Wheels of my suitcase rumble across the airport lounge tiles. Layover in this faceless coastal city, en route to northern England, escorting Countess Isabeau to her border fiefs. Anonymity hits hard—no one knows me here. Her platinum card books the transit hotel suite. Mag key beeps, elevator dings, corridor hums with AC and distant runway jets. Isabeau texts: bar, now. She’s my boss, my lover—grateful since I saved her husband’s life. He’s joined our fucks before. Viviane’s her lady-in-waiting, rich widow, golden braid to her ass, dead husband from overseas war. Sad eyes, small perky tits peeking from her dress slit. We sip wine at the dim bar, city lights flickering outside. Isabeau smiles sly. ‘You’ll love her, Enguerrand. Join us upstairs.’ Back in the suite, king bed gleams under runway glow, Oriental rugs, luxury trunks unpacked. Servants gone. Viviane sits prim, picks at charcuterie. Isabeau pours deep red wine—spiked with aphro drops from her crusade souvenirs. I kneel chivalrous. ‘Your servant, Dame.’ She hands the silver-stemmed glass. ‘Love us both tonight.’ Heat surges fast. Viviane sways, I catch her, lay her on the bed. She smiles wicked, arms snake my neck, lips brush mine. Isabeau unlaces her dress, peels off chemise. Golden hair fans out. Pale skin, flat belly, blond bush. Isabeau strokes thighs, pubis, dives tongue into pink slit. Viviane moans, fire in belly, fingers her tits, probes pussy, rim ass. I strip, cock throbs hardest ever. Isabeau kneels, sucks shaft, strokes slow. ‘Fuck her. Possess her.’ Viviane spreads wide on Flanders sheets, Moscovy furs. Isabeau tongues clit, I knead tits, she grips my dick, pumps. She giggles, rolls belly-down, ass up. Isabeau grabs ivory dildo from trunk—realistic, Orient gift. Lubed, thrusts pussy deep. Viviane bucks, wet, open. Finger invades ass, she screams sin, begs harder. Dildo slides up, rims clit, then forces tight rosebud. Fingers fuck front hole. She thrashes, animal in heat. I kneel front, cock to lips. She sucks greedy, deepthroats as Isabeau pegs ass. I thrust mouth, hair gripped. Isabeau pulls me, swaps: dildo pussy, my burning head breaches ass. I pound wild, hips gripped. She slows me, fingers Viviane’s drip. Viviane howls orgasm, tears joy. I explode deep ass, seed floods. We collapse, sweat-slick. Later, Viviane sneaks my room down hall. Straw mattress? Nah, firm hotel bed. Head-to-toe, she gobbles cock tip, slurps deep. I tongue wet folds, scent musky. She milks shaft with lips, hands sync. I cum throat-deep, she swallows nectar, every drop. We spoon, hands linked, sleep buzzed. Dawn beeps keycard return. Runway roars resume. Viviane’s taste lingers, Isabeau’s wink promises more. Suitcase zips, anonymity fades. Jet awaits, border calls. One-night blaze etched forever.