Julie 28

Julie stepped out of the elevator on the third floor and impatiently stared at her phone. She'd been expecting a text from him that never arrived. She turned left and walked the few steps to her door. She placed the key in the lock, turned it, and heard something fall.

It was a small envelope. The kind that holds handwritten thank you cards.

She bent over, picking it up off the ground. She examined it, finding nothing but the words 'Open me' on the front. She opened the envelope, extracting the card. Her heart quickened, recognizing the handwriting. This was better than a text.

There is a box waiting for you on the bed. Open it and put on everything you find inside. Be outside at 6 PM. A car will pick you up.

Julie hurried to the bedroom, discarding her purse and keys on the oak, six seat dining room table she purchased last month at Ikea. Sitting atop her nicely made bed - she didn't remember making her bed that morning - was a white box with a blue bow. She opened it, smiled, and undressed so she could redress with its contents: a white garter belt and stockings, and a cream-colored pencil skirt with accompanying jacket.

Julie admired herself in the full-length mirror hung on the bedroom door. The skirt fit perfectly, hugging every curve precisely without restricting movement. The jacket's buttons were lower than she would have selected, displaying far more cleavage than she would have dared, but she had to admit she liked the cut. With nothing underneath, she just felt exposed.

She had the perfect shoes to match the new outfit. She dug through her closet, finding the box she kept them in. Low-heeled, close-toed Louis Boutin's, with a securing strap at the back. She slipped them on and returned to the mirror to confirm they completed the outfit. They did. She looked fit to seduce.

Julie considered doing something with her hair, a tight bun, maybe, when she heard a car pull up outside. Grabbing her phone from where she set it on the bed, next to the box, she checked the time. The car had arrived at precisely six, just as the card had indicated. A black Lincoln town car with tinted windows. The driver, a large black man with a silver moustache, didn't ring the bell. He just parked and stood by the back door.

Julie gave up on the idea of improving her hair and rushed to the elevator. The driver opened the rear car door as soon as she exited the building. As she slid into the back seat, he handed her another envelope, and closed the door after her.

He started the car and began to drive. Julie, hear pounding with excitement, opened the envelope with great anticipation as the driver made the turn out of her neighborhood.

You'll be taking a short charter flight. They will provide a light dinner and a selection of wine.

'What do you have planned?', she texted him on the drive. He didn't reply. She didn't even receive a read receipt.

Arriving at the small, private air strip, the car drove directly to a small twin engine jet waiting on the tarmac. The door was open, stairs down, with a red carpet at the bottom. A flight attendant emerged from the plane and descended the stairs as the car parked. The driver hurried to her door, opened it, shut it behind her after she stepped out, and drove off. He never said a word to her.

"Right this way," the flight attendant said, indicating the stairs. She wore a red business suit with a skirt to the knees, a bright white shirt, and a red scarf. She had blue eyes that twinkled in the evening twilight and teeth so white they looked like she cleaned them with a laser.

Julie boarded the plane hoping to see him. He wasn't there. Instead, towards the rear of the six-seat plane, was a small couch with an iPad and another envelope. Julie took her seat and opened the envelope.

The flight will take just over an hour. The iPad has episodes of your favorite TV shows and a playlist of your favorite songs. Enjoy them with a glass or two of wine and the light dinner they will provide.

"Please wear your seat belt for takeoff and landing," the flight attendant said, handing Julie a menu. "We have the following options for food and drink."

Julie reviewed the options, selecting a glass of Opus One cabernet to pair with an apricot salad with walnuts. The flight was uneventful, and Julie opted for listening to Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift while gazing out the window. When she saw the Vegas strip, she smiled. She always wanted to visit Vegas.

The plane taxied to a stop outside a hangar on the west side of Las Vegas MccarranAirport. Another car, this time, a Cadillac Escalade, with a driver standing by the rear door was waiting for her. Julie descended the stairs, walked to the car, and the driver handed her yet another envelope. She opened it as soon as the door closed.

