***Authors Note: Thank you for the feedback and the encouragement. Ella's journey continues at more length... ***
Pretending she had a phone call, Ella stepped away from the entrance to the bar. She figured she had 4-5 minutes to compose herself. The ad she had posted was by far the craziest thing she had ever done. This meeting was purely about sex- and lots of it.
At least that was the intent when she wrote the WFMM ad. No feelings, no complications, no neediness. Just three consenting adults acting out a wild fantasy.
Just as she was about to put her phone back in her purse, her text message ring tone went off. Reading it, Ella groaned.
Where r u? I've been waiting for ur call...
That bastard. Greg had been manipulating her since they met in the City six months after her sex-capade in San Fran. She wanted to text him back – 'go to hell'. Or even – 'Can't chat, with my 2 lovers right now'. But she knew better. Either way he would manage to ruin her night. Using her anger to bolster her courage, Ella stepped into the bar.
Trying to gather her bearings, Ella quickly moved past the gorgeous blond hostess and over to the side of the bar. Pretending to take interest in the baseball game on the screen above her, Ella took a few deep breaths. Were they there? Would she be able to recognize them? How long was she going to have to stand here feeling like she had 'whore' printing across her forehead?
Slowly looking down the line of barstools, her eyes locked on the man turned towards her and smiling. Thank goodness, that must be 'John'. Not a creative choice for an alias, but what was she expecting from a federal agent - if that's what he really was. She assumed not, but it didn't matter. It was all part of the game.
He's certainly better looking than his fuzzy photo. Not sure where his buddy is, but I can at least go have a drink, Ella decided. She hadn't promised anything other than to meet them and see how things progressed.
Standing up to greet her, John shook the hand Ella extended towards him. "You must be Ella", he said in a strong, but warm voice. "You certainly undersold yourself in your description. At least half the men here were staring at you when you walked in. And the other half are staring now," John teased.
The blush in Ella's cheeks would have been evident if it hadn't been for her natural light olive skin tone and the added bronze the summer sun had provided. She had always been grateful that she didn't turn beet red at the drop of a hat.
"And you must be John," she said as she laughed and gave him her sweet, Midwestern girl smile. So far he had passed the firm handshake rule – that was a non-starter in Ella's book. And, he had put her at ease by purposely overplaying the charmer. That was a nice touch. She sat down and hung her purse on the bar hook by her stool.
Reading her mind, John spoke next. "Mark is running a few minutes late. Would you like to start with a drink?" Two or three tequila shots would help, Ella imagined saying. She opted for a vodka tonic on the rocks.
As they talked, Ella was impressed that 'John', regardless of his real profession, was obviously smart and educated. His appreciation of her attractiveness was also just right – admiring, but not leering.
She had spent a lot of time trying to decide what to wear that evening. Before she got dressed, she had stood naked in front of the hotel mirror. Ella was almost 40. Not old, but certainly not a co-ed.
Slowly she began touching herself. She knew that she needed to appreciate her body if she expected anyone else to. Her breasts were still firm and her waist slim. She traced her nipples, pinching each not-so-slightly between her fingers. Moving her hands over her hips and upper legs, she tried to recreate the touch of a lover from long ago.
Moving over to the bed, she continued to feel up her breasts and moved her hand between her thighs. Finding her nub with her thumb, she began to rub it lightly and quickly. As her juices began to coat her hand, she pushed two fingers in deep. Alternating her rhythm, she could feel the pleasure building. As her body began to tense, her breaths got shorter. Just the thought of having two cocks to play with brought her quickly to orgasm.
Instead of bringing release, Ella was now even more on edge. In a way, she was her own tormentor. Now her cunt would be begging for more satisfaction all night, making it hard for her to stay focused. Past lovers had both lovingly and cruelly teased her about her unusually strong need.
Ella finally decided on a pair of dark jeans that settled right above the curve of her hips and outlined her long, thin runner legs. Yes, she was a total slut, but that isn't how she felt, or how she wanted to present herself.
It was hot in the Capital, so she put on a white, sleeveless blouse that showed just enough cleavage to make one wonder. She had left her dark hair long and wavy, which would frame her delicate chest. As a finishing touch, she did wear her red, three-inch heels. No sense pretending she was a saint, Ella had laughed to herself.
