Playing Missy

"Yes," Missy managed to squeak out before shutting the door on Anne's incredulously happy look.

There was no military shower this time. Instead, Missy drew a warm bubble bath, undid her hair, set up her phone on the toilet seat, dialed it to Faith Hill and Tim McGraw, and eased herself into the tub. She luxuriated, letting the soapy water soothe away the smells of bread and coffee and perspiration and her own need for perfection. She thought about the man who had asked her out tonight, the one that Anne didn't even know existed, and wondered whether he would become her boyfriend. She hadn't had one, not really, since her freshman year in college. It was hard for her to find somebody as serious and mature as she was, somebody who wasn't intimidated by her energy and direction. As she thought about her date, she felt her muscles slowly unknotting and it seemed that she was able to really breathe for the first time today.

She over-soaped one of the new plush wash clothes she had purchased and slowly lathered her entire body. She inched herself this way and that so that she could reach every bit of skin. She ducked under the water to get her head wet and washed her hair. Once she was completely rinsed off, she unwrapped a brand-new razor and worked it slowly over her legs and under her arms, getting every single stray hair. Then she sat on the edge of the tub, spread her legs wide, and carefully worked the razor in and around her pussy lips. She used plenty of shaving lotion to prevent irritation and she made sure to cover every inch three times. She then propped a portable mirror up on the edge of the tub, bent over in front of it, spread her cheeks, and slowly completed her shaving. When she was done the entire area from her anus to her bikini line was as smooth as the day she was born.

Conscious of the fact that Princess Anne might need to use the bathroom at some point during the evening, she drained the tub and quickly patted herself dry. She applied deodorant and skin cream and then rubbed witch hazel between her legs and ass cheeks to soften her skin and prevent irritation. Swaddled in over-large, plush towels she grabbed her phone and scooted to her bedroom. She noticed that a small pot of pasta was boiling away on the stove. Next to it a chicken breast sizzled in a skillet. There was no other sign of her roomie.

Once in her own room Missy applied nail polish to fingers and toes. It was bright red, a shade she never wore because she didn't think it went well with her fair skin and dirty blonde hair, but her date had requested it and she didn't want to disappoint him. She finished her makeup, which was minimal, and dried her hair and blew it out, noticing that it curled around her shoulders and had more body than she ever remembered it having. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps she should let it fall freely more often instead of always tying it back. She liked it this way.

Her outfit was something she would never wear for a first date, but it was also by request and she wanted to please him. She slid the black, lacy thongs up her legs and into place and then snapped on the matching push-up bra. She blushed as she examined herself in the mirror, noting that her little 34 B's had never looked this large before. After a moment she smiled proudly and turned to the rest of her outfit, still laid out on the bed as she had left it. The white silk blouse slipped over her shoulders with a sensuous rustle. She had no trouble doing up the many small buttons, and she marveled over her lack of nerves. Why wasn't she anxious about meeting her date? What was it about him that put her so at ease? She couldn't answer, but she knew that she liked being so relaxed. She resolved to try to be more relaxed from now on. It was such a glorious new feeling for her!

The rest of her outfit consisted of jeans, size four petite so that they would hug the curves of her small frame. She felt the thong bisect her pussy lips and insinuate itself between her ass cheeks as she tugged on the jeans. Try as she might to adjust herself, she couldn't get them to settle in any other way. Even this didn't bother her, though, and she ended up leaving things just the way they were. She finished up by slipping on the rather extreme heels that she had purchased, just like the rest of the outfit, for this occasion. They were strappy, elegant, and barely there, showing off as much of her delicate feet as possible. In them, she stood four inches taller. She applied lipstick, the same color as her nail polish, put her cell phone, driver's license and car keys into her new clutch and strode back out into the living room to get her coat.

Anne was sitting at the table eating what looked like chicken marsala and drinking a glass of red wine. There was only one place setting, so Missy knew that her roomie wasn't having anybody over. A single lonely candle stood vigil on the table, but the television was tuned to the Yankees pregame show. The bigger girl looked up as Missy walked by and asked, "So, who's the lucky guy? Where'd you meet him? Down at the bakery or maybe the orchestra? How come I never heard about him before?"

