Argentina

[aaardvarky]

Readers have requested the that part 3 of the previously posted trilogy 'From Norway with Love' should be published as a stand-alone piece. So here it is for those that are interested. (Where not Argentinian, the spelling is British - hopefully!)

INTRODUCTION

To appreciate this story you may first need to know some detail. First, about Buenos Aires. It is not just a capital city in South America, one to which you may never have travelled, nor desired to visit. Buenos Aires is a vibrant, European-style city with wonderful architecture, culture, sunshine, cafes, beautiful people - and, of course, tango.

In the 1900s, when early immigrants arrived in Argentina, they disembarked into the city port of La Boca, bringing with them their Spanish, Italian, African, English and German heritage. Whilst predominantly under Spanish rule in the 19th century, the Argentine became a multicultural melting pot, with its own Castillano: a mixture of Spanish and Italian. The Spanish brought a degree of governance, albeit by the sword, not the page; the English brought investment, afternoon tea and industry; the Germans - quirky architecture, the strange bandoneon, and later their war criminals; and the Italians brought their innocence, charm, beauty and romance.

Buenos Aires, and on the facing bank of the Plata estuary its Uruguayan sister capital Montevideo, were the birthplace of tango. Due to the demographic imbalance, for the first year men learned together before they were awarded the chance to dance with a woman. Competition for females amongst the economic immigrant male population was fierce. Women were a prize. A dagger may be drawn in a darkened passage. Tango songs were filled with melancholy.

The perceptive reader may now understand why Buenos Aires was a perfect, and inevitable choice for L, N and Lars. And may guess why Argentine tango holds such complex mystery.

L leans in towards N and again their lips meet. The prospect of a trip to Argentina appears to have reinvigorated L. He smiles darkly, desiring to take her again. In his mind he pictures a bohemian barrio, N walking hand-in-hand with Lars, sunshine catching her hair and himself waiting for them at a cafe.

‘You will come, won’t you, darling?’ she inquires. ‘But of course’, he replies without hesitation, ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world’.

___________________________________________________


1.

Readers that have followed their progress will recall that after Lars’ unexpected visit to meet with N and L in London, N travelled to Oslo to spend a week with Lars, and later, with L’s blessing, together they flew to Portugal for vacation. The deal was that N would tell L in detail about their adventures, and so she did.

That then is what is especially novel about the story about to be told. Some might see it as a change in dynamic between N and L. Others might simply see it as a transition or progression into an expected, predicted development. Whatever its implications, it appears to have been a choice. All that remains is to see how it works out for them?

—---

From one side of the roof terrace there is a view across Palermo Chico to the river Plata, and north to the tree tops of Plaza Alemania and the Japanese gardens. Afternoon sunshine fills the tiled courtyard below. The only interruption to the silence is the distant sound of a splash from the pool. Raul leaves the staircase to the roof. He carries a tray of drinks, fresh lemonade and cooling Gin and Vermouth on ice.

Their loungers stand between tubs of miniature Erythrina and Fuchsia. Raul walks from one to another, his short white jacket catching the light as he stoops to serve.

The British Airways night flight left Heathrow and just over fourteen hours later touched down in Ezeiza. A pre-booked remis delivered them in air conditioned luxury to their rooftop apartment. And here they are, just as we imagined they would be, L, N and Lars.

……..

The sun casts sidelong shadows across the terrace. Lars rises and crosses to where N is propped on one elbow as she reads the novel that she bought just before they embarked for their flight. He sits on the edge of her lounger and trails his finger nails along her lifted arm. They exchange words, but so quietly, perhaps intimately, that L cannot hear their discourse from where he stretches out in afternoon shade.

N slips the book under her lounger, offers a free hand to Lars and rising, they walk hand-in-hand towards the staircase that leads down from the terrace. L watches them as they go

Moments later he hears voices from the pool below. He follows the sounds, crossing to the edge of the terrace to look down on a bright blue disc into which Lars dives and from which he waves to N to follow. She slides into the water and swims breaststroke to join him. Here the water is not deep. They stand together, arms closely wrapped around each other. Lars wipes a droplet of water from her cheek. She looks up into his face.

L watches as they swim together, occasionally splashing, then floating; laughing. Might N see him as he stands against the terrace balcony? Is she aware of being watched? All we know is that she closes her eyes against the sunlight and drifts across the pool before reaching out to the edge where Lars now sits, his crossed ankles cooling.

L watches as Lars extends a hand to assist her from the pool. This she ignores, swimming to his feet, with one hand parting them, and placing her hands on his thighs for support. She looks up. No words are exchanged. It is too distant to see her smile. What L can see is that, remaining beneath him in the water, N lifts her left hand towards his groin, and in one deft movement, releases him from his swimming shorts. Her head moves forward across his erection, and downwards. He strokes her hair. And so they remain…it is impossible to say how long, but within moments Lars extends both hands behind her neck and, leaning back, pulls her in closer. They make no sound, yet L sees her head rise and fall until they both freeze. L discerns the happening and its implications. Fascinated, he cannot look away. He senses a surge of energy passing through his body. It is as if he were present; as the recipient.

N releases, then floats away. As she does so she glances upward towards the balcony and smiles.

2.

Their Buenos Aires days slip seamlessly into nights, and their nights into days. Perhaps after serving lunch, it is that restaurants do not expect evening trade much before 10 pm, and will remain open until well after midnight. In the meantime the street cafes maintain the city’s energy needs for those with pesos in their pocket, and a flask of Mate sustains those without.

L, N and Lars spend their mornings on terrace and in the pool, afternoons in siesta, and their evenings at the restaurants and the milongas where they will dance until sunrise. Raul, their house manager, with typical sanguinity of the older Argentine, has assimilated our three characters, their particular arrangements and their unpredictability. He notices that N may leave L’s room on the upper floor, or appear from Lars’ studio adjacent to the terrace. He knows neither to ask nor to comment.

Tonight our three are to dance tango until dawn, and we are to accompany them - not to dance you understand, unless you wish to do so - but to simply to sit quietly and observe.

A yellow and black radio taxi arrives in the street below their Palermo apartment for the twelve minute journey via R Scalabrini Ortez to Salon Canning, a traditional milonga of cultural significance. The lattice doors of their apartment elevator open with a clang. L and Lars exit dressed in dark jackets; N looks radiant; and so she should, for she is wearing ‘the dress’.

Having changed her shoes in the restroom, N joins L and Lars at their table by the edge of the dance floor. A waitress opens a bottle of champagne and pours three glasses. Small circular tables surround the pista, as is usual at milongas. Tonight, Orquesta Romantica Milonguera is playing and around the room there is a buzz of anticipation.

Dances are secured by the cabeceo - a leader’s glance across the floor which, if acknowledged by a follower’s mirada seals an agreement to dance a tanda, the group of three or four consecutive songs after which the tangueros return to their seats. Lars inflects towards N; she nods; they rise and leave together to enter the pista where they embrace. Movement in Argentine tango is not choreographed or prescribed. The embrace and generation of movement determines the progress of the dance. The leader steps into the follower’s space, creating dynamic energy to which the follower has to respond. It is evident why some might equate tango with intimacy - the closeness of the embrace in which breasts are held against chest, the determination of the leader, unexpected movement to deliver the pleasure of surprise, a loss of outward awareness, a sense of internal unity.

This is what L perceives as he watches, and we, the silent, invisible observers will see it too - a sacada and a boleo; a colgarda from which her leg encompasses his. He manages her movement and responses, seamless and intimate. And whilst there is outward show, its internal, exclusive privacy is its essence.

As the evening slips into morning, they dance - sometimes N with Lars, or L with N. A second bottle of champagne is opened, then later coffee and medialunas are served. It is at this moment that Horacio arrives at Canning. He makes his living as a taxi dancer - a paid professional leader who, for an hour or an evening, will accompany a follower and invite her alone to dance. He stands alone by the wall, his dark curls catching the light, his handsome young features in part-relief.

As a tanda of Donato starts he nods towards N, and she accepts his invitation with her mirada. He approaches, extends his hand, leading her to the floor. He raises his left arm and she takes his embrace. Her breasts are against his chest, her temple against his temple, his right arm enfolding her back, enclosing her. He generates forward energy; she walks backwards to accommodate him, a parting into which he steps, his thigh brushing hers. His skill and expertise produce a natural command, to which she responds with desired supplication. L and Lars watch them as they enter the crowded pista and disappear from sight. From this point onwards, they alone will dance together.

3.

In the last episode we sat together at Salon Canning. Night has moved gradually towards morning. Professional dancers have arrived fresh from other venues across the city. There is a new energy on the pista.

L and Lars have remained at their table, save for the occasional tanda when Lars would dance with another tanguera. N has remained with Horacio, as the night progresses their dance reaches ever deeper levels of connection, as if N is being absorbed by intimacy - with him, the occasion, the music, the movement, and the dress. Whilst much of their energy is concealed within their embrace, tantalising fragments escape like needles, and these are visceral to L. He can feel their dance, sense their closeness as Horacio steps between her legs, hear their breathing, almost taste her moments of joy when his lead delivers another new delight. Watching them, in the moment, L is transposed into their being.

