The Games They Play In Monterey free porn video

Brander sat casually in the chair waiting outside of the dressing room, stroking the light stubble on his dimpled chin, gazing at the floor, lost in thought. He paused to check his watch, then resumed his solitary contemplation.

He felt a tug at the edges of his lips, teasing a subtle smile that he had no idea how to get rid of, nor did he want to. It was the anticipation, awaiting something he knew for certain would please him.

So strange for him to feel that kind of “kid waking up on Christmas morning” giddiness in his gut. Not his style, normally, and something he had trained himself to quell a long, long time ago as he meticulously moulded his persona over the years.

Still, the smile remained, and it was eventually joined by his tapping heel, his knee slowly bouncing, barely perceptible to anyone but him.

He checked his watch again.

Inside the single change room of the dress boutique, someone else was feeling giddy.

Meghan had lost count how often she turned and twisted in front of the mirror, checking her front side, checking her backside, adjusting her long, chestnut hair this way and that. Her eyes pored over every inch of the deep blue cocktail dress she had slipped on. Or maybe it had just fallen upon her like snow, the satiny fabric exquisitely light on her body and feeling so luxurious and cool upon her skin.

Wow. What a difference just putting on a frock made. A very expensive frock, to be sure, but still, within a minute she had transformed herself from Club Monaco to Club Exclusive with a simple garment change.

She slipped on the high heels and suddenly it just kicked up the whole kit a notch.

"Yowza," she said, unable to stymie her self-admiration.

The twisting and turning began anew. The spiked heels added length and tone to her legs which appeared to cascade out from the front-facing slit of the high skirt. Meghan always thought she had a slim figure, but this dress managed to carve out and accentuate curves in her body she never knew existed.

“Good ventilation in the back,” she mused with a slight blush. It plunged down to almost past the small of her back, stopping where the slope towards her bottom started, held together by a couple of thin, crisscrossing laces.

The front was just as daring. Meghan had always considered her breasts on the smallish side, but the cut of the neckline really make the most out of her modest bosom and cleavage.

Despite its revealing nature, the dress was by no means scandalous. What a fine balance between elegance and tawdriness, Meghan thought.

Finally, she stood up straight before the mirror and peered through her glasses at herself. An unexpected sigh huffed from her nose as she slanted her lips aside.

Placing her hands on her hips, she tilted her head back, arched a brow and said, “Hey good looking, I haven’t seen you here before.” After holding the pose for a second, she shook and chuckled with a self-conscious shake of her head.

One more anxious look in the mirror and one more deep sigh, then she turned around to exit the change room.

God, she hoped Brander liked it.

Brander looked up the moment he heard the change room door open. He had a second to reset before Meghan turned the corner. Now he barely managed to contain the “kid seeing the presents under the Christmas tree” look he felt trying to surface upon his face.

Meghan cleared her throat, curled a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. It was a seemingly innocuous manoeuvre, but one that managed to send ripples through Brander.

“You like?” she asked.

“Probably should. I suggested it, after all,” he said with a wink. “Looks great. That’s definitely your colour.”

When they had first met in a Vegas casino lounge just over a week ago, she was wearing a similarly-coloured blue dress. The style of it was completely different though, a simple velvety number that, while still quite appealing to Brander, accentuated Meghan’s youthfulness rather than her maturity. He decided to keep the colour and kick the elegance up a notch.

“You definitely know your dresses,” she jested as if Brander’s eye and tastes could ever be questioned. Truthfully, she knew it was likely he had gained plenty of experience understanding what looks good on a woman through intimate observation.

Brander stood up and adjusted his suit jacket before walking over to her for a closer look. He curled a finger against his lip to keep it steady as he pretended to cast a critical eye.

Meghan stood still, only moving her eyes as the tall, debonaire man in the Italian suit walked around her. She felt like a piece of art.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” she asked after a few seconds.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes, I think that looks really good on you,” he replied. It was an understatement. He had nearly stumbled when his eyes lingered a bit too long on her backside. Her round bottom already held a particular soft spot --or hard spot, depending on how and when he thought about it-- for him. The way her peach-cream flesh was exposed between the part in the back of the royal blue dress, however, acted as a one-way road sign to her attractively round posterior.

He stood behind her and they both looked at a mirror.

Meghan tilted her head, her eyes focusing on the dress and the man in the tailored suit behind her. The dress and the man fit. She, however…

“What is it?” he asked.

“Hmm?” she replied, distracted. “Oh, nothing. Yes, it’s really beautiful, Brander.”

“I agree,” he said. “So let’s take it.”

He waved to the shopkeep who politely nodded to him as she was finishing up with another customer.

Meghan blinked. “What? Oh, no, no. It’s alright. I can’t.”

Brander knitted a frown and grinned at her. “Did you think we were just going from shop-to-shop to play Barbie dress up?”

Meghan eyed him sceptically. “Brander, the words ‘Barbie dress up’ are kind of jarring coming from you.”

He chuckled and shrugged. “I grew up with two older sisters. You know, this devilishly sophisticated man standing before you didn’t fall out of the womb like this.”

“Yeah, the cufflinks would have been particularly hard to pass, I’d imagine,” she noted, then quickly added, “I can’t afford this!”

“How do you know? There’s no price tag on it.”

“That’s exactly why I know it’s too expensive,” she asserted. She regarded herself in the mirror and added, “First they make you fall in love with it, then they get you to sell a kidney to pay for it.”

“It’s not that expensive. Perhaps an appendix at most. And besides,” he gave her shoulders an encouraging squeeze, “I’m paying for it.”

“What?” Her dark brows popped. She turned, touching her fingers to her forehead as she closed her eyes and shook her head towards the ground. “Brander, remember back in Vegas when I told you I wasn’t a prostitute?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling with his hands in his pockets and rolling his head with a nod, “and I told you that I didn’t think for once that you were, nor did I think it when we first slept together, nor do I think that now. We’re well past that, don’t you think? This is a friend buying another friend a gift.”

“I wanted that sea otter mug back at the aquarium! You could have got me that!”

