My work in recruitment had recently exploded and taken on an international dimension, which is how I had come (by a complicated series of seemingly unrelated events) to be in Richmond, Virginia. Far from my home in England and new to the area, the accent, the customs, the people and their closely-woven friendships & inter-relationships.
But here I was in a local bar just around the corner from my hotel, alone and knowing no-one.
The woman seated in the window continually looked across at me as I sat at the counter and sipped at my cold beer. During most of my adult life I'd become accustomed to unwelcome, lascivious stares from men of all ages, but mostly well over my own 40 years. I've had noticeably large boobs since I was 13 and at a firm-and-rounded size 34C they still stand up well to scrutiny (as well as both tender caresses and firm handling).
Being 5' 7" tall yet only 130 pounds and with long, naturally-wavy blonde hair I tend to dress less overtly sexy than some women my age to avoid attracting too much attention. But, working in the fashion world, I always need to look smart when I'm away on business. Today I'd been conducting interviews for a household-name British fashion store chain expanding quickly in the US market so I was wearing a demure but stylish and very well cut suit in jet black wool cloth with a subtle sheen.
'She' was somewhat younger yet of a similar height. About 27 I guessed, much slimmer than me and with long straight honey-blond hair and a pretty face. If we had one thing in common, it was probably that we were both thinking, "What's an attractive woman like her doing alone in a bar like this". We were both soon to find out.
I decided to play. I shifted on my bar-stool so my skirt rode up my legs a little. She watched me. I sat forward slightly on the front edge of the stool, crossed my sheer-nylon-clad legs and swung my foot rhythmically. She closed her eyelids slightly as she continued to watch me, her narrowing, captivating blue eyes darting up and down as she took in the show I was performing.
Holding my tall, cold glass in one hand, I ran a long manicured fingernail of the other hand up and down it's slender tall shape. I drew patterns in the condensation before stroking the top edge round and around then finally slipping the wet tip of my finger into my mouth and half-licking, half-sucking the moisture from it without ever closing my pouting, well-glossed lips. She lifted her chin slightly and moved her head towards me only a fraction but the message was clear: "I'm interested, what happens next", confirmed by the way she ran her pointed tongue along her top lip then back across her bottom lip in a single continuous and highly sensual movement.
She put two fingertips on the side of her chin and rested her elbow on the table. Somehow she managed to take a sip from her cappuccino without moving her hand or diverting her gaze. She left a trace of froth on her top lip, put down the cup and drilled into me with her clear blue eyes.
One of us was going to have to make a move soon and as I always like to seize the advantage, I slipped down off the stool, deliberately dragging my skirt up my legs to expose a glimpse of my stocking tops. Carefully placing one high-heeled shoe in front of the other, I slowly paced the short distance between us carrying my half-full glass in one hand and my Louis Vuitton bag in the other. As I reached the table, I briefly looked at the reflections in the window. Everyone in the bar was watching us but she was watching my every move. I put down my bag on a spare seat and my glass on the table, freeing both hands which I used to sensually smooth down my jacket and skirt.
She made a small movement suggesting she was going to stand up. Why? As a sign of respect? To position herself level with me in both height and status? (I was sure she would be equal to me in both). I lifted a hand to signal 'No' and she stayed sitting.
She opened her mouth to speak but I leaned forward, my jacket lapels parting momentarily. Her eyes left mine for the first time since I had walked into the bar as they darted down to catch a glimpse of my cleavage. I surprised her by putting a slender finger on her lips to stop her from speaking. She took the hint, sat back in her chair and smiled as I sat down opposite her.
I struggled to conceal the shiver of pleasure that rushed though me as I mentally ticked off the first hurdle I had just overcome. She had accepted me into her personal space, albeit with a table still between us, and my mind was already onto my next ambition. I knew exactly where I wanted this encounter to lead but the journey was far from certain. But I had a plan, and as they say, any plan is better than no plan.
I looked at her face. Seeing her now at close range she looked even more gorgeous than before. Her eyes were heavily made up with black mascara and edge-lining accented with blue shadow merging into dusky grey at the outer extremities of her lids, fading towards her temples. Her lip-gloss was subtly pink-to-mauve and her cheekbones where gently emphasized with russet. She had a good sense of colour. Only slightly less casually dressed than me, she was wearing a well-cut white satin dress that was tailored into her slim waist and sat tight on her narrow hips.
