College Girls Take On Developersbymsgrant67©
He would not approve it. He was firm with the company policy that I had to have my job first. Certainly this was a reasonable policy, but I could usually get guys to do things for me. I could tell right then that he would be difficult.
I thanked him for his time and told him that I was leaving town tomorrow at noon sharp and asked him if he knew of any fun clubs in the area that I and my friends could go to on our last night.
"I mean it is our Spring Break, and we have not gotten wild yet," I added.
Not surprisingly, he suggested a club about 30 minutes outside of town. (Probably far enough away to be off of his wife's radar) And he said that he goes there sometimes. He says that he'll buy me some drinks if I meet him there at 8:00.
I literally laugh at him. "Mr. Eisen, I think you're out of touch with my age group. We don't usually hit clubs until 10:00 or 11:00."
He appeared to be ashamed; he glanced down and started to speak, but I leaned in and whispered first.
"I'm sorry. Did I say something that hurt? I tell you what; you get there when you want, and if you're still there when we get there, you and I will drink and dance and I'll catch you up on college style partying. How's that sound?"
He tried to answer nonchalantly, "I'll try to stick around."
But I knew he would be there; I could see that he had a tent in his crotch that would demand he show.
As he returned to a full day of work, I went home and took a long nap. I needed to be rested for the evening.
Around ten that evening, I woke up, and got ready. I was dressed in my favorite club dress. Actually, a mini-dress, it was blue with sequins, practically backless and barely came down to my mid-thighs. I styled my long blonde hair so that it gently flowed beneath my shoulders and prepared my make-up in such a way that it looked more like I was going to a modeling audition than to a club. I would probably be a bit later than eleven getting there, but I had faith that he would still be there.
I entered the club around 11:30 and immediately had the attention of everyone there, at least everyone with a Y chromosome.
I joined Stan at the bar. "Sorry I'm late; were you waiting for me?"
"Not really, I'm just hanging out," he said, trying to play it cool.
I leaned into his ear, lightly brushing it with my lips, "Liar," I playfully whisper.
He does not move until I pull away, clearly wanting to prolong the touch.
The bartender meanwhile asks what I'll have.
"A glass of champagne," I answer, "In fact bring a bottle, the two of us will finish it."
Stan looks down at his nearly empty bourbon and coke, certainly not his first, and then back at me. I can tell that he wants to back out on sharing the bottle, but I know he won't say anything. Not after the way I laughed at him in his office.
As the bottle arrives, two glasses are poured. I lean into him and ask softly, "Do you know why I love champagne?"
As he shakes his head, I pick up my glass and let a few drops fall onto my lips. He is enthralled by my lips and loves my playful tongue. I push my lips into his letting the bubbles of the champagne dance on his lips.
"Doesn't that feel great, Stan?" It was the first time I use his first name, but he does not notice.
"Let's go someplace else," he says. "Maybe get a room."
Apparently he lacks tact. It is okay though; I can handle this. "We will Stan, but not yet, I just got here."
I spend the next few hours dancing with him (of course rubbing up against him when it is not obvious) as well as teasing him by giving him peeks and almost-peeks of my boobs, lingerie and legs. I have him rubbing my feet and legs because they are allegedly sore, really though I just want him gettting excited by rubbing his hands on my stockings. At one point I nestle into his neck pressing my boobs into him because I am acting so tired.
Through all of this, he gets flattering praise when he does something I like, "Oh Stan, you have the best hands ever. A little lower please." And "Stan, you are amazing to finish that whole glass of champagne."
But when he does not please me he gets teased or reprimanded, "Come on, Stan, can't you keep up with me?" and "Stan, I should just go find a younger guy if you are already anxious to leave." This combination keeps him at my side and attentive all evening.
In reality, he himself has finished off nearly two bottles of champagne. While I slowly sip just one glass from each bottle, whenever his glass gets low, I playfully distract him while refilling his glass. He has no idea that I am 100% sober and that he is completely hammered. Finally at 3:00 in the morning the club closes, and we have to leave. I tell him that I will drive us to a hotel. He has his arm around my waist, and I have my hand rubbing his package. He is so hard, so drunk and so horny that I could lead him anywhere, and he would follow.
