Joanie Dates a Baner

After the Casino party I once again foreswore alcohol and became a normal, proper girl. No more outrageous exhibitionism, and certainly no more promiscuity. My best friend Mary did the same. Instead we enjoyed our boyfriends, Mike for me, and Tony for Mary. To my surprise Mike seemed OK with this, and only gave me occasional pressure to go on display for other men, so to speak, and I was able to resist it. This is primarily due to not drinking.

I still had some issues with other boys on campus, since they had seen my exhibitionism at the Casino party, and once you see a girl in your class walking through the pretend casino topless and almost bottomless as well, I guess you do not forget it easily. So I got a lot of looks, and some rude and disrespectful comments, but they became less and less frequent with time. I also got some boys who wanted to date me, of course, envisioning no doubt a night of unbridled sex.

I was quite pleased with my life. I was surprised that Mike seemed happy too, but it was all for the better. OK, truth be told, I really did miss my former exhibitionist behavior. Indeed, I missed it a lot. While life was good, it was now fairly humdrum, too. Bit I did not want to deal with the consequences of that kind of behavior.

So I got into my schoolwork with a vengeance. I had always been a top student in high school and was in the honors bubble, and things came easily to me. In college however I had to pay more attention and to work. I was taking computer science (my major), a literature survey course, a philosophy course, a math course, and an economics class. I entered with advanced standing in math and computer science, so I was taking advanced classes in those subjects and they took a lot of work.

My specialty was studying how to defend computer systems from hackers. I really loved the subject. In the process, I became a pretty good hacker myself, and I could enter well-defended systems and not even leave a trace of my presence, unless I wanted to do so.

In some sense hacking into someone's personal computer and reading his files, intimate or not, and him never knowing I had been there, was a thrill very different and yet somehow related to the thrill of showing off forbidden parts of my body to strangers.

My college was an elite one, with a mixture of the children of rich parents, and smart but poor students. Mike's family was rich; mine was poor. For me, the difference between $100 and $200 was huge, more than 10 hours work at minimum wage. Not so for my boyfriend Mike, for example.

I am telling you all this because it is relevant to what comes next. In the late spring of my freshman year, after my 19th birthday, Mike took me once again to a nice restaurant. He applied some pressure on me to take a drink. He seemed to want me to do so more than he usually did, and I could tell something was up. So I obliged and ordered the cocktail specialty of the restaurant, which Mike assured me was delicious. It was indeed.

I was curious what was up, but did not inquire, just sat there smiling and trying to look pretty. Mike finally got around to it. He has a cousin, Philip, who is much older. Philip is 27. (Mike is 20, and I am 19, as I said.). Philip is a banker in New York City, and he has been invited to dinner at the home of his boss, a high executive of the bank.

"Well, that's nice for your cousin," I said. "He must be doing well."

"Yes, quite well. He has become fairly wealthy." Mike never said rich; he always used the word wealthy, or the terms "comfortable," or "well off." I was a country girl, and I used the word rich, and was proud to use it. I did not have the finesse to distinguish between the different types of rich. For me, rich was rich.

A long silence ensued. Finally I could not stand it anymore, and I said, "It's always nice to learn about your many and varied cousins, Mike, but is there a special reason you mention Philip to me now, for the first time?" I knew of course that there was, but what the reason was I could not imagine.

Mike was still silent, so I added, "Is he coming to visit, or something?" I was reminded of when his twin cousins Eric and Alex came, and I ended up having sex with both of them, something Mike arranged and wanted. I felt dirty afterwards, as if I had been pimped out. It had been of course strictly my decision to fuck each of them (both on the same night; the night of the Casino party, when I things got out of control), but still, I felt I had been manipulated into making that choice. Those days were over for me.

Mike finally spoke. "No, he's not coming to visit. He asked me a favor is all. But it is a big favor."

"Well, tell me about it then. Maybe I can give some helpful advice," I replied cheerfully.

"The favor involves you," Mike said in a low volume, as if he were ashamed of himself.

"Me?" I said somewhat incredulously. "How in heaven's name could I help a banker?"

