Lexy Taes Charge

Three days had passed since the debacle in the parking structure, and Lexy was feeling ready for another adventure. As luck would have it, an opportunity presented itself through no action of her own. The previous year, her husband, Parker, had placed an ad in the Craigslist "For Rent" section, in which he described their studio apartment, and made it available for weekly rental during the Gem Show, when rental space was at a premium. Almost immediately, enquiries started pouring in, mostly from abroad, and together they settled on a Swiss jeweler called Marc. Marc wired funds to secure the accommodation for two weeks the following year, and that time was now at hand.

Since Parker was on travel duty, he emailed Marc to direct any enquiries to Lexy, and so it was that Lexy had found herself in an entertaining correspondence with Marc. After much back and forth, she volunteered to collect him at the airport tonight.

Their email correspondence had taken on a flirtatious tone, and Lexy found herself actually looking forward to meeting him. The two of them had an enjoyable IM session during his layover in Chicago, in which he had mentioned that he was a Google Plus user. She shot back that she was too, but that she used un nombre de red , and that it was highly unlikely that she would share that ID with a real, breathing human, in meatspace.

He wrote, "Hmmmm. Now I am intrigued. Perhaps I will ply you with drinks tonight and attempt to wring your secret from your breast."

There were just enough of these slightly peculiar constructs to remind her that he was NOT a native English speaker!

"Well, sailor, you are always welcome to buy a girl a drink...I doubt that you will have much luck with my breasts, though. Well, OK, maybe if you look like Jason Stratham, AND buy me a LOT of drinks..."

He wrote: "More pragmatically, how will I recognize you?"

"That's easy silly. I will be the old lady with a sign saying 'SWISS MARC'"

"How old?"

"Shut up and get on the plane!"

"Ciao"

"Hasta Pronto!"

********

"What to wear, what to wear?"

Lexy settled on an outfit that could look perfectly respectable, but was easily converted to much less so: Stockings, striped. Periwinkle blue scoop-necked dress of a nice clingy form-fitting material. At first she tried it wearing panties, but found that she didn't like the lines... With a string of pearls, a dark blazer, and moderate heels, she was ready for action.

With makeup, time elapsed was 26 minutes. "Assess and execute, baby!"

She popped online to check his flight status, got the cardboard sign that she had made, and headed south to the airport.

Twenty five minutes later, she was inside the terminal, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, sign up, along with a handful of others.

Marc proved to be a short, balding, but snappily-dressed man in his thirties. He was rocking an Italian suit, hand-tooled loafers, and a big, engaging grin. Lexy liked him on sight, and treated him to her customary all encompassing hug. He kissed her on the cheek in the continental way, and they moved off to await his luggage.

As they waited, she caught him staring at her intently, not creepily, but intently.

"What? Salad in my teeth? Lipstick smeared?"

"No. You are...perfect...It is just you seem very familiar. Like in movie star way...Your eyes...your...body"

"OK, keep that up and maybe you WILL be able to wring the secret from my breast!"

"No. I am serious. No flirting. I feel like I know this woman."

The arrival of his huge bag cut the exchange short, but Lexy had a sneaking hunch that he MIGHT well have seen her before...and while she took pains to never reveal her face on her site, her eyes were exposed in many of her posts. She easily hefted his bag from the carousel, and over his protests, left him to carry his laptop and carryon, while she wheeled the monster out to the car.

In the cross walk, he lagged behind, and called out: "it is more déjà vu. I have seen that sign, and you crossing this street...only not with my suitcase."

That exchange removed all doubt from her mind. On his last visit home, Parker had posted a pic of her in this very crosswalk, with these same striped hose. Different dress and different jacket, but still...If Marc knew her from her site, it was likely that he shared similar...interests. Christ. Maybe she had even IMed with him...

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Marc said: "I promised you drinks...Where do you want to go. Remember, with the Swiss franc now, the whole world feels like a third world country...At home I am nothing special, but here I feel like a wealthy man!"

"OK, big spender. We'll go somewhere that I wouldn't normally go and spend beaucoup de Suisse francs."

Lexy settled on an upscale yuppie bar that was located about a mile from her house...in case she really did wind up drinking a lot, she didn't want to have far to drive afterward. Plus, it had the added benefit of being a place that she had always shunned on the basis of the lot being filled at happy hour with Volvos, Benzs, and BMWs: No one would recognize her here.

