IPN – WTGP?

The majority of this story was written before Hurricane Katrina devastated the Big Easy. Even having seen pictures, I cannot imagine the destruction a storm of that magnitude could cause. The hotel in the story was one of New Orleans’ finest. . . I do not know if it was damaged in the hurricane or not.

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He said his name was Garrett. She had never seen him "in real life" or IRL, as it was called in chat. She had seen pictures of him, the ones he sent her by e-mail and webcam shots while they were on instant messenger together. At least, she had seen parts of him, but not as someone might expect to see pictures of a person one had been talking, or rather chatting to, for over a year. The parts of him that she had seen were quite impressive. She knew he had dark hair, and he had told her he had a beard. But Lisenne had never seen a headshot of him. He had even granted her wish to watch him cum for her on the cam, and knew she wanted to feel his cock pounding her pussy, cumming deep inside her. He knew some of her most private fantasies. But he steadfastly refused to let her see him above his waist.

She had never heard his voice either. She had only "heard" the words he had written. They were quite impressive, too. The words he wrote made her nipples hard and her pussy juices run. They had been engaged in an erotic correspondence for most of the time they had been chatting. It was he who suggested meeting IRL.

They lived far enough apart to consider meeting halfway. At least, he had told her he lived in St. Louis and she had no real reason to believe that wasn't true. She lived in Dallas. She had several things to consider about an in person meeting. Most important was safety. She had been online for years, chatting with people and had heard the horror stories, but thankfully, had never experienced one. But then, given the number of people she had chatted with online, she had met relatively few in person. She had always taken the necessary precautions – she had her own transportation, her own cell phone and her own money. Someone, usually her closest girlfriend, knew where she was going.

This meeting, if she decided to go, would be different. What he proposed was meeting in a city close enough for each of them to comfortably drive. They would stay at a luxury hotel, in separate rooms. He had offered to pay for both rooms, as well as meals for the weekend – a thoughtful and gallant offer, she granted, but not one she would accept if she went. She always paid her own way.

Then, there was always chemistry. She was well aware that the sexual attraction they had online might evaporate when they met face to face. Some people were less inhibited online than in real life. She had met two – one male and the other female – who seemed like mere shells of their online personae in person.

He didn't know what she looked like either – well, at least how she would look in public. She had asked him about that in an e-mail. . . how would they recognize each other when they met in the bar before dinner the first night? Did he want to trade pictures? He said no, which came as a surprise to her, since he had been quite eager to see pics and webcam shots of her for several months, telling her in erotic e-mails how he masturbated to her pics and relating details about the ways he wanted to fuck her. He wanted instead for her to wear a flower in her hair. He would approach her in the hotel bar. She wasn't sure she wanted to give him that much control.

There was no other man for her to consider when making the decision, and he had assured her he was not married or living with someone. She had tried to make it clear in her initial hesitation to meet that she did not want to complicate her life. He replied that he understood completely, and she could be assured there would be no nasty confrontations during or after their meeting. She knew she needed to give him an answer soon.

She rose from the computer chair and opened the door to the patio. The day was beautiful – sunny, with a slight breeze that brought the fragrance of the antique roses she grew wafting into the room. She stepped out onto the patio and picked up her pruners. There was only a momentary pause before she made her choice from the climber at the end of the patio. The cerise pink of the Zephirine Drouhin tucked behind her ear would look striking against her dark hair, she mused as she clipped a bloom from a draping branch. Lisenne's bemused smile gave way to a wicked grin. _______________________________________________ In the end, she had chosen their destination city. The landing was a smooth one, the wheels on the landing gear making the customary squeaks on the runway that signaled the end of a safe journey. She looked out her window, and saw the heat shimmering up from the tarmac. New Orleans in late June was hot, humid and oppressive by day, and deliciously decadent by night.

She deplaned and headed straight for the rental car booth. She had decided to fly to save time, and rent a car for ground transportation. The car was ready and full of fuel. Since she hadn't checked baggage, it took less than a half an hour before she was headed to the hotel.

