Author's Note. This story, inspired by The Art of War by Sun Tzu, is a study in willing enslavement. If you want to read the same story setup from the man's POV, see Nylon Conquest, Chapter Two.
We'll see more of Scarlett in coming stories.
Both parties here are willing, over 21, and they fully consent.
***
I held back in the shadows, watching. I choose to do business in this particular cave for a very good reason - there's lots of deliciously dark corners. Oh and my room is so conveniently up there, right at the top of the stairs.
I size him up.
Remember your Sun Tzu, Scarlett.
To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy.
Check.
He's with some boring asshole, probably his boss. But it's getting late and Cinderella's about to finish that drink and go back to his hotel.
Can't let that happen.
He's got virgin written all over him. Oh, he's got a wife all right. Probably a couple of kids. That doesn't count.
Better get his attention. Send over some smoke signals.
I cross my legs with an audible
swish
. I can feel the garters pulling on my Gio's. That always gives me sexy vibes. My Fully Fashioned seamed stockings are pure nylon. They're absolute heaven. When I cross, they have a voice of their own. Their soft siren call sends little fingers of sound drifting across the room to encircle his cock and muddle his brain.
"Get rid of him. Get rid of him. Get rid of him."
I light a cigarette. Give him a flash of me in the dark - the little spider with the glossy nylons. He glances over, then back to his boss.
I take a puff. The glow of my cigarette.
He looks again.
Got him.
They talk some more. Pretty sure my guy wants his boss to fuck off. Will he risk the man's ire by hanging back? His boss won't like it. We'll see how committed he is. See if he has any balls.
I slip my upper foot behind my calf, working my legs into a pretzel. I do a few Kegels. It's not enough. Briefly I wonder if I can get a finger on my clit, hidden here in the dark recesses of my little haunt.
Forget it. I really need to fuck.
The other guy drains his drink and slams it on the table.
Crunch time.
My guy hangs back. Says he needs another. Says to go on ahead without him.
Ooooh. I'm getting wet.
Sun Tzu: Opportunities multiply as they are seized.
I uncross my legs and stand. I step out of the shadows and slip into the next booth, near him. I know just how to sit so the slit in my dress rides up nicely. I cross towards him. I do it so he sees my garters. I want him to see the welts of my Gio stockings. So he can imagine them squeezing around his face as I sink my velvety pussy into him.
I take a puff of my cigarette and fix a stare on him. He looks back at me. I can see him trying to think of something to say. I consider helping him out, but I don't want to spoil the mystery. I stub out my cigarette, blow out a cloud, and stand. Giving him a long, lingering look, I turn and walk away. I give him a good show; this Chinese silk dress drapes around my gorgeous round ass perfectly. It's cut just right so he can get a good look at the seams on my legs, the definition in my calves. I give him my best walk; I can waggle my ass and swish the Gios like a pro.
So okay, I am a pro.
I don't get this guy. He still hasn't made a move. The wife must be really on his mind. He's going to need a pull. But not too much.
The greatest victory is that which requires no battle.
Check. I bet Sun Tzu learned a lot from his wives.
I decide to stop and turn back towards him. One last invitation. I pucker my glossy lips and kiss the air, right towards him. Briefly I consider a wink.
Too obvious.
Funny.
Funny I worry about being too obvious. But a girl's got to have a strategy.
I turn away and head up the stairs. If he follows, he follows. If he doesn't, well, I've got a date with a bunny.
As I reach the top stair, I hear a creak.
Mr. Rabbit stays in his drawer tonight.
Inside my lair, I turn to face him next to my big, soft, bed. He's closed the door, but he's lost, still undecided. Could this really be his first time? I step up to him, put my lips to his ear, and whisper the price. I feel him stiffen. The first-timers always react. He wasn't ready for that much. They never are.
But no-one has ever left my bedroom saying he didn't get his money's worth either.
I know what he's thinking. Only my regulars know I take Amex. But he's got something better.
I ask him for his business card. The keys to the kingdom.