It was a double date with my co-worker, a Japanese woman who has a white boyfriend. The boyfriend has a friend from England in town for business, and he wants to be set up on a date. I only find out much later that the co-worker asks me because her boyfriend wants her to find a Japanese girl who will "put out," and somehow, much later, when the stories begin to filter around the office, I hear through the gossip that I have a "reputation." Among my co-workers, I discover, I am the subject of innuendo and whispered stories of kinky sex and being "easy."
This co-worker who wanted to please her boyfriend thought I might be perfect to "satisfy" this out of town friend who wants a one night stand with a sexy Japanese girl. She asks me if I am still single, and even though I am not exactly friends with her, she acts as if she wants to do me a favour by setting me up with a potential good match, perhaps a long distance relationship with this wealthy good looking man from England. Little do I know that she is actually thinking of me as "available," perhaps even desperate for a good fuck...
That night I go from work with my co-worker to meet her boyfriend and his friend. I dressed this morning in one of my more provocative office outfits, still suitable for work, but sexy enough to be enticing on a blind date. It is a black dress, not too revealing, but fitted to reveal my hourglass figure. I wear sensible high heels, not too flashy or slutty, but underneath my dress I put on stockings and garters rather than my normal pantyhose, and a slinky lingerie thong that barely covers my lips.
At the restaurant, I am impressed with the English man. He is not too tall, but good looking and well built. Even though he is middle aged, it is obvious he takes care of his body. He has muscular arms and a flat stomach, and he speaks with a sexy English accent that seems to make everything he says sound wittier. Especially as I drink!
Too much drinking and too little food. After a few hours, I can't even tell how long, we leave the restaurant and go to a bar. More drinks and conversation, and I begin to warm to this man. He is worldly, and carries a confidence and self assurance that is attractive, even compelling. He and I begin to talk almost exclusively, and at some point my co-worker and her boyfriend leave the two of us alone at the bar. Suddenly, it seems, the bar is closing, and I realize it is long after midnight. I feel tired, and am more than a little drunk, but I decide to go to the man's hotel room after he asks if I would like to continue our conversation.
What did I expect would happen? Probably that we would have sex. That I would see what it would be like to sleep with him. He was handsome, after all, and was a good conversationalist. We walked through the lobby of the hotel, which was deserted, and I felt self-conscious getting into the elevator with this stranger at 2am. What kind of girl visits a strange man's hotel room at two in the morning? Did the front desk clerk think that I was an escort girl or a prostitute?
I realized that I had to concentrate on walking straight as we entered his luxurious room. He poured us drinks from the hotel mini-bar, but only took one sip before we sat on the couch in his room and kissed. There was no hesitation on his part. He was not tentative like many men, no waiting for a sign of approval from the woman. He was confident, almost aggressive, and I responded by melting and moaning with desire. He pressed me into the couch, smothering me with the force of his desire, and I began to pant in anticipation. Soon he was naked, almost posing for me, showing off his muscular body and erect penis.
And then my memory becomes spotty, to the point that I would recall later almost nothing of this evening, nothing except intermittent memories that would be triggered by what he said next--"Impress me."
Later on that phrase would unleash a trickle of memories, like fragments of a broken pot with most of the pieces missing.
But I cannot remember exactly what happens next. Did I in fact try to "impress him"? Did I slowly strip off my clothes in return, to show off my body in response to his? Was it not yet "bad" at that moment, nothing yet to forget, just sex play, showing him my firm breasts and toned curves to match his hard cock and hard body? Did I want to turn him on, make him mad with desire for me, just like I do on every one of my dates when I am horny and in need of a good fucking? Perhaps I went to his room thinking that if I could "impress" him in bed that he would continue to communicate with me even after he left town, that I would visit him in England, continue a long distance relationship from afar. I knew I was capable of it, and that he would enjoy fucking me—what man wouldn't!
Was the "yuckiness" of his manner, his arrogance, disturbing only in hindsight, with what would happen next?
Or was it actually that disturbing at all...?
The next blurred memory I recall is of both of us naked, my legs open, of him trying to enter me without a condom, and me saying "no."
