Barb

It was a fine dinner. The nighttime view of Victoria Harbor from his penthouse flat was magnificent. As were the food and the conversation, both enhanced by a bottle of vintage white wine that Louis told me he had had from before he left for America and was saving for a special occasion. He was a perfect gentleman, seated across from me in the middle of a long glass table meant for six. He listened attentively to what I had to say and was forthcoming with his own thoughts. For the most part, he focussed on my eyes during our almost non-stop conversation, occasionally touching my arms or hands, generally undistracted my subtle and unsubtle attempts to display various features of my body. Subtle, like often leaning my chest forward and frequently adjusting the halter straps around my chest. Unsubtle, like when I unbuckled my right 6-inch platform stiletto, exposed my entire toned thigh through the slit of my dress, and slid my foot up his pant leg. I got the reaction I wanted for that trick, as Louis simply stared wide-eyed through the table and re-adjusted his trousers to accommodate a growing bulge in his crotch. When he finally looked up, I simply winked at him and licked my lips with a grin.

Despite my little teases, we did learn about each other. Louis regaled me with stories about his activities in the eastern part of America, a place I had never been to. He told me that it was actually his idea to go there, finally convincing his family when he received an acceptance to the Harvard business school and after he promised to manage and help grow the various family holdings in North America while there. He described how he and two friends from school worked long hours developing a real-estate website, building a real-world infrastructure around it, marketing it, watching it modestly take off, and finally negotiating a lucrative buyout. "That was the best thing I have ever done, Barb, not just the sale, but the process. I did it myself, minimal help from my family. Although, let's face it, not to take too much credit, I never had to worry about running out of funds for myself and some aspects were easier because of family connections and intuition honed by being around the family business. But what can I do, Barb, I am a child of my circumstances and I can't just pretend it doesn't exist, you know?"

"There must have been a lot of personal adjustments you had to make coming back here."

"Quite a bit. I adopted many customs from the new world, so unlike my parents and my two sisters, I am a bit less dependent on help. I drive my own car. I do have people on my payroll, though, like my cook and my maid, both great finds. You probably already met my cook Carina, who is really talented at nourishing me, I think. She comes about three times a week. You won't be meeting my housekeeper Irene, though. She works here every day quietly before the sun even rises and many mid-afternoons when I am at work. Mostly I see her when I can't sleep."

"Your assistant appears quite professional, too. I've had a number of conversations with her this week and met her earlier today."

Louis chuckled. "Jen. Jen is quite a revelation. My life would be significantly more frustrating without her. She is quite discreet and expertly satisfies all the crazy desires that I request of her." Louis then paused, ruminating over what he just said. "Just so you know, there's nothing personal between us, though. She is a complete professional, as you just noted, Barb."

I revealed to Louis I wanted to work more in the television or movie industry, not necessarily as an actress, but more on the production side. I wanted to be part of the creative process, both artistic and business, that existed on the other side of the camera. And I confided that I wanted to still be important when my beauty eventually faded. I didn't know whether he believed me or not; I'm not sure I would believe it, if someone like me said that. But it's the truth and it is the reason I regret the lax way I passed through higher education. I told him I entered the Miss Hong Kong pageant because I was hoping it could be my passport to the industry, obviously as an actress, even though I doubted I had acting talent and had only rudimentary training. I aspired to one day parlay acting gigs into writing or directing or producing. "I really pray that I get the chance one day to show the people who make the shows that I am more than a pretty face ... and a body that powerful men would beg on their knees to fuck, of course." I added the last phrase with a grin. "Speaking of fuck, Louis, something just occurred to me."

"What would that be?"

"You know how you said you didn't know whether to lose yourself in a kiss with me or fuck me raw? You pretty much only did the first one."

"I know. It was what I felt most strongly at the time and I think it was the right choice. Don't you agree?"

"Don't you think you deserve more, sweetie?"

"Barb, don't trick me to win a bet," he replied, with a hearty laugh. "By the way, it's now 10 o'clock. Do you still want to go out dancing?"

"Absolutely. I want to show off my killer moves for you, dear."