The shopkeep stepped up to them. The demure woman with blonde hair tied back in a perfect bun clasped her fingers together at her belly, smiled and asked, “Have we made a decision?”

“Yes, we’ve decided I can’t afford this,” Meghan said.

“And so we’ve decided that I can,” Brander followed up.

“Brander…”

“Ah, ah, the wallet’s already out… we don’t want to come across as having wasted this lovely woman’s time now.”

The shopkeep maintained her unblinking poise despite their kerfuffle; not as if she cared who got her her commission. She took Brander’s credit card and gestured towards the change room. “If Miss would like to change, I’ll wrap the dress for you.”

“Don’t bother,” Brander noted. “If we could have a bag for her other clothes, that’d be great. Thanks.”

“Wait,” Meghan said, frowning, “I’m wearing this now?”

“Yes, well, it’s already late,” he noted. “We’ll be having dinner, shortly. This way, you don’t have to go back to Monterey to change at the hotel.”

“I thought maybe we were just going to some fish and chips joint…”

“Not anymore in that dress.”

Once again, Meghan looked in the mirror. “So, I’m actually going to be wearing this?”

“You make it as if it's the Veil of Cleopatra,” he said, bemused. He regarded her in the mirror. “Trust me. This dress belongs on you.”

“Sophistication Level Up plus ten, definitely,” Meghan sighed whimsically as she admired herself in the mirror. “Is this what you call being ‘Brandered’?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said then winked and added, “Can’t wait to see what it’s like to be ‘Meghaned’.”

A tight smile curled her lips. “Don’t give me ideas.”

“I live for your ideas, Meghan,” he confessed as he left her to join the shopkeep at the boutique’s service table.

Meghan screwed her lips aside, then called out. “I’m taking the shoes, too!”

Brander looked back at her appearing mildly surprised but not in disagreement.

“What, you think I was going to wear my flats with this dress?” she scoffed. “Oh, and I’m paying for them, by the way.

Shortly after, Meghan and Brander stepped out of the boutique and into the plaza. As they strolled through the promenade, warm early-evening air blowing fresh from the nearby Carmel beach greeted them. It had been a long day, yet neither felt tired. No, they had somehow maintained a level of exhilaration that sustained and surprised them both, considering how they had every right to be exhausted.

It was hard to believe that it was such a short time since Meghan introduced herself to Brander, dressed and groomed as spiffy as James Bond 007 --the nickname she gave him-- in Las Vegas. She basically inserted herself into his plans as he had notions of seducing a sultry and sophisticated woman at the bar that evening. Instead, he found himself somehow hijacked out of his familiar schemes by a spunky, charming young woman who went deceptively by the name of ‘Ana’.

She took him around the city the entire night, leading him, dragging him around like a well-dressed puppy on a rope as they did silly, touristy things with glee and abandon. They basically played like kids in Vegas, Brander becoming more and more drunk on her beguiling effervescence until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He took her to his hotel for a late, long evening of volatile, heated, invigorating sex, the type he hadn’t indulged in since his college days, and for Meghan, something she had never done with a complete stranger.

And then she was gone.

Meghan had slipped away in the wee hours before dawn and then left the desert playground with the rest of her friends for a wedding in the lush pine and mountain lined environs of Lake Tahoe. That turned out to be a nightmare with Meghan looking for escape the entire day from the torment of being a bridesmaid at a raucous wedding.

To her surprise, it was Brander who came to her rescue, causing a ruckus of his own before whisking her away to a sailboat. At first, their evening sail was a calm and welcome break from the calamity of the wedding, but after an impromptu swim --Meghan fell into the lake-- they once again found themselves in a desperate embrace, consuming one another, indulging in another session of passionate sex below deck.

This time, Brander wouldn’t allow her out of his sight afterwards. Well, she chose to stay with him at least a little while longer before the next university year started.

They drove his convertible to Monterey, arrived by mid-afternoon and checked into a hotel with an exquisite view of the Bay. They stayed in the room, alternately having more sex or lounging around naked in bed or on the balcony in each other’s arms with the only break from the routine coming around dinner time.

Then, the following day, it was Vegas all over again with Meghan insisting they hit all the touristy spots and activities --the Aquarium, saltwater taffy shopping at Cannery Row, searching for otters-- and Brander going along with it in his slick coat and slacks. At least he removed his tie and dropped a couple of buttons from his collar to feign a modicum of casualness. Still, despite some teasing, Meghan didn’t mind. The man wore a suit like the Devil wore fire, burning hot.

Later in the day, they drove through the 17-Mile Drive to Carmel By The Sea for a stroll through the seaside town before dinner. They ended up shopping at some of the ritzier stores in the area, but Meghan never thought she would come out wearing a dress that would probably cover a couple month’s rent for her.

“You shouldn’t have had to buy this for me,” she said still feeling guilty while they sat for dinner.

“I didn’t have to,” Brander acknowledged, “but I wanted to.”

She looked into her glass of wine before raising it to her lips. “Hmm. I mean I shouldn't have let you. I should have protested more,” she said, then took a sip.

“I’m afraid I’m a hard man to say no to sometimes,” he admitted. As he admired how attractive she looked across the table illuminated by candlelight, it reinforced the thought that it was good to take control of matters sometimes.

“I could have kicked and screamed… thrown a tantrum,” Meghan replied with an impish grin. “Screamed, ‘Daddy! Daddy! I don’t wanna wear the luxurious dress!’”

Considering their age difference, that would have been quite amusing calling him ‘Daddy’.

Brander fixed her with a wry smile. “That’s not something becoming of a young lady. You would have needed to be disciplined.”

“‘Discipline’? Really?” She chuckled, her eyebrows peaking in the middle above her glasses. She took another sip of wine, swallowed hard and added, “Well, we’re already having dinner, so I know I’m not going to be sent to my bed hungry. What else would you have in mind?”

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly on her as he measured her and his response. Matching her taunting grin, he leaned forward with his hands folded together on the table and said with deliberateness, “I think corporal punishment would be called for if that’s what you’re suggesting. And I’m not above it.”

Meghan’s nose twitched. “Hmm. We're talking a spanking, are we?” she asked. She wasn’t backing down.

