The Drake (Open)

[StarXChyld]

For Hire,
A shirt of blue,
A tie of red,
The Wall Street Journal,
A Heavenly bed. . .
Tuesday afternoons at the Drake.

I've decided to bring this story up for another try. If you’re interested in checking out the Drake, please feel free to check in below. This thread is open to both guys and gals. Have fun!!


Allison "Dutchie" Duchoisse


The white Bentley slowly came to a halt in front of Charlie Trotter’s. The driver quickly stepped out of the vehicle and made his way to the curb, opening the back rear door and extending his hand to the occupant within. Italian leather-clad fingertips reached out and grasped the driver’s hand as a long shapely leg presented itself as well. The driver lowered his head as she stood beside him on the sidewalk, sliding her Gucci sunglasses down her nose to peer at him. "Very well, Anthony. That will be all for now. I expect this dinner meeting to last until 10. Please pick me up precisely at 10:05." Replacing the sunglasses high on her nose, she proceeded to glide up the stairs of the restaurant with a cloud of expensive perfume trailing behind her.

"Darlings!" She kissed the air beside each of their cheeks. Her best friends and old sorority sisters, Midge, Muffy and Bunnie had already arrived and were sipping martinis in the lounge. Midge snapped her fingers twice and the bartender flew to her side at attention, "Yes, Mrs. Butler. . .what can I get you?"

Midge swiped playfully at the bartender’s nose and winked, "Oh my, Sweetness! Ask not what you can do for me but what you can do for Mrs. Duchiosse. Her husband’s been on business overseas for months now. . .poor Dutchie!" Midge patted the back of Allison’s manicured hand as she tisk-tisked sympathetically.

Allison arched a perfect eyebrow in Midge’s direction as she tucked her sunglasses in her purse and grabbed her cigarette case. "Honestly, Midge. I’m not a slut like you . . ." She gave the bartender a droll smile as he offered her a light, "A Brandy Alexander . . .blended, thank you."

She suffered through dinner as Muffy and Bunnie lauded their children’s achievements. She white-knuckled it as Midge droned on and on about how difficult it was to find good domestic help. Her only relief from the mundane was when Charlie Trotter himself approached their table to ask about their meals. She was thrilled when the clock chimed 10 and she could escape to the solitude of her mansion on Lake Shore Drive.

Muffy and Bunnie had already departed and she was stuck at the valet with Midge, awaiting their chauffeurs. Midge grabbed her wrist and pulled her close, "You know, Dutchie. . .you really do seem a smidge tense these days, sweetness. You should head over to the Drake tomorrow and find one of those fine young men to give you a ‘once-over’. . .or in my case. . .an ‘over and over and over again’!" Midge’s giggle sounded like a donkey’s whiney.

Allison gracefully retracted her wrist from Midge’s grasp just as Midge’s Rolls purred up to the curb. Her flashing blue eyes bored down hard on Midge, "What are you talking about?!"

It was more of a rhetorical question but Midge was only too happy to oblige.

"Go to the Drake. Tomorrow between noon and two. Look for the gentlemen in the lobby reading the Wall Street Journal. . . Oh! Only approach the ones in blue oxford shirts with red ties." Midge waved at her driver and started down the stairs but not before she nudged Allison gently, adding, "Sweetness, you need to get laid and those boys at the Drake are only too happy to make a little extra cash!"

Before Allison could pull her slackened jaw closed, Midge was gone.

Midge’s words rang in her ears as she stared out the darkened windows of her car. She had been tense lately since Roger’s departure. Roger wasn’t working overseas, he had left her and started a new life in California but she wasn’t ready to reveal that to her girlfriends, let alone the world. After 20 plus years of marriage, Roger had found his new trophy wife and informed Allison that her services would no longer be needed. The details of the divorce still needed to be ironed out and with so much money on the table, the lawyers were taking their sweet time hammering out the settlement.

She knew financially she would be well taken care of but sexually she was completely freaked out. Roger had been her first and only lover. At 42, she wasn’t sure she knew how to "get laid".

Tuesday afternoon found her standing outside the Drake about to learn.

 

[prometheus 2]

Ricardo de Lagos

Rick, I go by to my friends and aquaintances, of which I have few. You see I'm a starving artist. I have no money therefore no friends at least not for long when they find out I have am broke. se la vi. So I find myself living in the streets that is until one day I find out by the grapevine that if I wear a blue shirt and a red tie, filch a copy of the wall street journal and sit in the lobby of the Drake hotel my luck will change . Tuesday afternoon is the time to do this I am told. I borrow a shirt and tie from my brother-in-law comb my dark hair back and finding a seat sit down and wait.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Wynn Stoville

OOC: 6' tall, 28 years old, black hair cut short, an angular, striking face, almost cruel but for eyes which are intelligent and eager to be amused.

He is impeccably dressed, though in a classical rather than a trendy way, in a three-piece charcoal gray suit and raincoat. he wears dark glasses and sits in the lobby of the Drake, ostensibly reading a newspaper. In reality, he is watching the people come and go, waiting for his main chance.

IC: He wasn't sure about this, wasn't sure at all. He'd been a male model when he'd been younger, but this went beyond modeling. This was male prostitution, and there was no sense pretending that it was anything else. He was looking for a woman who would pay him in return for sex or attention or anything else it was in his power to supply. Love for sale. He was a whore.

His friend Zoe had told him that with his looks and his sense of style he would have nbo problem attracting one of the rich north shore bitches who lunched at the Drake, and Zoe should know. She worked at one of the salons in the Drake and so was privvy to the most private gossip. Zoe had told him about the men who hung out in the lobby at lunch time, ready to service a wealthy and bored clientele, but he had not believed her until he'd seen it with his own eyes. The moment he'd walked in he'd known she was right. His street-savvy eyes had picked out the men on the make instantly. he had evenb seen a woman hit on one well-dressed young man; seen them go upstairs together, and he knew she was right. He could do this. He was better looking than they were, he had more style, and he knew these women. He'd grown up with them. He'd run away from them; spent a large part of his life trying to recover from their influence.