"It's simple, actually. Philip works all the time and has not had any time for a social life. He has no friends outside of work, and certainly no girl friends," Mike began.

"Doesn't he have male needs? Your whole family seems to be oversexed," I replied, again remembering the twins, not to mention Mike's own large appetite for sex.

"There are working women for that. Very expensive ones," Mike replied with some hesitancy. Then he quickly added, "All the bankers use them."

"Oh," I replied. "Charming."

Then Mike broke down and spilled the beans. "Philip's boss wants him to bring his girlfriend. Philip does not think he can bring a call girl as his girl friend, but feels he must bring someone; someone who won't embarrass him. He needs someone with an education, who is a sweet woman, smart, pretty, and hopefully sexy, too."

"Sounds like a tall order if you ask me. You are asking me, right?"

"Yes," Mike replied.

"Well, I do not see why you're asking me. I have no idea how Philip can solve this problem, without doing the obvious thing: He needs to go out into the world and meet someone, and then fall for her, and she for him. Why can't he do that?"

"The dinner is in a week."

"Oh," I replied. "OK," I added, "now I am flummoxed. There is no way I can think of to help your cousin. He's in a spot where there is no escape."

"He's a banker, Joanie. Bankers find solutions. In this case his solution is fraud."

Amused, I chuckled, and then said, "Well, that does jive with my impression of bankers, all right. But what exactly do you mean by fraud?"

Mike sat up straight in his chair and looked me square in the eyes, and said, "He wants to take you as his date. He wants you to pretend to be his girlfriend."

There was a long silence. Then I got angry. "Mike how many of your cousins do you want me to fuck, anyway? Stop pimping me out!" I said, a bit too loud. Mike sank in his chair, embarrassed.

"Joanie you have this all wrong. It's not a set up. He will not come on to you but will treat you with respect, courtesy and gratitude. He gave me his word," Mike replied in his most reassuring tone.

Then he added, "You will be doing him, and hence also me, a huge favor. And you may even have fun and enjoy it. Plus you will get an all expenses paid trip to New York City, put up in a fancy hotel, and given a budget to buy fancy clothes to wear on the date. You can of course keep the clothes. Money is not an object here."

I had never been to New York City. I'm a small town girl from the countryside. Mike had taught me most of what I knew about the sophisticated life. And he was right: I did like the finer things in life. And it certainly would be exciting to go to New York City.

Then Mike almost ruined the deal when he added, "And in addition to all that, Philip says he'll give you $1,000 for your time and his gratitude for helping him out of a jam."

It was beginning to sound perilously close to prostitution, it seemed to me. Anyway that seemed to be all Philip knew about women, judging from Mike's comments. Give them enough money, and they're yours for the night.

I said, "That is a huge amount of money. He's going to want me to put out for that. No way. Forget about it. And by the way, I'm not your thousand dollar whore." I knew he called me that affectionately, to tease me. It also turned me on.

But this seemed like reality. And being a $1,000 whore in my fantasy life was a whole lot different than the prospect of being one in reality! The former was erotic for me; the latter was gross and disgusting.

"Joanie, you are taking this the wrong way. He will be completely above board. He'll be totally correct. He knows you are my girl friend and will respect that. He only needs you to act like his girlfriend, not to be his girlfriend," Mike said in a torrent or words.

"You mean the way your cousins the twins respected that I was your girl friend?" I said sarcastically.

Mike replied, "Look my love, if sex is what he wants, he can get it anytime. And he pays much more than $1,000. More like two to four thousand dollars a night with a call girl."

"So he wants me on the cheap, I guess, because I am a country college girl and not wise to the mean streets of New York City and its high priced call girls? Mike, you're making this worse with everything you say. Sorry Charlie, no deal."

"Please, Joanie. Philip really wants to go with you. He's heard my stories about you, and he's seen pictures of you and he says you are perfect," my stupid boyfriend said.

"Pictures? What pictures?" I replied.

Mike blushed and looked sheepish.

"THOSE pictures??" I replied. There were still pictures of me naked or worse, right after sex, and some even during sex with one, two, or three cocks inside me, that were still circulating among people who liked such things. I had destroyed the digital files, but some people had printed them out, and when they lost the digital files, they just scanned in the photos and had them digitally again. Some of the pictures were still circulating informally.

