tagMatureOne White Rose Ch. 01

One White Rose Ch. 01

byFinalStand©

(Thanks to Frontma for the editing. If a mistake was made it was done by me in transition)

(*In passion we see with our hearts not with our eyes*)


My name is Julian Winters and for most of my life I've been an egotistical jerk. I've had reason to be; I have dark good looks that speak of Spanish or maybe Italian descent, with thick black hair and a strong physique that comes with regular physical exercise. I don't have a twelve inch pole vault in my pants but I'm well-endowed (and did I mention egotistical?).

I've always thought of myself as an alpha male kind of guy until two months ago when my girlfriend of four years, Melody Ryan, left screaming at me in the midst of a nasty fight. I, of course, thought she'd be back in a day or two when she blew off some steam, but slowly word filtered back to me through a mutual friend that she was done with me and that was that.

At first I thought she was PMSing, and then I assumed she was cheating on me, and finally I accepted the fact that she was and had always been a closet lesbian so I arranged a confrontation to ring the truth out of her. When the time came She didn't run away or blow up or beg forgiveness;. She sat me down and tore my life apart. She loves me --; she just could no longer live with me. She kissed me, wished me all the best, and walked out of my life again.

I buried myself in a few one- night stands but all I ended up thinking at the end of the night was that I was twenty-eight years old and I was going to be doing the same thing when I was forty- eight if I didn't finds some center to my life. I had to learn how to give a crap for another person. Aand I knew that wasn't going to be easy.

(First Encounter)

Cut two months forward and I'm at a friend and co-worker Sandy Ingles' wedding. He and his wife have been on and off again friends since high school ten years earlier and I had fun telling Sandy he was tossing his freedom away. Somehow this got to the bride and she was less than friendly to me at the reception.

Most of the guests were co-workers of Sandy and his bride with a good sprinkling of family thrown in. I was involved with plenty of the action and was in general having a good time. I got a few looks from some girls that were definite 'maybes' but nothing I was exploring. In a way, I was feeling bored and alone.

Then the Bride's father introduced an old family tradition called the Ghost's Dance. First of all the men are blindfolded on one side of the hall and when the matriarch speaks, the women move across and to take the man they wants to dance with on to the floor and you have your dance. It sounds a bit awkward but it turned out to be a bit fun.

At the conclusion of the dance you are put back where you were found and in ten seconds you take off the blindfold so you don't know who you danced with --. As I said,; fun. Now it was the guy's turn. The girls blindfolded themselves and the guys began scoping out the girl they would dance with. When the patriarch called out several guys raced toward the favorite girl they would normally never dance with but I hung back.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a familiar form, that of my boss Roxanne Ferrier. Roxanne isn't bad to look at, -- she's a bit short --, but her manner is totally grating. She's abrasive, condescending, and often degrading. By the looks of things she'd already worked her magic on the gathering. Only peer pressure had made Sandy invite her in the first place.

I also realized that no one was angling toward her either to be her dance partner and somewhere in my deep, dark heart I felt I understood what it must be like to be sitting there in the dark and being forced to wait alone on the sidelines for the music to end to take off your blindfold. I found my feet leading me in her direction. Roxanne jumped when I put a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry," I whispered in her ear, "I had to muscle several guys aside to get here first." It was a total lie but I was feeling magnanimous and figured 'what the hell.'

The music began and we took off. I found it really handy to have such a light woman to lead when she has no idea where she's going. I was able to steer us through the ordeal without too many crushed toes.

When we finished I led Roxanne back to where she started and she was laughing, babbling on, and generally having a good time. I could tell I had been right about her having been afraid of being left alone. She was nervous as hell.

"Come with me," I instructed her once we made the edge of the crowd.

She moved to take off the blindfold.

"Don't do that," I whispered, "or I'll have to go." She hesitated then puts her hands at her hips and lets me steer her outside. We ended up on the balcony overlooking the river with the beautiful view of the city at night. I pressed myself behind her and rested my hands on her shoulders.

"What do you think of the view?" I softly asked her, slightly bending my head so she could feel my breath in her ear.

"I don't know; I'm blindfolded," she responded snappishly.

"No; you are now, but I've seen you come out here several times tonight and you've looked out over the city. Now tell me what you see." I was guessing about her coming out but somehow it fit.

