Its Showtime In London

I was in London for a conference of chief finance officers and other senior leaders from across the UK. I don't normally stay for the gala dinner however on this occasion you had unusually said you wanted to join me on the trip. You said we could stay over and do some sightseeing over the weekend and see a show. This was how I found myself at the dinner.

The dinner was black tie so we were both dressed for the occasion, me in my old faithful d-j and clip on bow tie (even in my mid-fifties I still couldn't tie a proper one). Funny thing is that I had taken to keeping a couple of proper bow ties in the pockets of my jacket as I knew you always liked me to end the evening with one unfastened and hanging loose down the front of my white shirt. You had chosen to bring one of your many dresses, tight fitting on the torso and flared skirt, the length just below the knees.

I had left you to get ready in the hotel suite and gone to pre-dinner drinks at the bar with some colleagues and returned to our room around 7pm to collect you. I therefore hadn't seen you get dressed for the evening but seeing the black, three inch Kurt Geiger heels as I entered our room I knew underneath your dress was probably a black all in one body shaper with integral suspenders that were now attached to your black seamed stockings. We had taken lift down to the lobby and into the champagne and cocktail reception. The evening and dinner was a pretty staid affair, with the usual conversations around company performance, future prospects and eventual retirement. As the after-dinner speeches began we had excused ourselves and moved to sit at the bar in the hotel's piano room. I had ordered you a glass of Moët and myself a large Malbec and we chatted about the plans for the weekend as the piano man worked through a rendition of classic tunes, including, slightly ironically, The Piano Man by Billy Joel.

As we chatted I got a message on my phone and sheepishly explained I had to go talk to a colleague back in the main room. I stood off the bar stool, kissed you on the cheek and with my red wine in hand I walked back into the main room.

As I walked through the door I barely took any notice of a tall, black guy walk passed me into the piano bar, didn't see him take up the seat at the bar next to yours that I had just vacated and order a large single malt whisky.

As you turned slightly to look at the stranger you couldn't help but think he was handsome, easily six feet tall, distinguish chiselled facial features, clearly a large muscular torso filling out the very tight fitting white shirt that could be seen under his open jacket, the unfastened top button revealing a large, firm, smooth neck. Yes, he was handsome, probably as handsome as any black man you had ever seen. You pretended you hadn't really taken much notice and continued to move around the screens on your phone as you looked for a decent show that we could go and see tomorrow evening.

After a few minutes the stranger struck up a conversation

"I hope you don't mind me saying," he started,

"But I couldn't help but notice you appear to be looking for a show to go to. Is that correct?"

At the sound of his voice you looked up from your phone. The stranger was looking straight into your eyes as you replied

"Yes I am. Do you have any recommendations?"

About twenty minutes later I returned to the piano bar and as I entered the room I could see you were deep in conversation with a man I didn't recognise. Even some distance from the bar I could see you appeared very relaxed. It was quite late now, close to midnight and it had been a rather heavy drinking session for me this evening so I approached you, touched you slightly on the shoulder and said

"Darling I think we need to go to bed."

You looked at me and for a moment I thought you were going to disagree but you then turned back to the stranger sat next to you and stood up from your bar stool. I was quite surprised to see the stranger hold your arm to assist you as you turned to him and said,

"It was a pleasure to meet you, I hope you enjoy the rest of your time in London."

The dark stranger replied, smiling,

"Jules the pleasure is all mine," finishing with,

"And I'm sure my time in London will be amazing."

At that you turned away and I took your arm as we walked out of the piano bar.

In the elevator on the way to our suite I asked you who the stranger was. You explained he was he model and actor from America in London looking for work. You went on to say that as an actor he knew the London shows well and had given you some good recommendations on what show to see and also how to get the best seats at the best price. The lift stopped with a ping of the bell, the doors opened and we stepped onto the plush carpet of the hotel corridor, walking the few steps to our suite.