The neck was cut in a deep vee, yet it exposed very little breast suggesting she was quite small. The cheeky cap sleeves showed off her arms beautifully and everything was set off perfectly with matching black detailing, belt and accessories and silver jewellery. A woman of style and good taste I thought. A professional woman, a strong woman who knows her mind. Self-confident, with disposable income to spare. Similar to me. I might have a fight on my hands.
The atmosphere was electric and bolts of energy rippled though my body from my brain, via my nipples to my pussy. My plan was taking shape beautifully, and the shape was tall, slim, young, beautiful and sitting opposite me, watched by every pair of eyes in the bar including mine.
You sipped sensually from your cappuccino but I made you spill a little of the hot stimulating liquid when I hooked the toe of my shoe around the back of your ankle, You know how it is when you jump because you are surprised when something happens and even more so when you are anticipating it? Your eyes burned into me as I ran my toe up the back of your calf and back down again. Then up again, a little higher this time.
You knew what the clatter was as I kicked off my shoe and repeated the movement using my now bare-but-nylon-stocking-covered toes. I saw you shudder and for the first time I noticed you close your eyes, lift your chin and let out a gentle sigh between parted lips. You also now knew that this was leading somewhere but you did not know where. Well not until I took out a business card and scribbled on the back: Hotel on corner of Market and West 7th - Cocktail bar - 1 hour. xxx J
I handed you the card, dropped a $20 bill on the table and stood up. You looked up at me coyly with those wonderful blue eyes -- I think a woman looks exceptionally sexy when she looks upwards from under well-groomed eyebrows. You batted your lids in an unspoken acknowledgement and looked down at my card -- I knew you would be there. I could feel the intensity of the atmosphere; the other early evening drinkers watched me as I strode purposefully out of the door into the next stage of my carefully-crafted seduction.
Exactly one hour later I arrived at the front door of the upscale 'Hotel Sapphira', carrying two designer-store carrier bags and hoping I had guessed your size correctly. The doorman recognized me and smiled as I strode purposefully towards the cocktail bar. Well, I was hoping it all had a purpose; I'd have felt totally fucking pissed off if you had not turned up. But I was confident that you would be there. Confidence is something that just comes naturally to me. Positivity brings more positives.
I looked around the bar and sure enough, you were there, perched precariously and provocatively on a tall leopard-skin bar stool ...
The bar was busy with after-work drinkers; some dressed in formal business suits, others in expensive evening cocktail dresses, skimpy tops and skirts, tight trousers and all were very attractive. Even the ones in business suits; as I looked around I realized all of the people in suits were female, all their suits were identical and none of them was wearing anything under her jacket, instead displaying a larger or smaller cleavage. Some wore trousers, others wore short skirts with seamed stockings on show, and all wore very high heels.
In fact, everyone there was female -- not a man in sight and then I realized that even the 'doorman' was a girl, with short black hair and a chiseled, angular face.
One of the other clients was leaning on the bar beside you, looking intently at you and constantly brushing her hair from her face. You did not immediately notice me arrive so I watched from a distance. Your companion seemed very interested in you so I let her gain in confidence for a while, no doubt building up her hopes. She moved her face closer to you and seemed to whisper in your ear.
I seized the moment, strode directly across the floor towards you under the watching eyes of the staff and other drinkers. My heart was beating fast, at least 130, but I was 100% confident of how you would react.
"Hi honey, you look hot, do you want to come up to my room?" I inquired.
As soon as you saw me you smiled at me and replied, "Sure, I don't know your name but I like your approach".
The other woman with you looked like she could kill me with at 100 paces with just a stare but I didn't care. I took your hand to steady you as slipped down off the stool.
I led you through the lobby to the front desk where I collected the key-card to my room -- the suited receptionist smiled at us both as I handed her a folded piece of paper. She opened it, read it carefully then slid it into her top pocket, purring: "No problem, Julia."
As soon as the elevator doors closed I took your head gently between my hands and looked at you intently. Neither of us spoke but your expression told me everything I needed to know.
All too soon the doors opened. The (female) bell captain was waiting to show us to the suite. She opened the double doors and I heard you gasp as you walked in.
"So, you like 1920s Art Nouveau style?" I inquired, adding, prophetically, "I love the classic table lamp designs - they always seem to have a beautiful woman in clinging silk draped over her body."
