Synder & Ashe Ch. 5

Standing on such skyscraper heels was an experience in and of itself. The high arch made my hips thrust out unnaturally, forcing me to lean backwards in order to maintain balance. I did like how fantastically toned and muscular my legs suddenly looked. The calves, pulled tight, looked marvelous. I vowed right then and there to toss my StairMaster and instead to buy more incredibly sexy, super-tall heels to stretch me into perfection. The uncomfortable tugging of my muscles, right underneath my ass told me that a similar effect might be going on with my wide, all too fat ass and hips.

If I could change one thing about myself, that would be it. My lard-ass had to go.

Next, I rolled on the thong bikini, tugging the stringy garment on with slow, deliberate movements. The cloth buried itself deep between my fleshy ass cheeks. It peeked out from between my ample thighs and scaled up the valley of my sex. Light whispers of pussy down radiated out from it. The cloth wasn't even wide enough to properly hide it all! Shame colored my cheeks. Quickly I donned the sarong, tying it snugly around my waist with a secure knot on the left side of my hip. Andrew's warm, deep chuckle surprised me, making me halt my activity.

"Go on," he said." So far, so good!"

Why did such a small compliment have such a great effect on me? Who knows. But it did. I lived to receive his praise and to know that I had pleased him.

But how could I continue? All that remained was the harness and sash. The sash seemed like overkill. I already had the sarong secured in place. The light garment draped beautifully. It needed no sash to complement it. And where the hell was the bikini top? The remaining boxes held nothing. Certainly he didn't intended to make me go outside dressed only in fuck-me heels and braided leather straps?

Did he?

"Let me help you," he said, approaching me. He took the bit of gauzy leopardskin cloth from my trembling hands and held each end in a different fist. He then quickly flipped it over my head, drawing me to him by the band stretched across the back of my neck. Jacked up on the skyscraper heels I stood at the perfect height to steal a kiss from him. My mouth opened, ready for the blessed event to take place at long last.

Of course it was not to be!

Andrew stepped back, crossing the ends of the cloth over my breasts then moving forward again to hold them close to my rib cage. "Take them," he said. My listless hands obeyed. My mind wasn't on getting dressed. It puzzled over his contrary actions. He claimed to want me, and had strongarmed Dave to get me. Now, he acted as if he had no intentions of taking me! It made no sense.

Andrew slipped behind me, grasping the ends I held in my weak grip and tying them behind me. I felt a knot biting into the small of my back, right on the spine. Andrew's hands snaked around me, tweaking my nipples. As they hardened even more, he carefully smoothed out the band of cloth that clung to my breasts until they were decently covered. Well, kind of. I could still see my pale flesh clearly through the material. My breasts being totally visible yet concealed made them look even more attractive than they had totally bare!

I felt his hand at my hip, applying insistent pressure upon it. I allowed him to turn me about, ever so slowly, until I made a complete circuit like a record on a turntable. He inspected every bit of me. I felt him weigh, tally and catalogue me in that ever-working brain of his. I wondered how I rated. Did I pass, or did he find me wanting?

"Almost perfect," he whispered. Inside I bounced up and down in childish glee, even though I remained absolutely composed on the outside. That is, if a woman quickly soaking her g-string with pussy juice and quaking like a fever victim could be thought of as 'composed.'

"What is it you need ... what is it?" he whispered to himself, eyes locked upon me but not seeing me. His mind roamed elsewhere. How could this very important man spend so much time with me and neglect preparations for an Expo that could potentially make him and his firm millions? I didn’t know, but I liked it. Unlike certain bastard husbands I knew, this Andrew Grissolm knew how to treat a lady.

Then again, I was his lady now. A small part of me wished that I could be his forever. But everyone knows that wishes don't come true.

But desires? Desires often did. They just required little bit of effort to bring them to fruition.

"Hair," he said last. His hand reached out to stroke my auburn locks, tracing the curvy falls down my neck and all the way to my back. "I've been neglecting your hair. We need to fix it up. Get it cut, or something."

His comment hurt me. I've always had long hair. I liked it that way. I had made it through the hair spray '80s, the severe cut '90s and all the way into the new millennium with my long hair intact. Why did he think it needed slashing?

"What's the name of the woman looking after you?" he asked.

"Sondra."

"Sondra. Yes. Let's ask her to fix up your hair. Perhaps a shorter style to better accentuate your face. Long hair detracts from it. Men's eyes see it, but not you."

"Andrew, I really don't want to –"

"What you want isn't important here, Barbara Ann. You'll have your hair styled today. Come along." Andrew left to look for my attendant. He didn't even look back to see if I followed or not. I’m sure he had no doubt that I'd be right behind him. I fell into line just like a little schoolgirl behind her teacher as they went off to see the principal. I felt so insignificant I wanted to burst into tears. At the same time, my excited, overstimulated pussy wept sweet, warm honey down my legs and inner thighs. It wasn't just the altitude of the high heels that made my gait wobbly! Though they now looked toned, solid and muscular, my legs felt like overstretched rubber bands.

What else could this man have in store for me, I wondered? It wasn't even noon yet.

As things turned out, the day truly was still young.