Weekend Away (Part 1) free porn video

Chapter One Tonight a man is taking me out, a real man, tall, broad, muscular and just what I need to give me that combination of feeling vulnerable and feeling safe that really sends me. At least, that's what I'm hoping, see, I haven't really met him yet, not properly. We're meeting later, at a party at the flat of a friend of his. He, Scott, that's his name, did offer to pick me up at my hotel but I told him that I would meet him there. Independent girl I am, on my own in a foreign country, a new city, if I can take a flight alone I can take a cab and find an address. And, if I change my mind I can leave independently too... At least we speak the same language, well nearly... Our "date" - his word, he's American, is due to begin at 8pm, he tells me he'll be there early, to prepare the way for me and so I won't have to be alone in a stranger's "apartment'. Now it's 5pm and I need to begin to get ready. I run a bath and lounge on the bed in my peach-satin robe, flicking through 50million TV channels while I wait. I scent the bath with jasmine oil and light a few candles before settling in for a long soak. I went for a full body wax before I left the UK so I don't need to shave my legs, but I do trim my bikini line a little, you never know how things are going to go. I am two-thirds of the way through The Time-Traveller's Wife so two or three chapters should ensure my skin is as soft as I want it to be before I get dressed. I've shaken off the jet-lag, and the conference I'm meant to be here to attend isn't until after the holidays (I extended the stay so I could see a little life, not just power-points and figures) so I have the next three days to myself, footloose and fancy-free. I had been talking to Scott online for a while and when I told him I would be in the US and in Colorado and he promised he would show me around if I wanted him to. I wanted him to. I wasn't sure what else I wanted but I was willing to find out. So, time to get ready. What to wear? I know a little about what Scott likes and, since he was being so kind to me I figured there was no harm in giving him a little treat. I laid out my underwear, skirt and blouse on the bed before giving it and myself a liberal dose of Valentina, I love the freshness of this perfume, but it isn't too innocent as some lighter scents can be. As always when getting dressed I start with my corset, the shorter underbust one in black satin with the attached suspenders (Scott would call them garters I suppose). I draw my waist in and get a little thrill when I realise I can get myself down to twenty-six inches now. Cutting out white-bread has really done the job on my little belly. Next, it's my favourite bit, as many times as I've done it I always have to catch my breath a little as I pull on my stockings. It's as I sheath my legs in the sleek black nylon that I begin to feel like myself, like Leanne, like a truly feminine and sexual creature, despite what I might have been born as. As a little treat for Scott I choose Johnathan Aston Vintage Legs, in midnight-noir, full-fashioned heel and back-seam. A bit over the top for a house party, but I suddenly feel like I want to make an impression. Knickers next, I pull the black lace thong up tight and feel the ribbon slip between my buttocks and I trap and tuck myself in front. The matching bra is close-fitting and pushes my breasts up and a little together, not too much though, I want to stay a little demure, ladylike and soft. I have the reputation of my nation to uphold in this wild corner of the US. As much as I know of Colorado up to now is Mork and Mindy and skiing. I want to learn a lot more. The slit of my burnt-umber pencil skirt finishes just below the welt on my stocking. I tighten my suspenders, but I'll still have to be careful not to flash anything. Crisp white blouse, five-inch peeptoe courts, a light wrap and my cashmere winter coat and I'm ready for the cab, just. Make-up is a place I like to get lost in and I get a slightly tetchy third call from reception "Miss Ashley, your driver is waiting..." I dash down and draw my legs into the back seat. Catching the driver watching me in the rear-view mirror I smile a little and hand him the card Scott had left at the hotel reception for me. I don't really have time for any second thoughts, the place is almost no distance and before I know it, there I am. A smartly uniformed waiter takes my coat and gives me a glass of champagne and an appreciative look and tells me I am expected. "Miss Ashley, Scott is over by the picture-window." I look around me for the first time. It's an exquisite apartment and the decor is tasteful and looks expensive. God, I'm miles out of my league. I look around some more and the place is swarming with tall, tanned, willowy model-looking women and buff looking men. With all this to choose from, why would Scott be interested in one 5'4" English girl with a fat arse? Too late, the waiter thinks I need assistance, he takes my elbow and points me across the room at a broad back in dark-blue. I nervously click across the wooden floor in my Karen Millen heels, hoping that I won't attract too much attention. Scott, it must be him, hears my heels and turns round and smiles so broadly that I forget all my fears. He stands up and - wow, he's tall - leans down and kisses me on the cheek. He smells clean and fresh, but he smells like a man and my knees go a little wobbly. Thinking I must be tired Scott slips a firm arm around my waist. So strong, I couldn't stop this man doing anything he wants to with me. Not sure I want to stop him... We spend a lovely evening, talking, laughing and, I surprise myself, it doesn't usually happen this easily, kissing. Snogging, real snogging like teenagers. Something comes over me, I drag him off to the coat-room like at some teenage party... somethings are better left undescribed... Then, at the end of the night, after as far as I can see I've pretty much given him the go ahead for pretty much anything and all he has to do is seize the opportunity... he's going to let me go back to the hotel on my own. I thought American men were meant to be no-nonsense know-what-they- want types and here's my Colorado outdoorsman being a bloody gentlemen. I've got to do something! More teenage ideas fill my head. I let him watch me leave. His eyes never leave my legs, I knew he'd go for the seams. I count slowly in my head - 1-2-3-4-5 - he goes to his pocket. The keys aren't there. I know where they are. He looks up at me waiting and I jingle his keys at him. He