I was careful to fold Mistress' beautiful undergarments the way she had trained me. Then I lay them gently in her suitcase. I loved handling the soft sensuous fabrics and gloried in the sweet scents wafting from the fabric that would soon swathe the flesh that I ached to touch and worship. If she had seen me surreptitiously sniffing the silk drawers I would have been punished for my presumption, but it would have been worth it. Even though I had lovingly hand washed them I thought I detected the slightest aroma of her magnificent pussy in the delicate material. Perhaps it was merely wishful thinking, but it made my cock begin to stiffen.
We would be heading out in a few hours to begin our vacation. Our destination was a house her sister Susie owned deep in the Pennsylvania woods. A couple of years earlier we had visited Susie and her husband there. It wasn't fancy, but it was isolated and that was the charm. No matter how much noise we made, nobody would hear. Susie and her husband were visiting his family for a week in Los Angeles, so we'd have the place to ourselves.
When I finished packing her dainties, I got down to the serious business of packing our toy bag. I had ordered the oversize, hard shell, wheeled bag with a trembling hand because I feared what it signified. The toys that would travel inside it were intended for my sensual torture. My Mistress/wife is a very beautiful, brilliant woman. She is also an exceedingly cruel sadist.
I met Maureen at work. The company brought her in to lead a team of computer engineers programming a project I had dreamed up. I would be overseeing the project, but my computer chops were insufficient to properly execute my concept.
We worked closely together and gradually found our relationship morphing into something else.
We worked ridiculous hours together, frequently well into the early hours. One night I was running the latest version of her program at my desk while she looked over my shoulder. I hit the execute button, but instead of seeing the program fill my screen with the expected stream of data, ERROR flashed. She leaned over to put her elegant finger on the keyboard and her breast pushed a against my shoulder. We exchanged a look that told each other that the contact meant something to both of us, but we quickly returned to the task at hand. Our interactions for the rest of the week were slightly awkward but didn't interfere with our work.
One evening when we actually finished at a reasonable hour, we shut down our computers and began readying to leave. She turned to me, touched my arm delicately and spoke.
"Do you have plans for the evening?"
"I never have plans, I don't have a life, except for here."
"Want to grab a bite to eat?"
"I'd like that."
"How about the Italian joint down by the lake?"
"Great, meet you there?"
We sat in a corner table sipping chianti and enjoying the pleasant if unprepossessing ambiance of the trattoria. Across the dining room a large plate glass faced the lake. Across the water deciduous trees were reaching the peak of their color change, creating a lovely vista of fall foliage.
Initial awkward attempts at small talk faded gradually and soon the conversation became more about our work and a particular hurdle that was delaying our progress.
The waiter interrupted our discussion of coding with plates delicious smelling food. Maureen had chicken parmigiana and mine was linguini with white clam sauce. He sprinkled a little grated parmesan Reggiano over our dishes and asked if we wanted freshly cracked black pepper which we both declined.
We ate with little conversation other than a couple of comments about how good the food was. As we started to slow down Maureen looked up at me with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. It was very attractive and made her seem like a different person. Reflexively I smiled back. She put her fork down and her demeanor shifted again, becoming more serious.
"Did you feel it?"
"Feel what?"
"The electricity when my breast brushed your arm at work."
I was flustered for a bit, things like this never happened to me. How should I answer? I envisioned a trip to HR and a sanction for unacceptable behavior. My eyes were averted as I inspected a fascinating clam atop the mound go linguini.
"Well?" Don't you find me attractive?"
I nodded my head shyly, still not looking at her.
"Don't you like girls?"
I nodded again, still studying the crustacean.
"You're gay?"
"No, I'm not and yes I think you're very attractive." I looked up long enough to defend myself, then quickly returned my gaze to the food.
Her laughter was delightful and drew my attention up to see her bright smile.
"Don't be so shy, Tony. I won't bite."
"I know." I started to smile.
"Unless you like that sort of thing." The mischievous twinkle was back in her eyes accompanied by a burgeoning smile.
I busied myself twisting a forkful of linguine against a spoon, then stabbed the tines into a clam resting in its shell. When I brought the food to my mouth, I naturally raised my eyes to discover her still looking at me.
"I get the feeling that you aren't seeing anyone, true?"
"I don't have time. You're the only woman I spend time with."
She smiled in a way that was encouraging and a bit disquieting at the same time.