Warm fragrant air now gushes through the open windows. The roads are almost empty. The sun peeps above the horizon. N is seated in the rear of the taxi flanked by L and Horacio whilst Lars sits upfront next to the driver. She leans in towards the younger man and whispers into his ear, her lips almost caressing his cheek. He smiles in response. She is aware of L’s proximity yet nevertheless places her hand casually on Horacio’s knee as she leans in towards him, a breast against his side, the taffeta of her skirts rustling with her movement as her leg presses against his. She presents as a kitten; tentatively, playfully stalking, free and uninhibited.

Shortly after their arrival at the apartment, Raul appears on the terrace with more fresh coffee and medialunas. L sits propped on a lounger, Lars winds an old gramophone to play a scratchy Calo tango record, whilst N and Horacio dance together in the shadows under the pergola.

Absent the energy of the milonga, their synchronicity has evolved into a romantic intimacy, quiet, smooth, tender and understated. Their cheeks touch, their embrace closer and more impenetrable. Early morning light catches the dress showing its iridescence as she moves against him. When her thigh encircles his hip she feels him, his size stretching against the fabric. She lifts her head from his to glance at his face. His expression confirms her understanding. Slowly she now eases herself from his embrace, releasing their hold to place her palms on his shoulders. She presses downwards, moving her hands to the crown of his head. As directed, Horacio sinks to his knees before her. She releases one hand to lift the hem of the dress above her waist. As if primed, Horacio slips two fingers beneath the straps of her thong and eases it down and over each heel in turn. The fingers of her other hand tighten amongst his curls through which she has threaded her fingers, and she pulls his face between her parted legs. As if replaying her connection with Lars after they arrived in the Algarve, she sets Horacio to work, his tongue sweeping against the folds of her labia to find her clitoris.

Horacio has clearly been well chosen for his skill, for within a minute N starts to shudder. Her shudder progresses to prolonged spasms as she begins to climax. As she arrives at the edge of her orgasm she releases a short jet of urethral fluid against his lips and she sinks against his face. Waves of pleasure lighten her expression. She draws from it every fragment of feeling, knowing that she is watched.

As N lets the hem of her dress fall, Horacio rises from his knees and walks towards the back staircase that leads to the porter’s lodge. There he will pick up an unmarked envelope left on instructions by Raul. Later Horacio’s mother will open it on the kitchen table and wonder how long Horacio had to dance that night for so many pesos.

Back on the terrace it is clear from N’s expression that this moment with Horacio has been a prelude rather than a consummation. She radiates a renewed sparkling energy that needs to be harnessed. She turns and walks across the terrace towards one of the loungers, her fingertips trailing over his forearm. Lars rises and follows her as she leads the way to his studio.

4.

It is mid morning when he is woken by the creak of a door and the clink of a glass against a cup as N enters his bedroom carrying a tray.

‘I’ve brought juice and coffee’, she says as she drops her robe to the floor, pulls back the sheet and slips into bed alongside him.

N’s face is lit by a small band of sunlight that escapes the shutters. Her eyes sparkle. She nestles against him. He feels the graze of her nipple and the damp warmth of her body.

‘What did you think of last night, darling?’, she asks after a pause. ‘Did you enjoy it as much as I did?’.

L replies that he believes he did - well, almost as much as she did - his voice squeaking nervously as he recalls the event. ‘Watching you was truly erotic’, he adds after a further pause. ‘Will you tell me about what happened afterwards with Lars?’

‘Oh, my sweet baby’, she replies, ‘do you really want to hear about it?’ ‘Well, if you insist….’

N places her lips against his ear and whispers. She recounts how excited she felt during the episode with Horacio; how suddenly he made her climax; how it had added energy in the knowledge that she was watched by both L and Lars. She described how she was able to draw on their frustration and desire to intensify her excitement; how it had given her a power - a sense of command over them, in particular over Lars. She told of how Horacio had left her unfulfilled, with a feeling of frustration, wanting and needing more - the more that, as substitute, she proceeded to milk later from Lars.

When N recounted how she had demanded that Lars should take her, what he should do, and the intensity and force with which he should do it, she slipped her fingers from between her legs, across L’s stomach and down to encircle him. She felt his wetness and his growing size. Circling her forefinger against his frenulum she described the events in turn, bringing him each time close to ejaculation, then stopping - and repeating so as to edge him ever closer to his orgasm. As she described Lars’ ejaculation she felt him slip inescapably into his climax. This time she did not deter him. Cupping him, she caught his ejaculate in the palm of her hand, gently squeezing him until it was over.

‘And now, have you enjoyed it as much as I did?’, she asks playfully as she smiles down on him and slides out of bed to grab a tissue.

‘As a special surprise for tonight, Lars has something new planned’, she adds before she walks to the door. ‘Raul will drop off the instructions later. Don’t be late!’

And with that and a smile, she departs, leaving L to wonder what could possibly happen next - that had not already happened?

5.

L has been reading a book and dozing on the terrace as Raul arrives with empanadas, olives and a light Sauvignon. As Raul places the tray on the low table L notices in the corner a sealed envelope bearing his name.

‘Whose the letter from?’, he asks as Raul pulls a cork from the bottle.
‘Miss N left it in the porter’s lodge when she and Mr Lars departed for the Feria de Mataderos’, he replies.

L slits open the envelope with the handle of a spoon and takes out a single sheet of white paper.

‘Dear L,
We have gone out for the day but will be back later. Oly has made arrangements with Raul for supper for one to be served on the terrace at 9pm. Afterwards, please go to your room. Raul’s niece, Eva, will come to you with more instructions. You are to do just as she says. All will be revealed….or maybe not!
Kisses, N

6.

Dear reader
Not since N’s departure for Portugal have I written to you. Aaardvarky suggested now might be an appropriate moment for a direct update from me. After all, it seems from N’s note that I may be centre stage during this episode. So stay and bear with me as I recount my experience as it happens.

I am presently in my room, as instructed. Earlier, Raul served dinner on the terrace, but nervous anticipation (are they the right words?) took away my appetite. It has seemed strange spending the day alone with only an occasional visit from Raul. Beyond my balcony the night sky has darkened across the rooftops over to the Plata. Somewhere from the terrace I can hear a muffled sound of voices, insufficiently clear to tell who, or what they may be discussing. And someone appears to be moving furniture, although not apparent what and why.

There is a knock at the door. Will this be Eva, Raul’s niece? I did not know of her existence before reading N’s note, but Raul is a private person. I call ‘Come in’, and wait. The handle turns, and she enters with youthful energy. She is in her mid thirties, slim but curvaceous, with long dark hair and smiling eyes. She wears a white blouse teamed with a pink skirt.

‘Hello, I’m Eva’, she says by way of introduction. ‘I take it that you read Ms N’s message?’ I reply that I had and was expecting her arrival.

‘Ms N has given me specific instructions’, she continues. ‘She asked me to tell you to do exactly as I say. Are you alright with this?’

To be frank I already feel disempowered to answer or to question, but her smile and the excitement of what will happen next raises my energy. I simply nod in reply. ‘They are waiting on the terrace. We are to join them there’.

Eva escorts me to the rear staircase that leads to the roof. There the scene is transformed from earlier that afternoon. The tubs of Erythrina and Fuchsia have been removed. A bed has been brought from Lars’ studio to beneath the pergola and lit by downlights. Two chairs have been positioned just beyond the pergola, one facing the bed and one backing. The scene resembles a film set.

She leads me to the chair that faces away and taking two pieces of silk ribbon invites me to place each wrist on the chair arm. ‘N said you must wear this’, she continues, handing me a strip of black material. ‘Would you wish me to help you with it?’, she adds, and I agree. Eva circles behind to fasten a blindfold.

7.

‘I am asked to tell you that this is to be a performance in three Acts’, Eva announces. ‘For the 1st Act you will remain blindfolded. My role tonight is to describe everything for you. You will experience the events through my eyes, my sensations, my feelings, and possibly my desires. For the 2nd Act, the blindfold will be removed and you will see for yourself. In the 3rd Act, you will be invited to participate. It will be your choice whether you accept the invitation.’

Eva pauses for a second, and continues, ‘N has crafted this play predominantly for her pleasure seeking, but also for your enjoyment in witnessing it. It is her wedding anniversary gift to you.’

With all that had been happening I had totally forgotten the date. I feel a momentary cold sweat before reminding myself that it is now too late to redress and reciprocate, but that perhaps my participation may be my gift?

Eva takes the seat that has been placed opposite me. I am in darkness. I can hear movement behind me informing that actors have entered the set. Eva pulls her chair towards me - I feel the warmth of her presence. She lays a hand on my leg. She moves forward, her knees enclosing mine. First I can sense the stretched tension of her skirt against my thigh, then I feel the lacy outline of a stocking top.

‘They’re about to start’, she says. ‘Horacio - you know him...the young man at the milonga…he has entered the stage’.

