Leave it to Ryan and myself to plan a London adventure during the hottest summer across the pond. But there was sweltering heat back home too, so we figured we might as well be melting here while touring Big Ben. By planning site-seeing in the morning and an air-conditioned pub crawl in the afternoon, we would make the most of our “London-on-a-budget” vacation.
After a day or two, we found a more traditional pub and agreed that this would be the site of our afternoon activities for the rest of the trip. The Rose and Crown was a respite for two weary tourists; ready with a comfy bar stool and a cold ale as we walked in the door drenched in sweat from the morning’s latest venture. Over the afternoons, we befriended the barkeep, Walter, and on the fifth day, we were lamenting that we couldn’t handle any more outside activities, but what would we do on the cheap for our last two days of the trip?
Walter put two more cold ones in front of us, gave Ryan an unmistakable wink, and joked that he was surprised a young couple such as ourselves couldn’t find something in our hotel room to occupy our time.
Giggling, I said, “If you saw the dump my husband found for us to stay in, you would understand why we want to spend as little time as possible there.”
Ryan hung his head like an admonished puppy. “Ok, ok, for the last time, it didn’t look that bad on Expedia, and it got 3.5 stars! But she’s right, Walter, help us out. Any ideas for indoor activities?”
Walter wiped the counter again and then rubbed his stubble-covered chin, thinking about our conundrum. I could almost see the light bulb pop on as Walter adjusted his sullied apron before he leaned against the bar and casually suggested, “You should go to the Dorchester!”
I am sure I saw ale shoot out Ryan’s nose as he gaffed at the idea and slammed his mug back down on the age-scarred bar.
“What? Walter, have you not been listening to us all week? It took us five years to save enough money to come on this vacation, and we are here on a budget. We could not move to the Dorchester, even for one night!”
Walter’s boisterous laugh filled the bar and jiggled his beer belly. “I didn’t say stay there. I said to go there. You could have dinner, or go to the bar that has music. Amanda would love that,” nodding his head towards me. “Or even just go have tea in the Orchid Room.”
Scenes from Downton Abbey filled my mind. “You mean they would let us in for High Tea?”
“Oh, shite you Americans! No, they have Afternoon Tea. High Tea is for lower-class working blokes that don’t get time to eat lunch, so they have tea with more filling food after work. Kind of like, what you said you served at your wedding... eh... “heavy appetizers.” No, no, Afternoon Tea is just a light mid-afternoon fare. Tea and biscuits, light sandwiches, ya’ know. I have never been, but I hear the Dorchester does it up right nice.”
I grabbed Ryan’s arm, squealing, “That sounds like so much fun.”
“And expensive,” he stated.
“And very English.”
“And expensive.”
“And air-conditioned!”
“And expensive.”
“And like something that would turn me on immensely.”
“And it sounds like a great idea! Walter, can I borrow the telephone to make a reservation?”
******************
We were up and out of our less-than-stellar hotel early. We didn’t need to be at the Dorchester until 1:30 p.m., so we wandered through some lovely little shops, but somehow our growling stomachs and our American need for caffeine led us right back to The Rose and Crown.
Walter greeted us with a smile, saying “Two fry-ups and two coffees coming up.”
The aromas wafted in our direction, and almost seemed palatable if I closed my eyes; dark roast coffee, greasy eggs, crispy bacon, and fried bread. My mouth salivated like a lioness that had caught the scent of blood from her prey on the Serengeti.
We were feasting on this culinary tour de force that Walter had prepared for us in no time. Just when I thought I couldn’t eat another bite, I dove back in for more because it would be a sin against humanity to leave one morsel behind.
When our plates were clean, Ryan and I leaned back and groaned in gluttony, laughing at ourselves.
“What were you saying a few minutes ago about never being able to eat all of this?” Ryan snorted at me, “I think you licked the plate.”