Now all that mattered was the money. His demons were behind him and he'd discovered something else in his life, something that didn't destroy him but gave him a reason to live and an outlet for his need to create. He'd become a sculptor, of all things, and the store-front he lived in was crammed with his works in stainless steel and concrete. He was never lonely, never bored, never at a loss. But this new mistress required money for equipment and supplies, and it had been a joke about needing a wealthy patron that had prompted Zoe to make her suggestion.

Now he sat in the lobby is a suit he hadn't worn in three years; shaved, scented, looking as good as art and artifice could make him. The parade of women gave him little to be excited about, until he saw the woman standing by the front door.

Mature, elegant, tastefully dressed. Nothing new about her money, nothing flashy about her. From the way she held herself he knew she'd been born to wealth, took it for granted. The only thing out of character was a nervousness in the way she approached the door and then retreated, approached and retreated, as if unable to make up her mind. But even this she did with an undeniable and unconscious grace. This was a wowman who was beautiful all the way through,m not just onthe surface. He could tell.

"If that one comes in," he thought, "she'd be worth getting to know. Even if she's not in the market, she'd be worth getting to know."

 

[StarXChyld]

Dutchie

She had tossed and turned all night long, Midge’s words floating across her mind’s eye like a teleprompter.

"Sweetness, you need to get laid and those boys at the Drake are only too happy to make a little extra cash!"

Her divorce wasn’t final yet and her strong Catholic upbringing tugged at her conscious. She would be committing adultery in the eyes of her Lord if she gave into the temptation to visit the Drake.

For God’s sake, Allison! Roger’s already playing house with his new whore! The marriage is already dead. It’s almost as if you’re a widow. A piece of paper is going to make the difference between whether you can take a new lover or not? Don’t be absurd!

She had awoke early and called Yvonne to her room. “Draw me a bath and have Alicia come up to do my hair and make-up. Oh, and phone Matthew, see if he can come by and give me a quick Botox treatment. And Yvonne? Before you leave, please set out my navy Halston suit with the white cashmere sweater I bought last year in Italy.”

At exactly 12:00 pm, her Bentley pulled to the curb in front of the Drake. She took one final disparaging look in her compact mirror. Satisfied, she snapped it shut as she stepped from the car. “Thank you, Anthony. Take the rest of the day off, Mrs. Bulter will be giving me a ride home this evening.”

No need to have her driver witnessing her debauchery. Anthony was still on Roger’s payroll and she couldn’t count on his loyalty to her. She’d make her own way home discretely.

Drawing in a deep breath, she forced her feet up the front entrance to the Drake, nodding at the doorman as he held the doors for her. She started to make her way into the lobby when she stopped dead in her tracks. The sight of Midge slipping her arm through the crook of some well-dressed young man’s arm repelled Dutchie backwards, her derriere bumping up against the glass door behind her. The doorman quickly hurried over to open the door for her once again and she stumbled back into the foyer, his firm hand steadying her. “Is there a problem, madam?”

Dutchie shook her head resolutely, regaining her composure as her cool blue eyes focused on Midge’s flirtatious form as she led her handsome escort to the elevator. The realization of what she was about to do hit Dutchie hard and she could feel her long sexy legs tremble slightly in her high heels. The doorman's concern filtered through her thoughts, “Madam, are you all right?”

Dutchie watched as the elevator doors closed, transporting Midge and her escort to unknown delights. Breathing a sigh of relief, she nodded with conviction as she propelled herself forward through the lobby doors once again. Stepping into the lobby, she smiled back softly at the doorman, “Thank you.”

Damn! She needed a cigarette! She needed one badly. A chance to regroup and figure out how this game was played. Spotting the lobby bar, she made a beeline towards it.

 

[mya]

Mary Tyme

Mary hurried into the Drake through the revolving door, clutching the copious legal briefs to her chest. So far she’d had a day from hell and was almost late for a meeting with her client—Richard De Le Geau, a Frenchman accused of being in the States illegally. At 26, she was working as a legal aide for George Whitworth, a partner in Whitworth, Meyers, & Smith. She desperately wanted excel with this client…to prove that she deserved to be a lawyer in the firm once she finished her own law degree in the spring. She’d purposely dressed that morning in her red “power” skirt and sweater, wanting nothing more than to make a good impression.

Her red patent leather pumps clicked on the highly polished floor of the Drake lobby as she hurried for the elevators that would take her to the conference room where she was to meet with Mr. De Le Geau at 12:00 noon—SHARP. Her thick black framed glasses slid down her nose as she tried unsuccessfully to read the clock behind the check-in desk. So she leaned her head to the side and tried to nudge her glasses back up her face with her shoulder so that she would be able to read the time.

Right then, Mary tripped. “Oomph,” she grunted as she landed with all fours on the floor in the middle of the lobby. Unbeknownst to Mary, her skirt had somehow managed to become tangled around her waist and her delightfully rounded rump, attired only in skimpy red satin panties, was presented for all the world to see. Her glasses had clattered across the floor, and she was as blind as a bat without them. “Christmas!” she exclaimed as though it were a swear word.

Mary began to feel around with her hands as she crawled across the floor in search of her glasses--her rump still on display. Her fingers encountered something smooth and she slid them over the object to identify it. Mary’s finger tips followed the outline of the object upward, following the sinewy line until her palms rested on a hard surface. As she straightened up onto her knees, her nicely rounded breasts brushing the object before her as her skirt finally slid down to cover her assets once again. Her long blond hair was a tangled cloud around her face. She squinted—her clear blue eyes desperately trying to identify the object upon which she rested.

A paper rustled, and she was able to make out a sea of blue, bisected only by a thin ribbon of red. “Errrr, ermmmm,” a deep voice filled her ears. At last she realized that she’d felt her way up a man’s legs to his knees and he’d cleared his throat only as a way of asking her just what the hell she was doing. Her face flushed scarlet. “Oh excuse me! I’m so sorry. I was sent here to meet a man at noon,” she stammered trying to explain her situation. Realizing she was hardly making sense to him, she hurriedly scrambled to her feet, sliding her hands up his thighs as she stood up. Her fingers accidently grazed the outline of his cock in his pants. Her blush crept down her neck—the damnation of having a pale complexion. “Oh God. I’m so sorry. I’ve never done this before. Meeting a man...on my own...at the Drake.” Mary still could not make out any distinct features about the man, though she smiled nervously at him. Her chest heaved under the tight red sweater.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Wynn Stoville

He watched the woman carefully as she entered the lobby. She moved like a thoroughbred, proud and graceful, and if he hadn't just seen her nervousness as she entered the building he would have written her off as another rich North Shore Bitch who resented having to soil the bottoms of her shoes by walking on the ground along with the common scum. But in her uncertainty he has caught a glimpse of a confused woman, one who was out of her elemenet and determined not to show it.