I walked over to the waiting champagne in the ice bucket, wiggling my ass as I walked, pouring two glasses of ice-cold bubbly and passing one to you. We sipped down our champagne, the ice cold liquid made you shiver. I spilled a small drop and it trickled down my chin and in an instant you wiped it away with your fingertip. I held eye contact just long enough to be sure we were connected and that you were ready to give yourself to me. From that short moment we both knew we were committed to much more than just two people who had recently met enjoying a drink together. The difference was, I knew where this was all going to lead and you didn't -- you just had to trust me.
I opened my mouth and you knew what to do. You slipped your still-wet finger between my lips and I sucked the champagne taste into my throat. I gently bit your finger so you could not remove it, symbolizing the control I so easily exerted over you. You feigned only a weak attempt to pull away.
I opened my mouth and still you did not remove your finger. I sucked on it again and circled my tongue around its tip. Our eyes met again but this time yours were half closed and your head was tilted slightly back. I looked down at your body; your posture had changed subtly. Your demure little white dress could not conceal that your shoulders were pulled back, thrusting your small breasts towards me; your pelvis was tilted slightly, your feet apart a little. All your body language now said: "Yes, I am ready".
But you did not know quite what it was that you were ready for. You may have thought you knew, but you did not.
I walked across to the far side of the hotel room and turned to face you, aware that you were watching my every move, no doubt looking for signs of what I'd expect you to do next to win me. You were also probably wondering what was underneath my suit jacket, and when (if ever) you would find out.
You started to walk towards me. I lifted my glass slowly to my mouth and took a long sip. You pouted your lips as you strutted, hoping that I might kiss you but you were premature, very much so.
I licked the wine from my lips in one continuous movement of my tongue before I spoke, "Fuck you honey, I'll kiss you when I am ready. Get your ass over to the window, slut." We didn't even know each other's names yet.
"Turn around and face me - let me look at you ..."
I quietly admitted to myself that you were quite an exceptional find. I was pleased with my harvest today.
I flicked on the in-room music system and found something sassy and funky. "OK honey, let's see how slut you are ... Strip for me like your life depends on it."
It's at this point that you were most likely to tell me to fuck off and just leave, yell at me and dial the front desk, or .... My heart was pounding as I waited for your response, even though I had little doubt what it would be.
You started dancing slowly, then running your hands on your breasts, down your hips, and lifting the bottom of your dress just enough so I could not yet tell if you were wearing panties, a thong or nothing at all. So who's the teaser now, eh?
You reached behind and pulled the zipper down your back, turning slowly so I caught glimpses of your bare back. Another question as yet unanswered - do you have a bra on?
Slowly you made your way towards me with the top of your dress seductively falling off your shoulders until you were standing barely 2 feet away from me at which point you finally let the dress fall to your waist. I stifled a gasp when I saw that in fact, no you were not wearing a bra, and more importantly, that you have the most gorgeous pair of small, pert, firm young breasts I could ever have hoped for, with dark puffy areole and firm long nipples sitting high and upwards-pointing. I squeezed my thighs together involuntarily, my pussy twitching under my skirt.
In true stripper-slut style, you turned your back to me and dragged the zipper down the last few inches and let your dress fall in a heap of white fabric on the floor. The tiniest narrowest strand of russet-brown material nestled in your ass-crack between beautiful high, firm, rounded cheeks, statuesquely setting off the tops of your long, bare and muscular legs. Runner's legs I guessed. Finally you turned around to show off your full sensuality, the prize still concealed by a tiny scrap of lace fabric that singularly failed to cover even your rounded outer lips, let alone your smooth shaven mound.
You flinched at the first flash, but then responded as I expected, posing in ever more provocative ways as I photographed your exposed, vulnerable but highly desirable body.
So far so good. My plan was working out perfectly. If only you knew how aroused I was becoming by this erotic and highly controlling scenario. But to reveal my heightened state of sexual excitement would be a sign of weakness and could jeopardize my desired eventual outcome.
I picked up the plate of seafood that I'd had delivered with the champagne and walked towards you. You opened your mouth in obedient expectation and waited for me to feed you with the tasty morsels with their legendary aphrodisiac qualities. Although I could at this point have quite literally had you 'eating out of my hand', instead I placed a shelled crevette between my teeth and, taking hold of your obviously-erect nipples between my fingers and thumbs, pulled you towards me for you to take the pink flesh from me with your own teeth.
You tipped your head to one side provocatively but at the crucial moment I pulled back, leaving you disappointed and with fire burning in your eyes. I didn't think this was going to be easy and I was glad you were prepared to put up at least some kind of a fight.
