'It was a warm and sunny day.'

I looked down at the pavement and giggled. Yep, I could visualize it now - that would make an excellent start to the story. Nothing trite about it, right? I pictured my creative writing prof's face - the one she would have made if I had ever dared turn in a story with a beginning mocking the worst beginning in all of writing history.

Deep breath and I looked up and around me. It really was a glorious day. The street corner was one of those intersections in the newly trendy warehouse district. I figured he'd picked this spot to meet me on purpose.

Anything to make this just a bit more of a test for me. Something to make this just a bit more of a thrill for him.

My right foot was tapping nervously on the concrete. Where was he anyway? I checked my watch again. He was definitely late. I was really going to blister his ear - leaving me out here like this. And, God, traffic was picking up. It was just getting to that magical time period when all the suits who inhabited this newly gentrified area would be coming home after working in their nice air-conditioned buildings downtown. I could see some already, in their cars driving slowly past where I was hanging around on the corner. Crap. I hoped no one I knew drove by.

I looked down at the foot tapping. Nice shoes, I thought. I wonder if he'll notice. Smiled to myself. Hell, yeah, the boy would notice. Little devil. He would notice. And, more than that, he'd appreciate the effort. I had definitely made an effort.

Swiveled the heel around and took in the three-inch stiletto. Man. When was the last time I'd ever worn shoes with heels this high? And they were red. Cherry red. Slut shoes, my best friend called these kinds of hurt-me pumps. I shifted uncomfortably on them. They were hurting. I couldn't wait to get them off but knowing him, he'd probably make me keep them on.

I heard a motor approaching, slowing down next to the curb, and I glanced up in high hopes it was him. Nope. Black Benz. Stopping. Right there by me. Shit! The window on the passenger side was gliding down. I looked away, turned my head deliberately so the driver would see I was ignoring him.

"Hey, baby." I rolled my eyes but of course, he couldn't see my eye action since I was wearing black sunglasses. I tried ignoring him harder. Right. So, he says: "How much?"

I laughed, nervous, and felt myself sweat just a bit. This, yeah, this was just what I needed. But then something came over me. Something - was it those heels? - made me suddenly not just bold but saucy. I leaned very slowly from my waist until I could peer into his window, as if to say to him 'you're barely worth the effort to acknowledge.' What I said was: "If you have to ask, you can't afford me. Now fuck off."

"Bitch." He looked like he was going to have a stroke and it actually made me feel powerful to have pissed off a suit. "You're walking the street and talking about me not being able to afford you? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"What part of 'fuck off' didn't you understand? The 'fuck' or the 'off'?" I asked sweetly.

He gave me the finger, called me another choice name and peeled off. I watched him speed down the street. Licked my lips and thought to myself, 'Well, that was interesting.'

Suddenly, it seemed to me, every man in a suit who was driving a car down this street was eyeing me and that made me feel ... well, fuck, it made me feel like I was the A-One Special on the evening's Sex Menu. I turned away from the street, walking a few steps toward the building nearest me. Smoothed down the black leather skirt that suddenly felt way, way too short. Felt the way the thigh high hose were clinging to me. The small bit of a breeze I kicked up in walking felt like a fan was blowing on my clit since I had no panties on.

Well, crap, I had to be prepared, right? I mean, really, isn't this what all the girls did? God, I hoped it was because he hadn't given me a whole lot of clues as to what he was really expecting me to dress like. He had said to use my imagination. To see if I felt like I knew him well enough to know what he'd want. I looked at myself in the reflection of the plate glass window in the empty store I was facing. Well, damn. It really was me - who would have guessed. I looked hard at me, from head to toe, and wondered again just what statement I'd been planning to make. Seemed to me I was giving out mixed signals. From the waist up, I looked classy albeit sexy. From the waist down, there was no mistaking the message I was giving out.

Behind me, I could hear another car pulling slowly to the curb and I watched its progress in the window's reflection. Sky blue Beemer and I rolled my eyes to heaven and prayed for intervention.

I heard another male voice at my back and didn't even turn around. It wasn't the voice of the man I was waiting for. Besides, he wouldn't have been caught dead in that kind of vehicle. I flipped the guy the bird behind my back and he called me a bitch. Okay, then. We all seemed to be in agreement. I was a bitch.

Looked at my watch again. All-rightie now, I was getting pissed. The bastard was twenty minutes late. My feet were killing me.

And then I heard it; the muffled quality of the engine sounded very familiar. I turned and walked back toward the street. My breath caught in my throat because I suddenly got really scared. I mean flee-for-my-life scared. Looked down at the shoes and skirt. Oh, Christ. What if he hated this? But it was too late to run away because by then I knew he could see me.

A motorcycle was approaching that I knew instantly was his and I decided that I wouldn't just tough this out. If I was going to carry this off, even in the face of his disapproval, the only chance I had was doing it with attitude. Instead of walking the rest of the way toward the street, I slinked. Slow. Brassy. Final movement: I tossed my head like a hussy and coolly watched him on the motorcycle as he stopped and idled next to where I stood. Sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Libido God that he'd gotten a new helmet to replace the Elmer Fudd one. He took off his sunglasses, real slow, making a show of his interest in me.

