Pleasure in Control Ch. 07

"Those who can stay can enjoy some more food and drinks. Our Sales Demonstrators who modelled our new clothes so well this evening (more applause) will be here to give you a more private and personal insight into the new range of Passionella bodystockings. Thank you all for coming."

After the show I chatted politely to some of the other guests, several of whom soon made their apologies and left. Charlotte was by the door to give out small 'goodie-bags' that contained the survey form, a thank-you note personally signed by Linda, a small bottle of perfume, a skimpy diamante-decorated G-string and some luxury chocolates carrying the Pouting Lips logo. She also swiped each lady's Passionella card. I wondered what this evening cost them.

I had just reached for a glass of champagne and started to talk with an older but very elegant lady when a hand grasped me by my left arm. It was Fiona. "Hello. Ladies. Did you enjoy the show?"

The elegant lady said she'd enjoyed it immensely and would definitely be buying one of the more modest designs. She said she wouldn't be trying on anything tonight but would make an appointment with her usual Dem at her favourite store, which seems to be Regent Street. Fiona apologised "There's no-one from the Regent St store here this evening but I will make sure you are invited along for a personal viewing." Elegant Lady departed, leaving Fiona and I together.

"Julia," she commenced, "I owe you an apology too. I was a little rude to you when we met in the store this morning. I was having a bad day and had a lot to do before the show. I was actually on my break when you caught me."

"Fiona, thanks. I had forgotten all about it" I replied.

"Oh, by the way, the dress looks wonderful on you this evening. Your judgement was impeccable."

Fiona then dropped her voice. "Julia, I'd like to try to make amends, in another way."

"What exactly do you have in mind?" I enquired.

"I'd like you to join me in one of the Private Rooms where I can show you the new bodystocking range and we can spend some more time together. I have the Silver room booked; it's very luxurious and well equipped. What do you say?"

"Fiona, that's very kind. I'd love to."

Smiling, she took two more full glass of champagne and led the way. We passed Stevie disappearing into Gold with Yasmin on one arm and Zoë on the other

"You haven't been here before have you," Fiona asked. Not wanting to lie, I replied, "You're right, I have never been to a show at Passionella before. "Then you will not have been in the private rooms." I avoided the point. "There are four similar smaller rooms but Silver is one of the premium rooms." She opened the door and waved me in. It is a very special room and is decorated entirely in white. All of the many high-quality fittings & fixtures are finished in bright polished chrome.

"Wow!" I exclaim, "Can you turn down the lights at bit?" Fiona obliged and closed the door, locking it behind her.

Fiona was wearing her corporate catsuit and sat on a long, low sofa. She patted the seat next to her and I sat slightly sideways with my knees firmly together. Fiona fiddled with her glass and seemed awkward.

To break the ice I remarked: "You were right about this dress. Look how it has ridden up." Fiona looked down at the wide gash up the side of my thigh.

"You mean, when I said it is a little short?"

"Yes, just as you predicted, you can see my stocking tops when I sit down. Like this." I wriggled back into the seat, feeling more at ease, "and a glimpse of bare flesh too, if I'm not careful. See?"

"Julia," Fiona hesitated a fraction. "But you don't want to be careful, do you? You are not a careful person, are you."

Leading her on, I remarked: "I like to take a few risks, if that's what you mean."

"Yes, and you know you have a very attractive body so you can afford to. I can see you like to show it off." How right she is, I thought to myself, convinced that Fiona was trying to charm me into an old-fashioned seduction.

"But Fiona, you have a lovely figure too, from what I can tell."

"It's not quite what it was, Julia. I'm 38 now and it has seen better days. I realise I can't compete with the younger girls that Linda employs. You see, … "

I interrupted and I wanted to encourage her. "But Fiona, not everyone likes these youngsters. Surely, some of Passionella's most wealthy clients are older ladies who have made their money and can afford beautiful lingerie to keep up their self-esteem and to bring a new spark into their relationships. Right?"

"Julia, you are very perceptive. But I like to think I have something extra to offer, something to offer someone like you."

"You mean, maturity."

"More than that, much more." she purred with a new-found confidence and excited tone I hadn't heard in her voice before. I was just wondering what she had in mind when she stood up and walked to the chrome music system set into the white wall. She selected 'Heard it through the Grapevine' and looked directly at me.

