Sylvia and Holly

Every city has its own night-sounds, but last night Portland's seemed to be particularly obnoxious. Sylvia had lay awake half the night listening to sirens, horns, car tires spinning on the rain-slick streets and the glaring cacophony of garbage-trucks until she finally gave up trying to sleep. For a 4-Star hotel, the noise was as loud as she had ever experienced in all her business travels.

Finally, around 6 a.m. she crawled out of the huge king bed and started her in-room coffee maker. She parted the heavy curtains and looked out the window at the dark, wet street below and shuddered. At least the coffee was gourmet she thought as she crawled back into bed and listened to the comforting gurgle of the pot.

The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee did little to improve her mood. She lay back and reviewed her plans for the day and knew it was going to be bleak. Being forced to fly to Portland for a 2 hour meeting that should have been handled with a conference call was not her idea of a fun way to spend a dreary winter day. And to lock horns with a major customer when she knew she wasn't ready to negotiate from the position of strength that she liked hadn't helped matters.

This wasn't her boss' first time to screw up her life with his prehistoric belief that face-to-face contacts were necessary to make business decisions, and unfortunately she was well aware that it wouldn't be his last. At least he was extremely generous with her expense account so she could look forward to first-class meals and an extra day or two to play on her own while she was here, regardless of how the meeting went. The only saving grace of the trip was that Portland had great restaurants, galleries and a charming trolley to take her to Powell's Books where she could spend hours.

As she drank her coffee she let her mind drift back to the last time she was in Portland. She had gone to the Pearl District where her best buddy Rae had given her a birthday gift card for a special massage. It had turned out to be so special it had became one of the most erotic experiences of her life. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to that day and to Jack the handsome masseur. Hmmm, the incredible way his hands had worked wonders on her body was beyond belief. He had brought her to an orgasm as powerful as she had ever experienced, and one she still fantasized about regularly.

Sylvia put down her coffee cup and snuggled back under the soft duvet, her hands sensuously seeking out her naked breasts. She was not surprised to find her nipples hard and sensitive just from reminiscing about Jack and she felt herself becoming turned on. She slipped one of her hands lower, her legs opening automatically to invite her fingers into the deep warmth between them. She arched her back sensuously, causing her cunt to rise up to welcome her probing fingers.

Her chest jerked as her breath sucked air deep into her chest. It was always the same. Whenever her fingers made their first contact with the hood over her clitoris her body responded with a shudder, her breathing involuntarily becoming ragged and expectant. She gently spread her waiting lips, allowing her middle finger to tentatively probe between, pleased to find herself already slick with morning dew. She closed her eyes, smiling to herself as her finger slowly brought the warm moisture up to bathe her waiting clit.

Umm—the perfect way to start a morning, especially on a day that only a few minutes earlier had seemed so bleak. Sylvia rolled her nipple more intensely, keeping perfect time with the finger that was now circling around and around her happy clit. She felt the welcome glow of an orgasm building deep in her secret pleasure cavern, her body only waiting for a two or three fingers to slip inside and draw it out. Her breath quickened and her movements became more demanding as she felt herself give in to such a delicious invitation . . .

R-I-N-G!

The air was shattered by a loud, jarring noise next to the bed. She reached franticly for the telephone; her eyes wide open with shock.

A voice dripping with fake sunshine chirped into her ear. "Good Morning! This is your wake-up call."

Sylvia slammed the phone down without reply and fell back onto the pillows, her heart pounding in her chest. She lay for a few minutes until her breathing retuned to normal then tentatively touched herself again, remembering how close she had been to cumming. Her body did not respond, the mood totally broken.

"Shit!" she muttered, "I guess I might as well get into the shower and move on."

*

The meeting went much as she expected, short and unproductive. By 11 a.m. she was walking back through the drizzle toward her hotel, her mood fitting right in with the gray, overcast day. No resolution had been achieved, although her client had asked to meet again the next day, claiming he needed more time for discussion with his board. She had agreed even though she felt he was just jacking her around. She could usually tell where she stood in negotiations but with this guy she didn't feel totally confident that she could close the deal. However she knew that if he came back with a proposal she could work with she had the authority to commit her company to the best deal she could salvage. Her boss had long ago come to trust her judgment and would back her up to the hilt.