The place was actually quite nice inside. The music was the sort of house/ambient/trance that she listened to, and the designers had done a nice job of arranging small circular booths in various dim cubbies. The effect was one of discretion and gave each booth the illusion of being the only one in the bar. Her only complaint was that it was overheated.

They settled in, Lexy explaining some of the Southwestern food items to him, and ordered martinis.

Before the drinks and snacks arrived, Lexy stood up and took off her jacket. "I am roasting," she said.

This time, with the jacket off, sliding into the space beside him, she did catch him ogling. Blushing furiously when she caught his eye, he was saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of the martinis.

"A votre santé!"

"A TA santé" he responded, emphasizing the familiar.

"Oh, YUM. That is one fine concoction. Maybe we should have come here sooner."

"But I just arrive. We couldn't come sooner..."

"No, US. My husband and me."

"Oh, Your HUSBAND," he replied, a little sadly.

Her first drink had already disappeared in the way of yummy first drinks the world over. As Lexy signaled for another, she said, "Something you should know about my husband. A) He is 8000 km away. B) We have an understanding. No secrets between each other. But I have considerable latitude in which to exercise my affairs..."

Marc brightened at this piece of news, and they chatted amicably while waiting for the next round.

His gismo al Diablo arrived, and they devoured it, along with the next round of drinks.

When the third toast had been made, he stared pointedly at her chest, and said trimphantly, "I KNOW where I know you from...You are in my smallest, most favoritest women circle in Gplus...You are Alexandria, sweetie, and I am Marc Devoire!"

"Well that clears THAT up," she said drily.

"I kept thinking, I know this, I know this...but it wasn't until you took off your coat...those breasts, Then I knew right away. I wrote an app to download every post of yours as soon as it comes in, because you would post something and then remove it...or google would censor it, and I would go back and try to find, and it would be gone..." Patting the laptop bag at his side, he continued: "I have all of you... everything of you on this hard disk. I never go anywhere without you!"

"Really. I'm not sure If I feel flattered or skeeved...So right now, even without WIFI, you can see my posts?"

"Ici...et voila!"

His laptop was a high end, solid state number and it snapped to life instantly...it opened to a picture of her as his desktop background! It was one of her husband's favorites, as well. It was cropped from the waist up, her laying on her back, red corset, one nipple rather discretely displayed, illuminated colored Christmas lights as a glowing necklace, and HER FACE, eyes closed, a serenely sensual compositon.

"Fuck. I though we took that down the next night!"

"Oh, yes, you did. But I am a fan. Maybe your largest fan. Look..."

And he flipped through a huge gallery of jpegs, more she thought than she had saved of her own pictures, all of her softcore public posts, and hardcore inner circle ones, as well. Next he opened a document folder and displayed dozens of chats, and emails and the texts of posts...all there. In color.

Seeing it all made her feel a little dizzy, and more than a little aroused... "Well, I guess you didn't need to ply with drinks after all, Mr. Obsessive Compulsive Detective. Check please!"

"Please don't be mad..."

"I'm not MAD, Marc. It is just a lot to take in. We post this shit and sort of think it just goes out there...You seem like a nice guy, but what if someone who is NOT so nice does the same thing...I don't know. It is just sort of freaky, that's all."

"Anyway, it is like tomorrow morning for you, so let's get you home, get you settled in and we can talk tomorrow."

The short drive home passed in a somewhat strained silence. The cool air in the parking lot had awakened her nipples, and though her mind was a thousand miles away, Marc could not help but enjoy the delicious view of her breasts straining the fabric of her dress, the smooth expanse of her thighs.

Once home she gave him a perfunctory tour of his quarters, and left with a hastily sketched wave and promise of "Tomorrow."

*******

Tomorrow came, and three martinis or not, Lexy was at the gym at the five am opening. As she went through her upper body routine, and then warmed down with 45 minutes of cardio, she tried to decide how she felt about the "Marc Situation." Normally, she would go home to shower and change, but today she decided to avoid the homestead, so showered and changed at the gym and went straight to work.

