Found Phone Fun Pt. 01

Walker Thomas is nearly late for work, again. Standing in the lobby of the busy office tower where he is employed, he waits impatiently for the crowded elevator to clear, before boarding and ascending to his thirteenth-floor office. Something tumbling to the floor catches his eye, as the tide of people begins to change from disembarking to boarding. Walker--people often mistakenly call him Thomas Walker, instead of Walker Thomas--smoothly scoops up a cellphone off the floor just outside the elevator doors.

Stepping briskly into the crowded elevator, Walker scans the crowd, looking for a candidate for owner of the orphaned phone among the throng of people getting on, and, to a lesser degree, briefly, before the doors close, those getting off. Seeing nobody looking about in distress, he turns his attention to the phone itself. It must have just been dropped that instant, as it was still unlocked. Someone's going to be unhappy. Suddenly realizing a time-limited opportunity, Walker swiftly and expertly disables the keyboard locking feature, then casually pockets the device, leaving it until he gets settled in his own cubicle.

After briefly scanning the call history, Walker checks out the text-messaging history of the phone, and discovers that the texting is virtually all to and from a Miranda or an Andi. A quick, further survey suggests that most, if not all of the phone's business communication was done through emails. "So," Walker breathes, like someone having completed level one of a complicated strategy game, "let's see what we can glean from the text-messages." As he begins to peruse the contents, part-way through the first, cold reading of the texts, he realizes that they--Miranda and Andi--must be the same person. Mir-AN-da → Mir-AN-di → AN-di → Andi. Yesss! He congratulates himself--super-pleased he's figured that out--before he put his foot in his mouth, as it were--and fucked up the possibilities of some devious--or nefarious, if you will--fun.

Indeed, the possibilities for a wee bit o' harmless mistaken-identity correspondence-deception seem endless. Walker begins to survey the text correspondence--backwards--starting with the most recent. Andi is quite obviously the fiancée. The very last posts are them--the betrothed couple--saying good-bye.

[Andi]

See you in a week. Miss you already. Text when you can

[You]

Remember, I'll probably be incommunicado for the next several days but I'll text when I can. Love you! XXOXOXOOOX

The fiancé--Kirk or Kirkland--she seems to use those names interchangeably--has already explained that he is going out of town, on an incredibly busy--stupidly intense--flying field trip to a variety of facilities.

But Walker sees there is an earlier part to that last conversation:

[Andi]

Missed you last night ☹

[You]

Missed U 2 How was the stagette, anyway?

And with that Andi launches into a diatribe--or, probably more precisely, a serious complaint about her bachelorette bash.

[Andi]

Don't know what I was expecting, but it was something more than I got.

They took me on a bit of a pub-crawl, and made me wear a silly hat and a dumb sign. They were intent on getting me drunk, so, we all drank too much. Bunch of lightweights, though--I was still raring to go, when they all packed it in early. I actually got home before 1:00.

It was, really, rather lame--Rather lame? It was incredibly lame!

Walker doesn't even know this woman, yet he feels he can almost hear the disappointment and derision, bordering on contempt, virtually dripping through her texted words. So, he texts back--as the owner of the lost phone, Andi's fiancé:

[You]

You certainly deserve a better send-off than, it would seem, that old group of broads could manage. Keep in mind that the goal of a good stag--or staggette--should be more titillation than embarrassment; even if what is titillating is sometimes embarrassing, and what is embarrassing is sometimes titillating.

Walker can't possibly have known, but his remarks scratch at and expose hidden desires Andi doesn't even recognize as hers own. Dark fantasies she's had buried deep enough to have completely forgotten. Andi had never told anyone about the fantasies she harboured; not a soul. Never shared any details, not even the slightest hint. Not with her BFF as an adolescent, nor her closest confidante as an adult. But recollections of the salacious vignettes embarrass her. It has been an awfully long time since she has entertained any thought of them. Still, surprisingly--or maybe not so much--they had surfaced shortly after her announced engagement. Something in her realized it was almost too late, already. Even now, vaguely remembered bits bring a rush of heat to her cheeks. Surprised by the erotically vivid memories, she realizes that those dark desires aren't, perhaps, as well stowed as she had thought.

Andi assumes, of course, that it's her fiancé that she is communicating with. Still, it seems a rather odd thing for him to say; rather more socially-astute than she might have expected; however, she is so naïve, so innocent, that, if she is a bit puzzled, she isn't even the tiniest bit suspicious.