"Hello there, sweetheart." He gave it to me with both barrels - smoky voice that was deeply rumbling from that chest - magnificent. I could feel the gathering of my wetness.

"Looking for a little action, big boy?" I put my hands on my hips and sort of arched my back so my breasts were shown to their best advantage in the light sweater I was wearing. Virginal white, the softest cashmere and so fucking expensive that I couldn't believe the salesclerk hadn't held a gun on me when she robbed me of the money I had to fork over to own it. Between the sweater and the soft suede jacket, the outfit I was wearing was what I hoped an upscale call girl would wear. But the skirt and shoes were ... well, let's face it, they were slutty enough that three men had now assumed I was a prostitute.

"How much?" Taking out his cigarettes, lighting one up, his eyes studying me but his body language saying that he needed convincing.

"Depends on what you have in mind. Why don't you tell me what you want?" I moved in closer to him, put one of those red pumps up on the footrest his boot had abandoned and let my calf "accidentally" rub against his leg. When I stretched that leg up onto the footrest, I knew what would happen. The skirt hiked up just a bit, but it was just enough to show that I was willing to push him.

He took a deep drag on his cigarette and very slowly looked down at my legs. He reached a hand toward me and I took a deep breath. Oh, sweet Lord. He was wearing his riding gloves again. Very deliberately, he placed that warm hand on the inside of my thigh, just inches above my knee. Light squeeze, like he was testing my leg's ripeness, and then he inched his hand upwards. I put my hand down and stopped him just as he reached under my skirt.

"Just checking for hidden wires, sweetheart. Nothing personal. Don't fancy taking the chance that you could be an undercover cop."

What? Undercover cop? What was he doing? Was he trying to fuck with my mind? Well, yeah. Duh. Of course he was. And, of course, he was testing to see if I could actually stay in character.

"So you thought what? You'd get a free rub in while you could?" Taking my foot down and moving away from him. "Why don't you just fuck off? I don't give samples away and I don't like being insulted."

His hand caught my elbow and drew me toward him. Hard voice saying, "I asked how much. You asked for what. Here's what I want. You. For the night. Suck and fuck. As many times and ways as I want. Is that what you need to know?"

I gulped hard and my jaw about hit the pavement. Hearing his tongue wrap itself around those words and saying them like that ... Christ Almighty. He placed his index finger under my chin and gently closed my mouth.

"Damn, Josh," I whispered to him and if he'd been able to see my eyes, he would have seen they were pleading for mercy.

Turning his head from me quickly but not so fast that I didn't catch this big grin break out on him, he said, "Tina, baby, stay with it."

But he recovered quickly and when he turned back to me, his face was like stone. He cocked an eyebrow at me. My mind scrambled to figure out what I was supposed to be doing just then. Let's see now ... oh, yeah. We were talking money. Bending carefully from the waist, knowing that at that angle I'd be able to press a breast against his upper arm while I leaned toward his ear and whispered, "That'll be expensive, sport, 'cause I'm pretty good at what I do. Think you can afford me?"

He turned his head into me and I felt his lips floating just above my neck, like the whisper of a feather drawing against my skin. "Name your price."

"$250,000," I said, pulling a figure out of the sky.

He almost choked. "Fuck! Sweetheart, are you fucking crazy?" Giggling at me and then turning away to compose himself. He looked back at me and let me watch as his eyes traveled up and down my body. "A quarter of a fucking million dollars? What the fuck do you do to earn that?"

"I fuck." Rubbed my breasts against his arm. "And I can assure you, big boy, I'm worth it."

He started giggling again and then quickly caught himself. Adopting his serious voice, he said, "You better be, sweetheart. I've never paid that much for a whore before. This should be interesting. Now get on."

He reached into one of the bike's compartments and pulled out a helmet. I made a real show of putting it on. Swiveling my hips as I cinched it up, licking my lips at him as I adjusted it. When I went to get on, I suddenly realized this little get-up of mine had a slight problem.

"Um. I might need a little help here," I told him quietly. I pointed down at my skirt and when he looked confused I raised my leg up a little to show him that if I tried to hoist myself into the seat behind him by myself, I'd almost have to roll the hem up to my waist to accomplish that maneuver. "You'll have to get up."

Taking his time. Tossing his cigarette to the curb and easing himself off the bike. Standing next to me, he watched me sit my ass on the back seat. I was getting ready to sweep a leg over the now-empty space before me but then I stopped and looked around. Okay, now there just had to be a lady-like way I could do this because if I kept going, I'd be giving a free show to anybody looking my way. I looked at him, just to see if he'd lend a hand, but he was getting this evil grin on his face and it looked like he was really enjoying the show.

"Need some help, sweetheart?" he said smoothly, then came toward me. Putting a hand on the knee of the leg I was attempting to swing over the bike. Massaging it lightly and then kind of leaning toward me, his lips glancing along my throat as he shoved the leg over. Distracting me with the promise of a kiss while he did about the only thing that could be done to get me on the bike.

