Masturbating all alone was not exactly Dianne's idea of a romantic night, but she could not contain the sexual demands her body made of her, night after night. She made excellent use of the jade phallus, missing Brian's hot body, his fingers: his penis that fitted her so well.

She prowled around her house in the dark, switching off lamps as she went, wearing only the black pearl pendant. She had promised him to always wear it when she was naked, and she did so now, after having pampered her body with so many creams and lotions, so much scent and oil that she was as sleek as a sea creature, and just as shiny. Lamplight gleamed on her skin just before she turned yet another switch, and she was finally in darkness, adjusting her eyes to the moonlight that entered from her balcony door.

Her hands sleeked her oiled thighs, the pendant swung below her navel. Its extremely long gold chain dropped between her breasts, gently brushing against her skin, arousing her to a pitch of fever that was impossible to dismiss. She wanted Brian, needed to be held, explored, kissed, manipulated, kneaded, entered: and overcome with powerful sex.

On the balcony, she looked down at her garden and further out to the city lights twinkling in the middle distance. All those lights! Goodness knew how many came from windows where couples were enjoying each other's physicality. They were probably just now kissing, undressing, exploring. Oh, this was too much!

Brian called her frequently, and just this afternoon they had rowed out on the lake at Brumington Close. In shorts and t-shirts, they had laughed and had fun, with a blanket and a delicious picnic. They had watched other couples finish eating, lying down on their blankets, at a very discreet distance, and knew they were engaging in sexual clinches the like of which she wanted for herself.

'See?' asked Brian. 'Those two over there are necking. They will catch fire in a minute if they're not careful!'

'I'm catching fire,' Dianne pouted.

He rolled over to where she was packing picnic things away, pulled her down to his level and embraced her. His fingers touched her lips, parted them, and he placed his own lips there, kissing her delicately, teasingly, his tongue lightly pressing on her lower lip and then retreating before she could return the caress. He allowed her to fondle him over his shirt, and their mouths met earnestly and fully at last. The long deep kiss was brimming with all the physical longing Dianne could express. It suggested coitus with its plunging, seeking, hardness. It softened and pleaded, wet and inviting, then once more sought to nip and tempt. Brian returned all her oral demands, seeking the skin under her chin, her ear lobes, sending her into rapture with the tip of his knowledgeable tongue. Her breathing escaped in gasps.

'I want to come,' she begged. 'Please Brian, take me, right here.' She pulled his hand to her breast, wanting him to insinuate it past her shirt to the warm skin underneath, to the swelling above the stricture of her chaste bra.

'I will take you, but not like this, and not here.'

'You have never minded an audience!'

He smiled, pulled back and sat up. 'No. But we must wait. Erotic celibacy is just that - spicy and sexual, but not going all the way.'

'Brian!'

'You agreed, and promised. Come on, part of you is enjoying this.'

She smiled. 'And all my other parts are burning up!'

Now, on her balcony, naked after a long bath in which she had stimulated herself to orgasm twice, she smiled and remembered. What she wished for was Brian's body, though. She thought of him naked constantly, knew every inch of him and how every inch reacted to her touch. Her mouth watered when she thought of taking him into her mouth, feeling the length and strength of his erection and the powerful thrill she felt when she gave him head.

Walking into the bedroom in the dark, she took in her fist the dark green jade phallus. It felt as if it had been in the fridge, almost freezing to the touch. She sighed, put it down, then on impulse, seized it up again and started down the stairs. The black pearl bumped against her belly as she hurried down, and naked as she was, opened the door to the garden and strode out towards the centre.

Dianne's garden was not large: walled and massed with rosebushes and gardenias, it was neat and fragrant. A wooden bench stood at one end, and a tiny arch at another. One corner was taken up by an ancient peach tree that did little now but blossom weakly each spring and produce a handful of inedible hard fruit in summer. It was to that tree that she went, determination showing on her beautiful face. There were hidden fairy lights in the ferny borders that lit up her oiled body as she approached. If only there was someone there to see her, she thought, bringing the jade dildo up to one of her nipples and touching it lightly. If only she could do this with an audience of one, or two, men.

The trunk of the old peach tree was rough as she rested her back against it and stroked her body, with every intention of taking herself all the way once more. She dropped the dildo to the grass and without pausing or delaying, started to sleek her hands over her gleaming body, starting at the waist. She worked herself up, fingering her breasts, imagining it was Brian who was pulling her nipples, twirling them so demandingly until they stood up and out, tingling and needing more.