She walked into the bar and sat at a table, removed her gloves and ordered wine. Presumably she was waiting for someone, he thought. Or that's what she wanted it to look like.

Wynn had been a model. he knew something about acting. He stood up and dropped his newspaper on a table, put his coat over his arm and walked quickly into the bar. It was dark, but at this time of day not very crowded. She was the only woman sitting alone, which was perfect. He paused at the entrance to the bar and looked behind him as if he were being pursued, then walked right up to her table.

"Excuse me," he said with his most sincere and hopeful face. "Would you mind terribly if I took refuge with you for a minute?"

She looked up at him in surprise, and then he saw the ice return to her clear blue eyes. "I'm sorry." she said. "But I'm waiting for someone."

He pulled a chair out and sat down. "Good." he said. "So am I, but, well, it's rather embarrassing but I keep on getting propositioned out in the lobby." he smiled apologetically at her. "Maybe if I hide in here with you they'll leave me alone."

She just had to find his line sufficiently believable. Whether she actually believed it herself was of no matter. She looked at him nervously, and then she relaxed enough to really see him. He knew he was being appraised and so he gave his three-quarters profile shot, pretending to look back into the lobby.

The bargirl came up and he ordered an expensive, single-malt scotch on ice. Good. Once he had a drink, it would be a;lmost impossible to get rid of him.

"Do you have this problem, often?" she asked him in a voice that told him she didn't buy his story at all.

"Only at the Drake." he said. He turned on his hundred kilowatt smile. They both knew the jig was up, and how she reacted now would make all the difference. "I'd had no idea that women used the Drake for their personal shopping." he added with obviously feigned innocence.

"You don't say." she said in deadpan, meeting his eyes. "I'm perfectly shocked. Neither did I."

 

[StarXChyld]

Taking a sip of her Merlot, she studied him over the rim of her glass. He was young. Mid to late twenties at best. And very handsome. While flattered by his obvious interest in her, she most likely would have rebuffed his attentions. She was almost old enough to be his mother. But there was an air of sophistication and confidence in which he held himself that Dutchie found deliciously enticing.

His excuse for joining her was obviously a lie. He was wearing the prerequisite shirt and tie. The only thing missing was the Wall Street Journal. He knew exactly what happened at the Drake on Tuesdays and he knew she knew as well. But as long as he wished to play, she would gladly oblige him in his game.

“So you said you’re waiting for someone?” She arched an inquisitive brow as she set her glass down. “Business or pleasure, Mister. . .?” She pulled a cigarette out of a small silver case lying on the table.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Wynn Stoville

A smoker? Even better. He produced a butane lighter from his pocket and lit her cigarette. She didn't touch his hand to steady the flame, but their eyes met over the flame, appraising each other.

"Scoville." he said. "Wynn Scoville. My real name is Winchester, but Wynn is easier, I think."

She was a very handsome woman. Spoiled no doubt, and possessed of that startling innocence that so often infected the wives of very rich men, who lived insulated from the real world and its pressures and demands by their husband's money. She showed a certain amount of character in the way she held herself. She'd not yet fallen into that pit of self-indulgent boredom that claimed so many of her type, leading them to alcoholism and worse.

There was something else about her, an kind of bitter fragility that was unusual in women like her. He suspected that she had husband trouble. Divorce perhaps, or else her old man was fucking around; maybe she had severe empty-nest syndrome, though she hardly looked old enough. One thing was certain: she wasn't waiting for anyone respectable. She was in the market.

"Business or pleasure?" he repeated. "Maybe both. I'm just out seeing and being seen." He lit a cigarette of his own. "It's an interesting kind of phenomenon, don't you think?"

"So you're not really waiting for someone?" she asked him. "You lied to me, Mr. Scoville?"

"Not at all." he said. "I'm waiting for someone. I just don't know whom I'm waiting for. Yet."

She looked at him. "A girl, I take it?" she asked with a hint of cattiness. "You can't assume anything these days, you know."

He smiled. "A girl." he said. "A women, more precisely."

He held her eyes until she looked away with a slight smile. He wasn't without humor, and his gaze gave her a little tingle of excitement she hadn't expected, hardly even recalled from the days when men had excited her in that way.

"So let me see if I understand you." she said. "You are basically the same as these other...gentlemen hanging around the lobby?"

He leaned back and looked out into the lobby where he could see various young bucks arranged casually around the lobby.

"No." he said. "I'm not the same. A giggolo, right? That's what they used to call them."

She smiled at the old-fashioned term.

"I'm not interested in sex for money. I'm interesdted in sex for sex."

"Of course." she said. "Love for love's sake. You're a poet no doubt."

"I'm a sculptor." he said.

"Even better." she said. "The beauty of the female form, all that bullshit."

She stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray and he reached out suddenly and grabbed her wrist. Suddenly he was sick of this game and weary of seeing this cynical attitude on her. He was ashamed of himself and ashamed at what he was doing. He didn't want to play anymore.

"Don't talk like that." he said. "It's ugly. You're a beautiful woman and it looks ugly on you."

His sudden directness and the look in his eyes took her up short. His hand on her wrist was strong and warm and his touch surprised her. No one had laid a hand on her in a very long time. For a moment she wanted to hit him, outraged by his behavior. The next moment she wanted him.

"It's been nice talking to you." he said. He reached into his pocket and threw a bill on the table.

 

[prometheus 2]

Rick and a new kind of lap dance

Rick had actually gotten interested in the Wall Street Journal he was reading even if it was a month old. Thinking of all that money he whistled through his teeth. "Those ceo's at Enron sure got away with a bundle."