I looked down and the skirt was really riding up. I struggled to pull it down just a bit. "Leave it," he growled. "Once I'm in front of you, no one will be able to see up your skirt anyway."

And with that, he retook his seat.

I put my hands into his pockets and snuggled in against his big back. My bare pussy slid against the leather of the seat, slick from my wetness. My cheek rested against the leather of his jacket and I breathed in the smell that had become one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs I'd known.

When we took off, I saw a young couple watching us from the opposite street corner. And realized that real people were out there who'd been studying our little negotiation session. And just knew those people thought ...

Well, hell, of course they thought I was a hooker and he was my john. And that's when the full impact of what he wanted settled in on me. This fantasy of his - he wanted everything about this encounter to be just so. It made me smile and I felt deliciously wicked.

He had whispered this fantasy to me in a moment when he'd first really felt that comfortable with me to do it on purpose. Knowing I wouldn't make fun of him but that I would at least consider helping him with it. But, then, I'm the kind of girl who understands and respects fantasies.

His fantasy was to have me really be the bad girl I'd teased him that I could be. And not just any kind of a bad girl - nope, he wanted his own personal pro for the night. But also the kind of bad girl who'd understand this was more than just a fuck session; what it was really was a chance to explore a sensual adventure with someone you'd trust that completely.

It had taken me a month to get up the nerve to suggest to him that he let me make his fantasy come true. And then it took us another week to really set it up. My preparation work was getting the right outfit. His part was telling me where and when to meet him. But, from there? It was my show.

Strangest thing about doing this with him is that I really did feel different. Like I was in disguise. Like no one would really recognize me so I was free to just become another persona. Well, that is, when he wasn't making me drop out of character by simply making me lose it.

We stopped at a red light and he peered at me over his shoulder. Gave him quick directions to my "crib" for the night while he nodded at me. Then I blew him a little kiss and told him, "I'm gonna take such good care of you tonight, big boy."

His face whipped back forward and I felt him chuckle against where I was nestled next to him. Okay, well now. That was a pisser. Laughing at me while I was in character? That wouldn't do and I needed to reassert myself in this little charade. In my most seductive voice, I said, "I'm not wearing any panties, big boy. I'm so fucking wet for you. Want to feel how wet I am?"

Took hold of his arm and dragged it back toward me until I could slide my fingers around his hand. As discreetly as I could, I maneuvered his hand between us and under my skirt. He shoved his fingers against my wetness and I felt his entire body stiffen against me and he shifted a bit. Smiled to myself. Take that, I thought, as he quickly retrieved his hand when the light turned green.

At the next red light, he looked back at me and I got his intense look. Gruff voice saying, "Wanna get something to eat first?"

Huh? Eat? And he wasn't talking about eating me? I mean, he was talking about taking me out to dinner? While I was considering this turn of events, the light turned green and he zipped through the intersection. About two blocks down, he pulled into a parking lot for this dinky little dive of a diner.

Almost hopping off the motorcycle, he stood next to me and just watched me slide my leg over the bike and then I kind of swiveled off the seat. "Such a gentleman," I told him in a snide voice.

"Sweetheart, you weren't really under the impression I was a gentleman, were you?"

"Honey, all I really care is that you've got what it takes to get me into bed." Paused a beat and then started strutting away from him and toward the diner's door. Over my shoulder, I tossed back the rejoinder: "Money, honey. And plenty of it."

And this time, he laughed out loud and that was okay because I'd meant it as the kind of joke someone like me should make.

When I got to the entrance, I felt his arm around my waist and his hand reached out to open the door for me. Not a gentleman, my foot. I grinned at this slip up of his, but he couldn't see me since I wasn't facing him.

We sat opposite each other in a booth at the rear of the diner. After we ordered sandwiches and beers, he leaned back in his seat and studied me. Having him examine me that way made me nervous, so I went on the attack.

"So, honey, what brings you to our fair city? Here on business or pleasure?"

Licked his lips and the temperature went up noticeably. "Pure pleasure."

"Well, then, you got the right girl for tonight. 'Cause that's what I am. Pure pleasure."

"Absolutely." He whispered it hoarsely to me, almost under his breath. It made me smile at him. Then he looked around the place for a few tics. Turned back to me, saying, "Meet me back by the restrooms in two minutes."

I blinked at him and would have said, "Huh?" but he was already out of the booth and walking back through a door near us. I looked over my shoulder at where he'd disappeared and saw the sign for the restrooms. Oh, crap. It dawned on me that he'd planned this. He had something up his sleeve.

Looked at my watched and counted off two minutes. But just as I was getting up, the waiter came over to refill our waters. I ordered another round of beer. When he left, I slid out of the booth and went through the swinging door.

It led to a hallway. The women's room was the first door to my left. The hallway was dark and I couldn't see well, but I spied another door and assumed it was the men's. Walking tentatively, I approached that further room.

He stepped from around a corner that was at the very end of the hallway. "You're late," he growled and he sounded like a lion about to pounce on his prey.

"The waiter ..." I began but I never got any further.

