DISCLAIMER:
Any and all erotic asphyxiation displayed within these and all MY stories are highly recommended for those who are truly experienced in the breath play fetish. Please, educate yourself and your partner before attempting this fetish and, always, use caution and precautions. Education and safety are a must within this realm of fetish!
"I'm meeting him at his place." Rosangela's voice shouted as she darted about her bedroom gathering up a pair of black vinyl heels.
Atop Rosangela's bed was her cell phone and from the speaker came Stew's voice, "So, another date night with the old guy, huh?" His voice chuckled.
Rosangela sat on the edge of the bed, worked on the spiked heel. She snipped, "Fuck you!" she giggled, "He sure in the hell doesn't look old."she grinned, "And, damn, doesn't act like it."
"Ew," Stew's voice continued to chuckle then he asked, "So, how many times you two fuck?"
Rosangela glared at her cell phone then said, "Wouldn't you like to know, you pervert!"
Stew agreed, "Yeah, I wanna know how many times you screwed an old guy."
She grabbed the phone then stated, "I gotta go."
Stew protested, "No, come on, details!"
She laughed then said, "Bye, Stew!" She tapped the pad of her thumb ending the call. She shook her head as she giggled and thought, Stew was such a nosy bitch.
She rose up off the bed, stepped to a full length mirror to check her appearance one last time before the cab arrived. She turned to the side, her hands smoothed down the somewhat simple but flattering wrap dress. She aimed her backside to the mirror then peered over her shoulder.
Her bright red lips grinned, knew exactly what she had hidden beneath the dress. Her thick black lashed eye winked at her reflection then she sang, "Damn straight!"
Near eight o'clock the yellow cab rolled up to the curb just outside the large once factory building.
Rosangela got out of the cab then handed the fee to the driver through the passenger window. She chimed, "Thanks." then she turned and peered up at the old historic building. She stepped towards the large double steel doors.
At the doors she eyed the row of names on the call box. Her blue eyes spotted author's name then she pressed and held her finger against the white button. She hummed as she held her finger firm.
From the call box came Victor's voice,
"Stop!"
She giggled then sang, "Hello, Mr. Hardway, it's me!"
Victor's voice commented, "No shit."
There came a buzzing and the double doors unlocked.
Rosangela again giggled then shoved open one of the heavy doors. She strutted through the somewhat lobby headed for the old elevator. She stepped into the elevator, pulled down the gate then pressed the top floor.
She stood in the elevator while chewing her bottom lip and slightly bouncing with excitement. She was actually going to be inside Victor Hardway's apartment. She was going to have a candlelit dinner with author Victor Hardway.
She frowned. Yes, perhaps the dinner was all her idea but it was a dinner date any way you looked at it.
The elevator came to a stop, there was a sound of classical music playing. Her eyes peered through the gaps of the gate. His apartment was wide open to the elevator, obviously occupied the entire top floor of the narrow building.
She bent down and lifted the gate. Her heart excitedly raced. Once the gate was up, she took a slow step forward, her eyes shifted side to side wondering where her date was. She took another step forward, listened to the soft piano music then heard the distinct sound of what she knew was dinner being made. She could even smell it, all the fragrant scents of oregano and other Italian spices.
She called out, "Hello!" She aimed the open toes of her heels in the direction of the sounds. She slowly stepped in the direction she assumed was the kitchen. She loudly sang, "Mr. Hardway!"
His voice called back, "In here!"
She shrugged and thought, where was here?
She moved around a dark brick wall and discovered a very open floor plan. The kitchen was within on massive room.
She smiled and continued his direction where he stood at a separating island and greeted, "Hi!"
He was much more casually dressed, no suit, just a simple v-neck sweater with the sleeves half rolled. Yet, she admired, he wore his signature fedora.
She commented, "So, just a guess, but you have a fedora for every kind of occasion."
He paused midway slicing the Italian bread. His head slightly lifted and he peered at her from within the shadows of his fedora. He smirked then replied, "I guess so."
She giggled then stepped up to the island and praised, "Smells damned good, Mr. Hardway."
He continued to smirk as he finished slicing the bread then stated, "Better be, especially after cooking it nearly all damned day."
She slyly tilted her head and eyed him. She sweetly said, "Thank you."
His smirk faded into a simple smile, he glanced at her then lifted his hand and tilted his hat to her in a welcome gesture. He delivered the bread to the dining table, candles and everything just as requested. He set the platter at the table center then pulled the chair out.
He looked to her then asked, "Shall we?" He gestured to the chair.
She gave a nod then giddily scuffled to the table and eagerly took the offered seat. Her wide and bright eyes scanned the traditional Italian dish looking positively delicious. She praised, "It looks amazing!"
He took a moment to light the two set candles. He simply smiled.