He looked up when he heard a feminine voice say "Oomph", accompanied by the sound of a body hitting the floor in front of him. He looked over the top of his paper to see the most delightfull rounded rump covered by skimpy red satin panties moving provacatively towards him. so engrosed was he watching this wiggling spectical that he didn't pay to much attention what was in front of it though obviously it was the rest of the body of a young lady who had fallen and couldn't for some reason get up.

He grinned thinking of the commercial and hoping he wasn't on some sort of candid camera program lowered his paper for a better view. It was then that he felt her hands clutch at his ankles grasping upwards as if she were climbing a tree. He sat still and watched and felt her climb. He glanced at her blinking eyes squinting, very attractive to say the least, but kind of weird in this position and grimacing not in pain but confusion. Then he spotted her glasses on the floor, thick lensed ones and his quick mind told him the reason for her behavior. As she continued to pull her self up, Rick watched her skirt slip down around her rounded bottom and then returned his attention to the other end of this delightfully assending vision. A blue eyed blonde looked up expectantly at him her hair tumbling around a soft young face, as her breasts beneath the soft cloth of a red sweatter brushed against him. He cleared his throat to let her know what she was up against for it was clear she had no idea that she was getting close to some very intimate territory.

His "Errrrerummm" was followed by her response of,

" OH,Excuse me!" Followed by her explanation as to what she was here for and why she was in this awkward position. As she rose her hand brushed against the area he had been expectantly been waitng for her to touch and he felt the familar rush of excitement in his loins.

He watched her hover above him for a moment and then, partly because he was afraid she might topple against him and partly because he finally remembered his manners, stood up and taking her hand he guided her inot the chair he had been sitting in. Stooping down he retrieved her glassses, handing them to her. Bending down again he gathered together the papers that had been strewn across the floor and his sense of curiosity and his photographic mind told him a lot about why this ..."Mary' , he read and memorized was here to meet this ..."Richard". He was dismayed of a moment realizing their purposes here was different but thinking quickly and seeing no other prospects in sight decided to make the proverbial sows ear into a silk purse. Not that she was a sows ear by any means, he reminded himself as he looked down at her charming face and remembering the softness of her body against his.... and her roaming hands, but it was the situation he was considering and how he could make better of it.

"Mary, he said, Please accept my applogies for being in your way.... but perhaps it was fortunate that I was..... for both of us.....

" My name is ...Richard,.... I believe we have an appointment this afternoon." He took her hand and raised it to his lips, grazing the back of it with the customary continental kiss.

 

[mya]

Mary Tyme

“Thank you Sir!” Mary said as she gratefully slipped her glasses back on her face. Finally the sight of him bent over gathering her papers clearly swam into her vision. She raised an eyebrow as she noticed his lovely butt. As he turned to her, his smile flashing in his handsome face, her heart leapt in her chest. He was certainly was tall, dark and handsome so to speak.

He handed her papers back to Mary as he flashed her a gorgeous smile. "Mary,” he said, “Please accept my apologies for being in your way.... but perhaps it was fortunate that I was..... for both of us.” Mary nodded dumbly. “Uh huh,” she answered in a daze as she stared up at him like a puppy dog.

"My name is ...Richard,.... I believe we have an appointment this afternoon." He took her hand and raised it to his lips, grazing the back of it with the customary continental kiss. Mary’s heart flip flopped in her chest again as the shivers from his lips ran right up her arm and into her body. She smiled stupidly back at him for a few moments. Then it sank in just what he had said. “HE was her appointment!”

Mary’s brow furrowed as she attempted to figure out what he was doing in the lobby. She studied his face closely…though she’d never met him before. “Richard? As in MY Richard? What are you doing down here in the lobby? My secretary Ophelia distinctly told me to meet you in your room!” She let out a big sigh as she rolled her eyeballs. “I swear that woman would mix up things you and I never would. For Christmas sake, she’d sleep with the wrong man and never know it! She’s a few French fries short of a happy meal if you know what I mean!"

Just as the words left her lips, she remembered he was French. “OH not that the French aren’t happy and all! Or that you’re short.” She looked up at his height and shook her head, “No indeed you’re very tall! Any way, where was I?” Just then she remembered and she quickly lifted her papers to shield his face from the surveillance camera in the lobby.

“You’re supposed to stay in your room remember?” She grabbed his arm and half dragged him into the elevators as though she were expecting the Immigration Authorities to appear from behind the potted plants. She held his arm clutched to her breast as the elevator doors closed. Yet neither of them hit a button.

“HURRY UP RICHARD! Let’s get to your room in a hurry. We can’t wait! If the authorities catch sight of you, you’ll be in their lock up so fast your head will spin. And some big guy’s gonna make you his next girl friend!”

Richard merely threw back his head and laughed as his finger hit the button. “Oh sure, laugh now,” Mary admonished, “but if you were calling our office with your one and only phone call, with Big Bill plastered to your back, you wouldn’t be laughing!”

Just then Mary realized he might be gay, “OH gosh, I’m sorry Richard. It’s none of my business of course. If you prefer men ,that’s just fine. What I meant is that we at Whitworth, Meyers, & Smith represent everyone.” She continued to clutch his arm as her face reddened. The poor Dear was probably gay.

 

[StarXChyld]

Dutchie

Wynn Scoville was brash and arrogant and had completely caught her off-guard.

She was very intrigued and equally excited. A quick check of her memory banks drew a blank when she tried to recall the last time anyone had spoken to her in such a tone. Even Roger had refrained from such force with her. No matter how much she insulted and taunted him during the final days of their marriage, Roger had always returned her barbs with a quiet eloquence. It infuriated her.

More than a good fuck, She craved a good fight.

She rose to her feet as he began to retreat from the table. In an soft unwavering voice, she made her offer.

"$5000, Mr. Scoville."

He stopped and turned, his precarious gaze ripping through her.

A nefarious smile crossed her lips as she gathered her belongings from the table. Brushing past him silently, she strolled deliberately towards the elevators — terrified to look back and see if he’d accept her offer.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Wynn Stoville

Five thousand dollars.

That was a lot of money to get paid for doing something he would happily do for free.