"The rippling of the water and how the lights from all the buildings play off of it," she recalled. The lights of the skyscrapers rising up to those blinking red lights that wards off the planes, and the lights of the planes flying so high up above. I love how the river flows into the city so in the night you can't tell where one ends and the other begins."

"You lied to me," I said softly.

"No, I can't see," she protested.

"But you told me you couldn't see the view," I countered, keeping my voice low in order to not be recognized.

"I ... -- no -- ... yes," she admitted.

"What should I do to you for lying to me?" I questioned. Right then that was sort of a fun thing to say.

"I don't know," she gulped.

"Give me your necklace," I told her.

"But it is expensive," she whined. I didn't say anything until she finally took it off and placed it in a hand I held over her chest. I took the chain and lowered it into the top of her strapless dark blue dress, slowly edging it into her left breast cup. Roxanne's breathe became more labored but she didn't stop me.

"Leave it there the rest of the night," I instructed her.

"But it is rubbing against my -- " she stopped herself from finishing telling me the word "'nipple"'.

"That's why it is called punishment," I answered. Roxanne nodded her acceptance. Now I decide to press things a little farther.

"Are you attractive, Roxanne?" I started.

"Not really," she confessed.

"You are lying to me again," I growled.

"No -- wait. ... I don't know what you mean. I don't know what to say," she babbled.

I took Roxanne's hand in each of my own and brought them gracefully up to her face. I rubbed then along her cheekbones.

"What are these?"

"They're my cheekbones," she murmured.

"No. , feel along the high, fine lines;, how delicate and smooth; feel how your cheeks flow down to your jawline, slender and precise, leading up to the small, defined point of your chin," I instructed her as I led her hands along. "Are these the features of a plain woman?"

"No," she whispered. I took her hands down her neck to her shoulders.

"You have small shoulders," I commented and Roxanne nodded.

"Are you a small woman?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Good girl," I rewarded her. I moved her hands in an arch over her chest to her hips. "Do you have perfectly tailored womanly hips for a lady of your proportions?" I thought so; Roxanne was barely five feet tall and maybe one hundred pounds but kept herself in good shape for an older woman. If her breasts were a bit smaller than I liked I could blame it on her elfin build.

"Yes," she whispered. I moved up to her waist which was definitely thinner than her hips.

"How is your waist not perfect;, your stomach not flat and shapely?" I hounded her.

"I -- no, ... you are right," she sighed. "I lied."

"How did you lie? Tell me exactly how you lied," I commanded.

"I said I wasn't attractive," she moaned.

"Then tell the truth," I told her.

"I'm attractive," she murmured.

"How should I punish you? This is your second time tonight," I grumbled playfully.

"I don't know," she whimpered more in anticipation than fear. I wasn't sure what to do either.

"Give me your panties.," I went for broke; the answer I got was surprising.

"What if someone sees me?" she whispered. She wasn't saying 'no', she was asking not to get caught.

"Trust me," I assured her. Roxanne twisted her head in order to hear better then hiked up her dress and worked her panties down with one hand. She held them out; I took them and pocketed them swiftly lests someone sees, yet I noticed their dampness.

"What is next?" Roxanne said softly. Frankly, I was out of game. If I had had time to prepare for this I could have come up with all kinds of things to make her do but this was all such a surprise, my mind was blank.

"I have to go now, but hold out your hands," I replied. Roxanne pouted and seemed truly distressed but again did as I instructed. I picked offplucked a long stem white rose from a nearby arrangement and placed it in her hands.

"Take off the blindfold in ten seconds and no sooner. Good night, Roxanne,." I turned and exited the scene quickly.

From a good vantage point for secretly observing her, I saw Roxanne return to the party with a wistful expression on her face, the rose brought up to her nose as she glided back to the gathering. For the moment I hoped I had made someone's night if not my own; little did I know how soon I would know the answer to that.

(Back from the Honeymoon)

The next week was surreal. Most of the staff figured Roxanne was doing drugs because she was moving around the work area without berating a single solitary soul. As the week wore on she did become more agitated, though, and on the next Monday it soon became evident what was going on.

Sandy wasn't back from his honeymoon an hour before he was called to Roxanne's office.