Brander leaned back taking up his glass of whiskey, throwing her a provocative gaze of his icy blue eyes before taking a sip.

“How about this? Me lying across your knees, hands tied, eyes blind-folded, bare-bottomed in nothing but a garter and pantyhose,” Meghan said in a low, silky voice.

He rolled the liquor languidly in his mouth, eyes tethered to hers. Suddenly, he tensed, his jaw set firmly as he felt Meghan trace her foot up his leg beneath the table.

Meghan looked at his large, strong hands. “You slapping my tushy red with those rug beaters of yours?”

She was really getting caught up in this. Brander wasn’t the type of man who squirmed, always confident, always assured, and he still gave no obvious indication of being anxious at the moment. In her gut, though, she knew she had rattled him with her words and with her foot teasing provocative against his thighs and crotch. This was fun.

“My nude body twisting and flinching on your lap with each smack. My crimson bum shifting slowly, anticipating the next swat. Me groaning for more,” she continued, aching the word “groaning” from her throat.

Brander consciously steadied his breath. Enticing visuals of her red-smacked bottom and the crisp sounds of his hand cracking upon smooth bare flesh suddenly filled his head, knocking his brain for a loop. His gulp as he swallowed the whiskey was audible and the bob of his pronounced Adam’s Apple didn’t go unnoticed by the young woman across the table.

Despite her zealous suggestions and blatant teasing of her toes along the rigid line of his shaft, Meghan knew she was playing a game of chicken with a hardened competitor. Behind tightly sealed lips, she rolled her tongue anxiously along the back of her teeth. As she looked at him fixing her with an unexpectedly intense gaze, she wasn’t sure how long she could maintain eye contact.

“You’re being very naughty, Meghan,” Brander cautioned. He clenched, tightening his gut as she brushed her toes up and down his crotch, pushing back against her with a deliberate throb of his stiffening cock. Judging by her momentary pause, she definitely felt that.

“Then I guess there’s no way around it, Brander.” As her heart beat faster, her brow twitched. "Are you really capable of dishing out such… viciousness?"

Brander's hesitancy to reply unexpectedly made them both question where exactly this conversation was taking them. Neither was sure if they were still playing around.

He bought some time by clearing his throat.

"Vichysoisse."

Meghan jumped back in her seat, nearly kicking the underside of the table as she pulled her foot back. Both of them blinked and looked aside and up. She stammered, "Wh-what?"

The waiter placed a bowl of soup on the table before her. "Your soup, miss. Vichyssoise."

“‘Vichy…’? Oh. Such a fancy name for such a simple soup,” she said, pursing her lips and nodding blankly. She continued to stare at it.

The tense moment was shattered by the arrival of the cold potato-leek puree.

Brander chuckled but felt the relief as well. He exhaled audibly before starting to eat.

As they enjoyed their soup, Brander asked, "Is that what every woman fantasizes about now when they see a man in an upscale suit? Fifty Shades of Grey?"

"I bet you're embarrassed just uttering that title, aren't you?" Meghan joked.

"Yes, very much so," he conceded.

"No, not any man," Meghan said, grinning. She wiggled her shoulders teasingly. "Just the cool, dashing ones in zippy suits."

After appetizers, Brander excused himself to go to the men’s room, leaving Meghan to properly reset. She glanced around the restaurant, a lovely, romantic place with nooks and alcoves laid out in dark mahogany and lit by candlelight. Small tables seemed to be strategically placed to enhance privacy, perfect for a rendezvous and intimate company.

There was a compelling murmur in the air of several other couples engaged in relaxed conversation, speaking in hushed tones. Meghan discreetly observed each set, all of them settled comfortably in their own small bubbles. They all seemed well-matched with each other. She also paid particular attention to the women, all looking so refined, so sophisticated, so comfortable in their skin and lovely dresses regardless if they were young or old.

Meghan turned away to look through the window to the dark boulevard outside and sighed. It took her a moment to notice Brander’s reflection in the glass off to the side as he stood casually by the table.

She turned and looked up, curious. “Oh! Why are you just standing there?”

“Just taking a moment to reflect on how lucky I am to keep the company of a beautiful lady,” he remarked.

“‘Beautiful lady’,” she sniffed, rolling her eyes. “It’s this dress. Take it away and I’m just some nerdy post-grad playing dress-up.”

Brander frowned as he sat down. “Are you still on about the dress? Why are you suddenly so hard on yourself?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, floundering. “It’s a lovely dress, Brander, and thank you so much for buying it and saying it looks good on me, but…”

“Don’t make it sound like you’re the one who has to be worthy of wearing it. It’s the exact opposite.”

Meghan smirked. “Yeah, like Excalibur is a dress. I’m no Queen Arthur, I guess.”

Brander snickered and shook his head as he regarded her. Even her silly notions were appealing.

“It’s not that, Brander. Not really.”

“What is it, then?”

He watched her eyes glance around the restaurant, checking the other women.

She cast him an interrogative look. “I approached you in Vegas, right?”

“Yes.”

“You know, I had been sitting alone at the bar for almost thirty minutes just watching you. I’m pretty certain I was in your field of vision. You were focused on that woman sitting in the booth, I know, but you must have noticed a woman sitting there staring at you.”

Brander sat back in his chair, holding his glass of whiskey on the table. He reached back into his memory library, rewinding the evening in the Vegas casino lounge not so long ago. Yes, he recalled now that he did notice Meghan sitting at the bar turned towards him in her stool.

He smiled. He knew where she was going with this.

“I did see you,” he conceded, then added, “My attentions were already focused on the other woman, I know…”

“I was there before she arrived,” Meghan said through a crooked smile.

Brander hesitated, then nodded slowly.

Meghan shrugged. “Look, Brander. I’m not upset that you didn’t make a move on me. The fact is that I was there even before you arrived, and there were other men in the lounge wearing spiffy suits, drinking high-class whiskey, looking to play the same game as you. I mean, their suits didn’t touch yours in terms of quality and style, and they didn’t wear them nearly as well as you do...”