His hand grabbed my arm and he pulled me toward him as he backed around the corner. Pushing me up against a wall, he leaned in toward me and sniffed my neck. "So, sweetheart? Just how bad of a girl can you be?"

Deep gulp because I could feel that he was hard and I guessed what he had in mind. Shouldn't have told him about not having panties on, I thought. Then thought, well, hell's bells, I can either do this or I can't. And I wanted to do this for him, for his fantasy. "I'll be as bad as you need me to be, big boy," I whispered to him.

Felt his tongue lick slowly up the side of my neck before his teeth grabbed for my earlobe. Husky whisper to tell me, "You bad enough to let me fuck you right here and love it?"

"Oh, yeah, baby. You know it. Give it to me hard, honey," was my instant and heartfelt response. Like I was channeling someone. I kind of liked her. She was going to have such a good time that night.

He had a hand between my thighs already; I sucked in a breath at the way his fingers always knew what to do. Already so wet and he just seemed to have the magic touch to make me even wetter.

I reached for him, rubbing him hard and feeling up the outline of his cock. "My God, you really are a big boy."

Hell. I'd been rehearsing that little line all week but I so meant it in that moment. And he could tell, too. I saw it in his eyes. But his reaction was most unexpected. His hand left me and gripped my wrist, pulling my hand off him.

"You'd do it, wouldn't you, Tina?" he whispered, in a hoarse voice full of confusion. "You'd fuck me here? Anyone could walk in and find us."

"Fuck me, Josh. C'mon. It's what we both want."

"Tina, love, you have no idea how much that turns me on. That you're willing."

Confused. Knowing I was about to be frustrated. "I thought ..."

"Just wanted to see how far you would be willing take it." Feather light kiss and he pulled away from me. "Bodes well for the night."

He left me there, leaning against the wall and feeling like the earth was moving on without me. When my feet would obey me, I went back into the restaurant. He was sipping beer from a long neck as his eyes closely followed my movements while I slid into the booth opposite him.

"I was watching you. Did you know that?" he whispered, a gruff voice invading my mind.

I shook my head and looked into his eyes, seeing darkness. His lips had a sweet curve to them.

"What did you tell the guy in the Benz? Did he proposition you?"

"He wanted to know how much. I told him he couldn't afford me," I said. "I was waiting for you. You were late."

"I wasn't late. I was watching you. Wanted to be sure you were safe." Rumbling voice from his chest that sent vibrations across the table and bumped against me. Getting a quick mental image of him, watching me, getting turned on to see another man hot for me in that get-up. "Love the skirt, Tina. Nice touch. But the fucking shoes. Damn."

We didn't say too much more after our sandwiches were delivered by the waiter. When we left, this time I made him really help me get on the motorcycle. I tried not to be too feisty on the ride and he probably didn't notice. He seemed pretty intent on getting to the motel in which I'd taken a room because he barely acknowledged me on the ride.

The bounce up into a parking lot made me come alert to my surroundings. The motel. The drive up kind. One of those old-fashioned looking ones that used to be on the state highways before the expressways bypassed them. Kitsch? Isn't that the word? Whatever. It looked like someone had gone to a lot of trouble to clean the place up, spruce it back into prime condition and it felt like we had entered a time warp. I pointed the way to the room I'd rented for the night.

Keys in hand and we were inside. He moved me into the center of the room by basically prodding me forward with his body. His mouth was busy sucking down my neck and his hands were pretty occupied with how good my breasts felt with the covering of cashmere.

"Slow down, big boy. We have all night," I told him, surprised the voice was right because I thought it might come out shaking as hard as my knees were.

"There're things I want to do with you," he muttered darkly. "Starting now."

But this wasn't what he needed. He needed me to be someone he couldn't really dominate that night. He needed me to be calling the shots. My body twisted in his grip and I edged away from him. Smiled at him over my shoulder and slipped my jacket off. Caught it with my fingers just as it was about to drop to the floor and then took a lot of time to hang it up in the little closet.

"Why don't we have a nice little drink and just get acquainted. You can tell me all your dirty little wishes and I'll see what I can do about making them come true tonight," I said, holding out the ice bucket to him. Wanting to see if he'd simply obey me in this or if I'd misjudged what he'd wanted.

"Stay wet. I'll be right back," his gruff voice replied. 

Giggled out loud when he left and said to the room, "Well, fuck me. I think I might like this game a lot more than I expected."

By the time he returned, I had positioned myself just so. My ass, pressed obscenely yet invitingly inside the leather skirt, was perched delicately on the arm of the couch. I had one pump-clad foot resting on the coffee table and the other was crossed above it. From where he entered the room, I knew the first thing he'd see was my legs on display.

He stopped short and just looked at me. No pretense on his face; he actually looked startled. Then he kind of shook himself and closed the door. As he turned back toward the room, I chose the moment when his head would be looking right toward me. That's when I delicately took my top leg off the bottom knee and set it on the floor. Somewhere in that little Sharon Stone maneuver, he was looking straight up my skirt and he could see what he'd only felt earlier at the diner.

Thigh high hose. He had told me once ... God, when was it? ... that he had a thing for thigh high hose. No garters, he said, it was somehow sexier just knowing that there was this little grip of material that held them firmly in place and that he could slip between your legs and feel the soft caress of nylons while he thrust into you.

