"You sure talk a lot of shit," Ronnie chided as she took a long sip of her martini. Her eyes were deep green vessels that poured forth cool, unwavering judgment.
I was taken aback by her direct confrontation, and confused. I was a reasonably experienced date, enough that I at least knew how to be a little charming when I needed to be and very persuasive when I chose to be. But Ronnie had been combative all evening, and I was beginning to find it difficult and frustrating. I hadn't made her laugh or even chuckle. But I had made her smile, just once; it had been like a reward that I had to win more of.
Ronnie was a judge (which might explain a lot, in retrospect), 44 years old, probably five-ten (six feet with the heels) and three-eighty, though I didn't ask for hard numbers. She had advertised online as a professional woman in town on business looking for a man who could take her out while she was in town, show her a good time and "Perhaps I'll allow you to give me a foot massage, if you are smart, handsome, charming, and have strong hands", the ad had said.
The photo on her ad had stunned me. As taboo as it may sound to some, bigger, older women was my most favored sexual attraction of all. She had wondrous eyes and a cute, vivacious youth that seemed to shine forth through her, and she was slightly weathered and very rounded with age, which I of course found incredibly endearing. Her dyed-red hair was cropped short and was spiked, but its style was undoubtedly feminine, and the very red color very much became her.
Wild, unabated fantasies enthralled me as I had corresponded with her. I will admit that I was not interested in a relationship or anything of that sort. Not with Ronnie. This was pure fun, and I suspected that her ad implied that it was for her as well. Either way, I had felt compelled to make sure that I was the man she was looking for.
"Well, don't you? Can't you handle one direct question?" Ronne clanked her glass to the table firmly, and I stammered as I groped blindly for a response. She leaned forward, pressing, but her expression remained rather cold and lacked any real resentment. "You know, I'm so tired of guys like you. Mind you, you have your uses, as far as this kind of thing goes. But you think you're such predators, and that inflates your little egos even more than they already are. You think you can just do what any women what you did with the last, but you probably can't even please a woman properly." Her voice was firm and masculine but undoubtedly woman.
"Wha—?" I began, my face scrunching up involuntarily as I felt my face flush. But she pressed on.
"And for all the self-aggrandizing and machismo," she leaned back and held her hands up and out as she pointedly glanced around, "I ask to be shown a good time, and I get taken to my own hotel lounge? Classy."
I felt humiliated and a bit crestfallen that things had suddenly taken such a bad turn. Despite a physical attraction so intense it was almost painful, we obviously had had a clash of personalities, or bad timing, or whatever. Here was my chance to sound thoughtful, at least, and perhaps do some damage control. "Well, I know women like to be wined and dined, but—"
"Fuck your conjecture." She interrupted flatly, and took another sip of martini. She seemed about to put the glass down, but she paused, swigged the remaining drink down in a gulp, and began to gather her things.
"Hey, hold on. I'm sorry if this place wasn't good enough for you. You should've said something sooner. I think you are assuming at least as much about me as I am about you, here, so I don't understand why you're so angry."
"Oh, I'm not angry. I'm a judge; do you really think you could make me angry if you tried? This conversation's over, okay? And so is this 'date'. But you sure do look good, kid, so if you feel like shutting up and giving me a foot massage, I'll be upstairs. Executive suite one."
She stood and began to stride briskly toward the lobby and elevator. As she'd been sitting when I arrived to the date, I got my first real look at Ronnie's huge body up close. Although she wore an ankle-length skirt, the full shape of her impressive hips and ass were apparent as they wobbled and jiggled a tantalizing pattern at me. Thick, strong-looking calves clicked heels into the marble floor as she strode, rather elegantly and gracefully for such a big woman. Her upper arms were big around as my legs and seemed to strain the seams of her collared button-up shirt.
God damn. So perfect and I've blown my chance. As though she read my mind, or perhaps because she felt my obvious stare boring into her, she turned suddenly and yanked my stare from her body and up to her eyes. I expected her to curse at me or flip me off, but, always defying convention, Ronnie shook her head and waved an arm at me to come on.
I barely remembered to pay the tab as I fumbled after her, embarrassed.
*
I should probably just go. I have been humiliated, and I don't see anything good that can really come of this for me, I reasoned with myself at the elevator. What will we do? I'll give her a foot massage and she'll tell me to fuck off, now? But god, that ass! That huge ass and hips, and those calves in the stockings. I could imagine pulling those stockings off her calves and squeezing and sucking them and slapping them. I dreamed of taming this shrewd bitch, quite frankly. But she'll probably just string me along, I surmised.
When the light of Ronnie's elevator car finally hit the E for Executive and began its return trip, another man came to stand with me as I waited. I caught his eye and nodded curtly to him as I wiped a clammy sweat from my brow.
"She's really pissed at you, huh? That your wife?" I almost started at the question, but I held my cool and gave a shake of the head.
"No offense, but she's a little older, isn't she? How old are you, if you don't mind?"
The elevator dinged and as I fumbled for a lie, the man and I caught sight of a huge pair of black, lacey panties lying on the floor of the elevator. I felt my face go hot.
"Uh, you go on ahead. Have a good evening," the man said, stepping away.
*
I realized wholeheartedly that I was being completely and totally fucked with. There I stood, her massive panty in my pocket, one hand rapping on her suite door, the other on my hip. I was half horrified, half intrigued, half angry, half horny, and completely baffled as I stood there. My intent, at this point, was to cut my losses and get the hell out of the situation (to avoid any further humiliation, I wouldn't admit to myself), but first I had to have the last word. Even if she answered the door completely naked, if indeed she answered at all, I'd let her hear it and then leave, and I might toss the panties at her face in the process. It was an elegant plan, an appropriate forty-four stories in the making.
She opened the door promptly. She wasn't naked. But she stood with her shirt unbuttoned at her breasts and sleeves but still tucked into her skirt, as though she'd been getting undressed. Her look was cold as ever, but she had cracked a wry, crooked smile at me.
I stepped into the room, and began to spout. "So did you make this date just to fuck with me, or what? I'm through with this."
Ronnie closed the door behind me and lifted her shirt up over her head. Her huge arms and breasts wobbled heavily in the process, which I found intensely sexual, but I went on, determined to have the last word. "Wait a minute. You can't just insult me and then just expect that I'm gonna do anything for your pleasure, lady. I'm outta here." I started for the door, removing her panty from my pocket with the intent to return it.
But Ronnie blocked the door. Indeed, the width of her hips stretched nearly the entire breadth of the door; I would have to remove her physically if I wanted to leave. It was at that point that I realized how much bigger than me she was. She unbuttoned her skirt. It fell to the floor, and I stopped in place, my mouth agape. Her belly hung rested comfortably on trunk-like thighs that curved downward to stocking-covered calves that were almost as wide. The stockings were cuffed around the thickest part of her calves, accentuating the thickness of her legs further. Her round, massive tits hung heavily but snugly in her bra, which was lacy and looked expensive.
Without speaking a word, Ronnie approached me and roughly pushed me toward the bed. I staggered back and stood shocked for a minute, which was just long enough for the huge woman to barrel into me again. Her hands struck my shoulder with enough force to pitch me backward onto the bed. For a second I realized the absurdity of my situation, and I buried my face in the bed in a moment of consternation, and in order to push myself up to my knees.
