by Vicente, S R
“I’m not sure! What do you recommend?”
She looked back at the screen and typed away at the keyboard. A moment later, a list of options flashed up on the monitor.
“Hmm... ” she said, using her mouse to flick through them, “I’ve got Barcelona next weekend for £600, staying in a five star with breakfast. Looking up at him, she could see Mr. Wells was frowning, deep lines crossing his forehead.
“It’s Amy right?” he asked, looking at her jacket for a name badge. She wasn’t wearing one and he found that slightly irritating. She nodded. He had to admit she was quite stunning. He hadn’t seen the rest of her yet as she sat behind an old oak desk.
“Not on one of those budget airlines right, I’m not flying with them?” he asked. Amy glanced back at the screen. “No, it’s Iberia. Nice flight times and from Heathrow,” she said and waited for his next request, unconsciously using her index finger to twist a thick strand of blonde hair in a childlike manner.
“That sounds okay! Book it for me,” he said after a moment as he watched her closely. She nodded and went back to her screen. He liked her eyes the most, bright blue and piercing and with long blonde hair left loose; she looked dirty and sexy.
He dug into the front pocket of his jacket and slipped out one of his business cards. “These are my details.” He had to lean forward in the ugly bucket seat to pull out his wallet from his jeans back pocket. Opening it he pulled a bankcard and slid it across the table. “Use that!” he said. Amy nodded as she looked at the monitor.”
“Right, Mr. Wells,” she said after a couple of minutes, “I have you on an aisle seat departing on the 28th at 16:40,” she said confirming his details. He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s fine Dear, just print me off the details.”
She glanced up and smiled at him, finding it old fashioned to be called a Dear. “Of course,” she said clicking on the print icon on her screen.
“You should call me Mark, Amy!” Amy smiled and looked up at him knowing the game had just changed. She felt like playing and felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach. How long had it been since anyone had paid her much attention? She felt a severe attention deficit lately.
“Sure thing, you meeting someone over there? In Barcelona I mean,” she asked hoping that of course, he wasn’t, she couldn’t see any rings on his fingers and it was just a single ticket. He raised an eyebrow and smoothed his hair down. “This time I guess I will be. Just looking at some property over there so rather dull I must say!” he replied. Another old-fashioned saying she thought.
“Really,” she said playing the game as she finished inputting his card details onto the system. She could see rain had started on the busy street outside her office. Teenagers pulled up their hoodies and women popped up umbrellas.
“Well, I hope you manage to get some leisure time while you’re there,” she said before she swung herself out of her chair and walked over to the printer to collect his journey details.
He watched her walk, noticing her long legs, smartly defined by a tight pencil skirt. The neck scarf she wore bought out the icy blue of her eyes. Her arse was small and round and her tits were a nice size he decided. She was perfect. She passed him his travel pack and returned his bankcard.
“You busy Saturday,” he asked. For a moment she didn’t know what to say. Was she? Her mind went blank and for the life of her, she couldn’t remember. Being asked out by someone after so long, really threw her a curve ball, straight out the blue. He was asking her out!
“Nothing I can’t rearrange … why?” she blurted out, no longer caring what she was doing. Mark grinned at her reply. This was a lot easier than he expected, “Because I plan to show you a good time!”
She felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach. How long had it been since someone had bothered to ask her out, especially someone gorgeous as him? He would go down well with her friends too, if it got that far they would certainly be impressed. Amy leaned down on the desk and wrote her mobile number on a sticky note pad. She leaned forward just enough to ensure he had a great view of her chest. She had a plunge bra on that even she had to admit, made her tits look sexy. She hoped he liked the view.
“Call me,” she said passing the sticky note over to him, “if you’re not some sort of weirdo of course.” As soon as she said it, she regretted it. How stupid did she sound?
He nodded and took it, gently brushing his fingers against her hand as he did so, a simple smile on his face. “We are all somebody’s weirdo!” he said. She nodded, not knowing how to crawl out of this. She was blushing as she watched him leave her office, hoping like hell he would call. She doubted it already.
On Friday morning while she was in the middle of arranging a cruise holiday for an old couple, Mark rang. She was so nervous when she recognised the voice she nearly dropped her phone. Her hands shook as she gripped it tightly.
“Hey Amy. You still okay for tomorrow night?” he asked, in a deep voice. He sounded sexy.
“Depends on what we’re doing?” she said, trying to play coy.
“I’ll pick you up at seven and I want you to wear a dress, one of those little black numbers. What’s your address?” he asked. She felt butterflies as she told him.
“Great. I’ll have it delivered over later,” he said and hung up. When she arrived home that evening, a deliveryman was waiting for her in his parked up van. He passed her a box and left. Amy had never heard of deliverymen waiting for you.
When she walked into the pleasant warmth of the kitchen, she grabbed a cutting knife and slit the lid open. Pulling out the contents, she held up a skimpy black halter neck dress. Made of sheer fabric, it was completely see through. A little yellow sticky note sat at the bottom of the box. Pulling it out it read, ‘nothing else but stockings and heels.’ Her stomach knotted. Tomorrow night was going to be indeed, one hell of an interesting night.