The Maison Dupuy was one of the French Quarter's finest old hotels, just two blocks from Bourbon Street. Although it had been a while since she had stayed there, she had been a guest frequently enough to earn some extra courtesy and consideration from the hotel staff. Check in was brief and efficient, and she went to her room to settle in.

Lisenne had requested a king room with a balcony, and was delighted with the room. The scent of the potted rose she had ordered rushed in at her as she flung the doors to the balcony open and stepped into the relative privacy afforded by the tops of the courtyard trees which overhung the balcony rail. Seated at the small table, she could hear the cascade of water in the courtyard fountain, and idly caressed her stiffening nipples through her silk blouse as she closed her eyes to imagine that sound coming in through open doors while she slowly fucked her new lover.

She reluctantly got up and went to the wardrobe to see if her other deliveries had arrived. Ah yes, Chantelle had come through again – the long black dress (Chantelle had called it a gown) was hanging on a padded hanger, and her shoes, strappy little sandals with three inch heels, were there, as was a red silk kimono and the outfit she'd wear to fly back to Dallas. Just as promised. She'd have ample room to pack the few items of clothing in her satchel, and avoid baggage claim on her return flight.

Lisenne was equally sure her swimsuit would be in one of the bureau drawers. Looking at the clock on the nightstand by the bed, she saw that she'd have time to get in a few laps and a long hot bath before it was time to meet Garrett. A delicious shiver ran down her spine as she stripped her clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the floor by the bed. ________________________________________________ Lisenne never deliberately made an entrance into a room – it just happened. Many of her friends, men and women, had told her she had an exotic look. Her straight dark hair and high cheekbones spoke of her Native American great grandmother. Her smoky eyes and sensual voice came from her Creole blood. The result was a woman who flowed into a room, and heads turned when she did.

Now, heads turned when she entered the bar in the hotel. She wore a long black dress and nothing else, save the pink rose tucked into her long dark hair, and held in place with a small silver comb, and her shoes. The black gown clung to every curve of her voluptuous body, and her evening bag was only slightly larger than her hand. Her scent for the evening came from the rose, and as she passed the other patrons on her way to a table in semi-seclusion, she left a delicately sweet aroma in her wake.

She was a few minutes early on purpose. Part of it was just her nature – she arrived early for every assignation. Part of it was playing a game with herself. . . she wanted to see if she would spot him first. She had chosen a small table for two, at the back of the bar, not far from the French doors that opened out onto the courtyard. They were closed now, to keep out the sultry humidity of the still oppressively hot night. The bar was dim, and cool enough to cause her nipples to harden into stiff peaks, adding to the sexual tension she'd been feeling since the plane touched down on the runway. As she sat down at the table, her dark eyes lazily scanned the bar, even though she hadn't a clue if Garrett was already there. None of the three unaccompanied men returned her gaze. She hoped he would be on time – they had agreed on 8:00 p.m. when they had chatted on IM a couple of hours ago.

It seemed odd that even at this stage, he had not wanted to talk on the phone to make their date. She shrugged to herself – perhaps it was just another way he had of staying in control. The server approached, a peach faced young blond woman, probably in her twenties. Maybe a college student, making extra money. The Big Easy was an expensive city for a struggling student, and Lisenne made a mental note to herself to give the girl a generous tip as the young woman took her order for a glass of wine.

Twenty minutes later, she was getting edgy – there was still no sign of Garrett. Her glass was empty, but she didn't want to order another. She had not eaten and she knew more wine would make her lightheaded. Where the hell was he? She waited another fifteen minutes, and when she was asked if she wanted another glass of wine, she said no.

Her server was very efficient. She went immediately to the desk and came back with Phillip, the concierge. Lisenne dropped her customary tip in his pocket as she stood and clasped his hand. "I'd like to know if there is a male guest whose first name is Garrett."

If he was surprised at her request, Phillip did not show it. "I see. Please wait just a moment." He went through a door next to the bar, returning briefly. "No, madam, I'm afraid we have no guest by that name. May I be of some assistance to you?"

