Catherine and Jeff had always enjoyed each other immensely with occasional adventures involving role-play style activities and sensual athletic escapades. Catherine was a perky, high-energy, 5'4" tall brunette with saucer-like brown eyes and unmistakable curves despite her occasional attempts to conceal them. She was just a couple years out of college, a career-oriented account executive for a regional consulting firm, and often still taught aerobics and kick boxing classes at the fitness club.
Being fourteen years her senior, Jeff was successful and deeply driven, yet in some ways often not completely satisfied with it all. He sat in a high-back black leather chair, reflecting on the events of last evening. He pondered the sense of calm within him and yet the renewed energy coursing through him. She strengthened and balanced him somehow.
This was a common thread between them, a part of the union. Days and, rarely, sometimes a week or more passed with little to no interaction between them, and then a call or a note would set the wheels in motion.
The call came from her this time - a simple message left Monday morning.
"I'm thirsty," she said.
He then prepared like a chef planning a meal. One part of the plan was a hand written note with three bright fluorescent yellow index cards enclosed in a plain white envelope. Each card was neatly titled with bold print, the words underlined: "Logistics", "Attire" and "Focus".
Catherine walked briskly and with purpose across the short parking lot, her hair pulled back and swishing with the fluid movement of her body. Like reading poetry, he could watch her in a variety of settings, studying and observing with appreciation. It was Wednesday - nail day, and a calculated guess on his part. The double chirp of the keyless entry sounded as she approached her pearl white Audi A4, opened the door, and slid into the driver's seat.
He watched and thoroughly enjoyed the expression on her face as she fumbled with the keys and reached for the white envelope taped to the steering column, the envelope guarding the keyhole like a manhole cover over a sewer line. She looked up briefly to complete a quick scan around the parking lot, the Innovative Salon sign glowing in the background, and was instantly more aware of her surroundings. She felt a twinge of excitement and anticipation as she fingered the envelope, smelled it, started the engine, tucked the envelope between her legs and drove away.
My mentor,
she thought.
His answer to my request
.
"Catherine, you are quite correct, dear sweet girl. It has been a while since I have felt your lips pressed against mine… Tasted you…"
His voice was steady and confident as always
, she thought as she stood in her fourteenth floor corner office listening to her private voice mail messages.
There were two from him, the second one a continuation of the first and closing with "I trust you've reviewed your instructions. Kisses, darlin'." It was a statement more than a question.
She had opened the envelope while waiting at a stop light upon leaving her lunch appointment some five and a half hours ago. When she pulled into the parking garage at her office tower and realized she was only a few minutes late she read the note and skimmed the boldly colored index cards quickly the first time, and then reread them a second time more slowly.
As before when sitting in her car and now standing in her office listening to the voice mail, she could feel the tension below her stomach, deep inside her, and felt the moisture building between her legs. The note and index cards titled "Logistics", "Attire" and "Focus" bouncing around in her mind.
He breezed through the afternoon focused on the day's business, with one minor exception. During a mid-afternoon conference call, he reached into a leather portfolio and from a concealed compartment pulled a 5x7 glossy photo. Mostly listening to the conference call, he allowed his fingers to trace and retrace the smooth edges of the photo.
The subject in the photo was perfectly centered on a large bed blanketed by a very dark, green comforter. She was there with her shoulders lowered, her head turned to the side, knees tucked underneath her almost naked body. The thin slice of white fabric from thong panties cut down the center of her ass with razor precision, perfectly framing the globes of her bottom which was elevated more due to the distinct arch of her back. The picture was her idea some time ago, a gift to serve as a pleasant reminder of her and visual stimulation on demand… A secret pleasure.
Thursday came and went for him - racquetball at the club with Jack for lunch and a salad on the way back to the office. He was 6'1" tall with strong shoulders and a trim athletic build. Salads had replaced burgers after his thirty-fifth birthday along with several other small adjustments to meet the desire to maintain a fitness level held through his twenties and early thirties.
Back at the office a mountain of work to complete before the end of the week was waiting. He purposefully only allowed small fragments of Catherine to filter through his mind, but as always let the background of his mind continue to build and refine the thumbnail sketch of the planned outing. Of course, there would have to be some time for more organized and specifically focused thought. Perhaps that time would be later that evening on the treadmill.
