tagLesbian SexHotel Sapphira

Hotel Sapphira

byjulie_julia©

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Originally a collaboration (thank you Gianna and Susie for your ideas), then developed to suit the 'needs' of an extremely sexual and sensual friend. I hope you like the finished article. Read it slowly and enjoy yourself.

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My work in recruitment had recently exploded and taken on an international dimension, which is how I had come (by a complicated series of seemingly unrelated events) to be in Richmond, Virginia. Far from my home in England and new to the area, the accent, the customs, the people and their closely-woven friendships & inter-relationships.

But here I was in a local bar just around the corner from my hotel, alone and knowing no-one.

The woman seated in the window continually looked across at me as I sat at the counter and sipped at my cold beer. During most of my adult life I'd become accustomed to unwelcome, lascivious stares from men of all ages, but mostly well over my own 40 years. I've had noticeably large boobs since I was 13 and at a firm-and-rounded size 34C they still stand up well to scrutiny (as well as both tender caresses and firm handling). Being 5' 7" tall yet only 130 pounds and with long, naturally-wavy blonde hair I tend to dress less overtly sexy than some women my age to avoid attracting too much attention. But, working in the fashion world, I always need to look smart when I'm away on business. Today I'd been conducting interviews for a household-name British fashion store chain expanding quickly in the US market so I was wearing a demure but stylish and very well cut suit in jet black wool cloth with a subtle sheen.

'She' was somewhat younger yet of a similar height. About 27 I guessed, much slimmer than me and with long straight honey-blond hair and a pretty face. If we had one thing in common, it was probably that we were both thinking "What's an attractive woman like her doing alone in a bar like this". We were both soon to find out.

I decided to play. I shifted on my bar-stool so my skirt rode up my legs a little. She watched me. I sat forward slightly on the front edge of the stool, crossed my sheer-nylon-clad legs and swung my foot rhythmically. She closed her eyelids slightly as she continued to watch me, her narrowing, captivating blue eyes darting up and down as she took in the show I was performing.

Holding my tall, cold glass in one hand, I ran a long manicured fingernail of the other hand up and down it's slender tall shape. I drew patterns in the condensation before stroking the top edge round and around then finally slipping the wet tip of my finger into my mouth and half-licking, half-sucking the moisture from it without ever closing my pouting, well-glossed lips. She lifted her chin slightly and moved her head towards me only a fraction but the message was clear: "I'm interested, what happens next", confirmed by the way she ran her pointed tongue along her top lip then back across her bottom lip in a single continuous and highly sensual movement. She put two fingertips on the side of her chin and rested her elbow on the table. Somehow she managed to take a sip from her cappuccino without moving her hand or diverting her gaze. She left a trace of froth on her top lip, put down the cup and drilled into me with her clear blue eyes.

One of us was going to have to make a move soon and as I always like to seize the advantage, I slipped down off the stool, deliberately dragging my skirt up my legs to expose a glimpse of my stocking tops. Carefully placing one high-heeled shoe in front of the other, I slowly paced the short distance between us carrying my half-full glass in one hand and my Louis Vuitton bag in the other. As I reached the table, I briefly looked at the reflections in the window. Everyone in the bar was watching us but she was watching my every move. I put down my bag on a spare seat and my glass on the table, freeing both hands which I used to sensually smooth down my jacket and skirt.

She made a small movement suggesting she was going to stand up. Why? As a sign of respect? To position herself level with me in both height and status? (I was sure she would be equal to me in both). I lifted a hand to signal 'No' and she stayed sitting.

She opened her mouth to speak but I leaned forward, my jacket lapels parting momentarily. Her eyes left mine for the first time since I had walked into the bar as they darted down to catch a glimpse of my cleavage. I surprised her by putting a slender finger on her lips to stop her from speaking. She took the hint, sat back in her chair and smiled as I sat down opposite her. I struggled to conceal the shiver of pleasure that rushed though me as I mentally ticked off the first hurdle I had just overcome. She had accepted me into her personal space, albeit with a table still between us, and my mind was already onto my next ambition. I knew exactly where I wanted this encounter to lead but the journey was far from certain. But I had a plan, and as they say, any plan is better than no plan.