There was no guarantee his name really was Garrett. Her temper beginning to rise, Lisenne's eyes scanned the bar again as she addressed Phillip, trying to keep her voice even. "No, thank you, Phillip. You've been most helpful. Please ask my server to come over as you leave."

As she had planned, Lisenne paid her server well. The girl's eyes got huge as she looked at the bills Lisenne placed in her hand, and she was barely able to stammer out her "thank you" as Lisenne quickly left the bar. It wasn't till she reached the elevator that she permitted herself to lose some of the tight control she had maintained. She angrily jabbed the button for her floor, seething inside. That bastard had stood her up. She got on the elevator and went to her room.

Flinging the doors of the balcony open, Lisenne stepped out and went to the rail, gulping in the moist, warm night air and feeling the heat hit her body like a wall. The sexy little shoes were killing her feet and she kicked them off as she clung to the balcony rail with both hands, not caring that one was lost to the courtyard below. How dare he? This was all his idea. He had humiliated her.

The humidity of the night made her hair cling to her back, and she reached with both hands to catch it and sweep the thick mane over one shoulder. So focused was she on her anger at Garrett, she didn't notice the figure come out of the shadowed corner of the balcony. With her hands already up and behind her head, she was an easy mark. Her peripheral vision caught the movement of his hand as it came up toward her face. With his other hand, he easily captured her wrists and held them behind her head. She only had time to gasp in terror when he put the cloth to her face, covering her nose and mouth. ________________________________________________ She awoke sometime later in the darkened room, lit only by candles. Everything was out of focus, and she started to sit up on the bed. She could only get her head a few inches off the pillow, and she began to struggle. It was then she realized her hands were restrained by leather straps fastened to the posts at the head of the bed. Out of the shadows came a voice. "Good evening, ma douce chérie. You are most beautiful tonight." He sat on the bed, nude and facing her, and reached over to stroke her belly. She jerked away as best she could, and he laughed. "Surely you don't think you will get away that easily." He grabbed her hip and forced her body back down on the bed. Lisenne stared at him, and then opened her mouth to scream.

Quicker than she would have thought humanly possible, Lisenne's attacker gripped her mouth with one hand and straddled her body. "You will scream when I am ready for you to scream, chérie. Until then, you may moan. Do not make me gag you. I had plans for your lips and mouth also."

Lisenne stared up at him. Although it was dark, she could see the seriousness in his face, and his legs felt powerful against her sides. He spoke with a Creole accent and she could make out dark, wavy hair above his deep brown eyes. His moustache and goatee were closely trimmed and gave him a menacing look. He wore a silver chain around his neck that glinted in the candlelight above a small scar just below his throat. She took in every detail she could see - she would need to be able to describe him later to the authorities. She relaxed a little and he loosened his grip on her mouth. "Does this mean you'll give up your little plan to get away?"

She nodded under his hand and he slowly lifted it from her mouth. "What about the straps? Shall I loosen them, or take them off altogether?" Lisenne stayed completely still, only her voice trembling as she asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"A woman like you should never have to drink or spend an evening alone, chérie. I watched you in the bar, and it seemed that you were looking for company. You looked so distressed as you left. So in a way, I have come to rescue you." His hands were busy above her head, undoing the leather restraints that bound each hand, and he removed the comb and flower from her hair. As he leaned over her, she couldn't help but notice that his cock was erect and pulsing. Her thoughts came rapidly, one on top of the other, as she made the decision not to fight him and risk getting hurt – or worse. She could endure anything for a while. Maybe he would cum quickly and it would be over.

With the straps undone, he sat back on his knees, still straddling her body and smiled slowly as he looked down at her. Then, without warning, he grabbed the top of her gown and tore it straight down the front to the top of her public hair. She jumped and closed her eyes as he took her face in both hands, running his thumb across her lips before caressing her neck and bare shoulders. He went further still, tweaking her nipples with his fingers. Although her mind was determined not to cooperate, Lisenne's body responded to the roughness of his fingers, her nipples hardening under his touch, even as she tried to lie limp beneath him. He rolled them between his fingers and she gasped out loud. He bent to take her right nipple in his mouth, his tongue warm and wet as he first sucked, then lightly bit her nipple. Lisenne tried to ignore the electric shocks racing through her breasts, and into her belly. She was mortified to hear herself moan.

