Jeanne was in a funk. Joe had broken a long planned commitment for dinner to go out of town on business. A call to Arley further darkened her mood as he was also already booked.
Fuck it,
she thought, and decided to go to the gym take out her foul humor on a stair master and free weights. She put on her tightest spandex shorts and a halter-top. Examining herself in the mirror before departing she saw the "camel toe" at her crotch.
Fuck it,
she thought for the second straight time. Maybe it would encourage some decent looking guy to hit on her. That sometimes improved her outlook. What she found at the gym wasn't some decent looking guy; it was Kendall Ashe.
"Let's go to Pittsburgh!" Kendall exclaimed when he saw Jeanne. "I owe you one after the other day. I know a new place with great lobster."
Jeanne was flattered and pleased that he was taking responsibility for her getting lost. She went home to change while Kendall showered. She gave him directions to her house on his cell phone as he navigated to pick her up. Driving into Pennsylvania, Jeanne had the strongest urge to lay her head in Kendall's lap but resisted with only minor flood damage to her panties.
Kendall drove much too fast exciting her as much as it frightened her. On the drive into town, he called the Marriott and Jeanne heard him make arrangements for the room in which a black man would fuck her for the very first time.
Before dinner, they stopped at The Pink Pirate where Kendall had once invited Joe and her. It was much classier than she'd expected. Jeanne was sure she recognized a cute, young reporter who worked for a local TV station chatting with a player and there were, indeed, several upscale couples in her own age range present.
Sitting in a secluded corner, a waiter served Asti Spumanti and left a box on the table.
"Go ahead, open it," Kendall told her.
Jeanne gasped when she saw the bracelet. "Shit, Kendall, those better not be real," she cautioned, indicating the sparkling stones.
"Sometimes, one of our guests is very special," Kendall told her as she draped the diamond encrusted chain over her wrist.
"I hear pink stones like this are especially rare," he continued.
Looking closer, Jeanne saw that between each link was a tiny engraved letter. She tried to follow them around to read the message.
"It's the just name of the club, nothing romantic," Kendall advised. By the following morning, Jeanne would whole-heartedly disagree.
She tried to clasp it on her wrist, but it seemed far too large.
"Let me," offered Kendall, taking the bracelet from her fingers. "It's not worn on the wrist. Put your foot up on my chair."
Kendall spread his legs so Jeanne's foot would have a place to rest. A burst of passion ripped through her body as she was forced to look at his crotch in order to guide her foot. She was glad she hadn't worn stockings as his tender touch against her bare ankle, a spot so far from the major centers of arousal one might expect little or no reaction, produced flashes of heat everywhere in her body. Jeanne felt her orgasms (yes plural) still hours away, begin to simmer.
The dress she wore was the sexiest one she owned. Designed by Dominic, it had no back and the hemline was a scant inch and a half below where her labia kissed her panties. There was also a slit that went all the way to the top of her left hip requiring special thong panties. Dominic made those as well.
Jeanne hated wearing thongs but this dress demanded them so she permitted her tailor intimate access to her, front and back. She thrilled as his finger slipped across her pussy lips as he placed the thin cloth precisely. His silky digits pried apart her hot butt cleft to position the thong's rear string vertically and centered across her sphincteral circle. He even trimmed her soft pussy fur.
Her tailor coached her how to walk, stand, sit, and rise when wearing the dress. The entire package, the dress and matching panties, the posture and locomotion lessons cost Jeanne four blowjobs and she would have gladly paid double.
Jeanne was aware that those special panties were now on display for anyone who happened to look her way but she made no move to put her foot back on the floor after Kendall fastened the clasp on the anklet.
Later, at the best seafood restaurant in town, the Maitre'd quickly prepared a table with a view of the confluence of the Monongahela and the Allegheny despite a line waiting to be seated. They dined on lobster just as Kendall promised, but Jeanne couldn't taste a mouthful of her favorite meal as her mind raced up and down a list of things she wanted to do later.
Strolling in the park after dinner, Kendall held her hand, and then caressed the skin exposed by the backless dress. Dropping his hand lower, he cupped her derrière as other couples, strolling or sitting on benches, observed. Moving his large black hand beneath her skirt, he stroked the flesh a thong ignores.
He pushed her skirt hem up until the top of her "underwear" was exposed, framing the creamy cheeks below. He behaved as if she were his trophy to display as he pleased. Jeanne leaned her head into his shoulder, moaning and shuddering, knowing he could, and would, do whatever he wanted with her.
She closed her eyes to enjoy the pulsing of her blood as it entered her nipples, her labia, and her clitoris and refused to leave. Her mouth was on fire as she licked her lips sluttily. She knew she needed to suck something soon and, as if by magic, they were suddenly in a huge suite in the hotel.