When he came back out Roxanne was back to her old ways and, if anything, a little more vicious. I cornered Sandy in the break room and he related to a few of us what had happened. Roxanne had grilled him on whether any of the wedding guests had been asking about her. When he claimed ignorance of any such event she sort of slumped in her chair with a crushed look on her face and dismissed him.

For the sake of my office I decided to do something. I went out early for lunch and, brought a single white rose, a black blindfold, and a card. On the card I wrote:

'Missing the feel of you under my hands; put the blindfold on at six this evening and wait for me.'.

What could I lose besides my job, my self-respect, and the respect of my peers? In reality the result of my gift-giving was to turn night into day. Roxanne didn't bother anyone the rest of the day, though only Sandy was wise enough to be suspicious of me. He warned me I was playing with fire so I told him I was being careful.

(Second Encounter)

Promptly at six p.m. I snuck back into our office area which was thankfully vacant. Sitting at her desk, hands flat on her desk was Roxanne, blindfolded and clearly excited. I ghosted up beside her.

"Good Girl," I told her softly. She popped up out of her seat and looked my way.

"I -- " she stammered. I took her by her hands and pulled her up facing me.

"Have you been good?" I asked. There was no proper answer to this one and I knew it.

"Yes," she said authoritatively.

"Oh, really?," I questioned. "Have you missed me?"

"No," she stated in a quivering voice.

"So you don't miss the touch of me on your body?" I continued.

"No," she persisted.

"Why are you here right now, then?" I questioned.

"I wanted to tell you to leave me alone," she breathed.

"Why are you blindfolded?" I teased her.

"I knew you wouldn't come by unless I was," she responded weakly.

"You could have done nothing," I replied. "You could have gone home early, or been in your office without the blindfold but you choose to be here prepared for me to arrive."

"It isn't like that," she stumbled. She reached up to remove her blindfold, waiting at the last minute for me to stop her, but I didn't. Her hands trembled at the edges.

"Put your hands down," I instructed her quietly. Her chest heaved and she stopped.

"You've been lying to me, Roxanne," I whispered. She gulped.

"No," she responded in her own ghostly whisper. I turned her around and started pushing her over the desk. "What are you doing?" she asked, but I didn't stop. Her resistance weakened then stopped entirely. I pulled out a paddle from my briefcase and moved behind her.

"I'm going to punish you now," I spoke calmly, then I brought the paddle down with a light tap on her ass.

"What!" squeaked Roxanne.

"Have you missed me?" I repeated.

"No," she responded, so I smacked her again a little harder.

"Ow!" she squawked a little louder. "Stop it." I noticed she wasn't moving out of the way, though.

"Have you missed me?" I said yet again. Now she hesitated; she could feel the paddle hovering behind her.

"Yes," she whispered. I took the paddle and rubbed it in gentle circles on her left cheek.

"Good girl," I encouraged her as she sighed.

"Have you missed my touch?" I started again.

"No," she whimpered. 'Smack' came down the paddle and she yelped.

"Must I repeat the question?" I asked.

"Please," she begged but I spanked her ass anyway. "Ow!"

"I'm ready to keep this up as long as you are, Roxanne," I informed her. She could feel my hand coming back.

"No, please. I missed you."; she admitted reluctantly. "I missed you; I've missed your touch." she pled. Now, I was actually curious about this, her heartfelt confession.

"Why?" I inquired.

"I don't have anyone else.," She choked back tears. I leant over her again until I'm I was breathing in her ear.

"I've missed you too," I told her. Roxanne moaned in response. "Now, are you going to take my punishment?"

"But why?" she wondered.

"What did I tell you about your body at the party, Roxanne?" I instructed her.

"I -- you said I was attractive," she replied in confusion.

"Have you been dressing like an attractive woman?" I questioned. That caused her some hesitation and some fear.

"N- no," she stammered.

"What am I going to do about that? You are clearly a highly attractive woman yet you dress in a way to hide yourself from the World," I taunted her.

"I don't have any -- " she murmured.

I leant back and reached down to the hem of her skirt. I pulled it up slowly, watching her squirm under my touch.

"Please don't," she whimpered, but she offered no other resistance. I bunched up the skirt at her waist and looked down at her plain white panties.

"How many buttons are left undone on your shirt?" I asked casually.

"Two," she responded meekly. I hauled off and spanked her nearly exposed cheek. "Ow!" she squealed again.

