She remembers when they first talked ....
They had talked online for weeks. She'd been fooling around in a chat room, flirting and teasing. His had been yet another private message, one among the multitudes she'd received that night from guys looking for fun and always turned down. Little had she expected that it would lead to this; her dipping her toe in the water of reality.
She sat in the pub and waited. The surroundings were reassuring traditional, even old fashioned with the chesterfield sofas comfortably spaced apart. She'd taken a seat by the fire which provided a distraction as well as some pleasant heat on this still sharp spring day. She stretched her legs out in front of her and admired her how her they looked in the hold ups and boots, as she waited, reflecting on the last few months they had been chatting.
She really hadn't been sure at the beginning. He'd been quite pushy wanting to know all about her. Whatever she said or did it just never seemed to be enough, he always wanted more. They had quickly found out they had a lot in common, liked the same things and shared a lot of the same views. They had talked as friends for hours. Online messages had quickly turned to online calls, then a stream of texts, telephone calls, damn the international costs and of course the webcam, watching each other as they came. Over the weeks he'd started to strip her bare, peeling her defences away layer by layer until she was naked and exposed physically and emotionally.
His recollections......
"I was just bored," he lied to her to explain why he was in the sex chat room.
It wasn't much of a lie but it was a convenient one because he didn't have to explain that it was the only place he could hope to ask a woman for just what he wanted. Most of the women in there were as real as the men, the one just looking for a quick buck and the other for some easy cyber to fill their lives. He was different, at least that's what he told himself. He wasn't sure if he was serious and he could have some fun along the way.
Then he had found her – the one who replied, the one who replied the way he wanted her to. At first it was just another chat, just another waking wet dream, and then he woke out of it to find that it had become real for him... maybe too real. Suddenly he wanted it to become fully real. He said it out loud to her.
"Shit," he thought to himself as she took him seriously. "What do I do now?" he thought as his playfulness had started to swallow him up. He was falling, for the fantasy, for the reality, for her.
Then it changed for her......
She remembered the night when it evolved from chatting with a friend to something incredibly erotic. For all the hours they had spent talking she was still a mystery, her name and personal details a secret from him, protecting herself. He kept pushing her for her name and she kept refusing. In the early hours one morning he had been telling her about a former lover, how he'd taken her roughly, arms pinned over her head, hurting her just a little and she had been so turned on by the story.
"Now tell me your name," the question came again.
"No," she'd repeated the mantra of the last few weeks.
"Tell me your name," he was starting to get angry now, "tell me your fucking name."
She would never be quite sure what happened next, something seemed to snap in him and before long he was telling her exactly what he would like to do to her. It had been so hot and her hand had slipped even without thinking to her clit and she had started to rub in hard circular motions, using the ring in her clit hood to add to her excitement. Her hips rose instinctively and within a minute she was climaxing wildly, bucking against her fingers and moaning and gasping without thinking.
"Oh that sounded so good, you really enjoyed that I think" he said, "now tell me your name slut."
This time she gave in.
So it had gone on, getting to know what turned each other on as night after night he had teased her; telling her where to touch herself, how hard, when to stop which she found so hard and of course when to come for him. Over the weeks she had realised that he got her sexually, understood her need to be taken, to be controlled but also her desire to be cared for. They'd slipped easily into a routine of chatting, texting and playing around online to the point where just the noise of skype as he logged on was enough to make her wet.
He knew she had arrived......
A few weeks later she touched down in the city. She flew in. This one was serious. Could she be as serious about the things they discussed as she was about meeting? He doubted it... but he doubted his doubts too. It took him ages to get there. Suddenly he was there.
"Stay calm," he told himself but he could hardly hear his thoughts over the rushing pulse in his ears. "See how it goes."
Getting ready to meet him.......
Now she was here, in a strange city, in a foreign country, meeting a man that she knew incredibly well and yet somehow not at all. She'd never thought she would do something like this but had not been able to resist him.
She'd arrived the evening before and checked into an upmarket hotel to get ready for their first real meeting. That morning she had sat in front of the mirror naked, taking her time to put on her make-up and wondering what it would be like to spend time with him in person. As she dried her long brown hair she shivered at the idea that later her might gather it all up in his hands and ride her using it to tug her head back. She smoothed on her body lotion caught up in thoughts of how it would feel like to have his hands rather than her own running over her body.
Next she pulled on the black hold ups, added her long black boots and looked at herself in the mirror, otherwise naked. Her fingers strayed to her full breasts, teasing her nipples that were already hardening in anticipation and she jiggled them slightly before capturing them into a lacy bra. Should she wear panties or not she wondered smiling to herself. A long black skirt and close fitting top completed the outfit, conservative and yet hinting at what lay underneath.
She added perfume, Opium of course, its sexy musky smell suiting the occasion well. She brushed back her hair and added her earrings and pearl necklace wondering if later she might feel his hands on her throat. Now she was ready for the long stroll through the town to meet him, a heady mixture of anticipation and fear mixed together.
"I want you."
He had said it to her so many times over the last few weeks and the reply he had wanted came so easily now.
"I want you to."
That morning had been different though.
"I want you," he had said when he phoned, the familiar phrase sending shivers of anticipation through her. "And today I am going to have you."
Now she sat there waiting for him in the pub, trying to look cool and relaxed when inside she was a seething mass of emotions.
"I am nearly there," the text message flashed up on her phone bursting in on her thoughts.
"Fuck," she murmured under her breath as she fumbled with a paper trying to look calm and cool.
A minute later he was beside her and she stood, kissing him on the cheek like an old friend as the waitress came across and he ordered a drink. Would any of the people around them realise that this was their first meeting she wondered? They made small talk for a minute or two for propriety's sake as the menus were bought and handed over She wriggled a little in her seat, the feel of her nakedness under the skirt turning her on as she crossed her legs and giggled remembering Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct. Should she tell him not she wondered?
Lunch wore on, pleasant, friendly and civilised. He was such a gentleman she began to wonder if he still wanted her not?
His afternoon......