"Yes, possibly," Mike replied. I arched my eyebrows. "OK, yes, definitely, those pictures. But that's not the point!" Mike was getting desperate now, and I was enjoying tormenting him.

"OK, Mike, since you want this and I love you, I'll pretend to be his girlfriend. No sex. Absolutely none." Mike nodded. I continued, "Tell me what this will involve."

I was however quite nervous that his cousin, having seen the pictures and probably heard all about the exploits with me and the twin cousins, would have expectations of a slut who would put out easily. But I was determined to take control of my body, and not surrender it to alcohol as I had so often done before.

I had caved, with dreams of a night on the town in New York City dancing in my head. Mike explained to me all the details, and quite frankly, it did sound like I was going to have a fun time.

I wore my best clothes to travel to New York: a low cut sweater and my micro mini, with tights and heels. You could catch glimpses of my breasts via my sweater, since my bra pushed them together and up. But it did not give a slutty effect, just an appealing one. Lots of other women dressed like that all the time.

A few days later I was heading to New York for the first time in my young life. I admit it: I was very excited. When I arrived at the airport it was already dark out. There was a man waiting for me when I left the secure zone, holding a large card with my name on it.

I approached him, and he greeted me, took my overnight bag, and led me to his limousine. Then he drove me into Manhattan to my hotel. He stopped in front of it, and a doorman opened the door and took my bag from the chauffeur and escorted me to the check in desk. I gave my name, was told they had been expecting me, and then the porter took me to my room. I thanked him and gave him a $5 tip as Mike had told me to do. My head was swimming.

The room was bigger than my parents' living room, and much better furnished. It was on the 14th floor, and I went to the window to check out the view. The drapes were drawn for privacy. I laughed. I opened them and immediately across from me I looked directly at the windows of another skyscraper. I realized that hotels in NY are ideal for exhibitionists.

This made me more excited, even. The phone rang, and it was Philip, asking if I arrived OK, and if everything was satisfactory. I said a simple "Yes," trying to hide my awe and excitement. He said he was looking forward to meeting me; Mike had told him great things about me. I'll bet, I silently thought. No doubt he was looking at the compromising pictures of me as he spoke on the phone with me.

We agreed to meet for dinner the next night after his work to get to know each other. This would give me time during the day to use my generous sartorial budget to buy fancy clothes for the dinner with his boss, which was the night after next. I planned to go to Saks Fifth Avenue. I had already Google mapped it. I felt like an idiot, because I had not realized Saks Fifth Avenue is (of course!) on Fifth Avenue.

In the meantime, I was looking forward to undressing in front of the window. But I was just not in the mood. I knew what was missing: I changed from my sweater to a proper but flimsy blouse and undid one too many buttons. Okay, actually I had undone two too many buttons. I removed my tights, and headed down to the hotel bar.

I had never before seen such a beautiful bar. There was polished mahogany wood that seemed to extend for miles. I found an empty spot, and climbed up onto a stool despite my very short skirt, and the bartender came right over.

No doubt I flashed my panties while climbing up, but then I crossed my legs, retaining modesty. So as I sat on the bar stool with my long legs gracefully crossed, I must have appeared to be 75% leg, sexy and appealing.

"Do you have a specialty cocktail?" I inquired.

"Yes ma'am," the bartender replied. "We call it Sunset in the City." I did not even ask what was in it. I simply ordered one. A couple of minutes later it was in front of me.

A man was drinking next to me, and he struck up a conversation. Naïve country girl that I am, I was flattered by his attention. He bought me a second cocktail, and then a third. At one point I learned he was not staying at the hotel, but at a cheaper one (called instead "less expensive") down the street. He just liked the bar at this hotel better. I could see why. It was gorgeous, and the Sunset in the City cocktail was as delicious as it was deadly. I was already feeling a serious buzz after just one of them.

He said he had never even seen a room in the hotel, and somehow at some point I agreed to show him mine and we left the bar together. Now I know what you're thinking: How naïve could I be? Well you are completely right. I truly thought he only wanted to see my room. Let's agree that I can blame the alcohol, OK?