never even noticed. That's some sort of compliment I suppose. The old car-key trick - almost never works - somehow it did this time. He gives me a smile like a little embarrassed boy and I point to the cloakroom. "Hurry up" I mouth, tapping my watch. I hope he won't need anymore big hints. But, I don't want to rush this either.... Chapter Two As Scott spots me outside it looks like he's coming straight out to catch me up so I scamper off (as fast as five-inch-heels allow) round the side of the building and in through the side door. Then I creep (again, marble floors and stilettos don't exactly aid stealth) in amongst the coats hanging in the lobby. They are long, but they don't reach the floor and I can't hide for long. He makes a show of leaving, playing the game, then he sweeps the coats aside and kisses me again and again I go a bit wobbly in the legs. I know he won't drop me so I play the damsel a bit and swoon against him, I catch another whiff of man under his aftershave, goooo- ooood that's a smell I love! Don't get me wrong, I don't want a man to smell, but I like him to smell like a man, like strength and warmth and size and power and Scott has that smell. I'm going to have to be careful, or he'll get the wrong idea and I won't stop him... So, we part lips and he says he knows a place we can go to talk and have a glass of wine and maybe a dance and I say, "It's your town, show me around. There's still time for a good time..." As we head out to Scott's car the breeze gets up and the snow starts to fall and I take the opportunity to snuggle in for some heat. That powerful arm goes around me, around my shoulders this time and I relish the safety I feel. It's only a short walk so my toes don't really have time to get cold. Then I'm sliding into a car for the second time that night with a man I hardly know... Still, at least this time the ride is free. Now, I don't know the city but I know cities and I'm fairly sure there aren't going to be any restaurants or clubs in this posh residential area. I'm pretty sure the neighbourhood watch wouldn't stand for it. So, I look across at Scott and he just looks at the road. I'm kind of expecting him to tell me he's run out of petrol and we'll have to stop here for a while... That'd keep that teenage vibe we've had so far but I can't get him to look at me. Finally I poke him in the arm with a pointy nail (noticing the nice contrast of red nail and blue suit as I do) and when he glances across looking all innocent I give him a smile that I hope says "I know what you're up to Buster" and "I don't mind... really" all at once. I flip down the sunvisor and check my face in the make-up mirror on the back of it. God, he's made a right mess of my lips. I look like I've been eating raspberries! I poke Scott again and point at my face. "You, look what you've done!" He shrugs like he's fourteen years old and smiles, he's not one bit sorry. I smile back and take out lipstick and liner. If we're out for the night I'm going to look the way I like to look, immaculate. Even if we're not out out... I just get my face finished as Scott swings into the garage of a very posh looking house - I pretend to be surprised - so, he's borrowed the place, right? Turns out not, he has a key and everything, in we go and I ask if I have to take off my shoes. "Don't you dare... at least not yet" says Scott. "I'm only thinking of your floors" "I'm not thinking about the floors... " And with that hanging in the air he takes me gently by the hand and leads me, click-click-clicking into an absolutely enormous kitchen! Soon, supplied with wine and a CD Scott has grabbed from somewhere, we go through to an even larger lounge. You could fit my entire flat in here. Scott puts the CD in the player and brings the remote across to the sofa where he sits down. He hold out an arm and I join him, I sit close, a bit too close? Scott doesn't seem to mind. Before he can start the music I lean into him and we kiss for a long time. Not snogging this time, it's slow and soft and while I melt Scott is firm and just a little bit forceful. Just as I like it. I'm the girl and he's the man and I want to feel like that's where things should be. Scott starts kissing my neck and shoulders, I shiver and I know he feels it. He runs a finger up the back of my leg, tracing the seam of my stocking. I love it when men touch my legs, absolutely love it, I'm getting far to close to getting carried away. Almost without knowing it I've slipped off the heel I've been dangling and I rub my nyloned foot on his leg, up under the trouser-hem. The coarse hair of Scott's leg tickles even through my stocking... "Are your feet sore?" "Hmm?" I'm not really listening, lost in the moment. "Would you like a foot massage?" "Oooh, go on then..." I slip off my other shoe and drop my sleek, black-sheathed feet into Scott's lap. I'm glad I paid extra for the pedi, I'm glad I redid my toes before I came out. Looks like Scott is glad too. Certainly feels that way as somthing shifts under the sole of my foot. Not wanting to embarrass Scott I shift my feet slightly, but our eyes meet and the idea is planted... Not yet I think. Go slowly, savour it, make him wait, draw it out, make it all the more exquisite... Seems Scott has the same idea, which is good. He starts to rub my feet and legs. I am in utter ecstasy, I love this. It feelssss sssoooo gooood.... I lie back and close my eyes. I am careful to keep my knees together and luckily my skirt is long and tight enough to make sure there is no premature flashing. We chat, I ask Scott if he has ever taken a course in reflexology because he is certainly doing something magical to my feet. Shivers and trembles run up and down my body and I feel so warm and relaxed... it's like I'm floating. Somehow, without me noticing, in the last few minutes Scott has managed to start the CD. And they say men can't multi-task! As I drift in the sensuality of Scott's hands on my legs I finally notice the music he has put on... Now, a lot of girls when asked what music they like say something along the lines of "Oooh I don't mind, you choose, I like a bit of everything really..." Not me. I'm the kind of girl with strong opinions on music and from the moment I saw Scott pick up that CD I've been wondering... What he plays could make or break the evening... Then I forgot to worry about it because there were better things to think about. Now, laying back, I notice - JAZZ, ahhhhhh JAZZ! I hate jazz!!! I could handle some Billie Holliday perhaps but JAZZZZZZZZ!!! Joni Mitchell I would have gone for, or Serge