Somewhere in the neighbourhood, music was playing. 'Ah,' she thought, 'a Satyr, come to seduce me.' With her eyes tightly shut, she sank to the grass and rolled about, imagining the beast taking her roughly, without preamble, impaling her on his enormous penis with its hairy stem. She fumbled and found the jade shaft on the grass, and plunged it inside her desperately, the cold shock making her gasp. In and out she wielded it, not sparing herself, until it was gleaming with her secretions, audible in the night garden.

She shouted out, satisfying her lust for the moment. She went on and on, giving herself orgasm after orgasm, hoping to be sated by the morning. When her arms were tired, she stopped. The green jade ornament dropped to the grass and she lay there too: bare, fulfilled and utterly utterly fatigued.

'Fulfilled?' she asked herself in her mirror, once she got back upstairs to repair the damage to hair and skin. 'Fulfilled?' She took a warmed towel and wrapped it around herself, neatened her hair and fell into bed for a fitful night of tossing and turning. She alternated between anger at Brian, and desperation to have him take her forcibly. She imagined him going through the same kind of torture, his hand grasping his cock in an effort to give himself release. But it was only to wake to bright sunlight streaming in from the open balcony door with the same image in her mind.

'Brian,' she said on the phone to him. 'I was just thinking of you... naked... touching yourself.'

He groaned.

'I thought about you... us... all night.'

He laughed. 'Did you do anything about it?'

'Lots! But none is any use.'

'I feel exactly the same. We need to be naked together.'

'Yes!' But then Dianne thought of the temptation without release. 'No! That would be impossible to resist.'

'Not necessarily. Do you know The Julius Resort?' He gave her directions, laughed again at her impatience, and promised to meet her there that night. To his specific instructions, Dianne packed a bag and dressed accordingly. She was tired, but paid a visit to the beauty parlour all the same, glad to have some friendly chitchat with the girls there.

'These scratches on your back are not bad,' said the dermatologist. 'But you must be careful.'

Dianne told her about the peach tree, but not of course about the jade dildo she had inserted in her vagina that night, or the way she had rolled on the grass crying her rapture to the flowers and leaves.

'I've been asked to The Julius, Amanda' she said casually as the woman prescribed a cream and stroked it onto her shoulder blades. 'Have you ever been?'

'Oooh - expensive and not a little racy, I've heard,' she replied. 'You must look your best. Top to toe. Do you know what I mean?'

'Um... yes.'

The long drive to the resort would be worth a relaxing drink, she thought. Brian said he would meet her in the lobby cocktail lounge, where the aspect and décor exceeded her expectations. Clients teemed and relaxed to music played by a chamber ensemble: elegant people dressed to the nines and bedecked with some of the finest jewellery Dianne had ever seen. Thankfully, she did not feel out of place. She wore a silver grey lamée cocktail dress whose high neck, long sleeves and tight fit did her figure justice. With hair piled on top of her head in a knot that seemed so natural it was obviously the work of professional hands, and a pair of long topaz drop earrings, she did turn heads.

'Did you pack an overnight bag?' asked Brian.

He met her exactly where he said, kissed her on the cheek and held her at arms' length, nodding his head appreciatively. 'You are absolutely stunning,' he whispered. 'Look at those shoes.'

Her feet were thrust into silver Italian stiletto sandals that showed off her slim ankles, her toes all exposed, suggesting sexual daring.

'I'm glad you approve,' she said coquettishly.

They had cocktails, then dined in a room hung with fifteen stone sconces, all burning brightly. The waiters wore brief togas and padded barefoot from table to table. On a podium in the centre, a trio of girls danced to strange music, clad in metallic belts that dipped to barely hide their sex. A blonde, a brunette and a redhead, they were strikingly different yet neatly of the same size and shape. Dianne watched them twist and waft to the strains of the lute, their eyes hooded and sleepy-looking, their hips touching. Raising all six arms to the centre, she watched as the women's bare breasts touched and separated, then met again.

They ate an unusual concoction of meats and fruits, sliced and shaped into configurations she had never seen before. It was delicious. Brian placed a sliver of mango on her tongue. 'Do you feel like dancing after this?'

She nodded.

