Noir

She walked up to me like one of those divine creatures featured in some black and white film. Black dress, blonde hair, red lips and an attitude that was cool aloof and too good for me. She was a cliché, but I wanted her. She smoked a cigarette, but the way she held and played with it she wasn’t a smoker. The cigarette was a prop, one of those herbal deals with a heavy dose of clove.

She leaned in close to me smelling of Brazil nut and vanilla, whispering, “If you sit here looking like a hungry wolf, all the little red riding hoods will stay away.”

I smiled, hoping it was appropriately wolfish, “What’s your name.”

She didn’t even look at me when she answered, “Apple.”

“Like the fruit.” I know, a dumb reply, but my mouth took over before my mind had time to come up with something better.

“The forbidden kind” it was a retort, meant to put me in my place or at least reprimand me for my stupid comment, yet still another cliché.

She pushed off the bar and headed to the dance floor. Before she got there she turned back to me and did that slight motion with her head that indicated I should follow. I was really hoping there was some camera crew around some where because this was the stuff of movies.

I was even in the right outfit. Grey pinstripe zoot styled suit, with suspenders, tie, vest and a fedora, white pocket square peeking out. It wasn’t my usual outfit, but this club hosted theme nights. Tonight’s theme was movies from the 1940’s; perhaps that is why I was feeling so film noir.

I expected she would be good on the dance floor, she was better than good; moving in a seductive sway, much like a snake charmer. I didn’t feel quite like a snake, but her way of moving left me feeling like I had two left feet.

I took a mental break from the moment; from the dance floor. In just a few minutes this woman had me as a wolf and a snake, I must have been watching too much Discovery Channel.

My mental break wasn’t doing me any good because at that moment a song popped into my head “You and me baby ain't nothin' but mammals, so let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel.”

Not a song that revered her beauty, but it was what I was feeling; irreverent, sexed up, reacting to stimulation and pheromones. I understood what the Bloodhound Gang was saying when they wrote the song. Screw romance, screw niceties, I just wanted to screw her.

Maybe I was feeling a bit schizophrenic. Love her fuck her, who said there was only one choice or the other? Fuck her and love her that is what I wanted and I had only just met her.

I returned my attention to the moment, to her. I was just trying to keep up and not look bad, but her every movement was an act of sensual art. We danced for a couple more songs and then she signaled it was time to go back to the bar.

She was catching her breath, I was hoping it was for me, but I sensed her moment of leisure wasn’t for my consideration. She confirmed my suspicion when she pushed off the bar, “I’ll be back.” One toss of her hair and it was all backside.

Signaling the bartender I ordered a drink. I contemplated the lime in my Vodka and Tonic. Wasn’t sure if she was in the bathroom, making a phone call or had just completely ditched me; and then, there it was, an unbidden thought. She was naked and I was squeezing that wedge of lime. The juice was dripping; down her clit, down her lips making that wet slit even juicier and oh so tart.

I thought of how it would taste, the lime juice mingled with her. Tasting with my mind; I imagined sweet musk and the sharp sour, now just to have those flavors hitting my taste buds and not just my imagination. I thought about how my tongue would lap up the drops of wetness, then moving up. Her navel, it was such a delicious word, navel, and I wanted to taste ever drop of sweat on her navel. Then I wanted to move up; breasts.

My mind was picturing them, the areolas a dusky rose color, wet with my saliva. Nipples responsive and hard, sending sensations to her pussy, sensations that would make her drip giving me more to lick; I was lost in the moment.

There was a bit of commotion on stage. Not real commotion, just a change up in a few musicians. They started into a blues riff. I still had the image of her naked in my mind the taste of her in my mouth and then she was there. On stage, walking toward the mike, grabbing the mike stand, like I wanted her to grab me and then she sang.

Warm like honey, smooth like expensive wine, sweet like ripe fruit, I couldn’t think of enough cliché similes to compare her to. The voice, the way she moved, it captivated me. Okay well to be honest the whole lime fantasy had me captivated, but her singing did more!

As she sang each song I saw how some in the audience looked at her. Wolfs wanting little red riding hood; I didn’t want her any less than any one of them. I wanted her more; at least in my book I wanted her more.

She finished her short set on stage. I leaned back on the bar, an attempt at looking debonair. I tried to pretend to be the wolf, as she walked towards me I saw her defenses go up and my chances at getting her number go down.

Desperation became inspiration. I took her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles, I looked at her eyes and gave her a smile devoid of art and full of admiration “that was beautiful, you are beautiful.” The defenses weren’t down, but they receded an inch.

She sat on the stool next to me and ordered a drink; she had a thing for vodka tonic too. She sat there, I wanted to say so much, but I let the silence be. Her arm found a resting place on my thigh and then her head relaxed against my shoulder. I kissed the top of her head as I caressed her arm. We sat, we touched, discretely, it was a public place and we drank, half an hour passed.

“Do you have a place to go that is less crowded than here?” I was surprised by her question coming out of the silence. “I have my place, not far from here.” I wasn’t sure that was the kind of answer she was looking for and I knew there was hesitation in my offer, but I thought it was worth the risk of giving the option.

She reached up, touched my face, it was almost tender and said “I guess there aren’t any all night book stores in this part of town, so your place will do.” Her tone of voice, the touch of sarcasm, told me she expected me to offer up my place. I could kick myself for having less confidence, but she mixed her sarcasm with that soft touch and at the moment I was just grateful that she wanted to be alone with me.

Staying in the theme of the night, I took her to my car letting her know I would return her to her own car when she was ready and opened the car door for my dame. I drove, careful to avoid breaking any laws, because I didn’t thing blue and read flashing lights would add to the ambiance of the night. It was hard to be careful, to concentrate, because Apple, kept touching me, a soft caress on my thigh, then my bicep, my check, my neck, I am trying to drive and she is brining every never in my body alive with her touch.

We make it to my apartment without incident, other than my heightening arousal, I turn the car off, pull the keys from the ignition, then hop out and go to open her door, “My flat is up there.” It is one flight of stairs and I let her go first, because I just want to watch the way she moves up the stairs.

Of course I fumble the keys a bit at the door, I want to be so suave, but the combination of excitement and nerves made me feel like I had a hand full of thumbs. I manage to get the door open, without too much key comedy and allow Apple to proceed me into the living room, while I flipped on the lights. She takes a seat on the sofa; I go to my small galley style kitchen to make us each a drink.

Though she had a vodka tonic at the club, I make us apple martini’s, at the last moment adding a cherry to hers and one slice of lime to mine, just in case I got to live out my fantasy from earlier at the club. I decide to leave my fedora on the kitchen counter.

I fired up my stereo system, which was connected to my iPod, loading my seduction play list. I watched her take a sip of her martini, she licked the spot at the rim of the glass where a drop of drink clung, just where her lips had been before. God I wanted her tongue to lick me like that too.

I sat next to her, took a sip of my drink, then she leaned in and kissed me. It was soft at first, then she lightly sucked on my lower lip, ran her tongue across my upper lip, a little nibble on the lower lip, then her tongue slowly caressed mine, from there the kiss deepened and I was in the moment savoring her taste and becoming even more aroused.

I move my hand to her knee, conveniently her black dress has a slit and my hand has found the side with the slit, I slide my hand higher. As I explore her thigh I find the lacy top of a stocking, a little more and I find she stayed with the 1940’s theme even in her stockings as it is held up with a garter belt and clasps. We are still kissing, I am hoping that I have more grace in my kiss than I did on the dance floor as I continue to explore upwards. Her panties are not a 1940’s style; instead it is just a few scraps of material making up a G-String.

I move aside the slight bit of material and run my finger up her slit, it is very wet and I pull my finger out, stopping our kiss to taste her. One taste is not going to be enough of my delicious Apple. Emboldened by her acceptance of my explorations so far I move from sitting on the couch and kneel between her legs. I slide her dress up, she wiggles just right to help me get her long skirt up high enough for what I want.

The scrap of material is still moved to one side, I inhale her scent, musky and tart, I look at the lips that surround her vagina and the blush on her lips, the drops of moisture between her lips, I know she is as aroused as I am. I slide my finger in the space between her lips a few times, then once my finger is nice and slippery with her apple juice I slide it over her clit. I am rewarded by a slight gasp from her.

I retreat from my place between her legs and hear a sound of protest, “Just a sec I promise, I’m only taking off my jacket.” I am feeling pretty good about how this is going. I shed my jacket, unbutton my shirt sleeves and roll them up a bit and then I return to my place between her legs. As I get back on my knees, I notice what a beautiful picture she is. Dress bunched up at her hips, stocking tops, clasps and garter belt exposed, legs spread, head thrown back, aroused and glistening. I also had noticed her cherry still in her drink.

I turn and liberate her cherry from her martini. I move in and lick her, using my tongue to first separate her outer lips, then I massage her inner lips with my tongue and open them too. Then I push the cherry into her, until the stem us just protruding from her pussy. I lick the inside of those lips, getting my tongue so I can just taste the cherry without pushing it in any further, then I cup my tongue into that pussy and scoop out the cherry. I keep the cherry in my mouth and move up, pulling her down to me and kiss her, giving her the cherry “you don’t taste like apple at all, seems to me you are all cherry.

I go back to her pussy, using my tongue to lap up any bit of cherry taste left behind. Then when that was gone I was just tasting her, swirling my tongue on her clit, softly so as not to over stimulate her, then I went back to thrusting my tongue in her pussy. After a couple minutes of this she starts to rub her own clit and for the first time I notice her nails, they were long and I wasn’t sure if I would call it candy apple or cherry, but very red.

She quickens the pace that she is rubbing herself, so I try to lick her deeper, getting my tongue in as far as possible. I could feel the slight tightening of her body and her pussy. Then her pussy started to spasm so hard I could feel it clenching on my tongue almost trying to pull it in deeper and then my mouth was bathed in her juices and I licked up every drop I could.

She sighed, I felt aroused, but god, I made her cum and that was something. I returned next to her on the couch and started sipping my martini again. Giving her a few minutes, waiting to find out what was next. After a few minutes, she took my martini from me and started kissing me again. She was very aggressive this time; it was like giving her an orgasm charged her sexual batteries instead of draining them.

As she kissed me she unbuttoned my vest and loosened my tie, then broke away to pull the tie off me and slide off my vest, both of which were laid on the arm of the sofa. She stood up and lifted her hair off her neck; it was a delicate, smooth neck. “Would you mind undoing my zipper?” Of course I didn’t mind, I stood up, started to nibble her neck, then as I slowly moved the zipper down I moved my nibbles down her spine.