Chuckling lightly, Brander looked down, continuing to nod. It was later revealed to him that Meghan had been hanging out at the lounge as part of a scheme to get a pair of men’s underpants for a bachelorette scavenger hunt.

Meghan continued, “I watched them pick up other women, women like the one you were looking at. They came and went like a revolving door. Nobody hit on me...”

“Their loss,” he quickly inserted. He smiled. “I do recall that there were those two young guys…”

“They thought I was a call girl.”

“Right. Sorry,” he replied, sheepishly.

“I’m not saying that I was hurt when that happened, you know. It was just an observation,” Meghan noted with a dismissive shirk of her shoulder. “I’m just stating facts.”

“Mm-hmm. And what do those facts mean?”

She paused, screwing aside her mouth and looking aside, searching and sifting through her thoughts and feelings. She had been so caught up in having fun with Brander, she was stymied when a serious discussion presented itself.

Brander filled in her silence. “Meghan, I can’t tell you how fortunate I am that you had the guts to approach me in that lounge. That you were able to grab me by the collar and get my attention, make me see a wonderful, beautiful, sexy woman who was prepared to take me on a crazy adventure through Vegas when I was trapped by my own blinders.”

Meghan’s dark eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “‘Crazy adventure’?”

“Mm-hmm.” Nodding, he added, “Followed by an unforgettable night in my hotel room.”

She looked up with a coy twist of her lips, feeling the little blush in her cheeks. Yeah, that really was some workout. Coming down a bit, she asked, “So why didn’t you make a move on me?”

It was his turn to pause. He opened his hands and shrugged. “Maybe it was how you were dressed.”

“How was I dressed?”

“Young. Looking for a party, while I was after some more intimate encounter.”

“More sophisticated?”

“I suppose.”

Doubt still in her eyes, she shook her head and said, “No, it was probably something else.”

They paused while the waiter brought them their main courses. Then Meghan continued, “I still don’t think you would have approached me even if I was in this dress.”

Brander tapped his finger on the table, watching her as she picked at her fish with a fork. “Let’s try a little experiment after dinner.”

Meghan sat up and adjusted her glasses and brushed her long hair back with a single deft motion of her hand. “An experiment?” she asked, suspiciously.

“Sure. You’re an academic,” he said, “so, let’s put theory to test.”

Brander left her hanging at that and turned his attention to his dinner. Meghan prodded him a bit, but he was resolved that they talk about other things while they finished their meals.

He remained mum as they returned to his car and drove back towards Monterey. They returned to their hotel, but instead of taking her to their room, they got off the elevator on the top floor and headed to the rooftop bar.

“Need a drink?” Meghan asked as they walked down the corridor.

“Yes,” he said, “and you need some affirmation.”

She stopped walking. “What do you mean?”

Brander turned and leaned towards her. “You, Meghan, will go have a seat at the bar by yourself, looking pretty, alone and available, and we’ll see what happens.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. I’ll find a little quiet spot on my own in a corner and enjoy a whiskey and the show.”

Meghan tilted her head away and squinted at him through the edge of her eyes. “You’re serious. You want to put me out like bait?”

“As it happens, there’s some sort of executives convention going on here this weekend and there’s probably lots of hungry, eligible candidates in the lounge this evening,” he replied. “Let’s see you land some big fish.”

The ironic thing was that he was convinced she could while she clung to her doubts.

“I think I’m supposed to be insulted,” she said, cocking her head back. She wasn’t. She was confused, and that finally gave way to intrigue. Crossing her arms, she stuck out her chin and asked, “And what if some other handsome, rich tycoon hits on me hard, and I’m tempted to follow him home for the evening?”

“Well, I’ll first revel in the satisfaction of being correct,” he said, adjusting his cuffs, “then, I’ll wallow in my drink and sorrow.”

Meghan slowly nodded as she continued to peer at him. “Okay,” she said slowly. She pointed with her chin. “You go ahead and find your little hiding place. I’m going back to the room to freshen up a bit first.”

“Thatta girl. Good luck,” Brander chuckled, hesitating as he began to walk away, “Or maybe I should say not too much luck.”

They separated with Brander entering the lounge first. He had been correct: plenty of men and women in upscale attire filled the large rooftop piano bar both inside and out, all looking to relax and mingle with peers and strangers. He found a small, empty booth in a corner where he beckoned over a waitress and placed his drink order. Then he settled in, watching the entrance for Meghan. A feeling of anticipation similar to the one he had in the dress boutique crept upon him, but he was patient, the soft sounds of the piano tempering him.

Twenty minutes later, he was duly rewarded.

Meghan stepped through the lounge door and stopped for a moment, firmly catching Brander’s attention as he watched from afar. She had brushed her hair long, wavy dark hair and swept it to the front over one shoulder. It nicely curved along her face, her cream skin now accented with some carefully applied make-up that highlighted the almond shape of her eyes, sharply trimmed brows, and her small red lips. She had slipped into a pair of sheer nylons that he was sure were being held up by her garter. Her glasses remained --he knew she despised contact lenses-- but they really worked in her favour, adding a nice refinement to her overall picture of sultry and classy.

And, of course, she looked striking in her new blue dress.

Yes, he liked it very much.

Standing at the entrance, Meghan shifted her eyes around the swanky lounge without really focusing on anyone. So many women and men mixing and mingling. It was when she started walking towards the bar did she spot Brander in his booth, but she only offered him a fleeting glance before she took a seat at the stool at the end, facing slightly away from him.

Brander tilted his head and surveyed the lounge as well as she had made her way through. He could tell she was distracted in thought, otherwise, she would have noticed that she had already turned a few other heads.

This wasn’t going to take very long.

Meghan sat on her stool, legs crossed, casually bouncing one slowly over the other for a few minutes. She teased at her hair and regarded her nails, then she nodded the bartender over.

“What may I offer you, Miss?” he asked.

Meghan grinned sharply. She wanted to say something like a Cosmopolitan but went with an Old-Fashioned with brandy. Brander had really turned her on to the smooth caramel-coloured liquor.

“Hmm, that’s an interesting order for someone like yourself.”

