Permission Ch. 02

Ch. 2 -- Sex with class

When I got to the station, the limo driver had bad news. Sean wouldn't be in for a little while. He'd been delayed at the movie shoot, and was on his way by helicopter. Meanwhile, we headed for the estate of Sean's producer friend. It was huge, and beautiful, like something in Architectural Digest. The driver had the key and showed me my room, and s we got to it, his cell phone rang. Sean was arriving at the helipad soon, and the driver left me alone and headed out to pick up his boss.

And I quickly looked in the drawers for a clean pair of panties. I couldn't believe what I found. There were a dozen pair of panties of many varieties, filmy silk and lace in white and pastels; bras to match, patterned and superfine panty hose and thigh highs in black, white, pink and other shades, camisoles and teddies. It was as if I was there for a month instead of two nights.

I picked out a white silk pair trimmed in delicate lace, top and bottom, in a bikini style, and slipped them on. And before I could look around any more, I heard the limo come up the gravel drive. My heart started to pound like a conga drum. I somehow gathered myself, and headed down toward the main entrance.

His first words when he came in, alone, were, "Good evening, Angelina, I bet you're hungry." I hadn't stopped to realize it, but I was starving, and told him so. "Well, food will be here in a few minutes." I figured he'd sent out for Chinese or pizza, or something.

Then he came up to me and wrapped me in a big, warm hug, and kissed me on the forehead, like an uncle, for God's sake. "Tony said when he met you at the train, you seemed a bit agitated. I hope the trip went all right." I kind of looked down, and he picked up on it. Come here and sit down, and tell me what happened. He led me to a long couch, and sat me at the far end. Then he sat at the other end and turned to look at me.

I took a deep breath, and gave him a brief summary of what had happened, leaving out that I had been dreaming about him. I just told him that hunger sometimes makes me lightheaded, and together with the train's vibrations, it had started me going. I did mention how wet I got, because it explained what I did with the guy's sweater.

Sean had this huge grin, and he was leaning forward. "That's marvelous," he said. "Shows you can think fast and take care of youself. I like that. But are you still wearing those undies?"

"Oh, no," I said, and told him about the zip lock bag and how I'd picked out a fresh pair as soon as I'd arrived here.

"I want you to do something for me, then. I want you to go and get that zip lock bag for me. It will be a little souvenir."

I'm afraid this caused one of my infamous blushes, but I got up, went up to my room and got the bag. After all, it was a small thing. When I handed it to him, he looked me right in the eye and opened it immediately and delicately lifted out my pink silk bikini panties. Then he brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply, as he fingered the large, dark wet spot. "My God, you little miracle. This almost makes me want to go against a decision I'd made before coming out here. But I'll tell you more over dinner. I hear the caterers coming up the drive. Right now, I'd like you to go into that room." He pointed to a door to my left. "It's the club room. I'll call you when they've gone. To protect both your privacy and mine, I want no one not directly in my employ to see your face while you're with me."

I went through the door, and a light came on automatically. It was like a little nightclub, but with couches and love seats and easy chairs facing the small stage instead of regular seats. And there was a piano, and statues like old Roman ones on the ends of the stage -- a female and a male nude. I couldn't believe how these rich people live.

Before I knew it, Sean was at the door, and said, "Dinner is served." And he led me to another room, with an enormous table. But it was set only at one end, with fine china and silver, crystal glasses, a cut glass pitcher full of what I guessed was ice water and a huge platter with two of the largest lobsters I'd ever seen. There were other dishes with veggies and sauces, and, in an ice bucket to the right of the seat that Sean took after holding my chair for me, a bottle of white wine.

"How did you know I love lobster." He gave me his world-famous devilish grin. And I said, "OK, that famous research again. Well, I am starved."

"The claws and shell are already cracked, and your bib is beside you. Would you like some wine? I selected a..." and he gave a name and year, but I'm afraid I don't recall them. All I know is that I had two glasses, and you know that's a lot for me, and it was the perfect wine, the perfect lobster. The perfect dinner. Sean had suggested that I savor the food and wine, but not gorge myself. It was, after all, getting late for a heavy meal. And he was, of course, right.