There was a slow stretch around four and she was able to pull her netbook out of her locker and check both her real account and the Alexandria one. One of the first things she noticed was a public post from Marc...

"Last night, a dream came true for me. I met someone that I have admired from afar for two months...and never thought I would meet in real life. In real life, she is even more beautiful, smart, and sexy than she looks online...and STRONG too...she lifted my suitcase, 30kg, like it was a feather. Vraiment, j'suis perdu. Vraiment, j'ai elle aime..."

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

"What's wrong, Lex, find out Parker left you for a 2 foot tall inca princess."

"Shut up Steve. Just, shut it. I think we have invited the house guest from hell onto our property. You still got any wise guy friends back in jersey?"

"You know what I always, say, babe...Killed dead for fifty, beat up real bad for a hundred..."

Later, she received a text from Marc, wishing her a good afternoon and enquiring about whether he could take her to dine...

Her response was terse, bordering on rude, stating that she still had about three more hours on her shift, she had been on her feet all day, and thank you, but no.

******

When she got home, she parked the scooter in front and let herself in through the seldom-used front door, hoping to avoid an encounter with Marc.

Leaving all the lights off she made her way to her bed, kicked off her clothes and collapsed. Safe.

She followed the same routine the following morning. Odd for a Friday, though, was the fact that the board was scarcely-filled, and by mid afternoon, she only had one more case to wait for. She pulled out her netbook and logged on. A private post to her from Marc was at the top of her queue. A photograph of several, a pile, really, of beautifully-wrapped presents ranging in size from tiny (earrings?) up to perhaps dress box size, with a large white envelope, "To. Alexandria" atop the whole...

In the post Marc had written: I do not wish to appear presumptuous by bearing gifts...but I missed Christmas and I fear that I will not see you again before your next birthday (you will turn 30, yes :)), so here are a few things that perhaps you would be gracious enough to accept. If you decide you can not accept them, well, I confess that I greatly enjoyed shopping for them (and met many nice, cute shopgirl ;))...so all will not be lost. I humbly await your reply. Also, I took the liberty of making reservations at a Zaggat recommended place. 2000 hrs, tonight. If you yes, car will make its way for us 1930. Ok? Cordially, Marc Devoire (...ta tenant detras....!!!!).

Again, Lexy was assailed with a disquieting cocktail of emotions. Rather than responding to Marc, though, she delightedly observed that Parker's green light was on disponible, a rare event on this particular tour. She bounced him the post, and appended a "What to do?"

In a few moments, Parker pinged back.

P: Well, who doesn't like to get presents. I think you are being a selfish withholding beeyatch, como siempre, to EVEN consider not accepting them.

Her mood instantly lightened by his utterly callous and insincere response, she shot back

L: yeah, but seriously...

P: OK, changes nada. Accept or don't. I say accept...You don't ever do anything you don't want to. You are not greedy. You will either act on HIS fantasies (whatever form they may take...he wasn't the strapon guy, was he?), or not as the mood strikes you. Honestly, I like the guy. I think it is classy not to just do what I would do-you know: give you a six of Arrogant Bastard and a welded butt plug, but to really go all out...You say he is snappy dresser? Chances are the fucker has taste...

Lexy closed out with Parker, and sent Marc a text. "Sounds great, how fancy is it? What should I wear?"

Instantly, he responded back (Does this fucker ever do any WORK?). "Clothes in boxes. OK, late Christmas open my place 1830"

"Roger that, Santa Claus. And...thanks"

Lexy got home before her shift typically ended, which afforded her the opportunity to have a snack, a quick shower and put on makeup. Since it sounded like clothes would be provided, she decided to wear granny panties, a lead lined decidedly un chic bra, and her longest, unsexiest, robe with fuzzy slippers to cross the yard to the studio. At the last minute, she grabbed a small clutch purse which contained some mad money, lube and a fistful of condoms... "better safe than HIV positive," she thought, though she had no conscious intention of letting things get so out of hand again...

Before she could knock, he flung open the door and greeted her with such genuine warmth and enthusiasm, that she was moved to quote from one of her favorite programs: "How can I stay mad at you, when..."

Marc looked at her quizzically and she explained, "Just part of a line from a show. No, I wasn't MAD at you. You look fabulous, incidentally. And leaning in close again, "and you smell like heaven..." She sniffed. "Fresh ground coffee. Bourbon. Woodsmoke. Notes of Mexican leather...and, chile de arbol...Am I right?"