* * * * *
The following evening he arrived at her door wearing a black suit and had a taxi waiting for them. “I like your dress,” he commented when she opened the door to him. She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t wearing underwear but as it was a cool evening, had thrown a large wrap over her shoulders. It covered her breasts. As long as she stood still, the material that gathered in at the waist of the dress, fell in such a way as to provide a tiny portion on modesty. She had spent the afternoon debating whether to go through with this or not. If she knew him better, the decision to play would have been easier.
“And your body,” he added for good measure. It had been so long since anyone had said that to her.
“This old thing?” she replied feeling a little more confident.
He laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t plan on you wearing it much anyway!” He took her hand and led her to the taxi, opening her door. She felt extremely conscious as she carefully sat down in the back. “You don’t mind do you?” he asked, looking at the taxi, “I fancied a few drinks!”
“Course not, it’s a good idea!” He slid in next to her and shut the door behind him before resting his hand on her knee. Amy could feel her face blush but didn’t resist, rather liking it. They didn’t speak as the taxi headed towards Regents Park. His hand crept higher up her leg and she felt goose pimples as her skin responded in delight. He used his thumb to push her other leg away, making her part her knees a little. She let him. The thrill of what he was doing was just too hard to refuse. She could see the taxi driver looking at them in his rear view mirror. In this light he would have a perfect view. He pulled the sheer fabric up her leg, almost all the way to her crotch. Her heart was beating faster than ever. She stared at his fingers as they carefully worked their way higher and higher up her thigh. She could smell him. She wanted this m
an that she’d only spoken to for less than ten minutes. His fingers reached the bare skin of her pussy and she flinched as though he had burnt her instead of touch her. He leaned into her. “You want me to finger you?” he whispered in her ear. At any other time and with anyone else, she would have slapped them for that comment, let alone agree to it but she wanted him, this stranger. She couldn’t do anything else but nod.
A second later two of his fingers slid straight up her cunt and she yelped. The taxi driver watched her. “I like clean cunt, don’t you?” he whispered. She couldn’t reply. The sensation of being fingered semi naked in a taxi by a man she didn’t know was too much. She could feel her own wetness. The taxi stopped with a sharp bump and Mark removed his fingers, looking outside.
“And we’re here Darling he said; pulling her dress down, not that it covered much. They had arrived at La Boehme, a popular French restaurant that she’d last been to several years ago.
“Wow,” Amy said as they walked into the rustic looking dining room filled with mismatched tables and chairs. “How did you get a table here?” Before Mark could reply, the Maître d came to greet them. Amy pulled the wrap down, hoping she was not exposing too much of herself.
“Ah, Mr. Wells, please follow me, I have your table by the window!” the chubby man with a strong French accent said. They followed him over to a small wooden table that looked over the street. It was perfect. The waiter handed them large menus and left them in peace to decide.
Mark smiled. “What is it they say, ‘it’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” he said ignoring the menu and staring across at her.
“I have heard that tends to work well!” she replied. The waiter returned with a jug of iced water and a bottle of Merlot. He filled both their glasses midway, put the bottle on the table and again, left them in peace. “How does he know I even like Merlot?” she asked surprised.
“He doesn’t I guess but I like to presume these things!” he continued staring at her and she shifted in the seat nervously, his gaze making her uncomfortable.
“Do I get to choose my food or do you decide for me?” she asked, nudging her head in the waiter’s direction. Mark laughed. He had a deep husky laugh and boyish eyes. “I might let you, if you’re good!”
“I like to choose what I eat thanks!” she said raising her eyebrows. Her hair was left down as it had been on the day they met. He shifted his eyes to her chest, making no secret of it.
“Take off the wrap!” he said. She looked down before looking back up at him, shaking her head.
“I can’t,” she said.” People will see my tits,” she said trying to laugh it off.
“I know. Now take it off,” he repeated. Amy looked at him and leaning forward, gazed into his dark eyes as she tried to gauge how serious he was. In the taxi he had been, so why wouldn’t he be now.
She glanced round the room. Several couples sat huddled together taking very little notice of the world outside. Besides the maître d, there was only one youngish looking waiter and a barman who was distracted with his phone. Perhaps if she was careful, she might just get away without being noticed. She shrugged the wrap off, leaving it to fall round her waist. Through the material, the shape of her breasts could clearly be seen and her nipples were prominent, large and dark, they stood erect.
She picked up the large menu and sat it in front of her as she hid behind it. She pondered over the long list of dishes and took several minutes in deciding. When she returned the menu to the table, Mark was cupping the wine glass between fingers as he stared out the window, watching people go by.
“So, I take it you are choosing?” he asked, smiling at her. Amy didn’t reply, instead smiling right back feeling embarrassed. She did like him. They ordered starters and their mains
As Amy clutched the menu tightly against her chest, Mark ordered another bottle. The waiter tried to take the menu but she shook her head. “I think I’ll just hold onto this thanks,” she said, her cheeks flushed red. The waiter had clearly spotted the fact she was wearing a see through dress, what kid his age wouldn’t have but so far, he had managed to avoid gawping at her chest.