She slid the dress off; it too went over the arm of the sofa. She turned back to me, now in her bra, which accentuated her breasts, those stockings, the clasps, garter belt and the flimsy excuse for panties and she still had her heels on, it was an exquisite sight, something you would see in a 1940’s Vargas drawing, with less revealing panties, but I wanted more, I wanted to see her breasts bare, I wanted her areolas and nipples in my mouth.

I embraced her, kissing her again with even more urgency and worked the hook and eyes that kept her bra on. I was able to undo it and then slid it off her shoulders letting the bra fall to the ground. She had beautiful full breasts, creamy like the rest of her with pink nipples; I moved my head down and suckled on one of those nipples, then the other. She pulled me up and kissed me while she pulled down my suspenders and unbuttoned my shirt. She slid my shirt off my shoulders and it pooled on the floor with her bra.

I was left standing there, with the ace bandage I had bound tightly around my breasts before I went out to the club so I wouldn’t look too feminine. She found the clasps and unwound my binding, freeing my average sized breasts. Then she took each of my nipples into her mouth in turn, making them hard, I knew that I was very wet just like she was earlier. Of course she wasn’t surprised by what she found under my suit since we had met at a lesbian bar.

Next she undid my pants and they pooled around my ankles, I looked down, she looked down and we both chuckled, realizing that my shoes would need to come off before my pants could come all the way off. She pushed me down onto the couch and started to untie my shoes. I was amazed to find the act of having my shoes untied to be so sensual. Her breasts kept brushing up against my legs. She took my socks off, tickling them a little, showing me that she was playful, then with a few swift movements my pants joined my other clothing on the arm of the chair.

I was left in just my Fruit of the Loom boxer briefs. Not the sexiest underwear, but it worked for my character that night and didn’t show panty lines. Or course I knew if anyone might be seeing my underwear that night I might have choosen some Calvin Klein’s or Joe Boxers. Then again, since she was calling herself Apple, maybe Fruit of the Loom would work for me.

She hooked her fingers into my waistband and tugged; I cooperated and did the pelvic thrust that would allow her to divest me of my one remaining piece of clothing. And there I was exposed to her like she was to me earlier. I was shaved just like she was so it was easy for her to see how dripping wet I was. She darted out her tongue to get a little taste of my juice.

Just with that I was on edge and I knew I wouldn’t last long. She put one of her long fingers into my pussy, then joined it with another. Her tongue started to flicker on my clit. It only took a moment and I coming, my juices spilling onto her fingers as my brain spun into a place of ecstasy.

Before I even returned from my journey to the planet pleasure, she slid her fingers into my mouth so I would taste myself, and now I had both her taste and my taste on my taste buds. I kissed her one more time so she would also know what we created when our juices mingled.

I looked at her, “I have a really comfortable bed in the bedroom, want to stay the night and I will take you back in the morning. I mean you never know we might get a second wind.” She agreed

We got to the bedroom; I pulled back the covers, “Sit down so I can take off your heels.” She did and as I took off each heel I massaged her foot for a moment and kissed the top of her feet. I unclasped the little mechanisms that kept her stockings up, unhooked her garter belt, rolled down the stocking on the right leg, then the stocking on the left. .

I hooked my fingers in the strings that were her underwear, hoping she would be as cooperative about her underwear as I was about mine. She was, and I reveled in the idea I would be snuggling up to her naked that night.

We both crawled into bed and snuggled, not really talking. I felt her relax, her breathing setting into an even pattern, knowing she was falling asleep, hopeful she would wake later ready for more. As she drifted off I wondered would I be punished for having Apple, a bit of forbidden fruit, or if I would be able to find Eden with her instead.

Copyright 2009 Lillian Christiansen

The Letter on the Door

Reaching for his door knob, Blake finally dropped the persona of happy go lucky that he put on for work. With his briefcase in hand and the mail he just pulled out of the box tucked under his arm, he started to turn the door knob and noticed there was a letter tacked to his door.

Blake pulled the letter off the door, tucking it between his teeth so that he would still have one hand free to turn the knob on his door. He crossed his threshold, relief seeped from him in a sigh as he dropped his briefcase next to his entryway table. He took the letter from between his teeth and set it on the table, then set the mail under his arm on top of the letter.

He went through his nightly ritual; change into more comfortable clothes, dinner for one, dishes for one, laundry for one. He grabbed the pile of mail from his entryway table. Sat down on his couch, comfortable, masculine, rich brown leather with hints of Merlot, overstuffed with rich mahogany feet and embellishments on the arms.

He opened the mail pieces setting the junk mail aside on his coffee table, a mahogany matching the accents on his couch. His lap top was on his coffee table and as he opened bills he would log onto the account and pay them on-line. Always he paid them as soon as he received them. That was all that was in his pile of mail, junk and bills. Then there was the letter.

He picked up the letter feeling the paper, heavy, a resume paper perhaps, could someone have tacked a resume to his door? The envelope was almost too unique for a resume marbled with a coppery tone; it was more of a parchment. He liked the feel of the paper, the weight of the paper, even the coppery hues, it felt substantial, promising. He held the letter to his nose, a faint scent, nutmeg, vanilla and something else. It was subtle; it smelled like coming home to a kitchen where cookies were being baked.

Blake was curious about what might be in the letter, but wanted to savor the mystery a moment more. He expected the intrigue of the mystery created by the sealed envelope would exceed any intrigue actually contained in the letter. He got up from his couch and went to his wine cooler. He liked good wine so he kept about 48 bottles in his chiller.

He picked out a full bodied Pinot Noir, smiling to himself as he recalled that one of the Master Sommeliers referred to the Pinot as “Sex in a glass.” He thought it was Madeline Triffon who said it. His Pinot was from New Zealand with a fruit forward aroma of black cherry he looked at the bottle and saw the vintage was just two years old, but that was a good thing for a New Zealand Pinot.

He went over to his credenza and picked up a heavy silver letter opener. Though he was sure reading the letter would never match up to his musings of what it could be he felt it deserved to be more than just torn into, so he used the opener to break the seal. Before pulling the letter out of the unsealed opener he took another sip of wine savoring it with that last moment of suspense, then flattened out the pages, which were in the same coppery parchment as the envelope, he began to read.

”Blake,

I see you every day, we work together and at times I am overwhelmed by how close you can be to me at the office, standing over my shoulder, your shirt brushing against that shoulder as you critique a bit of marketing we are working on. You stay so professional, smiling, but aloof and yet as I breathe in your smell, the shampoo, soap, aftershave and cologne you use, I don’t feel professional or aloof; though I am smiling.

I have these fantasies about you, it is to the point I sometimes am more involved in the scenarios in my head than I am in what we are working on. I am sure at times my preoccupation with you makes me seem less than devoted to my occupation, ditzy. I thought if I committed the details to paper, they would no longer distract me at the office. Then just having them on paper wasn’t enough, I wanted you to know what I was thinking. So I wrote you this letter.

The place for these fantasies is never detailed, just someplace away from the office. Someplace where you can let your guard down, stop smiling and start to just feel, as I unbutton your shirt. Feel my fingertips move against your bare skin, exploring the muscles, the texture of your skin, the hair on your chest. Those fingers moving to your shoulders and sliding your shirt off your shoulders, where it stops at your wrists, I explore those shoulders too, moving my fingertips across the muscles and tendons. As I touch, as I explore and as that touch deepens you breathe and relax just a little.

I always imagine that for me this is sensual, but to you it is just relaxing, a shedding of your corporate persona. Then I start to kiss your bare skin, slow kisses, my warm lips against your skin, with moments were my tongue flicks out to taste you. That is when it becomes more sensual for you, when you look down too see the intimacy of the way I kiss you, the way I taste you. You want to reach up and touch me also, but your shirt, the sleeves pooled at your wrists keeps you from doing so. You have to accept touch without touching in return. In my mind I imagine this being a mild frustration, but then you give into the idea that you will be touched, tasted, given a moment of sensuality while you can just be and do nothing.

The look I see in your eyes in that moment is telling, the intensity of taking in without doing. In my mind I see this at night, where not only am I touching and caressing your skin, but so is the light of the moon. I am sure it is a romantic girl thing, but for me I imagine the light of the moon giving to you also, touching, caressing and wishing that she is more than light to reach out to you with, that she envies that I have fingers in which to feel you with. It is wonderful to imagine for a moment that the moon is jealous of me that I have the tactile experience and the taste you. I feel powerful and more daring, my kisses, licks, caresses move lower.

My tongue takes in the texture of your suit pants, a tight weave, light, wool. The top of your pants has a flap at the top, about an inch wide and a few inches long, with a hook and eye type of device that helps keep the place where your shirt tucks into your pants smooth. I unhook the flap, but then there is also a button. I lick the place between the fabric and the button and then undo that button. Undoing the button creates a small V of skin just above your zipper. It is a small piece of real-estate of skin, pie sliced piece, only a half inch at top, then reducing to nothing.

This patch of skin feels mysterious, untouched, not the Bermuda Triangle where things disappear, but it is the erogenous isosceles triangle where everything is intensely sensitive. I lick that place, you shudder, still trapped by the shirt sleeves at your wrists you still can’t reciprocate, you can only take in the sensations I am giving you.

As I taste and touch it is like there is a symphony written on your body, notes I must taste, touch, places I need allow to reverberate, places that require a crescendo and other places I must touch with the respect and reverence of the pianissimo. Moments and places where the light lilting of my tongue is needed and others where notes are held longer, drawing out the pleasure.

As I write this I see, on an intellectual level, the utter silliness. Thinking the moon could be jealous of me. Imagining a Concerto being a part of your skin, a Concerto only I can read and play, a bit of whimsy. Fantasies are just that, fantasies, containing flights of fancy and silliness, but also intense feeling.

I inch your zipper down letting your trousers slide down around your legs, to your ankles, trapping them much like your wrists are. Then I work on that symphony my senses find written on your skin. Touching, tasting, playing you like I was a virtuoso and your body was my instrument. In my real life there is no virtuosity.

You are there, hands trapped by the sleeves of your well tailored shirt. Legs trapped by the material in your trousers. Then I move your boxer shorts down, I always imagine boxer shorts. It is another piece of material to keep you confined while you experience. I am emboldened that you are already hard, that my caresses, that my tongue has already moved at least one part of you. I move to my knees.

