Fiona tossed and turned, visions haunting her dreams.  Moans, cries, pleading.  Filthy words being spit out by lovers in the throes of aggressive coupling.  The slap of bodies, the pounding of the bed, the sound of rigid manhood violating its lover’s inner sanctum.

Moans turned to screams, and Fiona was startled awake.  It was no dream.  Gradually the fog lifted, and she was brought forth into the present moment.  A distinct smell of sex reached her nostrils.  A crumpled dress, which she recognized as her own, lay in a heap on the floor near a chair.  Nearby, a thong and lacy bra, discarded in frenzied haste.

“Fuck me, lover, fuck me hard.  Make me your slut!  Give me your cum!  Please, cum inside me, give me your seed.  Please!”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.  Your pussy feels so good on my cock.  So wet.  So warm.  So smooth.  I love fucking you raw like this.  I’m going to give it to you…”

“Yes.  Give it to me.  Give.  It.  To.  Me.  Oh my god I’m cumming!!” Fiona recognized Angela thrashing about on the bed as Ian’s pace quickened.  She knew all too well that her husband was close, and suddenly he erupted violently, coating Angela’s womb as he groaned like an animal.  Gradually the sounds softened as the lovers came down from their climax and whispered to one another tenderly.  Fiona’s body was wracked by the most intense need to orgasm, but she vowed to comply with her instruction and lay helplessly on the floor as Ian and Angela arose. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” Angela cooed as she knelt beside Fiona.  She reached out and stroked the tortured woman’s cheek, running her fingers through Fiona's hair.  She leaned over and planted a tender kiss on Fiona’s cheek, dangerously close to her lips, and whispered gently, “how did you sleep?” 

The touch and kiss from her husband’s illicit companion sent a shock through Fiona.  Angela rose to embrace Ian, who was standing at the foot of the bed next to her.  She could hear the sounds of their deep kisses.  She looked up to see Angela’s body pressed up against her husband’s.  Her eyes traveled from his lover’s tresses down her back, across the curve of her ass, down her long slender legs to her perfectly shaped ankles, and slowly back up again.  Halfway up her leg, Fiona’s gaze stopped, and she gasped as she took in the sight of a small river of cum pouring down the inside of Angela’s thighs.  Fiona’s stomach tightened again.  An intense, erotic electricity coursed through her muscles and tendons. 

“I’m famished.”  It was Ian, to Angela. “Let’s order some room service, darling.  Fiona, you must be hungry too.  The restaurant downstairs will be filled with sunlight by now.  You may even choose to take your meal on the terrace.  Please linger; there’s no need to rush back.”

Fiona walked to the closet.  She opened the door to see Angela’s bag next to hers.  Her chest tightened again, but she pushed the feeling out of her and chose some clothes to wear to breakfast.  She turned toward the bathroom, still clothed in the lingerie she had put on there the evening before.  She felt self-conscious in front of Angela, and she determined to shower quickly and change in the bathroom to deflect her shyness.  As the water poured over her body and she began to wash herself, she was acutely aware of how sensitive she was.  Every nerve ending on her skin was alive, and she felt as though the slightest touch in any sensitive region would send her into spasms.  She was alone in the shower and considered bringing herself to orgasm in secret, but something held her back.  Angela’s intimidation?  Her desire to please Ian?  She denied herself and, stepping out of the shower, dried off. 

She turned and caught her reflection in the mirror.  She let the towel fall and appraised her naked body.  She felt inferior to Angela, and yet the figure staring back at her seemed aglow, very much alive, beaming even.  She allowed herself a good look in the mirror and saw an attractive, sexy woman.  And she felt sexy.  More than that, she felt, and looked, sexual.  The conflict was palpable.  A broken heart and a sexual glow.  Fire and ice. She dressed and departed quietly for breakfast. 

She took her meal on the patio overlooking the ocean.  It was a stunningly beautiful morning.  She sipped her tea and tried to make sense of the past twelve hours. So much had transpired.  The shock was beginning to wear off, and the bright sunshine and warm breeze allowed her to clear her mind enough to think things through.  Certainly, the fact that Ian had a lover was devastating, and the way she had been treated the evening before was cruel.  Yet Fiona was gradually realizing that if this made Ian happy then in some unexplainable way it made her happy as well.  What she couldn’t envision, at least not yet, was what lay in store for her and Ian.  She had been relegated to inferior status, but would she ever be intimate with Ian again?  Would he leave her for Angela? Would she ever be able to achieve acceptance?  Forgiveness?  And what was she, Fiona, willing to accept, to live with?  So many unanswered questions.