Meghan’s bouncing leg stopped. Her eyes remained fixed for a moment on the colourful bottles behind the bar. Putting on a leisurely smile, she turned her head and regarded a gentleman with curly brown hair and in a sharp, grey suit leaning beside her against the bar.

“Oh? And why is that?” she asked.

“It’s an old person’s drink.”

“Do I look underage?”

“Hardly,” he replied with a little shake of his head as he stole a glance starting from her legs up. She could tell he was looking at her as if he felt she should be under something… or someone.

Meghan turned a little more towards him, leaning her elbow on the rail. “I like the taste of brandy. I like how smooth it feels going down my throat.”

“Oh, I’m not going to argue with that,” he said, his eyes on her lips as she said ‘smooth’ with a prolonged ‘ooh’. “In fact, I’d like to pay for it.”

He tossed a bill onto the bar as the bartender passed her the drink.

“I already charged it to my room,” she noted.

“I know. That’s for the next one,” he remarked with a wink.

“Too late,” a tall, black man in dark pinstripes sat on the stool on the opposite side of Meghan, “You can take that back because I already told the waitress to expense all of this young lady’s drinks to my room for the rest of the evening.”

Meghan barely managed to keep her eyebrows from popping off her face. Instead, she stayed composed and slowly turned to look up at the man with the bald head and impeccable goatee and said, “Ooh. I should call my girlfriends to come and tell them the drinks are on me tonight.”

“If they look half as fine as you, then please do,” he said, holding up his glass to her.

She clinked her glass with his and looked back over her shoulder to the first man. “You going to top that?”

Back in his booth, Brander sat with a wry smirk on his face, mindlessly scratching at the side of his chin. The waitress brought him his second glass of whiskey, and he quickly took a sip. Meghan looked like she was enjoying herself, comfortably settling into the role of the Queen Vixen this evening. An unexpected offshoot of this ‘experiment’ was his own reaction to it all, a plethora of thoughts rolling through his head.

Most unexpected was how he realized there was something very alluring about seeing other men seek Meghan’s favour, understanding the desire for her each of them felt.

Then he watched a third gentleman joined the fray and suddenly a new feeling pushed into his gut. He sat up and breathed deeply, a sliver of concern tightening his brow.

Good Lord, it was a freaking piranha tank, Meghan thought to herself as she was now bordered by three suave men decked out in European suits and sprayed with rich cologne. She was just managing to switch her attention between all of them, but they didn’t seem to mind or even notice. None of them was giving any quarter to the other, either.

There was nothing overtly lurid about any of their comments --they were all as smooth and bold as the liquor they swirled in their glasses-- but there was definitely intention in their eyes. At first it was quite flattering, she had to admit to herself, and she rolled with the flirting with ease and humour. Slowly it became a little overwhelming, however, with all that high end, high octane testosterone pressing upon her. While she maintained her air of charm and playful teasing, she held a wariness in reserve. Besides, she always had Brander to fall back on.

Meanwhile, Brander had figured out what was going on. The three men were from the same group hanging out at another side of the bar. It looks like they were in competition with one another, playing who gets the girl this evening, with Meghan the chosen target. The two remaining men seemed to be doing running commentary together, chuckling with leering looks towards the ongoing game.

He heard Meghan laugh, snapping his attention back to the bar. A curious smirk joined his furrowed brow. She really did seem to be enjoying herself.

What better time to go break it up?

He stood from the table, adjusting his jacket and cuffs.

“David?” he heard a woman’s voice say off to his side. He ignored it and motioned to head to the bar.

“David,” the woman said more firmly. Brander realized she was speaking at him and turned.

A long, slim red-head in an emerald green cocktail dress stood looking at him with surprise in her bright, blinking jade eyes. After a second, he recognized her.

“Sybill,” he recalled and smiled. “What a lovely surprise to run into you here.”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m here for the convention. Are you, as well?”

“No, just… travelling,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Huh. Well, I can’t believe I just bumped into you here of all places, David.”

‘David’ was an innocuous pseudonym he used when meeting women for a single night of enjoyment. He presumed ‘Sybill’ was a nom de plume as well. He and she had hooked up one rainy evening in Seattle. Well, it rained so often there, he could be forgiven when exactly that happened.

She apparently hadn’t. “It’s been three months. You haven’t called,” she sat down as she spoke, clearly intending that he did so, too.

“I… uh… did we exchange numbers?” Brander remarked, distracted.

“I gave you mine,” she said with a slightly flat tone. She placed her purse on the other side of her lap making space for him beside her on the booth’s seat.

“Oh, yes. That’s right,” David said as he slowly sat back down, his head facing Sybill, his eyes trying to remain on the shenanigans at the bar. “I’m afraid I may have lost it.”

“Well, it’s good that we ran into each other, then,” she replied. She obviously hadn’t received the memo about their encounter in Seattle being a one night stand.

“Yes,” he replied, sighing through a crooked smile, “it’s great. Just great.”

Meanwhile, Meghan laughed again though she really hadn’t paid any attention to whatever anecdote that one of the men told, something about casting a movie... or castration… or something. She just knew that the other two had ribbed him mercilessly about it in their quest to put each other down, and so she laughed before covering up her ennui with her glass as she took a long drink. For the past several minutes, she had lost the conversation but seemed to be getting by just fine with her smile, her laugh, and a sprinkling of winking “okay’s”.

Licking the flavour of fine liquor from her lips, she glanced between the men as they continued to talk at her trying to see what Brander was up to. He was probably spying on her like a hawk, enjoying the sport he had brought upon her.

Or he was sitting alone with a gorgeous red-head who was leaning into him rather suggestively?

Frowning, she adjusted her glasses to be sure of what she was seeing. The view of the woman’s hand on his leg certainly cleared things up.

“What the fu…”

“So what do you think?” the black man with the rich, deep voice said to her.

Meghan blinked and looked up at him, plastering her smile back on. “Oh. Okay,” she said with a coy wink.

It was as if the air was suddenly let out from the other men’s dress shirts. As the man in pinstripes settled in a bit closer to her, they walked away grumbling.