I touch gently and find your penis responds to my touch. Then tentatively I taste your penis. It is slightly salty from your sweat, but I also taste hints of the soap you use. Then I put my lips around the tip of your penis and move them down slowly, getting a feel for how deeply I can take you in. I find the point just before it becomes uncomfortable and put fingers at the base of your penis up to that pint. First I slowly move my mouth up and down then I move down, up and twirl my tongue around the tip, back down.

The next time I move my mouth up I put my tongue against the back of your penis and put pressure on that side with my tongue while my lips still encase you. Again I twirl around at the top. I do this several times, then move my tongue to front and do the same. It is a slow movement, not meant to move towards release just yet, but to excite, to make you more aware of all the possible sensations you can have in your penis.

I quicken the pace a little, using my tongue at the back, the tip, the front, then do it over again, moving a little faster. With your wrists trapped you can only reach out to lightly touch my shoulders, but as I look up at you with my mouth on your cock I can see your head is tilted back, that you are in the moment. I tighten my lips, my tongue starts to swirl faster, my mouth moves faster. I feel your whole body tense, then you release and I can taste you, salty in my mouth as I swallow you in. After you have released yourself into my mouth, slowly I release you from my lips. I look at you, your emotions, your being, raw, uncensored, honest.

I revel for a moment that I have taken you to that place. Then my fantasy fades. Vaguely I ache for my own release, which is for another fantasy. Maybe even another letter.

I know there is more to you than what you show at the office, but I have no right to catch anything more than fleeting glimpses of what more you have to offer. Still each day I fantasize.

Thank you for reading the letter I put on your door.”

He finished the letter, hard, intrigued and looking for a signature that was not there. He finished his glass of Pinot Noir with a few more sips and then went to bed. He could have jacked off, he should have jacked off, but he wanted to savor the fantasy that was in the letter. That night his dreams were vivid, of the fantasy in the letter and of the ways he wanted to reciprocate.

He woke up hard. He felt unsatisfied, but had this vague feeling that it wasn’t because of what his body wanted, but because he wanted a face to put with the fantasy, of what she did to him and for the ways he dreamed of reciprocating. He put his feet on the floor, headed to the shower and used his soap, for the first time really smelling it, thinking about how a scent he never really paid attention to was seared into her mind and fantasies. He shaved, taking care and then breathing in the aftershave he had used for years.

Pulling on his boxers, trousers, donning a shirt, even putting on his socks and shoes he was conscious. When he did all this on auto pilot for years, but now he was awake and aware, because he knew she fantasized about details he never found important before. As he drove to work, he was impatient; he wanted to find out who wrote the letter.

He thought of the many possibilities in his office, all were attractive all would have no problem finding interested men in any given bar on any given night, but he did want just any of the smart, attractive, professional women in the office he wanted the one who wrote the letter. He had been smiling through his day for so long, feeling nothing but the need to get the job done and she felt passion. She aroused his passion. For the first morning in years he felt, he was sensitive, even to the pressure of laces that tied his shoes.

He arrived early at work by a few minutes, hung about the coffee pot, looking for one of the women in his office to pay him a little extra attention. He fought back the arousal he felt as he said good morning to each of his female colleagues, but he could find nothing that would give away the identity of the one who wrote his letter. He purposely let his shirt caress against the shoulders of the women he worked with, going over marketing campaigns, suggesting, praising, correcting, but not one reacted with anything other than the detached professionalism he was used to.

At the end of the day he realized that he had abandoned his usual smiling persona and even in search of the writer of the letter, he managed to delve deeper into the marketing campaigns his office worked on. The ideas that day were better, the exchanges bringing better results. He realized that in being fully engaged in each person he was working with, the results were better. Still he didn’t know who wrote the letter.

He knew as he drove home that night he would keep looking for some tip off as to who wrote the letter. When he parked his car, got his mail and then approached the door he hoped for another letter. There wasn’t one. He thought maybe tomorrow, I will see the giveaway that will tell me who, maybe tomorrow I will get another letter.

Velvet

Velvet was tired. She had been dancing non-stop all night and her legs were worn out. Only seven girls had shown up tonight and two of them had bought off the DJ so they didn’t have to dance on stage. That meant only five girls on rotation. The two that had paid the DJ off were with regulars, so they weren’t even really on the floor.

One girl on stage and four on the floor meant that the guys were competing for attention; competing with the twenty dollar bills that they were waving at each of the girls on the floor for lap dances. Competing with the money they were showering on the girls on stage trying to make sure that they would get a visit when she was off stage.

It was three in the morning and after five hours Velvet had $500 in her purse which was not bad at all for a locals club that didn’t have any private rooms. She was just about to call it a night when the manager Darius came up to her. “Miguel is coming in tonight, he requested you again, so you need to stay till 5.”

Velvet sighed, she had a good night and she was ready to go home, but this was not a request, it was required at this point. Miguel was a good friend of the owner, to not stay for him would be a slap in the face of the owner. Still Velvet was tired of Miguel, he broke the rules, pushed the boundaries, and seemed to take liberties he felt owed that other customers would never ask for.

Velvet had been hoping to put off seeing Miguel for a night when she had more energy. She had a plan, but needed a little more energy than she had to put it into play. She wandered over to the bar and asked for a Rock Star, hoping it would help. Next she went to the cage, where the cashier sat and asked for her Sheriffs card. She would need it since she expected to be looking for another place to dance the next day.

She still had an hour and a half before Miguel arrived, so Velvet went back to the floor and made another hundred dollars doing lap dances. Just a little after 4:30 Velvet went back to the dressing room to get ready for Miguel. She opened her locker and pulled out her back pack. Zipped up in a side pocket were some small black zip ties.

She pulled the zip ties from her back pack. Then she grabbed out her warming lotion for her legs, it was her own concoction that she used on nights like to night when her legs were tired and sore but she need to keep dancing. She rolled down her stockings and massaged the mixture into her legs. When she pulled her stocking back up she tucked five of the small zip ties into the lace tops.

She then pulled a pair of black lace boy shorts from her bag. She was already wearing a black boy short tonight, but this one had a little secret that would make it useful in her plan. Velvet touched up her make up and hair and was ready.

She went back out on the floor. The crowd had thinned out; there were only a few customers and a few dancers. The stage rotation was over for the night, so Velvet went to the bar and got another Rock Star. She sat, relaxed and thought about what she was about to do.

Velvet felt it the moment Miguel arrived; she could feel the heat of his eyes and knew it would be only a moment before he was at her side. She drank down the last of her Rock Star as he reached her. He moved her hair aside and kissed her neck. Most patrons would never get away with doing that, but Miguel’s relationship with the owner gave him privileges.

Velvet stiffened, he knew she hated it; that he could do that, which was why he liked it so much. He took a hundred dollar bill and tucked it in her cleavage. She knew the routine. That bought him five lap dances off the main floor in the back where there was a little more privacy. She also knew she would not start of dancing in his lap; he would want a little stage show first.

He walked away from her to the DJ, spoke with him for a minute, gave him a twenty and came back to retrieve Velvet. Miguel went back to kissing her neck, but Velvet knew that others were watching, which would upset the manager, so she stepped from the bar and took Miguel back to the lap dance area.

In this club, lap dances weren’t done on the floor, but in booths in the back. It gave a layer of protection from the police, since no club fully complied with the no-touch rule.

Miguel motioned to Velvet that he wanted her on the little stage in the back, the one surrounded by the lap dance booths, dancing on the pole. The first strains of “Darling Nicky” started a song Miguel had requested. Velvet grabbed the pole, slid down slowly, and bent back so that she was doing a back bend with the pole between her legs. Up, down, up down; rhythmically she moved, creating the image Miguel wanted, one of her moving, taking it in, and making the pole her own.

The power it took to move like that was incredible and Velvet was harnessing it. She looked over to Miguel, he had the look, he was already gone, wanting to have her and to conquer her. Then she took her power, she grabbed the pole and spun, controlled, with grace and sensuality, around and around until she touched the floor.

She landed soft, exactly how she intended. Her left ankle under her ass as she pulled the right toward her; she pulled it up, licking her calf, running her tongue across her ankle. After the tease with the tongue she moved her right ankle behind her head and caressed herself.

From under her lowered lashes she saw Miguel lick his lips, it was what he wanted. He wanted her hot; he wanted to see they ways in which she could push her body. Still, most of all he wanted some control over her.

The strains of ‘Little Nicky” were fading. Velvet was still on the floor, vulnerable and stretched. Miguel was loosening the tie he had worn to work that night. He wanted more, so much more, he wanted ownership.

The next song started, another he had paid the DJ for with his twenty. Maria Maria; Santana. Velvet used the pole to pull herself up. Then the pole became her partner. The quick movements of her feet timed with the music, showing she had some training in Latin dance. The pole was her anchor as she did complicated turns and footwork to the music, moves that though trained, had a primal and innate feel to any who watched.

Half way through the song Miguel could not take any more of just watching her. There was strength and sensuality in the way she moved and he wanted it closer to him. He signaled for her to come down of the stage, to come to him. Velvet wanted to tease him just a bit, so she slid down the pole, slowly, locking her eyes on him. She went down on her knees and bent back until her hair was touching the floor.

It was one of those things that made Miguel single her out, the flexibility and she was showing it off. She pulled herself up one last time, then jumped up and spun around the pole to the floor. She timed her landing so she was at the stairs. She dropped her feet down, stood up and walked down the stairs.

Velvet had focus, she was ready. Five steps were all it took and she was at Miguel. She didn’t give him a moment to think or stall or prepare, she just started moving, dropping down between his legs. Her back was to him and as she slowly stood up she knew she was brushing against him. She stood all the way up, the small of her back at his lips, he could not resist, he had to lick that spot, but the way she moved he only had one brief taste; not what he wanted.

Velvet started the real lap dance, what Miguel wanted from her. The grind, the tease, and the moment he thought he would get to take control. Tonight would be different; her plan was in play, not his. She did all the moves that would drive him where she wanted him. Moved her knee slowly across his crotch, sliding it past his cock, he was already hard. She set her heel on the back of the booth behind his head making it so her pussy was just a couple inches from his face. He would stick his tongue out to lick her, but it was at that moment she would move a way.

