John had departed looking, it has to be said, radiantly happy, presumably to organize some way of engineering a meeting with Agnes - something not too obvious, I hoped, with a degree of subtlety that meant that it might just possibly be a second chance encounter.
After he had disappeared, Selene looked at me speculatively, a half-grin forming on her lips. I faced her with my head tilted to one side, straightened my shoulders and cupped my breasts in my hands. She reached out and delicately touched those pink lips set in my chest. I gasped at the soft touch, still wet with John's cum and my own intimate fluids.
"Fancy a shower?" she asked, her grin widening and her eyes flashing.
"Sure do, Honey," I replied, smiling broadly back at her, "I sure do."
We left the private room - one of several in the upper floors of the Club - and made our way to the Encounter Suite, more colloquially known as the Wet Rooms. This occupies almost the entire lower floor of the Chromium Shaft Club. This area is kept in near-darkness, the lighting altered continuously by the PA to balance atmospherics and practicality, and imbued with a slight flicker that a person from a past age might have mistaken for candlelight. The entire suite is filled with pools and channels running with delightfully warm water and furnished with low couches and platforms of various heights, upholstered in black fabric and, in some cases, partially submerged in the splashing waters.
The Club maintains a considerable variety of machines and toys to enhance the sexual fulfillment of the Club's members and their guests, and it is these facilities that I used to help with and, on a few memorable occasions, demonstrate to the punters. In this particular area, the automation is programmed to assist and excite only couples and groups - there are plenty of other places in the Club for solitary machine-assisted sexual activities.
Selene and I paused for a few moments near the way in to the Wet Rooms. A movement inside the suite caught my eye. I took Selene's hand, and together we stepped into a darker shadow not far from the entrance to watch what was going on.
Further into the room, a couple - a man and a woman, both Norms as far as I could see - were lying on a mattress right next to the gently tinkling waters. It was clear that they were enjoyed each others most intimate attentions. The woman, blonde-haired and pale-skinned, lay partially on her side, one leg raised up, her breasts bouncing and jiggling as she coupled energetically with the muscular dark-haired man whose dick was thrusting rhythmically into her pussy from behind.
Her breasts seemed to tighten slightly and her nipples darkened and hardened, as she approached orgasm, her eyes closed and mouth opened in what was probably a moan of pleasure, although the susurrations of the water meant it was not possible to hear just what noises she made.
As Selene and I watched, he came inside her, his head thumping back on the soft padding as his rhythmic movements degenerated into typically male spasms and twitches. She came too, at about the same moment or just after, her cries now loud enough to be just audible.
The man slid away from her slightly, and she rolled onto her back, breathing heavily. Even though she had just come, she had a look on her face that I recognized. It is one which I have seen from time to time on the face of the guests when I worked here in the Club and even, just occasionally, on my own face when glimpsed in a mirror. It is the look of a woman who wants - no, needs - more sex, and needs it right now.
Fortunately, she had come to the right place. Sensing her need, in the almost prescient way the pervasive automation sometimes does, the dark shape of one of the house machines appeared, emerging from the water next to them. It had taken on the form of a long flexible tube with a rounded swelling on the end. It was known at the Club as the Italian Stallion, although I am not sure why this particular toy should be thought to come from Italy.
Unhesitatingly, the machine entered into her vagina, moving smoothly between her pussy lips lubricated, no doubt, by her own juices mingled with her companion's cum. Her mouth opened again as the dildo began to enlarge and pulsate. Even from were Selene and I stood, we could see her breasts and nipples swelling even more, seeming to fill out as if pumped up by the autonomic penis now penetrating her deeply.
Her male companion politely knelt over her, sucking very hard on one of her nipples and using both hands to squeeze her breasts. I was beginning to suspect - correctly, as it turned out - that she was not a Norm after all, but a Mamma, a woman who lactates copiously when sexually stimulated.
As we watched, the woman screamed again and again, her voice carrying easily to our vantage-point. As she did so, her visible nipple - the one her companion was not sucking - burst forth with a gush of mother's milk, spraying her companion's face with the white liquid. I had no doubt the man's mouth was now completely filled with the same sweet ambrosia. He had obviously thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of breast-feeding and the taste of Mamma's milk. He swallowed, again and again, then licked up the spilt milk on his face and over the woman’s upper body.
I looked at Selene, who returned my direct stare.
"Now I really need to cool off," she exclaimed.
"Me, too," I replied.
I took her hand and headed for the showers.