They danced in semi-darkness in a small club in the same building. The music was loud but captivating, and in the crowded room, inescapable. Brian held her tight in the middle of a tiny dance floor where on all sides, couples were doing exactly the same. They hardly moved, swaying slightly to the music and clasping each other. She felt Brian's left hand on her buttock, stroking her through the thin fabric as if they were all alone. His hand reached round the back of her head and he raised her mouth to his. They kissed to the music, stimulated by the presence of other lovers around them. She closed her eyes, then opened them, only to watch a couple glide close to them. The man's hand had entered the low-cut front of his partner's gown, and he was openly caressing her hugely engorged nipple, cupping her breast and inching it out of its garment. The woman's eyes were closed, but her lips were slightly apart, and her tongue snaked out to meet her lover's.

This display of sexual arousal excited Dianne into wanting it for herself. She watched candidly as the couple embraced, the exposed breast visible to all, the man's hand stroking and explicitly causing the nipple to respond.

'Oh, Brian...'

'Yes,' he whispered. 'I can see.'

They left the room, entered an elevator and made their way upward.

'I have booked us into separate rooms,' he said.

Dianne groaned.

'But we can spend a few minutes in mine, together.'

Once the door was closed, they embraced again, and her hands flew to the back fastening of her gown. It fell to the carpet silently, and Brian watched as she divested herself of bra and g-string, to stand before him in her earrings. She slipped them off too, and loosened the knot of hair to let it tumble to her shoulders. Brian took her in his arms.

'I don't know how I am going to do this,' he said hoarsely.

'We've done it a thousand times before.' She moved slightly and her fingers searched inside her evening bag.

He was silent, stroking her breasts lightly and looking at them as if for the first time. He marvelled at their conical shape, the way her dark brown areolas became erect as well as her nipples when he touched them. 'You are incredibly beautiful,' he breathed, his mouth seeking hers.

They kissed again, and Dianne grew hot and more demanding. Slipping the black pearl pendant she had found in the bag over her head to proclaim her nakedness, she hurriedly helped Brian out of his suit and laid him bare, her fingers exploring his entire body: the tight chest muscles, the way his groin was formed, leading down in a triangle of flesh to his genitals. He was superb, and becoming more so as his penis shifted and rose.

But he pulled back as she attempted to grasp the length of it in both hands.

'Please...'

'No,' he said plainly. He took the pendant and dangled it, brushing it against his lips. Then he moved. 'Put this on.' He held a hotel robe out for her - a beautifully soft towelling robe in deep apricot - and she shrugged it on obediently, chastened. They had promised to be celibate until Las Palmas. That was the plan.

Brian put on a similar robe in olive green, and bade her kick off her sandals. Together, they went back to the lift and down several storeys to some place underground. Dianne was mystified. Wearing only the robe, she felt vulnerable and on edge all of a sudden. 'Where are we going?'

He smiled and held a finger to his lips.

They emerged into a lobby where the only light came from a single sconce, whose real flames fluttered when the lift door closed behind them. Padding barefoot, they made their way along a black marble hall that gleamed mysteriously. At the end, double doors opened automatically at their approach. Dianne gasped. It was massive, gigantic: a space made entirely of black obsidian and grey marble, where a dozen or so small round plunge pools and bubbling spas were built onto platforms, niches in the thick walls and into the floor. Levels rose and fell away, lit only by large flaming sconces. The air was scented with some wild musky perfume, and the sound of water was everywhere. There was also the sound of subdued voices: whisperings and murmurs, for the large room was full of people.

Grouped round the many pools and spas, they were all wet, their skin gleaming, and lazily taking advantage of the luxurious surroundings. All were nude, beautifully nude and carefree, conscious of their sexuality and apparently confident of their appearance. It was a wonderful sight, but it made Dianne gasp and feel terribly nervous.

'Come,' said Brian. He gave his robe to a discreet cloakroom attendant, and Dianne immediately did the same, left standing with nothing but the black pendant to grace her body. Suddenly, she blended into the scene, totally bare yet in synchrony with her surroundings, allowing herself to be led by the hand around the room, whose quiet yet sultry atmosphere was making her relax. Couples were plunging into deep circular pools, enjoying the brisk temperature, or lolling in the steaming spas that bubbled with vigorous jets and fountains. From saunas that flanked the room other couples came and went, untrammelled by clothing, enjoying the invigorating experience of steam followed by cool water.

