24-Hours

Preface

This is a little, rather hardcore story. The ones who enjoyed my "The Undercover" and "Janine's Journey" Might like it. The ones who liked my "36" and "The Island" should probably not give this a try. As usual, I have done my best, and hope you readers will like it.

2024.04.28 - O_Girl

Prologue.

by o_girl © 2024

It had been quite a while since I had heard from B, but to my surprise, it was her that popped up on the display when my phone rang.

"You are going to a concert!"

"I am? Sounds good. Who's playing?"

"Heaves Terly".

It was late Wednesday evening and I had definitely not expected B to be in the other end. Nor had I expected the proposal to go and see Heaves Terly.

My late father, who had been a locally well-known musician and band leader, had taught me a lot about the "icons" of the 1960'ties and 1970'ties. One of whom was Heaves Terly.

This artist had a special place in my mind. One because the record collection I had inherited from my parents held a wide selection of this particular artist's records. Two, because my father had seen it fit as part of my "general education" to send me during the school holidays alone to stay with one of his friends in England. When I was 12! And did not speak a lot of English.

I found a "spare" father in this friend of my parents, had the time of my life in his home, and kept coming back for the next many years until they had all died on me.

He took me to see Heaves Terly, and taught me all about the special Cockney-working-class slang, that made his songs so different and "realistic".

For years I had not touched the Terly records but apparently, B had made a note of my fondness for this artist.

"Oh! Great. Where's he playing and when?"

"Saturday. In "2LG" at the Meat Market downtown. Six PM, and with a full backing band!"

"I'll be there. Shall we meet outside?"

"Sure. Get there early, so I have time to admire you..."

"Hihihi...You naughty woman. I suppose this is all just an excuse to take me home afterward and do unmentionable things to me?"

"I never thought of it, but now that you mention it, I might be convinced to teach you some manners!"

I knew of course that she was aiming at this all along, and was quite pleased with the invitation. After all, it was a long time since, I had had some proper sex with anybody, and B was one of the best!

"Yeah, yeah! I'll do my worst to bitch around and act up, so you'll have plenty of reasons..."

"OK. I'm looking forward to that! See you there. Be there or be square!"

"Bye now.."

"Bye."

Chapter one - Preparing

by o_girl © 2024

Saturday came, and a few hours before the concert, I was trying to make myself ready.

It took some considerations. How should I look? What should I wear?

It took a while, and I was through a lot of stuff in my closet. Then made a careful arrangement on my bed. Provocative or decent? Innocent or seductive? I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee.

B had always been used to me playing games with my looks and attire, so how could I surprise her and maybe even give her a reason to punish me for not playing the expected part?

I shoved everything back in the cupboard and dug out the compulsory "little, black dress". The one I assume most women have in their wardrobe.

Slipping into the slightly shiny dress and turning around in front of my full-length mirror I smiled as it still fitted me as if painted on. Chanel would be proud of me, I thought.

I dug into the cupboard again and rummaged around in my shoes.

After a considerable effort, I found my black, lacquered shoes. They were not as high-heeled as the "models" use, but still with a fairly high heel, an open front for the toes, and a little strap around the ankles. If a chance of dancing arose, I would not stumble around like a drunkard or break my ankles. Something I was certain to do if I had chosen one of my ordinary high-heelers. This pair at least had a firm contact with Terra Firma so I would be able to move freely.

No jewelry of any kind, but I had to find my tiny black Gucci dress bag to hold my keys, phone, and makeup for necessary repairs, etc.

More thinking and looking. Then decided on a pair of "picnic undies". The "picnic part" was that they were open down the middle. If I spread my legs it would give immediate and free access to my private parts. Of course, I have several of these, but to match the dress I choose a black, lace variety. Actually, an expensive pair that B bought for me a long while ago.

It took some really deep thinking and trying out before I decided on a quarter-cup bra. I don't have a breast size worthy of any praise, but at least the bra lifted and parted them nicely.

When I said "no jewelry" I was not quite truthful. I went into my little secret box with the steel rings and whatnot and decided on the large smooth clit model. It made me tingle just getting it out of its box and giving it a clean and sterilizing treatment.

