by Marie Gray
Just then, we saw a flashlight beam and heard footsteps coming up the stairs. We made our escape into the locker room where we continued embracing under the shower.
Rico and I said our goodbyes while I was getting dressed, and our parting kiss was almost chaste. He left me pining for three days after that, but I couldn’t afford to let him know how much I longed for him.
This first waiting ordeal seemed more like a week instead of a few days, but after that, we saw each other almost every day. Thomas and Étienne were getting worried, the poor darlings. I told them nothing and offered no explanation. After ten days or so, however, I started yearning for Thomas’s tenderness again.
I phoned him, quickly assuring him that I hadn’t forgotten him and wanted very much to see him again. He was waiting for me with a lovely bouquet of white roses. A fabulous meal was simmering on the stove, and the table was lit up with candles. There were no interrogations concerning my recent disappearance for the last number of days. He simply told me that he had been worried about me and was afraid something nasty might have happened. We spent the evening sipping wine in the living room and relaxing to the sounds of soft music. Then we fell asleep in each other’s arms without even making love, which was just fine by me as my entire body was still feeling pretty sore. It was wonderful.
Later on, Étienne took me to the theater in New York. We flew in his company plane and the whole weekend had a honeymoon feel about it. We toured the museums and department stores, where he spent a fortune on me. We stayed in one of the most expensive hotels in the city and explored all the possibilities of whirlpools, four-poster beds, and stiletto heels. Étienne told me over and over again how much he had missed me. He said that he had been a good little boy during my absence but that he still needed to be punished for having masturbated a couple of times.
I inflicted him with one punishment after another, thinking to myself all the while that I would really like Rico to give me the same treatment. We left each other at the airport, and as I sank into the backseat of the limousine that was returning me to my place, I released a huge sigh of satisfaction.
I’ve been living this extremely full life for a while now. It’s exhausting to be sure, but oh so satisfying! Sometimes I indulge in a few brief moments of solitude, although this is becoming increasingly rare. Since everything I desire is at my fingertips, being alone is an option I don’t have to take. My life has become idyllic. Not a day goes by where I can’t be seen with a satisfied smile on my face.
These kinds of experiences are all part of my work. I’m one of the lucky few who can combine business with pleasure, and my work as an advertising executive is more fulfilling than ever.
The contract I was working on, the most important one I’ve had in ages, had to go off without a hitch. It was a highly coveted California deal and would be the crowning achievement of all my years of hard work. It would also guarantee my company’s success, of course. That’s why I conducted such an exhaustive research campaign and tested the product so extensively myself. The men in my life were absolutely amazing to me during this busy period.
Every good advertising executive understands that they have to know the product that is to be promoted from the inside out. So my motives aren’t entirely selfish when I get so totally involved in the product testing end of things. I certainly benefit from it, and with a little luck I will continue to benefit for as long as I want.
I knew that I would soon be far too busy to see my three adorable lovers for a while, so I decided to spend one last special evening with each of them. I would see them one at a time for one night only so that I would remain a little unsatisfied and anxious to see them again.
This time, I was the one who prepared a marvelous meal for Thomas. I didn’t skimp on anything and offered him only the best. I worked hard from a menu I knew he adored and created a perfect atmosphere in accordance with his taste. Nestled in fresh satin sheets, we made love, slow and sweet. I drank deeply of his tenderness and affection.
The next day I dragged Étienne around on a leash for about an hour, and he delighted me by following my instructions to the letter. I strutted in front of him in my leather bikini and my dangerously high-heeled sandals. I felt gorgeously voluptuous, the femme fatale par excellence. His complete submission gave me immense satisfaction.
The following night, Rico and I made love with a vengeance in the dressing room of the tiny nightclub where he was playing. His music had thrilled me all night long and the desire I felt for him was almost more than my body could bear. He pounced on me at the end of the show and made love to me for what seemed like hours. I left him at daybreak, dizzy and weak-legged, walking dreamily back to my place so I could get a few hours sleep before I went to work.
It was time to say good-bye to all of them for now and get on with the work at hand. I had a huge, once-in-a-lifetime challenge ahead of me but I felt ready to meet it head-on, thanks to the intensive one-month product study I’d just completed.
Sighing deeply, I finally gathered the courage to release the control lever and turn off the switch. I removed the headgear that connects me to the fantastic world of virtual reality, the most fabulous invention of the twentieth century. I miss Rico already, and the others too, even the ones I’ve yet to meet!
Michael’s Birthday
The Regency Hotel bar is one of those elegant, well-carpeted places with low-key lighting and muted sounds. Plush velvet sofas and bar tables covered in crisp white linen are carefully arranged around the room. Airy jazz tunes float quietly in the background, and the clientele is most often of the refined and sophisticated variety, especially at the beginning of the night. The place is usually packed. Businessmen, all kinds of professionals, and a certain artistic element crowd around the tables and the bar, and this particular Friday evening was no exception. There was an important fashion event scheduled to take place later in the hotel.
