My Lana

Part 1

I walk in the door at Boyrdon Pharmaceuticals, leaving behind the slightly chilly outside spring air and traverse the huge lobby in direction of the check gates to the office area. I feel good and refreshed, squeaky clean, well made-up and elegantly dressed as I walk along, collecting a few short, hidden glimpses from a couple of delivery guys over at the reception desk as I pass by.

Yes, I feel good; I feel great, in fact. I wear my favorite executive suit, a grey jacket with a white blouse, with a knee-long skirt, a pair of ultra-thin cooly comfortable stockings and medium high stilettos. An elegant white scarf with blue dots caresses my neck as I walk, and my handbag match my bracelet and my light brown belt, making me feel even better because I know just how very well the colors match. Under my thin blouse my bra feels light and almost airy, lightly caressing my nipples as I draw my card at the gate and get welcomed in by a short 'donnnng' and a shift from red to green on the index panel. The glass gate slides open with a mechanical sigh and I step up to the escalator that will take me to my well- known collegial department at the seventh floor for another exciting day of demanding, but very enjoyable project work.

Actually I don't know why I feel so well this particular morning. Maybe it has something to do with the weather? The temperature has been perfect for several days, leaving me the feeling of freshness all the way from my home and most of the day at work. I can never have enough of this feeling of freshness from coming directly from the shower, with well-shampooed and wonderfully smelling hair, discretely laid make-up and cool and clean underwear that simply caress and adore my body as I move out to the car and then from the garage and up to the corporate building down town. Or maybe there's a sixth sense hinting to me that this day will be special.... That it in fact will change my life forever?

I practically sing my 'good mornings' at the young lady at the seventh floor reception, and sprays equally joyous 'hello's' all over my colleagues on the way to my office. Yes, this is going to be a nice day indeed, I can feel it in every nerve of my body.

I work with a new corporate presentation for a few hours, until Selma sticks her head in and wonders if I'd like to join her for lunch out, across the street at Preben's. Why not, I think, looking at my watch and discovering that regular lunch is almost overdue already. Actually she saved me from a starving afternoon -- again.

We go down and out into the street. We wait at the red light to cross as I suddenly notice someone about 20 yards higher up the sidewalk. It's a girl, and I wouldn't have noticed at all hadn't it been for the peculiar stare I feel almost like a glow in my neck. I look her direction out of the corner of my eyes, and then stiffen. Suddenly I turn and meet her eyes. My jaw drops and I get completely pale.

"Lana..."

I look at her like she should be a ghost. She looks back at me... smile a little sheepishly, like she is sorry to bother me simply by being looked at. Yes, there's no doubt whatsoever! Who can forget that dark hair, those wonderful eyes, those red lips and almost glistening white teeth? She's even smaller than I imagined, but still she's filling my entire vision, and I don't even recognize that the lights turn green, and that all the people, including Selma, start crossing. I come to myself and pick up the cell phone from the bag. As Celma turns to see why I'm not coming, I fake a call and just wave her on, indicating that I'll be along in a moment. Then I start to move in the direction of the revelation from a different world that all of a sudden had materialized at my side, here, right in front of my company's main building.

I walk up to her, blinks at her and grab her arm. I guide her with me as we continue some thirty yards further up, until we're round a corner and are away from any prying eyes of colleagues or friends.

"Lana," I whisper, holding her shoulders against the wall with both hands, "what on earth are you doing here?"

"I -- I just wanted to see you. I just had to see you."

"Really.... Um... but I..."

Then it strikes me. Torben and the boys are away for another day, so that actually isn't a problem. But I have an arrangement with Brita this evening, we are going to --

I have to smile. And I bend down and kiss Lana on the mouth. The hell with Brita!! I have no one else but

LANA

right here in front of me. Brita can wait till the end of days. She's so incredibly boring anyway.

Lana blinks her eyes. Looks up at me. Still almost staring. I realize this is the first time she actually sees me for real, up close, and I try to look beautiful for her... flash my best smile possible, but feels it stiffen like a piece of dry wood, growing completely unnatural and embarrassing. I let go of her shoulders, realizing I'm almost pushing her against the wall, she straightens a little and reaches up to stroke my cheeks with both her hands.