Catherine continued to go about her work routine with anticipation of playtime release and was happy that she was scheduled to substitute teach step class that evening. She knew the exercise would lift her but also knew that she'd have to forgo the self-pleasure she routinely enjoyed after exercise, instead focusing that energy on preparing and wrapping his gift. His instructions were clear.
Finally Friday and six forty-five a.m. arrived, and Catherine was sitting at her desk formulating her approach for the day. She pulled the envelope from her black leather portfolio, opened it and lifted the three bright index cards from it, laying the envelope on her desk.
"The early bird gets the worm…" The cheerful voice of her peer Meagan startled her.
"You bet it does," she replied, looking up and smiling, watching Meagan sashay down the hall and turn into her office. She and Meagan, while peers and office competitors, had formed a true friendship. They sometimes conspired to conquer the work world, sometimes flirted in a veiled way, and sometimes just talked. Most importantly, they trusted each other.
Turning her attention back to the cards, she flipped through them one at a time. Thinking to herself and reading "Logistics".
Got it.
"Attire".
Easy as pie.
"Focus - sharpened sensory awareness, directed masturbation, riding lesson(s)". The last one… She stayed with this one for a bit.
Always the prurient teacher,
she thought, and smiled. These words had her mind flipping through a thousand scenarios. Catherine was burning hot inside and thirsty.
The time passed slowly for Jeff on Friday. It was a busy working day and yet he found it more difficult to keep his thoughts focused on the work activities at hand. Never being a clock-watcher, he noticed himself checking the clock often. Sometimes only fifteen minutes had gone by since the last time he glanced at it.
When noontime approached, he continued plowing through the work items planned for the day, determined as always to complete the scheduled items per plan. He was smoldering inside and hungry.
He arrived thirty minutes before three o'clock. Check-in was uneventful, minus the well-dressed Natalie with the white silky blouse unbuttoned just one button too far at the front desk. He drove the car to building number four and found the unit he was looking for.
After unlocking the door and dropping the black bag on the bed, he conducted a cursory scan and inventory of the suite. It was richly furnished, with a kitchenette off to one side, a standard king size bed on an elevated platform, a few pictures, desk, television, and a delightful overstuffed chair-and-a-half, complete with a wheeled ottoman. A long full-length mirror covered a section of the wall closest to the bathroom. The ottoman caught his eye for a brief moment and he gave it a test roll back and forth.
He emptied the contents of the black bag and deployed each thing to its appropriate place. He pulled the curtain aside to check the view into the parking lot without purpose. He lit a single black cherry candle, left the entrance light on its lowest setting, stripped down to his black CK boxer briefs, then plopped down in the chair-and-a-half to relax and focus.
She arrived two minutes early. He heard the sound of heels on concrete before he heard the soft knock on the door. He hesitated for a brief moment, flipped the entrance light switch off, stood behind the door and pulled it open while still standing behind it. He watched as she took two full steps into the room, stopped, then started to turn to speak.
"Shhhhhh ... Sweet girl", he whispered, slipping the small black leather blindfold over her eyes and securing it around the back of her head. Without a word he led her by the elbow closer to the center of the room and stopped when they were parallel to the mirror but a couple feet back from it. He walked a slow circle around her, smelling her, and when he was behind her again said "Strip" in a low but clearly demanding voice.
She unbuttoned and removed the dark navy blazer and unhooked the matching skirt, feeling it sliding over her hips and thighs to the floor. She stepped out of the skirt and began to fumble with the buttons on her silk blouse, adding it to the pile on the floor once she managed to undo all six buttons.
"Stop," he said, and walked another circle.
She wanted to jump him now and wished he would just throw her on the floor and fuck her silly. She knew better and concentrated on what she could hear, smell, and sense.
Black Cherry
, she believed.
The "Focus" card - "sharpened sensory awareness, directed masturbation, riding lesson(s),"
she thought, the words running through her mind.
The blindfold must be the sensory, or at least part of it...
she continued.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound and feel of leather falling evenly across both cheeks of her ass - five strokes with the cat-o-nine tails evenly paced apart. The strokes were not hard, but the fifth one caused her to shift her weight and take one foot a half step forward, perhaps as a result of the fifth whack or anticipation of the sixth.
