tagMind ControlGame of Love Ch. 04

Game of Love Ch. 04


by Prof. Richard W.

(formerly of the University of ____________)

Chapter 4 - Buttoning up the loose ends

"Remember my colleague, Monique? She took me on a tour of some interesting places while we were in Macao." I told Sophia how I had learned that top ranked Macao gigolos had pleased upper crust Englishwomen over for casino fun from Hong Kong, even when they had discharged their masculine duties over and over. Sophia sat closer to the edge of her chair as I described the next moments.


"You feel like closing your eyes, don't you?" I whispered to Fawn.

"Yes," she smiled, trying it. I continued my caresses in rhythym with her heartbeat. My fingers coated her clitoris and her opening with my now flooding fluid.

"You can feel the sun warming your body, yes?" It was shining strongly in through the open curtains now. She agreed.

My fingers glided more and more quickly on their silvery path, taking with them her heartbeat-- faster and faster. Her breathing grew deeper and deeper, moving her breasts beautifully under my kisses.

"Everything about this now is so natural... yes? I'll stop while you think about that." I paused and she murmured her acceptance of that, followed by an insistent push of her thighs.

She agreed with each of my suggestions now, as I took her deeper and deeper into a sexual trance. I felt amazingly clear-headed myself, excited by putting into action something that I had only half-believed, even when Henrique had demonstrated it with Monique in our late-night get together in his Macao casino.

I remembered now how she had insisted afterward that he had penetrated her-- she had even blushed a bit as she described how handsomely hung he was. She remembered how wonderful it was to look down and see him disappearing inside her. Yet, I had watched him lead her to a shattering climax with only his touch and whispered trancewords.

Knowing of my scholarly interest, he was such a master of this skill that he was able to make small comments to me about the process as he took my colleague into an inner ecstasy while he remained fully dressed. Footnotes had never seemed so sexy in academia!

It was as though Henrique was guiding me now. I felt his calming presence as I led Fawn toward her special orgasm, even as I found myself feeling a bit awed at the events that were coming.

"Now!" I heard Henrique saying, and I repeated the words. "Look up at the beautiful sun-- it's filtered through the trees-- it's perfectly safe-- and open your eyes." I remembered how odd that had seemed at the time, surely opening her eyes would break even a sexual trance.

But, of course, distracted back then by Monique's stunning transformation from pleasantly plain colleague to stunning sex goddess, I had forgotten that one cannot open one's eyes while looking up.

"I can't!" Fawn's cry now merged with Monique's from my memory.

"You will find that there is a way that will open your eyes..." I found myself repeating Henrique's words, without the accent. In simple language, as he had with Monique, I drew out Fawn's understanding that only in a scorching orgasm, achieved with my handsomely huge penis deep inside her now-- I could not resist the tall tale-- could she open her eyes again. I was in her now, I told her. She wanted that anyway, and now this was the path to bliss. I cradled her on my lap, and my two fingers descended into her, almost with a will of their own, slipping back and forth to her G-spot.

With a wonderful shriek, Fawn reached her goal and tumbled into the end zone. Her eyes were opened metaphorically as she did so, as she understood that relaxing and accepting my suggestions had brought her to this highpoint.

"That bitch was wrong," she whispered hoarsely, as she stretched out her tired limbs. She glowed, glistened.

"You mean Sherrie? How do you mean?" I inquired, eyebrow raised.

"You were wonderful. I've never had a man like you in me before. I can still feel it. You almost reached my heart. I'm so sticky, but it's just soooo good!" She was bubbling over, sounding girlish again, even as she relished the thought of my imaginary cum being as deep in her being as it could go. My tardy penis was only now starting to show signs of interest, but she took this as a desire for a follow-up.

"Gee, Professor... I'm running out of time. I'd love to do it again right now, but I've got to get home and fix lunch for my dad. But first I need to make a phone call. Would you grab my purse for me?" I found her purse on the floor where she had dropped it. Her sudden matter-of-fact tone sounded strange, almost intentionally offensive.

She reached in the purse and pulled out a cell phone. The battery was dead.

"Damn! I was supposed to use this one. Can I use your phone?" I waved agreement, pointing at the hotel extension. She punched in the number from memory.

