It's mid morning, and I'm not where I'm supposed to be.
I should be at work, diligently typing away, or organising spreadsheets for reports - my usual tasks during the week. But instead, I took the day off. Booked a train ticket to another city. And I'm on my way to meet you. No one knows, and no one will know.
You've messaged to say you might be a bit late (always late), which will give me just a few minutes to get my bearings. I have been to this city plenty of times, but this is the first time I've met someone with the express purpose of indulging in them.
Once the train arrives at the platform, I walk towards the station entrance. I thought you said you'd arrive after me, but I can see you. Ahead, looking away. Red hair blowing in the light spring breeze, in your jeans and cardigan. With a sizable bag - you would not look out of place hiking somewhere, perhaps. But we have different plans today.
I consider for a moment that I could approach you quietly and make you jump. But that would draw a lot of attention. So I pull up alongside you, waving my hand, and you nod knowingly. Like you realised, "Oh yes, I was supposed to meet you today, wasn't I?"
We exchange weather and travel information, as one must always do after a trip ("How was your journey? Isn't it a lovely day?"). I'm stuck on my phone's map app, though. I have seen this building from a distance many times before, but never knew exactly where the entrance is, and we kind of need to know.
Not on the side facing the main road, but off to the side, we spot the doors to the lobby. I'm starting to get a little bit nervous - are we actually going to do this? - but we walk in like normal, and I approach the desk. You stay behind, examining the meeting area of the lobby, maybe wanting to remain incognito, if possible. Then I receive the key, and am pointed to the lifts. I wonder for a second if they know why we're here, if they can imagine...we can't be the only ones, can we?
And once I walk towards you with the key, I think I can see a bit of glee on your face, before we wait for the lift. This feels like the longest wait of my life. My mouth is dry, and I'm sure if I were to speak my voice would crack. The ride up to the eleventh floor is almost entirely silent. You ask what room we were given, and I mention I think it's one in the corner.
Sure enough, it is the last one at the end, in the corner. Sliding the card into the reader, the door unlocks and I let you walk in ahead of me. Once inside, I turn around and check.
"Locked?"
"Ideally!"
I'm aware this is new to you, and I want to double-, triple-check before carrying on. But I'm also excited to get started.
You put your bag on the floor, and walk to the window. Opening the thick set of curtains that would block out the light, but leaving the linen curtains closed. Stretching your arm and standing on your toes to reach as high as possible as you do so. Kind of want to freeze that image in my mind. The traffic noise outside reminds me that this is real.
Once the room is lit, you turn, biting your lip from the middle of the room. There's a chair by my side of the bed, so I move it to face your direction, and then sit.
You start sliding the cardigan off your shoulders. In what seems to be the slowest, most drawn out motion, it falls off, and I can see you now in a basic t-shirt. The tips of your hair cascading down your shoulders and towards your breasts. You'd often say it looked a mess but frankly it was a mess I always wanted to hold in my hands.
Distracted by your hair, I don't notice that your shoes are now off, and your hands moved to the front of your jeans. Teasing with the button a bit. Undoing it. I expect to see maybe a lace number underneath, some exciting texture that I can enjoy touching as well. But as the jeans hit the floor around your ankles and you step over them, I realise you're wearing nothing underneath.
As if reading my mind, you speak up.
"I figured, what was the point? Not going to need them most of the day..."
I nod, silently. Calculating that...yep, you've also decided no bra. As you remove the last article of clothing, the hem of the shirt rises over your belly, towards your breasts and then exposing your nipples. I have seen them so often, staring at the pictures, but now they are in front of me. Exposed, erect.
The shirt and jeans discarded, you move gently around your side of the room. Walking, turning. Bending over, facing me. Eyes directly on mine, and yet I want to focus on how your breasts swing. I want my hands on you already. But we agreed - I will wait until you are ready. And so I sit there, leaning forward, waiting for that signal.
Not yet, you motion with your finger.
You climb on the bed, crawling away from me. Looking back to watch me grip the arms of my chair, ready to pounce. The white of the sheets reflects the light back towards your body and you do look positively glowing.
Then you sit on the bed, facing me. Initially with your legs closed, folded up against you, and your arms covering you. Hiding. But I know that look on your face and then you lower your arms. Place them behind you to hold you up. And your legs extend out towards me, toes pointing at me. And then you spread them, maintaining eye contact. Daring me to look away from your eyes. But I'm not, and I won't, until you're ready.
"Did you bring them..?"
You ask, almost whispering.
I don't answer, but out of the pocket of my jacket I pull out a small bag. Inside, I show you, are a blindfold, and some restraints - to keep someone's hands by her thighs.
There's that flash of excitement again - your eyes opening wide, a smile developing into a lip bite. You know what our deal is - you can decide the initial pace, but as soon as I'm in control, you'll have to abide by my rules until the end of the day. I know part of you wants to just give up, let go.
And yet now you're sitting there, eyes closed, with your hand tracing your jawline to your chin. Moving down to your neck, enveloping it, the way I would love to have mine. Down to your breasts, cupping them, your already erect nipples in your hands. At your fingertips, as you pinch and pull them. Letting the moans escape from your lips, which sends waves of excitement towards me.
Then you move your hand down, past your stomach. Falling back onto the bed, now you've got one hand on your breasts and the other between your legs. And you're not holding back - time to play with yourself, full volume. As you can't see me, I move closer to the bed, but still keeping my distance, and my hands to myself. I watch intently as you rub your clit, strong circular motions. Your skin slowly becoming redder and wetter from the friction.
You flex your toes, the nail polish contrasting starkly with the white bed sheets. And a couple of seconds later, your moans change to words - or almost words.
"I'm-I'm...ohhhhhhh!"
For a few seconds the moans go silent, but I can see your mouth still moving. Slowly rubbing yourself, grinding into your hand, you finally relax again, letting your limbs fall to the bed. I watch as your breathing slows down, waiting. You've cum quickly, and I'm ready to increase the count.
Without looking up, you exhale one last time and then tell me.
"Ready."
I walk around to the far side of the bed, and help you get the blindfold on. Once it's on, it's time to check if it's effective.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