I arrived at the bar at five-thirty with my friend Christopher. He joined me on the pretext of having to let the traffic die down before he continued driving home to the other side of the city. But I’m no fool. All he wanted was a glimpse of Gabrielle.
We parked ourselves at one of the few available tables, ordered martinis and then sat back to unwind. The place was jammed. A typical hotel bar: all the overdressed clients were yakking away at their companions without paying the slightest bit of attention to the replies because they were far too preoccupied with getting noticed and holding their martini glasses correctly. After one sip of his drink, Christopher said to me, “Are you sure this was where Gabrielle was supposed to meet you? I don’t see anyone here wearing jeans.”
“Get this. She promised me last night that she would ‘dress-up as a woman’ for the occasion…she knows the effect that has on me. That’s why she rented us a room.”
The “event” I was referring to was really just my birthday, but Gabrielle attached a lot of importance to the occasion, and she always threw her whole heart and imagination into making it a day to remember.
This year, Gabrielle began pestering me about two months before my birthday. She asked me for ideas to help her conjure up special pleasures for me.
“You,” I said, “covered in lace, with beautiful stockings and those high-heeled pumps that drive me crazy.”
“You’re going to get that anyway! Go on now, think, what would really turn you on?”
“Surprise me!”
She said nothing about it after that. In fact, she made no mention of any plans at all to the point where I began to wonder if she had forgotten the whole thing.
On the afternoon of the twenty-fourth, one day before the fated occasion, she called me up at work to inform me that I would be spending the evening of my birthday with her. She also told me that she had reserved a room at the Regency Hotel where we would be dining that night. And if she still had the energy at the end of the night, she told me, she would force me to take off all my clothes, douse my entire body with champagne and then lick it
off me until she was completely drunk.
The whole concept sounded excellent to me, especially the champagne part.
She phoned me again on the day of my birthday while I was still at work.
“I have errands to run all day that just can’t wait. What time were you thinking of going to the hotel?”
“Oh, I don’t know, sometime between five and five-thirty.”
“That’s exactly what I figured. Let’s meet in the hotel bar instead of the room, okay? I’m really sorry, sweetie, but I don’t know exactly when I’ll be finished. Probably not before six-thirty. I’m so sorry—”
“It’s no big deal. I’ll just have a drink while I wait for you. It’s my birthday after all. Who knows, there might even be a few damsels in distress to keep me company.”
“Okay, I get the message. I’ll do my best to be there early. But if necessary, I will unceremoniously rip you from the arms of any woman I find you with.”
“Be gentle!”
“Of course! I love you. See you soon!”
So this is how I ended up here with Christopher, who was sitting beside me practically drooling at the sight of all the women present. It was Christopher who had introduced me to Gabrielle, the woman I had left in charge of surprising me that night. He had tried to win her over before I entered the picture, but had failed miserably. However, he didn’t hold my victory against me, even though he still carried a bit of a torch for her. That’s why when I had mentioned the “dressing up” she had in store for me, he was suddenly in much less of a hurry to get home.
“I’m not leaving here until I see what she’s wearing!” he said. “It’s already six now. Where is she? It’s getting late.”
“She said she wouldn’t be here before six-thirty. Listen, it’s hard for her, you know, trying to decide between her only two dresses!”
My Gabrielle’s wardrobe consisted mainly of jeans, camisoles, and oversized sweaters. Sneakers were her footwear of choice except for the odd occasion when she wore cowboy boots. She rarely wore makeup, and when she did it was very subtle. She almost never wore high heels except when she wanted to seduce me. Occasionally, and only for the purpose of pleasing me, she would wear some prettier, slightly more feminine outfits. She didn’t have many of these, which was a shame, but she knew I couldn’t resist those outfits when she did make use of them. At any rate, she had told me more than once that she simply didn’t feel comfortable in what she called “female attire.”
“I’m sure it will be worth a peek,” I said. “Gabrielle can look pretty damn good, especially when—”
But the sentence remained unfinished—and not just mine, either. Every man in the place stopped talking instantly. No wonder! A woman who must have been some kind of movie star had just made an entrance, killing all conversation in one shot and staking her claim as the instant lust object of every man in the room. She was an erotic fantasy come true.
She had flaming red hair that fell in a fiery cascade right down to her waist. The long black dress that clung to her like a second skin was slit right up to the thigh, and she was perched on incredible black shoes with staggeringly high glass heels. Her nails were painted scarlet red, the same shade as her lips. And her only jewelry was a single strand of pearls, roped around her long, fragile, impossibly gorgeous neck. It was impossible not to look at her—not to desire her. She had the dazzling allure and imperturbable confidence of a top model. Her makeup highlighted to perfection her strangely exotic, almond-shaped green eyes and her fine eyebrows, which were the same red color as her hair. Even her glasses added a little touch of mystery. Her eyes were almost too green. And those lips!
