The business dinner,
It's been about three weeks and change since I moved in with Laurie, the well to do lady I moved in with after a couple of months dating. Much to my surprise, along with her demanding set of rules, she announced as part of our living agreement she expected me to stay nude at home, only wear what she approved of and adhere to her whims whenever she asked. It had proven to be an exciting couple of weeks so far. My clothes were always locked up, except for my shoes. I'd gotten used to my daily routine as I tried to finish the novel I was working on. I'd go out to get the mail between eleven and twelve. I would work out from two to four and then finish writing until five or five thirty before stopping to make dinner. On Saturdays I would do yard work. It wasn't so bad since she had a riding mower. I did all the outside chores, tended to the bushes and the garden, cleaned the pool and took the two large wheeled trash containers to the road on Wednesday nights.
I'd even gotten used to the new maid. Tara had somehow gotten drawn into Laurie's perverse little game of control, agreeing to do her daily routine chores wearing nothing but a pair of high heels. She was a beauty and a distraction, seeing her move through the house, dusting, vacuuming, cleaning the kitchen and stuff all the while showing off her sexy five foot eight inch frame.
The last Friday in June Laurie had gone to work like normal and about five o'clock called to ask what I had in mind for dinner. I'd told her I was thinking steaks on the grill if I could use an apron. She said it sounded good but to put on three as we were having a guest for dinner.
"So what about what I'm wearing?"
I heard her chuckle into the phone. She told me not to worry about what I was wearing for dinner but that I could wear an apron as long as I was cooking. "Those sweet buns of yours though, better stay where I can see em."
It was about six when Laurie's car pulled in and I was getting the steaks ready to take out back and throw on the grill. I heard the door open and my heart kind of skipped a beat. She still hadn't told me who was joining us. As she strolled into the kitchen, a smile on her face and a couple of nice bottles of wine in her hand, she commented on how cute I looked in the apron. It was the only one in the kitchen and was a mock French maids apron.
"I'm glad you like it."
"Don't worry baby," she told me, coming up behind me and squeezing my right butt cheek. "You don't have to wear it once the steaks are done."
Speaking of. "So who's joining us for dinner?"
She poured me a glass of wine without as much as saying a word. I could tell by the way she was practically beaming that she had evil intentions on her mind. Handing me a glass she stood there, her white cotton shirt unbuttoned half way to her belly button, smiling at me.
"I have a friend that is away from home right now, from New York. Its' sort of a birthday dinner," she told me.
"Sort of?" I asked, sensing she was holding something back.
"Well, you know how it is, some people like to go get a cheap thrill on their birthdays, maybe a lap dance or at least see some strippers. I told my friend all about you. It sort of came up that you might make a good substitute for a stripper, especially if I was alright with things getting a little touchy after a few bottles of wine."
"Touchy?" I asked her.
"Well you know, if say you got your ass groped or if you got rubbed up on. Like a stripper," she explained.
"Sounds more like a private dance stripper than a floor show," I quipped, already nervous about the idea.
"You'll play along won't you. I kind of need this dinner to go well. It's kind of a business thing."
