I have barked out these words a million times. Instructions that were also barked out at me a million times by my coach, for the first few years of my training when I was a teenager.
Three loud electronic buzzes signal the end of the training session.
“Good work ladies and gentlemen. See you at the next class,” I announce, dismissing the class.
I am fifty four years old. Outside of work, I train and teach at my friend’s boxing club three days a week. I have son and daughter, both in their mid-teens. Their mother and I divorced eight years ago. Shortly after the divorce, I was introduced to the Dom\sub lifestyle. Since my introduction to it, I have indulged in Dom\sub relationships regularly. I am a Dom.
I have been working as a marketing consultant at the same firm for fifteen years. The owner and I became very close friends over the years. We vacation once a year with our families, and celebrate the major holidays together.
Sarah, the owner’s daughter, graduated from university and started working at the firm two months ago. I watched Sarah grow up alongside with my own kids. Sarah was a late bloomer. At nineteen she still looked girlish. While she was away at university, she transformed into a beautiful woman. We are very close and talk openly about almost everything. Her transformation has stirred a strong sexual attraction towards her, in me.
Tonight the firm was having a party to celebrate the launch of a nationwide marketing campaign, for a major financial institution. I took the day off to teach a boxing class and workout. No one would be very productive at the office today. It is Friday, and they all would be anxiously counting down the minutes to the party. Deservedly so, everyone had worked their asses off on this campaign.
I finish my workout, take a quick shower, jump in my car and head home. I’ll take a proper shower at home before I head to the party. My cell phone dings three times as I pull into my garage. I kill the engine and take out the keys from the ignition, as I read the text message on my cell phone. Sarah has sent me a picture of two dresses side by side, laid out on her bed, a red one and a white one. Both dresses are deliciously short.
I text back a question mark. Knowing full well that she is asking me which dress she should wear.
She texts back, “which 1 shud I wear 2nite? DUH! lol”.
“Which dress is shorter?” I text back.
“Red one has a slit up the left side…perv,” she replies, followed by three smiley faces.
I laugh out loud to myself as I send my reply, “Red one.”
My cock starts to swell and grow as images of Sarah in the slinky red dress flood into my mind.
Three dings from my cell phone bring me back to reality.
Another text from Sarah, “k, just 4u.” followed by three kiss emoticons.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, “It’s going to be a long night.”
I go inside my house, empty my gym bag and throw the clothes in the washing machine.
Set the washer timer to four hours, and head upstairs. I have dinner and take a proper shower.
Put on a dark blue suit, white shirt and matching blue tie. I jump in my car and head to the party.
I arrive at the hotel, park my car and head for the ballroom. The room is elegant and well lit. I walk through the ballroom, greeting and chatting with my co-workers. The usual handshakes, hugs, bro bumps and small talk. Everyone is in a great mood and ready to enjoy their evening.
I make my way to the bar and take a seat on a bar stool, close to the end of the bar. The bartender asks what I want. I order a Johnny Walker Red, neat. I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around. It's Sarah, a heartwarming smile on her face and looking ravishing. She is wearing the red dress with the slit on the side that we had texted about. Her four inch stilettoes are the same color as her dress, a deep bright red. She places both her hands on her hips and twirls around slowly for me.
Sarah finishes her twirl, and asks, “Well, what do you think?”
A big girlish grin lights up her face.
My eyes roam over every inch of her. Her brown eyes are big and bright. Her lips covered in a crimson glossy lipstick. Her large breasts exposed by the low neckline of the dress and are held tight to her chest by the dress.
Her slender waist and the flare of her hips are wrapped tightly in red. Her shapely legs and gentle curve of her calfs are accentuated by her stilettos.
“Wow, you look nice,” is all I can force to leave my lips.
Sarah slumps her shoulders forward, visibly disappointed in my reply to her question.
I take her hand and pull her close to me. I place my lips to her ear and whisper, “I will have to whisper the rest of my thoughts, if you want to hear them, Sarah.”
I lean back and hold her gaze. Her eyes widen, she takes the right corner of her bottom lip between her teeth and nods enthusiastically, motioning me to continue.
I brush her long brown scented hair over her ear, and place my cheek on her cheek.
“You look ravishing, Sarah. You are without a doubt the most beautiful, sexiest woman I have ever laid my eyes upon. I was rendered speechless when you twirled for me. As enchanting as you look in that red dress, my first instinct was to tear it off you,” I whisper to her.
I lean back and meet Sarah’s gaze. Her eyes are filled with excitement and shock. She is biting down harder on her lip. I can see the skin turning white, where her teeth sink into her flesh.
I smile at Sarah and ask, “Shall I continue, or will that answer suffice?”
Before she can answer, I stand up and pull her close to me, placing a kiss on her cheek. I take a step back, lift her hand over her head and twirl her into the bar stool next to me. She lifts her hips and sits on the bar stool. I sit down also, keeping my eyes locked on hers. She gracefully crosses her left leg over her right leg. The slit of her short red dress rides up and exposes more flesh than is appropriate. My eyes wander to her legs. Firm, tan, shapely and reflecting the light of the room, in a long shiny line across the length of her thigh. I shift a bit in my seat, to accommodate my growing cock.
“That will more than suffice, Gil” she answers, with a slight quiver in her voice.
I chuckle as I lift the glass of scotch to my mouth and take a sip. I place the glass back on the bar keeping my hand around the glass. Sarah’s eyes dart to my hand. She reaches over and moves the glass out of my hand, placing her right palm against the palm of my right hand. She pulls my hand onto her lap and lowers her head, her eyes widen as she studies my knuckles.
Her arms squeeze her breasts together, as she holds my hand on her lap. I shift again in my seat, as my cock twitches at the sight of her cleavage.
Blushing a bit, she confesses, "I used to be so scared of your hands, Gil. Your calloused knuckles always look bruised and swollen. I was terrified when you would extend your hand to shake mine, when I was younger. But at the same time, I wanted to touch them."
Innocently she adds, "Is that weird?"
“It’s not weird at all, Sarah,” I assure her.
I pull my hand away from her lap.