"Fuck," he muttered. "You look good, baby."

Making me smile at the compliment. I scooped the ice bucket from his hand and set it on the counter. Kept my legs straight and about a foot apart as I bent over to rummage inside the mini-bar. Drawing back up with little liquor bottles and a cola. I looked in the big mirror I was facing and examined his reaction to that tactic. His eyes were latched to my ass and he had beads of sweat on his upper lip.

Another smile from me but it was for myself. Pleased as a cream-intoxicated kitten and feeling more confident in being bad. Busied myself with making us each a rum and coke.

Startled breath escaped me when he pressed in against me, one of his arms circling my waist to keep me steady. He still wasn't looking up. I felt one of his hands on my leg, below the hem of my skirt. This purring noise came out of him as his hand caressed my thigh.

Then, slow. Slow enough to be sure I'd sweat at each second passing. He took one finger and drew this hard bead up my leg. When he reached the hem of my skirt, he sort of bent sideways and watched with a ferocious intensity as his finger went further up. Above the top of my hose, just above where they clung hard to my upper thigh, he put his entire hand on me and moved to caress the bare, sensitive skin there.

I was watching him, for once with an open intensity that rivaled his.

"Oh, baby," I groaned. "Not the gloves."

His eyes looked right into me and his only acknowledgement of the fact that I knew he'd kept his leather riding gloves on was the quick, challenging rise of his eyebrows.

"Now, big boy, let's just remember who's in charge here tonight," I said. Tough words, but not delivered well at all since my voice was shaking.

He hadn't touched me this way with those gloves since the day I had developed my leather fetish. Now, he was using them on purpose. And, even knowing this, I was helpless. When he slipped a bare finger in me and stroked across my clit with the leather-clad palm, I moaned and found myself leaning back against him. My head lolled against his shoulder and I shut my eyes when the second finger entered me.

"Tell me who's in charge tonight, sweetheart," he said, his voice this black, silky stroke of my lust.

"You are," I whispered obediently.

"You'll do what I say." Not a question.

"Absolutely. Suck and fuck," I whispered weakly. Then, he rubbed me so hard that I thought I was coming.

"Want to come, Tina?" Asking so softly, like he was taking pity on me. I nodded at him; tight, quick movements of my head. Then, in a much harder voice, he ordered, "Sweater. Off."

My eyes snapped open and locked instantly with his. Big sigh from me and I was slowly peeling my sweater from my body. Taking my time, teasing him, showing an inch of skin at a time. Had it almost off, my arms over my head, almost ready to get my arms free of the material.

Stop. His hands were roaming the newly exposed skin at my midriff. Now there were three textures. Slightly calloused fingers. Leathered palms. Wetness - mine - on the fingers of one hand.

It took me so long to process the new stroking. Only then could I get the sweater the rest of the way off. It finally dropped from my fingers to the floor.

At first, I just watched his hands kneading me. Then I found his eyes in the mirror. He had a hard smile. He let me watch him turn his attention to my breasts. And it made me smile a little evil grin at his expense. I'd picked this bra, like I'd picked the rest of the outfit, for the impact I hoped it would have on him.

It was one of those demi-bras and my breasts are plump enough that they almost spilled over the top. But this bra was too well made for my body type and that would never have happened. Rather, it was like the tops were raised up, on display for him.

And that looked good and inviting. But it was the fabric's sheen as well as its almost transparent quality that made it even more perfect. The shape of my hard nipples was seen easily and their color was thinly veiled by the pearly material.

"Oh, I approve," he finally breathed, as he let one finger tweak me lightly.

The power shifted between us. I think it was the realization that just in that moment dawned on him. The message I was sending as if by sexual Morse Code. That I was focused totally in testing his true desire for the fantasy.

Slowly, so gently, I slid my hands behind my back to my waist. The zipper to my skirt.  I'd practiced this move in my bedroom. Pretty certain that there'd be some request for stripping. Taking several tries to finally develop the techniques for him. For this moment. I wanted to get it right.

He pressed in against me as my hands dragged the zipper down. Down. Lower. I grazed his hardness and kept going as he licked up my neck. Zipper down all the way and I shimmied against him to get the skirt to drop down over my hips.

"You should be illegal," he said with this exaggerated moan.

It made me giggle. "So happens, prostitution is illegal in this state, big guy."

But he was so busy trying to decide what he'd do. "Spread your legs. Wide."

He flicked a stroke across my clit that made me shudder and gasp. I put an arm up around his neck and held on.

Mouth on my shoulder. Tongue and teeth. Hand on me below. Playing in my wetness. Circling my eager bundle of nerves.

"Look at yourself, Tina. Open your eyes, love." Whispering; seducing me. And I smiled at him in the mirror. "Now, just watch how beautiful you look when you're ready to come."

Now focused massaging on my clit. Fingers of the other hand entering me. His thigh trying to get in between mine.

The feel of him; hard.

Seeing the flush lighting my skin. Seeing the lighting flash in my eyes. Rush of arousal.