“Uh,” Meghan uttered as she watched them leave, “what did I just say ‘okay’ to?”

The last man standing grinned as he took her hand and caressed it.

“Oh, fu…”

“So, Sybill,” Brander said, patting his impromptu companion’s hand as it rubbed toward his inner thigh, “if you could give me your phone number again, I’ll be sure to call you soon. We can plan to meet again… “

“Oh, certainly I’ll give you my number,” she said, leaning in closer, “after.”

“Well,” Brander said as he checked his watch, “I was actually just leaving… to go back to my hotel in Santa Cruz.”

He hated using bald-faced lies while meeting with women; they were the tools of cads. However, his concern at the moment had warranted it, he felt. Desperate times.

“I have a room here,” Sybill remarked, “even nicer than the one in Seattle. You wouldn’t have to go anywhere."

With her within close proximity and closing, he could smell the vodka on her breath and recognized that look in her mascara-swept eyes. There was insistence and there was an edge, and he had learned from before that Sybill was a bit… emotional. She was not going to be easy to shake off without possibly making a scene. It would require Brander some time to devise an exit strategy.

Fortunately, Meghan had no issues with decorum, appearing suddenly in front of them at the booth. “There you are, Brander!” she announced, pointing her hand purse at him, “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Her blunt interruption froze him for a moment, but a grin eventually edged onto his lips.

“Who is Brander?” asked Sybill, looking confused and annoyed, “And who are you?”

Meghan raised her eyes upward and shook her head. “He’s Brander. Well, actually that’s his fake name, his actual name is David.”

Brander caught her little wink at him, and he stifled a chuckle. Her attempt to muddy the waters was just so Meghan.

“Yes, I know his name is David,” Sybill remarked. Her lips fluttered slightly as her laser-trimmed brows twitched and she asked, “But who are you? And why are you calling him Brander?”

“I’m Ana,” Meghan replied, propping up her glasses. “Who are you?”

“Sybill.” The red-head turned to Brander. “David, who is this?”

Before he could reply, Meghan interjected. “Brander, why are you giving this woman your real name?”

Sybill did not like the way she said ‘this woman’.

Before Brander could reply… again… the imposing man in the pin-striped suit from the bar joined them. “Ana, shall we go?” he asked, taking her hand.

Now Brander got up to speed and stood from the booth. Buttoning his coat, he offered a hand to the man and asked, “And who might you be?”

“This is Reggie,” Meghan introduced with a cordial wave of her hand.

“Um… no. Reggie was the other guy,” the man said, “I’m Malachi.”

“Oh, sorry.” Meghan winced. “The names are so similar.”

Malachi looked suspiciously at her before turning his frown toward Brander who was still shaking his hand. “Who are you?” he asked the question of the evening.

“Brander,” Brander said.

“This is David,” Sybill inserted, standing up, her gaze still set on Meghan.

Meghan was shocked how tall she was, how tall everyone around her was, but she said, “Malachi, this is Sybill.”

At her behest, the two confused outsiders somehow ended up shaking hands although they had no idea why they were being introduced to one another.

Meghan and Brander both took a step aside so that they were standing alongside one another at the booth.

“Are you with this man?” Malachi asked.

“Of course, I am,” Meghan declared, slipping her hand through the bend of Brander’s arm, “he’s my uncle.”

The other three were struck dumb, though Brander was savvy enough to maintain an unaffected smile as he processed her remark. “I’m her uncle,” he finally repeated and threw in a few too obvious winks of misdirection toward Malachi.

Sybill stuck out her lower jaw. “This is your niece?” she remarked, her green eyes narrowed to slits.

Meghan noted that the woman referred to her as ‘this’. A step up from ‘it’, but still...

“Yes, we’re travelling together,” he said, “a treat for her birthday.”

“My 25th birthday,” Meghan asserted.

“My eldest sister’s daughter,” Brander added.

“I’m supposed to keep him out of trouble,” she said. She scolded Brander, “I can’t believe you gave out your real name again.”

Brander nodded his head, rolling his eyes sheepishly. “It’s true. I’m sorry, Ana. I was weakened by the presence of the lovely Sybill, here.”

Malachi and Sybill stared at both of them in simmering silence. He seemed to have an inkling of what was going on, however, so when Brander offered his hand again, thanking Malachi for “taking care of his niece”, there was a tiny glimmer in his eye and a telling pluck at the edge his lips.

Players respecting players.

“Time to go,” Meghan said, tugging Brander by the sleeve, “we have an early morning drive to San Francisco tomorrow, Uncle Brander.”

“Uncle David,” Brander corrected.

“Right.” As she passed around the back of Malachi, she whispered, “Sorry. Thank you for the drinks.”

The man rolled his eyes, but shook his head grinning. “Don’t mention it.”

“I’ll call you,” Brander said to Sybill as he was led away towards the exit.

She hadn’t given him her number.

As they quickly turned the corner and rushed down the hallway towards the elevator, Meghan asked, “Do you think they’ll hook up?”

“Do you care?”

“Just trying to ease the guilt.”

Brander smiled. That was Meghan.

Back in their hotel room, the two of them quickly set to smooching as they eased their way towards the bed. The evening, for all its dizzying and anxious moments, was undeniably stimulating. The sweet relief of escaping unscathed gave way to swelling passion for another.

“Is Sybill the type of woman you usually like?” Meghan purred between kisses as she unbuttoned his shirt.

“Before my eyes were opened to other possibilities, other troubles,” he conceded, applying pecks of his lips all along her neck while sweeping his hands along her bare back, slipping one down under the slit of her dress and groping her bottom. “How did it feel to be wanted by so many men like that?”

“Mmm, I liked it,” she said as she stepped back, easing her straps from her shoulders. One of the benefits of the fine material was how easily it slipped down, slipping from her bare breasts to her waist as if her creamy skin was covered in butter.

“Yeah?” he said, watching her push the pretty dress over her waist and letting it fall to her feet. She stepped out of it, still in her heels, thin-strap panties, nylons and garter.

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded looking at him with wicked eyes, reaching her hands around his neck as she moved her nude body against him, “Especially since I knew it was making you squirm.”

