Sitting at a table in the center of the crowded ballroom, Kymberly felt she was under a spotlight. It wasn't just the shortness of the red sheath dress she wore that made her feel that way, nor was it that several hours earlier dozens of the people around her had gotten more than an eyeful of Kymberly's athletic, long-legged, busty figure in a skimpy gym outfit in the lobby.
What made Kymberly feel she was under the hot glare of the spotlight was the fact that, under the little dress, which hit her legs mid-thigh when she was standing and showed even more when she was sitting, she wasn't wearing any panties. Her husband Robert had told her not to.
A few days before the convention Kymberly had visited her favorite salon, and she had had every last spec of hair removed by wax. Now, hidden by mere inches of red fabric stretched tightly over her firm thighs, her pussy lay bare and, after her completion of Robert's latest challenges an hour earlier, noticeably moist.
To minimize the risk of exposure, Kymberly sat with her legs under her table, to which she had been assigned with seven other guests. She tried to talk to the person sitting next to her over the din of 600 voices. Most of the other guests sat at their assigned tables, waiting for the first speech of the convention to start, but a few stragglers walked here and there or gathered in small clusters making small talk.
Kymberly had recovered quickly from her nerve-wracking experience in the small ballroom an hour earlier. Her rival pharmaceutical representative, Kristin, almost had discovered Kymberly crouching naked behind the make-shift bar. Kymberly had left the small ballroom with her legs shaking, but they were steadier now. Time had done its part to calm her nerves; a couple of scotch and sodas had done the rest.
Now she sat with her companions at a table waiting for the opening speech to begin. She lucked out with the seating assignments; Samuel Lee, whose business she was trying to solicit, had been assigned to the same table and sat across from her. A few people who worked at his clinics sat with him. To Kymberly's left was a tall, dour, older woman named Gail who worked for the Food and Drug Administration. To her right sat a man about her age, with a small, pinched, nervous face, who worked for Samuel's company.
Gail, the woman to Kymberly's left, complained in a monotone voice about the hotel and told Kymberly that she had been stuck in the elevator for five minutes earlier in the afternoon. It was all Kymberly could do to respond with an occasional, "Really? I'm so sorry to hear that!" She wanted to engage Samuel, but he was on the other side of the table, and he was busy talking to a young blonde woman next to him.
The clock on Kymberly's phone showed that the convention officially would begin in ten minutes. The association direction would kick things off with a short speech. Dinner would follow, and then this evening and over the next day more speeches, meetings, meals, and workshops would follow. Awards would be given out and pious statements about the vital place of pharmaceutical drugs in modern society would be made and broadly assented to by everyone in attendance. But to Kymberly, the official program was just a stage set for the real show, which was sales. Kymberly didn't need to fly hundreds of miles for the weekend to learn about new developments about pharmaceuticals; she could do that in a few hours on the Internet at home. The point to being here was to meet people and convince them to buy what she was selling. Kymberly had been doing that for a long time, and she was good at it.
Kymberly hadn't received any texts from Robert, lately. She was glad to get a break from his games, but the longer he waited to contact her the more she worried about what he would ask her to do, and when.
"Kymberly!" Samuel called to her across the table. "We missed you when you left us on the patio. I trust your family is well?"
"Yes, thank you for asking!" she said. She carried on a conversation with him as well as she could, half-shouting across the table so she could be heard over the noise. She asked questions about him, throwing in a few about his business and plans to open more clinics, and what treatments they offered.
As Kymberly talked with Samuel she saw Kristin, at a table near hers. A much older man with a large mouth was talking to Kristin, but Kristin was staring at Kymberly, her eyes still and wide and dark like a cat's. Kymberly looked away from Kristin, unnerved by her stare, and concentrated on Samuel.
She believed she was making headway when her phone, which lay on the table in front of her, pinged again. Kymberly had switched the phone out of its mute mode so she could hear Robert texting her over the din of the ballroom crowd. It was Robert texting, of course.
"What are you doing now?"
Kymberly didn't want to be rude to Samuel -- already, two hours earlier, on the patio, she had pulled away from a conversation with him because of one of Robert's texts. But knowing Robert, he would be impatient and insistent, and he would leave her no choice but to respond if she wanted to keep up with his game. She did want to, so she would have to find a way of responding without being rude.
A man sitting next to Samuel interjected himself into their conversation, and Samuel turned to reply to him, giving Kymberly her chance to text Robert back.
"I'm at table talking with med clinic owner. Speech to start in 10 minutes."
"You don't have much time, then," he texted. "Excuse yourself and go to bathroom. Take purse and phone."
Robert, Robert, she thought. You are making my job so much harder. But she would do it. With only ten minutes to go before speeches started, she would have no choice.
"Samuel, if you will excuse me for a moment," she said. He nodded at her across the table with a polite smile.
She hurried to the bathroom. Other women seemed to have the same idea; all the stalls were occupied. Kymberly paced nervously outside them until one opened. She rushed in and closed it behind her; then she pulled her phone out.
"What now, Robert?" she texted him.
"You're not getting cheeky, are you? Does my exhibitionist need disciplining when she gets back?"
Kymberly was impatient. "I have no time for text chat," she wrote. "Speech to start soon. What now?"
"Open your purse and take out what's inside."
She did so, and pulled out the small package wrapped in black paper. She tore it open.
It was a vibrator. Kymberly had plenty of experience with vibrators, but she hadn't seen one like this before. It was purple -- Robert and his purple fetish, she thought -- and encased in a soft, almost skin-like material. It was vaguely U-shaped, with the ends wider and more bulbous than the middle.
"You must put it inside you," Robert texted.
"Now? You want me to wear this during dinner? I'm not going to turn on the vibrator during the presentation," she replied.
"You won't have to," he texted. "I will. It's on remote control and I already have synced it with your phone."