"Now don't close your eyes." Sex voice. The one I wished was solid so I could fuck it. "Here it comes, Tina. Yeah, good girl. Come for me."

In his hands. Apart. Together. Inward focus. Outward intensity. Screaming inside. Moaning outside. Heart pounding. Knees buckling. Coming on command. Coming. In his hands.

He bent to my neck and kissed soft. His eyes were still watching me see what was happening with my body. But when I snapped out of the trance, I instantly took charge again. Turning in his arms, sealing my lips to his, eyes open, pushing his big body toward the bed.

He thought I was already lost. That's what his almost passive kissing told me. Silly man. I shoved him to sit on the edge of the bed and then crawled into his lap, my legs straddling him. Kissing his neck. Hands on his shoulders. "So, big boy, want to have some fun with me? Want to try an experiment?"

Leaning back. Eyes on him. His eyes watching my breasts. He licked his tongue across the top of one and then the other. "Take the bra off," he commanded.

"Not yet."

Eyes quick at me.

My hand was by then stroking him and he shifted against me.

"What do you have in mind?" For once, he was sounding like he was ready to willingly give up an element of control.

"Sit here and wait. I need something from my bag." I moved slowly from him, giving his hardness a parting squeeze. Grinning to myself when he groaned. After fishing around inside the overnight case I'd deposited in the room earlier that day, I turned to face him. Twirling a set of handcuffs around my forefinger. Another little move I'd practiced just for this occasion.

At first, he couldn't mask the interest that popped out on his face. But he tried quickly to mask it behind a smile. "So. Leather and bondage ..." he began.

"Shhh." I put a finger on his mouth and crawled back on his lap. "Now's not the time for you to talk, honey. You're about to have to make some decisions and you'll want to keep quiet so you can hear your options."

Strong hands ran down my back and soft lips were like feathers on my neck. "Right. I'm listening."

A finger on his chin and I was forcing him to look me in the eyes.

"Handcuffs, yes?" He nodded at me as I dangled them before his face. "First question: which option do you want, because we're gonna do whatever you want tonight, however you want it. So. Option A: you use the cuffs on me and do whatever you want with me."

"I like the sound of that," he cut in, his eyes glinting, giving me this short giggle.

"Hush. Option B: you have me use the cuffs on you. And ..." I paused as his eyes shifted. "And then I'll do whatever you want to you. Even if what you want is for me to use my imagination."

He swallowed hard. His eyes left mine and watched the cuffs swing from my finger. He shifted under me again. I was studying his eyes and I could see he was playing both scenarios out in his mind.

"Tick tock, big boy. What'll it be?"

When the color in his cheeks seemed to get almost ruddy, I knew what he'd decided before he even had the chance to tell me.

"You do me," he said in a low, deep rumble. "Cuffs on me."

"Good boy," I whispered in his ear and felt him swallow again. "So now you have another decision to make.

"What?" Another rumble.

"Do you want to tell me what you want me to do? Or, do you want to leave yourself at my mercy?"

No hesitation and I knew why. Once he'd made up his mind that he wanted to be the one bound, he wanted to take the further risk. "Have mercy on me, baby," he said, with this little chuckle that didn't hide the way this made him nervous.

"You're sure?" Using my huskiest whisper. Felt his head nod against me. "Then let's get started. Take your shirt off and get that cute ass of yours up on the bed so I can cuff you to the headboard."

I stood at the foot of the bed and watched as he scooted straight away from me. He reached his arms straight over his head and held the bars at the headboard.

His eyes watched my reaction. Quick breath in and I was back in charge of myself. I slowly crawled over his body, smiling sweetly at him. Straddling his chest, I leaned in and slid one cuff around a wrist, looped the other cuff around one of the bars, then snapped it shut over his other wrist.

"Too tight?" I asked with genuine concern. He assured me they were fine and he pulled against them to test how much play he had. Satisfied he was secure, I hopped off him and walked back to my bag.

"Now what, Tina? Gag and blindfold?"

Looking at him over my shoulder. "Nope. I happen to want you watching. And I'd never gag you, baby. I love your voice too much. And I just know that however you express yourself, it's going to be sounds I definitely will get off on hearing."

From my little bag, I pulled a small plastic bottle. Smile of invitation, smile of scheming.  In response to his suspicious rise of the eyebrows, I said, "Just some oil. For your skin. It'll feel good."

Setting the oil next to him on the bedside table, I set to work getting more of his flesh exposed. Boots first, socks next. Avoiding his grin as I concentrated on his belt buckle. But when I had two fingers on his zipper, I stared up at him.  That was always my downfall with him. His eyes.

My mouth dropped atop his and we traded tongues while I got the zipper down.  But before I went further with his jeans, I kept my mouth latched to his and rubbed myself against his chest, just to feel it.

"Raise your hips," I told him and when he did, I was able to drag his jeans down. "So, I'm not the only hussy here running around sans undies."

"Like you, I knew they'd just get in the way," he responded.