She was in the place where she was in charge; it was all about the tease, about Velvet being in control. It was exactly what Miguel wanted, to be in control and right now she had it, he did not. Finally she turned her back to him, bent over and grabbed her ankles. She knew Miguel had been waiting for it so he could take advantage and he did. As she slid back up, he pulled her down so she was seated between his legs.

He immediately started to lick a spot on her neck, a spot he had discovered a few weeks prior. It was something that left her vulnerable in this business. That one exposed spot on her neck that when licked, kissed or caressed would make her react. It wasn’t quite an orgasm, but it looked like one and sent shivers through her body.

Miguel got the control he wanted, licking and kissing that spot. He leaned in “you know I have that pair of panties still, they are under my pillow and I smell them when I go to sleep and when I wake up. It was the best hundred I ever spent, but I want a new pair.” With that he tucked another hundred into her cleavage.

Velvet leaned back so only Miguel would hear her. “I have another pair for you, but I want to do something different with these, I want to use them so I can give you a dance you won’t forget.”

Miguel wanted it, so she took off the pair of black lace boy shorts she was wearing. She straddled him and pulled both of his hands behind his back. She put each had through one of the legs of the panties, then took a zip tie and threaded it through the loops she had sewn into the panties. Miguel did not realize it yet, but he was cuffed so that he could not get out, he was vulnerable.

Now he could not touch her, she really was in control. She started to dance, it was erotic and it was every thing he could want. When she had him frenzied, she decided it was time. She leaned in again “I will be right back, just need to use the little girls’ room.” She sauntered off moving her hips with that promise of more. Once she hit the doors to the back room she went right to her locker. She pulled on her clothes and went to the side door which lead to the regular floor not the lap dance area.

She went to Darius, “I am ready to go, walk me out please.” It was a club requirement; all dancers had to be walked out to their car. Part of her didn’t care that it was required, but still she got the escort because the parking lot could be scary.

“So you gave Miguel what he wanted” There was a hint of accusation in Darius’ voice. “I watched you on the camera, I saw how you reacted to him, I know you want him.” Velvet was not surprised with the way her manager was reacting. He had acted jealous before, just another reason for tonight to be the last at this club.

“Look whatever you saw or though you saw, I don’t care, it is what it is.” Velvet got in her car and put the key in the ignition, she rolled the window down as she started the engine. “You might not get it at this moment Darius, but Miguel was never a choice I had, you told me I had to be here if he wanted me and then complain and act all put out that I do my job, get over it!”

That was all she had to say as she drove away. She knew soon Darius would get it, when he had to find a way to liberate Miguel from her form of bondage, but she didn’t care. For once she would win a round and it was a sweet victory even is she had to find a new gig the next day.

Copyright 2009

Glistening

Sarah had been dancing for hours; her body was glistening with sweat. It was dripping down her temples, her cleavage and her ass. It seemed like every few songs she had a different partner, none of the men on the dance floor could keep up with her tonight.

She was petite only 5’2”, but always wore very high heels giving her legs a much longer look. She had curves and to the casual observer seemed soft. That was where most men made a mistake, because once they got her on the dance floor they discovered her body was built to move with both strength and endurance.

Tonight she had 6 inch heels on; they were a brown sandal with an ankle strap. She always looked for and ankle strap on a shoe, dancing in shoes that didn’t have one was precarious. She had a short brown skirt; it was flippy and full allowing the occasional glimpse of a cheek when she danced hard. Underneath she wore a pink lace boy short, so when her skirt did flip up it kept her covered, but was still sexy.

Her top was a crème wrap around tank. The neck line plunged making the most of her deep cleavage. The crème color set off the hint of olive in her skin. One gold chain adorned her neck at the end was a diamond tear drop necklace. The teardrops of sweat seemed to mimic the shape of the diamond.

She had not left the dance floor in two hours, but it was time for a drink and a bottle of water. She went over to the bar and waited to catch the attention of the bar tender.

“Do you always dance like that?” Sarah looked at the man who posed the question. He was tall with Sandy brown hair, dressed in jeans with a shirt striped in shades of blue, un-tucked with a tan sports coat over it. He had a quirky smile. Sarah liked quirky, it was usually much more interesting than the pretty boy smile most guys had in the clubs.

She winked at him “Sometimes I dance harder, but no one can seem to keep up.”

He looked at her hard, but at her eyes, his gaze didn’t roam across her body. His tongue darted out to his upper lip and in less than a moment was gone. “I would like to try to keep up, at least for a bit. Can I buy you a drink and then we can see if I have anything you like on that dance floor.” Sarah nodded.

He turned around and the bar tender seemed to materialize out of no where. He looked at her, raised his eye brows. “Vodka Tonic. Sara said. He turned back to the Bar tender “two of those and two bottles of water.”

They got their drinks and he guided Sara to a table that was as far away from any speakers as you could get in that club. They sat down. “I’m Eddie.” He said as he extended his hand toward her. “Sarah.” She said as she took his hand and shook it.

“Well now that the formal introductions are over…” He let the sentence dangle. “I have been watching you for a while now. You dance as though you are trying fulfill some need.” Eddie was still looking at her eyes. She didn’t know what to say so she just looked out to the dance floor and drank her water. Finally Sarah looked back “So you think you can keep up with me?”

“Not sure I can keep up, but I can do better than the other guys that you have been dancing with tonight.” He had that quirky smile again and a twinkle in his eyes that said he knew something she didn’t. “How old are you?” he asked.

Sarah laughed, “twenty-nine, but that will be thirty in the next week.” Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Really, so on what day will you be thirty?” There was a visible excitement on his face. My birthday is on October fifth.” Sarah was curious where this was going and why Eddie would be excited by the idea her birthday was coming up.

“I am not going to say it, I am just going to show you so that you know this isn’t a pick up line.” He said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He liberated his ID from it and passed it to her. “Look at the birth date.”

Sarah scanned his ID for name, address, height, weight, hair color, eye color and then her eyes finally landed on his birth date. It was the same as hers, two years earlier, but the same day. She met his eyes and they both started laughing. It was an incredible coincidence.

They talked for a few minutes. They finished their drinks. Eddie looked at Sarah, “I guess it is time to see if I can keep up with you.” With that he held out his hand and led her to the dance floor. It was a Tuesday, so it wasn’t completely packed and they had room to move.

The club was Studio 54, so all the music had a disco house beat flowing underneath. Sarah moved double time to the beat. Eddie held on, not showing off, not taking over, just being her partner and being her anchor. It worked. She looked up at him, “you’re actually keeping up.”

Eddie grinned at her. “Not really, I am just taking the pace you are moving at, cutting it in half and making sure I don’t make you look bad.” She smiled it was an honest answer, not the cockiness she was used to from the guys clubbing in Vegas.

Sarah moved in closer, she was no longer dancing her demons away, but was dancing to bring out his demons. She wanted to push him; she wanted him and wanted him to need her. She slowed down, her body was touching his as she moved; seduction.

Eddie put his hand at the small of her back. He knew there was only so much of this he could take, but he was going to take as much as he could; Sarah seemed to need it.

The music and the beat changed, slowing just a little, but with a bass line that would give a girl an orgasm if she was sitting on one of the speakers. It was grinding music and Sarah was grinding, but not like so many women do, she still had an artistry to it, there was both satisfaction and teasing in her movements.
Eddie knew he wanted Sara in every carnal way possible, but he had no idea how to make that happen so he just kept dancing with her, his cock painfully hard, he kept dancing. Then Sara pulled him off the dance floor, it was time for another drink. He ordered and they sat down again.

Sara leaned in. “Dancing makes me very horny and it has been a long time since I have shared an orgasm with anyone, but I think I would like to share one with you.” Eddie was ready right then, but it wasn’t something that could be accomplished in a night club and he thought Sara could use more than just a hurried bathroom fuck. His place was only twenty minutes away, but by the time they got to the garage, got their cars and got anywhere it would be at least 45 minutes and he really didn’t want to give her time to change her mind.

They were in a club, in a casino, one that had hotel rooms. He didn’t expect to spend that kind of money tonight, but he could afford it. He grabbed her hand “Follow me.”

Drinks in hand they left the club and he guided her to the hotel lobby. He took her to one of the round velvet covered benches so she could relax while he took care of getting a room. It only took three minutes and it was settled, Eddie guided Sara to a bank of elevators, they got in. Since they were alone in the elevator he decided to kiss her. He felt her impatience in the kiss. All of the need, the hunger he saw on the dance floor was manifested in the kiss, she took, sucked his lip into her mouth, teased, licked and made him harder than he was before.

The doors to the elevator slid open and they looked to the placards on the wall to direct them to their room. The door to the room had barely shut behind them when Eddie pinned Sara to the wall, kissing her while she unbuttoned his shirt. Greedy mouths and hands exploring, she finished with his shirt and undid his pants. She slipped her hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, the tips of her fingers making contact with the sensitive tip of his penis, electrifying.

He moved his hand under her skirt and pushed her panties to one side. As his finger found her slit he felt her slick smooth lips, they felt swollen, like his cock. He wanted to just fuck her up against the wall, instead he retreated a step, pushed back. He wasn’t in high school anymore; he had more self control than this.

“I am going to slow down a little, undress you, touch you, taste you, I hope that is okay.” She looked at him and nodded as he took her to one of the beds in the room. Sara sat at the edge of the bed and started taking off her shoes. He sat next to her and did the same, then stood up and removed the pants she had already undone. He took off his unbuttoned shirt, but left his shorts on. He stood in front of her and pulled off her crème shirt. He knelt in front of her and undid her bra, then removed it.

He looked at her breasts, full and natural with nipples that were dusky and hard. Eddie leaned in and licked first one nipple then the other, Sara made the right sounds, the ones that let him know she enjoyed his tongue teasing her nipples. He gently pushed her back so he could remove her skirt and panties. He was still kneeling on the floor; she was at the edge of the bed. He put her feet over his shoulders and slowly licked the inside of her right thigh until he reached her pussy, then he ran his tongue along her outer lip. He could smell her and taste her, she smelled clean and earthy and she tasted slightly sweet, but still that taste that you only find on a woman’s pussy. He did the same to her left side.

“The floor is going to kill my knees, why don’t you move to the center of the bed.” Sara complied with his request. Eddie parted her knees and went back to teasing her outer lips. Then he dipped his tongue into her slit and moved it up to her clit. She squirmed.

“I tend to be sensitive; sometimes it can be too much.” Eddie understood, he moved his tongue to the skin that hooded her clitoris and moved it gently in circles. Sara stopped squirming and moaned instead. It felt good. He slid a finger in her, then a second, she moaned again.