Gainsbourg, perhaps Jeff Buckley or Roxy Music. My favourite music isn't really romantic, I wouldn't expect The Stones or anything... but jazz.... ... but I shan't say anything, I'm a well-brought-up and well-mannered girl and I'm in another person's house and I shan't be rude and at least there's an excuse to see Scott again as I can say he has to let me choose the music next time and maybe the company has made me warm to the bloody jazz because, as I feel my feet lowered to the leather sofa and, as I look up, I see a rather flushed looking Scott asking me if I'd like to dance... And, for some inexplicable reason, I hear myself say that I'd love to. I'd love to dance to jazz. Something is very wrong. Or very right. I figure I'd better put my shoes back on or I'll be dancing with my head against Scott's solar-plexus. Even in my spikes I only just manage to get my head on his shoulder, but I manage it and somehow the rhythm that Scott feels in the music comes through to me and I find myself not only dancing to jazz, but loving it. Of course it doesn't hurt that Scott's skillful fingers are teasing and tickling at my neck, my back, my waist. Tracing the outline of my bra strap, catching the side of my throat softly, I turn my face up to his, eyes closed, knees weak and we kiss again..... Oooh, hang on. That's the zip on my skirt. I don't blame him, I've not exactly been backward in coming forward but it might be a teensy bit early for that. While I'm thinking this strong fingers slip down as far as where my knickers disappear between... I think I must have tensed a little, because at that moment Scott withdraws his hand and closes the zip and I open my eyes to find him looking into my face. He's worried he's overdone it, and that makes him all the more attractive, that gentleness and concern overriding his inner animal. The track ends and saves us from a slightly difficult moment. I don't want to stop, but I'm going to, I want to enjoy it at the right pace. I have three days and I don't want to waste them... "Oooh I'm feeling that wine a little... Can you call me a cab?" I watch Scott's face carefully and he hides his disappointment well. Another plus sign. "I'll drive you back," he says. "Not with the best part of a bottle of Pinot in you you won't" I say with a mock-stern wag of my red-tipped finger. Anyway you need a good night's sleep. I see Scott's brain saying "Oh Yeah, fat chance of that, state you've got me in..." And I wonder if I'm a vain cow for thinking that. Scott doesn't say what he's thinking though, he asks why. "We'll, you promised to show me around, and I've got three days to fill and I'm going to need a new dress aren't I?" "For what?" "For when we go on our second date, tomorrow, all day, shopping if you can bear it, I'll let you choose what I wrap myself up in so that when you take me out for dinner, dancing, cocktails and... so on... you can be proud of me, this short-arse limey on your arm." Scott looks at me for a moment. He's going to suggest something else, I take the moment to slip out to where he left my coat in the hall and as I come back into the room he tells me that my cab will be ten minutes, and he has an account with the company and I'm not to even suggest for a moment that I pay anything. I agree, as long as he lets me pay for lunch tomorrow. Waiting for cabs is never easy. I ask Scott to tell me about jazz and to suggest something for me to wear tomorrow. I want to go shopping but it will be chilly and so I ask where he is taking me and what sort of things the women there wear. "Pants mostly..." Scott trails off. "No chance of that," I say. "I don't own a single pair of trousers, not even jeans or tracky bs." "Tracky Bs?" he asks as his smile from earlier returns. "Strictly nylons on my legs and my legs on show. Any preferred colour for tomorrow?" Scott looks a little unsure. I tell him to text me later with his suggestions. The cab arrives, one more kiss, almost formal, then I give him a last taste of my tongue before slipping out into the cold night, feeling very warm inside and looking forward to be collected from my hotel at 10.30am tomorrow. As the cab drives off I look back and see Scott watching me go from the enormous window of his lounge. He looks wonderful, strong and powerful and I get another tingle all over when I think about what we might get up to over the next few days.... and I'm waiting for that text, so I can start planning my outfit. The cab ride seems to take no time as I have plenty to think about: What am I doing? This is all taking a very odd turn. It's an exciting turn but I hardly know this guy, I'm about 5000 miles from home and I don't really know what might happen. I try to think rationally, which is hard when you're as excited as I am, but I'm usually a sensible girl and I need to weigh things up. Slowly and carefully. It takes about five seconds. It goes like this. I'm on holiday, I have no ties, I have time to spare and... the man is gorgeous. He's tall, strong, charming, buff... he really floats my boat. Appalling taste in music apart he's pretty much perfect and I can work on the music. I have a little plan for what we might do tonight after lunch and shops and once I get my wi-fi access sorted out and I can get internet access I'll be able to put it into action... Anyway, I get back to my hotel room and kick off my shoes. However good a foot-rub might be it's always still a wonderful feeling to kick off your heels and spread your toes inside your stockings. I suppose I should strip and shower and make myself all fresh for bed, but I still have a whiff of Scott in my nose and I don't want to purge it yet. I remove my make-up of course, cleanse, tone and moisturise, strip off my skirt, blouse and corset and put them away. I decide to sleep in my knickers and stockings and I drift off feeling my silked legs sliding over the starched cotton sheets. My dreams are full of muscled arms and firm pectorals and charming smiles that make me want to do whatever he says. He must go to the gym, with a body that hard he must. I picture him in trackies (I imagine he'd call them "sweat-pants') and glistening with perspiration and giving off that sharp odour of working muscle... So, I laze about a bit in the morning. Scott is due at 10.30am and I don't wake up until 9am and so I am a bit rushed I suppose. I forego my usual bath and take a shower. I don't need to shave anything and I can't trim anymore from my bikini-line, there's almost nothing left so getting clean doesn't take as long as it might have done. I check my "phone and there