She describes him walking to the bed, and tells me that he is naked. Now she says that Lars has entered with N. She too is blindfolded. Eva describes her dress, how it seems iridescent and shimmers as N moves. It is clearly ‘the dress’, for no other could match her description. She says that Lars is holding N, then turning her back towards him. She details his fingers going to the zip which he pulls slowly to the waist. He is easing the fabric away from her shoulders. She describes the dress dropping to the floor around N’s feet in a circle of radiance. Save for the mask, according to Eva, she is naked. Lars is now leading her to the bed and extends her unseeing hand to touch Horacio.

Eva continues, ‘Now N is kneeling on the bed, she is lifting her leg to straddle Horacio, sliding her body upwards towards his waist. She now finds him, erect and ready for her. She is feeding him greedily between her legs so that he must penetrate her. It looks as if she has been craving this moment, waiting for it since their last encounter. She is now riding him - roughly, with urgency, without pausing, without shame.’

Eva’s hand strays to my thigh, circling gently as if to focus my mind. She takes a deep breath.

‘N is quivering’, she continues, ‘she is shaking - no, she is starting to convulse - N is far too quick for Horacio to follow. Her fingers are searching Horacio’s face, she is tracing the outline that she recalls from the milonga, running her fingers through his thick black hair.’

Eva describes N's orgasm in the minutest of detail, leaving no breath unrecounted. She tells of the build up, the explosion of pleasure, her expression as she tips and continues to climax, the look on Horacio’s face, N’s hands against his shoulders pressing him back against the bed.

Act one has been so sudden, unexpected, dramatic, even brutal. Eva’s descriptions have captured every nuance of it, demonstrating her mounting excitement at what she witnessed. Now complete, her voice catches. Simply watching and recounting the events has quickened her breath. I feel a dampness from between her legs against my knee.

Eva leans in towards me. She tells me that Act 2 is about to commence but that she has been told to release the blindfold, the ties from my wrists, and spin my chair to face the bed. Taking my hands to the buttons of her blouse, my fingers shake as I unbutton from the top. She turns her back and takes a hand to the zip of her skirt. It slides down, dropping to her ankles. I release the clasp of her bra. She guides my fingers to the seams of her briefs to peel them away from between her legs.

I feel an urgent need to possess her; and I had expected that was her intention too - in the master plan that N had prepared. But at this precise moment N releases herself from Horacio, turns to face Eva, then without losing contact with his erection, presses him again deep between her legs. Eva turns away from me, and stepping into and through the dress’ circle of taffeta, she mounts the bed, kneeling across Horacio’s legs, drawing her body towards N, their nipples touching, their breasts pressing; and finally, their lips meeting.

8.

Throughout our marriage her hedonistic drives had amazed me but this moment revealed an unseen dimension. It had never occurred to me that N would seek connection with a woman, but tonight she displayed equal measures of interaction, enthusiasm and response. Her focus had shifted from Horacio to Eva.

Holding him within her, as N moved backwards, Eva followed moving forwards, their bodies sliding in unison. They were sharing him. Together they discovered a rhythm and moved with synchronicity. I could only imagine the searing erotic possibilities of this three-way connection and felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of jealousy. Whilst they clung to each other throughout their ride, at one moment they pressed down to contain him, the next they sheathed him beneath their labias.

It could never last long. With their bodies still conjoined at vulvas and breasts and their lips sealed in a deep kiss, they climaxed suddenly and simultaneously. Horacio had provided the essential vaginal and clitoral stimulation, but it was their connection together that had driven them into the overwhelming, simultaneous climax that rolled, continued, persisted, and just when it appeared to be waning, gathered a further momentum, linked to shrieks and groans of joy and spasms of pleasure. Inevitably, Horacio ejaculated, seemingly copiously. It was impossible to tell exactly when; or which of them was his recipient - perhaps both as they rocked, sharing his erection, pressing themselves together to intensify their pleasure.

The scene was hypnotising. It drove deep into my consciousness, executing both denial and exclusion, reminding me why I had been chosen to witness it.

Gradually, like a clockwork toy unwinding, the three came to rest with their last judders - then, save for their breathing, followed a stillness. The overhead lights dimmed. Slowly Eva and Horacio withdrew, leaving N alone and triumphant on the bed, concluding Act 2.

9.

What was it that Eva had said about Act 3?...I would be invited to participate and that it would be my choice as to whether I accept the invitation?

Like you are doing, I rack my brain, searching for the possibilities. One thing that I understand from the way the question is posed is that my choice may turn out to be life-altering. Am I ready for this? Has my passive role hitherto lulled me into a false sense of safety?

Ahead of me the lights stay dimmed. N crawls to the foot of the bed and beckons me towards her. It takes me a second to process her request. I stand, stepping away from the chair that has entombed me, and cross to the pergola. She smiles. I recognise her mischievous expression that precedes the unanticipated.

‘Happy anniversary, darling’, she says as she seizes my hand, pulls me onto the bed against the damp sheet, straddles my chest, and slides my shirt and shorts away from my body. Taking me in her arms, she lowers herself across me. I can feel the weight of her slim body, then the heat of her breasts and the musky scent of her torso. It produces sensual overload as to mind and body. But more than this, it brings an unexpected sense of relief after protracted exclusion. Now, it is just N and me as she slides down to take me inside her.

I had not thought (or expected) how it would feel - the softness, the wetness, the slipperiness, an intense intimacy. Whilst I had been required to watch her earlier pleasures with Horacio and Eva, it feels as if she now shares them with me. My pleasure emanates not of consolation, but of assimilation.

Making love, there are occasions when time appears to move into slow motion, and this is one of those times. Moving together we embark on a journey, taken slowly, easily, without imperative, without the need to reach any particular destination at any special moment. Our bodies suffuse as N sets a rhythm and invites a pace.

There comes a moment when she begins to flag. She lifts her breasts from my chest and placing both hands on my shoulders, levers herself into a semi-upright position whilst still maintaining our connection. Lars enters from the shadows. Without a word he moves to kneel behind her, and placing his hands on her hips, he picks up her faltering pace, lifting her so just enough to retain my presence inside her.

You might be forgiven for thinking that his intervention may seem disrespectful or disruptive, but his actions are performed so discreetly in such a way as not to distract, but to increase N’s dimensions of pleasure and focus. His energy provides intensity to our coupling. He is present, involved, facilitating and sustaining - yet not the recipient.

Eventually when we reach a point when our climax is tangible and imminent, unexpectedly N tips forward, pulling and maintaining me within her whilst repositioning her hips, and purposefully presses backwards and downwards against Lars to capture his erection between the lips of her labia. She corkscrews against him so he cannot escape. With incremental movement she eases him into her vagina. I sense his entry, and then feel his size as he stretches her. With his thrusts, her pressure, or both, he gradually pushes past me, deeper and beyond towards her cervix.

With us both inside her, N’s focus shifts again. Her hands leave my chest and reach behind her to hold his thighs, gripping as if to urge him on, further, deeper, to stretch and fill her. It is just a matter of seconds before she starts to climax, this time in searing, unstoppable waves that consume her body from her toes upwards to her cheeks. The rush is so great that our orgasms seem simultaneous. I feel Lars stiffen behind me, I follow immediately and seem to fall into an intense delirium. It is as if three energies have combined to explode in a way never before experienced.

Over, we are now lying side by side, staring up through the pergola at the stars. Our rapid breaths have subsided to silence. The dress lays where it was dropped, now encircled by a pool of moonlight. N casually rests a hand across my lower stomach, as she does likewise with Lars. It seems that Act 3 is concluded, but none of the players are ready to leave.


10.
Before this story, N had led two lives that barely touched each other. She had her married life with her husband L in London. But lacking the dimension of excitement that she craved, she maintained a relationship with Lars, the lover from her youth. And thus the thrill of both relationships was refreshed.
L had always understood that N needed Lars. He did not resist, he assimilated the idea on the understanding that the infrequency of their meeting did not impinge. It was Lars’ visit to London that changed the chemistry. N introduced Lars into their London life, and this was a step that changed their destiny.
Perhaps L’s disposition had always been evident and simply called for acknowledgment and exploration? Or maybe, with the passing of the years, L’s needs, desires and propensities had changed? Whatever the reason or mechanism, L embraced N’s visit to stay with L in Norway; and for their trip to Portugal, had devoured the opportunity to revisit those feelings that had so inflamed him.
Buenos Aires brought a new possibility. This was another transition, now not as an outside observer, but to live with N and Lars, included as part of their day-to-day reality, but excluded and denied in their headiest of moments. However, Act 3 of the anniversary play created a dynamic change. In an instant L became a part of their intimacies. He was to experience their energy and intimacy directly as his experience. For a brief moment he had been a part of them. Could he ever let this go?
Do not underestimate the effect of this change. Like a drug, the body craves a repeat surge of the neurotransmitter, dopamine. And here, for L is the dichotomy. Whilst needing to feel denial, has he now become addicted to his new experience of inclusion?


11.

Guest post from N

Aaardvarky has asked me to write to you again, informing me you had enjoyed my last contribution and it was high time I made a further appearance on this page.

I realise that you may be asking where things are leading with Lars and L? It is so difficult to answer that question, for like you, I just do not know. As three individuals whose orbits intercept, we seem to continuously reinvent ourselves whilst managing to meet our individual needs. Perhaps this is exactly as it should be, rather than working to a social formula, a pattern or other people’s expectations? What is your view on this?