Meanwhile, we talked very little through dinner. Sean did most of it, exlaining that decision. '"You see, my little miracle, a man in my position finds that he can pretty much fuck when he pleases. I much prefer to make love. But I find that I cannot properly make love to a woman that I do not know well enough. So I don't know yet whether that's where either of us will really want this weekend to lead. What I do know is that I will not let it happen tonight. Tonight, for what time we have before we both pass out, we will talk. I want you to tell me about yourself, your children, Paul and your life. And I want you to feel free to ask me about who I really am. That's why, when we sat down, it was at opposite ends of the couch.

"But I must say, that incident with your panties and the sexy odor trapped in that bag, nearly made me forget myself, You can be one desirable woman."

And then we rose from the table. And Sean asked me to help him with the dishes. Was that a shock! Until he grabbed two corners of the fine linen table cloth, and pointed to the corners on my side, saying, "Grab those." Then I lifted the corners to Sean, he grabbed them, and with a clatter, pulled it all, dishes, leftovers and silver into a giant bundle. He then gathered the corners and tied them, and lifted the whole thing, carried it to the back entrance and put it outside. "The caterers will come very quietly in the wee hours and whisk this away. Isn't money wonderful?"

Then we moved back to the couch, and talked for a couple of hours. Very personal, very warm, but not even remotely sexual. Sean asked most of the questions and he did ask about you, Paul. He told me that if you hadn't been clear about your agreement and had a good reason for it, he'd never have even spoken to me that night. He told me that he blamed his own inability to give a woman enough attention for the failures of both of his marriages, and he talked about his disabled son, who he dearly loves. He asked most of the questions, but I was still shy, and the food and wine were making me very sleepy, so I'm afraid my answers were very short. So, mostly, we talked about Sean. Then he said, "You know, as usual I'm talking about myself. But just being here with you is making me comfortable with you. Now, though, I can see you're fighting the wine. You'll find a fine nightie in your closet and all the toiletries you'll need are in the bathroom next to your room. Let me walk you upstairs." And he did. At the door, he kissed me very lightly, this time on the cheek, and said goodnight. And that was it.

* * * * *

Next morning, when I finally had to get out of bed and pee, the room was still dark. I didn't get it, till I realized it was the heavy drapes. I went to the bathroom, and there was a little clock on the vanity: 11:45! Oh my God, what must he think of me. He was too much of a gentleman to wake me. Wake me, my Sean, wake me!

But what do I put on? I opened the drapes a bit for my first actual view from the window. Nothing but miles of forest. No roads in sight, and the house was apparently on a hill. There were no casual clothes, only lingerie and a big, fluffy terry cloth robe, four incredible bikinis, each one more daring than the other, and two exquisite dancing frocks. Then I noticed a note pinned to one of the frocks. It was signed by Sean, and he apologized that they weren't the designer originals he'd originally thought of but just a couple picked out by a friend at a very trendy downtown boutique. He said that he'd realized that if he'd gotten designer dresses and shoes, I wouldn't be able to wear them again, because my friends would wonder how I could possibly afford them. I guess he didn't realize that, in our pay bracket, they'd wonder about these, too, but who cares -- let them. And on the floor were a pair of snugly slippers and three pairs of sexy, strappy open toed high heels that wouldn't be all that easy to dance in. But I'd manage.

I put on a matching white lace bra and all lace panties, without even a pad in the crotch, put on the slippers and the robe and went out to find Sean.

He was nowhere in sight. I didn't dare wake him, and I wasn't even sure which room was his, there were so many, but I expected him to be waiting anxiously for me. No Sean. The last place I looked, after even checking the back entrance and yard, was the kitchen. I was getting hungry again. There, on the fridge, was a long note. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I got a call very early this morning to come to town and do a few re-shoots of scenes we did this week. I am on contract, after all. I will be back ASAP, probably by mid afternoon. Meanwhile, there's brunch for you in the fridge. Enjoy the house, and the pool if you wish. You get there by continuing through the club room. It's indoors, but there's a connected atrium where you can get some sun before or after. Gotta go. See you soon. Sean."

I don't mind admitting I was devastated. Not even a "Love, Sean." I decided I'd bored him last night, or maybe the story of the train had actually turned him off, but he'd been being nice to me. While I prepared Belgian waffles from the fresh mix and fresh bowls of fruit in the fridge, using the waffle maker on the counter, I was actually tearing up. And I remembered that he made it clear that he didn't "make love" with just anybody, but had to know them first. I guessed it just wasn't going to happen.