The wine was incredible and she was very content to drink more of it. It settled her nerves, making her feel a little more confident in pulling off the game, more confident in his presence. “What do you do then?” she asked, curiously as the waiter took away their plates, the menu left forgotten on the side.
He shrugged, “Bits and bobs I guess! I dabble in property for the most part.” She could see he was looking at her tits and she liked it.
“Later, you’re going to take that dress off your dirty little body for me right,” he said leaning forward and dropping his voice down a notch. A candle burned between them, lighting up his face as he spoke.
She felt excited, a flutter in her belly. “You for real?” she asked.
“Girl,” he said, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, “with a dirty body like yours, what do you think?” She glanced around and noticed the barman, off his phone was watching them. He was looking mostly at her chest; she kind of liked it. It had been a long time since she’s been out with a man, and never one like Mark.
“I see,” she said picking up her glass and finishing it, ”and what are you planning to do them?” she couldn’t help. She heart was racing ahead of her and she desperately wanted to know his intentions. She had read about men like him, mostly in fiction books but still, he was certainly real.
“Hmmm ….“ He said, tapping his finger against his jaw. “Well, you could call them dirty acts on your dirty body but, it all leads to the same thing. You screaming!” he finished. She flushed and felt her excitement increase. She wanted him badly.
The waiter slipped the bill onto the table, breaking up their little conversation. Mark saw the maître d in the corner, looking over at him. Mark gave a curt nod, knowing he was pushing his luck. Glancing round the restaurant, Amy could see that all the tables were full now. People had come and gone. The talk had been good and she decided Mark was a seriously charming man. Handsome and downright erotic didn’t usually come as a package. A few years ago, she’d gone to an S&M club with a friend, a little desperate to try some new avenue. Although the club and been rocking full of semi clad beautiful women, the men for the most part, happened to be much older and dirtier than she liked.
“Gosh,” she said looking at her wristwatch, “I didn’t realise that was the time!”
“Gosh,” he repeated, trivialising the word. “No one says that anymore.” His dark eyes were piercing and once again, she felt a sharp pang of embarrassment... She pushed her blonde hair behind her ears, not liking the tone.
“No one wears silk ties anymore either but you don’t hear me making a point of it,” she responded, looking at the tie he was wearing.
He looked down as though seeing it for the first time. “They don’t ... gosh!” He smiled.
“Come on,” he said as he threw several £50 notes onto the middle of the table, nodding at the waiter, “let’s blow this place. I’ll take you to my local!” He took her hand in a firm grip and she followed, doing her best to replace the wrap round her top half on the way out. They stepped out into the chilly night air and were immediately met by a cacophony of traffic noise, sirens and people. It didn’t matter what the time was; London was always awake. Amy loved his hand holding hers, it gave her a warm feeling in her loins, and it was like being a couple of kids again. They were silent as they made their way to the Ridgeway Club, Mark leading the way. The building was an ornate 19th century converted house at the opposite end of the park. A woman took his coat as they entered and addressed Mark by his first name. He tipped her well as they entered the main room. It was a large room with scattered mahogany tables and a large bar running the length of the south wall.
Groups of mostly men were sat huddled together at these tables, either deep in conversation or playing cards. A few women, all of them extremely attractive, sat amongst them. At first sight, the
place seemed odd but Amy couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was definitely an older man’s club so her experience of these places was limited. She saw Mark nod at a small group of men sitting in the corner. All wearing suits and polished leather shoes, she could smell their money from here.
Mark led her to the bar where she sat on a stool. “The bourdon is to die for, can I convince you to try one?” he asked. She said yes and Mark nodded at the barmen who approached them. “Good evening Mr. Wells and how are you this evening?” he asked. Amy could hear his strong Spanish accent.
Mark looked over at her. “I think things could improve a little,” he replied, “And what about you. Busy?”
The barman shook his head, “Not much tonight sir, what can I get for you and your lady?”
“Two of your most famous bourbons,” he replied, throwing another £50 onto the bar top. They waited in silence as he went off to sort out their drinks. She noticed Mark’s eyes were darting all over the room, seemingly very interested in who was present.
The barman plonked the drinks on the bar top, picked up the money and went off to serve another customer. Mark stood next to her as he handed her the tumbler. She felt his hand touch her skin as she took a sip. It felt electric, like sparks were shooting between them. And she remembered the taxi trip earlier.
He stroked her bare back, suitably impressed with the way her body looked under the light fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. She had done as he told her; black pull up stockings and six-inch heels was all she wore underneath. He leaned forward and lightly kissing the side of her face sending electric shivers down her spine. She flinched like she had in the taxi. He recognised the men the barman was serving; both of them loaded bankers from the city. He has seen Simon and a couple of his friends at the far end of the room when they had first arrived.
“You want another,” he asked. She took a large sip, finishing her drink and placing the empty glass on the bar. “Mike,” Mark called.
Mike, the barman looked over at him and removed the empty glasses before collecting fresh ones from under the bar. Amy had picked up that they knew each other. In fact, it appeared to her as though he knew most of the people in the room.