I drive to a Holiday Inn on the other side of town. We arrive about 4:00, and I must admit that it has been incredibly difficult keeping him awake for the nearly hour drive. I only manage by constantly playing with his cock and aggressively kissing him at Stop signs and red lights. I tell him that we will go in, get a room, get wild and freaky, then catch a couple of hours of sleep, and I will then drive him back to his car.
At the front desk as we are checking in, I make sure to request a room that will be quiet, and I make sure that the morning maid service is cancelled since we will be sleeping in. Stan is paying no attention to my conversation with the clerk, as he is filling out the paperwork while I keep my hand on his crotch- just out of sight of the clerk. Stan does not even know that I have instructed the clerk to charge Stan for two nights.
In a matter of minutes we get to our room and I gently ease Stan onto the bed. I do not want to have sex with this guy, but I know that I must give him some relief or else he will never settle down. I lift my dress, revealing my stockings, garters and a garter belt. He clearly likes what he sees and starts to unbutton his shirt. I am still rubbing his cock, through his pants, but now I unfasten his belt, unhook his pants and then pull his zipper down. My fingers free his cock from his boxers and take a nice, firm grip around it.
I slowly start stroking it as I lean into his ear, licking it and teasing softly, "Come on Stan baby, come on. Oh my God, your cock is sooo big, so wide, so firm. It's just perfect, baby." He settles in and relaxes fully on the bed. He has even stopped his undressing process; he just wants to enjoy this.
I speed up my strokes, now utilizing his pre-cum as a lubricant and continue, "Can you cum for me, baby? I bet you can, big boy."
I am now moving my hand at full speed as he starts shooting. I milk him fully dry and then sit back up.
"Oh baby, you came so much." I say. I sense that he is considering getting dressed, and I worry that he may have actually sobered up during our long drive over here.
I stand and say, "Baby, you can go again can't you? I am still very, very horny."
As I am speaking, I let the straps on my dress fall off my shoulders, and then I let the dress slip to the floor. At the very least his view of my lacy brand panties plus the garter belt and stockings get him back focused on me and nothing else.
I lean towards him, exaggeratingly licking my lips slowly while taking his cock back into my hand. "Ooh yeah, I knew you could do this; I just knew it, baby; it is already getting hard again."
I was practically acting giddy as his cock did show a tad bit of life.
"Let me grab one of my Viagra; then I can go, honey." He said as he started to stand, but I did not want that.
"I will get it for you baby; you just sit there and relax. Are they in your pants, Stan?" I innocently asked as I finally finish pulling his pants off of his body. I drop them to the floor, out of his site.
He nodded, and I smiled and repeated, "I will get it for you baby; you just stay right there and let Brittany take care of you."
I turned away from him and bent over, giving him a direct view of my ass, and I reached down, not into his pants pocket, but into my purse for a blue pill. I stood up and walked over to the sink and poured a glass of water. I then went and dropped the pill in Stan's mouth and watched him drink the water and swallow the pill.
I returned to him on the bed and spoke, "Let's just lie here for a few minutes until that pill takes affect baby."
I gently pulled him to me and began gently stroking his hair as he snuggled in.
Within just a few minutes he was fast asleep. His breathing was getting deeper and regular as I eased away and stood up quietly. I got dressed and then gently removed all of Stan's clothing. I put him into the bed and tucked him snugly into the bed.
I then completed my plan. I set both his watch and the hotel room clock back four hours. I unplugged the hotel telephone and turned his cellular phone off. I created a lipstick smudge on his shirt, and, just for fun, on his boxer shorts. I took all of his belongings out of his pockets and hid them around the room, his car keys under the bed, his wallet and phone in a drawer, and his clothes in the closet.
I then wrote a note to him to leave next to the bed.
"Stan, sorry to leave you, baby, but I have to go, and you just won't wake up! Thanks for a great night! I'm really glad we hooked up. - Brittany"
I then slip quietly out of the room, leaving the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door, and drive back to Chelsea's house.