More so when I - with some difficulty - sat on the bed and had one leg up and one on the floor while I pressed the hood back and tried to press the ring through the small hole behind the clit.

It had been a while, but without getting myself too excited, I managed in the end.

I was glad when I finally turned the little round orb in its thread and made the ring fixed in place. Looking in the mirror again I pressed on the sides of my outer labia and had a good look at my clit that was now helplessly poking out between the edges of the hood.

Even when I put my legs together, I could still clearly see the clit.

I thought I had finished, but then a small devil in the back of my head whispered to me.

I opened the small box on the side of my dresser and found the dress collar.

It was a thin 3 cm silk band with a small ring in the front. The Velcro fastening at the back of the neck made it sit very tight.

I finished that off by clicking my platinum and lacquer Triskelion amulet to the little ring.

It also took a while to dig out the relevant makeup. That had also been quite a while, so everything was at the back on my dressing table.

I ended up with black eyeliner, darkened upper eyelids, and just a touch of a shadow between the eyelids and the brows.

I was never one for excessive makeup, so I did my lips with a bright, dark red, and "kiss-resistant" lipstick and a gloss on top of that.

Fortunately, I found the nail polish to match the lip colour.

Now I felt like a real femme fatale and was quite happy with the result.

--

Right below my flat, there's a Hairdresser/Beauty Salon. I have always been on very good terms with the guy down there, so I trotted downstairs and charmed him into freshening my hair up at once.

"So, you want me to do your hair tips, Darling? No problem. Have a seat."

"If that's the only tips, you will do please go ahead," I said with a grin and blinked at him.

"Oh! You are up and running today, my lovely!" He blushed all the way up to the roots of his hair, and I jumped into a chair.

It turned out to be a lot more than my hair tips. I got my normal auburn-coloured hair trimmed and coloured pitch black, and my legs waxed. (Yes, it is the only part of me, that has not had a laser job yet!), a face massage and a lot of small talk in the process.

Of course, my own attempt at an eye-make-up was not approved, so he redid it, and I had to admit it was much better than my own skills. He did leave my lips though.

The hairdresser is a young (younger than me, anyway) gay guy named Robert. We had a long talk about his recent love life and I told him about Heaves Terly, whom he did not know at all.

I must be something different, since I know and admire musicians from the last generation!

--

Back up in my own place again, I sat down in front of my dressing table.

I have a wonderful dressing table with a three-wing mirror and shadow-free lamps around the edges. If I need to see how I look in a more ordinary light, the top of the mirror has a couple of toned, directional spotlights.

If I want to see myself in full figure there's a large mirror on the other wall.

I sat down on my small stool and looked at myself. Trying a few poses: Hands behind the head, sideways, legs spread hands behind the back, and so on.

I was quite happy with what I saw.

I know I am not "model-material". I'm too small and even though a B-cup, it is just too much breast meat to fit the picture.

However, I have learned over the years to get the most out of what I've got: Brownish-greenish eyes, distinct eyebrows, two "rabbit" front teeth that a lot of people find charming, pointed nipples that look like they are slightly hard all the time, a tight-lipped vagina, which when I put my legs firmly together reduces my opening to a thin line. That was now emphasized by the shiny ring at the top of the line, where my clit "paraded proudly".

Even though I am in my thirties, I still have the looks and ability to drive most up the wall of desire...and I was sure going to do my best tonight.

--

An hour later, I was ready, willing, and able!

I had a coffee as I checked myself out in the mirror one last time.

I knew that red and black were a potent combination, so the very, very ruby red lipstick and nail polish was a show-stopping accent to the black hair, dress, and mascara.

As the hairdresser was working on my face I had had second thoughts a few times. Maybe I will look too gothic or too much like I had not slept for a week, but as the hairdresser usually worked with the jet setters and had an almost permanent freelance job for several film companies, I ended up feeling quite confident about what he had done.

The little black dress still sat on me like it was painted on. The silky, semi-smooth material felt cool and sexy on the skin. Turning a little in the light, I could clearly see the outline of my nipples - perfect!

I tried lifting the skirt up, spreading my legs, and watching in the mirror how the steel ring shone through the black lace of the panties. Then as the material parted when I spread my legs, the labia also opened slightly and the clit and ring came in full view.