After breakfast Fiona strolled the grounds, not wanting to interrupt the lovers’ breakfast.  Mid-morning, she returned to the room to pick up her swimsuit.  She entered the room cautiously, only to find it empty.  The linens were strewn about the bed, a large wet spot soaking the middle of the fitted sheet.  Fiona was drawn to touch it, then leaned down to take in the smell of Angela’s sex.  Another shock wave of sexual tension jolted her body.  Heart pounding, she hastily grabbed her suit and quit the room.

Fiona spent the rest of the morning at the pool, and around 1 pm she received a text from the concierge informing her of a spa treatment at 1:30 pm.  Ian must have made the reservation.  She checked in with the spa and changed into her robe, waiting in the lounge until an attractive young woman came through the door and called her name.  She was led to the room, where dim light and soft spa music set the mood.  Fiona slipped off her robe and lay face down on the table. 

The masseuse was quiet as she worked the tension out of Fiona’s muscles, starting with her neck and shoulders, working her way down her back, and then deeply massaging her feet and working her way slowly up her legs.  Fiona felt herself relaxing, and the woman’s touch on her body was electric.  She had been in a constant state of arousal since last night, and every movement of the masseuse’s hands sent slight shocks through her.  She was moving closer and closer to Fiona’s pussy, which was wet and leaking.  The hands would travel up her inner thighs tantalizingly close to her lips and then, in a tease and deny ritual, back down her legs, up the backs of her thighs, and across her ass cheeks.  This pattern was repeated, over and over, until Fiona was squirming slightly and silently begging for the woman to touch her sex.

“Why don’t you turn over so I can work the front of your body,” came the gentle suggestion.  Fiona complied.  Her nipples stood out prominently and screamed for the woman’s touch.  She didn’t disappoint.  Her hands massaged Fiona’s breasts and brushed softly across her nipples.  Fiona gave a moan and pushed up toward her masseuse.  The hands moved up to her shoulders, and then she felt a gentle massaging touch on her face.  There was something intimate about this, and she opened her eyes to see the woman staring intently at her.  Was there an attraction?  She studied the masseuse’s face.  She was so very pretty.  Fiona wished she could know more about the mystery behind that face.  Perhaps this nubile beauty was in secret some husband’s filthy mistress like Angela.  Fiona closed her eyes and the hands traveled down her body once again, just the tips of fingers tracing across her erect, sensitive nipples and the undersides of her breasts before lightly traveling down her midsection, stopping just above her pussy.

The young woman’s hands continued to traverse Fiona’s body – massaging and kneading her calves and thighs, down her arms, up over her shoulders, brushing past her breasts, everywhere but her pussy.  Her entire body was on fire; she felt as though she were on the edge of a cliff.  Both hands traveled down her arm, pulling it, then the other arm.  When she got to Fiona’s hand, she pulled the index finger and then inserted it into her mouth, sucking gently while breathing a barely audible sigh.  Fiona stifled a whimper as the woman resumed her teasing journey across her body, this time allowing her fingers to trace along the ridgeline of her slit.  Fiona could smell her sex in the air and wanted so desperately to release.  The masseuse’s fingers pressed gently against her clit and massaged her in little circles.  Fiona felt her orgasm building, her breathing becoming deeper and more ragged, her face flushed red.  Just when she was ready to hurl herself off the cliff, the woman’s hand left her.  A soft voice blew in her ear.  “Not yet.  I know how desperate you are, but your husband insisted I remind you of the rules.”  The woman planted a tender, lingering kiss directly on Fiona’s startled lips and left the room.

Fiona was wrecked.  She lay on the table and tried to compose herself.  Her entire body seemed to be floating.  She breathed deeply in an attempt to slow her heartbeat and calm her jangled nerves.  This seemed to help, and finally she arose, wrapped herself in her robe, left the room, and returned to the solarium.  She sat beneath the skylight and closed her eyes.  The whole world seemed to be spinning.  For the next half hour, she composed herself, sipping water and tea, and finally found the will to return to the locker room and shower.  As she washed the oil from her body, she was once again reminded of her state of high arousal.  Never before had she experienced anything like this.  Every breath, every movement, was sexually charged.  It was as if she were a bomb about to explode at the slightest trigger.  Nothing else could push this feeling out of her consciousness.  It defined her.