is no text. I was expecting at least "Hey babe, wear nude stockings and a miniskirt" but nothing. Maybe I offended him leaving so abruptly last night. Ah, damn. I thought he'd be OK, what the bloody hell am I going to do with the day if he stands me up? Well, I'd better get ready anyway, so I slip on my peach robe and set about applying a day make-up. A little softer on the eyes, blended browns and highlighter, but I still go for a definite line, big black lashes and a strong lip-colour, not as deep as last night but still on the plum side of red. And there I am, that's what Leanne looks like. I pull the scrunchie from my hair and brush it out over my shoulders. I just dry it straight and put it up in a loose bun, I plan (if Scott hasn't decided I'm a dead-loss) to try on a good few different night-out looks later and I want to be able to have versatile hair to make sure I get the full effect (on Scott and to help me choose). A spritz of spray to hold it and that's done. Now, I need to know what to put on. And I needn't have worried. Almost on cue the "phone goes and it's Scott. I do wind him up a bit for making me worry and I can't help but giggle when I hear the panic in his voice. I tell him I'm nearly ready but just not dressed yet... hah... I hear him draw breath and I feel fine. He tells me the plans, galleries, sight-seeing, lunch. All sounds great but if my plan is going to work I need to get him to a shopping mall. I'm sure I can sort it out. After some chat about the weather I ask him what he wants me wrapped in. He surprises me a bit by asking for some posh brand of hosiery I've never even heard of, me, nylon-girl. I thought I knew them all. But, he wants taupe, nude something in that range. Says he'll take me shopping if I need to go, bingo! Sorted. For the moment I tell him I'll have to check, I know what I've got but I do love making him wait... I go back to the "phone. I tell him no problem. I tell him I'll see him in, glance at the clock, forty-five minutes. Time to get ready now. Now, Scott said something about walking around the city and, lovely as they look and sexy as they make me feel, if I walk around in heels all day I'll end up with sore feet and then I won't be able to dance later and dancing later is fairly central to my plan so, I'll have to sacrifice a little of my allure (I know he's a heel man) to comfort for the daytime. So... I start with a new matching bra and knickers, in a soft shade of red, not pink quite but very soft and girly. Last night I was a bit of a seductress in pencil-skirt and seams, today I'm pliable girly from the inside to the very outside. So, full-briefs rather than a thong (they still have a sheer rear-panel) and a simple, comfortable bra. Over my freshly moisturised legs I pull a pair of my favourite Johnathan Aston tights, they are very sheer, almost invisible in a soft nude colour but they do have a seam, in the same colour, and a full-fashioned heel. A little concession to overt sexiness but subtle... I am going to wear flats so I need something to keep Scott's eyes on me. Right, we're going to galleries, so I decide to go a little boho with my hooped mini-dress and sequined beret. It's a look I know Scott has seen a photo of and I hope it won't be too "kooky" for his tastes. Usually I wear this dress with my Louis Quinze boots and a leather jacket but, as I don't know if we're going to uptown classical galleries or downtown funky galleries I go half way with neat, pretty bow-toed ballet pumps and a blazer with a neatly nipped waist and satin lapels. I've not corsetted myself as eating and corsets don't make happy associates, but I do put on a comfortable shaping girdle just to keep things sleek, smooth and under control. So, I'm ready with 15 minutes to spare and there is a tap on my door and a fairly cute bell-hop tells me that my wi-fi access is up. I tip him and watch him look me up and down, not bad, tall, but not broad enough for my tastes. A bit zitty too, poor love. Anyway, surprisingly enough, it only takes me a few minutes online to find the kind of place I'm going to make Scott decide to take me to later. Wonderful. Stage one of my plan can go ahead. A call from reception. "Miss Ashley, a... Scott to see you." The receptionist sounds uncomfortable saying someone's first name but I don't mind. I quite like the mystery. I tell the receptionist I'll be right down. A quick check in the mirror and down I go. God, I hope he'll go for this look, I probably look about five years younger than I did last night... Scott will have to tell you himself exactly what he thought of my 60s Chick thing. He certainly didn't show any signs of disapproval as he took my hand and leant down (quite a long way) to kiss me, first on the cheek, then, after a charming pause, on the mouth. Everytime he kisses me I go weak in the knees, what I always thought was a dreadful cliche seems to be very very true. We head out to the car and down to a pretty upscale gallery. Some good stuff, some a little soul-less. We talk about art, we'll I do, Scott listens, something he does very well and something that makes him a hit with a girl like me who doesn't know when to shut up. Whether he agrees or not he listens. So, I drop the question. "Scott, before we eat, can you get me to some shops, I want to pick up a few things before tonight." Scott is delighted to oblige and, once we've signed the gallery visitors book we head off in his car again. The mall he chooses looks pretty classy and I'm afraid I won't find the kind of thing I'm looking for but in we go and there is plenty to look at. I buy some of these Cecilia de Rafael nylons (tights, stockings and some pretty special suspender- tights) in a groovy independent lingerie shop and I get a basque and matching thong too. Once I've chosen the design I ask Scott to choose the colour. His face tells me he wants "flushed pink" but he points to the ivory and then to the black. I get both, he offers to pay, I demur, he insists. Ok then. God, I love this effect I'm having. I figure that now is as good a time as any to try the preplan part of the plan. "Scott, is there any sort of 'rock'n'roll' sort of shop that there might be in here?" Scott mentions a place called "Hot Topic" but says that it might be a bit young, a bit gothy and weird for me. I give him a mock-hurt look and tell him that I am young, and that I might be a bit gothy and weird. For the first time I'm not sure how he takes something I've said. I smile and grab his hand. "Trust me..." I say. "I have a plan..." The shop is a lot like some of the stalls