Like a mouth opening slightly before a sigh...

I used a finger to check slowly. It was more than wet enough and I knew it would stay that way for the rest of the night. All I had to do was visualize in my head the picture I was looking at in the mirror right now.

A last sip of coffee, the bag, keys, and out!

On my way down, I stopped at the hairdressers once more. He was doing some sort of wild, unbalanced hairdo on a young man looking somewhat like a luxury punk.

"My, my! Who ARE we going to eat tonight?"

We pecked kisses on the lips.

"No one in particular. Just wanted to get your approval before venturing out in the night. Am I ok?"

"Wonderful, my dear. Turn around."

I turned and noticed that the saloon had too many full-length mirrors. A short moment I contemplated going back up and changing into something making me look a little less naked and a little less daring - but...

"The shoes are a bit much, but I assume you are trying to add height?"

"Right! You just have to rub it in, don't you? I just want to be up in the air the rest of the world breathes."

"Sorry. Just think you are fine on the ground, not up in the air - and those shoes ARE a bit porn, aren't they?"

"I suppose so," I licked my lips slowly as I looked straight into his face, knowing that he would appreciate it - but not in the way a hetero would, which was fine with me."

"Makes your legs look astonishing, and make me feel sorry I am not into girls. Can I take you out one evening?"

"Sure. As long as you don't "sell me off" to one of those militant-looking dykes you hang around with!"

"But...MY Dear..I would not dream of such a thing. Just want to show you off to the world..?"

"OK - that's a deal, but not tonight. I have a date and you have to finish whatever you're doing to that young man's head and face."

The punk in the chair had been very quiet, but the mirrors had made it quite possible for me to keep a check on where his eyes were going. I'm not into cradle robbing and I judged him to be around twenty, which meant he was just out of his short pants. Still, his attention did my ego a lot of good.

"So, what's the verdict? It's not too much?"

"No, you're quite fine and could not look any better."

"I have not shown you all of it!"

I put one leg up on the seat of the next chair. The short skirt slid up automatically and the undies parted. With my right hand, I took a finger on each side of my opening and pressed back, so that the ring was in full view.

"Well. Do you like it?"

The punk in the chair instantly turned red in the face - and then purple. His eyes desperately tried to look at anything else than my crotch - but not succeeding very well.

"..but..but..you're simply TOO much, my dear," Robert exclaimed and swung his scissors and comb in the air.

"It's a decent place, so please cover yourself up. You'll scare the customers away."

I looked straight at the punk, who licked his lips. His throat had probably dried up.

"What do you think? Am I sexy?"

"..ahemmm..ehhh..yes...I..guess..soo....very much.."

"Thanks."

I stepped down gave Robert another hug, and walked out: "Now, boys. Behave yourself tonight."

I did not wait for the answer but knew that Robert would certainly elaborate on me and my behaviour after I had left, which gave me quite a kick as I stepped into the waiting taxi.

--

It was a 15-20-minute drive across town to The Meat Market. As it was early summer, the sky was still bright blue and the outside temps were pleasant. I had made the right decision dropping to wear an overcoat. I sat back and relaxed. How come I was such a shy and private person, and then I went and did, what I just did - not to mention going into a concert place with probably a thousand people and dressing up in almost transparent clothes?

The way I seem to be mentally in the extreme ends of the spectrum never stops puzzling me.

B was good for me. She took all these thoughts away. I knew I just had to throw myself at her and let go. Even if I did try and retain some control or some idea of playing up as I had just done, she was the woman to keep it down. That's why sex and games with her were so good. She knows what I like, she knows how much pain I can take and still enjoy myself. Most important though is: She knows when to stop. She also knows exactly the point of degradation that will make me wild and start climbing the walls. We have known each other for so long, that being with her is "like holding an old friend's hand" in all ways imaginable.

"You meeting somebody?"

The driver was trying to make conversation and in the rear-view mirror, I could see his eyes looking at me.

His gaze and voice seemed nice and friendly.

"Yep. Going out with friends - to a concert with someone called Heaves Terly."

