Threesome Next Door Ch. 15-21

Marsha laughed, "Oh, good. I love to drive." Her foot went higher up my leg.

We were interrupted by the arrival of our dinners, and we shifted to slightly less sensitive topics. I did inject into the conversation that I was happily married and had Ethan and Jillian in college. I commented that they both had steady partners, but weren't entirely exclusive.

Marsha insightfully asked, "Do you believe the only way to have a relationship is to be exclusive?"

I chuckled, "That's a very leading question. Honestly, no I don't and neither does Ginger or my kids for that matter. Being exclusive stops some significant interaction between people that they might be better served by letting life play out in their lives. Most people succumb to the popular meme of exclusivity, possessiveness, and monogamy."

"Oh, you're a philosopher. Would you say you had an open marriage then?"

I nodded, "I would, and we've been explicit at defining it that way recently. Ginger and I even have a written agreement, but it's pretty broad and very forgiving."

"So, do you have other female friends outside of your marriage?"

I laughed, "Oh, dear. You just tripped the 'Gentleman Alert Button'. In regard to that question and related ones, a gentleman should never disclose the nature of his relationships. I will answer in a general way, but not specifically. Yes."

Marsha laughed. "Oh, so you're not the kind to kiss and tell."

I teased, "Recall when we met the first day and I told you about our small consulting business. I told you I could mention the names of some companies we'd worked for, or I could tell you specifically what work we'd done forsomeone who I wouldn't name. I would not tell you specifically what work we did for a particular client. That same philosophy applies here."

Marsha teased, "We are going to have such fun working together. In case you're wondering, I am in an open relationship with a very nice man, and we are not exclusive by design. But I have further questions for you. You mentioned you weren't possessive; did I hear that right? Are you possessive?"

I laughed, "Not in the slightest except when actually making love. I never want to leave a partner lacking in what they sought me out for."

"What words would you use to describe yourself other than in a professional sphere?"

I got thoughtful about that, "Charitable, supportive, kind, low-ego needs, flexible, exhibitionist, voyeur, protective, spiritual but not religious, and loving. I may think of others. That's a tough question off the top of my head. What about you?"

Marsha hadn't thought of having the tables turned on her. "I like your list for the most part. I would add hypersexual to my list, and probably not comment on my ego." She laughed.

I teased, "Another name for a hypersexual woman is a nymphomaniac."

Marsha grinned and raised her hand, "That's me! That's why Kent and I are non-exclusive. He can't keep up with me. Can you?"

"I've been known for my sincere efforts at trying," I replied as I finished my steak.

Marsha caught the waiter's eye and gestured for our check. "Then we're wasting time here. I'm in one of my nymphomaniac moods, and if we don't leave soon we'll be fucking on the dinner table."

I stated, "I believe that's frowned upon by the restaurant management. We're apt to be asked to leave and never return. I like this place."

"So long as I get one good orgasm in, I'll be fine for a few minutes."

An hour later, Marsha lay panting on her bed. I'd just taken her through twenty minutes of my championship cunnilingus that entailed about six orgasms, and then power fucked her into the mattress for thirty minutes that resulted in six more because I knew what to do with my fingers, her clitoris, and her vagina's G-spot as I also intermittently pumped my hard cock into her. She was breathless.

Even with her face partly obliterated by the sheets, she mumbled, "Mr. Carson, I have seriously underestimated your capabilities. If you can do that one more time tonight, you will receive the most revered place of honor in the Marsha Covington Museum of Sexual Wonders."

I did Marsha TWO more times that night.

Ginger had been on her feet for three hours at the front of the conference room. Around the large cherry wood table in front of her sat several executives and a couple of artists from WNM Inc., a large recording company that used to go by the name of Western Nation Music until the executives broadened their purview to include all genres of pop music.

She'd presented the proposal from Carson Consulting LLC, and then led an impromptu working session to refine the goals of the merger and acquisition process she'd just been engaged to lead. Everyone had been impressed, even to the extent that several other meetings got cancelled and people that had said they had to leave early were still in the room.

Ginger looked sexy and professional, a combination that was difficult to pull off and keep the client's respect. She knew the spike heels, just-above-the-knee skirt, and the taut blouse helped. She'd waited until an appropriate time to remove her jacket and hadn't bothered to rebutton the top button on the blouse that just happened to pop open midway through the afternoon. Oh, she was decent, but showing slightly more cleavage than when she arrived. She was dedicated and intent on getting a solid footing for the new project.

The CEO, Paul Taylor, conferred with her briefly and then brought the meeting to a close just after five o'clock. He indicated that everyone would have an ample opportunity to make more input to the project in their personal interviews and other working sessions. Despite some grumbling, everyone was happy with the meeting and stood. Ginger thanked everyone for participating and then started to pack up her notes and laptop computer.

Paul seemed to be antithesis of a CEO. He was tall, lanky, and down-home spun, but she knew from her research and articles about him that he'd been in the music industry all his life, first as a successful recording artist of western songs, and then as an up and coming manager and leader at WNM. While he appeared suave and debonair, he also had an air of country and naiveté about him. Nonetheless, he'd led WNM into the digital era and kept the company successful and profitable where others had suffered.

