Authors' Note - 'Mind Games' - is a series of stories that are a collaboration of SkywriterXXX and Manda Tori. The series was intended to give the reader a his and her view point of the character's relationship. Each chapter will change the narrator's gender and reflect the author's individual style. We appreciate any feedback, and hope you enjoy the combination of our writing styles.
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The subject line of the e-mail read 'Meet me?' My breath catches and my breasts start to tingle. The body of the text gave the name of a hotel downtown with Friday's date and instructions to go to the bar at 7:00pm. Nothing else, not even a signature.
This is part of the game. He picks the place. I pick who I'm going to be. Each message contains a different place and I change my look for each meeting. I get to be someone new, someone different each time.
Friday is two days away. I hit the reply button and tap out, 'See you there!' Then press send. Anticipation is also part of the game.
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When Friday evening rolls around, I find myself in the section of downtown that is experiencing a 'rebirth'. City officials are pressing renovation and revitalization. Resulting in pristine new office buildings rising side by side with crumbling old buildings that have been made into delicatessens and dress shops with their second floors rented out to lawyers. The outside of the hotel has been renovated to look the way the architect fancied it would have a hundred years ago. Standing on the sidewalk you wouldn't realize it was a hotel. But once you walk inside the marble tile, deep carpet and crown molding make you think of bellhops and room service.
Off the main lobby near the revolving door is the bar; an open doorway framed in dark wood marks the entrance. The décor suits the richness of the hotel with a subdued atmosphere that lends itself to the business crowd. The people are in suits and ties and the drinks of choice are martinis and scotch. The music is soft and the conversation is a quiet murmur; even at seven on a Friday. Looking around I'm satisfied that I dressed appropriately.
At first glance my clothes look like I just came from the office. A second glance takes in smoky stockings with seams running up the back of slim legs. The black skirt isn't tight but caresses my hips then tapers down falling midway to my knees. As I walk toward the bar, a tease of a slit opens with each step exposing another three inches of my left thigh. The blouse is white; tailored so that it dips in at the waist then flares out to lie over the top of the skirt. A hint of lingerie is visible through the filmy material. The first two buttons are undone exposing my neck and a strand of pearls that match the studs in my ears. My auburn hair is up in a twist with soft curls falling to frame my face.
I order a glass of white wine and turn to look down the length of the bar. Pivoting on my stool to glance around. The room is open with windows looking out the front of the hotel and booths along the wall opposite the entrance. Tables with groups of people are scattered around the room. Some with couples, others with numbers of four and five sharing commiserations about a hard workweek. The crowd isn't very large and the elegant atmosphere borders on intimate.
"Here you go Miss." The bartender says, "The gentleman paid for it." I look in the direction of his nod to see a familiar face among the shadows on the other side of the bar. I let out a deep breath; my eyes take in his business attire as he walks towards me. His jacket molds around wide shoulders. The color emphasizing beautiful eyes set into a ruggedly handsome face. My pulse picks up a notch as he moves close. The slow simmer I've been in since I first opened the message heating up to the point of steam.
"You made it" he says, "and right on time." I feel a flush of heat and a tightening low in my belly at the sound of his deep voice stroking over me. My libido remembers how his voice can turn gentle to caress like a feather or go strong and firm with a command, each inflection bringing pleasure.
My reply is breathy with suppressed excitement, " I wouldn't miss seeing you."
"Lets find a table", he suggests. Taking my elbow, he guides me toward the sidewall of booths. We find one that is tucked behind the hall leading to the phone and bathrooms. It is the last in the row, secluded, with only enough room between the table and wall to squeeze into the booth. I slide in before him. Letting my skirt ride up my thighs enough that a glimpse of the lace at the top of my stockings is visible. He notices but doesn't comment.
"How have you been?" he says politely. Staring into my eyes. Purposely not looking down.
'So it's to be small talk,' I think to myself. I slip into the role of long time friend. A little disappointed that his eyes aren't traveling down to my exposed legs. I spent a lot of time getting ready for tonight. I wanted to be sexy and beautiful for him.
Keeping my voice light and casual, "I've been busy. I always am this time of year. Work picks up and I can hardly see straight. How about you?"
As the conversation progresses, his eyes never leave my face. I slowly move around trying to hitch my skirt higher and higher until it frames my bare pussy. Smiling to myself, knowing he can't resist touching a smooth, soft cunt. He looks down. My breath stops and my nipples tingle. 'Finally,' I think. 'He's going to touch me!' A small, pleased smile plays around his firm lips. He lifts his head and the look in his eyes is almost enough to scorch me. But he continues with his story about a cab ride. Pretending not to notice.
Getting a bit desperate. I lean closer to him, brushing my breast against his arm and placing my hand on his thigh. His leg tightens at my touch, the muscle tensing then relaxing under my hand. He continues talking as if he can't feel me stroking his leg. My confusion and frustration are almost enough to strangle me. This isn't like any of our other encounters. He has never waited this long to touch me. In hopes of sorting out what's happening I excuse myself to the ladies room.
