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SECRET RENDEZVOUS By Dulaney Browne I had expected the knock on my hotel door for a long time. When it came, I checked my watch: 7:00PM. Right on time. However, it took a bit before I answered. I wanted to make sure everything was just perfect. When I opened the door, I could tell she was apprehensive. We had discussed meeting in various exotic locales for a solitary magical night— Paris , Monte Carlo , Rio de Janeiro . I was a bit surprised when she suggested the Caribbean . She was a news reporter for a local TV station who occasionally did anchor jobs on the weekends. She loved to travel and was paid well enough to afford pricy vacations. She could have picked any place in the world to meet. Still, the Caribbean seemed a romantic enough choice. We had met online. We chatted casually at first, then for hours at a time. I came to know her likes and dislikes: what made her happy, how she thought, what turned her off, and more importantly, what turned her on. After about six months, we started calling each other. Then we met a few times in person, just for drinks, and then for dinner. At last, we decided a getaway might be exciting. For this “secret rendezvous,” as she liked to call it, I had promised her new sensations. New delights, things she had talked about, things I know she had only fantasized about, but had not tried. I decided she would know pleasure tonight as she’d never known before. I would have pleasure too. “Hi,” I said, opening the door. “Come Şerifali Escort on in.” “Hi,” she said with a nervous laugh. Her eyes darted back and forth as if expecting to see something besides a luxurious but rather ordinary hotel room. All there was to see was my barely unpacked suitcase, an oversized briefcase sitting at an awkward angle on the dresser, and a silver bucket with iced Champaign . We hugged affectionately. Her perfume mixed sweetly with the scents of soap and shampoo. “You look great,” I said, stepping back and gorging myself with her beauty. She was small framed, but long limbed, tanned, athletic. She wasn’t fashion-magazine gorgeous, but she had a perky, girl-next-door quality that I just could not resist. “Relax,” I said, taking her hand and leading her to the couch. “I can’t,” she said with the same laugh. “I am so nervous…..” “There’s no reason to be nervous,” I said. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” “I hope not,” she smiled. I laughed as I poured us a drink. I wanted her to be at ease so we just sipped Champaign and talked for a while. We talked about important things and not so important things. We made each other laugh, made each other think, basked in each other’s company. It was wonderful just to be together. And I loved the way she looked at me—as if to say “This is right.” Finally, the talk took an awkward pause. I looked in her eyes. She looked in mine. We kissed for the first time. It was awkward, casual, and sweet, more Şerifali Escort Bayan like two shy adolescences than serious adults. Still, it ended too quickly. “Stand up,” I said. She hesitated, clearly unsure of what I meant or what she should do. Then it registered. “Oh,” she said in realization. I guided her to the center of the room, turned her around, facing away from me. I felt myself stirring as her firm body nuzzled against mine. I began undoing the buttons on the back of her white summer dress. She tried to help, but I stilled her hands. “Stop,” I whispered. “OK.” I gave her a solid whack on the bottom. She started, gasped, shocked. “The appropriate response is ‘Yes, Sir,’ ” I said. “Yes, Sir,” she said with a little smile, warming quickly to the game. I forced her small hands down to her sides then pushed the straps away from her shoulders and let the dress drop away. My hands slowly traced her smooth curves, feeling the arcs and turns of her body. Her skin was soft, like flower petals. When I undid her bra and slid her panties over her hips, they fell in a puddle around her bare feet and she slowly stepped out of them. I imagined the delights I was about to provide her, that she was about to provide to me. God, she was luscious. “Turn around,” I said. “I want to see you.” “Yes, Sir,” she said in a soft voice. I devoured her lithe Escort Şerifali body with my eyes. I touched every bit of her with my gaze, admired her as I would a work of art. “Eyes down.” “Yes, Sir,” she said again. She stared at the floor. Waiting. Not moving, except to breathe. I thought I still detected a hint of a smile. She timidly offered her arms and she trembled when I fastened black leather cuffs around her wrists. The posture collar I put on her was wide and rigid. She had to stretch her neck to accommodate its thickness. Her honey-colored hair cascaded around it, contrasting nicely with the black leather. Then I pulled her wrists behind her and clipped them together. Her eyes remained down. She was breathing harder and beads of perspiration broke out on her skin. She was still nervous; but she was getting excited. I slipped an index finger through the oversized ring on the collar and spun her around. I pulled her up on her tiptoes as my tongue probed between her lips, seeking her tongue, seeking to play with and explore her. I held her hard against my body, already wanting her. She returned my passion. The soft mounds of her breasts collapsed against me as we kissed. Then I broke off and lowered her down from her toes. She caught her breath, her eyes wide. She was stunned at my intensity. I moved behind her again. “You may kiss them,” I said, bringing a set of nipple clamps to her lips. The metal reflected her soft mouth as she kissed each clamp. I looped an end through the ring on her collar and let the clamps dangle between her small breasts. I brushed her nipples lightly with the tips of my fingers. Her aureoles crinkled and I rolled her nipples between my fingers, pulling and twisting to heighten their sensitivity.
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