An Evening Soiree

The soiree was well-attended by the upper echelon of the city's high society. There were university presidents and CEOs along with mere interlopers like me. These charity galas were expensive, and it had stretched my budget to the limit for me to get the tickets, but I had always wanted to attend. Besides, the artist for whom the event was honoring was a friend of the family, and I felt it important to go, to show my respect.

I was near the bar, getting a glass of wine, when she sidled by. Easily the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, anyone within view of her were forced to turn and look. Her long flowing skirt was cut high up one leg, perfectly modeling the finely tuned body. Her white sweater was tight and cut low in the chest, and she had the boobs to pull off a look without looking like a cheap tramp. It did not hurt that the jewels around her neck, dangling down between those breasts, were probably four four million or more. Her hair was swept up then pulled back, away from her face, and she wore a pair of glasses. For me that was the coup de grace, the one thing that truly set her apart.

She beelined towards someone and interjected herself into the conversation. Figuring that I had gotten enough eye candy for a moment I took my glass of wine and went off to find Frederich, the distant relative artist. He was, not surprisingly, surrounded by many admirers, but he saw me and excused himself, and walked over. "Cousin James!" he said. "I'm glad you made it."

"Wouldn't have missed it Frederich. Quite the scene here tonight."

He smiled. Frederich's ego rivaled the moon in size, and stroking it kept one on his good side. "And all to celebrate...well...me!" he laughed.

"I don't want to keep you from your admirers there," I said softly so my voice would not carry.

"Oh no no, do keep me," he insisted, then leaned close. "The same boring goddamn conversation time and again, you know?" he said.

I smiled. "How's the newest projects going?"

"Well," he said. "Or not well. Depends on my mood as to whether I like my own creations."

"And Janine?"

"She's quite well, actually." Janine was his wife, and a very good looking woman in her own right. She was around somewhere - she had seen me and waved and I had waved back but she had been swept into a crowd and I lost contact with her.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"So what about you? Done with college yet?"

"Next semester," I said.

"And then?"

"God, I have to go find a job."

"How very trite," he smirked.

"Tell me about it. All those student loans to pay off."

"Ach, you will do perfectly well, cousin."

A new voice popped in. "And tell me Frederich, who is this strapping young man you are calling your cousin?"

We both turned to look; it was the goddess I'd spotted earlier.

"Aaaaahhhh Marlene how delightful of you to come!" Frederich went into his "politican" mode (as I thought of it) where he was making her seem like she was the only person in the entire universe capable of holding his attention.

"Would not have missed it, not with the money I've spent on your works in the past two years," she said. She turned to me, and extended her hand. I took it, and noted a soft grip. "I'm Marlene McWilliams," she said.

The McWilliams family was one of those old money families in the city. Kind of like Carnegie back in New York at the turn of the century. "I'm James Shell, Marlene. Pleased to meet you."

"And you are Frederich's cousin?"

"On my mom's side," I confirmed.

"Were you blessed with any of his artistic talents?"

"No ma'am," I grinned. "Just perhaps his height." Both Frederich and I towered over most guests, and six-three. We were both physical specimens as well; I had played college football for two years before a knee injury ended that. I had been told that I might have a shot at the pros but the knee killed it. Then I was back to being an ordinary student, and at a different school. I liked it, but it was expensive.

"That's too bad, dear, his artistic talents are very nearly unrivaled." I could not help but tilt my head, because for all the world it sounded like her words dripped with heavy innuendo. And I noted from the corner of my eye that Frederich dropped his gaze and turned slightly away. And then someone tapped his shoulder, and I swear it was with a sense of relief that he turned from the conversation.

"He's always been like that," I said to her, indicating his quick movement from the conversation. "I think the longest I've ever spoken with him is fifteen minutes."

She grinned. "That's five more minutes than my best. Perhaps family has its privileges!" she teased lightly.

"Your...jewelry is stunning," I said as I was at a loss to say anything else.

She laughed softly, almost politiely. Perhaps too politely. "Are you saying that because you are admiring the jewels, or admiring the breasts between which the jewels rest?"

I gulped. "Um. Yes?" I said falling back to my default which was some sarcasm, especially when confronted with a bit of a difficult situation.