"How many buttons do hot women have openedleave open?" I questioned.

"Three," she guessed. I spanked her other cheek but very lightly. "Oh," she moaned sexually.

"Should your skirt come down to your knees with legs as nice as yours?"

"Please don't spank me," she pleaded but I was not buying it. Smack. "Ow! Half way up my thigh," she yelped. "Half way up my thigh."

"Was that so hard? All I want you to do is admit what a sexual creature you are," I informed her. "Can you do that for me?"

"But -- " she began but I cut her off with a smack. "Ow! Please, I'm not -- I can't say it." Smack. "Ow!"

"Let's try another way," I reassessed the situation. "Reach back behind you." She did and I led her questing hands to her sore butt cheeks. She touched them gingerly. "Rub them."

"It hurts," she complained. I moved one hand aside and she knew she is going to be spanked again.

"Wait, wait, I'll do it," she begged. She placed one hand on each cheek and began to cautiously rub each.

"Describe them to me," I requested.

"They are small-ish," she stumbled. I moved her hand aside and she trembled. "Wait, they are firm," she attempted.

"They are well-formed like two small loaves of bread. They move with each step you take, back and forth, in a seductive rhythm when you walk. I'll forgive you for not knowing that. Do you trust my appraisal?" I questioned.

"Yes," she responded with some bewilderment, but she did go back to rubbing her own backside.

"Very nice?" I asked her. "Do they feel nice? Do you think other people would love to touch them?" She remained quiet so I smacked her again.

"Ow!" she cried out. "Yes, please. I have a nice ass. Please don't hit me anymore." Instead of responding with words I rested the paddle on the small of her back and pulled her hands back to her chest level. Roxanne was trembling and starting to sob. I picked up the paddle again.

"Please," she sobbed. I flipped it in my hand so that I was holding the paddle and had the handle sticking out.

I rubbed the handle smoothly from the top of her ass crack languidly downward. Roxanne started breathing again, sighing in relief, but that relief soon turned to uncertainty as the paddle approached her private places. I drew the handle back up and she relaxed only to again be replaced by more rapid breathing as I rubbed all the way down to the space between her asshole and pussy.

On the next trip down I rubbed all the way down to her pussy. I picked it up and sniffed it. Her womanly scent was strong so when I pushed it down yet again, I rubbed it along the underwear covered patch that was the dampest. Roxanne put her forehead to the desk and stifled a moan.

"Does this turn you on, Roxanne?" I questioned, as I pressed her lips apart with the paddle.

"Are you going to spank me if I give the wrong answer?" she whispered.

"No, Roxanne," I responded softly to her. She hesitated for over a minute.

"Yes," she said softly. "Does it disgust you?" she continued dejectedly.

"It turns me on, Roxanne. In fact, it is sexy as hell," I confessed to her quietly. That admission made her squirm slightly.

"I have to go now," I informed her.

Roxanne propped herself up on her elbows and lookeds back at me through her blindfold.

"Already?" she said with some desperation. She was aroused but I had no intention of interjecting sex into our relationship yet.

"I'll contact you soon," I promised, as I pulled her up, turned her around, and placed my hands on either side of her jaw.

Her lips opened and I kissed them tenderly. Roxanne groaned into me and she rested her hands on my hips, pulling me in tight, my erection tight between us. I let her go, backed away from her, and headed for the door.

"Soon?" She begged.

"Yes ; now don't take the blindfold off for thirty seconds," I explained. As my last action I gave her the white rose. I was well out off the main floor when I saw her come looking.

(Third Encounter)

Besides sitting a little funny for the next few days, Roxanne was a stunningly pleasant woman. Though blunt, she no longer went out of her way to belittle any of us underlings. The only disappointing thing that I noted personally was that she kept wearing the same drab clothes.

I developed a plan which was equal parts bastard and erotic. First was a little game; I snuck a card and a rose into her room requesting a little show of faith. I asked for the bra she'd worn to the wedding. I wanted the set to return to her later, or so I claimed. With that done I set the my second part of my plan into motion.

It took a bit of work and a hit to my bank account to pull this off in the next sixteen hours but I did it. The hard part was getting it in but work conspired to make that easier; Roxanne was called away to a meeting for most of the morning. Around lunch I made sure the coast was clear and snuck into her office.

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