Not clear for the reason meeting at this exact location. I was a little early as was expected. She was explicit to wait for her in the corner of the concourse of RSW by the Thomas Edison statue next to the electric car which he invented in 1903. Still runs it says.
And there she was walking briskly to me with not much of a carry-on. A red suitcase with wheels. I stared. Hair a little bit long and a little bit red now. Very business like. I haven't seen her since right around the Christmas holiday when we spent a glorious day together in and out of her pool and walking around the small downtown area where she lives. My condo in Naples is a lazy 45 minutes from her home on the island. A few chats on Facetime with my new Mac but that's a poor excuse. EP and gmail messages, phone calls, whatever, the time didn't pass quick enough.
"K, am i glad to see you. You're looking ......" She shusshed me with a single finger to her mouth, put her arms around me, her head jammed into my upper chest and hugged me. Tight. Looked me in the eye. Smiled. Silently she grabbed my hand in hers, the other maneuvering her luggage and we walked with a purpose to Terminal C and silently eased through security.
Mistress and I were headed to Savannah for four days, a short flight from Fort Myers to Atlanta and a hopper across the state.
On the plane we couldn't stop talking about every single subject, from our jobs, to our relationships to the purple power tie she bought me. When I would overtalk she would listen with interest . . . I like that so much about her . . .and make little circles on the back of my palm with a single, red finger nail.
Typical of her, she casually described with no hesitation her waxing from two days earlier in her regular speaking voice as I tried not to peek around to see who was listening. And when I made the 'guy mistake' of telling her how gorgeous and professional she looked, Mistress launched into unedited detail about the black, strappy sandals with the three-inch something or other heels from Sigorson-Morrison, the fold-over sleeveless and collarless blouse from Caroline Herrera and the dark Miu Miu slacks from NeimannMarcus that were marked down from something ridiculous to something just slightly less ridiculous.
Honestly, I have no clue what she said, although the thought crossed my mind that I paid $40 for my Docker khakis at Macy's, but it was getting me hot.
"I wanted to look appropriate and proper in case we run into any of your colleagues," K more than said. She directed. "You will introduce me simply as 'K'. Let them think I'm your wife, girlfriend, lover, paid escort, whatever. " We were here under the auspices of a yearly business conference I attend. A users' conference to determine industry direction. I hadn't thought about introducing her but all in stride. No one here had ever met my wife. Let them think "trophy wife nearly half my age." Or if the drinks start flowing and the question arises I'll tell them what my EP chum once said, "Got her at the Niece Store on Ebay."
The room at the "Inn at Palmetto Bluff" (in Bluffton, S.C., a short ride to downtown Savannah) wasn't a room. It was a full-blown luxury cottage tucked away in privacy on gorgeous wooded grounds near the foot of a river. Two bicycles outside. A four-post bed. A working fireplace. Bathrooms and closets with square footage. Roomy. Southern hospitality on the upper end.
K was as thrilled as a little girl with truly widened eyes. Her carry-on bag? There was a bigger one that she checked in, also in matching red. What do women pack for for three and a half days that could take up so much cubic space and, wow, so much weight. I would soon find out.
It was mid afternoon. I didn't have to be anywhere 'till the 8pm welcome dinner and it was time to relax and maybe a little more. So I thought. K didn't even unpack and was out of her clothes, nearly naked as a baby, in a minute. Those brand-name clothes? On a chair, tossed into a corner and bra flipped over a lamp. She was dancing around the room in just her tiny g-string (peony she says of the color), strawberry nipples bouncing in unison.
She shoved me without reluctance onto the bed and was on top of me. Playful K, her darling made up face now somewhat fierce.
"R, this is what is going to happen over the next few days." Her naked body straddled me and she leaned over so her face to nose to nose with me. Her hair pouring over me. "I know you're thinking fuck-fest like last time but it will be different. Much different."
The original intent of our relationship soon after we met on EP was that she would be the keeper of my orgasms. Somewhat fetishist but fun. She had and has the power to determine when I cum and how I cum. That power spills over to all aspects of my personal and business life.
I've written about those times on EP, some terribly arousing, humiliating and down right nerve racking, always unexpected. Oh those months with Mistress. I guess she's not a Mistress in the traditional sense of leather boots and whips cracking but it's Mistress with a capital 'M'. Or else. Over the months we've become great friends . . . more than great friends . . . but we don't, well we try damn hard, let it interfere with our personal lives.
"You're here to work and concentrate on the results and success of your meeting," she said. "I'm here to relax, do some sightseeing and, frankly, pamper myself. You will also pamper me. I expect you to treat Mistress very well and with respect. Any tasks should be done without hesitation."
"But of course, Mistress," I said with true sincerity. "That is exactly what I hoped for. I'm so happy that you found the time to come along." We shared a smirk and then a smile.
The rest of the afternoon and early evening were spent relaxing. Well, sort of. She had me light the five lavender candles she had brought, strip naked and massage her back, shoulders, neck, butt and legs with a mysterious, invigorating oil she also packed. When room service came with a large bottle of Diet Coke, lime and ice for her, she had me retrieve the tray stark naked.
Tremendously embarrassing! It was a fellow in his mid-20s.
I had protested as Mistress explained what I was to say and do while I was rubbing her down and the familiar, "Room service" and knock-on-the-door took place, but her scowl quickly ended that. I told the room service guy, stammering, "My Mistress insisted I retrieve her drink without any clothes on." Only a slight, telling smile and a quick glance to my near naked Mistress lying on the bed revealed any thought. I hope the 20 dollar tip worked. It was a forever indeliable 20 seconds.
She told me to remove her g-string, me face to face with her succulent tush, then flipped over. This was all done very casual and happenstance. I massaged her temples, neck, carefully around and on her chest, um, pectoral muscles, her upper thighs and stretched out her legs and calves. Her nipples, little strawberries, seemed to follow my every move and, in my mind, begged for attention. And damn, so too did her slightly parted pussy lips.
I was dying and she brushed off my throbbing erection which "accidently" touched her several times with a simple, "Control yourself, R." It was the only time she opened her eyes. Sure, I thought my actions would get her into a lustful mood but she remained passive as a statue and concentrated on the massage and, probably, what it was doing to me.
After nearly an hour of me pawing and kneading her delicious flesh and a drink break, I was invited to bed with her for a nap. She didn't say a thing as we spooned and she quickly fell asleep as I gently stroked her breasts, lower back and tush. Gently. I too dozed off feeling comfortable, alive and somewhat sated just being where I was. My cock was disagreeing.
We were up at five, dressed comfortably in shorts and sneakers, and walked the ample grounds. Perfectly manicured. She raced ahead, called me slow poke, then allowed me to catch her. She's a toucher, even with people around, and when I stopped to ask for directions and nod hello it was an opportunity for K to put her hand around my shoulder or a finger poke to where the back ends and cushion begins. She engaged strangers.