The two fingers in her pussy with his tongue were heavenly, then he crooked his fingers up, massaging her G-spot. It was only a minute and her body was shaking, Eddie could feel her vagina convulsing around his fingers, and then they were bathed in her slick juices. She was so incredibly wet.

“Oh God, I want your cock in me now.” Eddie withdrew his fingers from her; he pulled off his boxer briefs and positioned his penis at her opening. As he slowly slid in he put his fingers to her lips. Watching her taste her own wetness on his fingers while he felt that wetness on his cock was beyond erotic. He slid in all the way, took his fingers from her mouth and brought them to his; he wanted to taste her too.

He was beyond the point where he could hold back from cumming for long, but he wanted to draw it out for just a little bit, so he took slow long strokes. Before he expected it she was orgasming again. She had a dancers flexibility so her ankles were on his shoulders, he could feel her feet flexing, see her toes were curled then there it was the clenching, the milking sensation of her pussy. He stayed slow for just a moment longer, letting her orgasm subside a little, then drove into her with fast strokes. He came and as he did he felt this gush of wetness from her, felt her vagina clench in spasms that were pleasurable enough to keep his orgasm going longer than he had ever experienced.

She was shaking a little, both of them covered in a glistening sweat. He stayed in her for a minute letting her come down. When he withdrew he noticed the wet spot on the bed, it wasn’t just a wet spot, the bed was drenched. He ran his fingers along her pussy, the wetness smelled so sweet, he tasted it; it tasted like the honeysuckle he would pick just so he could pull the petals off and taste the nectar when he was a kid.

He had heard of this before, women who gush, one of his friends bragged about how he could make his girlfriend do it, but this was the first time he experienced it.

“God that was so good and you taste so sweet.” To prove his point he bent down and licked a little more of her sweet juice from her pussy. She shivered at the feel of his tongue.

She sat up and looked at the soaked bed “Oh my… I guess I got everything wet.” Eddie smiled at her “Good thing they put two beds in the room. They both laughed as they cleaned up and then pulled the covers from the bed that they hadn’t fucked in. They were both drained, so sleep was quick.

Eddie thought he was dreaming, but damn he wasn’t going to wake up. In his dream there was this warm wet mouth sucking his cock. It felt good and though he always woke up with a hard on, this was a different kind of hard on; this was a dream hard on, the kind that had caused wet dreams.

Then he felt something tight, wet and hot slide down his cock as he felt a weight straddle him. He opened one eye; Sara was on top of him. She leaned down “Good morning” He wasn’t awake enough yet to really say anything so he just smiled.

He thought to himself, I wish I could wake up like this all the time as her pace quickened. Soon she was riding him at a frenzied pace and he was ready to explode into her. She threw her head back and arched, then he felt her spasm and he joined her in an early morning orgasm.

She fell forward and just lay on his chest a moment. “I have to go, I need to get home and get ready for work.”

“You have to work this morning, but you didn’t really sleep.” Eddie wanted to keep her in bed all day. “No worries, a couple Rock Stars and I will be fine.” She started to move off him and dress.

“I want your number.” Eddie got out of the bed and went to his pants pocket where his phone was. She called out her number as she dressed; Eddie dialed and was satisfied when he heard her phone ring. She finished dressing and went to the door.

Eddie smiled, “I’ll see you around.”

Sara walked out of the room and headed to her car. Before she got there her phone started ringing “It’s Eddie, you know one night of you is not going to be enough.”

Sara thought it wasn’t enough for her either. “Really, well what are you doing tonight?”

There wasn’t even a beat before his reply “Spending it with you.”

Copyright 2009

Winters Song

The winters in Seattle are gloomy. You wake up to go to work in the darkness and go home from work in the darkness. Often when the light started to filter in through the clouds it would only reveal a thick wet fog. The atmosphere always felt a bit heavy and breathing in the chill water droplet filled air left ones lungs feeling heavy.

The whole city had a wet earthy smell punctuated by the aroma of coffee and clam chowder depending on what street corner you were on as well as the occasional scent of diesel from the busses that were ever present in the city.

During the few daylight hours, as you walked the streets you were hit by the grayness of it all. They gray pavement, the gray buildings, and the gray skies, even the Puget Sound took on a shade of gray that made the waters look dark and turbulent, a shade of gray that made the vast waters look lonesome.

So many thought of Seattle as a bastion of lush green trees, but not in the heart of the city; there it was a cold austere concrete jungle. True the unique shops, restaurants and clubs broke up some of the mundane repetitive sky scrappers, but still on those winter days the city seemed to have been colored with a box of gray crayons.

Sarah was like so many other early thirty something’s in the city. She lived in a condo and walked or rode the bus most places even though she had a nice little Volkswagen Jetta parked in the underground parking lot of her condo. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to drive, but with city traffic it was usually faster to walk or hop on a bus. She used her car mostly to drive out to the suburbs to visit her family. The suburbs were where green abounded and rather than depress the gray skies seemed to make the hues of green more vibrant and rich.

Sarah was part of the phenomenon of Seattle, career minded thirty-somes who were not married unless it was to a career. She had relationships, but they were transitory, shallow, gray. She had the same routine every morning; she left her condo at 6:30, walked to the coffee shop, then hopped on a bus for the few miles to work, arriving in the office shortly after 7 and well before the required 8am start time.

Her condo was off 4th & Wall Street; she could see the Space Needle, Monorail and Science Center from her window. Her coffee shop was one block up and had angel’s wings as part of its logo. She could frequent the Starbucks around the corner from her office, but the one she liked had a quirkier clientele, one she didn’t fit into, making it her one rebellion.

Seattle had its own dichotomy, the conformist up and coming yuppie sect and a rich melding of off beat, underground artists and beatniks. Sarah was an up and coming wearing a suit to the office with her heels and precise hair cut. She liked to claim that she went to that particular coffee shop because it was so close to her building, but honestly it was a walk a block and a half north of the direction she needed to go in order to go to work.

Her real reason to go to that coffee shop was Matt, a philosopher who was there every morning. She would pretend to read a newspaper while he talked with his friends about the politics and philosophies of the day. She occasionally said hi, but beyond that never showed that she recognized him or listened to what he had to say. To Sarah, Matt seemed free. He thought outside the box and had passion. In part it was what she wished she could be. He seemed to live in color while she matched the cities winter gray, a gray that was taking a turn for even more gray.

Each year in Seattle for at least a few days the city is almost sent to a stand still by snow. Some years are worse than others, but it is never really a lot of snow when you compare it to cities on the East Coast. It is not really even the snow that is a problem, but the way that the ice forms, with slush on top of it and then a layer of snow. At night the whole concoction freezes over and you add a new layer of slush and snow. The slippery mess quickly becomes impossible to navigate on all of the steep Seattle hills and you end up with a city where all of the offices have closed early and the streets become deserted.

This morning as Sarah went to the coffee shop there was some ice on the ground and a light snow was falling. She ordered her triple, grande, non-fat mocha with no whip cream and sat down with her paper open to the business section. Matt was sitting in his usual spot with a few others and they were talking a about affirmative action. As usual with these discussions there was no black or white and in this case more of a comparison between evils to determine which was the lesser disease to have eating away at society; affirmative action or the subtle prejudices that made some believe such a program necessary.

As Sarah got up to leave it was obvious this was not a debate that would be settled that day, but as usual all the perspectives were interesting. She headed to the door and as she left Matt’s eyes seemed to lock on her and he gave her cheers with his cup of coffee. Sarah had not expected his gesture and became a bit flustered going out the door, took an unsure step and found herself on her ass on the sidewalk. She got up, tried to muster up some dignity only to take two steps and find herself on her ass all over again.

This time she just sat there for a moment, stunned by the pain, feeling humiliated and feeling the cold of the ice and snow penetrate her coat to further make her bottom sting. She looked back into the coffee shop and noticed Matt had gotten up and was coming her way. She looked at his eyes and shook her head. She could not bear the humiliation of being helped up on top of having fallen down twice. He got her message and went back to his group of friends. Sarah got herself up and brushed herself off and very cautiously took a step. She got her footing, slippery as it was and made her way to the bus stop, then to work.

As the morning hours wore on Sarah looked out the window and saw that the snow had turned to a rain of ice and slush. She decided it would be a good day to take lunch at her desk. She enjoyed walking down to Pike's Place for lunch but trudging through the slush on a day like this was not worth it, not even for a bowl of brandy laced clam chowder. A sandwich and bland cup of soup from the deli in the lobby would have to suffice.

After lunch, as Sarah sat at her desk, she felt like the paperwork she was doing was as distasteful as trudging through the slush. Actually she might prefer the slush at the moment. The day seemed to wear on, it was drudgery. The phone jangled and startled Sarah, the office was being shut down, management wanted people home and off the roads before the slush froze again and the weathermen had predicted a snow storm coming in that night.

Sarah hung up looked out the window again, though she wanted to go home, maybe curl up and read a book; still she felt that she had to finish the paperwork she had been doing before she could leave. When she next looked up an hour had passed and it was already starting to get dark. She got her coat and purse and then went to the elevators. The building felt deserted and as she exited the elevator in the lobby she realized that she might be the last on there other than the one security guard that was letting her out and shaking his head at her or maybe he was shaking his head at the mess of the sidewalk she was about to step onto.

The biting cold wind hit her hard. The wind was whipping up some of the slush snow mix, turning some of it into tiny ice daggers that stung Sarah’s face. She went up a block to the bus stop. This time of day the busses ran every 15 minutes. She waited 30 minutes and nothing. She started to think about walking home, but then she saw a familiar face approaching the bus stop.

“I see you also ignored good sense and worked later than you should have, seems we have that in common tonight.” Matt was slouched back in his winter coat, trying to get some protection from the winds icy fingers. “How long have you been waiting for the bus Sarah?”

“About 30 minutes now. How did you know my name?” Matt smiled at her then looked up and down the street.

“I heard one of the baristas at the coffee shop call you Sarah, so I assumed that was your name.” Matt checked the street once again and sighed. “With the weather this bad the busses might be running only the emergency route, this stop isn’t on it. We will have to go down a few streets to catch one, though there could still be quite a wait since they don’t run as frequently on the emergency schedule. Or we can see if there are any taxi’s over in the Valet at the Bank of America Tower. I live near the coffee shop, I expect you do as well, we could share.”