I slid the electronic key into the handle, opened the door and stood aside to let you enter. I followed you into the suite, walked across the large room then sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. The effect of the long day and the alcohol bringing on a sense of tiredness. You turned on the suite's Bluetooth speaker, connected your phone and selected a play list of best ballads ever, turning the volume so the mellow music was only just audible in the background. I watched you dim the light slightly as you walked towards the bathroom. As you closed the door behind you, I closed my eyes.

Your voice seemed far away, somewhat distant but still clear as you called my name

"Michael. Michael, darling, I need you to stand up," taking my hand and pulling me as you finished,

"stand up Michael."

I could see you stood in front of me and I noticed you had changed out of your dress, but you weren't wearing your usual night shirt, no, you had changed into some lingerie. It was also lingerie I hadn't seen you wear before. The outer garment was a sort of negligee, black but not full silk, more a mix of silk and black string like elements, meaning you could see through it as the tassels almost trailed almost onto the floor. In fact, as I looked, I noticed that it was your black, painted four inch heels that stopped it doing so. Moving my eyes up slowly I could see you were wearing white stockings, a strange combination with black shoes I thought. I could only just see your black knickers as they were mostly covered by a black corset, the six wide straps attached to the lace top of your white stockings. The corset finished high up, a few inches below your bra, which was again unusual as it was a white bra and one I had not seen before, a vintage, pointed bra with a silk and outer lace element covering the pointed cups.

I had to stop looking now as you pulled me so that I had to get up off the bed, getting to my feet so that I was stood in front of you. I was still wearing most of my dinner suit and you led me by the hand passed the writing table. As we did so you took hold of the chair with your other hand and dragged it with us until us and the chair were in the large space at the other side of the king sized four poster bed, where you spun it around so it was facing the bed and the back was to the wall. You walked passed the chair but stopped as soon as you had done so and then you turned around and spoke to me

"Michael darling give me the bowties you have in your pocket," continuing with more an order than a request,

"Then take off your jacket, trousers shoes and socks and sit on the chair."

I was quite intrigued to think where things were going but I wasn't going to disobey so I reached into my pockets, handed you two rolled up black bowties, then quickly removed my clothing items as instructed and duly sat on the chair, now wearing only my underpants and dress shirt.

I watched as you stepped a little closer then took my left hand, placed it on the wooden arm of the chair, my palm resting just over the end wood as it curved down towards the chair seat and leg frame. I watched as you then slowly wrapped the black material of one of a bow tie through the chair arm and over my wrist, watched each pass through under the wood and over my wrist until finally on the last time you tied both ends together, tightly once, then once again in a double knot. I watched as without saying a word or even looking into my eyes, you did exactly the same with right hand.

Now sat with my arms firmly strapped to the chair I watched as you picked up my shoes off the floor and then quickly pulled out the laces, then without speaking or catching my eye you used each shoe lace to tie my ankles to the chair legs.

Once you had finished you took a step backwards and as your eyes looked over me, examining your handy work I thought you must have been pleased with yourself as your lipstick red lips stretched into a wry looking smile.

You then lent forward and pushed your hands under my shirt, taking the waistband of my boxers. With some difficulty you managed to pull them down until they were at my ankles, they clearly couldn't go any further as my ankles were tied to the chair!

I was curious as to what was going to happen next, perhaps I thought, you were going to strip for me, maybe even then taking a pillow from the bed and kneeling on it in front of me, taking my cock in your mouth?

Then there was a knock on the door. At this sound you looked at me, gave me a quick wink, turned and began walking to the door. From the position of the chair I couldn't see the door to the suite and I wondered who it might be, wondered what was going on. A thought then popped into my head that maybe you had arranged for a small, Asian lady to call? We had after all discussed this as something that I would like to experience. Yes, that was it, that's what was going on. That was also why you had come to London with me as there would be lots of Asian escorts available for you to surprise me with, though as I waited for confirmation I couldn't help but think we hadn't discussed me being tied to a chair, unable to partake in the pleasure she might bring. I concluded this was part of your game plan, you and she could tease me for a while before untying me. Yes, that was it. That was what was going on.