“Shut up, you big jerk,” I punched him in the arm and kissed him deeply. I was really excited about our adventure today. And it was turning me on to do something so high-brow. It was almost like a few role-play scenes we had done when we felt frisky, but this was real.
He moaned deeply and pulled my head into him, kissing me harder. After five years of marriage, I knew all his sounds, and that moan meant his cock tingled. And he knew all my sounds, so when I softly whimpered into his mouth, he knew I was getting wet.
“Ok, ok, you two. You better get going if you are going to have time to shop for something to wear.”
Our kiss stopped abruptly, and we must have both turned to Walter with lips that looked like fish gasping for air.
“Oh, you weren’t planning to wear that were you?” We all looked down at my spaghetti strap, plaid sundress with brown sandals, Ryan’s blue button-down shirt, and khakis with dockers.
With no makeup on and my thick brunette hair thrown up in a ponytail, I shuddered in embarrassment.
“OMG! I didn’t even think about wardrobe! Ryan, we can’t walk in like this! You saw the pictures of the tearoom on the site last night. What are we going to do?” I searched Walter’s face pleadingly, but it was blank also. With my head in my hands, I finally resolved, “We will just have to cancel the reservation. It’s already 11:00a.m. We don’t have enough time.”
I didn’t even notice the light tap on my shoulder the first time, but the second tap was firmer and more intentional. I sat up to find a young woman that reminded me of a Disney princess more than a real person. She had gorgeous flowing ginger hair, bright green eyes, and cupid lips. Her petite frame and porcelain skin made me a bit fearful that she might easily break.
“Excuse me. I think I have an idea that might help you,” she said in a melodic, high-pitched voice, making me sure she was an angelic singer. You can just tell these things, plus all Disney princesses can sing, right?
“You do?”
“Yes. I am an executive assistant at the Dorchester, so I am familiar with your route. And I can tell you where to stop along the way. There is a good tailor shop where you can stop and get an inexpensive sport jacket for your Mister.” She nodded to Ryan. “Then there is a boutique just around the corner from the Dorchester called Dahlia for you.”
I jumped off the barstool and hugged this angel. “Thank you so much!”
“Well, don’t thank me just yet. The boutique is expensive. But I can tell you a trick some of us at the hotel do in a pinch.”
“Yes, please. I really want to be able to make this tea.”
“Well, sometimes, if we get stuck at the hotel and can’t get home to change before an event, we run over and buy a dress but just tuck the tags in and return it the next day. You must be careful not to get anything on the dress or pull a thread or anything. It must look new. And you just say you didn’t like the fit, or the color wasn’t flattering in natural light.”
I looked at Ryan with my hand over my mouth in shock at the advice this hotel employee gave me. But when I saw the impish glimmer in Ryan’s eye, I threw my arms around her again. “You are brilliant! Thank you”
Ryan grabbed my hand, “We better get going. We have some shopping to do!”
*********
Walking into Dahlia, I suddenly knew what Julia Roberts felt like in Pretty Woman. When the bell chimed, indicating my arrival, the shop assistant sauntered around the corner, and her congenial smile immediately vanished.
“Do you need directions to somewhere, miss?” she muttered in an overly bitter tone.
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“We do not have a public bathroom as the sign says, so do you need directions to some tourist site?”
Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I tried to imagine how many times she had approached a customer hoping for a good commission, only to be disappointed by a tourist just passing through.
“No, I am looking for a dress to wear to Afternoon Tea at the Dorchester. Umm...I have another dress, but I think I would like something new,” I lied, knowing that I would be bringing this one back.
Looking me up and down, she sneered, “Do you have a price range for your purchase?”
Before I could answer, another woman appeared from the back just as Ryan walked in with his fashionable new navy sport coat and upgraded pair of trousers, looking like he just came in from a polo match.
“Anna, don’t be so cross. You can go take your lunch,” she rebuked. “Hello, my name is Glenna, and I am the shop owner. Let’s see if we can find some items that will suit you.”