"Great! Do you think you can get ready in ten minutes? My housekeeper will clean all this up. Oh, and please just wear what you have on now, Barb, if that would be acceptable to you. I love your look, you have such great taste. By the way, what is your neck size?"

I told him and we walked to our separate rooms. I touched up my make-up, brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth, and spritzed a touch more perfume. I went to the front door, waiting. Louis, now dressed in a stylish double-breasted dark suit, came out with a small box. He opened it, revealing a silver choker with a single row of diamonds.

"Thank you for clearing your schedule for me, Barb. Do you like it?"

"I love it, Louis!" I squealed.

"I bought three of the same style actually, since I didn't know your size. My assistant will return the other two on Monday. May I put in on?"

"Of course. Don't let me distract you." I came in closer, pressing against his body, and kissed him on the right cheek, leaving a bright red impression on his face. Then I did the same to his right shirt collar, which also exposed the back of my neck. Louis took this opportunity to fasten the choker.

"Shall we?" Louis held my hand, as we walked out the door.

As we waited for the elevator, I said to him, "Just a warning. Don't wash off the lipstick from your face or your shirt until we get back. I want everyone to know you are mine, you are MY property. It's only fair anyway, with that big hickey you left on my neck from before dinner." He squeezed my hand lovingly, but did not actually look that amused.

***

I was told the dance club was about fifteen minutes away in the nighttime traffic. Louis drove a black Ferrari convertible and decided to leave the top open. It was hard to talk, so I took the opportunity to whet his appetite. I softly massaged his left thigh, ever so close to his obviously rigid cock, for much of the trip. I pulled out lipstick from my small clutch twice, so he could watch me apply it from the corner of his eye. At one point, without him noticing, I untied and tied back my halter, slipping the trailing part of the seat belt underneath it. And I exposed all of my right leg the entire ride and I made sure he noticed me deliberately admiring it and continuously running my hand across its length. When the club came into view, I asked him to stop.

"What's wrong?" he asked, pulling over.

"My knickers are bothering me. They were soaked with my juices before dinner and they never dried out because my pussy has been constantly wet ever since." This last part was not really true, but what's wrong a little white lie anyway? "I need to take it off." I then slowly wiggled off the the damp piece of floss. "Just as I thought, quite moist. Would you be a dear and hold it for me in your coat?" I paused to sniff it before handing it over to Louis.

Louis shook his head, grinned, and put it in his breast pocket, as if it were a pocket square. He then drove over to the valet. I stayed in my seat, even after an attendant opened my door. Louis came over to my side, tipped the passenger side valet, and indicated he would take over. "Sweetie, I seem to have a problem here. Somehow the seat belt has tangled with my dress. Could you help me out?"

Louis looked closely and laughed. "Naughty girl," he said. "May I?" He began to pull the halter knot.

"Be careful. You wouldn't want my girls to pop out now, would you? God knows they want to, with them being so big and this dress being so confining," I said playfully.

"I will take care to defend your honor, Barb ... at least for right now."

He disentangled me. I then swung my legs out, making sure both were exposed up to the upper thighs. I slowly placed my right, then my left, fuck-me shoes on the ground, making sure that Louis got a extended eyeful. I do have attractive legs. They are long and smooth, none of which I take particular credit for. They are also very toned and shapely, which I do take credit for, a product of extensive work at the gym; like most of my body, there is just enough fat to smooth out excessive muscle definition, but when I flex, the individual muscle groups come nicely into view. I winked at him before finally taking his hand to emerge from the deep bucket seat of the car.

We evidently had an approved reservation. After Louis talked to the doorman and showed his identification, we were brought through the front door by a host, cutting in front of a line that stretched half a block, populated with many women in tight skirts barely covering their ass. The host led us to the back and seated us at a dimly lighted private booth for two with a heavy wrap-around curtain. The club itself was full but not packed, with about a couple arms-length distance between guests. The centrally-located dance floor was slightly more packed. Moderately loud house music seemed to be the dominant musical style and conversing would require either a very loud voice or close proximity. A hostess came over shortly with two stem glasses and opened bottle of Dom Perignon for us. Louis and I downed a glass before I grabbed his hand and I whispered in his ear, "Come with me."