He beamed delightly and hugged her again, "Come in, come in and Bonne noel."

He bustled around the small room, directing her to sit on the small loveseat, the pile of presents at her feet. An ice bucket with two bottles of champagne was cooling at one end of the loveseat, a tray with cheese, crackers, and olives and two beautiful crystal champagnes flutes waited on the end table.

He was fairly radiant with pleasure-clearly a generous soul, who regardless of any potential hidden motive, delighted in having someone to treat. He opened and poured, toasted, sipped, then handed her the smallest parcel.

As she oohed and ahhed as each layer of her outfit was revealed, Marc became more and more voluble and demonstrative. When all the boxes had been opened, Lexy excused herself to go and dress in the tiny bathroom.

Trying the long gown on first, she discovered that it was a perfect fit, black, sleek, side zipper but again, not a dress that would be forgiving of undergarments. She peeled off those that she had brought and pulled on the gorgeous, white patterned hose, slid the dress back on, realizing that she would need his help to zip it up. Next came the classic black high heels, the ruby pendant, matching ring, and earring set. A black mink shrug completed the ensemble.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Lexy asked if he wanted her hair up or down. He liked it like it was (up), and then handing her her glass, pointed at the ceiling fan and asked, "Did you see the mistletoe, sweetie?"

Lexy glanced up at the tired sprig of...Juniper? Taped to the fan.

"Huh, can't say that I did, and here we are standing right under it. OK schemer, I'll give you the 'mistelto,' but you still have to zip me up..."

Fumbling with the zipper, Lexy realized that A) His hands were shaking like crystal meth, B) He had apparently never SEEN a zipper before, and C) That he had a nearly complete view, all but the rosy tip, of her left breast. "Good on you, mate," she thought, then turned to give him the proper kiss that he seemed to have anticipated for some hours...

He stammered, "Uh, so no bra?"

"No, the strap would show in back. I love this dress. I love the totally open back..."

In heels, she was exactly at his eye level, and she found that she liked it. She pulled him to her, and began giving him the full treatment. Lexy loved kissing and had had a great deal of practice at it. Marc would need some coaching. Had he ever done this before?

After a first long salvo, she directed him to sit on the love seat and she perched alongside. Occupied as she was with her mission of teaching and mercy, she didn't realize just how high the side slit was in her skirt. When she sat, it quite literally opened up to the point of her freshly tanned hip. He was able to catch a quick tantalizing glimpse of stocking top as well.

They were well into the second bottle of champagne, and Marc was desperately hoping that his arousal was not obvious, when his phone chirped. "Oh, the limousine, I forgot!"

Laughing, they gathered up the glasses and the remains of the bottle and made their down the driveway.

*******

Dinner was unremarkable from a culinary standpoint, "So much for Zaggat reviews," Lexy thought, but it was utterly enjoyable. Marc was in fact one of the Nouveau nerd class, and while truly cultured, had never walked into a nice restaurant in the company of a beautiful woman. Those moments, stepping from the limo, stepping inside and approaching the hostess station...well, if he had died then he would have never known greater joy.

He won still more points with her when he asked for her advice with the wine list. "I know a little about the French and Italian, but nothing about the California. So please, if you order wine like you kiss, I will be very, very content."

Laughing, she suggested a bottle of J, and then clinked glasses conspiratorially when it was opened.

"Let's change sides," she suggested suddenly. "If I am on that side of you, I think you might get to see something that you will like."

"I already see a great deal that I like, sweetie," but nonetheless followed her lead. And indeed, the fall of the dress was breathtaking. Looking around, he noticed that her delicious display was being appreciated by at least one other patron, and as the meal passed, they both joked about how attentive all of the (male) wait-staff was. While other stations were neglected, there was always a young waiter hovering near them, hoping to be there the moment that the left nipple slipped out...

As it happened, the nipple slip didn't occur until they were climbing into the limo for the return journey. Both the chauffeur and Marc were reduced to silent adolescents. Lexy took it in stride and made the necessary adjustments.

"I don't know if you want to, but there are some nice views of the city from up here, if you feel like making a small detour."