She locked eyes onto mine, and I was consumed by them. "Oh come now my young strapping man, surely you can admit that you were admiring the flesh?"

I gulped a little. Her look...it felt predatory. And all of a sudden I felt a bit like prey. "All right, yes, your breasts are spectacular. As is the rest of you. Surely you've heard that before."

She smiled sweetly, breaking the forbidding moment. "All the time, my dear, all the time." She patted my hand. "I must run off, but...if you would?"

"Yes?"

"Don't leave until I find you again."

"All right," I said. My libido spoke for me there, as I had no real other reason to stay. It wasn't like I was mingling successfully with anyone, and now I was going to stand around looking foolish waiting for a married older woman? That was a dumb decision - yet my cock did not think it dumb. My cock thought it was the best decision I had ever rendered - at least in the past fifteen minutes.

So I ended up spending some nice chatting with an elderly couple by the bar. I explained that I was the artist's cousin and was there to support him. They spoke softly forcing me to lean into them to hear given the white noise of babble surrounding us, but the conversation was reasonably pleasant. They then moved away. I turned to the bar to have another glass of wine, only my third of the night, when a feminine cultured voice spoke next to me.

"I am pleased that you obeyed me," Marlene said softly. "I wonder whether you want to please me more?"

"And how could I do that?" I asked.

She smiled sweetly again. "If you will offer me your arm, I shall have you escort me to my car," she said.

"Ah. Yes, by all means, Marlene," I said. I left the empty wineglass atop the bar, and offered her my elbow. She gracefully draped her hand into the crook, and then I escorted her from the party. I was acutely aware that there were many eyes following our movements, and though I know it was because I was with her...having that many eyes looking at me left me shaken.

"How do you do it?" I asked.

"Do what, my dear?"

"All the attention, always, on you," I said.

"I have grown accustomed to it, in time. It is, however, tedious."

"I can imagine." We were nearing the front door of the museum in which the soiree was held, and a black-tie waiter held the door open for us both. We stepped out into the icy November air.

"My car is just down there," she said nodding her head down the marble steps. "Surely you can take me just a little further."

"Absolutely." I walked carefully, taking my time, noting that she lifted her skirt up slightly before taking a step so that she did not tread upon the hem of her dress with her foot. Once at the bottom a driver held a door open for her.

"Will you escort me further, James?" she asked quietly.

"If you wish, Marlene," I replied.

"Excellent." She entered the car with as much grace as possible whereas I sort of flopped my way inside. She patted the wide leather seat in the back of the limo. "I do not bite." She grinned wolfish. "Much."

"Hah." I slid over, and she placed her hand on the top of my thigh. The touch was somewhat innocent yet in the dim light and with the privacy window up the touch was something else entirely. All I could feel was how warm her hand felt on my leg. Nothing else really mattered at that moment.

"This is much better darling," she let the pet name roll smoothly off her tongue like she'd been doing it for years. "Do you agree?"

"Yes, Marlene, I agree," I said. I could not relax, not a whit. Being this close to her, inhaling her delicate scent and having that hand on my leg wreaked havoc on my mental state. It wasn't arousal - I was not sporting an erection - yet there was something in this woman's cool manner that had me hooked and hooked deeply. I also suspected that she knew that, and was luring me in - but into what? I had no idea.

"Do you smoke, or use drugs, James?" she asked.

"What? Me? No, no way," I said. "I used to play football," I said and went on to relate the story quickly. "I'm at a different university now. I graduate next spring," I reported.

"And what do you intend to do with your degree?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I had an internship this past summer but...well...if that's a career job then I don't know if I'm in the right area."

"But you are forging ahead with your degree regardless?" She had turned her body slightly, enough to be able to look at me. Her hand, however, had not moved.

"Yes, I am. It's important to me," I said.

"That is good. Education is a key to success in life," she said. "Although there are many paths to success," she added softly a moment later.

She then drew the window down. "Hector? To the condo, please," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," he said from the front, and then she pressed the button to engage the privacy window again. The car turned onto a different street, this one rougher. The car bounced a little, and as it happened we hit a pothole hard enough that I felt myself jostle into her.