Suddenly she realized she was starved, having skipped breakfast after her jarring morning wake-up call. The drizzle had turned to a constant rain and she had forgotten her umbrella so she popped into a posh restaurant, deciding to have a quick lunch. On a whim she ordered a martini while she waited for her food to arrive although normally she would never drink alcohol while she was working. After calling to cancel her airline reservation and extend her hotel room for another day, she sat facing a long, wet afternoon with nothing planned.

Finishing her lunch and feeling somewhat better about the prospects of spending a dreary afternoon in Portland, she sat back and relaxed and ordered another martini, wondering what she should do with her unexpected free time. Her mind flashed back to the massage she'd received on her last visit and she impulsively decided a repeat of that treat would be just what she needed, especially after the interrupted pleasure of the morning.

Quickly scrolling through her cell phone directory she located the number of the spa and dialed, hoping against hope that they'd be able to fit her in that afternoon or evening. The receptionist answered on the second ring, her voice bubbling with friendly, youthful exuberance, asking how she could be of help. Sylvia apologetically explained that she was only in town for the day and wanted to see if she could possibly make an appointment with Jack for his Rose City Bliss massage package on such short notice.

The receptionist's voice suddenly turned icy. "One minute, please," she muttered before putting Sylvia on hold.

Sylvia was surprised and somewhat shocked by the sudden change she heard in her demeanor. She waited, listening to the canned music and wondered what she had said wrong. Surely, people asking for short notice appointments couldn't be all that rare she thought.

Suddenly a cold, professional voice came on the line. "I'm sorry, Madame. Jack is no longer employed at this spa."

Sylvia thought for a moment and then asked, "Well, could you tell me where he's working now?"

The woman hesitated, then stated bluntly. "We don't know where he is employed and I must say I wouldn't tell you if I did. He was discharged under rather unsavory circumstances and we no longer wish to be associated with his kind. Good day, Madame."

The click in Sylvia's ear left no doubt that the woman had slammed the telephone into its cradle with obvious distaste.

"Wow," Sylvia thought. "Jack must have rubbed someone wrong." She smiled to herself. "Or . . . perhaps rubbed a wrong someone, right."

She signaled her waitress and ordered another martini, wondering what she was going to do now. "Damn," she thought. "I was really in the mood to see him." She felt keyed up, recognizing the adrenaline rush she always got when she was close to finalizing a deal. She really needed to unwind, to relax and clear her mind for the negotiation of the next day.

Suddenly, she remembered the dyke who worked with Jack at the spa. "Didn't she say she was studying to be a masseuse?" she thought. "She gave me her business card, saying she'd love to 'practice' on me. I wonder if I put her card in my Rolodex. Now, what the hell was her name?"

Sylvia had always been very organized. She was sure that if she'd saved the card her secretary would have automatically entered it into her phone directory, but what was her name? She could visualize her perfectly. She had been a cute little blond with a hard, well-muscled figure and slightly mannish features. And it was obvious she was smitten by Sylvia—she hadn't been able to keep her eyes off her and she had practically begged for a chance to get together in the future.

"Well, perhaps the future is now," Sylvia thought. "All I have to do is remember her name." She pulled out her telephone and started scrolling through the directory, starting at "A". She had hundreds of contacts stored, many of them people she hadn't thought about for years, and many more she had no idea who they were or why they were in her directory. She methodically worked her way down the alphabet until she came to an entry for a Holly Hansen. "Holly . . . that must be it," she thought. The area code was right, 503—Portland!

Sylvia quickly dialed the number, drumming her fingers on the table with impatience. It rang for what seemed forever and she was just about to hang up when an answering machine kicked on, Holly's timid little voice asking for her to leave a message.

"Shit," Sylvia muttered to herself as she hung up.