Fawn leaned over me to the phone, oblivious to the effect her body was having on mine. My penis firmed up to full strength under her warm tummy, and she did not seem to notice.

"Hello.... yes, we did it..... oh yes, it was wonderful. Yes, I understand. 6-9-1-7-c-a." She said all this in a monotone, and then hung up.

"Who was that?" I queried.

"Uh, a friend. She wanted to know how things went for us."

So, I thought, Fawn has completed something that she was sent to do.

That image was conveyed even more completely as I helped her find her clothing. She dressed with complete nonchalance, as if I was not there. For that matter, as if my hard staff pointed in her direction was invisible.

The olive cutie turned to speak to me, pausing as she struggled to get her tight tube top back over her tender breasts without irritating the mild whisker burns on them.

"If you'd like to see me again, just call me --" and she gave me a Reno number -- "and tell me that you are 6917ca." She said this in a tone that reverted to sexy for just long enough to say it. Then she turned vacant again.

"Hey, I'd like to come by and have coffee with you again some time," she said, in a tone that conveyed the unlikelihod of that happening, and did not follow logically from what she had just said. And then she grabbed her purse and left.

I popped the casino surveillance videotape into the vcr again, and let myself be the one to sigh this time, as housewife Susannah again took her lineman's beautiful hardness into her welcoming lips.


"I suppose I should be mad," Sophia opined. She let her robe drop open, suggesting the opposite feeling. As you will imagine, telling this story again had the effect that she expected.

"How did that Macao technique go again?" she laughed. "No, really, I want to try it... after I take care of this!" And she plucked playfully at my swaying penis.

Now, my thoughts focused on meeting our urgent needs. For a moment, I began to think about the strange solution to this case, and the way in which the phone call gave Sherrie and I the missing piece of the puzzle, but that faded out. Wonderful hormones filled my brain, and as you will understand as you read this, rational thinking was the last thing on my mind. Sophia raised her hips, thrusting her mound upward at me, quivering with the thoughts of the kisses to come-- I descended hungrily into her.


Other things came up, and it was not until the next night, after coffee at Dixon's, that I was able to resume the story for Sophia. It was kind of a quiet night, and we were in one of the back booths. We were not far from the hotel, so we could have another glass of wine and still plan on strolling home to our suite. Other diners had eaten and gone.

I was glad she was in a good mood, because the next part of the story had another twist. By now, we knew each other well enough to know that if my story made sense, just listening to it was stimulating, and she could let her mind take it all in so deeply, like music, that it became a part of her. If it was too complex, she would sit there with her businesswoman's brain cells turned on, and I felt like I was defending a doctoral thesis, with her as the whole panel.


I made a couple of other investigatory phone calls from my Reno hotel room, but got no results. I did, however, get the phone number from the hotel's records -- the phone number that Fawn had called when her cell phone battery was dead. It had occurred to me that Sherrie, if she was still speaking with me, would be able to look this up. I called the investigator's pager number.

It was shortly after lunch when she returned my call. I could hear office noises in the background. She had gone into work, after our wild night!

"You're very dedicated!" I teased.

"You put a lot into what you do, too," she responded. I was at once relieved to hear the pleasure in her voice, and at the same time, unable to keep from flashing back to thoroughly unprofessional thoughts of her gold necklace swinging with our rhythym between the black towers of her breasts.

"Uh, I need to ask some serious questions," I added. I finally learned why her agency was investigating. It was to protect Family Values, just as we had seen on television! It seems that the casino industry was trying to edge away from its traditional image as being just one step away from organized crime. An outside firm, trying to break into the gaming industry with sex as a lure at any higher level than the Disney version had to be crushed.

We traded information on what I had found, and what she had learned this morning. Most interestingly, she had discovered another person who was working on the Casino de Amour questions. An acquaintance of hers was a journalist for a weekly paper in the area.

"Yeah, it's mostly ads," Sherrie admitted when I balked at the idea of involving someone from that paper. "But, they carry one or two long stories a week, and she usually trades off writing them with another woman. Sometimes she illustrates them, or does the photos. And, get this, she writes an advice column and a horoscope for the readers, too!"

"That sounds like small town stuff. But I thought that those features usually came from some out of town syndicate?" I challenged the investigator in her.