Despite herself, Missy blushed. "Oh, he's from the University. I've kind of known him for a little while now but this is our first date," she said as she hurried past to the closet.

"Hey," Anne said in a questioning tone, "is that a new outfit...and coat, too?"

"Yes, to both" Missy said as she took the new leather jacket out of the closet and shrugged into it, zipping it up halfway and checking herself in the mirror on the inside of the closet door.

Anne tried to get up, but she could see that Missy was halfway out the door already. "Be careful, and keep your cell with you," she shouted over the sound of the door closing and Missy's fading promise to do just that.

Once outside Missy noticed that the breeze had come up and the evening was rapidly cooling. The sun had set and the streetlights were on. She walked slowly to her car, trying to get the hang of walking in such high heels, and then drove to the nearby multiplex where she was to meet her date. The parking lot was quite busy and she had no idea what kind of car he drove. As per his instructions, she parked in the outermost row, all alone, turned off her car, got out, and locked it. She unzipped her leather jacket and she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse so that the top of her bra showed. Then she leaned back against the hood of the car, legs ever so slightly spread, and waited for her date to pick her up.

While she had never met David, they had been corresponding online for several weeks. She could never have envisioned herself falling for somebody like him: more than twice her age, married, with children. But she had, and hard. At first it was his writing style and sense of humor that had drawn her in. Then it was his maturity, his sense of being in control, the stability and self-confidence his emails exuded. He was a professor at Syracuse University with a long list of published books and articles. He loved jazz and he had beaten her at online chess. He could write about politics and religion and baseball and sex with equal enthusiasm. And his pictures had simply made her melt: piercing green eyes, iron-grey hair cut short, strong jawline, kind smile, large hands.

Oh, she knew what was going on all right. The psychology of it was plain. Her own father had died in a car accident when she was fifteen. Her younger brother, OCD/ADHD, had gone off the deep end and gotten heavily involved in drugs. Her mother had spent all her time and energy on him, grateful that her daughter was always 'so good'. Missy guessed that she had just finally had enough. She didn't want to be all that good anymore.

She rolled her shoulders back, releasing tension and thrusting her breasts further out. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the jeans, her fingers fanned out and framing her crotch. As David had instructed, she made eye contact with every driver who cruised past. Some slowed to stare, others ducked down and sped up, others put their noses up or gave her dirty looks. One or two young guys stopped and rolled down their windows to shout questions or comments at her. As instructed, she told them all to fuck off. It didn't even occur to her that this could be dangerous. She knew that David was somewhere in the parking lot, observing her, and that he wouldn't let anybody hurt her.

Despite her confidence in him, David was late. Missy remained standing there against her car's hood for a half hour: twenty minutes past the time he was supposed to pick her up. The traffic in the parking lot died down as the latest round of movies got under way. The parking lot was in darkness, save for the pools of light cast by the evenly spaced light poles. One of them perfectly spotlighted Missy, who didn't move a muscle as the time slowly dragged by. She was cold, almost freezing. She wanted to zip up her jacket, but she didn't dare. David had been very clear about that, and about her blouse. Her nipples crinkled up, pushing through the soft bra and blouse, aching and obvious. Her feet hurt even worse, displayed in shoes she would never have attempted to wear before. They, too, were freezing. It seemed much colder than had been predicted, and the wind much steadier and stronger. Her eyes began to tear up and she began to wonder if he actually had stood her up, after all the preparation and all the instructions. She began to wonder how much longer she should wait. Five minutes? Ten minutes? How would she even tell? She had been told to display herself and not to move, no matter what. If she looked at her watch, that would be moving...wouldn't it?

Her dilemma was interrupted by a police cruiser that entered the parking lot. Her heart leapt to her throat as she watched it cruise past the multiplex entrance, where a few loitering teenagers quickly found someplace better to be. It took a wide loop around the parking lot and began heading in her direction. She couldn't believe it. The police were going to see her any moment now. They were going to pull up, stop, and ask what she was doing there. They'd assume she was a prostitute or something. They'd ask for her ID, maybe even take her to the station. She'd be humiliated! How would she explain? She tried to keep the squad car in sight with her peripheral vision without moving.