I recognise that at times I do appear to be focused on my own pleasure, and not my partners’ needs, but I hope this is not the case. I have to consider what L and Lars seek for our relationships to continue to succeed. We stay united out of desire and not duty. Understanding L and his triggers is key to each and every decision I make. That isn’t to say that sometimes I get it wrong, but it is mostly what he would have chosen for himself. And for me taking this initiative deprives L of the choices, an aspect which he relishes.

Lars’ needs are much easier to meet. He loves both me and his independence in equal measures, so our part-time relationship appears to work perfectly for him. It is a bonus that he respects my marriage and the person I am married to. My two men retain a distance from each other, but a visceral connection through me. In this way we seem to support each other’s desires.

Our latest adventure tells me that denying L and including him are indeed two sides of the same coin - it’s just a question of how it is flipped! Perhaps the excitement is not in making a choice, but in avoiding the predicted?

12.

‘L leans towards N and again their lips meet. The prospect of a trip to Argentina appears to have reinvigorated him. He smiles darkly, desiring to take her again. In his mind he pictures a bohemian barrio, N walking hand-in-hand with Lars, sunshine catching her hair and himself waiting for them at a cafe.‘

Much has happened since our travellers left London for the summer brightness of Buenos Aires. Despite the novelty of living together, they have navigated a route to make coexistence work - to fulfil each other, and to be fulfilled.

There is a clatter from the lift and the sound of voices as N arrives from a trip to La Boca, Horacio in tow.

‘Hey you two, look what Hori and I have found on our way here.’

L and Lars, who have been sunning on the terrace loungers, look up. Lars lifts his sunglasses, and L drops yesterday’s copy of The Times on the decking.

‘Come over here - you’ll love it’, she continues, as Horacio moves N’s shopping bags into the shade and returns to spread a large sheet of paper on a coffee table. N smoothes down the paper, catching the back of his hand with her fingernails.

The paper is, in fact, a plan. In direct sunlight its content appears as faint lines and scribbled words. Lars pulls the table beneath the gazebo and the picture now becomes clear. On the left is drawn the ground floor, room by room, and to the right are two further floors with open verandas leading to a roof terrace.

‘What is this?’, asks Lars, pushing his shades into his hair. ‘It’s our new house’, N announces, tracing a finger over the outline.

During our absence our characters have spent their time between the terrace, the pool, the cafe, milonga, the restaurant and the little all-night clubs that hide within the barrio. So seductive have L, N and Lars found the city that they have been counting the days, regretting the prospect of departure.

‘It’s exactly what we need - the space; and look at the roof garden and pool.’ ‘Horacio and I have been discussing it - we think it’s perfect.’

‘And how so?’, asks Lars.
‘Well, we sell up in London, and Buenos Aires becomes our oyster’, N continues.

L rings for Raul only to find that he has left for the market; but moments later we hear the chink of glasses as his niece Eva arrives carrying a tray. As she bends she glances towards Horacio, and blushes. Horacio smiles in recognition.

‘This house has amazing potential - look, we can each have our own space and we can all share the roof’, she enthuses. ‘And Hori has booked our viewing for tomorrow!’


13.

L and Lars return to their loungers. Horacio takes one of the armchairs on the decking, and N sits casually in his lap, swinging her feet. Eva is about to leave when Lars suggests that she should pour another glass of Martini and stay. She does as instructed and perches uncomfortably on the edge of the table facing Lars, her legs by necessity parted.

They all speak about the house, it seems in positive terms. L reveals that he was planning to sell the partnership anyway, and Lars announces that he too is ready for a change.

‘And if we are quick, we can poach Raul to keep house for us’ continues N, with a sidelong glance towards Eva.

Unless you were particularly astute (perhaps observing from the sidelines) your eye would not have caught N’s. She glances up at Horacio, smiles and appears to smooth her skirt. However, had you been sitting at the far side of the terrace you would have noticed a ruck of silk appear behind her, and within a second or two Horacio’s hidden hand sliding momentarily between them whilst N moves her hips to one side, and back.

Conversation suffuses; a fortunate shadow is cast across their armchair throwing N’s expression into partial relief. But from our vantage point we know what is happening. It is gradual. Although others cannot discern it, we notice the slightest quickening of her breath that gives away their secret. N rests her hands in front of her and for a microsecond bites her lip. Then transpires the most silent orgasm that has ever been, at the point of virtual invisibility to all others present….save for Eva, whose female instinct has caught the tiniest changes in N’s complexion. It lasts just for moments. We do not know if Horacio ejaculated. We simply see N turn towards him and run her fingers appreciatively through his dark hair.

Eva crosses her legs and glances towards Lars, whilst his eyes move from the dark triangle to the pale reveal of her upper thigh.


14.

Eva’s eyes follow those of Lars. It is clear that she is enjoying being watched by him. She swivels her buttocks on the table edge, just enough that her skirt creeps up a few centimetres, so as to observe his reaction, calculating his thoughts.

This event is not lost on N. She rises suddenly, strokes Horacio’s cheek and passes her now empty glass to Eva.

‘Better get these back to the kitchen, Eva - we’ve an early start tomorrow’, adding impatiently as if to take charge, ‘Come along Lars, an early night is called for’.

With that, N collects her bags from where Horacio left them and walks briskly towards the studio at the far end of the terrace. Horacio rises and heads for the back stairs, whilst L retrieves his newspaper and sets off for the lift. Momentarily Lars and Eva are alone on the terrace. Lars approaches her from behind and carefully takes the tray from her hands.

You, the silent observer, may be able to tell me whether she turns to face him, or he turns her in his arms. Perhaps it matters not, for the outcome is the same. Before the hem of her skirt settles, Lars slides his hand between her legs. She lowers her bottom to the table top, lifting her knees and wraps her legs around him. Their lips meet. His hands move upwards, limited only by the tightness of her clothing.

Their long kiss is interrupted by N’s call, ‘Are you coming, darling?’, serving to break their tryst. As their lips separate we see a fire in Eva’s eyes, a look of longing, of possession, of jealousy. She reluctantly releases her hold on him, turns to collect the tray, and heads back to the lower floor, whilst Lars responds to N’s command and walks slowly to join her.

15.

L reaches his room and strolls out onto the balcony to reflect on what has transpired that evening. The edge of the city spreads before him with lights twinkling as far as the Plata, where darkness ensues. Of course N’s announcement about buying a South American house had not come as a surprise to him. Away from the pressures of work, and seeing how relaxed N was with her new-found freedom, it all made sense. He noted too that here in Buenos Aires he was surrounded by beautiful people, including his wife, who devised increasingly varied ways to meet both their needs and his.

It is at this moment that he hears a knock on the door. He knows that it will not be N, for she has gone to Lars’ studio. May it possibly be Eva? His heart quickens, thinking back to the end of Act 1 of the play and her demand to him to undress her. Instantly he remembers the sensation of the zip of her skirt between his fingers, the lace of her briefs as he peels them away from her thighs, the musky scent of her body, and the dampness between her legs. ‘Come in’, he calls, and the door opens.

Standing in the doorway, however, is not Eva, but Horacio.

‘I came to see if there is anything I can get you?’, he says with a respectful smile crossing his chiselled features. For a second L just stands and stares.

Without further words exchanged, Horacio enters and crosses to join him on the balcony. Standing alongside L, the two men now lean on the rail looking out to distant lines of traffic passing along Av Costanera Rafael Obligado. They remain in silence, but not of awkwardness or difficulty. In fact, no words are needed - just the moment, and the faint sound of tango from a distant rooftop.

16.

Raul brings breakfast to the terrace early. Here we find Lars checking out a pair of binoculars (presumably to inspect the side elevations of the house they are to view) and N smooth-brushing her hair, tiny strands of which are floating away on a light morning breeze. L arrives shaved, but looking tired. Eva, who has overnighted in her uncle’s quarters, is helping him with the coffee.

A voice sounds on the intercom. It is Horacio. He has found a taxi. Lars grabs a medialuna, N sips the last of her orange juice, and L holds open the roof door as our team processes towards the lift, leaving Eva behind to assist Raul.

Their radio cab heads out along Av del Libertador, passing their favourite cafe, La Biela, into Av Alvear and out along the impossibly wide Av 9 de Julio towards Av San Juan. San Telmo is one of the older barrios, the bohemian beating heart of Buenos Aires with its street markets and hidden tango clubs. It could not be more different from leafy, bourgeois Palermo.

The taxi stops outside an imposing turn-of-the-century frontage rising three stories, with balconies right along the second elevation. The street door leads directly to an ornate marble and wrought iron staircase that curves around a vintage lattice lift. At each level, light flooded balconies lead alongside the living quarters, at the end of which the servants’ staircase returns to the ground floor.

The proportions of the rooms are magnificent, with high ceilings, mirrors, chandeliers, revolving fans, and polished block floors adding a sophisticated coolness. Antique furniture completes a period style.

As they reach the roof, their breath is taken away. This is not so much a roof as a garden in bloom with trees, shrubs and flowers. At the far end is an oval shaped, top-shaded pool. Whilst the selling agent mops his brow, our team gathers by the cool walls of a roof-top villa to discuss their find.

