As she entered the doors of the luxury hotel in downtown Chicago she recalled his most recent text to her:
"I want you to walk into the lobby and take a seat. Start reading a newspaper. Instructions to follow."
She pulled her rollaway behind her as she approached a chair in the lobby. "Checking in?" A hotel attendant inquired.
Her eyes briefly met the attendant's, and she felt her face involuntarily flush. She almost imperceptibly shook her head. "No, not right now, thank you," she stammered.
She sat demurely and opened the Chicago Tribune, scanning the articles, but found difficulty focusing on any one article. Anticipation of the next 24 hours was too distracting. She felt hot and flush, and a bit uncomfortable between the legs.
She had looked forward to this encounter for so long and now it was about to occur. The build-up had been months, nay, years in the making.
Lauren some time ago had been Jay's assistant at a firm that planned meetings around the country. Her first job out of college, she accompanied him to many corporate meetings at high-end hotels in major cities, as well as luxury resorts. They had hit it off right away, and while Jay maintained his professionalism at all times, there was no denying her beauty. And clients appreciated someone who was competent yet easy on the eyes. While there were many opportunities for them to have conducted an affair, they maintained a respectful, professional relationship. Once having dinner at a restaurant in San Diego, they had been mistaken for a couple by the waitress. "Well you certainly make an attractive pair, anyway," the waitress remarked when told of her mistaken assumption.
Jay was in his mid-40s, classic tall, dark hair, handsome - a passing resemblance to Mr. Big. He kept in shape with regular exercise and yoga. Lauren, on the other hand, was a long-haired blonde, petite at 5'2" and slender, yet buxom with 34 C/D breasts. Now 25, she had left Jay's employ a year and a half ago. But they had run into each other at a convention last summer, and after a few drinks, found themselves sharing a night of bliss. Countless emails and texts later, they had arranged a rendezvous at one of Chicago's finest hotels. Lauren smiled as she thought back on that summer night many months ago, their pent-up desire bursting forth.
She quickly snapped back to reality, however, beginning to feel impatient holding the newspaper, waiting for something to happen. Then suddenly, she felt a presence. She put the paper down and glanced up to see another hotel attendant. He handed her an envelope, saying, "I believe this is for you, madame." She took the envelope with her perfect french-manicured fingers, her hand ever-so-slightly trembling, and murmured "Thank you," without so much as looking at the attendant's face.
She broke the seal. Inside the envelope was a plastic hotel key card and a handwritten note. She glanced around the lobby to see if anyone noticed her, but the few people she saw seemed to be preoccupied with other things. She unfolded the note and began to read.
"My pet - I have provided you inklings of what is to come, but nothing could have fully prepared you for what you're about to experience over the next 24 hours. You are about to be as a star in a play. And indeed, this play will comprise several Acts. The first Act I have dubbed "Window Onto Pleasure." If you are willing to join me, then take the enclosed key and proceed to Room 5001. Further instructions will be provided to you upon your arrival."
She felt her face flush a bit more as she finished reading, her mind racing at the coming possibilities. She tucked the note away in a coat pocket and rose, pulling the rollaway behind her as she strode towards the elevator bank. As she rose high above the city in the elevator, she couldn't quite believe this day had finally come. The doors opened and she strode down the hallway, to the door marked 5001, where she inserted the card into the lock, and turned the latch.
Her heart leaped as she peeked in, but then dropped when she did not see him. Indeed, at first she saw nothing unusual. As she took a few steps she noticed a box with a ribbon on the large bed. She couldn't help but smile, and immediately her curiosity was piqued. She propped the rollaway against the wall and walked over to the bed. There was no card on the box. She pulled on the ribbon and opened the box.
She smiled as she noticed the black high heels. She ran her fingers over them, noticing the minimal straps over the instep and around the ankle. She smirked at the height of them - four or five inches, only slightly eased by a small platform on the sole. She also noticed a pair of frilly lace (and very brief) boyshorts and a small banquette bra, both also in black. And finally, underneath them, was a blindfold. Also inside was a note, which she unfolded and read:
"The gifts inside this box are for you. They are, however, like a ribbon - wrapping a gift that is for me. That gift is, namely, you. From here on, you will do as I direct. I want you now to dress yourself in the enclosed attire. When you feel you are prepared, text me. You should then walk over to the window and open the curtains. Enjoy the view of downtown Chicago, but then put the blindfold on, and assume a position with your feet shoulder width apart, your hands on the glass at the positions of ten and two o'clock.
And wait."
She smiled inwardly, feeling another rush of wetness between the legs. She took a deep breath, then disrobed quickly. She showered, blew her hair dry, and moisturized her skin. She pulled on the boyshorts and put on the bra, both of which fit perfectly. She was glad she had waxed bare, given how brief the attire was, but also because she knew he liked her that way. She put in pearl earrings in her ears and donned a long strand of pearls a couple times around her neck, letting them run down her sternum. She then applied strategic dabs of perfume. After stepping into the heels, she sat to secure the ankle straps. She then rose, and, feeling much taller, strode over to the curtains. Pulling them back, she was momentarily taken by the views of downtown Chicago through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She texted him:
"I'm ready."
Pulling on the blindfold, her vision was completely obscured. She stood facing the city - feet shoulder-width apart, and hands at ten and two - dressed in brief lingerie, pearls, and heels that screamed come fuck me.
She wondered if anyone could see her. She felt incredibly turned on, and turned into, this sexual creature. She felt ready to unleash something unsaid, as never before.