All Sarah wanted was to be warm again. “I don’t think I like the odds of how long a wait will take with the busses, I say lets go see if there are any taxis.” Matt nodded and they headed off towards The Tower. As they walked the snow started to fall, big wet flakes that started falling faster and faster. In the wind the snow looked almost as though it was falling sideways.

There were a few taxis at The Tower so Sarah and Matt got in the first available. After discussing addresses they decided Sarah would be dropped off first. The cab driver was friendly and chatted about how bad it was getting as he drove the first few blocks. Then they came to the flashing lights and police officers redirecting traffic around an accident. It meant that they had to go down a street with a very steep hill. It changed their route and put Matt’s apartment as the first stop rather than Sarah’s.

As they went down the hill the taxi skidded, swerved and lost control several times; narrowly missing the cars parked on the side of the road. The taxi driver alternately cursed and muttered to God. The driver had told them earlier how he had the best chains on his taxi that money could buy, he was proud because he thought the better chains would mean he could keep working past when other drivers called it quits. It seemed on a night like this it did not matter; all cars were sliding in the icy, slushy snow.

They made it down the hill and turned right. Now it was just a straight shot down the road, a little over two miles and then they would be at Matt’s apartment, but then the taxi had to make it up another hill to reach Sarah’s condo.

The taxi reached finally reached Matt’s building. When the driver stopped he let them know there was no way that he would make it up the hill and let them both off there. I know this is forward and normally I would never suggest such a thing, but there is no way you are going to make it up that hill tonight, Sarah, would you come home with me tonight.”

Sarah inhaled sharply, which Matt interpreted as shock “No, no no! I promise I am only offering because of the snow. I have a spare bedroom, you can sleep there. It is just that I see you every day and I know how dangerous it would be for you to try to make it up that hill walking tonight. I feel like I am connected to you and I just want to offer you shelter on a very bad night”

Matt was rushing his words. Sarah knew her reaction was making him defend his intentions, but really she was just excited and surprised that he would let her into is home, his sanctuary, his world. “I didn’t think you were up to something, I am just surprised that you would offer me a place to stay, even under the circumstances.”

“Well or course; so now that it is settled let us get out of this horrid torment the weather gods have let loose on our city and get warm.” Matt smiled at Sarah and offered her a chivalrous arm as they went into the building.

They went into the building; it was one of the smaller, older, more flavorful buildings of the city, with hand panted tile murals around the shops that occupied the ground level. They went to an elevator, where Matt pushed the button for the top floor, which was only the seventh, but still it was the top floor. They exited the elevator and Sarah realized Matt’s was the only apartment on that level.

Matt opened the door and Sarah found herself in a room that was tasteful and well appointed. The Dinning room had a full size table with six chairs, a side board, a china cabinet and small beverage service that displace one of a kind hand crafted wine glasses, and the furniture did not all quite match, but was all in hues of Cherry Wood, complimentary to one another.

In the living room, Sarah found overstuffed chairs in a deep olive color, they were not velvet, but they had some of the same qualities, but in a coarser weave. They were accented with pillows in a shade of plum; combined the couches felt like the natural beauty you would find in a vineyard. The coffee tables were wood and glass, again a cherry hue. The walls were decorated with artwork that seemed to come from all over the world, prayer rugs from India, African Masks, Egyptian Papyrus and what appeared to be a Monet.

“Your home is beautiful.” Sarah didn’t know what else to say. Here she had been working for a life that would give her the ‘things’ that would make her happy, but that perfectly matched, perfectly planned out space had never felt like a home; this did.

“Thank you.” Matt watched her face, watched her take it in and knew, at least for tonight she belonged here. “The guest room is through there, go ahead and make yourself as comfortable as you can. There are toothbrushes and other things in the bathroom. I kind of have an open door policy with my friends so I am always stocked on the things they might have forgotten.” He smiled as her as she went through the double doors to the guest room to explore and use the bathroom.

When she came back out with her shoes and coat off and hair combed, he was making something in the kitchen. The smell was oregano and garlic. “What smells so good?”

Matt smiled; “I thought you might be hungry, just throwing together a pizza.” She walked over to one of the stools at the breakfast bar to sere what he was up to. He was indeed making pizza with what looked like sun dried tomatoes, spinach, artichoke hearts, mushrooms and then he added some garlic and lots of cheese, followed by a mix of spices that had to include copious amounts of oregano.

“Dear god that looks good.” Sarah has frequented Romeo’s Pizza and what Matt was making seemed like something right off the menu. He put it in the oven and then looked at her.

“I didn’t have anything fancy for tonight, but figured it would do. I will be tossing together a salad too.” He smiled and it turned Sarah inside out.

“To me that looks pretty fancy to me, I think I might have some Yoplait and Orange juice in my fridge.” As she spoke Matt opened a bottle of wine, a nice Robert Mondovi Cabernet Sauvignon. He poured two glasses, sipped one while he handed her the other. She was a sweet white wine drinker, but she took a sip and found it pleasant, warming.

“Today is usually when I do my shopping. Guess I never thought that my simple was less than simple to anyone else. Regardless, I do hope you like it.” Matt gave her a cheers like he did that morning, but this time he touched her glass with his.

Crystal, Sarah was saying to herself, his wine glasses are crystal; it was that pure high tone of the glasses clinking together that was unmistakable. He left her to her wine while he put the pizza in the oven and started on the salad.

Sarah mused to herself, about her own life, about Matt, about the snow, about whether anyone at work would notice that she did not miss today’s paperwork deadline despite the weather. As she thought to herself, strains of music kept invading, and then she realized that Vivaldi was wafting through speaker through out the room.

“Nice music, The Gloria Cantata.” She stated still in her own mind and own reflections. “Hmm, yes it is Vivialdi, I love to play this on stormy nights, it is rich, complex, and full of dichotomies.” He had set the table and was just pulling the pizza out of the oven. He motioned her to the table while he cut the pizza

She looked over and realized that while she was deep in thought he had set out dishes and silverware for two, at one end of the table, the one nearest the windows and the view of The Puget Sound, facing each other. She went and sat down. He brought the pizza over and sat himself down across from her. He reached over for the salad, but did not serve himself, first he served Sarah. An herb garden mix, with feta cheese, raspberry hazelnut vinaigrette, and pine nuts, she took a bite. It was so much more than expected. He dished a portion up for himself.

As they ate they talked. Sarah opened up. She talked about the things she had done in high school and college, the talents she had, the theater she loved. Things no one in her corporate word seemed to care about. Things Matt wanted every detail of, especially the talents, the passions, the quirks she had given up for the perfect corporate life. A corporate life she was becoming disillusioned with as she saw the glass ceiling.

He talked of his travels around the world, the philosophers and Prophets he had met. His family and view of that glass ceiling. By the time that Matt cleared the table they were into a second bottle of wine and three hours had passed. There was nothing more natural to both of them than to move the wine and conversation to the living room. Then Sarah noticed the telescope. “Now what can you watch from here, with that.”

Matt moved over to it and Sarah followed. “Well mostly I look out at the stars over The Puget Sound, or I look at the ships and boats on the water, but now and then I spy on the people in the buildings around me.” As Matt spoke he showed her some of the stars, obstructed as they were by the continuing snow storm. He then moved on to one of the ferries slowly making it’s way on the troubled waters, then to the nest building where there was a couple kissing. “They do that each night; they kiss for almost an hour, and then make the most passionate love, always with the window open. They have ‘it’. They see each other, they see into each other.”

He said the words, he looked at her and Sarah felt that he saw into her. He, more than the friends she had superciliously connected with through the years, knew who she was. She waned more of that connection, more of the fire. She reached her hand out and placed it against his cheek. She pulled him toward her, closed her eyes and kissed him.

Matt responded. He put his arms around her and pulled her into the kiss she started. Matt guided her to the couch and they melted into it. Their tongues did a dance, neither trying to win dominance but each meeting the other, where one wanted more, the other gave more.

As they kissed Matt could not resist, he undid each of the buttons on her blouse. He then could touch her skin. She had been wearing silk but the feeling of her skin was softer, more erotic, more anything that he had ever felt. It was connection.

Sarah had put her hands under his sweater and moved it up. She broke the kiss to move it over his head. Then they were bare skin to bare skin. Intoxicating, for her it was the smell of him, cloves and almond. She touched him; she inhaled him, kissed him. Then she moved her hands to his belt, fumbling, kissing, trying again, halting, but then she had it undone. Her intention was clear.

Matt stood up, held his hand out, beckoning her to take it. She did. He lead her to a room that was not a guest room, it was his room. He laid her on the bed, a bed that smelt of cloves and almonds. Matt reached behind Sarah, his hand behind the small of her back, pulling her center towards his. He undid the clasp and zipper of her skirt, slid it down her hips, down her legs, kissing the path that the fabric had touched on its way down; Turning a practical function that took seconds into a sensual function that took minutes.

He then returned to the top and then removed her stockings, kissing his way down, while somehow along the way kicking off his own pants. Then he had moved back on top of Sarah, supporting much of his own weight, but still on top. Then he rolled, pulling her on top, giving her the power to choose.

On top of Matt, in control, Sarah lightly bit his ears, his neck, his nipples, then returned to his lips to kiss and lick and bite them. Then she slid her panties off, slid his boxer briefs down and poised herself to slide down him.

“Sarah, dear god, I want you to, but you don’t have to do this.” Matt wanted Sarah needed Sarah, but she was worth more to him than to seduce her and he was afraid he done that.

“I want you, I want this.” That was her reply as she slid down his cock. Wet, tight and needing him. Sarah rode him shuddering, shaking, orgasming. Matt took all he could, but he needed deeper, he needed to be over her, looking down into her eyes as he moved within her. He wanted, at least for a moment to posses Sarah.

As he maneuvered her under him he removed his boxer briefs. Then he slowly slid in her and kissed Sarah. He kissed her deeply, as deeply as he was moving in her. She moaned, started to tighten, he resisted, kept sliding into her. He moved down, kissed her and then thrust more deeply.

She clung to him, pulled Matt in, tightened more.

Sarah screamed. She writhed. She orgasmed completely. As she did Matt could not hold any longer, he trust as deeply as he could and then hid penis was convulsing, shooting, spraying the walls within Sarah with himself, pieces of him of his DNA. It did not matter to either; they just wanted to be complete with each other.

As Sarah’s orgasm subsided, she started to cry. Not just a tear here or there, but big wet tears riding down her cheeks, sobs choking her. She wasn’t sad, she was fulfilled, but still she was crying.