She followed with docile footsteps, not daring to make eye contact with anyone there. Brian stepped into a shallow pool that reached only to his waist, and pulled her to him. It was warm: almost the temperature of her skin. They stood waist deep in it and embraced, just like two or three other couples around them. Brian kissed her, his open mouth suggesting the freedom to engage in sexual activity and making Dianne respond in kind. In the water, she felt her sex respond too, her vagina swelling in the tepid moisture.

'Dianne...'

'Mmm.'

Brian lifted her chin, engaging her eyes to his. 'Let's watch,' he whispered. 'It can get very hot and explicit in here, I'm told.'

She looked around her, and did not have to seek very far for action that illustrated what Brian meant. Sitting on the black rim of their pool was a dark couple whose sleek limbs were well and truly entwined. The man's head was firmly grasped between the woman's breasts, his mouth latched on to a nipple, sucking hugely, making her throw her head back in delight. Under Dianne's gaze, he alternately sucked and lapped with a long wide tongue, rousing her to pure liberal satisfaction. It was beautiful to watch, almost impossible to draw away her eyes. The dark woman pushed the man's head down with some force, and he sank to his waist in water right in front of her, parted her thighs and sank his head again, flaring his tongue, this time to lap without delay at her smooth and fully open vagina, which was pink and daringly bared. Dianne was fascinated, hoping they would not stop. Of course they had no reason to stop, and proceeded languorously, taking each other to a plateau of lust at which they seemed to stay for an interminable time.

All the while, Brian's hands were smoothing the skin on her thighs, slowly wetting her upper body, scooping water over her breasts as she became roused by what she saw. Another couple walked past, hand in hand, on their way to a sauna. Dianne's eyes were diverted by the fact the man was fully erect and quite proud of the fact, and it was due most probably to his woman's attentions and appearance. Practically flat-chested, she was nonetheless arrestingly sexual, with a large triangle of black pubic curls that shone wetly. A small arc of gold shone from her navel, and matching studs were prominent in her nipples.

Next to her in the same pool, the water became agitated by the plunging in together of two bronzed athletic men, who promptly embraced and wet each other playfully. Intrigued, Dianne watched their overtures, never having witnessed the intricacies of homosexual exchanges before. Finding it all quite rousing, she noticed Brian was watching them too, a sweet smile on his lips. What was he thinking? What was he wishing? She could not know.

'This is a very... um, different place,' she whispered to him.

He took her in his arms. 'I really like it here. I had heard all sorts of things, but now I know for myself. It makes a voyeur out of everyone!'

'And it makes exhibitionists of everyone as well,' she murmured. She noted that they were being candidly watched by a woman sitting on her own by a spiralling column. Her eyes followed them as they sat on the edge across from her. She seemed intrigued by Dianne's long chain, which narrowed between her breasts to disappear into the water. The pearl was invisible as it laved and bumped just above her mound of Venus.

Under the woman's scrutiny, Dianne's hand sought Brian's, and he promptly kissed it and placed it squarely in his cock, which was far from limp, but not fully extended. She stroked him, aware of the watcher's eyes, and took him in her fist, slowly massaging him, slowly feeling life and love seeping in to fill him. She played, exquisitely lightly, feeling the freedom of doing so in public. But she remembered their promise to stay chaste, and stopped short of giving him the swift sharp jerks that would bring him to a full head. It was a learning experience, keeping him at a level of pleasure that was at once satisfying and not urgent or final. Long filling pleasure tugged at her stomach as she gave Brian his slow ecstasy, her eyes filled all the while by a couple necking in front of her, and two women gently exploring each other's bodies at some distance.

'Look at that,' she whispered in Brian's ear, conscious they were also being watched.

He turned and looked at the two women she indicated. They were so alike as to seem identical: blonde and tanned, voluptuous and totally naked. They were glowing from a session in the sauna, and were hotly touching each other, pulling nipples, nipping lips, frotting the skin of inner thighs. They walked together to the edge of a plunge pool and holding hands, stepped in, the single splash as they disappeared and resurfaced hiding them for an instant. Wet, they were sleek and sensual, and could not keep their mouths and hands off each other, making such a spectacle that some people simply stopped to watch them openly.