So I consoled myself by remembering that this was Sean Faulkner, and we had already spent hours together over a wonderful meal and afterward, and that was, after all, far more than I'd ever really expected possible as recently as two weeks ago. Oh well...

After brunch, I was too down to think about the pool. guess I was still really feeling sorry for myself, and it was getting later and later. i'd put on the TV in the big room, and fiddled with these weird contro;s until I got some Lifetime movie or other. Even the TV was odd, because I later discovered the hous didn'y have cable, but two different satellite services. And this movie, about a woman cheating on her husband, wasn't making me feel any better. Stop, Paul [I was about to interrupt her], I know you said it was OK, but that doesn'yt mean I didn't have my own doubts. Anyway, I sat around vegging out, still in the fluffy robe and undies. I'd given up by 3:30, and was looking around for some more of that wine.

* * * * *

Then I heard the door open up. I was so down that I actually expected it to be Tony, the limo guy, with instructions to collect my stuff and get ready to head for home. So I didn't go to the door.

Then, suddenly, I felt his arms around me from behind. "I'm so sorry, my little angel. Couldn't be avoided. But I promise you have my undivided attention from now on. Now turn around and let me see that face."

I didn't want to, but I did. "Oh, Angelina, you've been crying."

"I thought you weren't coming back," I said, and I'm afraid I started to cry again.

"You flatter me too much. How could I walk away from someone so special? Did you at least have a swim? What have you been up to?"

I answered simply, with my head down. I didn't want him to look at me. I knew I was a mess. Teary face, no makeup and my hair all mussed. I begged him to let me shower and change.

"Of course, little one. Take whatever time you need, and when you come back down, I want you to be wearing one of the dancing frocks my buyer picked out for you. We're going to continue what we started at that dinner last week." I'm afraid I was weeping openly by now, but this time with happiness. It still might happen!

* * * * *

I was so conflicted. I wanted, finally, to be with Sean, but I know myself well enough to know that I'd better slow down. And there was no way I'd let him see me in such a mess again. So I went up and took a long bath in the sweetest bath salts I've ever used. I wanted to at least start the evening squeaky clean everywhere. Then I did my hair and put on understated but just right makeup for dance light, in front of the perfect makeup mirror in my huge bathroom.

Then it was time to dress, and that wasn't as hard as it usually is for me. After all, there were only two little dresses, and only one was the length I wanted: short enough to swing up when I twirled, but not so short that I looked slutty. It was a gorgeous bluebird silk, with a kind of scoop neck in front and back that would fall away if I leaned. The bottom was so smooth and flowing that whenever I turned, it would spin out a bit. And there was, like, a wide cutout below my bodice that exposed my belly down to maybe an inch or two above my panties. And the only thing keeping the cutout closed was the absolutely perfect fit.

For undies, I chose a very pale blue chantilly lace underwire demi bra and matching thong by Chantelle. The bra was just low enough that the top edges of my nipples peeped over the lace, but it hardly mattered, because both bra and thong were such a fine lace that they were basically transparent. And the little thong, instead of a usual T top, had a little zigzag blue lace in a V cutout where the to string met the vertical one. The final touch was a pair of very, very fine thigh high black stockings with a wide band of lace at the tops. I liked the contrast of the black with the blue dress.

When I checked myself out in the mirror, believe it or not I thought, Man I wish Paul could see me like this. But then, I realized that you will. You certainly will. Then I looked again and decided that maybe I was being a bit too aggressive for this so-classy man. Dancing or leaning, too much might show, and I didn't want to look cheap. Fortunately, whoever bought the lingerie must have thought like me, and there was a solution. I found a darker, but matching blue cropped cami by Cosabella, which was short enough so that it didn't show in the cutout, but did give me a little modesty when I leaned forward. And there was a matched La Perla Sky Doll lace culotte boy short that I slipped over the string.

Now, a few dabs of the ridiculously expensive Pure Turquoise perfume by Ralph Lauren that was on my dresser and I was ready to see Sean again, to dance, and I hoped...

