A Liaison

My escort for the evening and I have arrived at the H____ home, a gorgeous if a bit ostentatious mansion in Preston Hollow, for the charity benefit. He's a bit of a business climber, and he's dazzled and eager to begin to ply his not-too-subtle wiles on the powerful men and women at the party. I'm there to make one business contact-a side benefit to the evening-and to have another liaison with you.

I'm wearing a black heavy satin dress modeled on a 1950s Balmain cocktail dress, with a portrait collar and a bit of a full skirt-made for me, since vintage Balmain dresses never have a bustline large enough for me. My stockings are silk and black, and my black pumps are 4 inch stiletto, but not the ridiculous stripper platforms that are all the rage; they would look ridiculous with my dress. My hair is swept up on the sides and then curled slightly down the back of my neck. I'm perfectly correct-even slightly reminiscent of a curvier Grace Kelly-just as you requested.

Underneath, I am all courtesan.

I am wearing the scarlet corset that laces my waist tight, and leaves my breasts frothing like creamy foam at the top. My stockings are thigh high, and my panties a piece of satin with only a thin scarlet strip of lace running up the back. My scent is the nicotiana oil you find so stimulating, and in my ears dangle the diamond drops you gave me on my last birthday. Around my neck is a simple short silver chain with only a diamond nestling in the hollow at the base of my throat. It dances in the light when I move.

I feel like an elegant sacrifice.

We move into the main room and my date begins to schmooze as we circulate, and I see you across the room with your date for the evening. She's a bit of trophy fluff, young and empty-headed, but no one can deny she looks good on your arm. You take my breath away. Your tuxedo is classic, but you have so much charisma that I can feel it all the way across the room. You haven't seen me yet, and I can soak you in, seeing the way your hair brushes your white shirt collar. I can see a slight glint of your cuff links on your cuffs-the ones I gave you last Christmas.

I look for a moment too long, and-as if you feel my gaze-you look at me, and suddenly I can't breathe. Your eyes slide down me, and I know you can see that I've dressed for you-inside and out-and your lips turn up slightly in pleasure.

My date gets my attention, and I turn away to do business. Eventually, we come face to face with you and your arm candy, and you shake hands with my escort as I give her an air kiss. When it's my turn, you lean in to kiss my cheek, and I can see you glance down at my wide collar, knowing you see the hint of scarlet at the top. I'm so close to you that I can see the pulse in your throat, and I know you are as excited as I am at the thought of what will happen tonight.

She has her hand with its long french manicured nails tightly wrapped around your arm, and she looks archly at me. I know what she's thinking: He's mine. She's momentarily distracted as sees some of her trophy friends and goes off squealing in joy. I try not to smirk, but I can't help myself: as young and gorgeous as she may be, she will never have you, never know you mind, body, and soul. That is reserved for me.

Later, I've made my contact, and I look for my date. He's still performing verbal fellatio on H____ and C____, drunk on the borrowed power from the men around him. Your date is consuming appletinis at an alarming rate with her little friends, and talking about doing shots. I finally see you across the room, and you are looking straight at me, your single glass of scotch still in your hand, mostly full. Like me, you are too addicted to control to drink too much at an event where business is done. You quirk an eyebrow at me-asking if I'm finished with my business-and I smile, then turn and begin to casually walk to the terrace doors.

It's mid-autumn in Texas, which means the night is warm but with a hint of the deeper fall to come. I walk out onto the terrace, and anyone seeing me would simply assume I was getting some air. My heart, however, is pounding so hard I am surprised no one has noticed. My pussy is already moist-and has been since I dressed for you-and I am so excited I don't know that I could speak if I had to.

I know where to go in the lovely landscaped grounds. I skirt a fountain and take the path to a bit wilder and less lighted area. There's a bench there, and as I come into the small clearing, I'm disappointed to see you're not there yet-even though I knew you wouldn't be. As instructed, I go the back of the bench and rest my hands on its raised back, head down. And I wait.

I hear someone approach-I hope it's you-but I keep my head down. A breeze slides over me and my skin tightens and tingles. Then I smell your scent. Your lips touch the back of my neck and I arch my back in pleasure. Your arms come around me for just a moment, and your hands slide over my satin-covered breasts, then down, down, down. Then I feel my skirts sliding up as you lift them to my waist. Your left hand comes up to the back of my neck, and you push me down until I am bent at the waist, my skirts rucked up, and you nudge my feet apart with your foot.