Whenever she made business calls she usually had a spiel rehearsed in case no one answered. She always wanted to sound professional and poised but in her excitement of calling Holly she had neglected to think of the possibility that she might get a voice mailbox. She deciding to finish her martini and think about what she wanted to say and how to say it, remembering the doe-eyed looks Holly gave her and the pleading way she said she hoped they could meet again sometime.

Sylvia thought to herself, "This little sub is just the kind of woman I need to get me in good form to take on that asshole when we meet tomorrow." She picked up her phone and dialed Holly's number again.

This time, when the recording came on she spoke clearly and confidently. "Hello, Holly. My name is Sylvia and we met at the Rain City Spa a few months ago. You took care of me when I had an appointment with a masseur named Jack. I'm sure you remember that Jack gave me one of his very special treatments, and I think you know exactly what I mean by special. Afterward, you gave me your card and said you'd like to practice your massage technique on me the next time I came to town."

Sylvia took the last swallow of her martini, enjoying its satisfying bite on the back of her tongue.

"Well, Holly, I'm back. And I'm really curious to find out how well your massage technique compares to Jacks."

She hesitated a moment to let the meaning of her words sink in, then continued very slowly and deliberately.

"I'm here just for tonight, so it's now or never. I'm staying at the Rose Hotel up on Broadway. I'm in room 505 and I want you to meet me there at 7 this evening." Sylvia grinned at how butch she sounded, even to herself. "I hope you can clear your schedule for me."

She paused for a moment then continued, her voice very low and deliberate. "Don't be late, Holly."

Sylvia hung up the phone, pleased with her commanding performance. She had absolutely no doubt that Holly loved having a strong woman tell her what to do and that she was powerless to defy one that made her decisions for her.

*

The knock was so soft Sylvia hardly heard it over the music coming from the little clock radio next to her bed. She glanced at the digital numerals, pleased to see them blinking 7:03. . She waited a moment until Holly knocked again, this time slightly louder and more insistent. She took a sip from the glass of chilled chardonnay she'd been drinking before walking to the door. Grinning to herself she mentally congratulated herself. "Boy, did I have this little Chica pegged right."

Sylvia opened the door and stood back as Holly struggled to carry her portable massage table into the room. She was wearing a light jacket that shone from the heavy rain she'd walked through, her wet hair glistening in the soft light.

"You're late." Sylvia's voice was not accusatory, just coolly matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry," Holly stammered. "The traffic was bad and I had a hard time finding a place to park. I had to walk the last 3 blocks." She looked embarrassed and flustered as well as soaking wet.

"Set your table up over there," Sylvia said as she pointed to the tiny 'living area' of her suite. "I'll get you a towel to dry your stuff off." She went into the bathroom and returned with a large towel. "Better dry yourself off, too," she added. "I wouldn't want you to catch cold."

Sylvia sat back in the overstuffed chair and watched as Holly took off her jacket and began to unfold and set up the table. She worked silently, avoiding any eye-contact. She methodically wiped down the table, setting the sheets, pillowcase, packet of oils and towels that had efficiently been tucked inside onto the coffee table next to her before using the towel to dab at her wet hair. She was wearing very tight skinny-jeans with a thin tank top and her short-cropped hair made her look even more like a dyke than she had at the spa.

"Pour yourself a glass of wine," Sylvia said. "You look like you could use it." She rose and headed toward the other room. "Make yourself comfortable while I get undressed." She stopped at the bathroom door and glanced back. She waited until Holly looked up to meet her gaze then slowly and deliberately looked her over from head to foot, then back up again. She didn't say anything, she just stared until Holly began to blush and squirm uncomfortably.

"I really like the jeans, Holly," she said as she stepped through the door. "But lose the sports bra by the time I come back." Her voice was cold and uncompromising. "I detest sports bras." She turned abruptly and closed the door firmly behind her.

Sylvia peeled off her clothes, pleased with setting such a harsh tone with Holly. She knew without thinking that Holly would do exactly as ordered. If ever there was a woman needing a strong hand, Holly was that woman. And Sylvia had felt an instant rush from dominating her.