[Andi]

Where are you texting from? Thought you'd already be in the air.

[You]

Would have been. Mechanical delay. Waiting in the departure lounge in Denver. Missed connection. Got some time to play. Nudge, nudge.

He knew he was taking a bit of a chance with the 'nudge, nudge' remark, but figure most people were familiar with it by now, even if they hadn't heard of Monty Python.

[Andi]

Hang on a sec. Let me try to call.

"So far, so good, eh! But now... I gotta decide pretty quick whether to answer her call when it comes, or not. But WTF! No guts; no glory!" And Walker elects to take the gamble on being recognized--or, rather, NOT being recognized.

Before picking up, when the fiancé's cell chirps, he covers the mic with a couple layers of hankie, he tries to imitate a poor connection--weak signal distortion--crinkling cellophane for radio static. As he talks, he sporadically drops his voice to a whisper, then blows on the mic, or wanders by some noisy machine.

"Kirkland?"

With a drawn out drawl, he replies, "Yeah?"

"You all right? You sound different. Really muffled."

"Different phone. Getting cracked screen repaired," he explains, still trying to imitate weak-signal-distortion.

"When did that happen?" Andi queries, sounding just a bit puzzled.

"Dropped it, just as I was leaving. Stopped at repair shop, on the way. Got an older loaner-phone." He rushes to add, "but I'm using my own sim card."

Changing the subject, his mind going nineteen to the dozen, "Anyway," he casually asks, "can you get off work a bit early, this afternoon?" Following, a brief stop, during which he contrives to have the signal sound like it's breaking up, he says, "I wanna play a sexting game."

"Sexting? That sorta like phone sex?" Andi, chuckles, her surprise showing in her voice. The suggestion seems rather out of character for Kirk.

"Sorta. I'm going to give you a series of tasks set to get you in the mood. I wanna make up for your lame bachelorette party." Then he adds, deliberately mysteriously, "Try to be ready to start right away. We'll start with one task at a time--as soon as you're off work." Faking the static of a weak signal, he says, "'...kay? Text... off work... Bye...," and, 'click! He disconnects. "Shit! I think I actually got away with it--for the moment."

Giving his head a relieved shake, he mutters, "Nice girl, but...." He is flying by the seat of his pants, but possible tasks are already rising up in his mind. By the time Andi texts that she is just leaving her office, Walker--the false Kirkland--has a tentative plan formulated. "Omigod! You are such a scoundrel!" he silently berates himself.

[Andi]

Just left office. What now?

[You]

OK First we gotta set ground rules.

Andi thinks, "Omigod, what's come over you, Kirkland;" but something glowing in her gut, stops her from asking. "Let's just go with the flow. For the time being, at least," she whispers to herself.

And Walker, still posing as Kirkland, starts in directing an outlandish--he hopes--fantasy performance:

[You]

Of course, this all depends on the honor system.

Don't get me wrong! I absolutely trust that you'll play fair.

Still, if you'll just indulge my puerile curiosity, I'd like you to send a selfie--or some photographic evidence, moving or still--of yourself completing each task. Save and send. Just in case

Beginning to play, with the most tenuous of confidence, what he hopes will be increasingly raunchy games, Walker has only the roughest sense of where he is going with this, and how he is going to get there; still it's relatively easy to put up a self-assured front through the filter of texting.

Miranda wonders briefly about taking selfies--having no idea what she'll be taking pictures of.

[Andi]

You're not gonna share them, are you, Kirk? ☹

[You]

Of course not! I promise, they'll just remain with the two of us 😊

Walker smiles to himself, not really sure how true that statement is. Still, it satisfies Andi.

[Andi]

OK

[You]

Your first task comes in several parts. Pt 1: head to Adult Dreams, 512 Harris Road, out in the valley.

Pt 2: When you get on the freeway, carefully take your bra out from under your blouse, and undo a few buttons.

Pt 3: Bare your boobs to passing vehicles

Make sure some others get a good look

Pull over at some point and remove your panties

Pt 4: Hang them from your mirror

[Andi]

Wha...?

[You]

NO BALKING! Let yerself go. K? Are you with me?