"Oops, sorry," I said automatically.

"Why apologize for something when it's not your fault?" she asked reasonably. "It's not like I can be angry, unless it's at the city for the miserable condition of their roads."

"True, I suppose. Maybe I'm just being polite."

"Polite. Polite is a word."

"Yes, yes it is," I said curious at how she might respond. Her voice had dropped.

"My husband, for example, is exceedingly polite. He never mentions it to me when he brings his secretary home to fuck her."

I swallowed hard. That was not what I had been expecting to hear from her. So I chose not to reply to that leading comment.

She patted my knee. "Do not fret my darling. My husband and I, our relationship has evolved in many ways. He finds what he needs in simpering vacuous sluts, and I find what I need in strapping young men." She smiled at me, once again evoking the thought of predator and prey. "We both have our needs and we set upon courses that satisfy those needs."

Just then, the car lurched to a stop. She withdrew her hand, and placed both over her lap, crossing her hands one over the other, over her crossed legs, as she waited for her driver to open the door. As he did, she turned to look at me. "You're coming, of course?"

"Yes, Marlene," I agreed. I scooted across the seat and exited the car, and assuming that she wanted an escort into the building I stood next to her and once more offered her my arm.

"So thoughtful," she praised me and together we walked into the building. The doorman knew it was upon sight and maintained a stony expression not betraying his thoughts as he walked past him. He did nod once to her, a movement that she mirrored back to him. Once inside she pressed the keypad near the elevator rapidly six times. The car door opened and we stepped inside; this car had no buttons. The door close and began rising quickly. When it came to a silent, slow stop the doors opened and we stepped out into the living room of a penthouse condo.

"Holy shit," I blurted softly in total awe of the place. Though dimly lit I could see the artwork all over the walls (my cousin's had prominent placement) and the glass-lined walls offered the most impressive view of the city I had ever seen.

"It is remarkable," she agreed. She moved deeper into the condo, and I followed. She pointed. "There is the bar. Tonight is a scotch night for me. Select one, aged at least eighteen years, and pour me two fingers please. You may select whatever you deem appropriate." As she continued straigh ahead I veered off to the bar. I found one bottle with a brand I had once enjoyed, and poured the two fingers for her, and matched one for me. I set both down on the bar, and put the bottle away.

As I came from behind the bar, Marlene swept out from where she had been. The only difference in her attire was that she had put the jewels somewhere. Otherwise the same tight low-cut top and long flowing dress. I handed her the glass, which she thanked me while taking, and then we clinked glasses and had our first sip. It was, to be fair, the best, smoothest whiskey I had ever tasted.

"So my darling, you are impressed by this condo?"

"I am indeed, Marlene," I said. I had been pondering whether to give her a pet name but none came to mind. Besides I had the sense that attempting such a thing would come out awkwardly and potentially ruin the obvious sexual tension building between us both.

"It is my favorite place, all too often my home these days," she said allowing a trace of sadness to enter her tone. "But rarely am I lonely," she added. "I am quite capable of living alone without being bored."

"That sounds...."

She smiled and patted my hand. "It does not sound anything. It simply is." She stood away from me, lifting both arms out widely before twisting her torso a little back and forth. Try as I might not to stare at her breasts as she moved, the action set them wobbling and any hope I might have had at not staring was dashed. "I do enjoy being in here, however," she said dropping one arm, lifting the other to take another sip.

"I would, too," I said.

She smiled serenely. "Your school. Is it here on the island?"

"No, up in Connecticut. I took a train down."

"And what, you were planning on taking the train back tonight?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I see." She set her drink down. "Let me ask you a very direct question, James."

"Go ahead."

"Do you want to make your train, or do you want to discover what delights I may have in store for you?"

Needless to say my jaw dropped a bit. "I think, I'd rather discover...whatever you have in mind."

"Of course you do," she said smoothly. "I shall find a way to get you home tomorrow. Until then," she said, her voice dropping to an intimate whisper, "I do believe that you...are...mine."

In this moment, in the movies, men smile confidently. They step forward, wrapping their powerful arms around the narrow waist of the woman, and pick her up and walk her into her bedroom where he lays her down gently on the bed and begins the process of making love to her.