She looked at herself in the mirror, carefully apprising the firm, sensual reflection staring back at her. She looked good naked and she knew it and she almost hated to wrap the towel around her before opening the door. She was amused to see Holly guiltily jump up from the chair where she had been sitting and quickly set her glass of wine on the table. She stood nervously as Sylvia walked into the room, taking her time to turn the lights down and the radio up before stopping directly in front of her.

Sylvia almost laughed out loud when she saw how quickly Holly started to blush when she stared directly at her shirt. It was instantly obvious that Holly had indeed removed her bra.

"Thanks," Sylvia said, nodding and smiling at the protruding nipples pouting saucily back at her. She dropped her voice to a soft whisper. "That's much better. You've got a very sexy little figure; it's a shame to not let people enjoy it."

Sylvia slowly un-tucked her towel as she walked toward the table. She hesitated, letting it fall away from her back but holding it demurely to cover her front for a moment before letting it slide casually down to drop in a heap on top of Holly's jacket. She turned and stood naked for a moment to let Holly's eyes roam hungrily over her body, then climbed onto the table.

"Shall we get started?"

*

Holly replayed the message on her answering phone over and over.

Each time she heard Sylvia's stern voice and commanding instructions, she became more intrigued. She clearly remembered Sylvia as being about the sexiest woman she'd ever seen at the spa and how turned-on she had become just by looking at her. She hadn't been able to keep her eyes to herself—so much so that at first she'd been afraid she might have given offence. However, when the treatment was over and she returned to escort Sylvia back to the dressing room, the satisfied look on Sylvia's face made it obvious more than a plain massage had transpired and she seemed happy to share her erotic high. Jack had confessed to Holly that some of his repeat clients came to him sexual relief, and since he enjoyed providing it he had developed quite a profitable following.

She could hardly believe Sylvia was finally calling her. For several months after that day she had fantasized that the call would come, but she gradually accepted it was unlikely to happen. Now suddenly she had reappeared and Holly felt herself grow excited with the possibilities implied in the message.

From the first hearing there was never any doubt in her mind that she would 'clear her schedule' to accommodate Sylvia. There wasn't much to clear, she ruefully reminded herself, her evenings were usually spent alone watching TV. She lived alone except for Lady, her long-haired Dachshund and never had evening clients, so all she had to do was take a quick shower, change and she could be on her way.

The decision of what to wear took longer than her shower. She usually wore old faded jeans and a non-descript blouse when she had massage clients, but she knew she wanted to make a good impression with Sylvia. She finally decided to wear her new hip hugger skinny-jeans, even though she wasn't very comfortable in them. The salesgirl who was selling them had convinced her they looked really hot and showed off her trim ass to its best advantage. Holly wasn't comfortable in something so stylish and wasn't in the habit of showing off her figure, always preferring old loose, mannish-looking clothes that were more practical. That afternoon, however, she had succumbed to the salesgirl's pitch and bought them, more flattered by her flirting than by the clothes. She'd never worn them since that day, but impulsively decided tonight was a perfect opportunity to step outside her usual comfort zone.

Ignoring Lady's disapproving gaze, she stepped into a tiny black thong and pulled the tight jeans over her hips, struggling to get them fastened. She put on a white blouse and checked her reflection in the mirror, disappointed to realize that while she looked professional, her image was decidedly unexciting. Impulsively stripping off the blouse she burrowed through her closet and finally chose a white tank top edged with pale yellow lace, one that was much more feminine than she usually wore. Slipping it over her head she returned to the mirror and instantly saw that she appeared softer, more feminine than usual. Still not happy with her image, she was about to try another outfit when she noticed the time and realized she had to get on the road immediately if she was going to be on time. The idea of being late for Sylvia was not one that held any interest to her.

Naturally, everything went wrong on the way to the hotel. Traffic was bad, the rain had started again and there was no street parking to be found anywhere near the hotel. Growing more frustrated as the time grew shorter, Holly pulled into a parking lot and struggled getting the folding massage table out of the trunk of her car. While she was feeding dollar bills into the box it started raining even harder, quickly ruining her hair and dampening her spirits. By the time she lugged the table the 3 blocks to the hotel she was soaked and ready to bite the head off the doorman if he said anything to her.