“Naughty Ana,” Brander said with a sneering grin and gave her butt a firm smack.

Meghan jumped and her eyes widened. Seeing the sudden surprise on her face, Brander also froze.

She blinked at him. “Did you just spank me?”

“I… believe I did,” he replied, still feeling the tingle in his palm. It was quite enticing.

She chewed her lower lip for a second then said, “Do it again.”

Brander hesitated.

“Or should I go back up to the bar and find Malachi...” she said, “Uncle David?”

His jaw firming, drawing his lips to a line, Brander gave her firm bottom another stiff swat.

Meghan flinched, her eyes closing as she inhaled sharply, pulling her lips inside her mouth. The sting from his palm coursed up her back to her neck.

Brander dragged his teeth side-to-side, gazing down at Meghan over his nose as he held his hand steady against her, fingers spread out over her lovely cheek, slowly digging in.

It was a stern, harsh look that she hadn’t witnessed before from him. Feeling her chest rise and fall with quickening breaths, she realized how attractive she found it to be. It made her nervous. She wanted more of it.

She stepped back towards the bed, leading Brander by the hands. She turned him and sat him down facing her. Parting his knees, she moved up to the edge of the bed, standing over him.

Brander sat still save for a subtle shift in his jaw and his eyes moving steadily upward, soaking in every inch of Meghan’s nubile body before focusing on her face. He frowned. Meghan had already proven to be unpredictable --a trait he found appealing-- but there was something else in her eyes tonight. As she removed her glasses, tossing them aside, it was even more apparent.

With her eyes locked upon him and with a muted countenance upon her face, Meghan brought her wrists forward together, held them out to him and waited.

Again, Brander only’s motion was his eyes which dropped to her hands holding steady before him. After a moment, he looked back up at her with similar resolve as he unbuckled and pulled out his belt.

For a moment, Meghan wondered --somewhat with cautious excitement-- if he intended to use the belt in another fashion, instead he twisted the fine leather around her wrists, expertly cinching them together just tight enough so she couldn’t separate them but still able to feel the sensation in her fingertips.

As she slowly leaned down to kiss him, Meghan searched for one of her usually smart remarks to break the tension, but remained silent and serious. Sometimes tension felt good.

They moved their mouths together in a slow, smouldering kiss, lips moving almost in slow motion as they circled and pressed and moulded against one another, hot and wet. Megan’s soft brunette hair fell across their faces. With her hands bound, she could only caress her fingers against the stubble on the sides of his chin, but Brander wasn’t under the same restrictions. His large, warm hands drew around her body, one sliding up her back, the other around her plush bottom.

Still locking her lips and tongue with his, Meghan breathed faster through her nose as she felt him rub his hand demandingly around her exposed cheeks. When she felt his hand peel away, she didn’t have more than a second to prepare as it swiftly came down on her butt with a crisp smack.

“Mmn!” she moaned sharply into Brander’s mouth. She gasped, swallowed, steadied herself as he quickly reared his palm back again and brought it down with another sharp crack on the same cheek. “Uh-uhn!”

Brander cinched her in tight, a hard edge along his brow, a sneer curling his lips as he sucked upon her breasts, teething at her taut, dark nipples. He coiled his palm back once more, and struck it down against her smooth cheek with a harsh slap.

“Nng!” Meghan clutched arms around his head, rubbing her cheek and chin against his hair. Her teeth chattered as she breathed and gasped, clamping together as yet another open hand smacked her, sending rippling tingles all throughout her body and up her throat with an aching groan.

Brander circled her butt, massaging it forcefully with a hand groping at each luscious cheek. He alternated between them, gripping one, slapping the other. Meghan’s sharp, breathless cries sang in his ears like the call of a siren, teasing out his most carnal thoughts. A lusty breath growled from his chest as he turned Meghan aside.

Meghan took a moment to savour the sting upon her poor butt as she watched him sit further on the bed, leaving her space to lie down across his lap.

“Come on,” he said with a firm, placid voice.

Her hair hanging provocatively dishevelled, darkening her eyes and face, Meghan stood still for a moment, pouting her red lips, before Brander beckoned her again. She slid down onto the bed, draping her body over his slacks, knees and elbows bent against the soft sheets, hands and feet up, her butt centred along his belly.

Brander regarded the round, smooth cheeks presented on his lap. Deep patches of red and pink appeared in full bloom along her flesh, evidence of the crispness of his slaps. He massaged them with tender circles of his finger at first before drawing his hand up a few inches, then lowering it with a snap of his wrist. Meghan flinched upon his lap, and he heard her exhale sharply through her nose.

His hand raised again, a couple of inches higher. It came down once more, spanking her hard enough that her butt cheek rippled provocatively for an instant. His teeth gritting together and exposed as he breathed through a grim sneer, he raised and lowered his hand with sharp smacks at a slow yet steady pace, accounting for each one in his head.

He thought of the men who had desired Meghan in the bar that evening.

Smack.

He thought of how he felt at the suggestion of her spending the evening with Malachi.

Smack.

He thought of how much seemed to be enjoying herself, playing with men like that.

Smack.

Playing with him like that.

Smack.

He thought --reaching further back-- of how they met, this beguiling young woman casting her spell on him, dragging him around, hooking him deep.

Smack!

“Uh-huhn!” Meghan was openly groaning now, exhaling with aching sighs, inhaling with sharp whistling gasps for air, just barely able to absorb and file away the sting of one stiff swat before another struck her butt.

Brander’s hands were so confident, so assured, symbolic of the man himself. She craned her neck back and up, suddenly eager to see what he looked like as he punished her with his swift slaps, but another harsh blow rattled her, warning her off, and she turned back again gasping, bracing for the next one.

Shifting upon his lap, feeling his hard cock beneath his slacks on her exposed belly, she gnawed upon Brander’s belt, her fingers laced together almost as if in prayer. Each time he smacked her, her eyes squeezed tighter, eventually pinching out short tears that ran from the edges. She knew he would stop immediately if she just told him to, and yet she bit down her lip, stifling that plea.

Smack!