on Camden Market, loud music, leather trousers, that kind of thing. And, it is a bit young, I grew out of most of this stuff when I was in my twenties. Still, I've not come in here just for me. I drag Scott by the hand through to the men's racks at the back. I stand on tiptoe and kiss him again. "Come on honey, I just want to try something on you." I take down a black-leather blazer, cut like a 50's thing, like something out of a James Dean film. As I hold it up to Scott a young sales assistant in a leather mini and black tights comes over. "Can I help you two at all?" "Yeah," I say. "Do you think he can pull this off?" "He's gonna need the extra-large," she says. "With shoulders like that." I help Scott out of his charcoal blazer and drape it over my arm while the assistant gets the right leather and hold it out for him. He slips it on heads over towards a mirror. I follow and slip my arms around his waist from the side. "What do you think?" He's not convinced. I need some help. I look over at the assistant and as she comes over I run my hands across Scott's shoulders, relishing their breadth and power. "Wow," says the assistant. "Does he ever look good in that!" "Doesn't he!" I say. Scott is defeated. "It's all part of my plan, I'll make it worth your time, and the..." I check the ticket "... two-hundred dollars!" Scott smiles and reaches for his smart suit jacket. He pulls out his wallet. "Do you want me to keep it on?" "No, bag it and save it. Now I just need to get dress to match and you can take me to lunch." I've already seen the dress I want, so I grab it and as Scott pays I toss a tight white tee-shirt with a v-neck onto the pile too. "Trust me, you'll love what I have planned." "I trust you," he says, "I suppose I'd better if I'm spending $200 dollars to indulge some mad rock-chick whim of yours." But he smiles so broadly as he says it I'm sure he doesn't really mind. I take his hand, stretch up to kiss his mouth, wink at the shop assistant and let him lead me to the car. I don't know what is happening to me, this guy is really bringing out my inner-minx! Then we're off to a truly wonderful restaurant with an astonishing view where I'm glad I dressed up a little classy. Over dinner I say, "Scott, you know that 'club' you took me to last night..." "Uh-huh," he smiles... "Well, I loved the company, I loved the wine, I loved the decor and the foot-massage and the dancing. I loved the... interactions... all of them..." Scott relaxes, like something he's been worrying about all day is finally off his mind. "... but I'm really fussy about music. Can I make a suggestion?" I see a light go on behind his eyes. I think he might have figured out at least a little of what I'm planning. I have to go carefully now, I don't want to blow things at this delicate stage. My plan proceeds but... I wonder what Scott thinks is really happening. What is this strange English girl up too? I will definitely make it worth his while in the end, but I hope in the meantime I haven't scared him off.... Scott calls me back and reminds me that I was going to make a suggestion. So, I do... "Scotty..." I wheedle a little, a bit little-girl-who-wants-her-own-way, I don't even know if he likes being called Scotty, he might hate it. I watch his face as I continue. I hand him one of the shopping bags. "Will you wear this for me tonight?" He wavers a little and I gesture to him to look in the bag. Although he already knows, he plays along. He looks in and smiles, of course it's the rock-styled leather jacket and close-fitting white tee-shirt I made him buy in Hot Topic. "Just this?" Scott smiles. "Things might get a little revealing if you know what I mean..." I do know what he means and I really wouldn't mind one little bit but for the moment, I want to wait, however hot and flushed and ready and willing I might be feeling. "With some tight, blue jeans and work-boots, if you have them? Cowboy boots?" I watch his face, I know he likes the smart and polished look but I reckon I might persuade him. "OK Doll" he says "I'll see what I can do..." Wonderful. Wonderful. Just as I hoped. "And Scott..." "Yeah Leanne..." "Just come to the hotel lobby at 8pm, all ready, come in a cab and send it away. Don't bring your car. I'll sort the rest out. OK?" I give him the little-girl tone again and I know he won't resist. "OK Leanne. See you at eight. I'll trust you." "Oh Scotty, you know you can trust me. I'm entirely in your power. I promise it'll be fun..." "Sure Leanne..." "And Scott, my big, strong-armed, powerful lover..." I really don't know how this will go over... but I'm going to try it: "Will you go commando for me?" Scott's eyes go as wide as I've seen eyes go. His jaw drops. I wink at him and shut the door before he has a chance to answer. I check my watch. I'm booked into the hotel salon and spa in 10 minutes. All is going to plan... Chapter Three Still wondering whether Scott will do as I ask I slip quickly up to my room to get ready for my salon appointment. I only have a few minutes so I'd better hurry. I've already been into the salon and spoken to Lauren, the beautician and she knows all about me and assures me there will be no problem with the treatments I have booked. I slip out of my little flat pumps and my dress. Knowing how much Scott would like to be here helping me to undress is such an exciting feeling, the fact that tiny little Leanne, from nowhere, is able to hold this huge, powerful man in thrall is almost enough to make me faint with excitement. Later on I'm planning to put myself entirely in his hands, in his power, for now I feel the power of a feminine soul and it fills me to the brim. Quickly now, I slip out of my tights and bra and swap my knickers for a very tight, but plain and functional, thong. I sweep my hair up into a loose, high ponytail and take off all of my make-up. Feeling a little exposed I swing the hotel's fluffy robe around my shoulders and step into the white-towelling slippers. I make my appointment with 2 minutes to spare. "Leanne to see Lauren," I tell the striking blonde on the reception desk. She has the most amazing hair, not longer than mine but the most dazzling blonde with strawberry hints throughout that catch the light. I've always stayed on the conservative side of blonde and at the moment I have a professional chestnut thing going on, but I start thinking... "Of course Miss Ashley, I'm Mina, can I get you anything while you wait? She explains that Lauren is just finishing up with a client. "No, that's fine," I say. "But..." "Yes Miss Ashley..." "Leanne please, but