Paul came up and shook Ginger's hand and held on just a few seconds too long. She wondered whether he was coming on to her. She smiled sweetly and hoped. The invitation for drinks and dinner was shy and awkward for him to make, almost as though he was doing something he thought he should do, but didn't want to do. She accepted the invitation, and they arranged for him to meet her at her hotel -- the Westin -- at seven o'clock.

She called me in the Uber car on the way to her hotel, told me about her day, and commented on her expectations for the evening and asked about my own. I was at a steakhouse waiting for Marsha to come back from a trip to the ladies room, and explained where I thought things stood. We both urged each other a very pleasant and orgasmic evening. Both of us asked for photos, if possible.

Paul Taylor found Ginger waiting in the lobby at seven o'clock, looking sparking and with a little more make-up than for a business workshop. He took advantage and kissed her on the cheek and gave a slight hug. He was country but very manly.

He said, "Since you're staying at the Westin, one of the nicest places for a drink is on top of this building." He escorted Ginger towards the elevator bank and they shot up to the twenty-seventh floor for the L27 lounge. He went on in the elevator, "They have a fine chef here, but he's underappreciated. I arranged for us to also dine here in one of the private meeting rooms. They don't want everybody to know that they will serve dinner up here. Since WNM is close-by, we give them a lot of business, so they're usually accommodating. They have dancing up there starting at nine o'clock, depending on who they have as entertainment."

The sun was setting as they walked around the rooftop pool of the hotel and looked out over Nashville as the lights came on. Paul made no move to touch her or hold her hand, but he was solicitous and focused on her. He even commented that his mentor had schooled him to be exceptionally nice to the people that work for you, because they're the ones who are going to make you a success. He'd followed that philosophy at WNM with his employees and staff, and now applied it to the company's consultants.

Dinner was a relaxed affair for just the two of them. They were well attended by a waitress and waiter. Just at nine o'clock they heard the music start. They'd finished dinner. Paul signed the chit, personally thanked the wait staff for their service, and we went out and got a table so we could continue to talk and dance.

Paul edged carefully into her personal life. "You're married?"

"Yes. Two grown children in college. My husband Steve is in the same business. He's in Dallas tonight, and dining out with his client as well. According to him she's very pretty and approachable." Ginger hoped her comment might help reveal her predilections.

"You're jealous?"

"Oh, no. We're past that. We don't worry about each other, other than to hope that we both are doing good work and having fun."

"Does that leave the door open for us to dance?"

"Oh, yes, of course. The door is ... wide open." She flashed him a broad smile and wondered how much of a hint he'd take to get on her wavelength. He was kind of a hunky guy, and she liked him.

Paul led the way to the dance floor and she melted into his arms, snuggling right up close to him and making sure his groin was pressed against her body. She could immediately feel his passion. This was no seventh grade sock hop where the teachers would break you apart if you got too close together. Paul was surprised, but cuddled her into him as they swayed to the slow dance music. A fast number followed, and they broke apart and did some funky dance moves. A slow number followed that, and Ginger flattened herself against Paul's body again, making sure to reconnect their sexual parts. This time she slightly humped along one of his thighs. She thought he might be getting the idea.

Paul was the one that instigated the first kiss. He wasn't very forward, but they'd been staring into each other's eyes for a few minutes, so the kiss was the logical next step. That first kiss was like the first drop of water that heads downstream after a torrential rainstorm in the mountains. A deluge followed. The kisses rained down from each of them on the other. Even when they sat down to enjoy their nightcap, the kisses continued as Ginger nearly sat in Paul's lap.

Ginger and Paul's hands touched everywhere they could and still be proper given the lounge setting. She stroked his chest, even reaching through his shirt with a few fingers to stroke his chest. She encouraged his touches to her open chest and cleavage by putting his hand where he obviously wanted to put it. He stroked her legs right up to the hem of her skirt. She stroked his slacks up to the rising bump that she allowed the back of her hand to bump against with increasing frequency. His fingers traced a little higher under the hem of her skirt.

Ginger said, "You know we could dance more comfortably in my room. It's only a short elevator ride away."

Paul stood. He tossed some bills on the table, and they left the L27 lounge. Ginger was on the fourteenth floor. Shortly after the door to her room closed they were back in each other's arms. Clothes started to fly, after that.

Paul proved to be an attentive lover that adored Ginger and made love to her pussy and then to her. They did three rounds before he left at two a.m. During round two, Ginger had taken a picture of the two of them. She shot down her nude body to his as she rode him like a cowgirl. The picture got sent to her husband, a point she promised to clarify for Paul sometime soon. He didn't complain.

Ginger did note that Steve had sent her one picture. The shot was down her husband's body to where his cock penetrated the body of a pretty brunette with perky breasts. She was smiling at the camera and waving with a couple of fingers on one hand. She thought, 'Oh, good. He's having fun.' She showed Paul the photo and commented, "My husband is having a nice night, too."

My thoughts when I got Ginger's sext were, 'Oh, good. She's having fun." Later, she related the whole story to me.