I am a fantastic dancer. I have taken lessons since youth for all types of dance and I have spent too many nights in dance clubs for me not to be in total control on the floor. Louis was both capable enough to keep up and savvy enough to just let me do my thing. For my part, when not touching him, I made sure to constantly maintain frequent eye and bodily contact. I occasionally held both his hands to pull him near me, while I writhed. And, of course, I frequently turned my back to him to grind my ass on his bulging crotch, while directing his hands to wrap around my pelvic region.

We returned back to our seats after about twenty minutes of this, just before developing any sweat. We people-watched for quite a while, having fun pointing out things to each other, laughing at some of the bad dancing and aborted pick-up attempts. Eventually, Louis draped his left arm over my shoulder and I nestled my head on his chest, my right arm wrapped around his back and my left hand absent-mindedly groping between his legs. We sat silently, uninterested in speaking, secure in the current state of our relationship. After a while, I closed the curtain around our booth. In the privacy of our little world, I sat on his lap sideways and we began to kiss deeply, my hands on his head and his around my torso. I became increasingly excited and my bare pussy was starting to leak. Our lips still locked, I pushed him back onto the seat, so that he was underneath me. Louis was initially motionless, while I rapidly drove my hips up and down onto his crotch, trying to relieve my tension. I began to moan with greater desperation and Louis started to buck his hips a bit. "Help me, help me ... " I mouthed repeatedly.

Then, all of a sudden, my left arm hit the champagne bottle and it shattered on the floor, the sound loudly piercing through the music. The moment was ruined. I sat up and straightened up my dress. "I got a little carried away, sweetie. Sorry."

Attendants opened the curtain and fussed over us, trying to remove the glass and mop up the liquid. People were staring at us and the commotion around us. I decided to use the time to continue placing my lips all over Louis' face, marking my man for all to see. Louis, however, did not reciprocate my attention to him. Instead, he sat rather stiffly and tried to distance himself a bit. Sensing his unease, I stopped kissing him and apologized.

"Barb, nothing to be sorry about. Maybe we should leave, though. It's not a particularly private place here, anyway." I found it difficult, given my confidence in my ability to inspire lust in men, to believe that his interest in me was waning this early. Perhaps, he was playing the game that lovers play when they are unsure of the other's true feelings, a defense mechanism. Taking it slow to make sure your interest will not be unrequited. I didn't know him well enough to know for sure what he was thinking, though. All I knew was that I was feeling possessive right now. I wanted his body and soul committed to me right now and I wanted to show it.

"I agree, cutie. Let's go back to your place. Maybe we can have fun there. Shall we use the WC before we leave?"

We both left our seats. I took longer in the bathroom, of course. When I emerged, I could see that Louis had already returned to the booth. I decided to make him a touch jealous in the remaining time left in the club. Trolling, I call it. Far from the booth, but clearly in Louis' line of sight, I pretended to be lost, standing alone. As expected, when a pretty woman with tits the size of grapefruits, a bubble-butt ass, slender legs that appear to stretch forever, and dressed to show off all of those assets stands alone by herself, a phenomenon like air rushing into a vacuum occurs. A tall and handsome man approached me, complimenting me on my general beauty and, oh, could he buy me a drink or would I like to dance? I flirted with him for a minute, adjusting my dress, telling him how attractive he was, laughing a bit, touching his forearm, and finally lied to him that I was with friends. He offered his card and I placed it in my clutch. I walked somewhere else and, of course, a similar encounter repeated itself. After four of these encounters, I quit trolling and walked back to the booth.

Louis appeared a bit annoyed. "Ready to go?" he asked a bit brusquely.

"Sure, dear," I replied cheerfully, although I was actually a bit worried about how Louis perceived my little adventure just now.

***

We rode back in silence, even though the top of the convertible was now closed because of the coolness of the midnight air. I spent the drive massaging his neck, while he left both hands on the steering wheel. After parking the car, we went up the elevator, and entered his flat. Louis escorted me to my guestroom and turned on the lights for me. "It's been a long night, Barb. Thank you for the evening. I believe we still have some nice activities tomorrow, right?" he said in a subdued voice.

