Brian hadn't planned to be in New York City for Valentine's Day. He'd intended a relaxing night at home, but his agent called the night before with – as the Godfather would say – an offer he couldn't refuse. Hoping the trip would also give him an opportunity to see Linda, he packed a bag and caught an early morning flight.
As he stood in the taxi line at JFK, he texted the young – more than 15 years his junior – woman. She texted back in a matter of minutes, and he asked about her plans for the evening. Linda revealed she had a dinner date with her boyfriend, Ryan – a guy she'd been "kind of" seeing for a while, even while she and Brian had been playing.
A stab of jealousy pierced his gut. Though they'd had a long discussion about seeing other people when they were apart, he couldn't help it. As it had many times in the past few months, inner conflict reared its ugly head. Brian cared for Linda; that wasn't the problem. The difference in their ages, however, concerned him. He didn't give a flying fuck what anyone might think about him seeing a younger woman – he was long past caring what people thought. But, in the deep recesses of his mind, he knew she deserved more; she deserved a good guy; one closer to her own age.
Despite this acceptance, Brian felt some consolation in the knowledge Linda wasn't serious about this guy, preferring to focus more on her career at this point in her life. At least, that's what she told him. He was certain one thing though; when they were together, she was his. She'd surrendered herself to him completely. And, he had pushed her limits; opening her mind and body to a world of new experiences.
In her submission, Linda reaped great rewards. Brian delighted in making her cum over and over; in watching her face; hearing her moans; feeling her body spasm; tasting her; smelling her, as if he couldn't get enough of her. As the cab crawled along the Van Wyck Expressway – the first step in a journey that would take him into Manhattan via the Queensboro Bridge – he decided another push was in order.
"I want you to do something for me," he texted.
"Anything," she assured him.
"I want you to wear the plug today," he typed, referring to the butt plug he'd purchased for her.
It took several minutes for her to reply.
"Can't. Have a date tonight, I told you," she said.
"What does that have to do with it?" he questioned.
This time it took nearly 10 minutes for her answer.
"All day?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered.
"Can't I take it out before my date?" she requested.
"No," he said.
"Please," she appealed.
"I'm not going to tell you again, Linda," he returned.
"OK," she relented.
Brian's meeting went well. His agent had hustled him across town – as quickly as one can travel around Manhattan – to the headquarters of a famous monthly magazine traditionally targeted at women. They planned to publish an in-depth article on erotica, with an eye toward making the inclusion of a short story a regular feature. Negotiations went quickly, and he spent the afternoon creating a plot and characters for the first story this venture would require. He typed up his thoughts, then decided to take a nap.
When Brian awoke, The City was dark. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand – 8:03pm.
"Shit," he said, aloud. "So much for sleeping tonight."
After a trip to the bathroom, he scooped up his cell phone and texted Linda, wondering how her dinner was progressing, and if she'd followed his instructions.
"Is it in?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied, several minutes later.
"Show me," he demanded.
"On a date," she returned.
"Go to the bathroom. Take a picture," he ordered.
At the restaurant, Linda dropped the phone into her clutch. She tried to pretend everything was normal, even managing to take a few more bites of her spinach ravioli as her date chattered away. She couldn't focus on Ryan's words, as her mind fixated on Brian. Her chestnut brown hair, swept up on top of her head, exposed her neck, and every slight breeze made her shiver, thinking of Brian's lips on one of her most sensitive spots.
Somehow, she lasted more than five minutes before excusing herself. She could feel her excitement growing as she crossed the expansive room, forcing herself to walk slowly. Her dress – emerald green, matching her eyes, which tonight were not covered by the rectangular, black framed glasses she often wore – clung snugly to her body. The shimmering material fell to the middle of her thighs, and left little to the imagination.
Part of her couldn't believe she was actually going to do this. She felt naked, as if everyone in the restaurant knew what she was about to do. Her heart beat faster, and her skin flushed. Surprisingly, there was no line outside the Ladies room. Opening the door, she entered, passed through the lounge area – barely noticing the two women examining themselves in the mirror – and proceeded to the last stall. Almost before the lock snapped home, she had her dress bunched up around her waist.
Retrieving her phone with shaking hands, she nearly dropped it into the toilet. She took a second to calm herself. With her right hand, she reached back and pulled aside the thin strip of her thong. This made the lace front rub against her pussy, and she became aware of how wet she was.
"Oh, God," she moaned, then cringed, hoping no one heard.
Awkwardly, she maneuvered the phone, trying to find a good angle. She attempted three shots before abandoning hope.
"This would be so much easier if I could use the mirror," she whispered, to the walls surrounding her.