Evil grin his way. Reaching for the oil, just a bit in my hands to warm it, watching him, taking his form in. The way his chest seemed to expand across the bed. The way his stomach had this slightly mushy quality but with his arms stretched over his head, it went taut enough that I could see every stuttering breath he was taking echo across it.

I started lightly working the oil into the mellow warmth of his pecs; he sighed under me. His eyes got that slightly unfocused quality to them and I knew he was no longer really watching me. He'd entered another world.

His large biceps had been begging for my hands to work them over and I'm not sure, but I think they were pretty happy with the attention I paid them. I took a detour before I moved toward other parts of his body. My mouth had been dying to taste his neck and I decided they should be rewarded for their patience. He kept shifting ever so slightly beneath me but he was such a good boy that he didn't tell me what to do; he was just trying to control how eager he was getting for me to consummate this affair.

I slid easily down his body and began kneading his muscles from his ankles up. My fingers dug lightly into his hard calves and he sighed sweetly for me. By the time I made it to his thighs, I had realized this might have been the first in all our times together when I'd really just had the luxury to touch and caress so many of the parts of his body that turned me on. And, let me just admit here, his strong and well-defined thighs did it for me.

"You like doing this, don't you, Tina?" he asked me and I could hear the mix of tension and pleasure in his deep voice. "Having me at your mercy, I mean."

"It has its advantages."

"So when are you ... oh, yeah, baby, just like that ... gonna show me some mercy?"

"Is that what you want? Really? Mercy?"

His eyes slid half shut as I trailed one slick finger lightly up his cock where it lay proudly against his belly. "Tell me what you're gonna do to me, love."

"I chose this oil special," I said, light voice and dipping my head toward his ear. "Wanna know why?"

He nodded against me and I prodded one of my index fingers into the moist recesses of his mouth, waiting for him to suck it. When he did, I leaned up in time to catch the slow grin of dawning possibilities that came slowly across his face. I sat up and poured a bit more oil on my hands.

"Mmm. Strawberry?" his husky voice asked. "And just what ..."

He stopped in mid thought and his eyes closed as he felt my hands finally, finally begin stroking his cock and balls. His murmuring voice made nonsense noises as my mouth captured first one and then the other nipple. I licked and sucked down his body in the rhythm his voice was setting for me.

"First suck. Then fuck," I muttered against his sac, knowing he couldn't understand me. But he got the message as I took them each in turn into my mouth and tasted the hint of strawberry flavor. It mixed inside me with the scent of his muskiness. An interesting combination.

Tongue. His cock. Light teeth just to hear him squeak and then growl a warning to me. Full out sucking kisses along his length. Listening to him beginning to reach the edge of desperation.

Mouth. Capturing him. In and out. Sucking hard then nearly not at all when he was so close. Feeling the tension, the expectation, the release he needed. But not giving it to him. Not yet.

Not until he begged for it.

"Ah. Goddammit, Tina! Let my arms go, baby, I need to ..." frustration and want cracking his voice.

"Which option: suck or fuck?" I asked, harsh voice and straddling his knees, my hand stroking him soft and easy.

Huge groan. His eyes shifted into focus and he looked hard at me. "Suck," he grunted out. "But I want my arms ..."

Shaking my head, finger on his lips. "Hush, big boy. You have another option here."

He was sweating now. The groan from him was a mix of frustration, want, need and curiosity.

"Toys or just my mouth?"

I bit my tongue at the reaction. His eyes flashed open so wide and his mouth opened. Leaning down swiftly, I took advantage of the invitation and we traded tongues so obscenely. "Tell me about the toys."

"Oh, what a good boy you are," I giggled to him. Went to my case and dragged it over to where I could pull things out for him to see as I settled back into place atop him. But ... well, I never said I was really that experienced with the exotics, did I? And that inexperience was about to prove my undoing. The first thing I happened to bring out ...

"What is that for?" he asked me in the huskiest of voices.

Tried not to blush as I dove back into the case. Searching, searching ... Gave up and faced him. "I lost the instructions. They were in here but ..."

He started laughing so hard he nearly bucked me off him. "Instructions? Tina? C'mon, baby, if you need instructions ... Do you even know what it is?"

"Well, sure. It's a ... what I mean to say is that it's used for ... um ... Crap, Josh, that's why I had the instructions for this stuff."

"Oh, this is priceless, Tina. Some bad girl. You need instructions for sex toys."

I ground myself hard against his cock, which elicited the heartfelt and pained groan I wanted it to. "Listen up, big boy. I don't need sex toys to drive you crazy, so ..."

"You're absolutely correct, Tina," he interrupted, his voice the fuck-me thing again. "Everything about you drives me crazy with want. Do you have any idea what you do for me? Sometimes all I have to do is think about the way you smell and know I could come without even touching my dick. And most of the time I'm making love with you, I just know it'll never be enough. That no matter how many times I make you come for me, I want just one more. Just one more."

Huge gulp. Felt myself gush below. Our eyes locked. We were panting in unison. He strained at the cuffs and I jumped down into his lips. His hips were pushing against me, his cock trying to find entry into me below. When I could think again, I pushed my hands down onto his hips to regain control of him.