"I am definitely looking forward to tomorrow, Louis." I felt that somehow the budding relationship was taking a step backwards. I was determined to end tonight moving forward. "Would you like to come in? I could really use some help. You know, these shoes, they are really not meant for dancing and, well, my feet are hurting. Would you mind trying to make them feel better?"

"That would be fine, Barb. I appreciated your choice of heels tonight and the sacrifices you may have made to wear them. They brought out the best in your fantastic legs. And they really did display your your pretty feet well." He caressed my right leg with the back of his hand and furtively glanced at my feet.

I sensed an thaw. "I didn't realize you found my feet pretty, dear. Do you have a little foot and shoe fetish? Tell me what you like about them, sweetie," I teased. I sat down on the bed, crossed my right leg, and began to touch my right foot.

"I prefer to think of it as an admiration." Louis kneeled on the floor, gripping my knees and staring downwards. "The thin spike heels just scream of sex, Barb, how else am I supposed to think about them? I admire the way the ankle straps of your sandals draw me into the exquisite features of your delicate ankles ... " I caressed my right ankle. "... and how the sole design shows off your very high arches ..." I then caressed my arch. "... and how the thin front strap just highlights and exposes your beautiful toes, so well manicured, so absolutely cute dangling a bit over your platforms, so succulent, so inviting ..." Louis seemed to be going into a trance now, obviously associating my shoes and feet with sexual urges.

"You know, my toes are a little cold right now." I wiggled my right toes. "They could use some warming up," I whispered invitingly.

Louis didn't need more encouragement to take the bait. He instantly grabbed my right sandal with both hands and placed my right big toe in his mouth. His tongue greedily licked all around it. After about a minute, he released it with a soft kiss at the end and proceeded to move onto the adjacent toe. I watched him as he did this for each toe on my right foot. Louis looked up at this point, expectantly. I nodded, reading his thoughts. He immediately dropped to his head further, while grabbing my left sandal and lifting my entire left leg up, so that he could resume on my left toes. I wasn't sure if I wasn't becoming more aroused than he evidently was. I was witnessing this powerful man groveling at my feet, hungry to devour them. I closed my eyes as he started with my left big toe. I stayed in the moment, feeling the moistness of his mouth suck and lick the remaining toes and sensing my pussy leaking again.

He finished with my toes and then pushed my torso from an upright seated position to a supine position upon the bed. Still kneeling, he swung both my legs onto the bed and began kissing and licking my ankles. I couldn't take it anymore and I brought my right hand over to rub my clit. After a bit, I started gasping, making small mewing sounds. I shuddered, a small orgasm sweeping over me. In crazy desperation, I used my other hand to untie the halter of my dress, pushed aside the cups hiding my areola, and commenced rubbing my right nipple.

Louis noticed. With my remaining rational brain cells, I recognized a look I had seen many times before. He was absolutely lusting over my large pillowy-soft tits, which were now shaking and heaving with my rapid gasps. With a crazed desperation equal to mine, he panted, "I need your body now, Barb. I really, really need it. Please give it to me ..."

I just nodded with small quick head movements, eyes and mouth wide open, fingers still rubbing my clit, as I yelled, "I'M CUMINNNNNNG! Oh my god, oh my god ..."

Louis then quickly launched his head from my feet to my left breast, cupping the mound with both hands, attacking the nipple with his lips, his saliva dripping all over the mammary. At this point, my legs had come together and he ground his crotch against them, apparently trying to find something to stimulate his stiffy. In the dying moments of my orgasm, I unbuckled his pants, opened the fly and pushed the garment to his knees. I stroked his manhood as best I could with my right hand and tried to stabilize his body by wrapping my left arm around his back, but he continued to wildly grind his hips against me. When my left breast became extremely slippery from saliva, he switched over to sucking and slurping the right nipple, while continuing to fondle the left breast.

My right hand could feel pre-cum starting to drip from his penis. With the extra lubrication, my stroking became more regular. I slowly went up and down the entire shaft with my hand. Louis stopped moving his hips, his manhood sufficiently stimulated. I responded by gripping the head and rubbing the meatus and the frenulum rhythmically with my thumb, resulting in a notable twitching of his legs. He continued to play with my boobs, eventually smearing copious amounts of saliva over the surface of both of them.