"Julia, I'd like to present the new Passionella bodystocking range." And she started to dance.

Silver is a large room and Fiona made good use of the space. She danced sensually to the slow rhythm of Marvin Gaye and soon started to unbutton her catsuit. Expertly she loosened each fastening but kept me guessing as to what lay underneath. When all the buttons were free, she shrugged the suit from her shoulders and wriggled out of it. For a few seconds she stood motionless in front of me. I was speechless.

Fiona was wearing a very, very skimpy and revealing bodystocking. It had very high-cut legs so the sides only reached down only to her waist making her legs look longer and leaner, and a long narrowing web of blue-grey nylon that disappeared between her legs. The top was cut square across her upper body, just above her breasts, held up by two narrow shoulder strops that cut slightly into her soft flesh. The suit itself was made from a very open weave mesh so I could clearly see her nipples through the blue-grey mesh, as well as a large bush of pubic hair that seems to match her Scottish redhead locks.

"My, Fiona. that's lovely," I remarked encouragingly, "I didn't see that design on stage. Turn around so I can see the back."

Fiona turned slowly, looking at me teasingly over one shoulder all the time, so I could then see that the suit was cut very narrow at the back, outlining her prominent rounded buttocks.

"I'm glad you like it. Would you like to try on a similar design?

I nodded agreement.

"You'll need to undress so I can judge the style that will suit you best."

I needed no further encouragement. Fiona slowly and seductively unzipped the side of my little black dress whilst keeping unblinking eye-contact then feasted her eyes on my underwear.

"Julia, you made a very good choice; that basque is perfect to wear under the dress we chose this morning," she remarked, still in Dem mode.

To add to the effect, I tantalizingly adjusted my suspenders, putting one foot up on the sofa then the other, then I smoothed the basque down over my body.

"Better?"

Fiona was mesmerised by the time Marvin had finished singing. "Can I choose next?" I asked. Fiona nodded and I selected Lady Marmalade (the original Patti LaBelle version, of course). I started to move to the powerful beat but Fiona put her hands on my shoulders to indicate that I should sit down. "No, this is my show tonight."

She walked to the other end of the room, to two chrome-plated poles I had not noticed before, each about 3 inches in diameter and set about 3 feet apart. To my amazement and intense enjoyment, Fiona then proceeded to put on a pole-dance show the like of which you couldn't pay good money to see in any London club. Fiona had something to prove – that her age was not a barrier, that maturity and experience still count for something, and that she could out-perform the younger girls.

I became really turned on as she twisted and slid down one of the poles. She wrapped her supple breasts around it and she rubbed her groin up and down its smooth shiny surface. I had to shift my bum on the sofa as I was getting really hot for her and I found myself caressing my breasts where they rose naked above my basque. Taking this as encouragement and appreciation, Fiona upped the stakes and sat on the floor. She placed her hands behind her at the foot of the two poles placed her own feet flat on the floor, wide apart, with her knees bent and gave me the most wonderful view of her sheer-clad pussy. She was panting by now as she rocked her hips to the beat.

"Julia, it's your night tonight if you want to have fun. To … enjoy yourself. Go ahead, it's OK." She must have realised that I'd already begun to stroke my pussy through the thin fabric of my navy panties, but I had another plan.

"Fiona, I want to see you naked. I'd like to help you out of that bodystocking; it's so tight between your legs it must be really uncomfortable. I'll undo the four buttons for you."

Fiona didn't say no and I guessed she probably knew what was coming. She lifted her bum off the floor and started to shake, partly from the strain of holding her pussy high in the air and partly no doubt from the anticipation.

"One … Two," we chanted together. Did she know this routine?

"Three," Fiona exclaimed. Yep, she knew.

"Four" I whispered, as I flicked her clit through the sheer material.

Fiona collapsed on the floor, spread-eagled on her back, moaning and smiling a contorted expression of deep emotion. She clutched the poles above her head and spread her legs even wider apart so I could flick my fingers across her aching but covered clitoris again, and again, and again, causing her to buck and writhe in pleasure and desperation.

"Fiona," I said, deciding to cut the crap and go for the kill "this one is on me, for all you have done for me.