You've not said a single word.

I can feel the slight hint of a breeze on the cheeks of my ass, which is now completely exposed to you and the moonlight. I know what you're seeing-you've orchestrated this event-the twin cheeks of creamy flesh bisected by a thin strip of scarlet lace, the lace tops of my stockings mid-thigh. I close my eyes in anticipation. Your left hand still on the back of my neck, your right hand cups my ass and then I feel your finger slide down the lace, down to the small bit that covers my pussy, sticky and wet with moisture, and I feel like swooning like a victorian miss.

You push aside the lace and stroke me with your finger once, twice...and then-as you abruptly push a finger inside my dripping cunt-you lean over me and say "mine" in my ear. I've been aroused for so long, I immediately orgasm around your finger. You give me a few strokes as I cum, almost lazily, and your left hand strokes the back of my neck. I am panting, all thoughts of feeling elegant gone-only the sacrifice is left. As I recover, you whisper in my ear, reminding me that there are other people in the garden, and that we could be discovered any moment...that if I value my professional reputation, I will contain my moaning and screaming. I know you're right, but at that moment, I don't care. It's all part of the danger and the pleasure.

My ears have finally stopped ringing, and I hear your zipper go down. Immediately my heart begins to pound again, because I know what's next. You kick my feet further apart, and push down on my neck again, and then I feel the head of your cock slide up and down the crack of my ass. There's moisture, and I know you are as turned on as I am-by the night, by the situation, by the danger.

I am presenting-my ass is spread, my pussy is wide and pulsing-and all I want is your cock inside me, but I am held in place as you tease me with your cock, pressing and sliding and-then you drive it inside my waiting cunt, and I cum violently, my blood pounding and roaring in my ears, but my moans stifled to whimpers as I've been instructed. I have been mounted, and I am yours-yet again.

You pound me with your cock and one orgasm becomes indistinguishable from the next as you bend over me, driving deeper and deeper. Your hand leaves my neck as you grip my hips with both hands, pinning me as your cock rams into me, impaling me over and over.

Suddenly you stop and raise your head, listening. We can both hear voices as people approach. I think you will pull your cock out of me, but instead, you begin stroking in and out slowly, heating my pussy up again. You bend over me and whisper in my ear-no moaning-and suddenly it is all I can do not to scream in pleasure. One hand comes up to lightly cover my mouth, and I bite it gently to remind you that I'm still here. You continue to stroke me deeply, but you pick up the pace a bit, and I can hear you breathing hard as you feel your own finish approaching.

Abruptly, you pull your cock out of my pussy, and I can't help a quiet moan of frustration. You laugh beneath your breath and I am spun around to face you. Your cock is still out and in your hand, and I know what I want. I keep my skirt up and kneel before you, taking your cock in my own hands and sliding it into my mouth. I can taste us on your skin. I hear your breath hitch as I close my eyes at the familiar taste. Your hands go to my head and you pull me towards you, sending your cock deep into my throat. I humm in pleasure as I use my tongue and mouth and teeth to give you the same pleasure. You groan and I know you are near to release, so I speed up my motions. Suddenly, your hands clench my hair and I feel you swell and pulse and I swallow your liquid gift to me.

After a few moments, you slide out of my mouth and pull me to my feet. My legs are unsteady, and I think yours may be too. You kiss me deeply, and then walk away, adjusting your clothes as you go.

I sit on the bench for a few moments, letting my breathing return to normal, then walk back to the house. I slip into a bedroom off the terrace and go into the bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror-my cheeks are flushed and my eyes glitter feverishly. I smooth my hair, rinse my mouth, and try to calm down.

As I enter the main room again, I can see my date is now truly intoxicated, and I know I'll be driving him home tonight. No surprise. Your escort is giddy and drunk and laughing loudly with her young friends. The party is going strong and the laughter is loud and drunken, but I feel a pool of calm around me. A waiter presents me with a glass of champagne and I take it, and see you near the terrace doors with your own glass. We toast each other silently across the room, knowing that you will come to me later, and we will begin to plan our next liaison.