I looked at her face. Seeing her now at close range she looked even more gorgeous than before. Her eyes were heavily made up with black mascara and edge-lining accented with blue shadow merging into dusky grey at the outer extremities of her lids, fading towards her temples. Her lip-gloss was subtly pink-to-mauve and her cheekbones where gently emphasised with russet. She had a good sense of colour. Only slightly less casually dressed than me, she was wearing a well-cut white satin dress that was tailored into her slim waist and sat tight on her narrow hips. The neck was cut in a deep vee yet it exposed very little breast suggesting she was quite small. The cheeky cap sleeves showed off her arms beautifully and everything was set off perfectly with matching black detailing, belt and accessories and silver jewellery. A woman of style and good taste I thought. A professional woman, a strong woman who knows her mind. Self-confident, with disposable income to spare. Similar to me. I might have a fight on my hands.

The atmosphere was electric and bolts of energy rippled though my body from my brain, via my nipples to my pussy. My plan was taking shape beautifully, and the shape was tall, slim, young, beautiful and sitting opposite me, watched by every pair of eyes in the bar including mine.

You sipped sensually from your cappuccino but I made you spill a little of the hot stimulating liquid when I hooked the toe of my shoe around the back of your ankle, You know how it is when you jump because you are surprised when something happens and even more so when you are anticipating it? Your eyes burned into me as I ran my toe up the back of your calf and back down again. Then up again, a little higher this time. You knew what the clatter was as I kicked off my shoe and repeated the movement using my now bare-but-nylon-stocking-covered toes. I saw you shudder and for the first time I noticed you close your eyes, lift your chin and let out a gentle sigh between parted lips. You also now knew that this was leading somewhere but you did not know where. Well not until I took out a business card and scribbled on the back:

Hotel on corner of Market and West 7th - Cocktail bar - 1 hour. xxx J

I handed you the card, dropped a $20 bill on the table and stood up. You looked up at me coyly with those wonderful blue eyes -- I think a woman looks exceptionally sexy when she looks upwards from under well-groomed eyebrows. You batted your lids in an unspoken acknowledgement and looked down at my card -- I knew you would be there. I could feel the intensity of the atmosphere; the other early evening drinkers watched me as I strode purposefully out of the door into the next stage of my carefully-crafted seduction.

Exactly one hour later I arrived at the front door of the upscale 'Hotel Sapphira', carrying two designer-store carrier bags and hoping I had guessed your size correctly. The doorman recognised me and smiled as I strode purposefully towards the cocktail bar. Well, I was hoping it all had a purpose; I'd have felt totally fucking pissed off if you had not turned up. But I was confident that you would be there. Confidence is something that just comes naturally to me. Positivity brings more positives.

I looked around the bar and sure enough, you were there, perched precariously and provocatively on a tall leopard-skin bar stool ...

The bar was busy with after-work drinkers; some dressed in formal business suits, others in expensive evening cocktail dresses, skimpy tops and skirts, tight trousers and all were very attractive. Even the ones in business suits; as I looked around I realised all of the people in suits were female, all their suits were identical and none of them was wearing anything under her jacket, instead displaying a larger or smaller cleavage. Some wore trousers, others wore short skirts with seamed stockings on show, and all wore very high heels.

In fact, everyone there was female -- not a man in sight and then I realised that even the 'doorman' was a girl, with short black hair and a chiselled, angular face.

One of the other clients was leaning on the bar beside you, looking intently at you and constantly brushing her hair from her face. You did not immediately notice me arrive so I watched from a distance. Your companion seemed very interested in you so I let her gain in confidence for a while, no doubt building up her hopes. She moved her face closer to you and seemed to whisper in your ear.

I seized the moment, strode directly across the floor towards you under the watching eyes of the staff and other drinkers. My heart was beating fast, at least 130, but I was 100% confident of how you would react.

"Hi honey, you look hot, do you want to come up to my room?" I enquired.