As she was checking out of the spa, her masseuse ran up to her.  “Oh, I almost forgot.  This is an open-ended charge card for the resort.  You can use it at any of the boutiques.  Your husband would like you to use it to shop.  He says be back in the room at five-thirty, no sooner.”  She handed Fiona a card and gazed into her eyes again.  “It was a pleasure meeting you.  I hope you have a wonderful day.”

Fiona spent the afternoon at the pool and exploring the resort.  As she walked and took in the sights, she continued to reflect on her journey.  The hurt was still there, at times a severe ache.  But that emotion now had a rival – desire.  There was no denying the fact of her intense arousal.  That feeling suffused her body, her entire being in fact, and was now constant.  What she struggled to understand was why.  What was driving her mad with sexual need?  Was it jealousy?  Anger?  Sadness?  Or was it, as she had to allow possible, that the idea of being relegated to subordinate status to this unicorn was touching something deep inside her that had lain dormant, waiting for the right moment to emerge?  The images that flashed through her mind of watching, hearing, smelling Ian and Angela seemed wired directly to her pleasure sensors, and every time she recalled last night and this morning, a jolt of energy coursed through her veins.  When she tried to think about things rationally, she felt ashamed, a failure.  And yet, when she let her conscious thought drift away and simply immersed herself in the experience, she felt something she had never felt before.

All afternoon the conflict played out inside Fiona, and as she approached the room again it was as though the partially healed wounds were being reopened.  She felt her chest tighten as she arrived at the door, and though she possessed a key, she meekly knocked.  Hearing no answer, she knocked a second time, a bit more forcefully.  She was about to use her key when the door opened.  Ian stood inside, naked, his semi-erect cock wet, glistening.  He looked relaxed, content, and he smiled at Fiona as he stepped aside to allow her to enter the room.  Fiona could hear the shower and guessed that Angela was in it, as she was nowhere visible.

“How was your day, my dear?”  Ian asked, with a hint of kindness. 

Fiona was temporarily speechless.  She realized that she hadn’t addressed her husband since the beginning of last night’s scene.  She hesitated, and then replied, “it was nice.  Thank you for asking.”

“And your spa treatment.  Was it enjoyable?

“Yes,” Fiona answered.

“How was the masseuse’s technique?” Ian asked somewhat playfully.

“Er… fine”, Fiona stammered.

“Anything else you want to tell me?”, the interrogation continued.

“No, nothing.  Really, nothing”

Ian invited her to sit.  She took a seat in the same chair in which she had been humiliated the previous evening.  The irony of feeling like an interloper in this room was not lost on her.  The thought made her quite uncomfortable, and the sting of hurt stabbed her once again.

“We need to talk about last night, Fi”, Ian began.  Fi was his endearing way of addressing her.  The change in tone from last night was noticeable.  Ian proceeded, in a kind voice.  “I know this is all a shock, and I trust it will take you some time to process it.  Perhaps it might help for me to explain.”

Fiona felt her throat tighten at what she expected was coming.  Ian went on, “when we married, it was for all the ‘right’ reasons.  You are incredibly attractive.  Smart.  Professionally ambitious.  Successful.  That turned me on, and still does.  I feel you and I are intellectual equals, kindred spirits, soul mates, even.  But,” Ian paused.

But.  There was always a qualifier, wasn’t there?  Fiona couldn’t breathe.  She cast her eyes downward, unable to look at Ian.

“The intimacy has gone out of our relationship.  That’s entirely my fault.  At first, sex with you was exciting.  But as time went on, I realized that I needed more.  I was suppressing something central to my spirit in an effort to conform to society’s expectations.  The fact is, I’m not a man who can confine himself to one partner.  That’s when I started to stray.  I need to find other outlets for my sexual energy.  I crave the new, the different, the exciting.”

He paused, waiting for Fiona to digest what he was saying.  In the space he created, Fiona suddenly looked up, tears welling in her eyes, the injury carved into her expression.  She drew as much breath as she could into her constricted lungs.

“How long?  Angela, I mean?”

“A little while.  Not that long.  How it happened is of no consequence.  All I know is that it was electric from first glance.  And our sexual chemistry was, is incredible.  Like nothing I’ve ever experienced.  I felt myself being drawn into something I didn’t anticipate.”

“What do you mean?” asked Fiona.