[Andi]

K

[You]

OK LMK when U get there. You'll get yer next directions when you've got to yer first destination, and shown proof of completion of the first directions. Don't forget: selfies

"How could he know?" Miranda wonders--shocked. What he has instructed her to do is uncannily similar to an unrealized, secret fantasy she has entertained for years. She has always been fascinated with the idea of being naughty. "It is very tempting," she says to herself. "And why not? Just this once. I obviously have Kirkland's blessings, as it were." Still, Andi puzzles just a bit. It is certainly odd--odd, but oddly freeing, too--this exposing oneself in public, even at her fiancé's behest.

Realizing that Adult Dreams on Harris Road is well over half an hour away, Andi heads straight for the freeway, her mind in a kind of numbed shock. And if the solitary drive should be giving her the opportunity for calm consideration, she is far too wired in anticipation to take advantage of it.

Fortunately, the front clasp of her bra makes it easy for her to release--with one hand up under her blouse. Deftly removing it, one arm at a time, Andi, feeling very giddy, waves it out her window, giving a whoop, before tossing it onto the front passenger seat. She unbuttons the top three or four buttons with an unexplainable sense of urgency, finally pulls her boobs out, bared to the breeze, to a feeling of relief and a sigh of satisfaction.

The third part of the direction--'Bare your boobs to passing vehicles'--has awakened and aroused in Andi a long-held, long-hidden secret fantasy of daring exhibitionism; although, it seems the honk of horns in acknowledgement, indicate that--more than just a long-dormant fantasy--this is real. At that realization, the deep red blush on her cheeks intensifies. Tittering and giggling as she races along the freeway out of the city, Miranda accepts several more horn honks before she figures she'd better deal with part 4 of the directions, before she arrives at her destination.

As soon as she signals to pull into a shoulder pull-out area in a convenient lull in the traffic, her mirrors suddenly light up with a brief blue and red light-show. And wouldn't you know it? With the subtle flash of lights and a blip of the siren a highway patrol pulls up, stopping right up close to Andi's left rear corner. The officer casually saunters up along the left side of Andi's car, barely containing the amused smirk on his face. Andi is only just able to corral her bare tits and cover them adequately with the front of her blouse before the policeman arrives at her driver's door window.

"License and registration, please." When she dutifully hands the documents to him, he studies them in silence. Then, heaving a big sigh, he goes on. "Well, Miranda Brown, the reason I stopped you, is there have been some reports of indecent exposure along this part of the highway--that's flashing--and that's illegal. You haven't noticed anyone exposing themselves, anyone flashing their breasts, have you?"

Now Andi wasn't generally a liar, but at this juncture she decided that that was the better option. "No-o-o?"

"Well, okay, but keep those sweater-puppies covered, will ya? Too much of a distraction," he said handing her papers back.

Rather nonplussed, she replied as she accepted them, "Yessir officer."

"Okay. You have a good day, then."

As the cop walks back to his car Andi whips out one tit and takes her selfie with the retreating officer and his patrol car in the background. She suddenly realizes that he knows--he knows and he let her go! Go figure. The profound mortification, she felt at getting caught swiftly morphs into an intense titillation and a serious arousal.

When the cop car crosses median using the restricted U-turn lane, and heads back the other way, Andi, waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal, squirms out of her panties, and hangs them from her mirror, before merging back into traffic. She resumes flashing, if a little more discreetly. "Yes," she says to herself, "the appreciative honk of a horn, is eminently real." As is her grinning response.

The humiliation and embarrassment caused by the fist-pumping passengers of a slowly passing car, is far outweighed by the thrill generated by the tingly, erotic arousal--all of which is real, too.

Walker is cruising along the freeway, trying to get to the destination without getting a ticket. He glides by a cop car having pulled over some poor sucker, and as the traffic stop recedes in his mirror, he thought he saw the officer step back, tip his hat, and begin to walk back to his patrol car.

Although still unaware of her identity, Walker apparently beats his target to the destination. Parked across the frontage road, he observes, and soon enough a little import pulls into the otherwise empty lot of Adult Dreams. Not only that, but it looks to be the same car that he saw being stopped by the highway patrol. He sees her open her door and swing her legs out. Hard to tell from the distance, but she looks okay. She looks about, then pulls out her cell and proceeds to type.

[Andi]

I'm here. Now what?

[You]

Don't forget selfies

Walker watches as she fiddles with phone, then his phone chirps announcing the arrival of a few pictures taken in her car at a pull-out on the side of the freeway; a still of her holding her bra up while driving; and a videoclip of her shimmying out of her undies.