Christopher was the first one to return to his senses. He shook his head as if to clear it and swallowed audibly while I remained spellbound and continued to follow this mystery woman’s every little move. She made her way to the bar, where she sat down alone and made herself comfortable. I had the strange sensation that I’d seen her somewhere before. But where? I would never have forgotten meeting such a creature! After about thirty seconds of intense contemplation, I was already visualizing her without the dress, wearing only those murderous shoes, the silk stockings, and her glasses. To my great dismay, I felt the urgent beginnings of a tremendous and undeterrable hard-on. Not even my rampant guilt would stop it, it seemed. I forced myself to think of my sweetheart.
Attempting to override the presence of this bombshell, I summoned up images of the woman I have always found adorable even first thing in the morning when her face is all puffy with sleep. The one I never stopped loving for a moment, even when I came home from work to the sight of her slumped on the couch in front of the television, or when I found her dripping with sweat from an aerobics class, or acting like an irritating bundle of nerves at the steering wheel. I had never been unfaithful to her except on a few rare occasions, like this one, when I had been stunned by the presence of a young beauty and had innocently allowed my mind to wander a bit. What man could deny ever having indulged in such fantasies?
Christopher’s thoughts must have been just about where mine were (minus the guilt) because he shifted his chair closer to the table and murmured, “There should be a law against what she’s doing. I know you’re in love, but what would you do if a woman like that decided she wanted you?”
I gulped in alarm. “I don’t know…but I’m hardly her type anyway, and besides that—”
“Telephone call for Mr. Michael Peterson!”
“Ah! Saved by the bell! It must be Gabrielle.”
It wasn’t Gabrielle. It was her friend, Dana, who informed me that Gabrielle was on her way and that I would have to be patient for a bit longer. She had just left Dana’s place, but with the kind of traffic there was right now, she probably wouldn’t be here for about an hour. I was disappointed, but my disappointment evaporated as soon as I realized that the redhead was looking at me with what seemed like interest. No! I must have been imagining things. I went back to my seat, trying in vain to control the blush that was already suffusing my face.
“Would you like another drink?”
“Yes, please. Was it Gabrielle?”
“No, it was Dana.”
Christopher was immediately sympathetic when I explained the situation and assured me that he would stay with me a little while longer at least.
“What are friends for!” he said.
I wasn’t sure how much friendship really had to do with it, but I thanked him anyway.
A waiter was approaching our table with a tray.
“Mister Peterson, the lovely lady sitting at the bar would like to offer you this drink.”
“That’s very kind of her, but I’m waiting for my companion.”
“That’s what the lady thought when she saw you on the telephone just now, but she’d like you to accept the drink anyway.”
The waiter had a twinkle in his eye and I had a feeling he wasn’t going to be dissuaded. I accepted the drink in order not to offend the beautiful stranger.
I tried to catch the dream woman’s eye so I could raise my glass to her in friendly greeting, but she was now actively engaged in a very animated conversation with another man whom she seemed to find charming. She didn’t notice me. Christopher was suddenly irritable.
“Why is it always you? You, who has a fabulous girl already while all I have is my left hand and a pillow? Why?”
It was now six-thirty.
The redhead was still talking to the same guy, but he was starting to look quite tipsy. It was completely obvious that he had only one idea in mind. Perhaps, I thought to myself, I should go and thank her for the drink now. It would be a good pretext to save her from a situation that was surely becoming annoying. I could ask the waiter to bring her a drink on me, but with my luck, Gabrielle would arrive at exactly the wrong moment and I’d look like a perfect idiot. Christopher interrupted my reverie, saying that he had to leave. He made me promise to give him all the details if there was a sudden change in my plans tonight, and I knew he
was referring to the redhead.
“Believe me, I’d like to. I’m going to give Gabrielle another thirty minutes or so.”
I was getting a little fed up by this time. After so many tantalizing promises, Gabrielle had left me here to be bored silly on my birthday. I was beginning to think that she wanted me to sit here, in fact, and stew with the frustration of prohibited enticements.
All alone now, I could admire this stunner at my leisure. I kept waiting for her to turn her head my way so I could give her some small sign of gratitude. The man who was chatting her up finally gave up and left. She turned toward me but didn’t look my way. She seemed lost in another world, in another bar, in another city somewhere. Then she suddenly cast a quick look around the room as if she were checking for the hidden camera or the perfect angle to strike a pose. She finally chose a position. From where I was, I could see the side slit of her dress widening even further, revealing the lacy stocking edges at the top of her thighs. One shoe was dangling lazily off the end of her toe, and the movement was hypnotizing me. Without moving a muscle, I slid my gaze all the way up her body until it was level with her full breasts; they were resting against her arm, and that arm was practically pushing them out of her neckline. I stared in fascination as one long strand of flaming red hair fell inside her velvet soft cleavage.
My mind began to torture me by producing images of that strand of hair wrapped around my fingers. Should such hair be legal on a woman? My senses were acute but selective. I could no longer hear the din of the bar, just the roar of my blood as it surged into my crotch. I was blind to everything except that divine apparition. I imagined her floating above me in a huge satin-sheeted bed, her red mane of hair in my eyes, in my mouth. Oh God, I was hard as a rock again.