To see if the lone woman was still watching them, Dianne turned her head. She was, but had been joined by a very young blonde man who brought large stemmed glasses of water that tinkled with ice and slivers of fruit. They sipped together, and she saw the woman whisper something to him and indicate her and Brian with a slight nod of her head. Dianne blushed, then turned away and smiled, stroking Brian's thigh as she did, scooping water over his legs and holding his cock and balls in her cupped hands. Cradling him in that way, she started to lower her head, but he stopped her.

'Las Palmas,' he reminded her. 'We must wait.'

'Yes.' She circled his waist and placed her head at the level of his navel, stopping there and hugging him fiercely.

They went in their robes to separate rooms, strangely sated although they had not consummated their lust. Dianne sank into her glamorous but lonely bed, for once unusually replete. Perhaps it was the sight of all those couples engaged in sexual activity that had stopped her physical yearning. What a way to work off excess lust! She smiled, and thought of it as a wonderful experience, hoping she could have it again, one day when she and Brian could forget all restrictions and launch into full blown intercourse if they liked, right there in front of a whole crowd of similarly aroused people.

How would the next few days pass? She had no idea. Boris had invited them to dinner on the ninth, and she had to think of a suitable outfit, but that was still many many hours away. She fell into a deep sleep, not noticing in her slumber that the black pearl had rolled on the sheet and nestled against her flesh, its smooth darkness contrasting vividly with the protruding pink of her inner lips.

Dinner at Boris's always meant music, fine food and entertaining conversation. This time, it also meant meeting another couple, already there when Brian and Dianne arrived at about eight in the evening. Twilight lit up the driveway and grounds as they pulled up, and Dianne sighed with sweet anticipation, looking forward to seeing the old musician once more. He would probably ask her to accompany him again on the piano as he played his ancient and valuable violin. She enjoyed such sessions and cherished the memories. Were they more enjoyable than sex? She could not decide: it was a different kind of pleasure, she supposed. Even when partly disrobed, such as when Brian parted the sides of her low cut gown to reveal one breast as she played, the feeling was one of sensual rather than full sexual enjoyment. She wondered what would happen that night. Something always did at Boris's.

Brian liked the way she looked, she could tell. She had taken great pains with her hair, which was styled, braided and entwined with white stain ribbon that contrasted with her dark wavy tresses. It was swept off her neck and shoulders, showing off her slightly tanned skin.

The gown was new, and exciting. A full white satin skirt fell from tight gathers at the wide belted waist. It stopped at the ankle, ballet length, to show her feet in flat satin pumps. The bodice was constructed of a single layer of tulle, quite revealing and plain by design, to leave the decoration to her body shape, which was unmistakeable underneath. Used to showing off her breasts now, Dianne loved the way the stiff tulle tickled her nipples when she moved, knowing Boris's eyes would rest on them the minute they arrived. Her arms were bare, and she wore only a spray of pearls on a pin attached to the shoulder seam on one side.

'You look stunning, as usual,' said the musician in his attractive accent. 'Whoever designs your wardrobe knows their business well.'

Brian smiled. 'It was my choice, Boris. She tried on several at Da Benigno, and this one just stood out.'

'You look as if you jumped straight out of an erotic version of Swan Lake,' complimented the older man. 'Come, I want you to meet Julio and Berenice.'

Dianne had no idea there was going to be company. What would they make of her revealing gown?

They walked to the large hall where the grand piano stood in the middle, and where Dianne had played many times before. There, a man and woman were browsing through some sheet music on a pedestal table, totally engrossed in seeking something to play. Boris heralded the arrival of Dianne and Brian with loud words and welcoming smiles, so they turned to look.

'Julio and Berenice are both descendants of Boccherini!' Boris exclaimed. 'And they both play cello, of course, which is easily understood.'

Dianne observed the couple. They may have descended from the same eminent genius, but were very dissimilar in looks. Julio was turning grey but originally rather blonde, and Berenice was gorgeously dark, her swarthy looks making her almost a gypsy. Black ringlets tumbled to her waist, and dark eyes needed no make-up other than mascara to enhance her direct open-eyed gaze.

'We are so pleased to meet you.' Brian approached the couple, shaking hands and embarking on a conversation full of music and history and the nostalgia of older Europe.

Boris drew Dianne aside and asked her if she would kindly grace them with accompaniment that evening.

'Of course,' she nodded sweetly. She loved playing for Boris. 'Isn't Berenice beautiful?' she added.