[You]

OK your next task--ready?

He keeps a surreptitious eye on her as she reads the next text he sends.

[You]

Buy a large black, vibrating dildo. And a remote-control vibrating egg-thing; for your pussy. Text when you leave the store.

Obviously conflicted, Andi looks around warily, from behind her open driver's door--looking around for her fiancé? Or anyone she knows? Meanwhile, Walker, resisting the urge to encourage her, takes stock of her appearance: Pretty, fair skin, tall, trim, smart business dress-suit, fairly high heels, nice looking rack, shoulder length brunette.

Eventually she rises, shoulders back in resolution, slams the car door, and enters the store. Walker can only imagine what she's doing inside: eyeing the wide variety of dildos and vibrators; of remote-controlled vibrating vaginal devices. Finally, she chooses one of each, pays and exits.

[Andi]

Outside again

[You]

Unwrap your purchases. carry them out in the open. Don't forget the selfie

[You]

Now. take new gadgets to picnic table in rest area - end of frontage rd

Being midweek, mid-afternoon, the traffic on the freeway was steady; however, on the frontage road was virtually deserted, except for a single car just leaving the gas station and pulling back onto the freeway, and, of course, Walker's car parked across from the sex shop and Andi's pulling into the rest area.

After a strategic pause, allowing her to make her way down to the park, Walker continues:

[You]

suck your vibrator/dildo blatantly to get it all lubed

Use it and fingers on pussy and clit to get yer motor runnin'

Get as close as you can without getting there

NO CHEATING: NO CUMMING! Not yet

Stop and text me when your climax is near

Sitting on the bench, knees apart, skirt flipped, furiously masturbating in full view of the highway traffic streaming by, Andi--Miranda feels very strange: very good and very bad, mixed together in equal parts; a fine blend of terribly embarrassed and wonderfully proud. She takes several selfies--face and tits and crotch; high and low angle--and texts a selection to her fiancé's phone. "Kirkland," she thinks to herself, "will be pleased--I should think--even if rather surprised.

[Andi]

OK I stopped, meanie! lol

[You]

now insert your egg. Play with remote as you go back to your car. keep yourself aroused

At the car put vibrator on seat beside you

No! Dildo on Dash Got a ring to it, eh?

use remote to stay simmering while driving

[Andi]

Where am I going?

[You]

Back toward the city for now

more directions to come

A couple times, as she drives, spasms in Andi's cunt begin to squeeze the egg out, so that she 'is forced' to flip up her skirt and reach between her legs to stuff device back in, leaving only its antenna visible. The result is more exhibitionism--more flashing in traffic. For some odd reason, Andi, on her own accord, undoes her blouse buttons, so that her boobs can accidentally fall out as she attends to her pussy insertion.

Eventually, following the directions Kirk--Walker, actually, of course--has provided, Andi leaves the freeway and motors slowly through the suburban streets until she arrives at her stated destination--the Cafe Konnoco, a somewhat up-scale café attached to a popular chain hotel.

Feeling a strange--and puzzling--reluctance, Andi gathers her gaping blouse very loosely, leaves her car, and heads for the restaurant, threatening to flash her tits with each step, as she saunters across the parking lot.

Walker's instructions are very concise: "Get a dim, back booth. Wait for further directions." Meanwhile, he has changed jackets, donned a hat, and now sits at the bar, where he can casually turn and watch Andi, or observe her in the mirror behind the barkeep.

He laughs as he thinks, but doesn't type, "As discreetly as possible...;" then, he texts:

[You]

Put your dildo on the seat, against yer thigh.

Activate egg, place remote on table, next to cell

Order latte, stay focused.

Keep yer big O on the cusp--breathe.

Time yer climax to coincide with arrival of latte.

Walker watches, with puerile fascination, his subject squirm restively, then, just as the waitress approaches, Andi stiffens and shudders, as her orgasm rips through her. Though he can't hear them speak, he can, pretty accurately, imagine the exchange. "Are you all right?" the waitress queries, as she sets down the steaming latte.

Looking up, glassy-eyed through her lashes, Andi gasps, "Oh yeah." Her body still trembling and jolting. She smiles beatifically at the waitress, then, innocently raises her coffee mug to her lips, without slopping too much. Walker sees her handling her cell, which was, he realizes, standing on its prop, presumably taking video. He observes her surreptitiously sending, as she sips coffee.