"Strange. I used to like Heaves Terly in the old days and if had not been working I would probably have been in there with you tonight, but you seem so young?"

I gave him my best smile: "Thank you, but I am not that young."

His eyes revealed that he was smiling too: "That might be. I am certain that I am old enough to be your father. In fact, I have children your age. So how come you're going to this concert?"

"Ah! You think it is some sort of fad or coincidence that I am going today, but you are wrong. I have been a fan of him ever since I can remember. On the other hand, you are right: It was my father that turned me onto him."

We continued discussing the songs and lyrics and speculating if he would still be up to it. I was amazed by the detailed knowledge he had of the lyrics. He seemed to know a lot more than I ever would about the guy and his history.

While we talked, I tried to imagine this middle-aged, slightly overweight father with a receding hairline, as he must have looked, when he first heard Terly. Probably long hair and with flowered Indian-inspired clothing and sandals - and maybe even stoned...

We drove along a tree-lined, small, and almost empty road. Then he turned right and we had arrived.

The Meat Market was if anything uninspiring. It was a square surrounded by the concrete buildings that had once housed butchers and meat wholesalers. In the far corners, there were still a couple of wholesale supermarkets. Reserved for restaurants and company kitchens to do their shopping.

The rest had all been converted into cafés, restaurants, and a few clubs.

At most of the places, only a lit-up sign above the building indicated what was going on inside.

In the middle of one side, a crowd of people were gathering around the entrance to the concert.

My driver slowed down, took the full turn of the square, and ended in a perfect "landing" right in front of the crowd.

"So, Princess. We're here!"

I swiped my card in his machine: "Thank you for the ride and the conversation."

"You're most welcome, my dear. Hope you have a smashing evening - and give my regards to good ole' Heaves."

"Thanks. I will."

I paid and took a very deep breath...

Chapter two - Flirting

by o_girl © 2024

"Wait a minute," the driver said and then scrambled out of the door.

He came round to my side. Opened the door and did a very deep bow.

This was worse than I had anticipated. All the people close to the taxi turned and looked.

I took another deep breath and stepped out of the Mercedes.

"Thank you again," I whispered to the driver.

"A princess like you deserves to arrive in style!" His eyes smiled again. He must have been good-looking in his youth I thought.

I stood on my toes and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "Thanks once again."

He had not shaved for a while and the stubble felt scratchy, but he had a nice smell to him.

I turned and faced the crowd. It was not as dense as I had expected. In fact, there was plenty of room for me to wriggle through towards the entrance.

As I plunged into the mass of humans I found that moving did me a lot of good. I was not so much aware of the staring looks and closed myself off to the people nearest to me in passing.

Suddenly I spotted B sticking up beside a ticket collector girl. She lit up with a big smile and waved.

"Hi, B!"

"Hi, girl! You look smashing - as usual!"

I threw my arms around her and let my open lips meet hers. Pushing the tip of my tongue just inside. It was answered by a deep suck on it. Making it slide further into her mouth. I could feel the tip of her tongue playing with mine inside her.

"Mmmmmm...you have not lost the touch, Girl!" She smiled when I stepped down again. Another thing about B is that she kisses so that one totally loses sense of place and time.

Coming back into the world, she grabbed my arm gently and led me through the ticket control and then through the denser crowd inside and up to the bar.

"Hello. Here we are. May I present: Girl! Girl this is Joséphine and Melanie. Two of my very good, old friends."

She stuck an arm behind my back and gently pushed me in the direction of the couple at the bar.

Melanie was about the same height as B, but with a hair tone a bit more auburn-brown than B's pitch-black-Italian-mischief-colour. She had a long, slim, well-trained body and a longish, pleasant face. I guessed that she worked in some creative job because she had large, bespoke, and "designer" earrings in each ear and her long hair was braided into a French braid that started almost at the top of her head.

Right now, her grey eyes were sizing me up. In an unmistakable way. I was tempted to ask her if she would like me to stand up on something so that she would not get a sore neck looking down my cleavage. I lowered my eyes and did my best "shy-girl" impression. I stuck my hand out and up, and the dampness I felt in her palm could not totally be ascribed to the stuffy atmosphere and the hot room.