In that moment, I felt that touching her would result in a smacked hand.

"That sounds...intriguing."

"Intriguing." She tilted her head. "Now that is a good word. It is almost as good as curious. And I have to admit that I sense you are very curious about what my intentions are with you."

To that comment I could only nod several times before finally replying "Yes, Marlene."

"Let's talk about my intentions, James, shall we?" she said. She swept up her drink, and offered her hand to mine. I took it, and she clasped her fingers into my hand, and pulled me along with her. We entered her bedroom, with a king-sized bed with the covers pulled down just so, pillows piled up at the headboard. "My intentions, James, are to satisfy my urges to the utmost. Surely a man of your...stature...can provide this woman the satisfaction she demands?"

I shook my head a little; she confused me. Or maybe my brain was addled by the thoughts of sex. "I can," I said without the confidence that an actor would have projected.

"Good." She sat primly on the bed, perching her backside just at the edge of the bed. She set her drink down on the nightstand. "James, my darling, please kneel," she said and extended a hand with her index finger outstretched at a place just in front of her feet, "and remove my shoes. They are Jimmy Choo, James, so do take care."

"Yes, Marlene," I said as I got down and knelt. Now I was in an odd situation. Never once in my life had I knelt in front of a girl. But as I saw her lovely feet, her long legs, and the way her face looked at me with a radiant expression I felt...not at home necessarily, but that I was in a good place. The right place. I did consider it odd.

Thoughts aside, I carefully and lightly held the shoes in both hands, and slid them from her foot. Her sigh, audible, sounded pure relief. I put the heeled shoe down in front of her nightstand, and then did the same with her other shoe. That one I placed next to the first. Then I looked back up at her.

"Would you like to know a secret about women, James?" she purred.

"Yes."

"A man who can give a good - exquisite even - footrub is a man worth keeping," she smiled. Her toes wiggled inside her stockings.

Wordlessly I placed my hands on either side of her left foot. I began to press, squeeze and knead the flesh. I tilted her foot back, and ran a thumb from the heel to the ball of her foot, and repeated that several times until I got a ragged sigh from her. "Dear god that feels sooo good, James," she complimented me breathily. "Do not stop, my darling, please, do not stop."

"No, Marlene," I agreed. My hands remained quite busy, working her toes, between her toes, to the ball of her foot, the arch and heel. She rotated her foot at the ankle several times. "Don't forget the other foot," she prompted me.

The fact that I was growing somewhat uncomfortable kneeling on the hard floor was shoved way back in my head. Best not to think about that. I focused harder on her other foot, bringing to it as much pleasure and relief as I brought to the first. After another five or ten minutes of slow physical touch, she bade me to stop.

"May I stand up, Marlene?" James asked after her command. "My knees, they are hurting, especially my bad one."

"Well, yes, if only to stretch them out," she allowed. I tried to rise, but my bad knee buckled, and I nearly fell to the floor. I reached a hand out to steady myself until the sharp pain in my knee abated somewhat. Then I stood having to push myself up from the floor with my hands given the weakness in my knee. I groaned as I flexed it back and forth, and between my groans and otherwise in the silence we both heard the knee pop uncomfortably.

"That must hurt," she said.

"Yes," I said a little, now grateful that the pain seemed to be receding.

"Can you continue?" she asked.

"Oh yes, I'll be okay in a bit," I assured her.

She smiled. "Since you are standing, you might as well get comfortable. Please, remove your jacket, and hang it in the closet," she said pointing to a closet that had several empty hangers. I walked - or more accurately limped - over to the closet and took the jacket off. "And now your shirt," she said. That I unbuttoned and hung it up carefully. "Your pants, my darling, you can remove your pants now," she commanded. Once more I obeyed, and hung that article in the closet with the others.

"Return to me," she said. My leg felt better so I did not have to gimp my way over. Standing there in my tee-shirt and light gray boxer shorts I felt a little silly, embarrassed even.

She stood and turned her back to me. "Darling, please carefully lift this sweater from my body," she said. I was careful, realizing the fabric was light and soft, and that combination of light and soft probably cost more than I made in a year. I was exceedingly careful.