“Mid-cocktail. Mid-conversation. Mid-fuck. If you want out, we’re out.”
“Well,” she replies. “Leaving mid-cocktail would be rude.”
I can tell that Ivy is more at ease when we re-join Madison, who is now chatting to another couple. She thanks us for her drink and introduces us.
“This is Matt and Sarah,” she says. “They’re from L.A. Matt’s a famous Hollywood producer, and Sarah’s a costume designer. They met on set.”
I can see by the way Ivy smiles at them that she is relaxing. I can imagine that Matt is her type: handsome, slightly arty, with that edge people have when they know they’ve done well in life. Sarah’s not a traditional beauty, but attractive in her own way. He wears a cool graphic tee with a black blazer and white sneakers; she’s in a loose-fitting black cocktail dress that’s too formal for the party, but she pulls it off easily. Madison excuses herself, leaving us to make small talk about how much we are enjoying the resort.
Another round of drinks arrives, and Ivy is definitely settling in, listening to Matt describe his latest project. More drinks, and Sarah suggests we head into the jet pool, which Ivy seems happy to do. It seems that I no longer have to be on high alert, and can relax into it myself. That said, I know I won’t be able to share Ivy with another man—not at this party, not ever.
We sit in the warm, bubbling pool laughing and chatting. I feel slightly removed from their lively conversation, unintentionally picturing Matt and Ivy together. He’s cool in a classic way I will never be, and creativity has never been my forte, while Ivy is both of these things. I watch as he expertly draws her out of her shell, and hate him for it. I worry that we are playing with fire here in a way I’d never risked before. It’s clear the two of them have chemistry. What if they want to stay in touch after this party? As if on cue, Sarah sits forward.
“You two are wonderful. You should come spend some time with us in L.A. We have more than enough room, and we can show you around. Wine and dine you. I’m sure you’d love it.”
“Ivy is a fan of Michelin establishments,” I reply.
“Oh, Ivy, in that case I know just the place to take you. I’d show you off.”
“You could come on set, if you like,” adds Matt. “We would have a great time.”
Ivy fizzes with excitement. “Really? I’ve never been to the U.S.”
Their jaws drop. “Never?” demands Sarah. “That’s outrageous.”
“It’s a sin,” agrees Matt.
“I do understand, though,” says Sarah, looking at me. “Fencing you in across the pond. Alistair wants to keep you all to himself. I’d do the same thing in his position.”
Matt nods. “Wise man.”
“We’d love to visit,” I reply, surprising myself.
“Really?” asks Ivy, bouncing.
“Of course,” I say. “I couldn’t keep you small, even if I wanted to.”
I am rewarded with that minxy look of hers, the one that means I will be getting lucky in the very near future. Fuck, the woman is gorgeous. I want to take her right here and now. Instead, I move my hand from her thigh and start gently rubbing her clit through her bikini. Her breathing deepens immediately, and she spreads her legs just enough for me to have easier access.
The bubbles mean that we don’t have a clear view of what is happening under the water, but everybody has a general idea. We carry on with half-hearted chitchat as Ivy slowly melts into the pool. Sarah is touching Matt, her strokes slow and lazy. I get the feeling he wants to lean his head back, but he and Ivy’s eyes are locked. My jealousy has no choice but to retreat, because it is so fucking erotic. When I look at Sarah, she is watching me, her eyes liquid. I reach for her foot and begin massaging it. She pushes it into my crotch where I use it to stroke my cock while rubbing her foot. Ivy sees this and spreads her legs a little more, and seeing her so turned on makes me want to come. I breathe through it, zipping the erotic energy back into my body.
I turn my attention to Matt, thinking he’d want to touch Ivy, but he does not yet have either of our permission. It makes me feel powerful—that I have the key to the gate he wants to unlock.They are still looking at each other, Matt’s eyes dark with desire, Ivy biting her bottom lip.
I don’t know if I can do it.
Matt turns off the bubbles, giving us a better view. Eventually Ivy looks at me, spreads her legs further, the question clear in her eyes, but I’m not yet ready to answer it. Instead, I move her bikini aside to expose her pussy, and Matt’s eyes glaze over with a longing so visceral we all feel it. I begin teasing Ivy’s entrance, just with the tip of one finger, and it makes her squirm, hungry for more. She gazes at me, lips apart, skin dewy from the warmth of the water, and I don’t think she’s ever looked more beautiful.
“Fuck,” I growl. “Ivy.”
Sarah moans as I start fingering my wife, gently at first. Ivy’s arms are draped over the edge of the tub, her hand within touching distance of Matt’s. Tentatively, she touches his fingers, so he holds her hand as I fuck her with two fingers while she nods at me.
“Yes,” she whispers.
I move Sarah’s foot, which had felt so good against my cock, to Ivy’s pussy. It is so delicate; so pretty with its short, bright red nails. I rub it against Ivy’s clit for a while and then push her big toe into Ivy’s hole, and they both gasp.
Sarah is so turned on she is trembling as she looks at Ivy, who is nodding. “You like that?”
“Yes,” murmurs Ivy.