"Tantala, I --" her lower lips shake, and a shiny tear appears in her right eye and runs wetly down her cheek. I bend down and kiss her again. Fetches my hankie from my purse, and tap the tear away just before it reaches her upper lip. Then I look around with a snug smile before I again take her by the arm and set course for a different restaurant, at the Excelsior, a place I know none of my colleagues will ever go for a regular lunch break. On the way I call Selma, excusing myself that there was an emergency call for a client meeting, and that I would just have to skip lunch today.

Me and Lana sit down in the elegant restaurant and talk for a long time. We drink coffee and she orders a big ice cream, one of her favorites, as I try to settle with a small plate of mixed fruit. I drown in her eyes as we talk, immerse in their mysterious blackness, dive into her soul and bath in her beautiful interior as I admire her accordingly stunning exterior. She's just as beautiful as I imagined her to be from the pictures, even wearing the same make-up she had at the first picture she sent me. I just can't leave her alone. I touch her cheeks, her shoulder, play with her dark hair as she talks, and follow each spoon of ice cream as it disappears between those full, red lips. Those delightful lips that have already promised themselves to me a million times in her over-heated emails. I remember, all of a sudden, and feel myself getting moist down there... almost immediately. And then getting ashamed... almost immediately.

She keeps talking. Telling me why she came here, how she came her. How she found me. It was easier than I could imagine, and I decide I have to be much more careful with my personal information in the future. What if this kind of information, about Tantala Ray's real identity, should get into the wrong hands? What if

THAT

should be known by my colleagues in the corporate office? I'd be dead and buried, that's for sure, right away, no question about that!

She tells me how much she loves me, and I grab her hands and tells her my feelings for her. Her hands are small, warm and gentle, almost like angel hands. And her eyes... with those long, black eyelashes... well that's a pair of angel's eyes too, for sure. I just can't get over those eyes...

I tell her I'll have to get back to the office for the afternoon shift. She tells me she understands. After all she's come here as a total surprise. She doesn't expect me to just throw away anything and run off with her. She smiles as she says so, much more confident now. She knows she will not be turned away, she knows my feelings for her are as genuine as her own, and that from here on there can't be anything but love and beauty.

We agree to meet again in front of the hotel at 5:30. She's there when I come, almost ten minutes late, smiling beautifully and adoringly at me when she recognizes me out of the crowd of afternoon-commuteers. I smuggle her down into the garage and into my car, and then drive out on almost screeching tires to avoid being seen by any of my colleagues. I know the rest of the world isn't ready for this at all. How could it, when I'm not ready for it myself!?

We go down town. We have a light dinner at Strøget, walk down most of it on the way there, and then up again afterward. Even though it is light, I feel full and a bit sated as we're finished, and not as fresh as I did up until lunchtime. It's not warm, but still warm enough for me not to feel fully fresh any more in my clothes. But Lana doesn't seem to notice at all. She's admiring the charms of the Danish capital at the fullest, enthusiastically asking both herself and me why she hasn't thought of visiting such a beautiful place before.

Finally it's starting to dusk, and we get back to the car and head home. I cannot bring someone with me in broad daylight with my husband away and everything, even if it is a young lady. Lana is a stunning beauty, and people would be asking themselves about this, even if they wouldn't suspect anything about my sexual preferences.

I use the remote to open the garage door much earlier than usual, and again get inside on almost screeching tires to minimize the chances of anybody seeing us, although the darkness is already helping it a lot by now. We're inside and safe. Family is away for two days, and Lana is with

ME

, in

MY

house!!!

We sit down and have a drink. The tension between us hangs thick in the air. We've talked so much on email on what we would like to do once we would be together, but talking about it is different from actually doing something, obviously, and we both feel that difference intensely at the moment. I am thinking about preparing some dinner, but decide to call some catering service instead. Lana in fact insist that a regular pizza is okay, and I call for one with shaky hands. Then I excuse myself to the bedroom and bathroom to get a bit refreshed. The first thing I do is to wash myself thoroughly, especially down there, and then put on a good dose of my best perfume before I switch to a new pair of my best panties. I whiff at my skirt and find that it is tolerable, although I did let out a few small smellies during the day, without having any opportunity to vent it properly away on the spot, as I always try to do...

