Act I of III
A residential area of a major metropolitan city. Getting off the elevator at a very nice hotel or residence tower. O and A are walking down the hallway, it's dark in tone, not necessarily in light, although the lighting is toned down, probably recessed.
All the players are fictional, all the situations imagined, and only the fantasies are real.
She was 5' 6", and wearing an Armani suit like the one Jodie Foster wears in the movie Elysium. She wore the matching heels and she walked as if she had a cock and balls beneath her skirt, her face betrayed none of the sweetness to which I'd become accustomed. She looked, always as if everyone and everything were beneath her. The ever-ready impulse to demean and diminish you was her permanent resting expression. When she spoke to me, there was a flare of disdain. She strutted in front and I followed her down the long hallway.
Her silver Armani suit seemed to soak up the contrasting dark tones of the hallway, and I watched her tanned and nude calf muscles, which were mesmerizingly sexy. The backs of her silver heels and the hem of her above-the-knee skirt were like perfect frames displaying the most elegant film. I felt myself getting hard. The thrill of what was about to happen weakened me at the knees. I wanted to declare my devotion to her at once. Fall at her feet and embrace her. I would wrap my arms round her so my arms held the bottom of her glorious ass, tight and firm in her Armani skirt. Then press my cheek against her skirt, just along that precious valley between the pubis and the upper thighs. I'd rub my hands across every reachable surface of her and breathe deeply through my nose to capture her many feminine scents; her cologne was spicy and fruity, her hair smelled like a tropical beach, and the scent of her woolen and silk blended Armani was exquisite. She smelled like a woman.
But I just watched her walk in front of me. We arrived, the last room, and she led me into our suite. It was as elegant as her. A vast open space with a huge king-sized bed, a wall-sized TV, a breakfast nook, a living room set, and a small kitchenette/bar. The entirety of the facing wall was glass, overlooking the city skyline, outside of which was an equally expansive balcony.
We were on the 20th floor, so not very likely that anyone below could see us, but any number of the facing residences and/or hotels could see us easily, as we could also see any of them, if that had any relevance. It was night, and because she'd all the lights in the room on, and the blinds open, whatever we did was observable by hundreds of people. Then she spoke, evenly, casually, but also humorously, she said, "Go ahead and undress, pick a pair of panties and I've also gotten you a nice little pink babydoll, so think of that when deciding. There's a wig for you too. It's a sassy little number you'll enjoy, I'm sure. Then have a looksie at yourself, make sure you're presentable, and then present yourself for everyone on the bed."
Then the lights all went out save for one, there was a single LED recessed into the ceiling directly over the bed, which was situated such that, with open blinds at night, would be easily visible from any number of the buildings outside. The light dimmed, then shone at full capacity, then back down to somewhere in between those, and I began to undress.
On the bed, in the light, a potential theatre production is about to unwind. I see a half-dozen pairs of Vanity Fair panties in every color and style. I didn't even hesitate. Under the light, I began to feel that eyes have already begun to watch. I hear her making drinks, the clinking of glasses, and she puts on Yellowstone for background. She knows I like it, and she says she does too. The pair I pick is pink, gossamer, nylon and silk blend, full-bottom, an extra large, the way she knows I like to wear them. Oh god that heavenly feeling of swishing around inside the silky nylon is delicious.
"I knew you'd pick those," she laughed. She brought in our drinks, and she seemed to be enjoying herself. "I don't know why I even bothered with the rest." She smiled warmly and we clinked our glasses as she now entered the play fully, she walked up and kissed me. She kissed me like she owned me. I kissed her with undying gratitude flowing from my hard cock to my wet mouth and tongue. She kissed me and then handed me a gummy. The party was getting started.
And she played the part gloriously. She led me by hand to sit on the bed. She held out the pink babydoll and leaned down to kiss me again. I kiss her and personify devotion. She is my queen, and I see her in the reflection of the glass wall. Watching her watching me. I hold up my arms and she slips it over and it bounces into position. It's as if I'm directing this play now, as I watched myself in response to my directives, while complete strangers could potentially be watching us from any of the flats within range of our sightlines.
She shows me the wig. She wants to put it on me. It's a fiery, deep maroon, cute little bob.
"Would you want to wear it?" I asked boldly.
