Every one of the guys related to her differently—and pleasured her differently. All three of them had enriched her sexuality in so many ways. Right now, she could reach out to hold any of their hands, and she’d receive a welcoming reaction. She could kiss any of them, run her hand up their thigh…
Well, she probably shouldn’t do that here, in public. She’d make the flight attendants jealous. Quite a few of them, both male and female, had already given her friends appreciative looks as they walked by.
And they were her lovers. She was so lucky. There was no jealousy, no competition or one-up-manship between them, like in rehearsals.
Again, her mind flitted to the edges of that greedy, selfish fantasy, of having all of them love her at once, all of them touch her, caress her, give stern orders or whisper in her ear. She could never ask them about trying a ménage, never even hint at wanting it. It would be too embarrassing to admit she fantasized about something so perverse and excessive. Three magnificent cocks at once? Three sets of broad shoulders and hard abs, and powerful bodies, and possessive hands guiding her this way and that? Heavenly, but not likely in real life.
She was grateful when the flight attendant interrupted her daydreams to ask if she wanted any drinks or snacks. All of them asked for coffee. They’d timed the flight so they’d arrive in Berlin at night, at bedtime, and they needed to be tired enough to go to sleep then, so no in-flight naps were allowed. They had to adjust quickly to the six-hour time difference, so they ate, drank, talked, and watched movies to get them through a mid-afternoon energy drop. If only their first-class seats were a little more private, they could have done other things to pass the time…
Ruby, you perv.
It was the excitement of the trip that had her so wound up, as well as the energy that flowed between them when they were together. They couldn’t get down and dirty in first class, but a transatlantic flight still allowed for bonding, flirting, and a stolen kiss now and again.
By the time they got to the hotel, they were more awake than they wanted to be, buoyed by the breathtaking views of the city at night. Their hotel was a marble showplace, highbrow and modern, located right near the Berliner Philharmonie, the elegant music hall where their host orchestra rehearsed and played.
Instead of booking them into separate rooms, the travel agent had reserved the penthouse suite, a 3,000 square foot wonderland with a glass-walled living room perfect for rehearsing, a dining room, a terrace, and four bedrooms with personal bathroom suites. Ruby thought her head would explode as they walked from room to room flicking on the lights, their mouths open in amazement.
“I can’t believe this,” said Ethan. “What the fuck? How much is this costing them?”
“Do you know how much the Philharmonic takes in over the course of a season?” Steve laughed. “Aside from ticket sales, they’ve got hundreds of patrons. Enjoy it. This is the celebrity life.”
“I call the black room,” said Jonathan, carrying his bags to the first bedroom, all done up in chrome and tile.
“I’ll take any room,” said Ruby, still awestruck. “Any of these fucking rooms will be fine.”
“You pick next,” Steve told her. “Then Ethan. I don’t care where I sleep. These rooms are all one hundred percent nicer than my room back home.”
Ruby ended up in the red-themed room, because she was named for a red gem, and the gown she’d brought for their concerts was deep crimson red. Blood red, Ethan had called it, nodding in approval. He took the blue room, and Steve took the neutral-colored room with shades of ecru, ivory, and bone.
Beautiful. So beautiful, all of it. The living room was done in warm taupes, and featured a massive stone fireplace, as well as a sculptural chandelier.
“I’ll never be able to sleep now,” Ruby complained, sprawling on the large sectional that outlined the common area. “This is too crazy. It’s too nice.”
“We deserve it,” said Ethan, sitting beside her. “Just keep telling yourself that.”
Steve and Jonathan joined them too, and a silence fell between them. Ethan had turned on the fireplace with the flick of a switch. It was a gas fire with ceramic logs, not the real thing, but it brought a sense of comfort and ease as they gazed out at the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows. By now, Ruby’s head was pillowed in Ethan’s lap. He stroked her hair as Steve and Jonathan stretched out their legs and sighed.
“To think, you could have been in Vegas,” said Jonathan.
They all laughed, because this was so much better than Vegas. This was once-in-a-lifetime stuff, really special shit.
“Honestly, right now, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” she said. “And nothing else I’d rather do than play the Schoenberg in Berlin with my three best friends.”