Three and Out

The pictures were as stunning as I had expected. My favorite showed Sheila with her top off, hung on a hanger in the background. Under her skirt was Mario, eating away. Only my arm showed, pulling back the lash for a blow. Sheila's face was obscured in the flurry of the ends lash cords. The crowning piece was a strand of rich brown hair, hanging over her shoulder and framing her nipple with a curl.

We had been in her office for hours, going through the four hours of surveillance tapes, pruning it down to several dozen shots. I had to respect not only Sheila's handling of her fancy equipment, but her uncanny eye for the correct frame. It amazed me how a shot changed with a simple cropping cut.

"My Dear, I want to hire you. Some of these are publishment quality. To produce them from passive video tape, even if it is digital, is amazing. I can pay you quite well."

"You're serious."

"I never joke about money."

She laughed. Something she seemed to be getting better at doing. "Sean, I've been trying to think of a way to hire you. To help with this place."

"Let's discuss it over dinner. My turn. Leave your under wear here."

"Sean!"

I do not why she was shocked, "Come my Dear, I want to show you off, and I still have your reward to give you. Wear something casual. I don't have a change with me."

"You would be a 38 Long, 32 waist, 34 inseam." Nailed me. "I may have something."

I have no idea why, but she had a wardrobe full of men's evening clothes. Many vintage, ranging from Victorian to last week's prom. She pulled out a red velvet tux, a classic 1920's tie and tails, and a green and black formal from the HS prom set. Evidently she intended to dress up. Raise, fold or call.

"Very well my dear, I will attempt either of those—I did not care for my HS years—But you restrict my choice of restaurant."

"Tough noogies."

Ah. So. I will provide a suitable carriage. I knew where this was headed. Sure enough, an hour later I was dressed like Montgomery Clift going to the Ritz, and she was in a blue spaghetti strap flappers outfit, all tassels and nothing much else. That meant the Harderidge House. I had called Jimmy, and he drove us there in the old Duesenberg limo. I hadn't actually been out in that car since I bought it. Henri was being reasonable. He only wanted about $250 worth of merchandise for a table. At this point, I was having trouble figuring out who was ahead in our little game. Her play.

"Do you want to go in together, or pick me up in the bar?"

"I think the clothes are a give away."

"To true. I had fun the other night though."

"Some other time. We could try the Walnut Stump."

"Fat old rich men with richer wives. Try again."

"Albert's?"

"You're on. But I'll have to buy an outfit." So would I for that matter.

"Next Thursday. Now turn over. I need some access."

If I had expected her to hesitate, I would have been disappointed. Almost at once her cobalt ankle straps had their steel heels beside my ears. I unwrapped my gift. Black garter belt and white silk stockings. No panties as I requested.

She was clearly ready for action. I wanted her primed but not yet exploding. A pity. I would have liked a taste tight then. Instead I very matter of factly applied the KY to the beads and fed the strings in one after the other. I had already attached some white thread to the strings. I hoped she would not notice. The color would blend in with her stockings. By the time I flipped her back up, and gave her a kiss, we were there. Actually, the kiss made us a little late. I also found I liked having her in my lap.

***

Harderidge House is an old waystation from pre-Revolutionary times. During prohibition it was a notorious speakeasy. The décor is still in art deco, much of it authentic. On Saturday we would have fit right in. On Thursday, we were only slightly out of place. I headed for the bar. I wanted my drinks the way I like them, and I did not yet have a waiter here trained. It also gave Sheila a chance to make an entrance. I had my back turned, but saw it all in the mirror. Madonna, eat your heart out.

She did not walk in. She slinked. She looked straight at the barkeep, who stood up straight, and said "Yes Ma'am." She ordered a dry Martini with a cherry. Every guy in the place watched as she put the whole cherry in and took out the tied stem. Mouths fell open. Then she slinked up to me.

"Hello Darling."

"Shall we?", offering my arm. I could get used to leaving bars with her on my arm. I had a suspicion that Henri would have given her a table for asking. He might have held out for a pout, but I doubt it. I felt like a stick next to her as the waiter led us to the table. Worse, they had dancing here. Fortunately the band was on break.

We were seated and the menus arrived before anything else happened. Almost nothing. She stuck her toe in my crotch. I ordered chicken for her, beef for myself, and a bottle of period wine. While it was coming the band came back in. Oh shit.

I covered by dropping my napkin. That was transparent. While I was retrieving it, I picked up a thread, while giving her a goose. I was unsure if she fell for it, but I had a line into her vagina in my hand, and that was all that mattered.

As if reading my mind, she popped up and hauled me to the dance floor. I knew I was out of my depth here. I'm not bad, but she was trained as a professional. Fortunately, they started slow. I took her in my arms and swayed to the music. She seemed content with that. I knew she was waiting for a tango or a cha cha. If they played a Lindy, I would bow out. They went with a latin beat.

