Melissa kisses you.

"I'm sure you'll have much more fun without me," your husband says, looking towards Martin. The black Adonis of I.T. doesn't notice. He's massaging Melissa's thighs openly and deeply, to her vocal delight.

"Perhaps," you respond, blushing a little. "As long as you remember to get a little fun yourself," you add, nodding toward Dan and Marcia. You hope you're as randy a mum as Marcia when your time comes, and that your husband is as obliging as Dan.

With that the threesome depart to tour the house.

In the room with you, both Anita in the armchair and Melissa on the couch beside you are beginning to let out little murmurs of passion themselves at the ministrations of their partners. You begin to feel a little self-conscious. After glancing at the rising pleasure of the other women, you look into the fire, not knowing where else to rest your gaze.

From another part of the house, you hear a cry of passionate release. Melanie? But wasn't Gordon just helping with her zip?

Melissa laughs. "Oh, bravo, Melanie," she says. "My little opportunist. I should have known she'd be first. Of course, I suppose I got her motor started." She turns her head to you to see you gazing into the fire. "Poor dear, are you a little lonely?" she asks. "Let me make you feel welcome." Her arm squeezes your shoulders again. "May I kiss you, John?"

In the warm haze of wine and vodka-spiked lemon squash, it sounds like a perfectly reasonable idea to you. Melissa gathers you in her arms and pulls you to her, pressing you to her soft bosom. She looks into your eyes, her own eyes sparkling in the firelight, parts her lips slightly and presses them gently to yours.

You float there, just feeling Melissa's warmth and softness. She tastes of ginger mint. She's more gentle than you expected, more sensual.

Melissa laughs. "Sensual, dear?"

"Did I say that?" you say.

"No, dear, I read your mind," she says. "Martin, would you be a dear and remove my bottoms? I'm very busy with someone important."

Did she say that?

"Got you," Martin says, his hands fumbling with the closure of Melissa's white shorts.

She did!

"Very busy," Melissa says. She captures your lips again, kissing, kissing. "Mmm-mmm, very busy." Kiss. She strokes your hair, tickles your earlobe, runs her fingertips down the curve of your neck.

You sigh. Her fingertips, so clever, seem to be stroking everywhere as she kisses you. Down every meridian, those fingertips, and through your hair again. And kisses. You feel Melissa shift her weight to allow Martin to remove her shorts, and straightaway her knickers. It's her home so that must be alright. And she's a good kisser. And.