The Presidential Suite Conversations

###Writer's Note: Please read The Lounge Bar Conversations story before proceeding to get the context###

The presidential suite of the Four Seasons was all low lighting and sprawling elegance with floor-to-ceiling windows framing the glittering city skyline with the Opera House and the Sydney Bridge emitting an eerie glow. There was a bottle of champagne already chilling in a silver bucket. Mandy kicked off her heels with a sigh, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet as she turned to face Matthew.

“You’re staring again,” she teased, reaching behind her to unzip her dress. He tried to help her, but she stopped him with a quick raise of her hand as she maintained control of the proceedings.

Mandy stood before Matthew, her fingers hooking into the sides of her emerald dress. With a slow, deliberate tug, the fabric slid down her body, pooling at her feet. The air between them crackled as Matthew drank in the sight of her - every curve, every flaw, every intoxicating imperfection.

Matthew swallowed hard as the emerald fabric slid further down her body, pooling at her feet. She stood before him in nothing but black lace, all curves and confidence, her skin glowing in the dim light.

Her body was a testament to time. Her breasts, once perky, now hung with a gentle weight, nipples dusky and peaked in the cool air. The faint silver stretch marks along her hips shimmered in the low light, like whispers of a life well-lived. Matthew’s throat went dry as his gaze trailed lower, over the soft swell of her belly, down to the neatly trimmed triangle of auburn hair between her thighs.

Mandy smirked, arching a brow. “See something you like?”

Matthew could not speak. There was something unbearably erotic about her confidence, the way she owned every inch of herself - no shame, no pretence.

She stepped closer, guiding his hands to her hips. “Touch me.”

His fingers traced the dip of her waist, the slight give of her skin under his palms. When he cupped her breasts, they spilled over his hands, warm and heavy. He thumbed her nipples, earning a throaty sigh.

“Good boy,” she murmured, grinding against him.

His pulse spiked as her scent enveloped him - musky, sweet, undeniably her. The untamed curls between her legs brushed his knee, and he groaned, half-hard again already. He was after all well over six feet three inches in height and she was, at his best guess, a foot shorter.

Momentarily, his mind went back in time to his dad's secret stash of old Playboy magazines that he used to secretly browse through when he was alone at home. He wondered why his mind was racing to an old memory and then it dawned upon him as his flashbacks stopped on the December 1983 edition.

Mandy laughed, low and wicked. “Still staring," as she brought Matthew back to the present.

“Can’t help it,” he admitted hoarsely yet hiding the fact that he had just relived the moment when he first saw Dynasty's Joan Collins naked in that magazine. Mandy reminded him of adolescent crush of a classy older lady.

She kissed him, slow and deep. “Then don’t.”

And just like that, the last shred of his restraint burned away.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

Mandy stepped closer, her fingers working open his shirt buttons. “Eloquent.”

Matthew stepped back before ripping off the last of his own clothes - as if he wanted to show Mandy that he still wanted to have some control of the situation that was unravelling before them.

She admired his toned torso and wide chest and gazed lower till her eyes met his cock, covered in mat of hair that contrasted the rest of his hairless body. It was already erect and seeping.

He grabbed her waist, pulling her against him, their mouths crashing together in a kiss that burned. Her hands raked through his hair, nails scraping his scalp, and he groaned into her mouth, his fingers finding the back of her soft, dimpled buttocks and digging his nails into them.

A knock at the door.

Mandy broke the kiss with a smirk. “Right on time.”

Matthew’s pulse spiked as she sauntered to the door, her hips swaying. Basil stood in the hallway, looking far too amused for a man his age.

“Evening,” he drawled, stepping inside. His gaze flicked to Matthew, then down to Mandy’s half-undressed body. “Ah. I see you have started without me.”

Mandy laughed, pressing a kiss to Basil’s cheek. “Just warming him up.” She turned to Matthew, her eyes dark with intent. “You don’t mind an audience, do you?”

Matthew’s throat went dry. He would never - but the way Mandy was looking at him, the way Basil leaned against the wall with that knowing smirk.

“No,” he rasped. “I don’t mind.”

Mandy’s smile was pure sin. “Good.”