"Fuck you!" you growled under your breath.
"Eventually you will honey, whatever your name is ..."
I felt your nipples harden in my hands.
I laughed and nearly dropped the food but then leaned forward again to allow you to take it. See? I am not so cruel after all!
Holding the plate in one hand, I allowed you to pick up more food with your teeth. How perceptive of you to know I would not allow you to use your hands to feed yourself! But then when I parted my lips, you instinctively knew to pick up an oyster shell with your finely-manicured fingers and tip it's contents into my open mouth.
Swallowing it whole, I licked my lips slowly and sensually, smiled at you and awaited the next salty, slippery, fleshy treat. Again you tipped it into my open mouth but this time I did not swallow it. Instead I pulled on your bare nipples again, dragging you close to me. I leaned forward and engaged your heavily-lipsticked mouth in a long passionate open-mouthed kiss during which I transferred the whole oyster from my own mouth into yours.
I sensed the moment when you swallowed, betrayed by the shudder that ran though your body and your attempts to draw breath, which our long kiss impeded. When I first saw you in the bar earlier that evening I could hardly have dared to hope that you would be so compliant and so well-matched to my needs and expectations.
"You are a good slut!" I acknowledged, and you smiled and nodded in humble acceptance of my compliment. "But you are also a dirty whore, yes?"
"Yes, I am a dirty whore, only for you. I am your filthy slut, my Mistress."
You learn fast.
I led you to the bathroom and ordered you to take a shower.
"Get in the shower and clean up, you dirty bitch. I have plans for us. Come out in 15 minutes and wait for your next instructions."
Of course, you did exactly what I told you, with the nice twist of peeling the tiny thong from your tense body and throwing it at my feet before closing the door to the sumptuous bathroom behind you with a shaking hand.
I cannot know what was going tough your head as you soaped down your slim and firm naked body, no doubt lingering at its most sensitive spots them drying, preening, and applying lotions and creams as you watched yourself in the huge mirrors, preparing yourself for whatever I had planned for you next.
After what seemed like an eternity to you, you unlocked the bathroom door and walked expectantly into the enormous bedroom. You looked around to see where I was and what I was wearing. Would I still be in the same black suit and silk shirt? Will I have changed into something more adventurous and assertive? Or maybe I will already be totally naked, ready for you to serve me.
None of these.
In fact, I had gone.
I was not there.
I was not anywhere in the room. In fact, the room was immaculate just as the maid might have left it. Not only had I gone, but so had your white dress, your bag, your jewellery and your phone. There was nothing in the room that did not belong to the hotel. Except for you, standing in the middle of the large bedroom, totally naked and totally bewildered.
Frantically you searched the room, looking in all the cupboards. Probably not expecting to find me hiding, but hoping to find some clothes to wear. Anything to cover your nakedness
You opened the door into the adjoining sitting room. Huge sofas, an enormous flat-screen TV, a drinks cabinet and everything else you'd expect in an upscale hotel suite. But no personal belongings at all.
You wrapped a towel around your torso, sat on the bed and pondered your predicament. You could not possibly leave the room like this. You looked around for a note in case I had left some instructions but found nothing.
In desperation you picked up the room phone, hoping the hotel staff could help in some way (but how could you explain how you came to be in this state?).
"Sorry, this phone has not been authorized to make outgoing calls. Please drop by the front desk to open this line".
Shit! you thought, just as there was a knock at the door ...
The voice on the intercom announced the identity of the person knocking on your door. You panicked; do you dare to open the door looking like this? Anyway, what if it is not a housekeeper ...
The voice sounded female. You looked though the spy-hole. A tall slender woman in the house uniform of cleavage-exposing jacket and tight trousers stood in the corridor.
"What do you want?" you inquired -- stalling in the hope some clothes would appear from no-where.
"I have come to deliver your laundry"
They just did.
But you did not check any laundry. Maybe it's a trick, a hoax - but she seems to be holding a garment carrier. Do you risk opening the door to her? What will she think if she sees you naked except for a towel? Will she regard this as normal (she must see many stranger things in their hotel rooms) or might she take it as a come-on and make a pass at you, take advantage of you, forcing her way into your room, closing and locking the door behind her and making advances? Maybe that is all part of the plan. But whose plan? My plan? Her plan? The hotel proprietor's plan? Your mind is in overdrive.