Fiona protested weakly. "No, you can't, no, the rules ... I have to ... you must … first you … ohhh, please, please, no. Oh yes, please, yes …"

I rubbed her clit in small circles oh-so-very-lightly through the thin mesh of the suit pulled tight between her legs. She cried out again and stretched her arms higher, pushing against the poles and forcing her lower body harder onto my probing finger.

Teasing her rotten, I moved it away.

She wriggled her buttocks towards me as I knelt between her legs and she stretched her legs even longer and wider apart, trying to make clit-on-finger contact again. The combined effect was to pull the suit harder up into the gash of her cunt which gaped wide open so her pussy lips swelled out on either side. The narrow strip of blue-grey nylon and lycra contrasted with her fiery-red pubic hair as it pulled tight over her mound and all but disappeared inside her as her labia enfolded themselves around it.

The sensation against her clit must have been excruciating. I was feeling her pleasure in own pussy but I ignored my own state of arousal; this moment belonged to Fiona. She needed this so badly to boost her self-esteem.

She rocked her hips back and forth and screamed as the stretch-nylon mesh rasped back and forth over her clit. "Oh Julia, please, please. Touch me. Help me. I can't … oh, I need to … I need to come but I can't. I mustn't. Oh shit … help me …"

"Of course I'll help you," I said, slowly, just to delay the moment a little longer. I was sure that she could come just like this, by rocking and grinding her hips and frigging her clit up and down the tight crotch of her new-product-launch bodystocking. But her face was contorted into a pleasure/pain expression and her knuckles had turned white where she was gripping the poles.

I scraped a long, professionally-manicured fingernail along the web of nylon that had puckered to less than half an inch wide, intensifying the pressure on her clit and her arse-hole. Within moments of my fingertip making contact, Fiona screamed and shouted, bucked her hips and dragged her cunt up and down along the length of my finger before exploding into convulsions as an intense and noisy orgasm ripped through her.

(I was very close to orgasm myself, but I breathed deeply and successfully suppressed the feelings).

After a lying almost motionless on her back for several minutes in blissful calm, and having recovered physically if not mentally, Fiona stood up and rearranged her bodystocking. Her face carried a broad satisfied smile and a ruddy glow to match her dishevelled red hair matted across her face, telling me that she had just experienced something wonderful at my hand.

"Shit, Julia, where did you learn to do that," demanded Fiona, echoing a newfound confidence.

Honestly, I told her: "From a friend of mine. I can't possibly say who, in case you ever encounter her in the course of your work."

"Julia," she continued, "are you sure you don't want to masturbate yourself? You know there's a limit to what I can do to help. I'm sure you've had the Passionella rules explained to you."

I assured her I had but that I was fine and that I'd enjoyed her orgasm as if it was my own. In reality, I was still feeling incredibly horny and was having trouble thinking straight, but my evening was not over yet.

"Would you like to take a shower then?" she suggested, "there's one in here."

Behind one of two doors at the far end of the room, Fiona showed me a white-and-chrome en-suite bathroom that would do justice to any luxury home. "Come on, join me. It will be fun," and without waiting for my approval, Fiona released me by expertly removing my stockings and helping me out of my basque.

"I, erm … I need help with my buttons," she explained. "Could you? Just the three this time please!"

Fiona leaned against one of the poles for support and spread her legs. I knelt down and met the heady aphrodisiac scent of her vagina that told it's own story. I carefully slipped the three buttons from their loops and Fiona finally pulled the bodystocking over her head. I stood and admired her full, ripe, rounded but still attractive 38-year old body.

I slipped off my damp briefs and dived under one of the twin sprays as Fiona soaped herself under the other. She lingered much longer than necessary on her pendulous breasts, ensuring that she had the cleanest nipples in London. I enjoyed watching her bathe as she sensuously massaged the lather over her skin; it reminded me of showering after sports at school.

We dried off (pure white towels, of course) and talked.

"Julia, you have made me very happy this evening. You see …" she hesitated, "I've been going through a bad patch recently. I'm not in a relationship at the moment, the last one went sour 3 months ago and, to be honest, … that was the first orgasm I have had since then."

Fiona saw the look of shock on my face. "Really, it's not been that bad. But I've been getting very frustrated and it's been affecting my work. After this evening I shall look forward to meeting clients again. Thanks, Julia."