When I get back out again I offer Lana the same opportunity, and she's off with her usual wonderfully warm smile. She's gone much longer than me, and when she's back I notice that she has even worked over her make-up once again, clearly indicating to me that she wants to look her absolutely best at all times when she's with me... Oh how I love that beautiful girl! How I simply adore her!

We drink several glasses more of one of my husband's best cognacs. I thought of wine, but when Lana agreed without hesitation to my suggestion, we ended up with a four star 1998 Connisseur. There will be time later on to think of an explanation to Torben.

Finally we loosen up a little, and I suddenly realize that I can break the ice even better by simply showing her around the house. It's really not that much to show, but she seems amazed and praises everything she sees with a well-established display of almost American-like enthusiasm. I'm intrigued and charmed, and have to control myself to not spinning her around and kiss her to the end of days.

Finally we get to the bedroom, and I get shy again. So does she, apparently, because even her admiration is more reserved, and she seems almost afraid to step inside. I finally get around to encourage her, and she does, but we're out again after just a few seconds. I'm glad, in fact, because it wasn't that perfectly well organized since I didn't expect to have to show it off to anybody this evening, and especially not to the girl I love.

At least one more cognac, that's for sure. We sit down in the living room again. The pizza arrives, and we eat about half of it, but none of us are very hungry yet. I can feel how Lana stares at my legs and my skirt, and I feel even the fresh panties getting moist as new heat flushes through my chest again. I know so perfectly well what she has said about this, but now that it's real, I cannot believe that she would actually like to do something like that. Down there? Between those legs? Under that skirt?

Then she looks at me. Straight at me! Her gaze is firm and determined. I know the moment is here. I'm paralyzed... lamed... extremely horny and frightened at the same time. Am I going to make a complete fool of myself? Is this going to be just a big, unbearable embarrassment to both of us? And is it really going to happen... for real?

Part 2

I try to speak, try to be the urban lady I thought I was, the self confident woman who snaps out orders and get things done, the one Lana surely expects me to be. But I'm not able to say a single word. All that hard-earned self confidence is like blown away, and now it is Lana who seems to be most at comfort with the situation. I never thought of it this way before, but I realize how impossible it in fact seems to me, this notion that such a beautiful girl actually would like to put her face and mouth down there, between my thighs! I'm sure that even though I've washed and washed and washed again I

must

be smelling... I mean really

smelling

. And beautiful girls notice even the slightest hints of such things, that I know from my own sensitive nose. I hate it when Torben smells of sweat or dirt, or both. It's just completely intolerable, and I can just imagine how that must be for a classy young girl like this one. How on earth can a woman ever feel prepared for something like this? I feel an intense need to return to the bathroom for another wash, at least to dry the sweat off the palms of my hands. Or are they really sweating? Maybe it just feels that way? I'm not sure, and I definitely don't want to dry them along my skirt to find out!

My heart is pounding, and for a moment I feel dizzy. A chilling sting of panic shoots through me as I for a split second worry about fainting. But it passes over and I'm just plain nervous again, still struggling to think of something sensible to say to this revelation of beauty sitting right in front of me, just waiting to please me.

"I -- It's so strange to have you here. I mean... unreal, in a way..." I stutter at the beginning, but the end flows a bit better.

"I know," she almost whispers back, looking me even deeper in the eyes, "I never thought I would get the nerve to ever show up. But I knew I just had to..."

"I'm so glad, Lana..." I sigh deeply, and that helps me a bit. Her calmness settles me somewhat too, even though it definitely should have been the other way around. Still I feel that I'm coming a little bit to my senses, and realize I have to stop my desperate search for words; try to let it flow a bit more freely.

"Well, now you're here -- with me -- and I think we should have one more toast on that, don't you think so?"