Matt had collapsed by Sarah, his cheek touching hers. He felt the tears falling down her cheeks and felt his own that matched hers. Matt moved up on his elbows. He looked at Sarah. “It’s okay, it’s right. It is more than a physical release, it is an emotional release.”

Sarah could only nod. Matt moved behind Sarah and held her. Each found sleep and warmth with each other.

In the early morning hours Matt’s alarm went off waking both of them up. Sarah got up an out of bed. She stood naked in front of the window looing at the city. It was a city blanketed with snow, but it looked, fresh, it looked new, the white had banished the grey and it seemed like a different city.

Sarah and Matt called into their offices only to find both closed. Then went back to bed, they shared more of those details that most of us never share with anyone. They made love they slept. They did this over the weekend until Sunday afternoon the snow melted and Sarah could make it up the hill.

Monday morning at the coffee shop, Sarah had steeled herself, expected only a cursory glance. Instead once she ordered her Latte, Matt pulled back a chair for her. “Everyone this is Sarah and I pray to all the gods I believe in that she will join us every morning for coffee and every night with me to, well….” Matt blushed at his own thoughts, but Sarah sat down as she shook all the hands offered her.

Matt leaned over “I mean that, I want you with me every morning and ever night. You are incredible, talented and if you can make your own rules, there is no glass ceiling.’ With that he kissed her on the cheek and put his arm around her.

Sarah stayed late at the Coffee shop and didn’t show up to the office until the appointed 8:00 am start time.

Copyright 2009

Boots

She pulled her black socks just over her knees. They were made of a micro fiber and felt like a caress as she pulled them up. She picked up the first boot, pointed her toe and started to slide her foot in. When she got to the bottom, she had to work a little, but then her foot slid in and the boot was seated, it felt good. She pulled the other boot on and admired how the black paten boots encased her white legs.

She was naked except for her socks and her boots. She stood up off her bed and went to the top drawer in her dresser and found a pair of black lace boy shorts. With her boots on it was a bit tricky but she pulled on the panties.

She went to her closet and pulled her black corset from the hanger. She adjusted the ties, just a little tighter and wrapped it around her body. She then worked on the fasteners starting at the bottom. It was a tight fit, making her stand strait, rigid. She looked in the mirrored door of her closet. It was what she wanted, encased and constricted.

She went into her closet again and found a coat. It was black like everything else, but had a slight shimmer. It went down to her ankles and used Velcro to close in front. She smoothed her hands down her body and looked in the mirror once again. She was ready.

She got in her car and slid a CD into the player. Nine Inch Nails started as she pulled out of her drive way. She drove focused and fast. Everything blurred by, it had been twenty minutes when she pulled up to her destination.

She flipped down the mirror and put on a deep red lip gloss. She hit the eject button on her CD player and put the CD in her pocket She turned the car off and took the keys out of the ignition, then opened the door. She set her feet on the ground and looked down at her boots. She was in that space, the boots owned her as much as she owned them, but she needed them tonight, she needed to feel emboldened by them.

She walked up the driveway to the path that led to the door. She took one deep breath and walked to the door, reached out, rang the bell, then she waited for it to be answered.

Derrick hadn’t expected to hear his door bell ring and when he answered it he had not expected to see Nina standing there, but she wasn’t the Nina he was used to seeing. Something was different, she was all in black and her hair was different. He was used to seeing her with a strawberry blond bob that was to the top of her shoulders. Now her hair was chin length, cherry red with a blond streak on each side. He motioned her in.

Before he could really say anything she took off her coat, revealing a corset and panties. His eyes roamed lower and he saw her boots. Shiny black that started a few inches above her knees, his gaze slid down to the four inch heel and pointed toe. He scanned his eyes back up her body. Just looking at her he was almost hard and he had twenty different questions he wanted to ask.

Nina didn’t give him any time to ask anything. She took two strides and went to him. She took one hand and put it behind his neck pulling him towards her. Nina kissed Derrick hard, open mouthed and deep. As she kissed she moved her left knee up his inner thigh, to his cock and rubbed up and down across him. She could feel that he was hard, that just looking at her had interested him, but her knee sliding against him was making him very hard. She continued kissing him, pushing against him, back towards his lazy boy.

She pushed him back making him sit down. Then spun on one heel and strode to his stereo system. She turned it on. Once it powered up she hit the open button on the CD player and inserted her disk. She hit play and cranked the bass all the way up. It was a good stereo system, so when cranked the bass vibrated throughout the room.

She went back to where Derrick was sitting in his chair. Nina moved her booted knee up his right thigh, across his groin and down the left, the she started back. This time she paused and slid her knee up and down his hardened length several times. She leaned over and pushed her breasts towards his mouth but before he could kiss them she bit his ear and his neck and then retreated. Then she placed one of her legs on the top of the back of the chair. It looked almost like she was doing the splits standing up. She moved in and her pussy was in his face, he could smell her and almost taste her. She had him so turned on that he had long ago forgotten about the questions he had.

Nina turned around. She was still between his legs. She bent down grabbing her ankles. All he saw was her white ass in his face. Then, still bent over, she slid her hands back up her legs, up her hips and hooked her fingers in her panties. She then slid them down to her ankles and then picked one booted foot up and slid them over, then the other.

Derrick had to taste; he grabbed her hips and pulled her back towards him. He ran his tongue across her pussy lips. He could smell her; he was ready to taste her. He wanted to run his tongue between her lips, into her so he could drink in her wetness but she took a step forward.

Nina looked back and licked her lips, she gave the look that said it all and she was ready to fuck. She took long strides to his bedroom. Derrick followed; when he got to the room she said one sentence “I want you naked.” He took everything off; she walked up to him, slid her body up to his and then pushed him back on the bed.

She straddled him and grabbed his wrists, pinning them over his head. It wasn’t that he couldn’t escape her grip, but for the moment he didn’t want to, he wanted to see what was next.

Nina rubbed his cock against her pussy, getting the tip wet with her juices which were dripping from her. She had never been so turned on; she had never been in charge like this. Once Derrick’s tip was wet she moved so that he was just at her opening.

She slid down just so his head was inside her and stopped. She squeezed the muscles of her opening on his cock, then just paused for a moment and she slid all the way down to his balls. She slid up very slowly then slid down even more slowly and when she was back down to his balls she flexed the muscles in her pussy again, but this time it was not just his tip being squeezed but the entire length of his cock.

Derrick wanted to just start moving inside Nina, to fuck her, to take control so he could get what he wanted; she was not going to let him. At first this frustrated him, but then he started to feel a fire that he wasn’t used to. He was becoming more aroused, it felt like his cock was hardening beyond the norm for him, and each stroke was becoming more pleasurable, more frustrating, more intense, and most of all making him simply want more sensation while he lost his desire for control.

Nina was concentrating, moving her body so that only Derricks head was in her pussy. They were quick small movements, made to madden, to intensify his arousal. Then after thirty seconds of the quick small movements she would slide all the way down and take all of him, slowly very slowly, slide back up; just a few strokes, followed again by the quick short strokes.

Usually Derrick would have come already, but the way Nina was fucking him, he couldn’t come, the sensation was more intense than he could ever remember. Then her movement changed and it took a cadence, full strokes, but faster with none of the teasing short strokes between.

Nina was enjoying her power, and she was well over the edge in her pleasure. She had orgasmed several times, but still was keeping the pace and changes in rhythm so that Derrick could not come, but now she was ready for more and she started to ride him. Some primal part of her had a need a need she could not ignore.

Derrick was feeling only pleasure intense and sweet and nothing he had ever know before; Nina leaned down and bit him hard. He fought her bite, but she was not going to be dissuaded. She finally let go, but then bit him again. He was feeling intense pleasure with the sting of her bite. He kept trying to push her bite away, but it only made her more determined and her bite harder.

The harder she bit him, the harder she fucked him. Even with the pain, Derrick was right there, were it would not take but one right stroke for him to come. Nina’s pace became frenzied, then she was there, this was the orgasm she needed. She threw her head back and screamed.

Derrick felt the pain stop, he heard her scream, then felt her pussy convulse around him hard. He saw stars burst in his head as his come shot into Nina, the intensity to the point that he momentarily blacked out. It was the kind of orgasm he had heard rumors about but had never experienced. They were both shaking.

Nina dismounted from him. He could see her from the bedroom as she bent over and pulled her panties back on. Then she put on her jacket and walked out the front door.

The next morning Derrick woke and felt like maybe it was just some weird dream. He went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, there were five distinct bite marks and some looked like they would take a couple weeks to heal completely. He was marked, he now belonged to Nina. He thought back trying to remember each moment and he was getting aroused at the thought of what happened, the thought of Nina taking control, the thought of belonging to her.

He went and got his cell phone and dialed her number. There were a couple rings, a pause and more rings, his call was being forwarded. Then Nina’s voice came on the line, but it wasn’t her, just a voicemail message.

“Hello Derrick. I am sure I left you bruised last night. The bruises on your chest are no different than the ones you left on my heart; it is just that you can see yours and I can only feel mine. I am done with you bruising me, I am done with you.”

The line went dead. He dialed back and got a disconnect message. Derrick sat down in his lazy boy. He had lost someone incredible and he would never be the same, the night before had done something to him.

Copyright 2009

The Game

All of the streets were a blur on his drive home. He wasn’t concentrating on the road or looking out for the other drivers, he had only one focus; getting home.

“Brad, I came home early today, I was too horny to stay at work. I have been lying here, sliding my fingers in and out of my pussy. I won’t let myself come; I am waiting for you to do that. Hurry home.”

That was the message he got on his voice mail at work that afternoon. From that moment, he was hard and just wanted to get home to Jane to fuck her. He had tried to leave early but it just wasn’t in the cards that day, so now he was speeding along, praying for green lights.

He fumbled the keys several times as he tried to open the door. He wanted in so badly that it seemed like his own keys were conspiring against him. Finally he got the door open. Jane was laying on the chaise lounge splayed with two fingers sliding deep into her pussy.

She was in the mood to drive Brad over the edge, when she heard the keys in the door she made sure to be picture perfect for him; legs wide, fingers deep, lips parted. As he opened the door she saw the flushed look on his face, saw that his tan suit had a dark spot from the pre-cum leaking from his already hard dick and she knew all of her well laid plans for the night were going to work.