‘We just have to do it, we won’t find anything like it again’, announces N, to which L instantly agrees.
‘It’s perfect….and goodbye to cold Norwegian winters’, says Lars with a nod and a smile as he surveys the rooftops through his binoculars. ‘Horacio, pass me the papers if you would be so kind’, he continues as he checks the plan against the detail.

It appears that the main members of our cast have made a decision that promises to be life-changing. Some might say that their agreement was impulsive, and they may be right, except that Buenos Aires seems to withstand the most challenging of observations or expectations. One can see why the early immigrants were drawn to the city, and having arrived, stayed.

Since inspecting the house they have returned to the apartment in Palermo. It is now that L calls down to the kitchen to speak with Raul.

‘It’s decided, and the deposit has been transferred, so bar an earthquake, it’s a done deal’, says L. ‘The question is, might you leave your job here and come with us?’ ‘Of course, Eva can come too for we will have need of her services’, he adds ambiguously, but a possibly deciding factor for the elderly retainer.


17.

The party
Those that live in Britain will have disparate ideas about the word ‘party’ - thinking of an ‘after work cheese and wine gathering’, or a ‘bottle of beer and a pie’, depending on political inclinations. But our team of characters has something quite different in mind. To celebrate their departure from Palermo and move to San Telmo they are to host a masked ball.

Their social grouping comprises mainly milongueros, the Portenos with whom they have danced, chatted at the milongas and shared much champagne. They represent all ages and classes, these differences being irrelevant to tango. In any event, anonymity will be assured by their elaborate masks.

Throughout the afternoon workmen have laid a dance floor, and carried tables and chairs to the terrace. Entering from the lift we see Raul’s well stocked bar. Outside Lars’ studio Eva is giving the waitresses their last minute instructions. Downstairs Eva’s brother-in-law, Fabio has arrived to act as doorman, a stash of Quilmes (beer) secreted for him by Raul in the porter’s lodge.

L has already changed into evening wear and sits on the end of their bed waiting for N to exit the bathroom. When she enters the room she is wearing the dress. For a brief moment she pauses and slowly pirouettes, causing iridescent taffeta to flare away from her legs. Then she heads towards L, and on reaching him, turns her back for him to lift the zip. Completed, she turns back and steps one leg between his two.

‘How do I look?’, she asks with that teasing expression that signals she already knows his answer.
‘You look divine as ever, darling’, he replies.

She lifts his free hand and places it beneath the hem, sliding it slowly up the outside of her leg until his fingers reach an invisible stocking top and suspender buttons.

‘And how do I feel?’, she adds. Without waiting for his reply, she turns again, playfully performs another more revealing pirouette and heads to her dressing table to don her mask.

Lars is one of the early birds to the party. He also sports evening wear, figure hugging with a modern look. He is already dancing with one of the older milongueras to the music of a small orchestra. She hangs onto his manly frame, knowing that this tanda with her masked partner will be the highlight of her evening.

Across by the bar, speaking with Raul, stands Horacio. His work suit is neatly pressed, his shirt crisp and polished shoes that N has bought him glinting under a string of lights that adorn the terrace. He moves to one side, into partial shadow that adds mystery to his handsome youthfulness.

N and L, arm in arm, make a grand entrance to a ripple of applause. It is reminiscent of the arrival of bride and bridegroom, or perhaps their distinguished parents? N looks radiant in the dress but quickly breaks away to chat to a huddle of women that she recognises from Salon Canning.

Last of our group appears Eva. She must have come unseen via the back staircase but has changed from her afternoon shift into a sparkling dress, tight-fitted around her curves, with low decolletage and a side slit to the hip. It is not only the men that are distracted from their conversations, but the women also look up, some critically but most admiringly. The orchestra strikes up again as a masked Eva dissolves into the throng.

Like a game of chess, our players are now in position: they simply await the hand of destiny to move them towards conquests or defeats.

18.

For Argentine tango a mask is an irrelevance. The dancers do not inspect each other whilst dancing, or even before they dance, save as to discern their capacity and skill. On the pista, heads touch, the follower’s eyes close and the leader uses his senses to navigate safely whilst delivering movement to the music.

But in the art of seduction, the mask may play a vital part, for as we already know, concealment can be an aphrodisiac, intensifying pleasure with mystery. That which is partially hidden is the subject of greatest curiosity.

Masks also remove the inhibition of identity. Both success and failure are more easily managed under a veil of disguise. The game is accentuated. The stakes are higher. The risks of play increase. Moreover, arrival and departure may be effected more quickly and with less chance of detection.

And so our ball proceeds. There are those that sit at tables waiting for the cabeceo or mirada, others who dine volubly with laughter and wine; and there are others who inhabit the shadows away from the lights and the pista. They seek the tryste, passing like ships in the night until they encounter what they desire.

It is thus that Lars and Eva collide, an accidental encounter away from the crowded floor. Lars recognises her by the gleam of her exposed thigh, she recognises Lars by his scent. Before this they were not hunting, but as they pass they feel the chase. It happens in an instant. Lars seizes her wrist and spins her towards him. She moves, not merely against him, but seemingly into him, her masked face turned up towards his. They cannot kiss, but he feels her breasts pressed against his chest. She lifts her right leg to wrap his hip. He feels the firmness of her pubic bone against him. He knows that, with pressure, he can reach her clitoris, and she knows from his size that their point of contact is optimal.

Save for his hand on her wrist and her fingers at the nape of his neck, they do not attempt to touch, their stimulation being by topical pressure. It mounts with a suddenness, perhaps at the risk of discovery. Under the supremacy of her skill it is not long before Lars explodes, ejaculating in unstoppable spasms and jets. Although she can neither see nor feel this, she knows with the clarity of intimacy and a ripple of pleasure radiates through her body, intensified by the fact that it was stolen and unwitnessed.

She does not stay, knowing that Lars has now a new task to attend to, but slips away and is lost in the darkness.

Meanwhile, L watches his wife as she dances with Horacio who she has plucked from the shadows. There is a whisper of gossip from the milongueras as they observe a third tanda together, wondering about the identity of the masked tanguero, noting her persistence and his attentive responses. They cannot stop themselves from glancing over to the table where L sits alone.

19.

It is now much later. A faint light marks the arrival of dawn. Masks have long since been discarded, the orchestra has left the pergola, and music is now provided from the gramophone which Fabio winds after each song. Empty glasses litter the tables alongside the pista and the few remaining couples that are left dance slowly in close embrace.

L remains alone at his table. Across the floor N still dances with Horacio, her fingers at the nape of his neck, and nearby, Lars holds Eva protectively close as they move around the floor. The scene is soft and unhurried as the final tanda comes to an end.

The couples that remain release their embrace to give a quiet ripple of applause for Fabio’s efforts as he collects piles of old 78 rpm records and places them in paper sleeves. For the first time, N looks over to Lars and he returns her glance. As if signalled, they walk towards each other to speak.

L cannot tell what is said or by whom, but it is clear that a deal has been struck. As the final guests depart and Fabio carries his boxes to the back staircase, Lars accosts Horacio and the two men walk off in the direction of Lars’ studio. Moments later they reappear, dragging with them the bed.

Nothing about the arrangement is clear until N leads Horacio by the arm to one side of the bed and guides his hands to her back. L watches as Horacio releases her from the dress. It shimmers down from her body revealing the suspender belt and stockings that L had touched but not hitherto seen. Lifting one foot to the edge of the bed she has Horacio unclip the buttons and peel away each stocking in turn. She removes his shirt, unfastens his belt, then pulls him across her as she falls backwards onto the bed. Once there, she turns him over and mounts him.

At the other side of the bed, Eva reaches backwards to unzip her dress letting it drop gently to the floor. Beneath she is already naked. She stands before Lars like a prize as he strips. Sitting now on the far side of the bed, she lays back, opening her legs in readiness for him to take her.

Copulation between the couples appears almost simultaneous. Horacio pushes upwards beneath N, whilst Eva secures Lars between her legs. L watches N and Lars rise and fall in unison, appearing to find a common rhythm. Sex with their respective partners is unhurried, perhaps due to the lateness of the hour, or maybe that they are seeking a novel kind of connection, one more synchronised, tuned and stimulated by the other’s presence.

L observes with fascination as Eva, copying N, turns Lars so as to ride him. Now L sees both women from behind as they pursue their pleasures, N with a determination that pushes Horacio to his limits; and Eva gently milking Lars of his remaining reserves of semen. After several minutes Eva begins to climax. It starts with her whimper, then her voice grows in volume and determination. This triggers N to come as she pulls Horacio’s hair, and pushes forcefully down on Horacio, aiming to embed him more deeply within her. The orgasms for both women happen at the same time, their matched pace replaced by syncopated sharp convulsions and exhalations. With their ecstasy both Lars and Horacio are forced into ejaculation, resulting in a scene of erotic devastation.

Meanwhile L, still sitting alone, feels himself leaking, followed by the gently relieving pulse of his own unassisted release, and a dark telling circle spreads across from his groin to his abdomen.

20.