Mina, what colour is your hair and did you have it done here?" "Well Leanne, I did have it done here, by Lauren as it happens, she designed the colour-plan. She calls it Frosted Strawberry. Do you like it?" I tell her I love it and then I ask her if she minds if another girl steals her look. "What's his name?" Mina asks me. I blush a little. "Is it that obvious?" She nods and I tell her, "He's called Scott" "Uh-huh," says Mina with a tell-me-more smile. "He's very tall, broad as an oak and sweet as a nut." "Sweet as a nut? Is that some English way of saying super-hot?" I just smile at Mina. "You like this guy? OK, you can borrow my hair-colour. Hope it works for you. Look, here's Lauren." Lauren comes in in the traditional beautician's smock with white nylons and flat white ballet-pumps. Mina introduces me. "This is Leanne, she has a hot date tonight with a nut called Scott. She says she wants the frosted strawberry and I get the feeling that's not all she wants..." Mina winks and heads back to the desk. Lauren leads me through to the salon proper. "So, Leanne, you're down for waxing, eyebrows and an evening make-up. What's this about hair?" "Can you fit me in?" I ask "I never really did blonde before but I thought as I was on holiday..." "Sure," says Lauren. "Let's make sure you get what you want tonight. Where's he taking you?" "Well, actually, I'm taking him somewhere..." "Oh, ladies choice, cool, where are you leading the man?" I tell her where I'm planning to take Scott. "Ah-hah, that's quite a place. I can see why you're thinking blonde then. Let's get started then. I'll put the stuff on your hair first, then we can do your waxing and eyebrows while you "cook'." Over the next two hours I luxuriate in the one of the best salons I've ever spent huge amounts of money in. During my full waxing (which to be honest I don't really need) I decide to go all out and have the Hollywood. I've never been so bare before but it makes me feel so utterly and totally girly and I hope Scott will appreciate it later. The pain we go through to be smooth and silky for a man. The eyebrow shape is so dramatic and combined with the evening make-up I look wide-eyed and innocent whilst somehow managing to still look wily and ready for anything. I looooove this loooook and I even let Lauren persuade me away from my usual dark-red lip colours and closer to the scarlet end of things. "If you're going blonde you can go bright. Scott will love you. Just won't be able to resist. What are you wearing?" I tell her and she raises her eyebrows at me. "You know exactly what you want, don't you?" she asks. "That innocent look is so deceptive." I blush again, I don't know what has got into me. Usually I'm so demure. I start to answer Lauren's accusation when the timer dings and it's time to unwrap my new "do. "Saved by the bell..." says Lauren. "Ta da..." I look and I can't believe it. I feel so beautiful, so right and ready. My hair is just as I always imagined it should be when I was a kid. And now I look at the face of the girl I have been growing towards all my life. I don't remember thanking Lauren or paying her or tipping her. I am so entranced with my new look. I text Scott - "I hope you are ready honey, see you in the lobby in 30 minutes'. I wonder what he's thinking. I think about his jeans and tee- shirt stretched tightly under the leather jacket. I think about my plans for the rest of the evening. I have to get dressed. I can't wait to get dressed. I'm going to get dressed and then I will be ready. Up in my room I prepare everything. I spray myself and my clothes with Valentina and put the things in the bathroom that I will need for later. I make sure I am thoroughly clean and fragrant before I dress. First, the new black basque I bought this afternoon. I use it to pull my waist in to my still new, still thrilling tiny 26 inches. I slip my breasts into the cups and settle the straps comfortably on my milk-white, perfumed shoulders. I detach the suspenders, the dress I'm going to be putting on is just too short for stockings. A shame perhaps but although I want to look sexy I am not a slut. I pull on a very tight and sexy black, lace thong with a teasing little scarlet satin bow at the top of the back-ribbon. It sits just at the top of my arse and I can't resist a little look over my shoulder in the mirror. God, I love getting dressed up for a night out. Next I sit on the bed and I slowly feed my legs into a pair of 10 denier "Johnathan Aston Vintage Legs" back-seamed, black tights. I stand slowly and spend a few moments in the mirror making sure the seams are straight. I am not satisfied until they rise from the reinforced triangle of the heel as straight as if they were pulled upwards by some kind of magic magnet of allure. Tights like these are my absolute favourite piece of clothing. I really hope Scott will enjoy looking at them and feeling them from the outside as I do looking at and feeling myself encased in them... After the tights comes my dress. It's black, bondage-tight in a slightly light-catching fabric. Simple shoulder straps and a faux-belt-detail to emphasise my waist. I also put on a lacy-crochet shrug to define my arms and shoulders. Dangly silver earrings, a silver/ruby pendant on a delicate silver chain and several silver bangles on each wrist. I leave off my watch as tonight, as long as Scott is punctual, I don't care what the time is. The skirt of my dress comes down to just past the darker part at the top of my tights. It shows as much of my black-nyloned legs as is modest. These legs now lead down to my six-inch Rocket-Dog heels. Pretty, classic black court-shoes with a sweet ribbon-bow on the vamp and a rock-chick twist. Three-quarter inch platforms under the foot with a tread on them like a work-boot. It hardly shows but it gives the shoes a little edge, a little edge that says I look super-sweet, but there may be a sting. I slip on my AllSaints black leather jacket, biker styled but sooo soft and grab my black, suede clutch (containing just keys, lipstick, some cash and condoms) and step out to the lift (elevator I suppose) and descend to the lobby, only 15 minutes late. As I step out of the elevator I see Scott, he's been waiting patiently I can tell, and I almost faint. He looks soooo good. Rough and tough and strong and mean. I've been holding out for a hero and here he is. He turns and sees me and his eyes go wider than ever before. I think he likes what he sees. I walk straight up to him and kiss him gently on the cheek. He wants more but I no-no him as I don't want these lips