Five strides and he was smothering her, kissing her as he took off his jacket and loosened his tie. His hands seemed to not be working and he was fumbling with his buttons like he had the keys. She took over, getting her juices all over his silk tie as she took it off him. She licked the places on his chest that her lacquered nails had scraped as she slid each button through the hole.

Brad was in agony, getting un-dressed was taking too long, as she slid each button out he could only think of sliding in; he wanted to be inside Jane. His shirt and tie were off, his belt undone and his zipper down, that was as undressed as he was going to get at the moment.

Jane stopped him just as he was about to slide in, “So you know what day it is?”

He didn’t have to think about, “Thursday,” he replied. Then it hit him, Thursday was game day.

Game day had begun months ago. Jane would try to temp him and throw him over the edge. If he could resist and control himself he got rewarded, if he couldn’t he got punished. So far he had never lost control and never been punished. More than just getting rewarded his holding out often tortured to Jane.

He quickly weighed his options. He was already too far, he needed her too much. He decided this time Jane was going to win the game.
He pushed forward and found himself sliding into Jane. He could not remember her ever being wetter than she was now, hot and wet. After sliding in and out only a few times he was already on the verge trying to hold back, Jane was on there too.

She had thought all day about what was going to happen and what she was going to do to Brad. She had teased herself to the point that she couldn’t stand it. Usually it would take lots of foreplay and Brad prolonging how long he was inside for her to orgasm, but after a few strokes she was there. Her legs started to shake, her body started to shake, she screamed.

Brad could feel her muscles squeezing him and that was it, he let go. It was intense, her muscles kept squeezing him as he came and it pulled on him, pulled every drop from him; drained, satisfied.

“You know we need to shower and get ready.” Brad had collapsed onto Jane and it felt like a Herculean effort to look up at her as she spoke.

“What do you mean?” Brad only wanted to recover and had no idea what Jane meant by getting ready.

Jane smiled, she knew he would have forgotten and now she was going to get to punish Brad in a way he had never imagined. “The cocktail thing your firm is having tonight.”

Brad just groaned, he had completely forgotten. He pushed himself off Jane and headed toward the shower. He turned the water on hot and stepped in. As the steam started to build the shower door opened.

Jane got under the water with him, sliding her body against his. They had showered together many times, but Jane had plans for this shower. She grabbed the soap and started to lather Brad up; his chest, his back, his arms, his legs, she was left with only one part of his body that was not soapy.

She started running the soap over his balls, then his cock. She made sure that she had enough lather then reached over to grab the razor from the shelf, where she had placed it earlier. She started to shave him.

His gasp was audible. This was not what he expected. She leaned up to his ear with the water from the shower spraying over them “Only part of your punishment.” She continued to shave him until his penis and balls were naked and exposed.

They got out of the shower and dried off. She finished more quickly than he did and then started to help him with drying off. When he was dry she sat down and started to lick.

He did not dare say a word. Jane had never shown this kind of initiative. She never wanted to give him a blow job and here she was taking all of him, then alternately taking each of his balls into her mouth and gently sucking on them as well. She just kept sucking on him moving her lips to the base then sliding them to the tip, moving her tongue against his frenulum (go ahead and google that) all along the way. He had come just twenty minutes ago, but he was ready again.

She stopped, looked up at him, “I already laid your clothes out for tonight; we had better finish getting ready.” His frustration was palpable “Just a little of your punishment.” she looked at him and smiled.

It was a smile he had never seen before and it almost chilled him. There was something different about her tonight. It turned him on, but it made him nervous.

He went to the bed where she had indicated that she had laid out his cloths and reached for the boxer briefs she had out for him. He started to put them on.

“Before you put those on I have another punishment for you.” Jane had laid his clothing out strategically so that he would put them on while standing at the end of the bed. Now she gave him a shove so that he was face down on the bed, his feet still on the floor and underwear at his ankles, a very vulnerable position.

Brad was stunned when her hand came down on his ass. Then she started to rub the spot she had just smacked. She moved behind him so that her legs were touching his, while continuing to massage him, pinning him to the bed. Jane had never been aggressive before, this was a new experience.

Jane reached over to get something in the covers of the bed. Then her hand was back massaging him, she started to move in, using her body weight and the angle he was in to pin him down more. She made one swift movement and it was done. Brads gasp was audible, he was trying to get up, but she had him at a disadvantage and even with her smaller size was able to keep him pinned.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Brad was demanding, he was indignant, he was pissed.

“Like I said a little punishment, time to take it, and for you there is only one place you can. Don’t worry it is only a small vibration egg, with a remote.” Jane pushed the button. “You keep telling me how you want to fuck me up the ass, well your turn first, you make it through this tonight and I will let you.”

The vibrating sensation was not bad, it didn’t hurt, but still Brad’s sensibilities were warring. He had been asking for, begging for and pushing for Jane to try the anal thing for quite some time. He was having a hard time accepting that this was okay, but the lure of being able to later turn the tables on Jane and finally get his way won out. He stopped struggling. “Okay you can have your punishment, but if I do this tonight you will have to live up to your end of the deal.”

Jane pushed the button again and stopped the vibration. “It’s a deal.” Jane moved back a little, bent down and pulled his boxer briefs up.
They both started dressing, getting ready for the party. Brad was trying to adjust to the sensations he was experiencing. They weren’t bad, just different, something to get used to. They finished getting ready in silence and went down to the car.

Getting into the car, sliding into the seat Brad felt things move a bit. When the little egg shifted, he felt more comfortable, not so conscious of it. He started the car and pulled out of the garage with Jane sitting next to him. She turned on the CD player and selected one of her favorites, The Chauffer.

She put her hand on his thigh and then slowly moved it upward until it settled on his cock. She looked at him, liked her lips then pushed the button on the little remote. Brad startled at the vibration. Now that the little toy had shifted he felt a completely different sensation, instead of just not hurting, this time it felt kind of good.

Jane pushed the button again and stopped the vibration. “When I do that to you at the party you can’t jump like that.” Brad didn’t know what to say, and they were arriving so he just swallowed and said okay. He pulled up to the valet and handed over his keys. Jane took his arm and they went in.

The party was the usually booze and schmooze. Jane stayed on his arm and made polite noises while he listened to various clients talk about how wonderful they were. Things were the usual until one of the partners at the firm came up to them. The partner wanted to discuss Brad’s career track, Jane pushed the button on the remote again. Brad almost lost it, but somehow kept his composure.

The situation was stressful and erotic at the same time. He needed to make a good impression and project the image the firm expected, but the vibration also felt good. A minute later Jane pushed the button and stopped it. Brad finished with his conversation, he turned to Jane to ask her what she was doing, but before he could say a word she excused herself to get a drink.

As she walked away form him one of the firms biggest clients came up to him. A word from this client and Brad’s career could take off or disintegrate.

Jane watched him from across the room. The conversation looked to be going well, Mr. Timber, the firm’s biggest client, was laughing and smiling and slapping Brad on the back. She couldn’t resist, she pushed the button again. For the briefest moment Brad stiffened, then relaxed again. If she had not known what she was looking for she would have missed it.

She was feeling a sense of power and it was an intoxicating turn on. She was so wet she could feel a bead of moisture start to slide down her thigh. She grabbed another flute of champagne and started walking back towards Brad.

She handed him the glass and introduced herself in one flawless motion. After the introduction and she had a hand free she again pushed the motion on the remote. Brad looked over at her. Though startling for the first couple of moments he had come to enjoy the sensation and now felt a bit of a loss once it was gone.

This went on for a couple more hours, Jane pushing the button, Brad finding the sensation more and more enjoyable. He had to work harder and harder to keep from getting a visible hard on. Thankfully his boxer briefs and the cut on his pants kept it from being obvious as long as he didn’t get a full on erection.

Finally the party was breaking up and they could leave. They walked out and Brad gave the valet his ticket. When the valet walked away to get their car Brad turned to her, pulled her hard against him and kissed her. She pushed the button again and he deepened the kiss. They were standing there in front of the restaurant she dripping wet, he fully hard pressing against each other, both trying to pull something from the other, but unable.

The valet cleared his throat and Brad broke free. They got in the car. When the doors were closed Jane pushed the button again and leaned over to kiss Brad, letting her hand fall to his crotch. Brad felt eyes on him and broke free. He looked out the window and saw several valets watching. He put his seat belt on, shifted his car into gear and hit the gas.

As they drove home Jane left the vibrating egg going. She unzipped his pants and moved her hand inside. She pushed his boxer briefs down so that his cock was exposed. Then she leaned down and started sucking on him.

Brad was glad their condo was so close; there was only so much he could take. He was harder than he ever remembered being. He had accepted that the vibrating egg felt very good and he as ready to come again, but one thing was stopping him.

“Jane you have to stop, you promised me something and you have to stop because I need to collect on that promise.” Jane slowed the motions of her tongue and slowly withdrew as they pulled into their parking garage. Jane stopped the egg from vibrating.

They got into the elevator, Brad hit the button to the 12th floor, then pulled Jane to him. He kissed her and started to undo the buttons at the back of her dress. Jane undid his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt. The elevator dinged indicating they had reached their floor and the doors slid open.

Their clothes in disarray they stepped out. Brad had the keys in his hand, but Jane took them from him and slid them into the lock. They tumbled into their condo and kept undressing each other as they went to the bed.

They finished stripping and he laid her back, his cock ready to enter her anal opening. “Brad, you can’t do it that way.” Jane said and offered him a small bottle of lubricant, the same she had used on the egg that was still inside him.

Brad took it and opened the bottle. He drizzled it over her clit, so much that it slid down; between her lips, the between her cheeks until it was covering her anal opening. Then he again moved against her, until he was poised, ready to breach her. A little resistance and then finally, she relaxed and he slid in. As he slid in once again Jane hit the remote.

Brad could not believe how good it felt, he was getting his fantasy of fucking Jane up the ass and somehow having the pleasure intensified by the toy. He was ready to come. Jane was tightening.

Jane was afraid that it would hurt to finally let Brad have his way, but this did not hurt. She was so turned on from the night, from what she was doing to Brad, from what he was doing to her, she just wanted more. “Yes, give me more, fuck me hard.”

That was all Brad needed, he quickened the pace and Jane tightened and screamed; he came; she came.

Both were done. Jane moved her hand to Brad’s ass and pulled the little egg out. They were done. Brad knew that he would let Jane win more. Sweet satisfied sleep.

Copyright 2009