On the way back, I reviewed my plan in my mind. I had decided when I could not get him to approve my car loan that I would not have much success convincing him to change his vote on the park, so I took an indirect approach. I kept him up until nearly 5:00 in the morning following a full work day for him and made sure that he had mixed liquor and champagne to excess.
Finally, I had slipped him a Tylenol P.M. sleeping pill in place of a Viagra. (Thank goodness those pills are the same color) These three things should guarantee that he sleeps well into Thursday afternoon. With his cell phone turned off, the hotel phone unplugged, the hotel maid being instructed to skip the room and a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door, nothing should wake him up prematurely. No one at the hotel would even think to check the room until Friday, since I had made sure that Stan had rented the room for two days.
In the event that he does somehow wake up, my note should delay him realizing that he has been taken advantage of. Additionally, he will be thrown off by the clocks, thinking that he has four additional hours to do whatever he thinks he should, whether that is to get to work, get to his car or get to the meeting where the vote for the park is taking place.
He will find it difficult to do anything though. He will need to shower first. His car is an hour away; his personal items will take some time to gather together, and his clothes have lipstick stains, perfume smells and are wrinkled. He obviously cannot call his wife to bring him clothes and get his car which would be his quickest solution. He will need a taxi or a friend to come pick him up in order to get to his car. He will then need to stop at a store and buy new clothes.
In short, there is no chance of him making the noon meeting to vote for the park project.
Chapter 4: Samantha's Story
Just as I returned to Chelsea's home, Samantha was preparing for her day. It was the last step in saving the park and she totally looked ready for the challenge. She was wearing a crisp, short business suit, with immaculate make-up and gorgeous brown hair. "Corporate Sexy," we call it. Her plan was to get to Brian Sullivan's office at 8:00 sharp and hopefully get in to see him. Samantha thought that this would probably be the most difficult part of the plan; she was completely confident that if she could just meet him, she could get what she wanted.
She arrived at his office and found that there was a secretary placed in the foyer of the office. She walked in and noticed a disapproving look from the older woman. We were in the South after all, and some still believe that women should not dress the way that Samantha was dressed.
In a very direct manner, Sam stated, "Samantha Locke, here for Brian Sullivan, please."
The secretary practically hissed, "And do you have an appointment?" as she started looking at an appointment book on her desk.
"Not one that he would put in writing, I'm afraid; it is of a personal nature." Sam had the secretary perplexed as to what to do.
Without waiting for a reply, Samantha retreated to a sofa in the waiting room and sat down.
Meanwhile the secretary could not help but notice that as all of the employees were arriving for work, the gorgeous brunette was receiving considerable attention. There probably were not that many women in here regularly, since the primary business here was construction, and that was a fairly male dominated profession. A quick decision was made that if this was a private relationship, sordid or otherwise, Mr. Sullivan would certainly not want her presence to become the talk of the office. So she called Sam back to the desk and then escorted her back to Mr. Sullivan's office.
Samantha could see that he was on his telephone, and as the secretary stood with her outside the office, waiting to ask Mr. Sullivan what to do, Samantha decided to take the initiative.
"Thank you very much," she said to the secretary, and before realization even hit her, Samantha had taken the two steps to his office door, slipped inside and pulled the door closed behind her. She knew that if the secretary would not disturb him when he was on the telephone with his door open, she was guaranteed not to disturb a closed door private meeting.
His eyes took her in completely as she settled comfortably into one of his chairs, and he quickly ended his call.
Before he could speak, Samantha started, "Thank you so much for seeing me today, Mr. Sullivan, Truly, I get a little, oh, excited is a good word (she giggled) when a man in such a position of power agrees to see me."
He wanted to find out what the hell was going on, but he liked that he had somehow pleased this beautiful woman and really liked being referred to as "Powerful."
"What can I do for you Miss...?" he paused, waiting for her name.
"Samantha," she filled in.
"Samantha," he finished, "And you call me Brian."
"I was hoping you could give me a little summary of the proposed Ridge Ferry Development. I am taking a landscape management course in college and am doing a paper on redevelopment," she said.
"Oh, fine, fine, yes. Of course," He began explaining the project while Samantha slowly moved around in her chair.