Comfortably seated at the bar and enjoying the conversation with John, Ella was starting to rethink her outfit selection. Like most public places in the summer, the air conditioning was turned down to sixty degrees. It may be good for the suits in the room, but Ella was feeling chilled and it was showing.
"I need to run to the ladies room for just a minute," Ella excused herself. She wasn't sure she could do anything based on the sheerness of the ivory lace bra she had worn, but she also needed a moment to think. This really was crazy, she scolded herself. Regardless of how charming and cute this man was, he was a complete stranger. Wasn't Ted Bundy handsome? She would never forgive herself if she allowed herself to be harmed. Her marriage may not be wonderful, but her family meant the world to her.
Resolved, and feeling a little disappointed, Ella went back out to the bar. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the man standing near her seat. 'Ella, you aren't reconsidering, are you?' Startled, Ella found herself staring up into a pair of very green and disapproving eyes. She was 5'7'' without the heels, and he still towered over her. Suddenly she felt like a schoolgirl being scolded. What in the hell, she thought. I'm a mature, successful woman, why am I reacting like this?
Looking to John for safety, Ella flatly noted, "So John, this must be your friend Mark. Very charming." The sarcasm was meant to get a reaction. It worked well with Greg. He would retreat almost instantly.
"Ella." Mark said quietly, but no less firmly. "Don't look to John to back you up. I've been watching you for the past half-hour. What changed when you went to the ladies room?"
"I don't know what you mean?" Ella tried to lie. She was starting to get that strange feeling in her chest. This man was dangerous. Not in the psycho category, but possibly far worse.
She shivered as he stood behind her and put his hand around her waist. Drawing her against him, he was obviously looking straight down her shirt. "Let me try another route of questioning," Mark began softly as he tracing his fingers over her belly button. "I wonder what I'd find if my hand slid down the front of those tight jeans right now?"
Ella didn't need to wonder. She knew she was wet. Her pussy was aching for him to slide his hand down her pants. 'Why', she asked herself, 'does it take so little to make me feel like this?'
Mark's next words came without warning, and in a low growl. "Why don't you tell me what Greg has to do with this evening?"
Ella spun around almost instantaneously, her eyes on fire. "Greg, has nothing to do with this evening, last evening or tomorrow evening. That jerk-off could disappear off the face of this earth and I wouldn't care," Ella spat out.
Then it hit her. How did Mark know about Greg? Was he somehow connected to these two guys? That was impossible. She met them with an anonymous online ad. Was it anonymous?
As she stood there dazed, the young blonde hostess from earlier came over to where they were sitting. "Your table is ready Mark," she said in a slow, southern drawl. Even in her daze, Ella couldn't help but notice how she was undressing Mark with her eyes. The look she gave Ella, was insulting at best.
"Thank you, Kayla," Mark answered. "Ella, let's continue this conversation at the table," he directed, as he firmly grabbed her upper arm, and guided her to the restaurant area. "John, why don't you grab Ella's purse, and while you are at it, check to see if that information we need for our project is back?"
Ella knew she should make a break for the door. But even stronger than her need for her purse, the hostess had put her pride in overdrive. She could handle this, she convinced herself.
Settling into the booth, Ella tried to take a seat on the end. It only took one dark look from Mark for Ella to realize it was a pointless battle. Scooting into the middle, Ella resolved to get to the bottom of the Greg question.
"How do you know Greg?" Ella tried to ask calmly. She was still furious at the thought they were connected. Mark watched her carefully, noticing her hands trembling slightly in her lap.
"I don't know Greg, Ella," Mark said in a hard tone, "but he seems to be a part of this little fantasy of yours." Her eyes grew wide when he handed over her cell phone. Her surprise was clear. Ella tried to think quickly. Her phone was in her purse, but John had her purse. How did Mark have her phone? The bathroom...
Sitting up straight as an arrow, Ella matched Mark's hard gaze. "Are you telling me you actually went into my purse and looked at my messages while I was in the bathroom?" Ella was getting a headache. Too much emotion for one evening, and the evening had barely started.
Looking down at the phone, Ella's face started to go pale. Oh shit, she thought, no wonder he is angry. This looks bad.