As soon as you saw me you smiled at me and replied: "Sure, I don't know your name but I like your approach". The other woman with you looked like she could kill me with at 100 paces with just a stare but I didn't care. I took your hand to steady you as slipped down off the stool.

I led you through the lobby to the front desk where I collected the key-card to my room -- the suited receptionist smiled at us both as I handed her a folded piece of paper. She opened it, read it carefully then slid it into her top pocket, purring: "No problem, Julia."

As soon as the elevator doors closed I took your head gently between my hands and looked at you intently. Neither of us spoke but your expression told me everything I needed to know.

All too soon the doors opened. The (female) bell captain was waiting to show us to the suite. She opened the double doors and I heard you gasp as you walked in.

"So, you like 1920s Art Nouveau style?" I enquired, adding, prophetically, "I love the classic table lamp designs - they always seem to have a beautiful woman in clinging silk draped over her body."

I walked over to the waiting champagne in the ice bucket, wiggling my ass as I walked, pouring two glasses of ice-cold bubbly and passing one to you. We sipped down our champagne, the ice cold liquid made you shiver. I spilled a small drop and it trickled down my chin and in an instant you wiped it away with your fingertip. I held eye contact just long enough to be sure we were connected and that you were ready to give yourself to me. From that short moment we both knew we were committed to much more than just two people who had recently met enjoying a drink together. The difference was, I knew where this was all going to lead and you didn't -- you just had to trust me.

I opened my mouth and you knew what to do. You slipped your still-wet finger between my lips and I sucked the champagne taste into my throat. I gently bit your finger so you could not remove it, symbolising the control I so easily exerted over you. You feigned only a weak attempt to pull away.

I opened my mouth and still you did not remove your finger. I sucked on it again and circled my tongue around its tip. Our eyes met again but this time yours were half closed and your head was tilted slightly back. I looked down at your body; your posture had changed subtly. Your demure little white dress could not conceal that your shoulders were pulled back, thrusting your small breasts towards me; your pelvis was tilted slightly, your feet apart a little. All your body language now said: "Yes, I am ready".

But you did not know quite what it was that you were ready for. You may have thought you knew, but you did not.

I walked across to the far side of the hotel room and turned to face you, aware that you were watching my every move, no doubt looking for signs of what I'd expect you to do next to win me. You were also probably wondering what was underneath my suit jacket, and when (if ever) you would find out.

You started to walk towards me. I lifted my glass slowly to my mouth and took a long sip. You pouted your lips as you strutted, hoping that I might kiss you but you were premature, very much so.

I licked the wine from my lips in one continuous movement of my tongue before I spoke: "Fuck you honey, I'll kiss you when I am ready. Get your ass over to the window, slut." We didn't even know each other's names yet.

"Turn around and face me - let me look at you ..."

I quietly admitted to myself that you were quite an exceptional find. I was pleased with my harvest today.

I flicked on the in-room music system and found something sassy and funky. "OK honey, let's see how slut you are ... Strip for me like your life depends on it."

It's at this point that you were most likely to tell me to fuck off and just leave, yell at me and dial the front desk, or .... My heart was pounding as I waited for your response, even though I had little doubt what it would be.

You started dancing slowly, then running your hands on your breasts, down your hips, and lifting the bottom of your dress just enough so I could not yet tell if you were wearing panties, a thong or nothing at all. So who's the teaser now, eh?

You reached behind and pulled the zipper down your back, turning slowly so I caught glimpses of your bare back. Another question as yet unanswered - do you have a bra on?

Slowly you made your way towards me with the top of your dress seductively falling off your shoulders until you were standing barely 2 feet away from me at which point you finally let the dress fall to your waist. I stifled a gasp when I saw that in fact, no you were not wearing a bra, and more importantly, that you have the most gorgeous pair of small, pert, firm young breasts I could ever have hoped for, with dark puffy areole and firm long nipples sitting high and upwards-pointing. I squeezed my thighs together involuntarily, my pussy twitching under my skirt.