Samantha would lean over to her briefcase, pulling out a pen and notepad, cross her legs one way or another, playfully pull her pen in and out of her blouse, and just once, her mouth.
She could tell that she had his complete attention because she would smile at points, mainly when he would discuss big money that he could make, and she would frown at points or give a quick, puzzled look. Whatever her look was, he would play to. Puzzled, he would slow down and explain. Excited, he would keep going giving more and more examples.
At one point, he stated that he had to use "Political games" to get approval and Samantha raised her eyebrows.
"What?" he asked her, "I can see that you are thinking about something."
"Oh nothing really, Brian, I was just thinking that I like playing games, too," was her reply.
When he finished, Samantha stood and thanked him profusely, praising his initiative and money-making ability.
Desperate to keep the conversation going, he picked up his business card and handed it to her. "Take this please, and feel free to call me."
She moved closer and took the card, "Do you want me to call you, Brian?"
"Well," he stammered, "I mean, if you have any more questions or anything."
"Oh, I see," Samantha purred, "Is that really what you mean?" she paused for a second then added, "Brian, I do not think that is what you meant."
He was searching for words, giving her a moment to encourage him further, "Brian, if you have something to say, I would really love to hear it."
He then found the courage to say, "I would like to see you again. Can we have dinner tonight?"
Samantha grinned sweetly at him, and he began to smile as well, but then Samantha frowned and replied, "I am very sorry Brian; I would love that, but I am leaving today at noon."
He was dejected and almost slumping, when Samantha seized control, "But, Brian, I am free until then."
He is probably trying to think of something to suggest that they can do when Samantha tells him that she has not yet checked out of her hotel room. She suggests returning there and ordering a room service brunch. He happily agrees, and they are off to the hotel room that Samantha prepped the night before.
They enter her room, and Samantha says that she will "freshen up" and instructs him to order something from room service, maybe a cheese and fruit tray and some wine, just not too much because her credit card in near its limit. He smiles to himself remembering his days in college and not having much money. The room is set up with an office at one end, a computer, printer and fax machine, but he thinks nothing of it. "That's okay, I will get it," he responds.
He pulls out his own credit card and promptly orders and pays for the items that she suggested.
As she comes back into the main room, she looks the same, but comes straight over and starts to kiss Brian.
"Just remember, I have got to be out of this room by noon," she reminded him.
"We will be; I have a meeting that I need to be at as well," he answered.
Before long, room service knocked at the door, and Samantha asked if Brian would answer it since she thought she might look disheveled. She, of course, looked perfect, but Brian did not care; he went to the door and retrieved the items and even left a nice tip.
He returned and Samantha playfully grabbed a strawberry from the tray and ate it. "Hmmm," she said, "Yummy." Her eyes danced with delight.
She took the tray from his hands, set it down, and then took his hands in hers and led him to the bed.
"Let's play a game, Brian, okay?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" he responded. His face was puzzled as this was something new to him.
"Oh, I kind of have to show you, but do not worry, there is no pain or anything like that. And I promise you a morning that you will never forget." As she spoke she let him relax on the bed and moved on top of him, kissing him fully, letting her tongue dance in his mouth.
Without waiting for an answer, she took his hands and moved them on to her chest, letting him feel the full 21 year old 36 C's for the first time. She still had her suit on, but he could already feel that these boobs were something special. He did not even notice when, as she kissed him, she gently guided his hands above his head near the bed frame. His moment of calm was broken and his eyes popped open when he heard two quick clicks and realized that his hands were now handcuffed to the bed.
"What the hell?" he said, "Let my hands go."
"No, baby that's not the game," she sympathetically looked at him as he struggled with the handcuffs.
Frustrated, he asked, "Well, what is the game?"
She smiled again and moved back against him. "It is simple really; you do things that please me and you are rewarded. You do things that do not please me and you are punished."
"What types of things?" he asked.
"Oh, big things, small things, we'll think of some things baby," she leaned in and began kissing his neck as she continued, "But there are a few rules. First, no more raising your voice or cursing. Second, I promise that I will not hurt you or lie to you, okay? But you have to promise the same."