An idea struck her. Lifting her right leg, she rested her foot on the toilet seat. Crouching slightly, she spread her ass with her left hand, and slipped the phone between her legs. The first try came out blurry. The second was more acceptable, clearly showing the ruby crystal head of the butt plug neatly tucked between her cheeks. Without straightening her clothes, she sent the photograph to Brian.
Her foot still on the toilet, Linda leaned back, letting her back rest against the tiled wall. She switched her phone to her left hand, and the fingers of her right drifted down her body. Finding the material of her panties, she impatiently tugged it out of the way. Her body shivered as she parted her slick lips, and she aimed the phone in order to take another picture just as it vibrated. She snapped the picture before checking the message.
"Good girl," it said.
Before she could reply, another message arrived.
"More."
She smiled, and sent the second picture.
"Looks like someone is excited," he texted back within a minute.
"So wet," she typed, one-handed.
"Still in the restroom?"
"Yes."
"Touching?"
"Sort of."
"What does that mean?"
"I am," she said.
"Good girl," he repeated. Rub it hard and fast.
Her left leg began shaking and she shifted her right foot from the toilet seat to the floor for more support. Only a minute later, she felt the familiar tingle in her belly. She was close, she wanted to – needed to – cum. Knowing it would please him, she sent another text, asking permission.
"May I cum?"
"No."
Caught off guard by his refusal, she appealed.
"Please! I need to."
"Come to the hotel."
"I can't. I'm on a date," she reminded him.
"And yet you're in a bathroom stall, jerking off while thinking about me," he sent back.
Before she could object, her phone buzzed again.
"Tell him you're not feeling well. Come to the hotel, and I'll make you cum."
Her fingers hadn't stopped moving, and his words sent her over the edge. She bit her bottom lip – struggling to remain silent – as the orgasm she craved exploded through her. Her body trembled, and her legs threatened to collapse under her. Despite her best efforts, she began gasping for breath. She brought her right hand to her mouth, trying to muffle the sound. Smelling herself on her fingers, she stuck out her tongue and tasted her juices.
"Mmmm," she sighed.
Aftershocks ran through her body and she considered making herself cum again. An instant later, Linda realized what she had to do. She tried to control her breathing as she unspooled a handful of toilet paper, and wiped away the wetness between her legs. After flushing, she straightened her clothes; twisting her panties back into place, and arranging her dress. Running her hands over the front, she smoothed the fabric, then exited the stall.
Walking to the sinks, she began washing her hands. She heard another flush. In the mirror, she watched the door open two stalls down from where she'd been. A woman – Linda estimated her to be about 10 years older – made her way to the wide vanity. Their eyes met in the mirror. Something in the woman's expression caught Linda's attention. Their glances lingered and the woman winked at Linda as a knowing smile crept across her lips.
Linda felt as if she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Despite being a performer, and could rarely be accused of being shy, she blushed.
"Oh, it's OK, Honey," the woman said, quietly, as Linda's cheeks turned crimson. "Everyone needs to get off sometime."
As the woman washed her hands, Linda tried to form some kind of response, but could manage nothing more than a bashful grin. With one more wink, the woman left her to her business. Alone now, Linda let out a laugh. Her mind quickly returned to the electricity running through her body. Before leaving the restroom, Linda sent one more text.
"I'll be there."
45 minutes later, Brian opened the door and she smiled up at him. Without her glasses, her eyes sparkled even more than usual.
"Come in, my dear," Brian said.
As she passed, he released the door, letting it swing closed. He asked for her coat, and hung it in the closet. Turning back to her, he took a moment to appreciate her dress. The erect nipples of her perfect A-cup breasts strained against the thin fabric, as if beckoning him.
Brian pushed her back to the wall – though strappy, black four-inch high heels augmented her 5'5" stature, his heavy, 6'3" frame dwarfed hers – and kissed her mouth, hard. Their tongues met and he pressed his body to hers. Each wrapped their arms around the other, holding tightly. They remained there for more than a minute.
"Thank you for coming," he said, when their lips parted.
"How did you know?" she asked, smiling.
"What?" he returned.
"Uh, well, after I sent you that picture, I had to get off," she admitted.
"I told you not to," he admonished.
"I know," she murmured. "But, I couldn't help it."
"Naughty girl," he said.
She nodded several times.
"You came without my permission," he said, more than asked.
Her eyes lowered to the floor as she anticipated, almost desired, the punishment he was sure to deliver.
"Yes," she whispered.
Brian took a step back.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered.
He remained silent for a few seconds, looking at her.
"Look at me, Linda," he ordered. "I want you to go take a shower."
She opened her mouth, but he cut off her objection.