Mid-morning and no longer four in a bed, Eva lies sleeping across Lars’ body, whilst N has taken Horacio off to her room to exercise him further. Meanwhile, unable to sleep and having changed from damp clothes, L sits out on the decking to watch the sunrise.

Raul arrives from the downstairs bakery with morning coffee and medialunas. He glances over, surprised to see the bed, but more astonished to see his niece Eva spread across it. However, his discrete professionalism takes over and showing no consternation, delivers yesterday’s Times into L’s outstretched hand.

Later N ascends to the terrace with Horacio just behind her. He looks worn out, whilst like a predator with her kill, she brims with unspent energy. They remain for a few minutes before she returns him to her room, from which they are not to emerge until late afternoon.

Eva awakes to look around her, gathering her bearings. She looks over at Lars where, with knees pulled up beneath the sheet, he reads a book. She smiles a smile of satisfaction, informing him that he has performed well. He grins back, appreciative of her silent compliment.

L is not too concerned. He views himself as a retired jockey watching as the young apprentices ride their fillies in their first six furlong race. Whilst he would wish to have been in their place, he realises that his competitive equestrian years are behind him, and indeed were he to ride, he would have missed the excitement of watching them.

However, he does wonder how N will respond once she has exhausted her young stud and seeks to return under Lars’ bridle. He knows that N’s needs will swing from dominant to submissive, and for that role she will demand Lars’ return to her stable. Will Lars give up willingly or might Eva’s soft, curvaceous accommodation prove difficult to surrender? He reflects for a moment on whether he could have a role in this facilitation? He recalls Eva’s scent, the softness of her young hands, the feelings as he undressed her. He looks over towards her. She notices and smiles back at him with innocence.

21.

L’s partners were pleased to buy out his practice shares, and their London home sold within a week; so for L and N the die is cast - their strings to the UK held only by their ownership of a tiny cottage in Sussex.

The move to San Telmo occurred swiftly, without incident thanks to the efforts of Eva as translator and Horacio as handyman. In buying the house, L had insisted that the contents remain. And predictably, Raul agreed to join them in the hope that his niece Eva will in time succeed him as house manager.

Each of our main players has their own suites, those of L and N with interconnection doors cover the second floor, whilst Lars is to occupy the rooftop villa. The floor immediately below that of L and N comprises the house dining room, library and ballroom.

Servant’s quarters are on two floors - Raul’s comfortable apartment is situated on the ground floor adjacent to the kitchens and stores, and gives out onto a private garden. Two rooms at the front of the house are reserved for Horacio with stairs leading to the basement garage into which L has shipped his maroon and cream vintage Bentley S2 Continental. Finally, on the mezzanine floor, a lightsome apartment appears to offer Eva everything she could have dreamed or imagined - privacy and independence. Or does it? We should remember that the back staircase, leading to every floor in the house, passes right by her door!

22.

Our players are now in residence. Raul has experienced a new lease of life, the change in pace and drama having revitalised him. His palatial rooms on the ground floor are in stark contrast to his previous dark basement quarters in Palermo. After serving breakfast he is to be found in his garden, watering his plants, or resting in the shade. And as he says, having his niece Eva but half a flight of stairs away is of great comfort.

Readers have asked about the vintage Bentley S2. Bought as an investment, the Continental remained under dust sheets for a number of years as L had no use for it in London. Of the two options, unable to contemplate selling, he had it delivered to Tilbury from whence it was shipped by container to Buenos Aires BACTSSA. However, there is a problem. L had expected that Horacio could fulfil the role of driver, yet it seems he has still to pass his test.

This morning L is to be found downstairs with Raul in the shade of a Jacaranda drinking lemonade. In addition to discussions about the city and the house, they are chatting about life, love and the universe. Just then Eva appears.

‘What are you two up to?’ she asks whilst patting Raul on the arm, ‘Oh isn’t this garden gorgeous!’ she continues and glances across as an emerald hummingbird hovers at a Lobelia.

‘We were discussing what to do about L’s beautiful old car’, Raul replies, ‘It seems he cannot drive it here, and neither can I’.
‘I can, I will, I love cars’, she gushes without pausing for breath, ‘may I see it?’

With that, Eva assists Raul from his chair and the three head down the back stairs to the garage. L pulls away the dust sheet and beneath is the gleaming convertible. L runs his hands over the hood and wipes a smear from the door handle.

‘We really need someone to maintain it, as well as drive it - cleaning and servicing - and available for those late nights after tango. N could never have you tied up with that. It is too much to manage in addition to the house’.

‘Well what about your old friend who used to drive for the Defence Minister, wouldn’t he be perfect?’ ‘He's reliable and knows all about cars’.

Raul smiles. ‘Indeed he would’, I shall call on him this afternoon if you wish, and see what he says’.

23.

It hasn’t been the same since his friend Raul left for San Telmo. Together they used to go to the races at Palermo’s Hipodramo where they would lose a couple of hundred pesos on the wrong horse, and afterwards put the world’s wrongs to rights over a bottle of Malbec.

‘You need a job, Amado’ declares Raul with a grin, ‘you are just vegetating here, getting old before your time’. ‘In fact you make me feel old just looking at you’.
Amado’s mouth curves down. ‘Fat chance at my age’, he replies.
‘Well there you may be wrong’, Raul continues, ‘but you might have to give up this dump and come to San Telmo as my neighbour. Interested?’

For the first time that afternoon Amando looks less than miserable. He has one of those faces that makes quick transitions. Now he smiles, ‘What as - your butler?’, he replies with a guffaw.

‘Well actually, sort off’, continues Raul teasingly, ‘Not my butler, but my chauffeur’.
‘You don’t even have a car’, retorts Amado. ‘But I know someone who does, and he is in need of a live-in driver’.

Amando rises from his chair and downs the dregs of his coffee.
‘What’s keeping us?, he says, ‘ Let’s go - and you can show me this car!’

With that, the two men board colectivo 93 heading down Santa Fe in the direction of San Telmo.


24.

L predicted correctly that N’s obsession with Horacio would eventually grind to an end. Switching from Lars to Horacio, N had kept her young stud at her side (when not directly above or beneath her). It is hard to imagine that there will remain any interaction or position that they have not explored at least once. Horacio is now looking exhausted, without his youth would have been hospitalised, drawing comment about gender differences in sexual capacity.

However, what Horacio does not provide for is N’s cyclical needs, coincident with the switch in oestrogen and testosterone levels that occurs before ovulation. Her level of sexual arousal remains as high as previously, but her sexual tastes are changing. She seeks Lars’ strength, his endurance and, if L is correct, Lars’ masterful dominance.

Here, of course, is a problem, one that L anticipated: Lars is currently ‘taken’. When they meet on the stairs, Eva’s head lowers coquettishly to avoid eye contact, but Lars’ longing look will follow her disappearing legs. Since the ball and its aftermath Eva has been seen arriving nightly at his rooftop villa and leaving before dawn. Its walls are too substantial to hear what transpires, but listening below the window one might have heard a series of gasps and sighs, followed by a deeper groan.

She knows better than to tackle Lars, or to demand of Eva that she should desist. But predictably she has a plan, one so charged with feminine intuition and guile that it could hardly fail.

25.

This is one of those rare occasions that N has foregone her afternoon session of passion with Horacio. Shunning the idea of eating on the terrace, she has arranged for Raul to serve for her and L a private dinner-for-two in their rooms. ‘Let’s dress for dinner tonight’, she says, ‘and I propose to wear the dress’.

A knock at the door and Raul enters with oysters from pescaderia El Delfin and chilled Uco Valley Chandon Brut. He smiles at seeing them together at last, fussing to polish a stray fingermark from a glass before retiring discretely from the room.

‘I know how you like celebrations, darling, and I want to thank you for agreeing to the move’, N says as they finish their last oyster. ‘Nothing public like the party, and nothing showy like the play - something more private and intimate. What do you think?’

N does not really wait for his reply but slides the small table to one side and sits facing him across his lap, spreading the voluminous underskirts of her dress over his legs. ‘Would you like it if I devised something thrilling for you, darling?’ she continues, watching his face for signs of pleasure.

Of course he agrees, simply and without question, at which N lowers her mouth to his to kiss gently, and feeling his growing, swelling passion beneath her, more firmly, her tongue finding its place against the inside of his cheek, her breath still salty, burning his lips. It is a connection that they hold for what seems like minutes before they break away to breathe. ‘Well, that’s sorted then. I shall organise it straight away’, she says playfully as she gathers up the taffeta of the dress, rises from his lap and leaves for the back stairs.

26.

Eva is in her room when she hears a voice outside her door calling her name. She opens to find N wearing her ball gown, looking both flushed and excited.

‘Come in’, she says, and for the first time since Eva moved in, N enters her apartment. Her first impression is one of space and colour, a large drawing room leading to a private veranda that overlooks Raul’s garden. To one side is her ensuite bedroom, clothed in gentle light from above. Behind slatted doors is her tiny kitchen area.

‘This is so charming!’ says N, to which Eva replies, ‘I’m glad you like it. Did you know, I have never had my own place, let alone somewhere so special’.