He watched her walk away, her hips swaying in her tailored suit, the intoxicating memory of her perfume making him dizzy. He liked her style. She was no dummy and she was no pig. Her sophistication came from the inside; it wasn't something she'd bought. She was a beautiful and desirable woman.

He caught up to her as she crossed the lobby and took her arm and she merely glanced at him, as if she hadn't even noticed he wasn't there.

"You're interested?" she asked him as she pressed the button for the elevator.

"I could be." he said, eyes on the indicator. "It depends what you want. That's a lot of money."

She turned and looked at him. "Is it?" she asked. "Yes, I suppose it is. Are you worth it, Mr. Stoville?"

He returned her look. "As I say, it depends what you want. I'm not good at faking things."

The elevator came and they stepped in together. She pressed a button and the doors closed.

"What do you think I want?" she asked him drily.

He went to her and put his arms around her, slipping them inside her jacket. Her skin was warm through her blouse, and she was a slim as money and a personal trainer could make her. He looked into her eyes and for a moment saw the woman behind the face, behind the money. She looked expectent with a hint of challenge in her eyes, as if she were daring him to make her feel something.

His lips came down on hers and he tasted her lipstick and the wine she'd had. She was playing it cool, but he could feel her lips tremble slightly as he ran his tongue over them. For him this was no game. He wanted her; his desire was real, and it seemed to communicate itself to her. Though she still just let herself be kissed, he felt her breathing increase as his tongue played over her lips.

He moved his hand to her face and caressed her cheek, his thumb moving softly over her ear as he held her head for his kiss. Then he slowly released her, his lips reluctant to let her go.

The car stopped at their floor. Thankfully there was no one else waiting for it. The halllway was empty.

"At least you could tell me your name." he said.

 

[StarXChyld]

Dutchie

His kiss had left her flustered. She thought she wanted an opponent and instead she was thinking about a lover. No. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. She didn’t want to care, to feel, to think. She wanted to use and abuse him, like Roger had done to her for so many years.

His kiss had changed all that. She found herself filled with unrequited desires and lusts that she had buried along with her heart years before.

"At least you could tell me your name."

She pulled the room key from her pocket as she continued down the hall towards her room. Thankfully, she had sent her personal assistant over to the hotel earlier that morning to save her the possible embarrassment of being spotted at the registration desk with a strange man.

Slipping the key in the lock, she turned the handle and glanced back at him esoterically before gliding into the suite. Her lips were still tingling as she spoke, "Does it really matter, Mr. Scoville?"

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Wynn Stoville

"Does it really matter, Mr Stoville?" she asked.

It did to him. But if this was the way she wanted it, he could play along too.

She was hard to figure. She hadn't objected to the kiss, but she hadn't indicated that she wanted more either. She opened the door of the room and walked in but hadn't invited him in. She hadn't dismissed him either, so he walked in after her.

He was new to this, but he assumed she must be experienced, and yet she didn't have that giddiness he'd seen downstairs in the other women who were trolling for a lover. Most of them had been silly with drink, blatant in their intentions. What had attracted him to her was that she was different. She wasn't drunk. She wasn't silly. What did she want?

Allright, he decided. She's paying; she's the boss. Let her call the shots.

He stood by the door and watched her, waiting.

 

[StarXChyld]

She slipped out of her jacket and threw it on the end of the bed, stopping to glance back at him in the doorway.

"Do come in, Mr. Stoville. I promise you I don’t bite. . .hard."

She regretted the words almost as quickly as they flew out of her mouth. She was trying to be cool but instead came across as some two-bit floozy. She couldn’t imagine any of the ladies at the North Shore Club using such a lame line.

Turning away quickly to hide her flushed cheeks, she sauntered over to the bar and bent over to look in the refrigerator for a bottle of Chardonnay. She needed a drink bad.

Just as her hand grasped the neck of the bottle, she felt two hands grab her tiny waist. She let out a startled yelp and jumped up, spinning around to come face to face with a very amused Mr. Wynn Stoville.

Angrily, she tried to move around him but he held her firm by her slender hips. Trapped between the refrigerator and his body, her blue eyes smoldered up at him defiantly.

"Can I help you, Mr. Stoville?!"

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Wynne Stoville

"Can I help you, Mr. Stoville?!" she asked him.

His hands were around her hips. He had her pinned against the room's bar fridge, his face not six inxhes from hers.

He looked into her eyes, and behind the cool and composed facade her saw the woman inside, frightened, confused, and not a little aroused. He knew he wasn't in her league: not financially, not socially, but he knew too that he had something she didn't have, something that she wanted very badly, even if she didn't know herself that she wanted it.

He had desire, and feeling, and passion; all those things she had lost when she married a man who knew the price of everything and the value of nothing. And without her saying a word, he knew that she was searching for what she had lost all those years ago. Time was running out for her now. In a few years her very sexuality would dry up and blow away, leaving her with nothing but her money. He'd seen it happen so many times withg women like her, with his parents and his parents' friends.

He looked at her now as she leaned away from him slightly, trying to maintain her composure, her social distance and dignity. She wanted to treat him like a joke, as if he didn't matter. She could never bring herself to admit that she needed him or even wanted him, so they were going to go round and round like this. Maybe she would let him fuck her and pretend that she didn't care or pretend that he was an amusement. He wasn't going to let her get away with that.

He let go of her hips and took her armsm closed his hands on her biceps and held her there as his lips came down on hers, tenderly at first, and then with more urgency. Her lips were cold, indifferent. She was too shocked to respond at first. But as the kiss went on he felt her body begin to relax. She let him pull her close and press her body to his.

He was strong and he held her with no trouble. If he wanted, he could take her easily; there was nothing she could do to stop him. She was frightened for a moment as she realized this, but there was an urgency in his kiss, a heat that she hadn't felt in so long.

He wanted her, and the realization hit her with an erotic jolt taht amazed her. She hadn't felt this kind of desire from a man in so long a time that she couldn't even remember. She felt herself go weak.

It was so tempting to surrender to him. So tempting.

 

[StarXChyld]

First her knees. Then her lips. Followed by the rest of her body. She could resist him no more. He rebelled against her status, he refused to be cowed by her stance. It was if he looked right through her and found she wasn’t there.