Wow. We chatted some more, during which Fiona explained that she never masturbates herself, then dressed.

But I had a problem. "Fiona, I can't possible wear these navy panties again. I've stained them. Look."

Fiona offered two suggestions. "I can find some from stock, I've loads to choose from in here." She opened a drawer full of Passionella products. "Or, since you like to take a risk, don't wear any!"

As I was planning to rejoin the launch party in the reception area, the second idea sounded like fun. Fiona held up my basque so I could slip into it and smiled as I pushed my boobs out. Lovingly she refastened the hooks tightly down the front and helped me with my stockings and suspenders. Finally I encased myself in my little black dress and Fiona zipped me up. I felt fresh, clean, and randier than ever.

"Julia," Fiona observed, "you look good as new. I'd love to kiss you, but it's not allowed." Instead she blew me a trademark pout.

Returning to the reception area, I found the party still in full swing. Virtually everyone was there. Emma, Linda, Charlotte and Rachel were all talking and laughing with clients. Of the senior staff, I couldn't see Kirsten but some of the other store Personal Shoppers were gathered in a small group, talking seriously. Of the Dems, Maria and Helen were at the centre of a lively group of clients. Vikki was talking with Abigail, who still had her blonde hair fixed up in a pair of schoolgirl pigtails from the catwalk show. She had most of the buttons of her catsuit undone so her ample breasts looked like they could easily escape from her purple bodystocking. In a corner, Yasmin and Zoë were wrapped in a passionate embrace together and snogging.

I was just about to interrupt Vikki when two strong arms gripped my waist from behind. I spun around to see the statuesque Stevie, perched on her ultra-high heels and looking down on me.

"Oh, Hi. I didn't see you earlier," I lied. "I loved your performance on the catwalk." I had forgotten how captivating I find Stevie to be. Now, memories of our session in the changing rooms the previous week came flooding back, how she had modelled that black strappy set for me, and I began to wonder if wearing no panties had been a good idea as warm juices flooded into my pussy. I feared the embarrassment of feeling a trickle of my own lube running down my inner thigh in front of all these people. But the more I embarrassed I felt, the wetter I became – it seemed I was enjoying the humiliation.

"Have you got a few minutes spare?" Stevie asked, "As this is your first time her I thought you might like to see the Private Rooms. Have you been in any?"

"Yes, thanks, just Silver, with, oh, what's her name? We just looked through some of the new bodystocking line, that's all."

"Silver is one of my favourites but you must see the others. Come on." I felt a hidden agenda coming on and I was loving it; Stevie was stimulating more than just my imagination. I was sure the 'Polite & Formal Miss Passionella Dem' was just an act for the benefit of her colleagues and the other clients.

She passed Blue, Yellow and Green, which are all "Unavailable", and opened the door to Red. "Like it?" she asked.

The room is a riot of bright reds and maroons, very 1960's pop-art style. "It's great, I love the rich warm colours. Red is such a, erm ..., stimulating colour isn't it." I remarked. From memory, Red seemed to be furnished to a similar level of fittings and furnishings as Yellow where I met Rachel, but in a very different style. I was about to step further inside when Stevie took my arm. "Then you'll love this," and led me to Gold.

She ushered me in and closed, and locked, the door.

My jaw dropped. If a middle-eastern prince with good taste and no budget limitations were to design a dressing room for his wife, this would be it. Everywhere was lavishly decorated in opulent shades of orange, with gilded and gold-plated fittings. The furniture was sumptuous and plentiful, consisting of three small sofas, a circular gilded coffee table, two upholstered chairs, two more chairs with padded seats and arms and a low upholstered chaise-longe. Against the back wall were two low padded stools and between them a rather complex-looking recliner chair, for want of a better description. All the available wall space was covered with mirrors; there were also two large mirrors on the ceiling and one small one set into the floor, surrounded by upward-pointing recessed lights. Towards one end were two doors and a pair of poles just like in Silver, except of course they were gold-plated.

"Stevie," I exclaimed, "this is so dazzling, so, well, sexy."

"Julia, that's why I brought you in here. Because that's exactly what you are. Dazzling, and sexy. And don't forget, we have some unfinished business. Julia, I've been aching to get you on your own ever since last week. I had such a good time modelling for you, and I'd like to take things a bit further, if you'd like to of course."