The two women sit and chat when N says, ‘L and I have been discussing our move here, and I want to arrange a special thankyou just for him by way of a surprise. Will you help me with it?’

With afterthought Eva realises she should have inquired more, for example by asking ‘ ‘what do you have in mind?...or ’what would you like me to do?’ We have got to know N well and together understand her mastery, but Eve is insufficiently intuitive to read the runes. Instead she simply agrees, both out of duty and gratitude. By the time that N has explained her role, it is too late for her to say no whether she wanted to or not.

27.

Several days have passed, mornings and afternoons that have been busy with comings and goings. N suggested that Horacio and Lars should assist Amando with his move into the porter’s lodge. First came the job of clearing the rubbish, scrubbing the floors and walls, then the arrival of a van from which they unloaded his bed and the few pieces of furniture he owned. Late afternoon, N arranged for a small bouquet of lilies to be delivered, their reassuring scent concealing the smell of fresh paint.

In reality these household tasks have kept both Lars and Horacio busy, each evening as tonight seeing them retire to the terrace garden exhausted and ready for a Quilmes, certainly unready for sex.

The activity has distracted both men. More importantly it has had the effect of breaking Eva’s nightly trieste with Lars, for her time has been subsumed helping with L’s surprise. And, although L does not know it, tonight is the night they have chosen for it.

With the interconnecting doors firmly closed, N and Eva are busy in N’s rooms. In her drawing room a table has been laid, sufficiently large to accommodate three diners, but sufficiently small to permit the touching of knees beneath it. Lilies, those from which Amando’s have been extracted, adorn the window alcove. Beyond in her sleeping quarters, her bed has been dressed with coloured ribbons and lights. Just off her bedroom hang two dresses: the tight-fitted sparkling dress that Eva wore to the ball, and N’s dress, more astonishingly iridescent than ever lit by the down lights of her dressing room.

Finally, N has had Raul haul the old gramophone to her room, set to one side with a selection of recordings by Pedro Laurenz, romantically drifty, seductive golden age tango.

28.

As Horacio and Lars are absent with their tasks, L is about to suggest that they should dine out alone when N interrupts him, telling him to get changed for she has something else planned. As ever, L does as he is bidden.

On his return her door is opened by Eva. She wears the dress we remember from the ball, one with low revealing decolletage and featuring a deep slit teasingly to the hip. A lily dresses her hair. Beyond her we see N. She looks radiant in ‘the dress’, frothing, glittering and shimmering as if alive as she moves.

Eva leads him by the hand to an armchair whilst N starts the gramophone. The steel needle scratches out ‘Milonga de mis amores’. The women come together on the block floor to dance, their breasts now touching, their legs intertwined with ganchos and sacadas. Both their energy and their beauty transfix L and hold his gaze. They dance to one song, then another, and finally they both fetch him to dance with them.

He senses an ever closer hold. He feels the warmth of their bodies, the dampness where their bodies have contact with him and with each other, a flirtatious softness in the way in which they respond. Witnessing, is like watching an old movie, yet one that is impossibly spiced with erotic lamination. It is three way seduction, three bodies searching out with their erotic tentacles, inviting, touching, feeling, reacting, encouraging, accepting. Time has no place or meaning. Emotion is in the moment rather than the past or the future. The frisson mounts as the three become equal in their desire, none with ascendancy over the other, accommodating, including. It is as if their bodies, with one pulse, were about to fuse and consume each other.

Later, N holds his hand. Eva stands before the bed. Eva’s hand moves slowly to unzip the back of her dress. It drops. She remains naked before him. Her hair cascades to her curves. N releases her hold sending L forward into her warm comforting presence. Eva undresses him slowly and carefully, each button and zip representing another milestone of seduction. When naked she takes him with her to the bed, resting beneath him, and eases him into her responsive flesh. With ribbons fluttering and lights twinkling above he succumbs to her invitation, to be taken on an easy gradual journey towards ecstasy and beyond.

When L climaxes he feels absorbed by her presence and comforted by her responses. There was no pressure and there is no rush - just a sense of unity with the universe. There seems no place for talk, appreciation or compliment. Just the quietness of a transient place, one fulfilling differing needs, the identity of which remains to be revealed.

29.

Can you hear the sound of high heels on the marble staircase? N ascends, apparently on a mission, still wearing the dress, but her hair now released from its pins and flowing behind her. Her destination - Lars’ villa on the roof.

He hears her knock and she enters breathless. The dress carries with it a surge of night air and energy. Her body bears the moist musky scent from her dances with Eva and L. Lars inspects her across his reading glasses.

It does not take N long to inform Lars of Eva’s destiny. She speaks of it as an inevitability waiting to happen, and seeks to reassure Lars that Eva’s choice does not mean that he should view himself as a lesser man, but one liberated from her spell. She comforts him. He feels the crinoline of her dress pressing against him. He recalls their many moments of rapture when she had worn it with him. He pictures her moment in Portugal with Rodrigo and craves to replicate it. Sensing her fecundity, he wishes to take her without delay. Knowing his distraction she is intent on taking him without further explanation.

As performed earlier with L, she straddles him, but this time, naked beneath the dress ensures that he must enter her. Before he realises his fate, he finds himself enveloped within her, gripped and possessed. She pulls his hands to her breasts and forces herself down as if to devour him. It was inevitable that they would both climax - Lars, unprepared by the sudden paroxysm of their coupling, N in triumph, recovering her trophy.

30.

Raul has invited Amado to drink Mate in his garden and to mull over old times. Before long Eva calls from her veranda, then descends to join them. Raul sees that she looks pensive. ‘Do you have a problem, Eva?’, he asks.

Triggered by his moment of tenderness Eva spills out the story of what transpired with N and how she came to sleep with her husband. She describes her confusion in the hours that followed, and her worry that she may lose both her job and her apartment. She confesses that she is worried too about its consequences for her uncle and his position in the house.

You, dear reader, may be surprised that Eva is this forthcoming in the presence of her uncle’s friend Amado. That would betray a misunderstanding of the Portenos and their openness both about love and lust. One need only observe the Buenos Aires ‘love hotels’ to realise that the Argentine approach to sex is very different from that of the Anglo Saxon. Sex is only of consequence when it is intended to be consequential.

Amado sucks Mate through the silver bombilla, wrinkles his eyes and tells her not to worry. ‘From what Raul has told me, it is N that holds the power in this household’. He continues, with a wisdom acquired from a lifetime of driving for a corrupt government, ‘the matriarch will have her reasons, and I am sure we will discover them before long’.

The question remains - what might L think and feel about her following their night together? Was this just a moment of fantasy choreographed by N, or might it have a deeper and more lasting significance? If the former, the tide will turn; but if the latter, what will be his expectations of her, and can she meet his needs?

31.

Nothing has been said by anyone, although Horacio exhibits a sense of relief at his release from duties with N. There was a moment when the casual observer would have seen Horacio completely exhausted by excesses - a lesson to all young studs who fantasise about taking a mature lover believing it to be an easy conquest.

With N back in his bed, Lars has made a transition from his short-lived affair with Eva - he is still full of desire for her soft, youthful voluptuousness, but realises this was a relationship that cannot run its course. He knows too that he must remain true to his cardinal role as N’s lover, without which he would forfeit his purpose.

There remains the question of L and Eva. Their arrangement has its advantages, for it is clearly rejuvenating L, whilst consolidating Eva’s prime position as ‘lady in waiting’. As mistress of the house master, she now becomes a key player in their polyandric household. Importantly, as devised and choreographed by her, their connection continues to be cultivated and supported by N as her gift to L, whilst having the advantage of distracting attention from her ongoing obsession with Lars.

Sunlight streams through the windows into L’s rooms, catching a torchere on which N has placed lilies taken from her room. The connecting doors between their suites remain closed, not from conflict, solely borne out of discretion. Eva rests on a chaise longue, her summer dress revealing her curvaceous legs.

L enters. She smiles up at him. He smiles back. His gaze settles on a pale thigh, its curvature enhanced by the fact that her left leg is tucked beneath her. He sits on the edge of her seat, allowing his hand to roam across her calf. Her skin feels smooth and taught, reminiscent of his youth.

She reaches up to kiss him, long enough to convey meaning, to inform him of her affection and to remind him of her responsiveness. He inhales deeply, part as a sigh of pleasure, part to ingest the scent of her youth.

‘Might we take the car out today?’, she asks, adding ‘How about a picnic in Olivos?’

A short time later, Raul packs a hamper which he passes to Amando to carry down to the garage. Amado wears the official cap he kept when leaving the Ministry, without which he would feel under-dressed. Lopens the passenger door for Eva and she slides in feeling the cool leather against the backs of her legs. They set off into 9 de Julio and out through Recoleta, Belgrano and out into the leafy suburbs of the city.

Their picnic over, the sun sloping behind the trees bordering la Plata, L sits in a folding chair whilst Eva remains spread out on the rug, lying back, her eyes watching the clouds as they slowly pass, her printed dress pulled up so she can catch the last of the sun’s rays. Amado has returned from the cafe and now sits snoozing in the Continental.