“I was afraid I would fall for her.  And so I threw up the only defense mechanism I could think of.  Because, you see, as selfish as it is, I didn’t want to lose you.  And yet, I couldn’t break it off with Angela.  My only recourse was to expose this to you, in the most brutal way possible.”

“But why?”  Fiona replied.  “Why be so cruel to me, when you don’t want to lose me?”

“I know. It sounds like such a contradiction.  I realized the only way was to force a confrontation, to present a fork in the road to you.  I know you well, Fiona, and had just an inkling, or maybe a hope, that perhaps you might find this all to be a turn-on, and come to accept, if not embrace it.”

“How dare you presume that about me,” came the reply.  Fiona realized her arousal had completely left her, its place overtaken by anger.  “You obviously don’t know me as well as you think.  And how disrespectful.  I should just leave now.”

Fiona was done.  She began to get up, intending to walk to the closet, pack her bag, and leave her selfish, cheating, deceitful husband, when his voice made her pause.

“You certainly would be justified in doing that.  And I frankly wouldn’t either be surprised or blame you.  The fact is, while I said I harbored a secret hope that you would reconcile and even open yourself to this, I also recognized that the more likely outcome would be exactly what you’re thinking right now.  That you would simply choose to leave.  Please know that if you make that choice, I will respect, understand, and accept that decision.”

Fiona sat poised on the edge of the chair.  It was as if all the air had been let out of the room.  She was literally suffocating.  While she was struggling to form the question he continued.

“And here’s the most important thing I will tell you Fiona.  I love you.  With all my heart.  And always will.  If you leave, I will be devastated.  But I cannot change who I am.  It was your bad fortune to fall in love with a man like me, I suppose.”

Fiona glared at him.  But still she didn’t move or speak.  She sensed there was a bit more.

“This is what I have to offer.  Nothing more, nothing less.  An arrangement.  Angela is already part of my life.  I want her to be part of our life.”

“So, are we now to be three?” Fiona spat back.  “You yourself said you crave variety.  What happens when you tire of her?  Or will you?  Let me ask you this, Ian, and if you love me you will be perfectly honest.”

She paused.  He didn’t flinch.

“Do you love her?”

The silence stretched for a small eternity.

“Yes.  I do.  I do love Angela.”

A lance ran through Fiona’s midsection.  She was utterly stunned to silence.

“But I’m not in love with her.  There is a world of difference.  I love you, Fiona, but more than that, I am in love with you.  I know the odds are against it, but I cling to the hope that you love me enough to want to see me happy.”

Fiona burst into tears.  Her emotions consumed her.  She lowered her face into her hands and sobbed.  Ian dared not approach or touch her, and he let her be until her sobbing subsided.  Finally, Fiona raised her head and faced Ian.

“And what exactly are the rules of this ‘arrangement’?”  The edge remained in her voice.

“Angela will visit regularly.  And at times I will visit her.  We may tear off for weekends now and again.  When we are together at our place, you will act as directed.  She is the superior at those times.  You will sleep where we allow you to sleep.  Your participation in our sex will be dictated by us.  And I will control your orgasms.”

Fiona felt like the world was turning upside down.  She couldn’t think straight.  Ian concluded, “Tonight, we have a table for three.  I have no expectation that you will join us, but Angela and I would be thrilled if you would.  She’s a very nice person, and I think you will grow to like her, perhaps quite a lot.  Take some time to think it over.  Our reservation is at seven.”

At that, Ian stood and walked into the bathroom, where the sound of the water had ceased.

Fiona sat, stunned.  Completely unable to think.  Barely able to breathe.  Laughter emanated from the bath.  Fiona needed to escape, but she wouldn’t run.  She rose, strode to the minibar, poured herself a very generous glass of wine, and retired to the balcony to gain some solitude and hopefully regain some semblance of emotional equilibrium.

She sat as the sun sank lower in the sky.  The view, and the breeze, calmed her somewhat.  The wine numbed her, and she gradually began to relax.  She could hear Ian and Angela getting dressed for dinner.  She didn’t bother them, and they gave her the distance she needed.  Finally, she heard the click of the door and they were gone to dinner.

Fiona tilted her head back, took a deep breath, and surrendered to her feelings.  No more thinking for now.  And there it was, barely perceptible at first.  The smallest tingle.  A feeling deep within her, growing slowly.  The arousal, so completely submerged for the past hour and a half, was reemerging.  Her nipples were hardening, her clit beginning to throb again.  All of the sights and sounds, Ian and Angela, the masseuse’s touch, ran through her imagination again, and suddenly she felt a crying need to cum.  Breathing deeply, she knew what she had to do. 