Out of sight there was a click as the you opened the door to our suite and I heard you speak, though I couldn't make out what you were saying. A few seconds later you emerged back into view, and as you re-entered the room, I could see one of your hands was behind you. I didn't have time to wonder who or what you were bringing into our hotel room as you were immediately followed by the tall black guy who sat next to you at the bar earlier!

I could feel that my mouth was set slightly open now, I guess you would say a-gasp at what I was looking at. You were looking directly at me so you clearly knew this but continued to walk the few steps across the room, pulling the tall, dark stranger behind you, until you were both in the space to the side of the foot of the bed, in my clear view.

It was there that you stopped and started to speak, moving your eyes onto me then away to the side onto the stranger as he stood next to you, still looming over you somewhat even though you wore four inch heels.

"Michael darling, I'd like to introduce you to Marcus."

I sensed the darling bit was said with more than a hint of sarcasm and I sat there silently as you continued

"You recognise Marcus from downstairs in the bar, don't you? That he came and sat next to me and struck up conversation. Quite a bold move for a complete stranger don't you think?"

You let go of Marcus's hand (yes, the stranger now has a name) and began stroking the sleeve of his jacket as you went,

"Didn't you think it rather odd that we seemed to be able to converse so readily, so quickly?"

Then, again sarcastically adding,

"But you weren't in the piano bar with me for that long were you darling?"

We both knew you were right but I guessed you weren't looking for any confirmation from me.

"Well darling, as I said this is Marcus," continuing,

"Now I know I told you that Marcus just came up and introduced himself whilst I sat at the bar but, I'm sorry darling, that was a bit of a lie, you see Marcus isn't who I told you he was, he isn't a model come sometime actor from the USA who just happens to be in London, well the model and actor bit is true, but Marcus is actually from Leeds."

At this point you paused, stopped stroking Marcus's sleeve and fixed your eyes on me. Maybe you were waiting for me to say something but to be honest I didn't know what to say, my mind was busy trying to fathom what you had just said, the stranger in the bar not a stranger after all, a model and actor yes but from Leeds not The States. What the hell was going on?

When you realised I wasn't going to say anything you carried on yourself,

"Yes darling, Marcus here is actually a model and sometime actor but not from America, no he is from Leeds. And, this isn't the first time Marcus and I have met."

You then paused for a moment, maybe again looking for me to speak, but I said nothing. What could I say? Sure, I had many questions, too many questions but I wasn't going to ask any of them right now, so you carried on

"I decided some months ago that a show in London would be fabulous, but not any show, no, this would be my own show, a show for me and nobody else, so I started looking for my co-star. I found Marcus on a dating site and though physically he fitted my requirements perfectly, and he said that he understood my needs, I didn't know for sure if he had the right personality so I arranged to meet him for coffee," and you continued,

"As he walked into the cafe it was clear he easily surpassed my physical expectations. He was better looking in real life. After introductions we chatted generally about life. He had such a charming personality, calm, assured, sensitive but supremely confident. He immediately made me feel so relaxed."

"I decided to quiz him about why a handsome guy like him was on the dating site and he explained that he travelled a lot with his job, sometimes in a place for a day, other times for maybe months and this didn't help in building a long-term relationship."

Fair enough I thought so I asked the next obvious question

"Why me Marcus? Of all the ladies you could meet why did you decide to meet me?"

I remember nearly every word of his reply Michael, and being and actor so does he. As you finished Marcus spoke,

"Yes Jules, I do. I told you I like mature, white ladies, especially ones who looked refined and sophisticated and your profile and pics on the dating app showed you were both. You didn't share a face pic on your profile but when I first set eyes on you in the cafe you looked gorgeous. I loved how your red nails and red lips went with your red hair."

He continued

"I told you that you were so petite and perfectly formed, with a figure to die for. I told you how I could already imagine what it would be like to slowly undress you. Pleasure you. Pick you up and carry you around in front of me, your stocking clad legs wrapped around my torso"

Finishing with,

"I ended with - Jules please believe me when I say I think in you I have found my perfection"

You then spoke again.

