Blue Tango

Chapter Eighteen

Chairs on the beach. I do like chairs on the beach. In the sun and silence. Three of us in wicker chairs on the beach at Biarritz. The hotel behind us, the sea in front of us, and overhead the birds in the pale blue sky.

I sit between Claire and Julie, Claire on my left, Julie on my right.

Now a breeze is stirring. Julie moves her leg. They wear wide-brimmed hats. Their bathing dresses almost completely cover their bodies.

I wear a tight wool bathing suit. Black wool. I watch the people who stroll along the beach near the water.

I have no real liking for the sea. I think people who like the sea are too romantic. They dream of exotic bungalows in the East Indies and dark-skinned girls with flowers in their hair. I prefer a hotel in Biarritz and a selection of English ladies strolling upon the beach. English ladies strolling and my two French women beside me.

Edward, you're not at all romantic. Are the women sleeping? The sun always makes me drowsy. Now I wish the beach were private and deserted. I would have the women nude on the beach. Julie's full breasts bobbing as she walks upon the sand. Claire's tight buttocks. Claire would be less modest, more poised in her nakedness. She always shaves her mound now. Her nether lips are hairless, the pink lips exposed. This morning I stroked her thighs. She lay upon our bed naked on her belly as I stroked her thighs. Then Julie entered the room already dressed for breakfast. Julie was annoyed at finding us unprepared to go downstairs with her.

She said she couldn't wait and she left. I remember her pouting.

Later in the afternoon all three of us are in Julie's room. We have connecting rooms. The two women are naked on the bed. I sit in a chair near the open window and watch them. There is music from somewhere, violins from one of the hotel gardens fronting the beach. Julie lies on her back, Claire on her side and facing Julie. Claire supports her head with her left hand. Her right hand moves slowly back and forth over Julie's belly. Then her fingers move higher and she touches one of Julie's nipples. Claire's fingers pull at the nipple. Julie closes her eyes. “I wish they wouldn't play that awful music. The trouble with Biarritz is that it's much too English.” Claire pulls at the other nipple. Then her hand leaves Julie's breasts and travels down to her belly again. Now she moves her fingers into Julie's thick nest. Julie sighs and opens her legs to invite a more intimate caress. Claire begins a slow stroking of Julie's sex. She whispers in Julie's ear and Julie murmurs in response. Claire moves. Julie raises her knees. Claire moves around to kneel in front of Julie. She strokes Julie's thighs.

I look to the sea a moment and watch a bird. The bird glides, then beats its wings, then glides again. Down at the edge of the water, a man wearing a yellow boater and a black wool bathing suit strolls alone.

I look at the women again. Claire bends to Julie's sex. Julie moans. Claire's mouth is against Julie's sex. Julie's eyes are closed. Her mouth is slightly open. She makes a whispering sound as Claire makes love to her.

After a while Claire moves again. She turns her body. She positions herself over Julie, straddling Julie and facing her feet. Now Claire's mouth is on Julie's sex again. Claire's sex is over Julie's mouth. Julie raises and opens her knees wide. She strokes Claire's buttocks. Claire settles her sex upon Julie's mouth. The two women suck each other slowly as I watch them.

In the evening the sound of the surf seems louder. In our room again, I sit in one of the easy chairs. My root is out of my trousers. Julie kneels at my feet, her head bent over my lap, her lips closed over my knob. Claire lies on her side on the bed and watches us. Julie's head slowly bobs up and down as she sucks. Then Claire speaks. She talks about the people at dinner. “The men are so dull. I hate political discussions during dinner. Conversation at dinner ought to be interesting, don't you think?”

“Africa can be interesting.”

My eyes are upon Julie's mouth. Claire groans with annoyance as she complains about dinner again.

All three of us are naked. Claire kneels upon the bed, her face resting on her folded arms. Her knees are apart, her bottom raised, offered, her skin milk-white.

I kneel behind her. I hold her hips as I slowly penetrate her sex. I watch my root as it slides in and out of the mouth of her grotto.

Julie sits in a nearby chair. She has one leg raised, her foot planted on the seat cushion, her sex exposed. She fingers her sex as she watches us.

I continue sliding my root in and out of Claire's open sex. My testicles jiggle against her nether-lips.

Now Julie is on her back, her legs raised, her calves resting on my shoulders as I slowly move my root in and out of her sex. I support myself with my arms. My hips move up and down. Claire sits beside us on the bed. She strokes my bottom. Then she reaches between my legs to clutch my testicles. She holds my balls as I continue pumping my root in and out of Julie's open sex.

The two women are together on the bed. Julie is over Claire, hair unbound, her face between Claire's thighs. Claire has her arms around Julie's buttocks, her mouth pressed between Julie's nether-lips. One of the women makes a sound of pleasure, but I cannot tell which one. I sit near the window with my erect penis in my hand. I slowly stroke my penis as I watch them. I watch Claire's hands as they grip Julie's buttocks. Claire's knuckles are white. Now a soft sound of sucking. The women murmur. Then suddenly a laugh in the hotel corridor as some people pass the door. I look at the ormolu clock on the mantel opposite the bed. I wonder if we ought to go somewhere else next year. I think about England as I watch Claire's hands fondle Julie's buttocks. I miss London. I want to take them dancing at Prince's again. I always like to see the sisters dancing. We shall dance at Prince's in a lovely season.