"One moment," you called. You wrapped the large hotel towel tightly around your torso and nervously opened the door on the chain. The woman handed you a card though the narrow opening. It read, "As requested, we have you reserved a table for 2 in the restaurant 'Lipstick and Linguine'. We look forward to welcoming you at 8:30 pm tonight."
Puzzled but intrigued, you opened the door and the uniformed woman handed over the garment. It was very light in weight. You thanked her and apologized that you were unable to tip her, explaining that you had mislaid your bag. She looked around the empty room, smiled and looked you up and down. "I guess girls like you can get by in life without needing to carry your own money."
Feeling both insulted and embarrassed, you kicked the door closed and unwrapped your 'laundry'. At least you had something to wear now so you could venture out of the room even though you had no r means of getting home. You had no choice but to dress for dinner. Dinner, but with whom? Me? The Housekeeping woman? The Manageress of the hotel? Your mind was racing again.
Remembering that I had been carrying some designer clothes bags when I 'fetched' you from the bar, and that I did not have them later when we arrived at the suite, your mind began to work overtime. Unable to resist, you unzippered the garment carrier and tipped its contents onto the bed. Which wasn't very much.
No doubt your first thought was "What exactly is it?" For certain, from the look and feel, it was silk, and not just any silk but the finest, sheerest, highest quality flawless of silks in a sexy dusky pinkish-grey shade. Certainly towards the top end of the slut-to-sophisticated scale. But what was it, and how were you supposed to wear it?
You picked it up by what looked like the top and shook it. It boasted several narrow strips and straps but very little substance. Eventually working out which way up it should be worn, you slipped it over your head, threaded your hands though where you guessed your arms were supposed to go, and wriggled it down over your otherwise naked torso.
Not very far down, actually.
Looking at yourself in the bedroom mirrors, it could better be described by what was missing rather than what was there. Only the narrowest of straps traced spaghetti-thin lines over your shoulders, ending part-way down your 34B (could easily be A-cup) breasts. From there, only slightly more substantial strips of material broadened gradually from next-to-nothing, following downwards over the curve of your cute breasts and then joining roughly at your navel, leaving a gaping vee from your neck right the way down between your breasts and over your midriff. From there down to the very tops of your slim but firm exercise-toned thighs the diaphanous material struggled and barely succeeded in covering your shaved pussy mound at the front.
At the sides, from under your arms down to your ass a wide strip of your tender delicious flesh was left exposed, but for a few narrow and almost useless strips of silk joining the front of the dress to the back, none of them lower than your 23-inch waist.
Even that is an overstatement, suggesting that there was in fact a back to the dress. In reality, an open vee shape plunged from your neck and shoulders down your bare back, ending so low as to show off at least the first 4 inches of your gorgeous, tight and firm ass crack. Little more than 6 inches of light, dusk-pink material clung to your hard, rounded ass-cheeks before it too ended more-or-less level with your crotch.
And that was only when you were standing still, shoulders down, back straight and pelvis level.
You reached down to see if there might be even the tiniest of thongs in the carrier, but no such luck. And as you did so you realized the obvious: the dress would ride up your ass and exposed your pussy to anyone who might be behind you.
If you squatted the side splits parted and the material disappeared between your long legs.
If you dared to turn or lean to one side the straps slipped off your shoulders.
When you walked, the whole dress fluttered in the gentlest of breezes and was as likely to reveal your nipples, your pussy, or both.
It was the merest token gesture of a dress, and you sweet darling would be going to dinner in it, and nothing else.
You had no choice.
You were nervous, scared and confused. But you also had to admit to yourself that you were turned on and very, very excited.
Taking a deep breath you opened the hotel room door, noticing the fire instructions on the inside, "Do not stop to collect your personal belongings." No problem there -- you didn't have any.
A wry smile crossed your face. 'Someone' (on my instructions) had been thoughtful enough to leave a pair of strappy silver sandals with 4" heels outside the bedroom door -- you slipped them on and tottered along the corridor. You flinched as you heard the room door latch closed behind you. There was no going back now; you didn't even have a room key.
The first challenge was going to be taking the elevator. You pressed the button and waited for it to arrive, hoping that it would be empty. The light signalled its arrival. Your heart leapt as the doors slid open ... but fortunately there was no-one inside. The lift car began its smooth rapid journey down to lobby-level. As it approached each floor your heartbeat skipped -- would it pass on, or stop for an unknown stranger to step in and join you? Only that, or to stare at you, hit on you, touch you, slip her hands inside your dress, slip it off your shoulders, letting it drop on the floor, skimming her hands over your naked body, maybe caressing you or even kissing you, fingering your pussy, pulling your nipples. Oh god no, what if she was ugly? Or more to the point, what if she was gorgeous?