At the last moment a parked car not thirty feet away from her started up and its headlights slashed through the darkness. It was a large gray luxury car that Missy had assumed was empty. She now realized that it had tinted windows. It eased out of its parking spot and rolled to a stop in front of her. The passenger door swung open and she heard his voice for the first time. He said, "Get in, Missy. You must be freezing." The overhead light highlighted the interior of the car as well as his expensive trousers and strong hands on the wheel. Her heart was beating so fast that she could hardly catch her breath, but she coolly slid off her car's hood and managed not to fall as she tottered on cramped feet to his door and slid inside.

Inside the car the heat was on low, just like the jazz that was playing from the stereo, but it felt like paradise to her. The seats were black leather, soft and supple. As they slid away through the parking lot and towards the road, Missy snapped her safety belt shut and got a good look at her date for the first time in person. He looked even better than he had in his pictures. The short, iron-grey crew cut, the high cheekbones and defined jaw. He had shaved recently and there was only a trace of shadow on his neck and cheeks. Along with the expensive looking trousers he wore a sweater and dinner jacket. They only served to accentuate his large shoulders and chest. Everything about him exuded strength and confidence, even the understated cologne he wore that she couldn't quite identify.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked, without taking his eyes from the road. Of course, his voice was low and rich, soft here in the car but she could tell he would have no trouble projecting it over a packed lecture hall.

"Yes, of course," she said. "You...you're very handsome; just like your pictures." She stopped herself from staring at him and forced herself to look out the window. She was curious as to where they were going for dinner, but she had trouble concentrating on anything beyond how close he was.

"You're even more beautiful than your pictures," he said matter-of-factly. "And I'm very pleased with your outfit. I can tell you worked very hard to get everything just right."

She flushed with pleasure and pride at his compliment. "Well, you were very explicit. It was...easy to follow your instructions. I'm glad you like it."

"It's exactly as I pictured...as far as I can tell," he said. His voice was nonchalant, but the tone hardened at the end and alerted her that something was wrong. She turned back and was startled to see him watching her intently. He continued to do so for several moments, even though they were driving through traffic. His eyes were the most startling green she had ever seen. She flushed and dropped her gaze to her lap.

"Wh - what do you mean? I'm sure I got everything just as you asked," she stuttered. She fought the urge to clench her hands in her lap.

"Well, I really can't be sure, can I?" he said, the nonchalance in his tone approaching deadly levels. "At least, not as things currently stand."

The silence in the car went on and on. The mellow jazz continued to play. She could see that they were driving downtown, but no traffic noise penetrated. She fidgeted, and then reached up to unbutton two more buttons on her blouse. Her bra clearly showed now. She looked over at him, hoping that it was enough. He glanced at her briefly, disappointment showing in his face, and then looked back at the road.

Missy looked back out the window as the silence continued. Finally, she sighed, unbuckled her safety belt, scooted herself forward on the seat, and began unbuckling her belt. Once it was undone, she unbuttoned the jeans, unzipped them, and pushed them down just a bit. She opened the jeans as much as she possibly could, exposing a large swath of her black thong. Her pulse was visibly beating in the side of her pale neck.

She was so startled when the car slowed, went over a bump, and his window slid down that she almost screamed. David reached into his jacket, pulled out his wallet, and handed a twenty-dollar bill to a man standing right outside his window. Missy didn't know what to do. Whoever this stranger was, he would be able to clearly see her if he ducked down just a bit and looked into the car. She froze, pushing herself as far into the leather seat as she could go. After what seemed like an eternity the man handed some bills back to David along with a small card which David placed on the dashboard. He then closed his window and pulled into the parking lot, choosing a space toward the back.

When the car was parked and the engine shut off, David unbuckled his safety belt and turned to her. She hadn't moved. "Look," he said, in the type of voice she imagined he used with a particularly thick student, "If I have to spell every fucking detail out to you, this isn't going to work. You're not an idiot. I've told you that I can't be sure that you followed my instructions yet. Now, convince me." With that, he settled back against his door.