"Believe me, she does everything. But she also has some ways of getting information that you may not have thought of." She lowered her voice, reminding me that she was in an open office.

"Like, can you get that Fawn creature to join you again?" She paused and then laughed at her accidental pun. "On second thought, I don't like the idea of her joining you, how about just having her meet us again."


Sherrie filled me in on the details, and I rang Fawn's number. Luckily, she was in-- I did not know if she would return a call from me. "Hi, this is Professor Richard.... and she cut me off before I could finish.

"Yes, I remember... you're the guy who thought we shouldn't see each other again." Her voice sounded hard. Did she even remember what we had done in my hotel room, or did she just remember me telling her earlier that we should not see each other again? I repeated the code number to her: 6-9-1-7-c-a.

It was like a light bulb had turned on. A very hot light bulb.

"Yessss, Professor..." she whispered eagerly. "My father is home right now, but what can we work out for later?"

"Do you think that you could sneak out of the house at about midnight?"

I held my breath, wondering if Sherrie's and my scheme would work, or whether she would resist the idea.

"That would be fine. He likes to have a drink before bed, and I mix it for him. It might be a double tonight." I was impressed.

"Have you done this before?" taking a chance, I pressed her.

"Yes!" She giggled. "When I had a boyfriend here, we snuck out on Dad a couple of times."


Ten minutes to midnight, and Sherrie and I were in her car, waiting outside the modest Ramirez family home. The lights in the house went out one by one, and then we saw Fawn slipping silently out through the front door. It was midnight, and she was in the car. Sherrie tried not to notice Fawn's desire to hold my hand, nor to notice that her simple white blouse covered no bra.

We drove through streets that I did not recognize, out to a ranch-style home on a ridge overlooking the desert.

"Professor, it's so beautiful, let's do it right here, under the stars!"

Fawn seemed to have only one thing on her mind. Sherrie winced.

"There's rocks and sagebrush on the ground here," she sputtered. "Go ahead, girl!" As an afterthought, she cleared her throat and added,

"Snakes, too. At least one of the two-legged kind."

Fawn looked hurt, but she did change her mind and decided not to take me right there. I rolled my eyes at Sherrie, and said nothing. We were at the door of the ranch house, waiting in the pool of light on the porch while Sherrie rang the bell. Fawn shifted her weight from side to side, trying to ease the pressure from what was likely becoming a very wound up body.

"Whatever they did for you, girl, it was awful good!" Sherry did an Aunt Jemima accent that would have been horribly incorrect if any of the rest of us had tried that. She gave a maternal looking stare at eager Fawn. "Do you think it's catching?" She added that in a mock-wistful tone.

The door came open as Sherrie and I doubled over laughing. We straightened up abruptly, like sheepish students caught doing something behind the teacher's back.


I do not know what I was expecting, but the full-figured woman who came to the door was not it. I suppose that I had been expecting someone slight, worried looking, perhaps smoking a cigarette.

The woman who answered the door had been swimming, was still in her bathing suit, with a towel over her shoulder. She was still trying to dry herself off as she welcomed us. Her glistening skin added to the powerful feeling of life that emanated from her.

Afterwards, Sherrie told her "... it sort of makes me blush, but... there you were in a leopard print two-piece suit with a shell necklace. You were magnificent, sexy, sensual, powerful... and I honestly felt diminished in your presence. I wanted to cover my flesh because you were (and are) my ideal! I could not believe how beautiful you were. It was almost as if the Goddess had put a spotlight on you and the rest of us faded away into shadows." And, when Sherrie said something like that, she meant it, as she was very aware-- in a positive way-- of her own attractiveness, and also very relaxed with the aging process. I also noticed that she had dropped the teasing Black accent, and resumed her normal polished tone.

But, I am getting ahead of myself about afterwards. Now, I saw that the lady of the house was a large woman with honey blonde hair touched liberally with grey. Later on, Fawn described it as "...haloed with grey, since most of it was in the front like she frosted it herself. It was below shoulder length -- about two or three inches and still growing. I'll bet she lets it hang free because she likes the way it feels -- very sensuous." Fawn should know by now about feeling sensuous. She had blue/green eyes, wore no makeup, and her best feature, it turned out, was a throaty, lusty laugh. On her wrist was an unusual bracelet featuring swirling bright colors, which we later learned, she had made herself.