It was one of the more memorable experiences of my life. I had a thread tied to string of vaginal beads wrapped around my left pinky. Shiela did not seem to know the string was there. In any event, when the tango started, she stepped up into the stance. For several bars we danced face to face. Then she tried an extension. The string on my pinky went tight, followed by a definite throb, throb as two beads came out. I wished for the surveillance video, just to capture the look on her face. To say she had become aware of the thread would be an understatement.

She pulled back in, but I could see that this was just a preparatory move. The next dozen moves were a series of turns and half extensions testing the limits of the leash. I felt three more beads play out. There were only 10. I could see her impish grin as she counted the same numbers I had. Oh double shit. She was going to leave me holding the string, in the middle of the dance floor. And soon. The tango was almost over.

I held her close through three steps, but a complicated double moved gave her room. She did not choose to use it. Instead, she kicked, and put her leg over my shoulder. Now to let her down, I had to pull the string free. So be it. The finale played and I stepped back--incidentally pulling her into first position, since her arms were around my neck--then stepped in and swept her other foot off the floor. There she was, a beautiful armful, with the string of beads in my hand under her knees.

I set her on the floor. "Beautifully danced my Dear. Shall we dine?"

She laughed, conceding the point and kissed me. Juicily. I could tell the exertion and the tugging at her privates had raised her temperature several degrees. I dropped my hand to squeeze her ass, drawing a few stares, and managed to pick up the second thread, as I helped her to her seat. I slid into my seat opposite hers and dropped the thread on my knee.

As I cut my steak, I had a chance to look at her closely. It was hard to believe that this was the ice bitch I had first met. She positively radiated warmth, vitality, and more than a few hormones. A "Fuck me now you Asshole" look about sums it up. Before I could react, and odd thing happened.

"Julian. Julian." She was waving someone over. He looked like a body builder.

"Julian this is Sean, my very good friend." Julian bent over to kiss her hand, and got a good whiff in in the process. He looked at me with something akin to respect. "Julian, you remember the grey silk one? He managed it BLIND. Facing me. While doing an extraordinary massage."

Julian's look went from respectful, to shocked, to more intensely interested. I could not think why. Then it hit me. The corset. My Lord, I had been wanting to meet this man. I half rose and offered my hand. "I greatly admire your work. I don't see craftsmanship like that often. A corset that frees. Remarkable. I would like to see some of your other wares."

"Sean. No business."

"So true. Julian, if I may call…? I am sure I can get your number from this lovely lady, what was your name dear?"

Sheila threw her napkin at me. "I'll see that he gets it. Now shoo. The foods getting cold."

Julian: "I would love to stay and eat. It smells wonderful. But…" Then looking at me, "I would be honored by your call." He kissed Sheila's hand and walked away.

"Sean, you should be honored. He turns away business every day."

"Having seen his work, I don't doubt it. But you convinced him. He wasn't smelling the chicken."

"Then what? Oh…" She blushed and dimpled. "Maybe we should get this to go."

"An excellent idea."

The trip back to the car was like playing with a yoyo. I had not surprised her this time. She played with the tension on the beads like a violinist tuning a G string. Frankly her odor was becoming overpowering. I was glad when we got to the car. Jimmy had not even gotten around to the drivers seat before the dress was off. I mentioned that I liked her in my lap. That goes double with her naked. Especially when she dangles two beads of a string of 10 from a dripping cunt. Enough foreplay. Lets fuck.

I grabbed her and spun her around til her legs were over my shoulder. Then came a long French kiss and down the neck to her wonderful tits. I licked off the drops of sweat and nibbled around the base. Her hands were pulling at my hair.

I moved down to the top of her belly. Her hands reached for her cunt. I swatted them. "Ah. Ah. Ah. Mine."

"Well get on with it."

"As you say.", and flipped her all the way over. In this position, with her head on the floor, her waist locked between my knees, I had perfect access to my repast. I came to eat, and eat I did. At first she struggled, then squirmed, then shuddered once twice three times as I sucked and nibbled on her clit. Then, just as she was coming back around, I pulled out the beads. Sheila shrieked. I am afraid I cummed in her vintage pants. Jimmy kept the car on the road. Barely it seemed.

Then I was holding her in my arms, and stroking her beautiful brown hair, and telling her how special she was. Then we went for ice cream. The Braum's boy was wide eyed and dropped the cone. Then to her apartment above her studio. I carried her up, laid her in bed, kissed her forehead, and slept on the couch.

One of these days I am going to have to let her in my pants. This master bit has its moments, but the subs get all the action.