messed up yet. "So mister, buy a girl a drink...." He seems unable to speak. I look him up and down and see that he has done as I asked, or else he has stuck a pair of socks down his jeans. He sees me notice the state he's in and blushes like a little boy, again. I take his hand and lead him to a table. There's a cab due in ten minutes. In the meantime I would love to know what is going through Scott's mind... Ah, there's the cab. I'm kind of glad it's arrived because Scott looks fit to burst. He is flushed and breathing a little heavily and I get the idea he may have had enough of the teasing... there's a little more to come but I think he'll think it's worth it. I certainly feel worth it! This is a reaction I could only have dreamed of. I mean, a man like Scott, tall, broad, bright, educated, courteous and so arousing, dressed exactly like I want him and looking only at me. Did any girl ever feel so desired and sexy and gaaawwd I love this feeling! This is how I always want to feel. I've been teasing him with a hand on his thigh, up and down, closer and closer... I break off suddenly and I stand up and do a little twirl. I know he likes short black dresses, I know he likes seams, I know he likes me and I bask in his gaze like it's a sunbeam. Scott stands up too and I almost burst out laughing as I see him trying to rearrange himself discreetly. It's cruel of me but I love it, I love the tribute to my feminine charms. I am almost going to pass-out. Scott seems to sense I need assistance and moves in to support me. I take the opportunity to push my arse into his thigh and I feel a fleeting heat through my skirt, and tights... Phew! We'd better go. I take Scott's hand and lead him out to the cab. As we walk I know he's watching my posterior aspect and I can almost feel his eyes raking up and down like sexy-searchlights..... "So, where are we going...?" he asks. I just turn with a finger to my lips and walk on. Once we are out in the cab, settled close together in the backseat he asks again. This time I put my finger on his lips as I pass the address to the driver. I follow up the finger with the lightest of tender lip-brushes and just the tiniest kitten-bite of his lower lip. Then I pull back before he has time to take it further... Thank god Scott is such a gentleman despite tonight's "bit of rough" look. He sits back in his seat and exhales slowly and I return to doodling teasing circles of the denim of his thigh with my sharp red nails... we sit in this sensual-sweet atmosphere and silence for the entire 20 minutes of the cab journey. I notice the cabby shifting his rear-view mirror, first to my legs, then to my roving hand - perks of the job, hope he likes what he sees... We aren't going far but I was so surprised to find a night like this in this foreign city that I knew as soon as it popped up on my websearch that I had to bring Scott here. Soon we pull up outside The 12Bar Club, a fairly seedy looking downtown place but it's the poster outside I point at. Scott reads: "Sync or Sing - what's that then?" "Wellll," I say, "it's not quite Karaoke and it's not quite lip-sync." Scott looks appalled. He looks at me as if to say, "A freakin" karaoke night, drunk couples singing soppy country and crappy pop to one another all night..." "It's not like that I promise, it's themed around classic rock tracks and the thing is that each singer could either be singing or syncing. The fun is in trying to figure out which. Has that guy" I point across at the queue and a tallish man with long blond curls "really got Robert Plant's voice or is he hiding behind Planty's recorded tones trying to impress the girls... ? See it's fun." Scott still doesn't look convinced. "Are you going to sing?" he asks me. "I'm going to perform for you" I say "up to you to decide whether I have the chops or not... and no bloody saxophone solos to contend with." I wag a mock-admonishing figure and finally Scott cracks a smile and says: "Whatever you say babe. The view's good even if the sounds are suspect" He looks me up and down again and winks. I go wobbly again and concede a kiss. I'm going to have to go straight to the ladies to fix my lips once we're in. This is getting dangerous, I'm perilously close to letting Scott do (or make me do) anything he wants, better move fast. By the time he's seen my act I hope he'll be out of his mind... We queue and get fast-tracked by a winking bouncer (a doorman they call them over here). "Come along guys," he says, "ladies free and if you're with her you get a pass to the front of the line," he tells Scott. "Damn right she's with me," says my tall, powerful date and I snuggle under his arm as he pays the doorgirl (I see you looking girl... ) and we are ushered inside. Despite the slightly classy door policy the club is just the sort of dive I love. The thing is, places like this get a bad name but the guys and girls you meet in The 12Bar and places like it are the most tolerant and accepting people you'll meet anywhere. Outsider music means everyone is accepted, it's kinda beautiful man... Scott snaps me from my hippie musings and asks me if I want a drink. "What have they got?" I ask. "Looks like, beer, beer, bottled beer or bourbon," he tells me. Perfecto! I tell him I'll take a bottle of Becks and give his arse a squeeze as I point at the pink door with the rock-chick silhouette on it across the room. He gives me a pat on the arse that drifts down to a rub on the thigh and I tick away across the room and through the crowd. I feel eyes, not only Scott's, on my arse and legs and I love it. A glance tells me that Scott has seen them too and a wink tells Scott that he needn't worry, tonight I'm all his. I take a moment in a stall to make sure I'm clean and ready for later before refreshing my only slightly smudged lips (you have to be very careful this close to scarlet though, a tiny smudge and you look like you might be available for ?15 a go...). On my way back from the loo I stop at the DJ booth and check they have my track and I book onto the schedule. I'm on third, after a girl called Marilyn and two guys calling themselves Todd and Rundgren. I spot Scott at the bar, two bottles of Becks in one big hand and I catch his eye and square my shoulders before walking directly towards him, giving him the full strut and making sure he knows that it's all for him. I strut right up to him, take a bottle from his hand and take a swig before growling, "Tell me about it, stud..." like Sandra Dee before collapsing in giggles... "I see why you dressed me up," says Scott, "I fit right in." He's