This time, while I took time to torture him because I truly believed, despite his whimpering protests, that he needed me to do this, I was determined to make this a blow job that would make this whole night worth it for both of us.

He calmed instantly when he saw me open my mouth. Sighed to me as I neared the nearly purple head and then hissed when I simply took my tongue and pressed in hard, circling around under the ridge. Cooing to him about how good he tasted and then licking him like he was an all-day sucker. Attention to the details, refusing to let his cursing growls speed me up, careful to let up on the suction when I'd feel his thighs tense and knew he was so close.

Finally unable to control how what was happening between us was affecting me.

"Wanna come, Josh?" Was that my voice, so hoarse, so unlike me to taunt him this way? I wouldn't even look at him. When he didn't answer, I sucked in along the length of him, pulling hard against his heavy vein.

Through his teeth, as much control as he had in him, gritting out the words: "Yeah. I wanna come. Please, baby. Just let me come."

A pause. Just to make him sweat one more drop. My mouth back over him, my tongue joining in the caressing, sucking, bobbing ... swallowing him as deeply as I could. Before long, feeling his thighs go rigid and inviting his hard thrusting into my throat. My finger seeking a spot that would set him free.

He came yelling my name and cursing so loud that someone in one of the rooms next to us called the front desk to complain. Thankfully the phone call asking us to keep the noise down didn't come until after I'd mostly recovered the ability to breathe evenly again.

I put the receiver back in its cradle and smirked into his half-closed eyes and he gave me this shaky grin of contrition. I swept the bag off the bed, found the key to the cuffs and undid his arms. Rubbed his wrists with lotion and cooed over him until he simply nestled into the bed. Then I settled in next to him; in his half-there state, he pulled me into his chest and smothered me in his arms and legs.

Like being in the grip of a force of nature. He never said a word to me; I kept waiting, expecting it, something, anything. And, truly, waiting for him to touch me ... deep in the recesses of my own lust, wondering just how he might re-assert himself in the sexual dynamics between us. But he had slipped away into sleep. I had no other choice but to relax into his grip and find the way into my own wet, frustrated dream state.

Came awake slowly. Surprised to be face down in the mattress. Eyes mostly shut, stretching ever so slightly, wondering why I'd woken when I had ... And then felt it.

Or rather, him. His hand was smoothing under me, reaching around my hips and down, nudging the nest of curls atop my mons. I barely had time to register that his fingers were playing with me when he realized I was awake.

His tongue licked my nape, sending tingling sensations down my spine. His body draped itself over my back. His thighs were between mine. "Open sesame," he whispered in his sex voice.

Pushing into me; not fast but not particularly slow, either. And I was quickly overwhelmed by him. His mouth sucking at my shoulders and neck while one hand held a breast. His other hand insistent that my clit would respond with enthusiasm. And his cock began driving into me as his body pressed me into his hand and the bed.

I was coming. In a lightning round of wetness, sparks and muffled cries. Not even really able to say I was fully awake until I was gasping in the aftermath and trying to reorganize my thoughts. But he was even then pulling me to my knees, grunting in his urgency to increase the rhythm and the power of his thrusting.

Bracing my hands on the headboard, I pushed back against him and felt that arch in my back that tells me he can fuck me all day long in this position.

It felt like he might fuck me forever. Just going and going. In and out. Slick, wet noises and then the slaps of him against me. I came again. But he was still pounding away at me and despite my cries of release, I was still coming. One of those rapid-fire sessions where something magical happens between you, and he hits the right places and you're reeling from the way it makes you feel in bliss.

"Just one more," he was muttering. "One more, baby. For me. Please."

And then he was coming into me with a strangled cry. His head falling on my back and his arms circling my waist as we both gasped at the feel of his cock's spasms inside me.

I got this instant flash, straight out of nowhere, a blast from the past. Our first time together. In those intimate moments after. Next to him, still breathless but breathing like life had been restored. His face snuggled up into the curve of my neck, lips lazy on the skin just below my ear, his hand cupping my breast like they had been made for each other, his leg angled over mine. On my back, my face turned from him. On his front, his body half atop me. Both drowsy with post-sex withdrawal symptoms.

"Tell me what you like," he had said. I felt his words in places in my body he should never have been able to touch yet. "Talk me through it."

His hand had moved down my body. Then, knuckles glancing softly over my warm, slick mons. The hair there had seemed to stand up and salute. And, almost too casually, those knuckles came to rest. Just atop my bud. My still celebrating bud. I let out this sleepy-soft moan; it escaped from deep within me.

"What makes you feel good, love? When we make love again, what will make you come fast and hard? What makes you come slow and deep? What makes you scream?" His voice had been so hoarse from sex. It was like he was still making love to me.

I wouldn't see him for two weeks after that first night. And it was all because of that post-coital conversation that made me itch each and every time I heard it play in my brain. Dodging him until he had dialed it back to casual again.

And it came to me in that moment - like this revelation. It wasn't casual anymore. Now we had trust between us. Mixed in with the fun and the it's-so-easy-with-you.

We both knew. What it took to make the other come fast and hard. What it took for each of us to come slow and deep. And what we could do to make the other scream.