It was another no-show, and I could not halt these sensations. Tantalised all day by the anticipation, the tingling itch would not cease. Restless, this genie refused to return to its bottle.

The need to be discreet out in public forced me to suppress it. Struggling to remain nonchalant, I lied to myself and everyone around me. My senses were on edge as the nebulous heat simmered.

The flames of lust were inevitable. I needed the rapture of intense climax, exhausted in a mire of sweat, musk and perfume. Naked and sated, limp, gorged on his essence and hers too.

Usually, I liked this restaurant, but now it was a travesty of glass and stainless steel with teak decking and wicker furniture. Situated in a marina, we sat surrounded by gin-palace yachts and older men with plastic women.

Distracting myself, I empathised with the staff. Flushed students tried to maintain their poise dressed in black on a sweltering evening like this.

Opting for cool billowy cotton and linen, we chose to stay and grazed on shelled langoustines with crisp white wine. My husband's urbane smile earned a kiss, my effort to codify the emotion in a split second. James understood my plea and drew me into his embrace. Reclining against him, I draped his arm around my midriff as his willing possession.

Without words, he squeezed my hand as I nestled into his torso. A deft thumb drew tender circles on it as an ever-present reminder. Content with his delicate caress, he soothed the intensity and lyricism of my primal need.

Gentle piano and a bossa-nova rhythm constrained me to the right side of decorum. Ensconced and safe, seduced by the notes of sandalwood, I cast myself adrift on the sundowner vibe. There was a cheerful innocence here as an oasis for the ostentatious. It was an ironic joke to those that knew this place... it served a dual purpose.

This island needed the populace of a city. Here was a covert chapel of carnality hiding in plain sight, and we craved a cathedral of vice. Assignations met here, or a chance rendezvous could be found, especially on a Saturday. It required discretion; we blended in and dressed in their uniform. They might bray about how young their trophy wife was or the size of their cruiser. We had other dimensions on our minds.

Waiting to be seated, his smile struck me. Handsome and sun-kissed, those striking features revealed a confidence that belied his youth.

"Now that's a smile," I remarked, "Does he recognise us, James?"

My husband murmured, pondering my question, "I think I've seen them before."

"There?" My tone betrayed my interest, "Did you see them there?"

In the pause, blood quickened on the possibilities, "I think so."

We might not be in the first blush of youth... or our second. We were happy to accept these lingering glances and reciprocate with our own. It was a silent code for those that looked for it.

The young woman attached to his arm did not share his enthusiasm. She stood alongside him in an ivory ribbon dress, all perky, taut, and petite. Those pursed lips rested between enigmatic and a glower I recognised: hands-off, he's mine.

"I knew I'd seen them before..."

Surreptitiously, I peered down at James' phone. He found them there, on that website. Needs must in this small discreet community.

In a picture, they were before me, naked as the day they were born. He was well-defined and athletic, with a stocky erection curved to full attention.

I revelled in her coquettish smile of so many possibilities and her willowy body of racy curves. Firm ovaline breasts capped with erect dark brown nubs screamed to be nuzzled. The subtle flare of her hips led me to the prize of her sex hidden by a slender flank.

"The party..." I surmised, breathless and husky, "I remember now. When was that? Three, no, four months ago?"

"Yes, we were with Xavier and Hilde," he added with a gravelly whisper.

I squeezed his hand, "They watched us from the doorway."

"Yes, and we chatted with them later. We exchanged details."

My purr was my approval, "They were nervous, so we waited for them to contact us."

"That's right. In hindsight, we should have made the first move."

"Yes, and been gentle." I looked over at them, "They are so young. What are they, early twenties?"

"It says they are twenty-four and twenty-two."

"My God," I gasped, "He's changed his hairstyle, and she..."

"Looks different with her clothes on?"

She moved to their table in a symphony of effortless grace. Waiting to sit, he whispered in her ear. Our eyes met again, and her features softened. It was a pretty smile of bared teeth, unsullied by years of cynicism. He looked across and joined in too. Narrowing my eyes, they made the promise of a tigress; I dared to hope they understood our intentions.

Squeezing James' hand, he needed to tell me, "Would you?"

I feared that hesitant sigh, "Yes... who wouldn't?"

"Mon Dieu, me too," I gasped as my body ignited.

As the recollection gathered pace, images flashed before my mind. My arousal thundered with renewed malevolence and frothed like a crashing waterfall.

The restaurant was called Pointe-du-Lac or The Water's Edge. Their glance lingered again, and they dipped their toes in.

Soon, they would take the plunge. I would entrap him with my legs and pull on his behind to plough my married cunt. She would bear witness on all fours taken from behind by my husband. Corrupting the last of her innocence, gifting her the experience she craved. My dancing fingers on her swollen clit, pleading with her eyes, simpering for my tongue there, showing us her intimate orgasm.

She took her clutch bag with a glance in my direction, and our future paramour stood. I knew where she was heading.

Now was the time for my sweetest and most persuasive powers of seduction.