L looks down on her, dark hair tumbling about her young face, her full breasts rising as she breathes. As well as passion, he senses an overwhelming sense of protective tenderness. It is as if an impossible opportunity has been dropped in his path, and he reflects on N’s generous perceptiveness in offering it to him.


32.

The secret of power is to develop a mastery that is of such magnitude and influence that others are unwilling to challenge it. As the relationship between Eva and L becomes stronger, Eva’s status and influence in the house is enhanced. Will this lead to her becoming a threat to N’s dominance?

It is now some weeks since their picnic, and the fresh winds of autumn are gathering amongst the leaves of the Jacaranda, rattling and telling of the change of season that awaits.

N’s focus on Lars remains, and when not in her own suite she is to be found with him in his villa on the roof, or together by the pool. Raul and Amado have settled into a routine, save for chauffeuring, the one covering for the other on days off. Horacio retains his rooms at the house, but has returned to his job as tango taxi dancer to augment his modest wage as handyman. His mother seems relieved. Meanwhile L and Eva appear to divide their time between his rooms and her apartment, spending less time communally on the roof as temperatures drop. The result is a slow separation of two households within the one. N senses that she must take action to rectify the situation.

The question for N is not her influence over Lars. As she herself said in her last post to us, ‘Lars’ needs are much easier to meet. He loves both me and his independence in equal measures’. Here in Buenos Aires, liberated from work, Lars is free to stroll off on his own to Parque Lezama to drink Mate with friends and to play chess and drafts under a canopy of trees. But how to intervene in the relationship between L and Eva without appearing to threaten it? That is the question.

33.

Come late May in Buenos Aires, something interesting happens with the women of Recoleta, the city’s desirable barrio. From their closets, they take out their furs.

Whilst fashionable chique is the order of the day in summer, autumn days require hats, scarves and gloves. It is the same across the city as attendants pull covers over pools and janitors check the heating systems.

The rooftop pool here in San Telmo is now too chilly for a dip, so N has ordered the hot tub with which the delivery men are struggling on the back stairs. It will be installed in a few minutes under the gazebo outside Lars’ villa.

Today is race day at Hipodramo. N had suggested that L and Lars should arrange a men’s day out to the racecourse, together with a winner-takes-all sweepstake, and Raul, Amado and Horacio found the idea irresistible, especially as the trip is to be a treat on the house!

Eva was about to retreat to her apartment when N calls her. ‘What about a pamper day whilst the boys are racing?’, she inquires with a casualness that Eva appears to accept, ‘I have the masseuse coming over after lunch - how about it?’ Lunch followed by a massage, Eva’s idea of a dream.

They have been massaged by Maria, have lunched and tasted the light Sauvignon that Raul left on ice, and now as the afternoon cools they head for the newly installed hot tub; as N says, ‘a chance to Christen it.’

We return to find N and Eva chatting together whilst soaking and enjoying warm bubbles within, and cold bubbles without. Do not imagine that this heralds a steamy menage-a-deux, for it does not. But as they relax, their feet do touch together, their hands accidentally graze, and they turn to laugh. The afternoon has renewed their ease with each other; they speak for the first time about their encounter in Act 2 of the play; N confesses her changed feelings for Horacio and explains her need to return to Lars; Eva is drawn on her feelings for L and her fears for the future of their friendship. More of relief than passion, their facess touch, a short, sensual meeting of lips on lips, not a prelude to anything more but an intimate acknowledgment of that which has passed. It is seductive, but in the way that women bond. An observer would hardly notice it. Yet it imported between them a sense of trust, a second of sharing, a second sharing, reflecting their shared love and shared lovers.

That moment is now past. They have left the terrace and retreated down to N’s suite. On opposite sofas, they gossip and laugh. Before long they hear the sound of a taxi door and male voices arriving outside.

‘I’d better go to meet L’, says Eva. ‘Wait’, replies N, you should borrow this.’

N returns from her dressing room carrying ‘the dress’. She helps Eva from her summer frock, lifting it from her smooth shoulders and across her full breasts, to replace it with the iridescent satin, crinoline and taffeta of green. Somehow, amazingly, it fits. It pulls tight across her bust and nips at her hips, but on the second attempt the zip rises to seal its contents. The skirts flair with almost magical movement around Eva’s legs. N stands back to look at her, nods and says,’that will work’, and then leads her to make her grand entrance down the marble staircase.

34.

Boys will be boys, and Quilmes will be Quilmes, the latter providing as little restraint as the former holds moderation. Horacio, Amado and Raul sing as they slope off to their ground floor quarters, no doubt to consume more Quilmes in Raul’s little garden, whilst Lars and L stroll slightly unsteadily into the front hallway.

Ahead of them descending the staircase is an apparition: first they see her iridescent skirts on the turn of a stair, then arrives Eva in all her majesty, wearing the dress.

When worn by N it always looked divine, but here, adorning Eva it seems magnificent. With each step she takes it crackles and flares forwards and outwards with a pulse, revealing her pretty ankles and calves. Her youth has given it a new energy, symbiotic to that which went before, but radiant in its presence.

Realising the effect of the dress and feeling its power, ahead of her she now has a choice of conquest. Should it be her more youthful lover, the one who reluctantly cannot take his eyes off her; or is it to be the house master, older, slower, but loving and dependably rich? Eva knows that both men are equally invested in it through N, but in which man should she invest the opportunity to slip its zip and unwrap this prize?


35.

She stands before him. His forefinger slides down from her cheek across her chest, over her breast to her nipple and down to her hip. She shudders with anticipation. He lifts her onto the bed, dropping her the last five centimetres causing the dress to billow out. He kneels alongside her, taking his lips against her ear, then to the most sensitive part of her neck and down to her breast. She experiences a surge of excitement, but this is clearly only the start. Without warning he turns her face downward. She feels his fingers at the zip and feels it slide the full length of her body to her sacrum. His unwrapping of her is delicious. She turns upwards to rush her mouth to his, her lips against his lips, her tongue pressed against his tongue. The dress falls away to her waist. Her breasts are naked. Beneath the dress is only skin, tender to the touch and soft to the breath.

He pushes the hem and underskirts upwards to reveal the top of her thigh. Her body here is translucent, soft, warm, accommodating - in contrast to the brittle taffeta that encloses it. He reaches over her and enters her with a possessive force that she has never hitherto experienced. With the crushed dress gathered about her waist, he pushes deep, deeper than he ever imagined possible, then further. Her finger nails dig into his back as she grips him within her vagina. A scream is to be heard, louder and more sudden than ever witnessed before. It is as if it were driven from her, a primaeval sound that represents total commitment to pleasure, marking a sensation that she can hardly comprehend.

She is aware of the impossibility that he will not climax and he comes with her - never closer, matched in euphoria and ecstasy.



Only afterwards do they speak - to profess the enormity of the feeling that they experienced, the extremities of their passion, their unstoppable climaxes, the impossibility of the erotic dimension; understanding the way that N’s dress has again triumphed to capture them both in her spell.

When they have recovered, and laughed together as lovers do, Eva slips down the dress and takes it in her arms. He is unaware of what she says, but we hear her whisper, ‘thank you N’, it certainly did the trick’. With that L smiles at her from the bed as she folds the dress carefully so that no magic can escape it.


36.

At the start of this story we peered into the lives of N and L, a seemingly affluent but ordinary London couple, their only distinction being that throughout their marriage with the acquiescence of the husband, the wife had retained her lover from her youth.

We witnessed their first encounter - the moment in London that L was confronted by the reality of his wife’s ‘other life’ with her paramour. That meeting proved to be eye-wateringly steamy, unearthing for L a hitherto unrealised fascination with his wife’s infidelity, paving the way for N’s trip to Norway and her subsequent holiday with her lover to Portugal.

Their journey took L and N from the unspoken to the graphic - L, first as an observer; then as a collaborator, albeit from a distance; and finally as an active participant. It became evident too that the relationship N had forged with Lars was one that she could never discard.

It was against this backdrop that N was to procure a young mistress for her husband.This was not, nor ever could be to free herself for an exclusive life with Lars. Instead, in the 2nd Act she laid claim to Eva in a seduction to be witnessed by L, and for his first sexual encounter with her, she dressed Eva as herself, in ‘the dress’.

Thus the web was spun. She had secured Lars as her lover, ensured that her husband was captured by both indulgence and denial, and that his young mistress remained ensnared.

We cannot but doubt their future fidelity, after all Lars still lusts for Eva, L for his wife N, and there is every possibility that whilst she remains under N’s spell Eva is unable to escape her obsession with her mistress.

They remain together in their San Telmo home. Assisted by Horacio, Raul now closes the shutters against a cold westerly wind. Amado has polished the Continental for the last time before covering it with its winter tarpaulin. In the upstairs dining room candles flicker and four places are set for dinner. Our players arrive from different parts of the house, greeting each other with kisses and a hug. Free from rules and social expectations, the direction of their departure may reveal another surprise that we cannot yet predict, and which almost certainly will provide the source of another tale.

[BDJ]

aaardvarky,

Thanks for giving us the "whole story" of your Argentine adventure...and the knowledge it it would be continued. Just saw it resumed in the original thread 'From Norway with love.' Hopefully those who have enjoyed this encapsulated segment will continue there for more intrigue.