Fifteen minutes later I headed to the dressing room with eight options, one more exquisite than the next.
“Amanda, let us see how beautiful you are, dear,” Glenna called outside the dressing room.
I stepped out in a vintage 1950s-style dress with capped sleeves, a tight waist with a black belt, and a swing skirt puffed up by a layer of tulle in a black and white floral print.
“Classic and stunning,” Glenna said as she moved to help me with the clasp at my neck. But Ryan beat her to it. He gently pushed my hair to the side and leaned close enough for me to feel his breath on my neck. As he closed the clasp, he kissed the spot on the back of my neck that he knows drives me crazy. Instantly, electricity surged from his lips to my nipples. When his tongue swirled again, the second surge moved from my nipples to my pussy, and my juices began to trickle like a faucet barely turned on.
Glenna cleared her throat, prompting Ryan to step back, “Tricky clasp on this one.” My crimson blush complimented the black and white pattern nicely.
Next was an emerald green classic A-line dress with a high neckline and capped sleeves. The fitted bodice hugged my bust tightly and skimmed my hourglass shape down to my waist until it released into the swing of the skirt. As I walked out to my awaiting admirers, Ryan’s whole body visibly perked up from his eyes to his crotch. I also saw Glenna inhale and slowly rub her hand down her neck, across her breast, and slowly rub her nipples until I could see them stand at attention through her silk blouse.
As I stood in front of the mirror, I held the attached waist sash. “Should this tie in front or back or what?”
Glenna jumped into action, placed her hands at my middle and slid them below my hips. Our eyes met in the mirror. “This lies flawlessly on you.”
“You could bring the sash to the front and tie it like this.” She gently took the fabric tendrils from my hands, lingering too long as our fingers touched, then tied the sash in a perfect bow.
“I see,” I said in barely a whisper, as I felt warmth growing from every inch of my body that she had touched and felt my nipples pushing hard against the cotton/polyester fabric.
I hadn’t noticed Ryan sidle up behind me in my fog until I felt his stiff cock pressing against my hip. He liked the show Glenna gave him. And he wanted to carry on with the next act. Molded against me in the familiar way we do, Ryan’s chin to the left of my head, my shoulders pressed into his pec muscles, my ass curving into his crotch, he whispered into my ear, “I think she wants to fuck you. But not as much as I do.”
My knees buckled slightly, and his arms wrapped around my waist quickly to catch me. Ryan slowly untied the sash and stepped back. With one hand still on my hip, he grabbed Glenna’s hand. He placed her hand on my other hip and handed her the sash.
“Glenna, don’t you think that would look better tied in the back?”
“Yes, let’s take a look.” Glenna ran her hands up and down my sides, brushing her fingertips against the sides of my breasts. A soft, unintentional moan escaped my lips, and the heat radiating between my legs rose quickly as she maneuvered the sash into the bow effortlessly.
I turned in the mirror to see the sash and to study the dress on my curvaceous form. Both Ryan and Glenna locked onto me, soaking in every swish of my hips and toss of my hair. Their unabashed attention made me preen even more. I had never felt this sexy in my life. My breasts felt full, and my pussy lips felt plump against my thong. When I crossed my legs to spin around, I could feel my swollen clit, more sensitive than ever.
“Ok, I think this is the one, but there is one more that I would like to try on,” I muttered as I stumbled into the dressing room and closed the curtain.
Holy shit! Why am I so horny? Why is this shop owner turning me on so much? And why is Ryan liking it so much? This is crazy!
I quickly unzipped, shimmied out of the beautiful dress, and hung it carefully on the hanger. As I bent over to get the magnificent vintage rose and houndstooth pencil dress off the chair, I felt a finger slide my thong to the side and easily slip deep into my canal in one easy motion.
Before I could even yelp, Ryan chuckled, “You are even more turned on by that foreplay than I thought you were.”