Your imagination was running away with you and you were startled when the doors suddenly opened at level 0.
The noise, the bustle and the excitement hit you as you stepped into the hotel lobby. There were people everywhere; alone, in pairs and in small groups and huddles. In the time that you had been up in my room the hotel had become much busier. It was now 8:15 and women were checking in, meeting friends and generally doing what people do in hotel lobbies. Except of course, as you had already realized, they were all female. Not only that, but at first glance they were all impossibly gorgeous. The way they dressed, the way they stood, walked, moved, stood, kissed, held their drinks, ran their hands though each other's hair, it was an assault on your visual senses and you my darling were now one of them. One of us. A member of an elite.
You took another deep breath and stepped out into the throng. Looking around you caught sight of a sign directing you to the restaurant. Across the lobby and through the bar. You began to walk purposefully in that direction, but your usual self-confidence was fast ebbing away. The high-heeled sandals were unfamiliar and you tottered rather than walked. You were, of course, highly conspicuous and very self-conscious in that slip of a tiny skimpy revealing dress. And those eyes. Everywhere were eyes, looking at you, from your feet, up your legs, over your scarcely-concealed body and up to your face, then all the way back down again. Appreciative eyes, admiring, winking eyes and smiling lips blowing kisses. And not just the guests, but the uniformed staff too.
As you stepped carefully though the throng in the bar you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned a little and a tall blonde woman put her fingertip under your chin and looked into your eyes like she was sizing you up. You smiled nervously and she ran her long manicured nail down your neck and between your breasts. You pulled away, torn between staying to see what happened next and keeping your rendezvous in the restaurant.
As you turned away you heard her whisper to her friends and could only imagine what they said. You shuddered and continued to push though the crowd. Then another hand on you, this time on your ass cheek. A young woman, younger than you, straight auburn hair in a bob cut, in a shimmering top with spaghetti-thin straps over skin-tight leather trousers. She tried to pull you towards her but another woman's hand took hold of yours and dragged you away. Now you feel a hand on your breast. You're beginning to feel a loss of control and you feel very vulnerable. An employee puts her hand around your waist and guides you across the bar. Together you run the gauntlet of the bustling bar and finally reach the relative calm and safety of the restaurant.
The head waitress smiled at you, bringing you down to earth. "Hello, we've been expecting you. Come with me." In your state of confusion mixed with arousal and nervous expectation, the word 'come', even in that context, caused a wave of excitement to rush though your body down to your pussy. She too was in the hotel uniform of an exquisitely well-cut fitted jacket with just one button holding it closed, somewhere only just above her navel. Her rounded breasts were accentuated by a black bra with very widely spaced plunge cups and only a narrow strip of material stretched taught between them, decorated with what were probably Swarovski crystal glass (could not possibly have been diamonds, but then again, maybe).
She ushered you across the room where, inevitably, more admiring eyes followed your every move. One exceptionally slim woman in a slinky long dress pulled out the chair next to hers and patted it, inviting you to join her. You declined politely then realized that you were not entirely sure why you were there and who, if anyone, you would be dining with. You'd only assumed it would be me.
Whew! Your assumptions were right. The waitress showed you to my glass-topped table, in the far corner, with windows on 2 sides. You looked relieved to meet someone you knew, even though we'd only met earlier that evening. Why should you be pleased to see the woman who'd stolen your clothes, compelled you to dress provocatively and then to display your nearly naked body to a room full of strangers? I know why! Because you enjoyed it, of course.
The waitress pulled out the chair and you sat your bare ass on the cold smooth leather. The expression on your face was a picture and you froze for a moment until your own body heat warmed the soft black hide to a more comfortable temperature. I liked the way you looked at me across the table. The mixture of anger at having been humiliated was tempered by your natural sensuality, your gorgeous facial features and an undercurrent of excitement, arousal & anticipation. Actually, I think you'd rather enjoyed putting your body on display. Just as well.
You tried to speak but your throat was dry. You took your glass of champagne and downed it in one; the waitress flinched, only she and I knew how much just that single glass had cost me. There's very little of that vintage still available.
"Why did you ..." I put my finger on your lips.