right, he does, we both blend in perfectly with the biker-guys and their mini- skirted girls. I love it. I slink up close to Scott and rest my arse on his groin. He sighs, but bears it like a man. And I feel him, a man growing against my bum and I almost swoon, again. We share a few more beers and have just decided on a first round of Bourbons (I WILL NOT drink JD, but (and it's rare I get this lucky) luckily they have my favourite; Sazerac, no ice, Scott has the same and likes it, or says he does) when the DJ calls out that Sync or Sing is about to begin. "Here we go," I tell Scott, "get ready to be proud of me... " "Already am..." "Well, prouder then..." I smile at him as Marilyn takes the stage and opens the evening with a pretty groovy rendition of Me and Bobby McGee. "What do you reckon?" I ask Scott. "Pretty hot, nice legs.. " "Hey, down here," I say "Keep your eyes on me buster! Now, was she singing or syncing?" We agree she was singing as there were a few variations from the classic Janis Joplin vocal line. Marilyn has a pretty good voice and as she leaves the stage she looks at Scott, then she sees me and smiles. It's a genuine smile so we both raise our glasses to her as she heads to the back of the room and her gaggle of girlfriends. Next, Todd and Rungren take the stage and, as might have been expected, drunkenly sync their way through "Born to Run'. It's fun, they are charming and funny and the mood is perfect for me to take the stage. I hear the DJ call my name. "And now, all the way from London, England, Miss Leanne Amy Ashley..." I step up to the stage and take the mic, bobbing a little thankyou to the DJ. I take a moment to locate Scott in the crowd and just as I do and just as the riff kicks in, my chosen song; Transvision Vamp's Baby I Don't Care starts with a crazy-girl howl... then: Well you can give me all your love, and anything else you got too But don't pay it any mind if it seems like I'm acting cool Well you can dress me in your mirror, give me kisses for ever and a day, yeah... But there's just one thing, you don't have to say You don't have to say you love me You don't have to shed any tears You don't have to say you love me Baby it's alright, "cos honey I don't care.... It's the sexiest girl-song I could think off to sing for my my man and I don't know if he's heard it before and I don't know if he likes it but, judging from the look in his eyes as he watches me jump and strut and dance for him he likes this performance, and so does the rest of the audience. Not that I care about that, this is all for one guy. I finish my song and as I hear the DJ saying that he thought English girls were supposed to be reserved I walk down off the stage shaking hair from my eyes and glide on my heels right up to Scott... "Take me home lover..." I mew and... ... it's hard to believe it but Scott picks me up, picks me up in his arms like a bride and carries me out of the club straight into a waiting cab and right back to my hotel. It seems take no time at all but I know that the cabby got a good show of a couple on the verge of explosion on his back seat. Back at the hotel we both know what's on the room-service menu. I am fresh and ready and the front of Scott's tight jeans is giving signals no girl could mistake. We get into my room and Scott is all around me, arms holding securely, lips kissing tenderly, hands running up and down my legs, fingers tracing seams and my knees are giving way and I'm almost entirely his... "One tiny moment lover... and don't you dare undress, that pleasure I want for myself..." I drag myself from him and into the bathroom where I have things lined up and ready. I have to work fast, I can't let the moment be lost. I unzip and drop my dress on the bathroom floor and shake out my hair and refresh my lips one last time... In seconds I attach the suspenders to my basque and swap tights for stockings, same brand, same seams and then I slip back into my heels. I make sure I am tucked in front and slippery inside and ready and then, in less than a minute I am back in the room, in my underwear, alone with the sexiest man I've ever been close to. He is just so big... I strut across and he grabs we and we are kissing again, I suck hungrily on his tongue as he fills my mouth with his breath and my nose with his hot husky man-smell I run my hands over the rock-hard bulge behind the single layer of denim, it twitches and I hope he isn't too close to... I can only stand so much of this myself before my knees will give out on me... they do. We are kissing, facing each other and I slide down the front of his body and find myself kneeling before him, in supplication. He has done so much for me, endured so much, been so restrained and gentlemanly, so patient... I reach up and, while one hand rubs and caresses the bulge the other puts it's red-tipped fingers on his zip and slowly pulls it down... There is no need for any encouragement, Scott's cock springs out before me, it is firm and full and with it comes another blast of that wonderful man-funk. I lean forward and ever-so-gently tongue the drops of pre-cum from the tip, sweetly salt and so satisfying. I am literally trembling with desire and excitement. This is all I have wanted to do since we met just those few days ago. But the wait, as I knew it would, the anticipation has made it exquisite. I gently wrap my fingers around his balls and place a delicate kiss on the tip of his cock before opening my mouth and taking him in. He thrusts forward, firm but gentle and I begin to make love to his cock. Licking and nibbling, along the underside and around under the sensitive edge at the top. Gently, I want this to last, the taste, the sensation, the carpet on my nyloned knees and his belly-hair tickling my nose. Up and down, in and out, licking and tasting and knowing that this is where I belong. I am wet myself, dribbling into my knickers, so wet, I spare a hand to my own crotch for a second, just a second then it is back on Scott's legs, his buttocks, his balls... I feel them tighten, I get ready... Scott makes a powerful, male noise, deep in his throat and then... I swallow, swallow, swallow... there is almost too much, I hope that there will be more but for now we are in unison, content, this makes us who we are, he is man and I am woman and this is heaven... I look up into Scott's eyes, his cock still in my mouth. He smiles down on me and then, from the pocket of his jacket, the jacket I dressed him in, he pulls the handcuffs... If you would like to know what happens next... let me know... LAA - July 2012