In true stripper-slut style, you turned your back to me and dragged the zipper down the last few inches and let your dress fall in a heap of white fabric on the floor. The tiniest narrowest strand of russet-brown material nestled in your ass-crack between beautiful high, firm, rounded cheeks, statuesquely setting off the tops of your long, bare and muscular legs. Runner's legs I guessed. Finally you turned around to show off your full sensuality, the prize still concealed by a tiny scrap of lace fabric that singularly failed to cover even your rounded outer lips, let alone your smooth shaven mound.

You flinched at the first flash, but then responded as I expected, posing in ever more provocative ways as I photographed your exposed, vulnerable but highly desirable body.

So far so good. My plan was working out perfectly. If only you knew how aroused I was becoming by this erotic and highly controlling scenario. But to reveal my heightened state of sexual excitement would be a sign of weakness and could jeopardise my desired eventual outcome.

I picked up the plate of seafood that I'd had delivered with the champagne and walked towards you. You opened your mouth in obedient expectation and waited for me to feed you with the tasty morsels with their legendary aphrodisiac qualities. Although I could at this point have quite literally had you 'eating out of my hand', instead I placed a shelled crevette between my teeth and, taking hold of your obviously-erect nipples between my fingers and thumbs, pulled you towards me for you to take the pink flesh from me with your own teeth. You tipped your head to one side provocatively but at the crucial moment I pulled back, leaving you disappointed and with fire burning in your eyes. I didn't think this was going to be easy and I was glad you were prepared to put up at least some kind of a fight.

"Fuck you!" you growled under your breath.

"Eventually you will honey, whatever your name is ..."

I felt your nipples harden in my hands.

I laughed and nearly dropped the food but then leaned forward again to allow you to take it. See? I am not so cruel after all!

Holding the plate in one hand, I allowed you to pick up more food with your teeth. How perceptive of you to know I would not allow you to use your hands to feed yourself! But then when I parted my lips, you instinctively knew to pick up an oyster shell with your finely-manicured fingers and tip it's contents into my open mouth.

Swallowing it whole, I licked my lips slowly and sensually, smiled at you and awaited the next salty, slippery, fleshy treat. Again you tipped it into my open mouth but this time I did not swallow it. Instead I pulled on your bare nipples again, dragging you close to me. I leaned forward and engaged your heavily-lipsticked mouth in a long passionate open-mouthed kiss during which I transferred the whole oyster from my own mouth into yours.

I sensed the moment when you swallowed, betrayed by the shudder that ran though your body and your attempts to draw breath, which our long kiss impeded. When I first saw you in the bar earlier that evening I could hardly have dared to hope that you would be so compliant and so well-matched to my needs and expectations.

"You are a good slut!" I acknowledged, and you smiled and nodded in humble acceptance of my compliment. "But you are also a dirty whore, yes?"

"Yes, I am a dirty whore, only for you. I am your filthy slut, my Mistress".

You learn fast.

I led you to the bathroom and ordered you to take a shower.

"Get in the shower and clean up, you dirty bitch. I have plans for us. Come out in 15 minutes and wait for your next instructions."

Of course, you did exactly what I told you, with the nice twist of peeling the tiny thong from your tense body and throwing it at my feet before closing the door to the sumptuous bathroom behind you with a shaking hand.

I cannot know what was going tough your head as you soaped down your slim and firm naked body, no doubt lingering at its most sensitive spots them drying, preening, and applying lotions and creams as you watched yourself in the huge mirrors, preparing yourself for whatever I had planned for you next.

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After what seemed like an eternity to you, you unlocked the bathroom door and walked expectantly into the enormous bedroom. You looked around to see where I was and what I was wearing. Would I still be in the same black suit and silk shirt? Will I have changed into something more adventurous and assertive? Or maybe I will already be totally naked, ready for you to serve me.

No.

None of these.

In fact, I had gone.

I was not there.

I was not anywhere in the room. In fact, the room was immaculate just as the maid might have left it. Not only had I gone, but so had your white dress, your bag, your jewelry and your phone. There was nothing in the room that did not belong to the hotel. Except for you, standing in the middle of the large bedroom, totally naked and totally bewildered.

Frantically you searched the room, looking in all the cupboards. Probably not expecting to find me hiding, but hoping to find some clothes to wear. Anything to cover your nakedness.

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