When you arrive at the hotel, go to the concierge desk and give them your name. They are expecting you. They will give you a new envelope.

The driver took back roads to avoid traffic congestion. He stopeed at the VIP entrance for the Wynn Resort in Vegas. She exited the car, entering the private entrance and immediately found the concierge. She provided her name: Julie Piersma.

"We've been expecting you," the man said, handing her an envelope. He typed something into the computer, then picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"She's here," he said, and hung up the phone.

Julie opened the envelope. Inside was a key card and another hand-written note.

Come to room 2432. Use the key card to open the door. Enter the room, close the door and lock the bolt. Do not turn on the lights.

Wait.

The concierge directed her to a set of elevators directly across from his desk. The key card called for the elevator and preselected the correct floor. The elevator doors opened to a foyer with just three doors, one directly in front of her, and one each to the right and to the left. 2432 was directly across from her. Julie took a deep breath and placed the key card on the electronic lock. The lock hummed, whistled, and displayed a green light. She pressed the handled, opened the door and stepped into the room.

It was dark. The instructions said to leave the lights off. She left them off and closed the door. She didn't move. The instructions said to wait, and Julie waited. She held the door handle, her face resting against the door. She breathed in. She exhaled. She waited with the lights off, just as instructed.

Behind her, from somewhere in the room, she heard movement. Julie didn't move. The instructions said to wait.

The automatic curtains opened. Julie didn't know they had been closed. The bright lights of the Vegas strip shown in through the window. The room was no longer dark, but Julie remained where she was, holding the door handle, her face resting against the door. She breathed in. She exhaled. The instructions said to wait.

"Take off your jacket and come look out the window," she heard his voice say. Heat filled her body at the sound of his voice. She was finally near him.

Julie released her grip on the door handle. She removed her jacket, setting it on a table by the entryway. She walked over to the window across marble floors, her shoes announcing every step, and looked out over the strip. She felt exposed. She wondered if anyone was looking up at her window, and if they were, if they could see the nipples on her lime-sized breasts were hard. She liked her breasts. She was proud of her breasts. But her breasts weren't for just everyone. She wanted them to be only for him.

"Unzip your skirt," his voice said. It was deep. It was the kind of voice you would hear on the radio. The kind of voice you would listen to late at night, after drinks with friends, when you wanted to pleasure yourself before going to bed.

Julie did what the voice told her. She unzipped the skirt she only wore because it was in the box the original instructions told her to open. The skirt fell to the floor. Julie stood at the window, looking out at the strip, wearing nothing but the white garter belt and stockings.

She waited for further instructions. She didn't receive any.

"What now?" Julie asked.

"Await further instructions," his voice said.

Julie stood motionless, illuminated by the bright lights of the Vegas strip, wearing nothing but a white garter belt and stockings, and her Louis Boutin shoes. She hoped the shoes, and the ten miles she ran every morning, made her legs look great. For him.

She waited. She watched the cars drive away when the light turned green. She watched them stop when it turned red. She watched people cross the street. She watched people taking pictures with two women dressed as showgirls. She waited for her next instructions.

"Take off your shoes," he said.

Julie removed her left shoe, tossing it to the corner of the room. She removed her right shoe, tossing it in the same direction. More cars drove away at the green light. A new set stopped as the light turned red. Were any of them looking up at her in the window?

"Put your hands on the window," he said. Julie complied. It was warm to the touch. Vegas was hot in the summer.

"Lower," he said. Julie slowly walked her hands down the window until her arms were fully extended, and her back was at a right angle to the glass.

"Stop," he said. Julie stopped.

"Spread your feet apart," he commanded. Julie spread her feet just outside the width of her hips.

"Further," he said. Julie spread them further, which required her to move her hands lower on the window.

"Perfect," he said. Julie didn't move.

Julie felt something moving along the outside of her left leg. The pressure was soft but firm. It started at her ankle, moved up her calf, slid along the outside of her thigh, and came to rest just below the dimple of her left ass cheek. The process repeated itself on the right side. Julie didn't move.