* * * * *

This time, Sean was waiting for me. he stood up from the couch and just didn.t move as I approached. A grin spread across his face and, before I came too close, he took two quick strides to me, surrounded me in a huge hug, and whispered in my ear, "I have never seen anyone more beautiful." Then he pulled his face away from mine again and just stared at my face. And before I knew it, we were kissing. On the lips. OK, no tongue, but Sean Faulkner was kissing me on the lips and he really thought I looked beautiful. I could've floated away.

I could've and would've done about anything else right then, but wouldn't you know, dinner time was here again, and he was leading me back to that big table. This time it was a lighter meal, pasta primavera with a red wine, and neither of us dawdled over our food. I had my usual two glasses of this excellent wine, but this time, Sean said no. He said that he'd been working all day, and was afraid the red would make him drowsy. "Getting old, you know," he winked. I realized soon that he had another reason to avoid wine.

We bundled up the tablecloth and put it out, and it was already 7:30. Twenty four hours in Sean's home, and so far nothing I couldn't have had my daughters along for. But at this point, Sean took my hand, and said, "Now, what about that dance?" And he led me to the club room.

As we entered, indirect lights came on. Most of the room was dark, but there was excellent lighting on the dance floor and soft lights on the nearest seats. And music was coming from somewhere. Sean took me right to the slightly raised dance floor and we started to dance. He must have programmed it, because there were continuous medium, then slower songs, and Sean was an excellent dancer.

Little by little, he held me closer, and in a few short songs, my head was on his shoulder in a very slow number, and his hands surrounded me. The hand on my back, I realized, was moving up and down, lightly stroking my lower back. His other hand was on the almost bare skin at my shoulder. Then the first hand dropped slowly lower, until it rested on the upper slope of my bottom. He said, "You're very firm." And before I could think to say anything, the other hand had slipped the spaghetti strap of my dress off my shoulder, and he was kissing it. My knees buckled. But before I could fall, his lower hand pressed me closer, and he said, "The wine?'

I looked into his eyes. "No, the man." I knew other, more intimate parts of me must also be reacting, but I just danced and enjoyed the moment. That's when he slipped off the other dress strap, and it dropped to my waist, followed quickly by his mouth, kissing the very top slopes of my breasts. But rather than stay there, Sean pulled me close again and move back up to kiss my lips. This time, his tongue slid between my lips, and I sucked on it greedily. As the song says, "i could have danced all night" Except that dancing like this was getting more and more erotic.

To my surprise, Sean now stood back and looked me up and down. "I think I've danced enough," he said. I absentmindedly pulled the spaghetti straps back up and was about to leave the floor with him. "No, Cupcakes, I've danced enough, but I'd like you to stay here." I stood, confused, as Sean walked to the couch and poured ghimself a glass of water. "Want Some?"

I shook my head. The musc was still on, and, high as I felt, I was still swaying. But I wasn't too far gone to notice Sean sneak something with his water. He took a little blue pill! And boy, did that send me a bunch of messages.

"Angelina, I want you to dance for me. I already know you as a person, Now I want you to make me one hundred per cent sure that what we're both thinking of doing is what we really want. Dance for me, and show me that special side of yourself that other men don't get to know." And he took off his jacket and tie and slipped off his shoes and sat down in a great big easy chair with wide, soft arms. Then he pushed a button beside him, and a row of mirrors dropped behind the seats, so that now I was looking at what he was looking at. "Dance for me, Angel, but dance for yourself as well. I want you to watch yourself dance in the mirrors."

Then, somehow, he made the music change. Something very familiar came on -- something you played for me way back when we were dating. Remember Bolero? That's what I danced to, and I wasn't about to tell him that my husband had had the idea years before him.

* * * * *

Now, Paul, you know that I'm not completely inexperienced with stripping, but this was different. At first, i just swayed and moved with the music. Then I slid those dress straps back off and let the top drop. The cut held it at my waist, so there I was in skirt and black thigh highs, my blue camisole leaving only my shoulders and belly bare. I began to flip the bottom of the cami up and down and slide the palms of my hands across my belly. Then I quickly slid one hand all the way into the top of my skirt and stood there still, my pelvis thrust forward, so the drape of the skirt would show my hand moving beneath it, at my crotch. Then I slid that hand back up my belly and across my chest, and put two fingers in my mouth smiling at Sean.