When we were both inside the room I took him over to the window to show him the view. He surprised me by pulling me towards him and kissing me. Yes, naïve! I was not sure what to do. I did not want to have a fight with this nice stranger I had just met, and cause a scene. So I took the easiest option and I kissed him back, and we held the kiss for a long time.

When we broke the kiss, he began to unbutton my blouse. We were standing in the window, and all I could think about was that people could see us clear as a bell from the skyscraper's windows that were facing us. As I fantasized about that, too much time elapsed, and my blouse was off and he was unhooking my bra, and then that was off, too.

I knew I was being undressed, but I was so drunk I seemed unaware that it was a man undressing me. All I was thinking about was that I was losing my clothes in front of the window, and I was getting aroused by the exhibitionist component.

All of a sudden I woke up from my drunk, dreamy state, and I realized what was going on, and where this was inevitably going. I pushed him away, and said no, please. This was going too fast for me. Perhaps we could we sit down and talk?

The room had a couch and an armchair, and I sat, bare breasted, in the armchair and James sat on the couch. I think he was surprised I did not cover myself up. But the chair was positioned such that you could see it if you looked through the window, and I liked that idea.

We talked for a while, and I told him about my studies in college and he told me he was a businessman from Pittsburgh, in town for business for just a few days. Tonight was his last night. I was the first person he had met on this trip that he liked.

He seemed nice enough, and I thought of the classic book Fear of Flying, by Erica Jong. Mike had given it to me to read. She had this great concept in the book of a "zipless fuck." I had memorized the quotation: "The zipless fuck is the purest thing there is, rarer than the unicorn and I have never had one."

I realized sex with James could be my first zipless fuck. A one time sexual experience, with no consequences. I did not have to tell anyone about it; no one would ever know. The idea made me wet.

I walked over to the couch, sat down next to him, and began to kiss him. We made out like teenagers (well, I am a teenager, after all!). He lovingly caressed my boobs, tweaked my nipples, and even sucked on my nipples a little. He did the max with what I had presented to him.

He asked me to stand up and he did too. I walked over to the window. He smiled and asked me to turn around. He had a commanding, masculine tone, and I was drunk and when I am, I like being ordered around by a man. I find it a turn on. So I did as he asked. He unzipped my skirt and pushed it down and it fell to the floor.

Now I was in the window with only my panties on. As I fantasized some more, I suddenly realized he was pulling down my panties, too. He took them off, but for once he did it slowly, inching them down my hips, giving me plenty of time to object and to stop him. But I did not, and I do not know why. I suspect it must have been all the booze, the zipless fuck idea, and the exhibitionist component, which at this point I was really into.

Now I knew exactly where this was going, anyone would have known. It was the moment of truth. Surprising myself, I dropped to my knees and unbuckled his pants and pulled them down. I was behaving as if in a trance, sort of an out of body experience. Ironic, I thought, because this was all about our two bodies, and nothing else.

I pulled off his briefs, too. He removed his shirt and tie. I took his cock in my mouth and sucked away. I had just enough presence to realize if I gave him a blowjob I could escape being fucked. Although I was not sure at this point that I wanted such an escape.

He stopped me long before he came, and walked me over to the bed and lay me down. I said no, by the window, please.

"Oh," he said, "It's like that, is it?"

"I like to be watched," I confessed, to my own surprise.

"Not a problem here," he said and he lay me down on the plush rug, in front of the window and gently spread my legs, feasting his eyes on my most intimate lady parts. "God, you are gorgeous," he said. I could tell he meant it. I loved it. His hard cock stuck out above me.

Then he said, "Stand up and lean against the window. We'll do it like that."

I liked this guy. He got me. So I did as he asked and stood up leaning against the window, my legs spread apart, and stuck two fingers in my cunt and groaned happily. He approached me, gently removed my fingers, and stuck a nice fat cock in their place.

His cock was warm and filled my cunt and was just what the booze told me I needed just then. I was in heaven. It occurred to me that I did not even know his last name. (His first name was James, I had learned at the bar.) He did not know my last name either, for that matter. Perfect for a zipless fuck.