She rose, walked inside, and began to prepare herself to join them.

As she walked into the restaurant, Fiona was a radiant vision.  A perfectly fitted blue dress, tasteful gold necklace, heels that accentuated her toned calves.  More than one head turned.  She strode to the table and greeted Ian and Angela before taking her seat.  A cocktail was ordered and as she sipped it, she found herself relaxing.  Still, the scene was awkward.  Most of the conversation flowed between Ian and Angela, quite in contrast to their time together in the bar the previous evening.  Angela did make an attempt to engage her, but Fiona was reserved in return.  She wasn’t going to give Angela the satisfaction.  For his part, Ian was kind to her.  Their conversation was pleasant but shallow, the stuff of cocktail parties. 

Fiona took the opportunity to study Angela.  She was indeed beautiful and sexy.  Fiona could see why Ian was attracted to her.  Her rival was a study in contradiction.  The woman sitting opposite her was so well put together, elegantly dressed, almost demure in appearance.  No one observing her in a setting like this would guess that Angela was capable of being the dirtiest of sluts behind closed doors. Or that this seemingly pleasant and friendly threesome dining together had been involved in a depraved scene just the evening before.  But Fiona was all too aware of Angela’s secret. She knew, or at least suspected, that vestiges of Ian’s intimate gift were still trickling out of her.  She wondered if Angela was wearing panties. 

The thought made her squirm.  Oh God, she was turned on.  Not just by the thought of Ian and Angela, but by Angela herself.  She felt a growing attraction, and this concerned her.  She wasn’t supposed to feel this way about the woman who had inserted herself between her and her husband.  And certainly any attraction Fiona felt would not be reciprocated.  No, that would be a fool’s errand.  Yet she couldn’t control the growing feeling and her mind began to race, imaginary scenes flooding her head.  Angela’s mouth, so kissable.  Her tongue, her flawless skin, her perfectly proportioned breasts, those pert nipples.  Her long, slender, athletic legs, her round but toned bottom.  And that slit, with its perfect landing strip a come fuck me invitation.  She had turned her eyes down, and when she cast them upward again, Angela was regarding her with a piercing gaze, as if undressing and devouring her.  The two locked eyes for a moment before Fiona looked away, her chest tight and stomach in knots.

Fiona passed the rest of the dinner in a fog.  Her social skills enabled her to remain nominally engaged in the conversation, but she felt detached.  Dinner dragged on, and afterwards, Ian ordered a round of after-dinner drinks.  Finally, the three rose and walked toward the elevator, and eventually their room.  “Their” room.  Not the two of them.  The three of them.  Or perhaps the two of them – Ian and Angela -- and a guest – Fiona.

The kissing began immediately, and the lovers’ clothes came off in hasty fashion, as if they had been starving for one another.  Fiona was unsure what to do, so she simply stood, mouth agape, as Angela dropped to her knees and took Ian in her mouth.  She went down on him with unabashed abandon, slobbering, spitting, rooting down until her lips were planted at the base of Ian’s cock.  Jerking him, licking his balls, moaning with hunger. Fiona realized that she herself had never, ever, given Ian oral sex like this. He placed his hands on the back of her head and forced her further down on him.  The bulge of his cock was clearly visible in Angela’s throat.  Her sucking reached a frenzied pace, eyes watering, mascara smearing down her face, slobber flowing down her chin and dripping onto the carpet. Ian’s breathing began to quicken.  Fiona knew the sound all too well.  Suddenly Angela removed her mouth and looked up at him with desire in her eyes.

“Cum for me love.  Cum on my pretty face.  Cover me with your cum.  For me.  For her.”  And she looked at Fiona, who stared directly back at Angela, transfixed.  Angela spat on Ian’s cock again and stroked it, harder and faster, until Ian’s grunts turned into a roar and the first spurt hit her face.  It was followed by another, and another, and another.  The volume and ferocity of Ian’s eruption was frightening to Fiona. She had never seen or felt him cum so hard.  Angela was sighing as Ian painted her face with his spunk.  It seemed as if his orgasm would never subside, but finally it did.  Ian took his cock and slapped it playfully across Angela’s cheeks.  Rivulets of his sticky white fluid dripped off her face and rested on her breasts.

“Good girl.  That was amazing.”