She pushed him onto the bed, climbing over him with predatory grace. Basil settled into an armchair, watching as Mandy dragged her nails down Matthew’s chest, as she nipped at his collarbone, as she peeled off his pants with agonizing slowness.

“Christ,” Matthew gasped when her hand wrapped around him, stroking.

Basil chuckled, sipping on the drink that he had brought up from the lounger bar. “She’s always been good with her hands.”

Mandy shot him a look over her shoulder. “Quiet, you.” Then she lowered her mouth to Matthew’s cock, and the world narrowed to heat and wetness and the sound of his own ragged breathing. She paused as she tasted the familiar taste of pre-cum and removed some stray pubes of his from her mouth before resuming on the task ahead.

He tangled his hands in her hair, hips jerking as she took him deeper, her tongue working him mercilessly. Basil’s gaze was heavy on them, but Matthew couldn’t bring himself to care - not when Mandy was sucking him like she wanted to ruin him, not when she pulled away with a filthy smirk and straddled him, grabbing hold of his cock as she aimed it at her opening and sinking down in one smooth motion.

“Fuck...wow...Mandy”

She rode him slow at first, rolling her hips, her nails digging into his chest. Then faster, harder, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she chased her own pleasure. Matthew gripped her thighs, thrusting up into her, the slap of skin on skin loud in the quiet room.

Basil’s voice cut through the haze. “Look at her. Absolutely breath taking.”

Matthew did. Mandy’s head thrown back, her body arched, her breasts bouncing with each movement. She was glorious. He reached with his hands and thumbed her hard pencil-head nipples as she moaned her approval.

“Come for me,” she demanded, and Matthew obeyed, spilling into her with a groan. She followed moments later, shuddering around him, her cry muffled against his shoulder.

They collapsed together, sweat-slick and spent. Basil raised his glass in a silent toast, his eyes gleaming.

“Well,” he said. “That was certainly worth the wait.”

Mandy laughed, curling into Matthew’s side. “Told you he’d behave.”

Matthew, still dazed, could only grin.

The coitus had been frantic, hungry, Mandy riding him with a smirk that bordered on cruel as she watched him unravel beneath her. When he came, shuddering, she pressed a finger to his lips and whispered, “That’s one.”

The unexpected silence was broken by the popping sound of champagne as Basil did the honours and poured Mandy a glass.

Before he could catch his breath, she slid off him and reached for the glass, taking a slow sip as if they had just finished a business meeting. Matthew lay there, dazed, his skin still buzzing.

“You’re… terrifying,” he panted.

Mandy laughed. “Good.”

Basil then started to remove his clothes starting with his trousers amongst all things else.

Matthew tensed, but Mandy just stretched like a cat and called, “Someone approves.”

Basil stepped closer as he took in the scene: Matthew sprawled on the sofa, Mandy naked save for her heels, the air thick with sex and spilled champagne.

“Ah,” Basil said, grinning. “I hope there is more after this.”

Mandy rose and kissed him—deep, possessive—before murmuring, “Just warming him up for you.”

Matthew’s stomach dropped. For you?

Basil must have seen the panic flash across his face, because he chuckled and patted Matthew’s shoulder. “Relax, son. I am not here to fight you for her.” He sank into an armchair, pouring himself a drink. “I’m here to watch.”

Mandy straddled Matthew again, her hips grinding lazily against his thigh as she explained. “Basil’s my husband.”

Matthew’s brain short-circuited. Husband?!

“Twenty-three years,” Basil added cheerfully. “She’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Mandy nipped at Matthew’s earlobe. “He has erectile dysfunction these days. Cannot get hard like he used to.” Her hand slid between Matthew’s legs, coaxing him back to life. “But he loves to watch. And sometimes… if I am good, very, very good…” She glanced at Basil, her voice dropping to a purr. “He joins in.”

Basil’s smile turned wolfish. “And you, Matthew, are exactly her type.”

Matthew’s pulse roared in his ears. He should have been shocked. Should have bolted. But Mandy’s fingers were working magic, and Basil’s gaze - hungry, approving - sent a twisted thrill through him.

“You’re both insane,” he breathed.

Mandy kissed him, slow and filthy. “Say yes.”

And God help him - he did.