"But what on earth did you think ..." you continued, but I interrupted you in mid-sentence by asking the waitress to call you a cab. "You're free to go, they'll lend you a coat" I reassured you.
You sat motionless.
You stared deep into my eyes for what seemed like ages as your mind grappled with the situation. Staying now, passing over my 'last chance' offer meant accepting whatever happened next, and after that and ...
The word 'submission' must have crossed your mind.
"That's settled then," I observed and cancelled the cab. I raised my refilled glass to yours then drank from it, licking the effervescent liquid from my lips.
The tension subsided somewhat as we busied ourselves with the menu. We both chose pasta dishes with mixed salads, olives, freshly-baked Italian breads. On the table there was already some excellent olive oil (from Puglia, where else) and some well-matured balsamic vinegar (from Modena of course) in which to dip it. I think eating with one's fingers is so sensual and a great ice-breaker.
The food arrived; we ate and chatted. I hardly noticed that people were looking at us. Not just the other customers inside the restaurant, but also those walking past the windows, outside in the street. Well, hardly surprising. You nipples were very prominent, poking against your delicate silk dress, and I could see you were doing your best to keep your knees together most of the time but occasionally I'd glance down though the clear table top and catch a glimpse of your shaven rounded pubic mound and your inner cunt lips that were now so swollen that they protruded well beyond your outer labia so I could see them from where I sat, glistening with your wetness.
Normally I adore my food but that evening I hardly noticed its taste. My mind was elsewhere. The next 45 minutes were just a blur of images in my mind, wild fantasies that I acted though in my head until they possessed sufficient detail that I was sure I could translate them into realities. Powerful, stimulating and very, very satisfying realities. Every time I looked at you, interweaving you into my imagined world, your facial expression changed between puzzlement, interest, confusion, concern and even fear. Did my own demeanor give away so much that you could so readily discern my innermost thoughts and desires?
The waiting staff were very attentive and tactile. We were very well served but I think it was more due to their wish to be near to us and to feast their own eyes on your next-to-naked body and to take in the powerful scent of two highly aroused sensual woman that overshadowed the aroma of the food they brought.
You didn't eat much. You seemed to have trouble swallowing. That pleased me. It told me you were ready.
Leaving at least two hundred dollar's worth of untouched food on the table, I settled the bill with my black Passionella charge card and stood up, holding out a hand to help you to your feet. I toyed with the hotel-room swipe card between my manicured fingertips and smiled at you.
You nodded once. That was enough.
But first we had to make our way back though the bar. The music was more quietly-seductive-jazz now, the bar was teeming with even more people, wearing even less clothing than before. Almost without exception, the staff had stripped off their clothes and were now wearing only their black bras and panties in various styles chosen to suit the wearer's body shape and breast size, but all obviously sharing a common design theme.
One young woman, very slim torso but with natural breasts that were exceptionally large, firm and rounded without looking grossly disproportionate, was wearing a black satin bra that covered little more than the lower, outer quarter of each breast. It left exposed a huge expanse of cleavage and sensual curved flesh between and above her nipples and revealed an intoxication crescent of darker areole, yet left enough to the imagination to prove that, yes, less truly is more. She whispered in my ear as we passed and I thanked her for her compliments.
As we pushed our way through the throng of preoccupied bodies, my ears were filled with the sounds of women having fun. Animated chatter, clinking glasses, long wet noisy kisses and moans of pleasure. Looking around I saw mostly pairs, but sometimes threes and fours, hands reaching and caressing and working inside clothing, unzipping zippers, deftly flicking buttons and loosening ribbon ties. Fingers searching out hidden secret places.
Some women, presumably customers but I was impossible to tell now, were now totally naked. One was stretched out on her back on a long low table, two members of the hotel staff held her hands and her feet whilst a tall woman in a corset ran handfuls of ice-cubes over her body, along her arms and legs and especially on her breasts and pussy. Her breasts were not large but her nipples jutted straight upwards, long and hard and inviting. She writhed and arched her back and the tall woman placed one foot on her belly, holding her down with her 5½" stilettoed shoe.
I lost you for a moment as I was distracted by the feast of female pleasure, then realized you were now surrounded by a group of 5 women. One was the slim hotel employee with the large natural breasts and the impossibly low-plunge bra. A second staff member had her back to me but I could see she was wearing a halter-neck bra with spaghetti-thin straps, matching string panties and high strappy sandals.