'Yes. And a delight to know. Her mastery of the cello, too, is rare and spellbinding. Wait till you hear her play.'

'And is her brother...?'

But they were interrupted, the other three crowding around, with champagne being offered and toasts proposed.

'To young lovers everywhere.' The sonorous tones of Boris in a buoyant mood rang against the domed ceiling of the hall.

They all raised glasses and sipped, and to Dianne's surprise, Berenice slipped her hand into Julio's. He stooped to accommodate her diminutive size, and they exchanged a kiss that was anything but chaste or brotherly. Before she had time to think, Brian's lips descended on her own, and the four gave Boris something to watch and be glad for.

The music they all played, with Brian watching, was unrehearsed and far from perfect, but so enjoyable and rousing Dianne had to wipe a tear from her eye as they came to the coda of the cello concerto.

'Someone arranged this rather skilfully to include the piano,' Dianne remarked when they were finished. She was slightly out of breath, but re-read through the sheets with admiration.

'It was most probably our host,' explained Brian, he was clapping softly and rising from his seat. But his eye was caught by something happening at the other end of the room. The descendants of the composer of the music they had just played had not moved far from their chairs. Berenice and Julio were embracing, with the man's arm looped suggestively round the tiny woman's waist, almost lifting her off the floor. She raised both arms and linked them behind his head, and they kissed.

'They are so in love! Fancy discovering such a passion after playing together for almost six years, eh?' Boris looked at them appreciatively.

Stunned at the spectacle of relatives exchanging such intimate embraces, Dianne watched as Julio slowly parted the front of Berenice's flame coloured cardigan, undoing the top three buttons to expose a bit of cleavage. He kissed her neck.

They all proceeded to the dining room, where four exquisite courses were served. Dianne enjoyed it all, eating tiny morsels, some of which were delivered to her tongue by Brian's fingers. She knew it excited Boris to see her fed in this way.

Conversation concerned music and history, and not a little humour and banter further warmed the atmosphere.

Julio rose and stood behind Berenice's chair when they had finished a dessert of crème brulee and gilded almonds. 'Now, Boris, don't go and dismiss the ladies to another room, will you? I'd like them to stay here to be enjoyed.'

“I would not dream of dispatching them to where we cannot relish their presence,' said the old man. But the formal words revealed a tone that showed his delight in looking at them, a sexual delight.

Julio laughed. His hands rested on Berenice's shoulders. He caressed her neck under the rich curls, then insinuated all his fingers under the neckline of her cardigan, and started to stroke her. Everyone watched the movement of his prominent thumbs under the jersey fabric, as they stroked and caressed. It was obvious he had reached her small but full breasts, and was rubbing and pulling her nipples.

The woman's eyes were wide open, and she talked and laughed softly as her fellow musician, himself a descendant of Boccherini, touched her so suggestively. Then she blinked, sensuous, appreciative, purring almost audibly, like a cat. She craned her head and looked up at him, with love and wonder in her gaze. His hands continued to play, and her lips parted to show the tiniest tip of her tongue. She blinked again. 'Julio...'

'Hush!' His hands stroked and smoothed, the action causing more buttons to come loose of their holes, and soon they all could see exactly what was happening: two pert breasts, showing tan lines in two small triangular shapes, were being sensuously stroked. In the centre of each, a tiny pink nipple rose in a small point, handled expertly by a musician's hands that travelled knowingly over skin and nub, hiding yet revealing.

He pulled her from her chair and she drew into his arms, to commence a session of oral petting that was at once fiercely passionate, deeply intimate: yet knowingly exhibitionistic. They delighted in showing off the beginnings of lust, even to Brian and Dianne who were almost perfect strangers.

Dianne's eyes met Brian's and he could see in them the desire to have such a session for herself. She was slowly inflaming with similar lust, which she knew could not be appeased for a few days yet. But their relationship niggled at her brain: these people were related - siblings?

'They are first cousins,' Boris commented, reading her mind. 'It is very sensual - their fathers are brothers, one of whom is also married to a cousin, so Berenice has Boccherini's blood well and truly in her veins. She is like a baroque gypsy, isn't she? And so tiny. It is a wonder her hands span the neck of the cello, but she has powerful fingers, and plays like the genius himself.'

'And they live in Europe?'

'Spain - they both studied under Casals, and that is how it all started.'

