Reaches For The Phone

Rick: Hello.
Ferrari: Rick? This is Ferrari. We need to talk.
Rick: So, talk. I'm listening.
Ferrari: Not over the phone.
Rick: You know you are being paranoid?
Ferrari: Hahaha. Just because I am paranoid does not prove that my line is not tapped.
Rick: Alright... I can meet you at The Blue Parrot in an hour. . . Or . . . . . We can meet at your home. Say, one o'clock? I know that Yvonne would like that.
Ferrari: HAHAHA! That's what I like about you, Rick. You are the only man in Casablanca who is faster at swooping in on an opportunity than I am. Let me get word to my housekeeper so that she can be prepared.

*click*

Yvonne, still naked, was standing in the door way between the living room/office and the bedroom, leaning on one outstretched arm against the door jamb. "Are we going over to Signor Ferrari's?" she asked. When Rick said yes, the lithe blonde dashed to the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" he asked, following after her into the bedroom. "It's not til one o'clock. That's three hours from now."

"I know," she yelled over the sound of running water. "If I start now, I should be ready by then."

***** ***** *****

After having tried on over half of her wardrobe, and asking Rick's opinion on each one, Yvonne had settled on a green-and-white floral summer dress with spaghetti straps. The choice of shoes had been difficult. Flats would be better for their walk back, but she knew that high heels made her well-toned legs look even sexier. She opted for the heels.

It only took Rick and Yvonne a few minutes to stroll the two blocks east and one block north to reach the home of Signor Ferrari. Amira the housekeeper, clad as always in her long, black abaya and hijab with the wrap around face covering, answered the door bell. She bid the two welcome and Yvonne impulsively reached out to take both of Amira's hands in hers. The housekeeper, with her dark eyes twinkling, returned Yvonne's squeeze.

"Rick!" the rotund Signor Ferrari bellowed when he arrived in the entrance hall from further inside the house. "Punctual as usual, I see. And Miss Yvonne. You are the personification of beauty, as always. Don't you think so, Amira? Of course you do. Come," he waved his arm towards the French doors, "Let's go sit out in the courtyard. Rick, you and I can discuss business in a bit. Seems to me, Miss Yvonne, that you rather enjoyed the courtyard during your last visit."

Rick's girlfriend hoped that she was not blushing. Just the sight of the greenery through the panes of glass of the doors unleashed a flood of memories. All of them deliciously decadent.

When they entered the small, private oasis of trees, and shrubs, and blossoms, Amira set down primly on the edge of a wrought iron bench, her back straight and her hands folded in her lap. Ferrari flopped down in one of the few chairs wide enough to accommodate his girth. Next to it was a small, round table. Yvonne was about to sit in a chair near Amira's bench when she is stopped by Ricks hands on her shoulders. Upon feeling the zipper in the back of her dress being lowered, she quickly turned her head to look back over her shoulder, asking what he was doing. Rick replied with, "I think the last time you enjoyed Eden more comfortably dressed as Eve."

She did not try to stop him. After all, everyone there had already seen her naked. More than naked. Once the zipper was fully opened, Rick slid the straps off her shoulders. She leaned forward, allowing the top of the dress to fall away from her body and slipped her arms out of the straps. Standing up straight, she let gravity do the rest. Her dress fell to the ground, forming a puddle around her feet.

"Amira," Rick said as he stepped away from Yvonne, "Why don't you help her with her undergarments?"

Silently rising from the bench, she and Yvonne quickly and efficiently removed the bra and panties, leaving the slender, perfectly proportioned blonde on display. With her pale skin and hairless pubes, Yvonne could have been a marble statue decorating the garden.

Amira looked over at her employer and the portly man nodded. The housekeeper removed her long black abaya, folding it carefully and placing it on the seat of another wrought iron chair. She slipped off her flats, pushing them under the chair. But she kept her head and face covered with her hijab.

After admiring both women for a while as they stood there naked, not sure exactly what to do, Ferrari jovially suggested, "Amira, why don't you serve coffee?" Turning to Rick, he announced that his housekeeper had also baked a cake.

As Amira left for the kitchen, Yvonne called out, "I'll help," and scurried after her, her small breasts and tight little backside bouncing.

The two men watched the retreating backs of the women. One in her her forties, the other half that age. They were approximately the same height, but of vastly different widths. Amira had the womanly curves of a mature female. Rounded hips, full ass-cheeks, cellulite thighs. Her light tan complexion made Yvonne's skin seem even paler, almost translucence. The French woman's heels had achieved the desired effect, firming up her thighs and making her buttocks more prominent. Higher. But strangely, the sight of the hijab concealing all of Amira's head except for her eyes contrasting with her otherwise total nudity, was even more erotic.

Once the dual visions of loveliness had left their view, Rick took out a cigarette and lit it. As he sat down in the chair on the other side of the table that Signor Ferrari was sitting at, he said, "Alright, Ferrari. We didn't get together just so that we could stare at each other's woman while she is naked. What gives?"

What's next?