He reached around to massage my breast as he slid a second finger into me and increased to a quicker, steady rhythm of finger fucking me. I bit my lip, trying to suppress the scream rising in my throat. The display at the mirror was one thing but screaming out in orgasmic bliss in the shop dressing room was a different level of inappropriate.
Ryan released my breast briefly, and I heard his belt click and his zipper slide. In my mind, I was thinking, OMG, we are fucking in a dressing room! We are fucking in public, and it is so hot! I pushed back onto his fingers harder and faster, fucking myself while he managed his pants.
He reached around again and scooped into my bra, squeezing my nipple hard. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Look in the mirror, baby.”
I turned my head, and in the mirror, I saw me bent over the chair, Ryan holding my nipple, and his giant, engorged cock waiting to enter my dripping wet cunt. He whispered again, “Look up.”
I did. And as Ryan thrust his thick cock deep into me, I saw Glenna standing there, peeking through the edge of the curtain. She had her skirt drawn up to her hips, and her fingers were buried deep in her bush-covered pussy. She started pounding away at her cunt just as Ryan started pounding away at mine.
A whirling vortex of sensations and emotions consumed my body; confusion as she watched us, pleasure from his cock so deep, questioning if this was really happening, and pain from Ryan pinching my nipple so hard.
“Ryan. Fuck. What?” Words streamed from my mouth like the honey streaming down my pussy walls.
“Shush. Don’t think, baby. Just enjoy. Play with your clit, baby. Rub it for me.”
Unable to decipher anything else happening, I did as he said. I spread my smoothly waxed lips and nearly jumped when I touched my engorged clit. I began rubbing in circles and knew that I was on the brink.
“Ryan. I am so close.” I looked directly at Glenna in the mirror and saw that she was close too. “Ryan, I can’t hold on much longer.”
Ryan looked in the mirror, and seeing both of us, he growled, “Cum for me, baby. Cum with me.”
At that, I let out the scream I had been holding back. My back arched, my head flew back, and I squeezed his cock so hard as my body seized into one prolonged spasm of pure pleasure, covering his dick with all the sex juice my body could possibly deliver.
At that moment, I felt his cock swell and deliver rope after rope of his sweet cream deep into my pussy with a deep moan of satisfaction; then one more shiver and spurt to release his last drops in me.
We both looked back to the curtain, it was closed, and Glenna was gone. Looking at his watch, Ryan said, “Babe, we gotta get going, or we will miss tea.”
We agreed on the green dress, but as Ryan hurriedly helped me into it, the sash ran up between my legs and came out with a dollop of cum on it.
“Oh no!” I looked at Ryan, worried and wide-eyed.
Ryan just laughed and said, “I guess we aren’t bringing it back tomorrow!”
At the cash register, Glenna grinned sheepishly. “There is a restroom in the back if you need to freshen up.”
I shifted back and forth a few times, feeling his cum run out of me, and grinned back, “Thank you so much, but I’m good.”
********
Walking into the Dorchester was like walking into a dream. The website had not done it justice at all. The entry was saturated in jewel tones, and everything was touched with gold. I could feel the coolness of the marble beneath my feet.
Elegant patrons of every race, culture, size, shape, color, and age filled the lobby, mingling in tongues I could not recognize. However, it sounded like a magnificent opera when melded together.
As we navigated through the posh crowd towards the Orchid Room for tea, these heads of state, Forbes listers, and five-star fashionistas could likely smell the sex emanating from my body. They may not realize what it is, but I secretly hoped it was turning them on like it was me.
Once in the Orchid Room, we were seated promptly at a table for two, already set with cucumber sandwiches and various flavored biscuits. There was also China with a beautiful floral pattern and silverware set for a proper teThe attendant brought out a hot pot of water with a few choices of loose teas and a strainer for each of us. Before leaving, she looked at us and asked, “Would either of you enjoy cream with your tea?”
Smiling, I replied, “I have; I mean, I’ll have cream.”