And proceeded too, it seemed. Berenice's cardigan was open from edge to edge, and her black skirt shifted and flared to her movements as she enjoyed the attentions of her cousin. He took her hand and led her away.

'They will continue in the garden,' noted Boris, 'like forest creatures, on the grass and fallen leaves. Come.'

To Dianne's surprise, instead of allowing the couple some privacy, they followed at a distance, watching as they stopped to kiss at the wrought-iron door, pausing to watch them kiss at a fountain, and stare as Berenice's cardigan and skirt were shed in the middle of a broad expanse of lawn behind the huge mansion, whose windows twinkled in the moonlight. The small cello player was lifted bodily and carried to a large circle of stone benches, where, oblivious to the other three people who sat diametrically opposite from them, they engaged in some startlingly vigorous sex.

Julio discarded his clothes to show he was broad chested, with a scattering of blonde hairs on his arms and stomach. His stout penis had no foreskin - something that intrigued Dianne, who had never seen a circumcised cock - but sprung actively and willingly to action, stroked and encouraged by his left hand as he supported himself over the body of his cousin with his right.

Berenice was sprawled on the stone bench, her fingers working at her slit, apparently unable to bear the wait any longer. She whined, mumbled, her head shifting from side to side, and finally she uttered a high wail when she felt Julio entering her. She bit his neck as he did, and grasped his back, raking him in her mad delight, her legs spread wide in the air above his buttocks.

Dianne sat between Brian and Boris, but could not stand the yearnings this display of satisfied lust brought about in her. She rose and walked away slowly, smiling at Brian in a way that showed she was not dismayed or disgusted, but simply so pent up she could not bear to watch any longer. He joined her, and they left Boris to watch them on his own. They knew he would soon start to touch himself, and gratify his own urges.

A sharp stab of jealousy shot through Dianne's insides as she realised Boris was enjoying the activity of someone other than her and Brian. 'He used to watch us like that,' she said despondently.

'It's not over - he knows about our vow of celibacy, and will wait until after Las Palmas, and we can consummate everything we have pent up - for him - in a few weeks.'

'Really?'

'Dianne - there was a time when the thought of someone seeing the shape of your breasts through your sweater shocked you. Now you long to have intercourse under the watchful eye of an aging musician!' There was no reproach in Brian's voice, but no surprise either.

'I'm jealous, I think.'

'Mm.' He slipped an arm over her shoulder as they ascended the steps to the house. 'It'll soon be over. Just think - we are soon to engage in a celebration to remember, and then we shall be one.'

'How will we celebrate?' Dianne knew it was not to be a marriage: it was not such a formal social declaration. But she was starting to expect some sort of ceremony, some kind of rite.

'You'll see.' He took her in his arms and lifted her lips to his by tilting her chin with one finger. 'Are you enjoying our celibacy... even just a little bit?'

'I am getting turned on by the least thing. And watching something like tonight's tryst is nothing short of torture.' She thought again of Berenice's tiny naked body, and Julio gliding his cut penis into her without effort, without pain: simply beautifully experienced and accomplished lovemaking that took into consideration the presence of an audience. 'I want to tease you and entice you, but I am afraid,' she admitted.

'No need for fear,' Brian said simply.

Dianne smiled woefully. 'I know. Here - let me give you a token of my commitment.'

They stood on the front steps of the magnificent mansion, moonlight and lamplight bathing them in suffused yellow.

She pulled up her voluminous skirts, like a ballerina about to erupt into flight away from danger. She stood on the tips of her toes, looking at the expression on Brian's face. He thought was going to flee his presence, run away into the night.

Instead, Dianne raised her skirts more, and then slid her fingers under the exquisite lace that made up her French knickers. She took off the garment, sliding it down her legs provocatively, her lifted skirts surrounding her shapely buttocks as she stooped. Brian had the occasion to look upon her from behind: her curved spread nates, her folded vulva in between: the tiniest suggestion of her inner lips furled inside, ready to be coaxed and tempted.

'Oh, Dianne...'

'Here.' She straightened and the skirt fell once more to her ankles, but they both knew her loins were bare. She balled the tiny knickers in a fist, took Brian's hand and placed it there. 'Put this under your pillow tonight,' she bade him. 'And dream of me.' Then she raised her skirts once more, and this time did run away, as fast as her satin slippers let her, to her parked car waiting on the gravel, where she deftly started the engine and sped away.


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