Julie felt the left stocking release from the garter belt. Then the right stocking. She felt them both slide down her legs to her ankle. She stepped out of the left stocking, then the right stocking. She felt the pressure once again navigate up from her left ankle to the bottom of her left ass cheek, then from the right ankle to the bottom of her right ass cheek.

"Go wider," he said. Julie slid her feet further away from each other.

"Perfect," he said.

The pressure released from the bottom of her ass cheeks. Julie, still bent at a ninety-degree angle, hands against the window, felt hands on the inside of her thighs. She felt two thumbs rub the inside of her moist slit, then enter her, extract themselves, and enter her again.

"Don't move," he said.

Julie shivered as a warm, wet tongue split her vulva and probed as far as it could go inside her. The tongue continued with a circular motion as two, strong digits ran the length of her labia, pausing at the top each time to gently squeeze her enlarged clitoris.

Julie gasped for air each time the digits pinched at her now throbbing clit. She desperately wanted to feel something push deep inside her. Nothing did. The soft, rhythmic pulsing of the tongue had to suffice.

Julie's legs weakened. Her toes curled. Her belly exploded with a heat that spread throughout her body. Sticky, viscous fluid dripped from between her legs onto the floor as her body involuntarily spasmed with pleasure. She no longer cared if someone from the street could see her. In fact, she hoped they could.

"Now you are ready," he said.

Julie heard a zipper, then a belt unbuckling. She heard pants falling on the floor. She didn't dare move, hands still on the window, feet still apart.

Julie gasped when she felt it enter her. She felt complete, like a missing part of her had returned. It pulsated. In, out, in, out. Her body matched each inward motion with a surge of pleasure. Each outward motion created a longing desire to be penetrated.

Without warning, the movement stopped. Julie wanted more. She wanted more inward and outward motion more than she ever wanted anything before in her life. More than she wanted water when she was thirsty, or food when she was hungry, or money when bills were due.

"Lay on the bed," the voice said.

Julie rushed to comply. Throwing the covers off the bed, she lay on her back, knees bent, ready to receive.

"Reach under the pillow," he said.

Julie reached under the pillow. Her hand found something firm, long, perfectly shaped. She pulled it out, placing it inside her.

"Finish the job," he commanded.

Julie's hips began moving in rhythm. Each thrust enveloped more and more of the long, firm object she found under the pillow. One hand held firm the new toy while the other gently split the folds, caressing each side like stroking the ears of a dog.

Julie's whole body convulsed, drenching the bed in the fluids of her desire.

"Perfect", he said.

Shadows crossed the illuminated window. Hands grasped her breasts. When lips collapsed on hers, she met them with equal ardor. Tongue wrestled tongue.

Julie embraced the weight collapsed on top of her. She guided the heated poker inside her. She lifted her hips to meet each stroke. When she felt the hot stream of fluid pour into her, she used her legs to pull it closer, tightening her embrace to match the power of the climax.

They lie still for a moment. She loved his weight on top of her.

"That's all for tonight", he said, rolling off the bed. He pulled on his boxers. "You may leave now."

Julie lay still for a moment, recovering from the thrill of the evening. Slowly, she slid to the end of the bed, and began searching for her things.

"I said that's all for the evening," he said.

"Can I dress?" Julie asked.

"Leave everything as it is," he said. "There is a key card on the table. It opens the room to your right. We're the only ones on this floor. In your room, you'll find sufficient clothes to wear tomorrow when the car arrives to drive you back to the airport. We're done for now. I'll find another time to meet again."

Julie slid off the bed and found the key card on the entryway table where she had tossed her jacket. She exited the room wearing nothing but the garter belt, wishing she had at least retrieved her shoes, and quickly entered her room. Collapsing on the bed, she indulged the insatiable desire to masturbate one final time before falling asleep.

The next morning, Julie repeated the car-plane-car travel in reverse. Arriving home, she found an envelope with a thank you card and a note:

I truly enjoyed our time together. Must do it again. Don't tell your aunt we've been together.