Her thick raven-black hair was cut high into the back of her neck but progressively longer towards her face, a style I love. Her chalk-white ass was gorgeously firm and rounded and her long muscular back seemed to go on for ever. The other three women must all have been customers as one was naked but for her sheer panties whilst the other two were wearing variations on the classic little-black-cocktail-dress.
As I moved closer I saw that you had your eyes closed and then I realised why. The two cocktail-dress women, one blonde and the other a red-head, were running their hands over your body, initially through the silk that scarcely provided any meaningful protection from their intentions. Moments later, one then the other slid their hands inside your dress and fondled and teased the accessible flesh of your breasts, ass and torso. From the expression of your face, you were enjoying their attention at least as much as they were.
As I approached, the raven-haired employee made eye-contact with me to gauge my reaction. A subtle exchange of wordless communication took place in a fleeting moment that first said "Is this OK?" then, "Sure, let them enjoy her," and finally, "mind if we all join in."
The slim blonde employee whispered to her two colleagues and they led you over to a long low table onto which they threw a number of leather cushions before gently laying you back onto them. For a moment you seemed to panic. Your eyes darted left and right, searching me out, a familiar face in a crowd even though we'd only met for the first time a few hours previously. I smiled reassuringly and you relaxed visibly but only slightly.
I stood and watched for a while, my pussy tingling with excitement. My nipples were aching from being erect, hard and tight of over a long period of time. I feasted my eyes on the erotic atmosphere in the hotel; an orgy of epic Roman proportions taking place in what was ostensibly a public place. The sights, sounds and smells of sex were everywhere. And the tastes too from what I could make out in several corners in the bar area.
But we were not in a corner. No. We were right slam-dunkin' bang in the middle, for all around to see. To see you being mercilessly stroked, caressed and desecrated by the two cocktail-dress honeys whilst the almost-naked hotel guest stood beside you with one hand clasped over her small breast and the other hand clearly visible and moving rhythmically inside her sheer panties
The slim blonde employee stood above your head, supporting your shoulders. I noticed she made no attempt to touch you erotically. Her raven-black-haired colleague exercised less self control as she pulled your feeble silk dress down off your shoulders and suckled on one of your rock-hard nipples.
But they all knew whom you belonged to. They all kept one eye on me. My position of status, power and privilege was never in question. But I was happy to share you knowing that the ultimate prize was mine.
I gestured to the slim woman and she lifted your head so you could more easily see me. In a simple well-practiced flourish I grasped the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head, shaking my long blonde curls over my shoulders. I noticed your eyes widen when you saw what I was wearing underneath. Surely you already knew; hadn't you worked it out already?
Standing between your parted legs, your smooth bare mound just inches from my leg, I leaned over you and took firm hold of the top of your silk dress. With a single tug, I ripped it from your vulnerable and now totally naked body and delighted in the shudder I sent through you.
No doubt you knew what was coming next and you closed your eyes again in anticipation as I sank between your thighs, parted them wider with my firm hands and flicked the tip of my tongue across your fiery throbbing clit.
I knew you would taste delicious ever since I picked you up in the bar, but not this good! I lapped at your gaping cunt-slit and consumed your oozing juices as you bucked your hips wildly. I looked up for a moment to see that the women either side of you were still groping your cute small titties and the woman who had been wearing only panties was now naked and furiously masturbating right in front of you.
It was all too apparent that your first orgasm was not far off and I kept up the pace as I licked and sucked at your clit whilst caressing the insides of your thighs and slipping more and more fingers into your craving cunt.
I felt a hand on my own ass and wriggled my bum as the woman in the skimpy halter-top and string with the gorgeous haircut eased my latex panties down my thighs before dragging a welcome finger along the slit between my swollen, puffy and widely-parted inner labial lips.
You drenched my face as your climax rocketed through you, no doubt grossly enhanced in both power and satisfaction by the wickedly perverted knowledge that your entire body was wantonly exposed, hot, wet, dripping and shaking for everyone to see.
Thanks to my dutiful willing helper behind me, I came moments later and by the sounds from close by, so did at least 3 other participants and voyeurs around us. I'm not sure if you noticed, or heard, or cared. But after you'd composed yourself for a few moments and the staff helped you to clean up, you still looked shocked when I asked: "Are you ready to come back up to my room now and start some serious fucking?"
by julie_julia © Did you like that? Please vote and leave comments., I will reply to all messages. xxx Julia
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