Fiona stood staring intently at Angela, whose beautiful face was completely covered in the contents of Ian’s balls.  It was horrific and beautiful.  Angela, never taking her eyes off Fiona, stood and approached her.  She ran her fingers through Fiona’s hair. 

“I know that must have been painful for you to watch.  Here, I want to share.”

She took a finger, slid it across her cheek until it was coated in cum, and fed it to Fiona.  Involuntarily, Fiona’s mouth opened, and she accepted Angela’s gift.  Her mouth closed on her finger and she tasted her husband.  She was revolted.  She was grateful.  She loved the taste.  A pain stabbed her chest.  A warmth suffused her mid-section.  Liquid trickled out of her, dampening her thong.

Ian retired to the bar, offering to make drinks.  Angela stepped over to the bath and cleaned her face, returning with robes for her and Ian.  She motioned for Fiona to sit and the three of them sipped their drinks.  Fiona’s shock was still palpable but fading.  Her desire was rising to fill the space being vacated.  It wasn’t long before Angela and Ian were embracing again, shedding their robes and moving to the bed.  Fiona was amazed at how quickly Ian had become hard – raging hard – again.  Still unsure of her role, she decided to take a chance.  She stood and quickly disrobed, and then sat on the very edge of the bed, giving Angela and Ian adequate space. 

Neither asked her to leave.

She watched from a close distance as Ian brought Angela to a violent climax with his mouth.  He mounted Angela and pounded her hard, throwing her into different positions. Angela exhaled forcefully with each thrust of Ian’s cock, her face twisted in response to the intensity of his attack.  Fiona’s body was on fire,  so near that she could have reached out and touched them, though she dared not.  Taking this all in, lying next to this beauty so consumed by her passion, she was ready to burst.  She looked at Ian.  Never had her husband looked more handsome or sexy.  It was an Ian she had never seen before.  God, she understood now why Angela had flung herself so willingly at him.  The sight of these two, fucking with such raw abandon, was beautiful.  She wanted desperately to participate in this sensual moment, and her body craved release.  She began to finger herself, rub her most sensitive spots.  She saw their pace quickening and guessed that Ian was close again.

She knew the rules.

“Please may I cum?”  Fiona asked timidly.

“Not yet,” came the reply.  “Not until we do.”

Fiona edged herself.  It was the hardest thing she had ever done.  It would have been so easy to give in, but she determined not to disappoint Ian, to prove herself worthy.  Her tortured agony felt like it had been going on forever and would never end.  Finally, she begged.

"Please, please, please let me cum!”

Simply a reproving look.

“Oh, God!  Please, you two.  Please cum!  If you don’t, I’ll die!  Please, I’m begging you!!”

Ian grunted back at her.  He was close.  And so was Angela.  The sight, sound, and smell were intoxicating. 

“When.”

“We.”

“Cum.”

Angela now, “I’m going to cum Ian!  I’m going to cum!  Oh God, I’m going to cum!  I love you Ian!!!”

And with that her entire body convulsed and her cunt pushed Ian out as it exploded all over him, the bed, Fiona’s leg.  The sensation was too much for Fiona and she hurtled headlong into the abyss, past the point of no return.  And yet Ian hadn’t finished, and Fiona was horrified.  Her orgasm could not be called back.  She was in that suspended state where the glorious climax is assured but hasn’t yet quite arrived, pure, blissful anticipation of indescribable pleasure just over the next hill.  She held her breath, willing the suspension to elongate, and just as her body told her it was time and that there was absolutely nothing she could do to alter that fact, she saw Ian slam himself back into Angela with a fury and let out a scream that shook the room as he emptied himself into her.  At that moment Fiona crashed, her orgasm overtaking her, her entire body quivering and then thrashing about uncontrollably as twenty-four hours of frustration and denial exploded from within her with seismic violence.

It took Fiona several minutes to come down, during which she was only vaguely aware.  Her consciousness slowly returned to the feeling of hands running gently across her body.  Angela’s hands.  And Ian was close, his hands reaching out to cradle her face.  He leaned in and kissed her, tenderly at first and then passionately.  She opened her mouth to accept his embrace and as his tongue danced with hers; she felt a warm glow.

“That was beautiful Fiona.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen the like of it.  I love you, my dear.”

Fiona was utterly spent.  Unable to think, feel, even sense.  She could only be.  Nothing more.  She felt the warm embrace of darkness descend and envelop her, and with a deep sigh surrendered her exhausted body to deep sleep.