“And there he was, this young boy, a stranger to her eyes. . .Strummin’ her bed with his fingers, singin’ her life with his song. . .”

She lost herself in his embrace. Hesitant at first and slowly, ever so slowly, falling into the moment. Her arms draped around his neck and her fingertips massaged the back of his scalp as she found her sexuality and returned his investment. Her mouth opened tentatively to receive his tongue and once he was there, she sucked it deeply into her warm recesses. His kiss was an exquisite gift. A promise of things to come, if only she would allow.

He pulled back and gazed into her eyes, searching for her vitality. Lowering her eyes demurely, she smiled bashfully before raising her eyes to his mouth. Running a fingernail gingerly over the lips that had caressed hers so brazenly, she stared in fascination as he sucked her index finger between his warm lips and cradled it in his tongue. She eagerly lifted another finger to his mouth and watched that one disappear in the same fashion.

Her knees were growing weak and her resistance was all but forgotten. Pulling her glistening fingers from his mouth, she replaced them with her own lips and kissed him for the very first time.

As her tongue danced on his, he pulled her closer, his hips pressing tighter against hers, as he grabbed a handful of her long silky hair. She felt the tug and moved into him instinctively, her long legs parting ever so slightly.

He took the initiative, kicking each of her heels to the side as to afford himself a wider gap between her luscious thighs. His tongue ran over the back and then the front of her smooth white teeth, sending shivers up and down her spine. He bit her bottom lip as he drove his growing erection against her flat belly. He drew a moan of anticipation out of her and rewarded her with a more forceful urgent kiss.

Oh God! How she wanted this!

NO! This wasn’t what she wanted at all!

Struggling with her internal demons, she pulled back, trying desperately to compose herself. The bottle of wine was still sweating in her clenched fist and she held it up as if it were a lost treasure.

“Wine! I . . I think we should have some wine. Don’t you agree, Mr. Stoville?”

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He loved the way she struggled to maintain her sense of reserve, her shield of icey sophistication. But he had tasted her excitement and her need on her kiss. He knew who she was inside now, and he looked forward to having her in bed now, where he would strip away all that coldness. It wouldn't take much: another kiss or two, a touch between her legs, and he knew she would melt. The woman in her was closer to the surface than he'd supposed.

For now he was amused. Amused and impatient. He took the bottle of wine from her hand. It was only a split and had a screw-off top. He opened it and tookj two glasses from beneath the bar and filled them.

"To chance encounters." he said, and raised his glass.

She was still standing by the fridg, and she raised her glass as well and took a long sip. He sat down on a love seat by the bar and crossed his legs easily.

It had been begun snowing: heavy, thick, lake-effect snow drifting down in the dark afternoon, obscuring the view of the buildings and traffic on Lake Shore Drive and erasing the horizon between water and sky over the lake. Soon it would be dusk and growing dark.

"You don't have to tell me your name," he said. "Not if you don't mind being called "Hey you". But it would be nice to have something to call you. Or I could always make up my own name for you if that would be easier."

She hadn't eaten all day, and the wine went to her head with astonishing speed. But it didn't seem to relax her. If anything, it made her more conscious of what she was doing here in this room with a strange man; a man many years her junior and she felt suddenly self conscious. She should tell him to leave. Give him the money if that's what he wanted and just tell him she'd changed her mind. There was still time. Call the whole thing off before she lost all her...

Her what? Sge suddenly asked herself: Just what was she putting in jeopardy? Her husband was gone; her money was safe; her reputation wasn't at risk. So what was she so worried about? Did she really care what this giggolo might think of her? How he might find her in bed? Did his opinion mean anything at all?

And she realized that it did. She wasnted to know that men still found her attractive and worth pursuing, worth being with. It mattered terribly to her. It would kill her if he found her to be otherwise.

"How long has it been?" he asked her softly, as if reading her mind.

She was about to answer him but she caught herself. "How long? What do you mean?" she played dumb.

"Since someone treated you as a woman and not as a possession. Since someone made love to you because they wanted you and not because they owned you."

"It's hardly as dramatic as all that, Mr Stoville." she said with an uneasy laugh. "I'm not looking for a therapist."

She heard him put his glass down. "I grew up on the North Shore." he said. "I know what it's like there. I left. I couldn't stand it. The isolation, the status, keeping up appearances. The men working themselves to death and the women going crazy from lack of human contact."

She heard him come up behind her and she was about to turn when she felt him put his arms around her waist. His lips came down on the side of her neck and she gasped; she had always been supremely sensitive there, and when his kiss became a soft lover's bite her body stiffened and she rolled her head to the side to give him access. He kissed his way down to her shoulder, as far as he could reach, smelling her perfume and tasting her exquisite skin, then he dragged his tongue lightly back up to her jaw line and kissed her ear lobe.

Her skin erupted into goose-flesh and her body came alive in a way she hadn't felt in years: she recognized it as the feelings of physical desire, and she welcomed it like an old frined whose face she had all but forgotten.

His hands dragged slowly down her belly and reached down the front of her thighs, then he slowly dragged back up, raising her skirt. She opened her legs slightly, hoping he would touch her, but he didn't. Instead his hands came up and enclosed her breasts. He pulled her back against him and she felt his cock, long and hard and insistent, pressing against her ass.

His breath was hot in her ear, his lips still trailing up and down her neck.

"I want you." he said. "You can keep your damn money. I just want you."

 

[StarXChyld]

"I want you." he said. "You can keep your damn money. I just want you."

His words were almost as powerful an aphrodisiac as his hands on her body. She wanted to believe him. To trust him. But too many years with Roger had left her cynical and extremely wary. Still, his hot breath in her ear and his gentle hands caressing her breasts were doing wonders to persuade her otherwise.

She turned to face him and lifted her hand to his face, tracing the curve of his bottom lip with her fingernail. His fingers were on the pearl buttons of her blouse, expertly flicking them open one by one. She didn’t stop him. He pulled the blouse free from her skirt and slipped it off her shoulders, tossing it on a nearby chair. She drew in a long breath as he stood back and looked at her.