As we once again click our glasses, I feel like a complete fool for saying such a stupid, utterly fantasyless thing. I've got to have

something

better to come up with, don't I? But it must be - no, it

is

- this thing about the moment of truth; that realization that so brutally dawned upon me after we had finished the pizza. Now is the time in our lives that it's all really going to happen, all these things that we have talked so many hours about, those lustful hours of passionate fantasies and wicked visions. I always liked it best when we discussed our story projects and the heated scenes taking place there, but eventually we had both -- more or less unconsciously, perhaps -- gradually moved over to the relationship between the two of us, with me being the senior partner and her being exactly what she is; the wonderful, beautiful, incredible and joyfully submissive Lana.

The stiff nervousness in my body is disturbed by small flushes of warm passion, and as I continue to immerse into the black depths of those incredibly beautiful eyes, the passion seems to flow into my chest and kind of wash away some of the discomfort and stiffness. It kind of clears my mind a little, and I feel a sudden capability of rational thinking again. First of all I am as clean and refreshed as I can ever be, even though I'm of course not as 100% as I was this morning. So if this is not good enough, it will never be good enough, and the whole thing will be over and done with. Of course I'm still worried sick about it, but right here and now there's absolutely nothing I can do to change anything, so it will have to be contact or bust!

That helps me too... that simple inevitability about it. I'm as ready as can be, and dear beautiful Lana will have to take it or leave it. But, on the other hand she'll be well prepared for the fact that she'll be in touch with a full blown human body, won't she? A body that smells and tastes like a body and not as an expensive bottle of Chanel No 5?

"You're so incredibly beautiful..." The words just drift out of me. Lana looks down for a moment, and I triumphantly think that she's finally gotten a bit shy or something. But then she looks at me again with her broadest and most heartfelt smile, and I know she's still very much on top of it all! I know she's nervous too, but she's got a wonderful capability of hiding it, at least to me.

"Thank you," she muses, blowing me a kiss across the yard of air between us. "You're much more beautiful -- and much taller -- than I even imagined..."

I cross my legs again, her eyes immediately drops to follow my movements and they stay down a little longer as the edge of my skirt slides a little higher.

I can feel my self confidence slowly coming back to me, at least a little bit more, and the sexual arousal takes over more and more of my bodily turmoil. And as I remind myself that I really

am

attractive -- many people have told me so too -- I feel calm enough to finally be ready to take some kind of lead on what is going to happen. It's unlikely that Lana will make any moves, unless things get completely stuck, that is. Or maybe she would, after all? Somehow I doubt that she would be so careful in real life as she likes her submissive characters to be in our stories. Or maybe even that is not completely true? Come to think of it, many of the heroines are actually quite forward in pursuing what they want, when they want it. So maybe Lana would be too?

But I don't want to find out. Somehow it feels right that I should take the lead, and at the end of the day I'm quite sure that's what Lana would like too, and I think it is what she expects. I suppress the last flush of cold nervousness and clear my throat.

"Lana, what do you say? Should we bring the bottle and the glasses and move over to the couch?"

Her eyes were down at my exposed thighs again, and they flash up as I start talking.

"Uh... yes... Yes, that would be nice."

I take my glass and the bottle of cognac and get to my feet. As I turn around, I take a deep breath and step resolutely over to the broad corner couch at the other end of our living room, working my hips and butt the best I can as I go. I just know I want to do this right... in a way that I hope Lana will understand and cherish... in a way I hope that she will love...

She brings her glass and follows a few steps behind me. I put the bottle and my glass down on the glass table and turn around slowly. Then I sit down on the couch, modestly stroking my skirt down my legs as I do, realizing now that my sweating palms were nothing but pure imagination. Lana puts her glass on the table too and move over to sit down beside me.

"No, Lana... there... in front of me... on the floor. Please."

Part 3

Lana stiffens for a moment, and I can see the naked nervousness in her eyes as the impact of my instruction sink in with her. Talking about it, even writing about it is one thing; doing it is something entirely different though. I'm nervous again too. Will it be just intolerably awkward, or will it in fact be as erotic as we have discussed so often? She moves to bend a knee, then shifts to the other, clumsily trying to find a 'decent' decent down to the carpet in front of me. She ends up almost falling to her knees, quite ungraciously. She's a little too far away too, and has to knee-walk closer up to me with swaying arms as her cheeks redden and here eyes seems to be glued to the floor in front of me.