His lips had drawn to a tight line a minute ago, a stern gaze set in his eyes. Everything on him felt tight, uncomfortable. He wanted to tear off his suit right here, right now, it was so hot and restrictive. He felt the pressure in his crotch, his cock pressing painfully against his slacks and underwear. He needed to shift it, but Meghan’s crotch pressing against his legs prevented him from doing so.

He raised his hand once more, motioning to bring it down when he heard Meghan sniffle and whimper. He blinked, and suddenly a breath of air released from his lungs with an audible gasp. Breathing hard, he looked down towards her head still facing away from him.

“Meghan,” he breathed, wetting his lips, “are you okay?”

Meghan held her eyes closed, losing herself wantonly in the soothing darkness as she held her lips in tight, steadying her quivering breaths. Her butt felt numb from the soreness but she could feel it glowing, warm, red. She clutched her hands together so tight that they shook. Listing her head back, she suddenly gasped, shuddering as both air escaped her mouth and a delectable wetness poured from her below. “Uh-Uhnn!”

Brander brushed her long hair softly with his fingers as she trembled over him, patiently allowing her time to flow in full release. “Shh,” he hushed as she continued to sigh and moan.

Eventually, as her breathing settled, he turned her over on his lap. Positioning her on her hip, ensuring her tender butt was spared any more pain, he cradled her back and legs as he looked at her. He gently brushed aside strands of damp hair revealing her face. It was just a couple of shades lighter than the crimson red streaks and patches on her butt, glistening with perspiration. A single tear trail was quickly drying up.

“My dear, Meghan,” Brander soothed.

So formal. So Brander. A momentary smile pulled on her lips before they kissed.

Still lying across his lap, she watched in silence as he undid the belt with one hand as he held her with the other. As soon as the leather was pulled from her wrists, she reached around Brander’s neck and pulled him down for a long, sultry kiss.

Moments later, Meghan was lying back on the bed, a couple of soft pillows cushioning and cooling her bottom while also lifting her hips to meet Brander’s waiting, hungry mouth. So desperate to please her, he barely lifted his lips and tongue from her even for a moment as he worked to finally strip off his clothes, tossing his expensive suit in a crumpled heap to the floor.

He settled in on the bed, burying his face between her soft thighs, drawing his tongue up and down her damp slit. Meghan sighed and hummed, sensual sounds replacing sharp gasps and cries. She sucked on her bottom lip, clenching the edges of the pillow in her fists as Brander took his time to savour her.

A few minutes later, she breathed an aching sigh, “God, I want you in my mouth”, and he was just as eager to oblige.

Lying on his back, Meghan eased her hips down upon his face as she lowered her mouth over his stiff shaft. In unison, they took their deliberate pleasure of one another. No rush, no hurry, they methodically used their lips, their tongues, their teeth to draw sultry gasps and moans for more from deep within their being.

Meghan raised her head, sucking back a silvery string of saliva back through her teeth before sinking her lips over his shaft once more. All the while, she gyrated her hips, mashing her crotch against Brander’s face, feeling the coarse stubble on his chin and cheeks brush against her tender flesh. She felt his tongue dip and drag between her petals, steady licks of desire, his warm breath upon her, tickling her, sending quivers up her spine.

They ended their evening in a sultry embrace, she on the top pressed against his long hard body as she bucked and rolled over him, grinding upon him with long circular sweeps of her hips. His cock stirred her within, throbbing and pulsing provocatively. Their fingers locked together as they kissed, knuckles white as they clenched, they came together, forceful and wet, both of them shuddering, their passionate fluids mixing and mingling. Both of them gasped the other’s name. With each heaving breath, Meghan lowered her head towards brander, finally dropping it down, smearing her dry lips against his neck and shoulders as she clutched him tight.

Brander spread his fingers across her back, feeling the warmth and sweat upon her flesh, and held her securely, confidently, never wanting to let her go.

They remained in bed, Meghan curled against him, tracing a finger through the hairs on his chest.

“You know,” she mused, “you were just as bad I was tonight, back in the lounge.”

Brander, looked towards the ceiling and nodded, conceding with a grin, “I suppose.”

“So why am I the only one with a sore hiney?”

He narrowed his eyes as he regarded her. “You want me to bend over?”

“No,” she replied with a sly smile. “I have another idea for your punishment.”

-0-

A day later...

Meghan looked out the window of the hotel room toward the bright sunny beach in Santa Cruz where they had stopped on their way to San Francisco. She couldn’t wait to get into the ocean.

She turned back and called out, “Brander! How long does it take to put on a pair of swim trunks?”

From behind the closed bathroom door, he said, “They’re on. I’m just not certain I want to come out.”

“Don’t make me come in there!” she threatened playfully.

Brander stepped out in a pair of very small, very tight, light blue speedos. “So,” he said eying her, “where’s the rest of the suit?”

Meghan folded her arms as she checked him approvingly. “I’ll have you know, I chose this myself at one of the most exclusive boutiques in city.”

Really, it was off the rack at a generic department store.

“I shouldn’t have let you buy this for me,” he said, pulling at the modest bit of material. “I mean, I really shouldn’t have.”

“I love you in a suit, Brander,” Meghan said, “but you weren’t going to wear one to the beach.”

“I guess this is what you call being ‘Meghaned’,” he chuckled. He shifted the suit awkwardly with his fingers. “It’s just, well, a bit revealing.”

“You mean like this?” Meghan undid the sash of her robe and let it fall to the floor, exposing the royal blue string bikini underneath. It actually had less material than Brander’s trunks.

His eyebrows peaked as he blinked, taking her all in. “Meghan,” he said through a slanted grin, “I’m not quite sure if I’ll be able to go out at all after seeing you in that.”

“Why?” she asked, her brow spiked over her glasses. She lowered her sights down to his crotch. “Oh.”

Holding back a giggle, she sighed and walked over to him. Moving close, she cupped her hand against his crotch, covering the bulge that was just about to snap his speedos off.

“You take off yours, and I’ll take off mine,” she remarked. “Then I’ll show you what being ‘Meghaned’ means.”

They skipped the beach that afternoon.