"Michael my original idea was to arrange to meet up with Marcus again in order for me to ponder things before maybe taking things further but at that first meeting he had got me tingling so much with anticipation, especially when he said he wanted to pick me up and carry me around. I just simply couldn't wait. The excitement just too much."

You paused momentarily before continuing,

"Michael I could say I couldn't remember the last time I felt that excited but that would be a lie as I clearly remembered the last time. Yes, the last time I had felt that excited was when a certain Jonny Grayson had hit on me at our daughter Lucy's thirtieth birthday party. And, again when he messaged a few days later, sending me his phone number and asking me to meet him. A thirty year old, young fit guy wanted me! Yes, that was the last time I felt that level of excitement. But you found out and stopped me then, but not in that cafe a few months ago Michael. No, you couldn't stop me it that cafe. Marcus was definitely going to be my perfect co-star, and nothing was going to stop me. I had, however, anticipated this might possibly happen so I had showered and dressed for such a development."

Looking at Marcus you once again stroked the sleeve of his jacket

"So I asked if he wanted to start rehearsals straight away. He didn't hesitate. Twenty minutes later I was showing Marcus into our house! I can say for sure now that what a star he has turned out to be."

"Now darling you know that for any show to be a good show it needs practice and rehearsal, well Marcus and I have been doing both over the last few months, practising and rehearsing, yes, we have done both, at least once a week."

My mind was really racing now, did you mean what I thought you meant? The thought was crazy, but what else could you mean? With my thoughts racing I watched you move so you were stood slightly behind Marcus, and as you spoke again you took hold of the collar of Marcus's dinner jacket and slowly began to pull it downwards, off his shoulders then down over his arms and back

"Oh yes darling, we have done quite a bit of rehearsing. Marcus has become very accomplished in his performance, and feels totally at home in my show now. We have rehearsed in various stage sets, all in one theatre though, that theatre being our house. Yes, darling, we have practised and rehearsed in our living room, in our bedroom, in our shabby chic room," emphasising this with,

"Marcus loves the large bed and the warm lighting."

Again, you paused. Again I said nothing, too transfixed as you removed Marcus's jacket completely,

"But Marcus's favourite room in which to rehearse is our bar."

Pausing a moment to let your words sink in,

"Yes, you like to rehearse in the bar don't you Marcus? So many opportunities to improvise, opportunities to develop our roles. You especially liked to incorporate the pool table into our rehearsals didn't you Marcus?"

Marcus spoke,

"Yes babe. I like all the rooms in your house, and we have rehearsed in each one on many occasions," pausing momentarily Marcus smiled at you then continued,

"The soft lighting and large bed in the shabby room are very sensual. I do however think the opportunities for variety that your bar holds are awesome," grinning broadly and looking straight at me as he finished,

"And yes, the pool table is my favourite prop on our many stage sets."

Once Marcus had finished speaking you came back around the front of him so you were completely in my view. I couldn't help but think that even in your heels your petite frame meant that Marcus dwarfed you. And then you spoke again,

"Well darling,"

That phrase again, somewhat out of context, but the result being its meaning conveyed so many things, your control, your disdain, your superiority!

"What you need to do now is nothing. I know you can't move as I've strapped well to that chair, if you also need to not speak, after all the audience watching any performance needs to be quiet and this is definitely not an audience participation show."

If I had any doubt in my mind what you and Marcus had been rehearsing it was dispelled now. I could feel my heart beating so fast, almost bursting from my chest. Sure, we had talked about you and a hung black guy but this wasn't how I had imagined it. I had imagined that the elements of control would have been mine, that I would also be free to move around, that you would be participating a little reluctantly. There was none of any of these present now, you were in control and you seemed anything but reluctant, in fact, if I know you at all, I would say you seemed excited and feeling the rush. I also struggled to get out of my head the many rehearsals that you and Marcus had participated in, my mind racing through every stage set, our living room, our bedroom, the shabby chic room with my poem on the wall. The bar! The pool table! How did I not know? How had you managed to hide all these rehearsals from me?