Missy licked her lips and hesitated for only a moment. She had been looking forward to this date for days, but this wasn't the way she imagined it would be. Still, she couldn't deny the way he made her feel. She couldn't live with herself if she disappointed him and he gave up and took her home early. She sat up in her seat, leaned forward, reached behind her back, and worked her arms out of her leather jacket. She held it indecisively for a moment, casting about for someplace to put it. She couldn't put it on the floor. It was too beautiful to go on the floor, even though the carpets were as clean as the rest of the car. That wouldn't have been right. Then she met his gaze. In it she saw the look common to good teachers and animal trainers, made up of equal parts hope and encouragement, determination and barely-concealed self-restraint.

Folding the jacket neatly, she handed it to him and said, "Your jacket...Sir." He nodded and accepted it, placing it in his lap. And why not? He had told her exactly what to buy, and sent her the money to buy it. It was his. Everything in the car was his. Missy relaxed, reached down, and undid the straps of her pumps. "Your shoes, Sir," she said as she handed them to him. She didn't even pause to watch him place them carefully on the arm rest between them. Her blouse came next, the silk rustling sensuously across her skin and raising gooseflesh down her arms. Neatly folded, she presented it to him. "Your blouse, Sir." In a moment her jeans were also folded in his lap. Then she reached behind herself and unhooked the bra. Her nipples, erect, throbbed painfully in the cooling air of the car. "Your bra, Sir." Her thong came off easily, with a lurch of her hips, but after handing it to him and proclaiming it his she did not sit back in the seat. Instead, she knelt, facing him, and said simply, "Yours, Sir." Finally, he smiled.

She was off-balance, kneeling there on the contoured seat. She gripped the back of the seat with her left hand to steady herself, and then, feeling awkward with her right hand just dangling at her side, reached up to press it against the ceiling. In that position she was leaning back ever so slightly, her breasts pushed up and forward, on display for him. Instinctively she cast her gaze down at the arm rest between them. She saw him shift, reaching for her, and held her breath.

He looked at Missy, beautiful, naked, and obedient, kneeling in the seat next to him, offering herself unconditionally to him, and he knew he had found just what he wanted. His cock was painfully erect in his pants, throbbing, hard as the steel of the car's frame. He ignored his own needs, knowing that only by concentrating on hers could he truly own her. He reached out, touching her with his index finger at the point of her jaw, just under her left ear. He heard the sudden intake of breath, felt the tension in her. She twitched, almost moving her head to cradle his hand between her shoulder and jaw, but managed to remain still. He slowly moved his finger down her jawline, feeling her smooth skin, enjoying the flush of her face, until he held her by the chin. Slowly he forced her head up until she looked him in the eyes.

"No," he said, "Don't look down, or away. Look at me." And so she held his gaze, and he held hers, as he touched the object of his desire for the first time.

He began by sitting forward a bit and tracing his fingers along the muscles of her neck and upper arms in a leisurely fashion. His touch moved down her forearms, and across the backs of her hands. Wherever they went, his fingertips sent chills through her. From her hands his fingers moved to her sides and up, under her armpits, where she found herself blushing even more furiously at the intimacy of his touching such an unexpected part of her body. He massaged her armpits for a moment, still holding her gaze with his own, before moving his fingers down her sides and tracing her ribs. She exerted every bit of control she had not to flinch or giggle, for although she wasn't terribly ticklish, she was nearly overcome with tension and emotion.

From her sides he moved his hands up to her breasts, his fingers supporting their slight weight while his thumbs circled slowly around her engorged nipples. They were so erect that they had taken on the size and color of cherry pits. When his thumbs finally found them, he traced them so lightly and gently that she had to fight to stifle a sigh. She was so turned on by this, looking only into his beautiful green eyes while his hands roamed everywhere on her body, that her juices were running freely down her thighs. Then he caught her nipples by his thumbs and forefingers and pinched, pulling them toward him. She moaned, her gaze wavered and she almost looked away. The pain and pleasure stabbed through the center of her breasts, and she realized how perfectly the two went together. She wanted him then, right then, had to have him or she'd explode, but still she knelt and still she held his gaze. She knew it wasn't her choice at all.