, during which Dianne started to feel comfortable in the company of two men. The following morning, there were flowers delivered from Brian, and a long box from Boris. She arranged the flowers in a tall vase while still in her nightdress, smelling the roses and sipping coffee. But she looked at the box from Boris and it stayed untouched.


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