I texted Liz this morning and told her to have her husband take her out to buy a new dress and pumps. I was interested to see what her tastes would run to. The four times I'd met with her she was frumpy, conservative or naked. After the last time, I left her hanging and told her that I would be back to her in two weeks and in fact as of this morning it was three.
There is a subtle level of control exerted in setting up expectations and then letting them down - something that doesn't come easy to me. I keep my word.
Liz is of Trinidadian heritage - both parents are from there. She is in a marriage with a demanding slob. Short, about 5 feet, she had a medium frame with muscular calf's and thighs and a great ass. Her breasts weren't overly large, a C cup without a hint of sag even though she had a bit of a thick mid-section. I wasn't a prize in the gut department but compared to her husband's soft rolls of fat I was a veritable Adonis.
Her husband tired to bully her into a sub-threesome responding to an ad I put online on a lark. Instead I started the process of turning her into a sub. I had the feeling there was steel in her and wondered about her struggle between wanting to please with a fierce self determination.
Today was the day she was going to pay a visit to my friend's spa. I was very clear with El that the special treatment would have to stop short of orgasm.
I spent a bit of time surfing my online contacts when my phone rang.
"Hello"
"She's here." El could be a little abrupt and businesslike when she wants to be. She hung up before I could answer.
I walked over to the dilapidated building just off Chinatown - a building exterior that masked a spa meets boudoir for women only. My wife absolutely loved the place and I was one of the privileged few non- women who got serviced there - sort of like a pet.
Walking in I brushed past the desk and straight into El's office, checking first that she wasn't with anyone. She smiled when I walked in and poured me two fingers (much bigger than hers) of McCallan 10. She kept it around for me (I'm sure I've paid for it many times over but she is sweet).
I sat down across from her as she sipped her Chardonnay, beads of sweat still forming on the outside. She must have seen me coming up the walk and poured it before I got to her office.
"I can see what you see in her. If you ever tire of her let me know." El was great in bed but I knew generally her tastes ran to woman - certainly my wife loved having her go down on her.
"Is it too early to go in?" I wanted to know.
"You were right, she's never waxed before and she has a lot of coarse hair. She just went in for her mani and pedi."
When we last were together I told her to stop shaving for two weeks and now there was something on the order of three weeks of growth on her.
El giggled, "she's like some of the butch who come in here. I'd love to nibble at some of that hair between her legs or under her arms."
"They'll let us know when they're going back."