“You’re spectacular, Lady.” He murmured as he lowered his head to kiss the swell of her breasts.

Embracing him more out of gratitude than lust for his comment, she whispered, “If you were to name me, what would you call me?”

He pulled back the lace of her bra with his teeth as his mouth continued to explore the soft expanse of her heavenly curves. Her nipples were hard and erect, begging for his touch beneath the silky material but he ignored them, instead kissing and licking his way around them. He could feel and smell her heat and he had to steel himself from moving too fast. He wanted to nurture her passion carefully and watch it blossom like a perfect orchid.

That was it! He pulled back and smiled at her as he moved his hands around her back, unhooking her bra and letting it fall away from her body, exposing her exquisite breasts. Frightened, she tried to look away but he drew her face back to his and stared hard into her incredulous eyes.

“Orchid.”

“Wha. . ?” She arched a brow.

He lifted a finger to her lips to silence her. “I think I would call you Orchid.”

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Wynne

He took a step back from her, took off his jacket, folded it and threw it over the arm of a chair. He pulled off his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt as he stepped out of his shoes.

"You don't know about orchids?" he asked her as he undressed. "The most beautiful orchids grow deep in the jungle where no one sees them."

Without thinking she crossed her arms over her naked breasts, putting her hands on her shoulders. She had never exhibited her body for anyone, not even Roger. They had always undressed and made love in the dark. She felt nervous and exposed.

He pulled his shirt from his pants, opened the cuffs and slid it off. He wore a tank-style tee shirt, and she felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach as she saw the knots of muscle in his shoulders, his taut stomach.

"They flower and they die," he said, "wasting their beauty and their perfume in the air. No one to appreciate them. No one to enjoy them."

He pulled the tee-xhirt up over his head, and now she saw his whole torso exposed. He was beautiful. His muscles defined without being overdeveloped; a natural beauty. He stepped towards her again and she coudln't pull her eyes from his.

"Just like you." he said as he took her naked shoulders in his hands. "No one to appreciate you, no one to make you flower."

It was so corny. She would have laughed at him if she'd been in her right mind. But she wasn't in her right mind. His words came home with the sting of truth, and he was stripping away her armor of cynicism with every piece of clothing he removed from her.

He saw fear fighting with desire in her eyes. She wanted to believe him but still didn't dare, everything she knew told her he wasn't for real; he was just playing her along, acting the part. And yet there was nothing false in way he touched her, the way he looked at her. The straining hardness she felt as he pressed against her wasn't false, and the way his lips came down on hers was more real than anything she could ever remember feeling.

She put her arms around his shoulders, tentatively, hardly daring to hope. She felt his warm, hard chest press against her breasts, his hands caressing her back, and for a moment she was worried that she wouldn't remember how to kiss. Kissing had not been very important in her lovemaking with her husband: it had all been a matter of the genitals.

But as his lips claimed hers, she forgot everything. For whatever reason, he did want her, and the realization swept through her with a blast of animal heat. She dug her nails into his shoulders and pulled him close, opened her mnouth to him and let him do what he wanted to her. He reached down and grabbed her assm pulled her hipos against his thrilling hardness and squeezing her, and when he pulled away she stood there breathless.

She felt his fingers at the zipper of her skirt, fumbling with the button, then lowering the slide.

"Wait," she said. "Wait. Not so fast!"

But he ignored her. Her skirt slipped down off her hips and puddled around her ankles. She was embarrassed when she'd remembered that she'd worn stockings and a lacey harter belt. When she'd put them on earlier that morning she;d felt silly, as if it were all a lewd joke, but now it didn't seem that way.

He was touching the bare flesh of her thigh above the tops of her stocking, waorking his way around to the inside of her leg and moving slowly higher. She wanted him to stop so she could catch her breath and figure out just what was going on here, but she couldn't think of waht to say.

And then he was touching her, exploring her through her panties.

"Oh God!" she pulled her mouth away from his and gasped as he touched the very center of her need. Her nails dug harder into the muscles of his back and all her protests died in her throat.

She fewlt him lead her back to the bed and lay her downm on the cover, and then he covered her with his body, his hands and lips everywhere,m driving her wild with need for him.

 

[StarXChyld]

It all felt so wonderful and yet so wrong at the same time. Dazed, she allowed herself to be led over to the bed, where he laid her down gently and slid over her trembling body. Squeezing her eyes shut against the world and him, in particular, she forced herself to only feel and not to think. She would have plenty of time afterwards to contemplate her behavior and what she had done that afternoon but for now all she wanted to do was experience how it felt to be desirable.

His eager hardness was pushing against the inside of her thigh and she tried to squirm away from the uncomfortable position but he held her fast under his strong body. Pulling her arms over her head, he grasped her small wrists easily in each hand as he ground himself against her panties that were rapidly becoming soaked in her ardent juices.

She struggled only slightly as a low moan escaped her lips and he retracted his mouth from hers, gazing down at her with smoldering eyes filled with lust. “Is this what you wanted, my little Orchid?” He rubbed his engorged cock against her warm moist panties for emphasis.

As she tried to divert her shame-filled eyes, her hips betrayed her, bucking up off the bed to keep in constant contact with the heat of his erection. Her passion was consuming her, urging her to take this man as a lover even as her soul condemned such lewd behavior.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Her body wanted him, but she still had reservations and fears, and he could tell she was embarrassed by her own need. He supposed she hadn't played this game in a long time; she wasn't used to feelings of desire and lust, because during her marriage sex hadn't included those feelings. Physical relief, yes, status and power, that too. But unless he missed his guess, the sex she'd had with her husband had been empty of love and desire.

And what was harder for her was that now she had to deal with him: a young man, a social inferior, a giggolo. It was hard enough for her allow to herself to feel any emotion; to feel any sort of dependence or affection for him was even harder.

She kept her eyes closed as he kissed her, and when he slid his lips down to her breasts and kissed them she shuddered with pleasure despite herself. She let him push her long legs apart and play with her sex. It seemed like such a juvenile thing to do that she almost wanted to laugh, it was as if they were no more than teenagers in someone's car. But they way he touched her felt amazingly good. No one had touched her with their hand in a very long time, perhaps since she'd been in college, and they certainly hadn't had the knowledge on a woman's body that Wynne had.

