In the end, I leave it to him. He slips my bathrobe down over my arms until I am naked and decides on body glitter and a wet-look bikini. It’s not as if we’re going out, I suppose, but I still feel a little underdressed in my shiny green thong and halter bra with silver shimmers all over my skin.
Lloyd applies the sparkling gel with a generous hand and plenty of enthusiasm. I think quite a lot of people will be going home with silver scales on their bodies. Finishing up at my upper thighs and buttocks he takes me over to the full-length mirror to take in the effect. I look like a weird hybrid mermaid thing, almost naked in front of his sombre black attire.
We watch ourselves kissing and petting for a while, almost tempted to abandon the plan and just go to bed, but we manage to split for a final tweak and tidy up of the scene of debauchery before the first guests arrive.
Mal, O and Rachael arrive together, splendidly dressed for sex. Mal is in a proper suit – the first time I’ve seen him out of leather and, I must admit, I’m much more taken with him in this guise. O, at his side, is wearing a tiny dress made of stretch lace with hold-up stockings and towering pumps. At her throat is her collar, a ring of locked steel with a tiny padlock at the back. Her hair is in a sleek, severe bun, in order to accentuate this.
Rachael has on a burlesque outfit I’ve seen her in before – a Victorian-style affair in pink and black with a velvet choker and a cunning little hat tipped to the side of her head. Fishnetted legs end in lace-up ankle boots and she is carrying a huge feathered fan.
‘Are you going to dance for us?’ I ask her, kissing her cheeks and escorting her into the room.
‘I might. I’ve just started moonlighting at a club in Spitalfields. I’m Madam Mouffe. I’ll show you my moves later on.’
‘Please do. Maybe we’ll hire you for some of our conferences.’
‘The Worshipful Company of Fishmongers are staying at the moment,’ adds Lloyd helpfully. ‘Do you think they’d like it?’
‘Fishmongers.’ Rachael laughs. ‘I’m gutted they can’t be here.’
We laugh politely, hiding our grimaces, while the guests help themselves to carrot sticks.
Are carrot sticks usual at an orgy? I can’t help fretting about doing everything all wrong, feeling that the kinky contingent will know the correct etiquette and find me lacking.
The hotel-worker gang barrel in five minutes later and reassure me by devouring everything indiscriminately and voraciously.
‘Nice dips,’ says Lincoln, scooping up a ridiculous amount of salsa on some celery.
‘Nice … shorts.’ I return the compliment, staring at the very tight running shorts he has chosen to wear, inside of which his famous equipment appears to be in perfect working order.
‘Yeah? You sure you mean the shorts?’ He grins frankly a
t me. ‘They’re a real fine weave. Come and have a feel.’
‘Don’t mind if I do.’
I nudge up next to him and put my hand over the satiny bulge. Lincoln is one of the biggest men I’ve ever had, and my fingers seem tiny and insignificant against the weight and bulk of his cock.
‘You want some of that?’ he says, charming as ever. ‘You want that in your hot sweet pussy, babe? Cos I can give it to you.’
‘Shall we, uh, finish our drinks first?’
I scope the room. Jake and Jade are hanging around in a corner, slightly intimidated by our kinky friends, I think.
Lloyd steps forward in mine host mode and introduces everybody. There are hellos and how-are-yous and a bit of dry chitchat about the hotel, and then everything goes quiet.
Lloyd grabs a bottle of champagne and pops the cork. ‘I want to propose a toast,’ he says, pouring the froth carefully into eight crystal flutes, liberated from the cocktail bar for the evening. ‘As you know, Sophie and I have been involved with each other for a while now. She’s the perfect woman for me – bright, independent, adventurous and great company. We’ve had the time of our lives over this past year, though not always together. She gives me my freedom and I give her hers. We’ve found a balance that suits us both, and that’s what we’re celebrating tonight. We’re going to live in an open marriage, without the marriage. And an open marriage that isn’t really a marriage needs an open wedding that isn’t really a wedding. And that’s what this is. So I’d like you to charge your glasses and join me in a toast to the non-bride and the non-groom.’
‘The non-bride and non-groom.’ The room is full of warmth and good wishes and I feel a little bit the way a real bride might feel, maybe.
I tap the side of my glass, suddenly inspired. ‘If Lloyd gets a speech, I want one too.’
‘That’s Sophie all over,’ says Jake. ‘She’s the same with orgasms.’
General laughter.
‘No, listen. I want to propose a toast to Lloyd. He has given me something I never thought I’d have – understanding and tolerance and, uh, love. I love him. I just wanted you to know that. That’s all. You can drink now.’
We drain our glasses, then Lincoln slams his down on the coffee table and says, ‘OK, guys. Sex. Do we split off and go into different rooms, or what?’