"You must be Fawn!" She greeted all three of us, but made a special point of welcoming our sex-driven walking clue to the Casino de Amour mysteries. Fawn seemed flattered by the attention, perhaps because we had each given her a rough time in some ways. I noticed that she seemed to relax in Leona's gaze. Leona, we learned, was our hostess' name.

It was interesting to note that as Fawn relaxed, she actually became sexier. She still was feeling the effects of whatever the Casino's prize crew had done for her, but now, as she achieved a rapport with calm Leona, she slowed down. If the past tense of slink would be slank, that was how she moved.

"I guess we only have a few hours tonight, Fawn," Leona murmured as she showed us in, "so why don't you bring your friends along with us, down this long hall, into a place where you, as you may already be imagining... you can relax and share your important thoughts with us.

"Everyone is so busy, you have so many important things to do, but your subconscious remembers everything important, don't you think so?"

By the time we reached a door with a whimsically installed sign that read "cathouse" I was quite impressed. Fawn was sleep-walking, having gone into a trance as we walked along the hall.

Fawn slank into the room, and easily swung, as suggested by our hostess, onto a huge waterbed that dominated the boudoir. A look of utter peace crossed her face as Leona slipped a robe over her swimsuit and completed testing the depth of the young woman's trance, all in a seemingly seamless series of motions.

"You will find it so convenient to rest here for a while, and as I talk with your friends, our words will seem like the murmur of the beautiful stream that you hear outside... they will help you to relax even more."

She touched Fawn gently, and watched her eyes close, then turned to us. Sherrie and I explained the background of what we had learned about the Casino de Amour and about its ability to market to the sexual or romantic desires of its clientele. As we covered the details, it was hard not to look around at the amazing furnishings of this room.

Above the waterbed was a small rose-etched mirror and shelves on which Leona had placed a few of what we learned were her own erotic sculptures. The bed had red satin sheets and a velvet quilt. There were books everywhere. At the bedside there was a lamp with a red satin shade-- the base was an embracing nude couple. He was...uh...shall we say, ready? She was voluptuous with long reddish hair. On the wall was a huge gold-framed (with red velvet insets) beautiful print of a couple making love, by Betty Dodson. In the corner was an oak cabinet holding a tv and vcr.


"Just a minute!" Sophia interjected. "What kind of place was this again?" "It was her house, just decorated a bit differently than you might go for..." I raised an eyebrow. "And she used the setting very effectively." "I'm sure she did!"

"Uh, no, not that way. She used it very effectively with Fawn," I clarified.


I thought to myself that this was truly a kind of place that I never had imagined really existed. It was fun to try to remember the different boudoirs that I had entered through the years, but as all of the co-eds who had me were nice girls, just making it a naughty exception with me, their rooms reflected that. Female colleagues and faculty wives had developed wonderful varieties of taste in decor, often showing something about the travels or wandering life of their earlier academic career. It was clear that even the most casually-worded invitation to join them had been anticipated, and their nest was prepared carefully for our lovemaking. This room was always ready and willing.

Leona began to describe things in the room to the entranced Fawn, as Sherrie and I looked at each other quizzicaly.

"Directly ahead of me (to the right of the oak cabinet) is a jewelry chest with an inlaid, huge music box on it and above it is a boudoir portrait of me taken some years ago. In the far corner is a floor to ceiling mirror on a pole." Fawn murmured acknowledgement. Sherrie and I could not see the design on the music box, because of the angle that we saw the box from.

"The wall behind the bed is smoked mirror squares with gold streaks (I did it myself) edged in wonderfully gaudy golden framing (like a picture frame). There are two big brass hanging lamps with tassels.

"The right side of the bed, the whole wall is heavy red velvet drapes (swagged on top) which hide a sliding glass door which leads to my sunroom where my studio/workshop and hot tub are. The view from there is incredible -- huge, grand old oak trees and rolling hills, with an occasional sheep or two, a steam meanders quite a ways down. A door from there leads out to the pool which has a waterfall. there's a bench under the waterfall to sit on... can you picture all that?"

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