His touch was soft and cloying at first, almost tickling her as he brought her along, slowly building her excitement. And as she unconsciously raised her hips seeking a firmer touch, he gave it to her, spreading her labia and making her gasp.

She held him tight so he couldn't see the excitement on her face., her eyes closed, her mouth open and panting. His touch was magic. She could feel his desire for her and his appreciation of her body in his fingers and the way he touched her; she could hear it in his deep, eager sighs.

He ran his hand beneath the waist band and down inside her panties, and when his fingers tyouched the bare flesh of her pussy her hips jerked up convulsively, as if she'd been shocked with an electric charge, and need flooded through her in a surge of heat.

She needed him now, needed him badly, but she still couldn't admit it to herself, let alone admit it to him. Her one hand tangled in his hair, holding his head to her breast. She didn't know what to do with her other hand. She attempted to take his hand, the hand that was caressing her sex, but decided against it. She dropped her hand to the bed cover, then brought it up to cover her mouth when she thought she might inadverdently cry out from pleasure as his finger rimmed her hole and slipped barely inside her.

She couldn't stand it; it felt too good. She needed him. She was about to tell him to do it, to fuck her, when he suddenly raised himself up and knelt on the bed, looking at her.

She looked at him nervously. Why was he stopping? Had she done something wrong? Had he decided he didn't want her?

He reached down and gripped the waist band of her panties.

"Lift up your hips, Orchid. Let me take these off you."

What choice did she have. She did as he said and he pulled the panties down her hips, over her legs and off, leaving her only in her stockings.

She was naked but for her stockings, lying on a bed with a near naked stranger in a hotel room, and her own sluttiness was so humiliating and yet so exciting that she felt her nipples growing harder at just the though of what she was doing.

Wynne stood up, peeled down his shorts, and turned to climb back on the bed. She saw his cock, hard and proud and eager. He didn't show it off, but he didn't hide it either, and his ease withhis own nakedness and thge beauty of his body made her cheeks burn with excitement.

Roger would have had the lights off from the very beginning. He didn't want to see, didn't want to know. The deed was done in the dark in a quick and efficient way, and it was the only way she'd known.

But now she didn't know what to do with herself, so she just lay there as Wynne looked her up and down slowly and wuth pleasure.

It came to her now that he was going to fuck her. He was going to push his cock into her vagina and fuck her until he shot his semen into her. She wasn't ready for this. She didn't think she could go through with it.

But he gave her no time to back out. He knee-walked up to her and she automatically opened her legs to him. He settled down between her thigh and took his cock in his hand. His eyes locked on hers and she couldn't look away.

 

[Don/Deb]

Alan Whatson

Myself and two other agents exit the elevator. I am the taller and older of the three of us. At 6'0" I stand a few inches above the other two. The many gray streaks in my hair also gives my age away. It does not worry me, in fact I like the way it looks. My dad was gray before he was forty so I lasted a few more years than he did.
We walk down the brightly lite hallway checking room numbers. I radio another agent down in the lobby.
" What room number did you say it was?"
" 514" Was the reply.
" Is that lovely legal aide still down in the lobby giving you a show?"

" Nope. She and some other guy just got on the elevator. Not sure who he is."

" Ok. Let me know where they go. I will need to talk with her before we leave."

Placing the radio in my coat pocket I look up to see we are standing in front of room 514.


Agent Drake stood to the side of the door. Myself and agent Lucus stood on the other side.
Agent Darke knocks on the door.
A voice from the other side inquires " Who is it?" As if he was waiting for some one, and he was.
Agent Drake asked " Is this Richard De Le Geau?"
With a deep french accent the voice responded " Yes.....are you my legal help."
I responded this time, " No Richard. We are from the department of immigration. We need to take you in so you can answer some questions for us." " Plaese open the door slowly."
This is the part I hate. My heart pounding. Will he cooperate or will he try something? It seemed like a long time passed. Our hands resting on our weapons.
Slowly the door opened.

Agent Drake commanded " Keep your hands were we can see them."
I was thankful when Richard did what he was asked.
" Richard we have reason to believe you are in this country illegally. We also need to question you about some other activities you have been involved in."

Agent Drake placed the cuffs on Richard.

As we made our way back to the elevator I let our agent in the lobby know the situation. Then I asked if he knew where Miss Tyme was. He informed me that their elevator was just stopping on our floor.

The elevator door opened. Out stepped Miss Tyme. Still holding the mess of papers in her hand. Her gentelman friend was right behind her.
The two agents with Mr Geau in tow brushed past them into the elevator.
I told them to head on without me. I needed to talk with Miss Tyme.

I could see the questioning look on her face as my partners wisked past her.
She pushed her heavy glasses back up her nose.

I walked up to her asking " Miss Tyme? Mary Tyme?"
She answered with a question " Who wants to know?"

I pulled my badge out showing her. " I am Alan Whatson from Immigartion. We just took your client Mr Geau in for questioning."

Now she was confused. She looked at me almost in shock. Then she looked at her friend. Then back to me.

" You just took Mr Geau in for questioning?"

" Yes Miss Tyme, and if you can I need to talk with you some. We found out Mr Geau had contacted your firm. We also found out you would be his contact. We just did not know where Mr Geau was. We followed you here. To put your mind at rest it was not you we got our information from, it was someone else in the firm. Oh by the way I understand you had a little trouble in the lobby." A little smile on my face. " I wish I was down there to see it and not up here."

I could tell she was some what upset. Her face was flushed. Almost matching the color of her sweater, which fit very nicely.
She turned to her friend and then yelled " WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?"

As I backed away some I said " As soon as you take care of this situation I hope we can talk. We can use Mr. Geau's room or we can go downstairs and have a drink and something to eat." I took a couple of more steps back. " As soon as you are done let me know. I will be just down the hall."

As I stood away from them I took in how lovely she looked. Her skirt showing off her shapley legs and butt. Her sweater accenting her thin waist and her breasts. I thought to myself , I should have been in the lobby, and let out a little laugh. The other thing I concluded was, I don't want her pissed off at me. Not the way she is laying into that guy.