Urged on by her moan, he played rougher with her breasts, squeezing them and licking and biting each nipple alternately. She felt his rigid cock graze her thigh and realized she had parted her legs as he mauled her breasts. He got on his knees and moved further back, releasing his hold on her legs with his, as he grabbed what remained of her gown and ripped it open. She was totally nude before him, the gown in tattered shreds under her. He moved one of his legs so he could part her legs with one hand as he reached for the lips of her pussy with the other. She kicked at him with her free leg, hissing, "No! Don't do this."

With incredible speed and force, he flipped her over on her belly. Lisenne's hands were under her body and the man took the opportunity, leaning on her back with his chest to hold her down. His fingers probed insistently between her thighs, parting them to find her pussy slick with her own juices. He rubbed her throbbing clit before sliding two fingers in her wet cunt, expertly finding her G spot. He continued to slide his thumb up, and teased her puckered hole as he fucked her pussy with his fingers.

Lisenne's ass arched upward, giving him even more access to her pussy and ass. He moved in behind her and put both hands on her hips, pulling her to her knees. She could feel the head of his cock, slick with precum as he stroked it between the cheeks of her ass. He put the head of his cock at her opening, rubbing up and down her slit, until she exploded in a rush of electric sensations, wave after incredible wave radiating deep into her belly. Panting and moaning, she tried to push herself up on her arms, but he couldn't wait any longer. In one long stroke, he buried his cock in her pussy, and the suddenness made her gasp and jump forward.

He grabbed her hair with one hand and one hip with the other, holding her still as he drove his shaft further inside her. The tight, wet heat of her wrapped around his manhood like a warm glove and he fucked her deep and hard, grunting with every stroke. She felt his cock get harder, his balls slapping her still sensitive clit as he rammed his cock in out and faster. He pounded her mercilessly, and the sensations washed over her, taking her over the top. She was cumming, her pussy muscles contracting on his rigid shaft as she screamed her pleasure.

He began cumming as soon as he felt the walls of her pussy milking his cock, shooting jets of hot juice deep into her cunt. His throaty moans mingled with her cries of delight and he continued to stroke as long as he could before he stopped, pulling her close to him as he rolled onto his side with his cock still twitching, buried in her velvet depth. ________________________________________________ Lisenne was awakened by the shrill ringing of the telephone. She fumbled for it, dropping the receiver twice before getting it to her ear. "Wake-up call, madam, as you requested."

"Oh, yes, thank you," she mumbled back to the disembodied and much too cheerful voice. Lisenne sat up in the bed, and looked around the room. She was alone, no doubt about that. She felt hung-over, even though she had only one glass of wine. She tossed the bedcovers aside and got up to survey the room. There was no sign that anyone else had been there. She looked for the remains of her gown – in the tangle of bedclothes, under the bed, and all around it. She checked the wastebasket. Nothing. She supposed her uninvited guest had taken it as a souvenir – she heard that men like that did such things.

Just two and a half hours remained till she boarded her plane back to Dallas. She took a shower, and as she washed her breasts and pussy, she felt slightly tender. Mixed feelings of lust and embarrassment came to her as she remembered how she had let a stranger use her body, and that she had liked it. She finished off the shower with an icy blast, toweled dry and went to get dressed.

Opening the wardrobe, she was shocked to see her black gown hanging there – all in one piece, and completely unharmed. She snatched it off the padded hanger and examined it. It seemed to be the same gown she'd worn last night. As she finished getting ready and packed her satchel, she could only find one shoe. That was odd, but then this whole damned trip had been odd. She felt remnants of her anger toward Garrett rising, then decided not to waste the emotional energy. He was history.