Advance Romance

From: Traci
Sent: Friday, December 05, 2008 5:14 PM
To: Mike
Subject: RE: Hey there.

My favorite day dream is that you slip into my room in the middle of the night while I'm sleeping, blind fold me so I don't know it's you, and I'm really too shy to continue. But I'm smiling while I'm thinking about this.

t

--- On Sat, 12/6/08, Mike wrote:

From: Mike
Subject: RE: Hey there.
To: Traci
Date: Saturday, December 6, 2008, 9:54 PM

They had recently met and instantly felt a bond that sent ripples of sexual tension through the air. Alas, they live in separate cities, too far away to really get to know each other the way they want -- desiring an intimacy created by touch. Fortune smiled on them, though, and they decide to meet at a conference in an exciting city located between their two homes.

Eagerly they anticipate the meeting, exchanging texts as they plan for a weekend of activity together. She arrives first and immediately sent him the room number of the hotel. She walks through the suite smiling because the room fits her private fantasy, luxury at its finest, from the plush carpet to the slick silk sheets on the king sized bed. Knowing he is hours behind her, she decides to soak in the jacuzzi for a while. As she floats in the hot water, she imagines him with her, her skin tingles with desire as she notices the beginning of an ache she knows will grow stronger shortly...

After satisfying herself with her thoughts, she feels suddenly exhausted and, slipping into a satin robe, relaxes on the bed and listens to soft music before gliding off into a deep sleep.

He comes in later, energized from the drive and the hours of anticipating their first kiss. Deciding to surprise her, he quietly pushes the key card into the door, opens it slowly and tip toes into the room. Smiling a lascivious smile as he sees her sound asleep on the bed, he quickly disrobes and steals in beside her. Pulling the belt of her robe from around her, he eases it beneath her head and ties it around her eyes, blindfolding her just as she awakens. She feels his weight on her back as she orients herself. He lays atop her, restraining her wrists in his powerful hands, arms outstretched, his legs holding hers motionless. She begins to squirm, to struggle, to push up against him only to feel his hardness against the soft mounds of her hips.

She questions, "Is that you?" to which he responds by slowly dragging his lips across the back of her neck, causing her to shiver with sensual desire. She feels his hot breath on her ear as he cranes around to kiss her cheek, his tongue snaking out for a taste.... He rises up on his arms, towering above her. She pushes back, engulfs him. He rocks to the slow rhythm of the music. Their breaths quicken as does their pace. The rhythm becomes fast, steady, hard. Panting as they couple, their bodies stiffen, engorged.. Pouring out passion ... drinking in intoxifying scents and, finally, finding relief.

Side by side they lay, hands caressing warm flesh, lips teasing lips, until he relents and removes the blind fold. Stare meets stare. Arm in arm they are one in the moment. Dreaming...

Mike

-----Original Message-----

From: Traci
Sent: Sunday, December 07, 2008 5:37 AM
To: Mike
Subject: RE: Hey there.

My, my I don't think I could improve on that, just dream about it. Trust me I'm smiling right now. You were so sweet with that prompt I think I need to try another soon... perhaps something with Albarino (I saved the cork), hot cranberry oil, and Leopard stilettos.

I kept waking up last night and found myself pulled back to my fantasy. I think your story might be the best gift I've had in a long time. ps if I could write like you I would never have become a lawyer.

t

-----Original Message-----

From: Mike
Sent: 12/07/2008 2:30:29 PM
To: Traci
Subject: RE: Hey there.

You are wicked. aren't you?

It thrills me to think that you lay awake in the wee hours touching yourself and thinking of me.

Mike

From: Traci
Sent: Tuesday, December 09, 2008 7:39 PM
To: Mike
Subject: RE: Hey there.

Only sometimes. I wanted to add a silken rope and thou to my previous thought.

t

--- On Wed, 12/10/08, Mike wrote:

From: Mike
Subject: RE: Hey there.
To: Traci
Date: Wednesday, December 10, 2008, 8:52 PM

It was their second encounter in as many days...

After a restful night's sleep he leaves her, with a kiss on her lips, to go down the hall to his own room for a shower and to dress for the meetings. She has an early interview to conduct so he lingers a while under the warm water, alone with his thoughts. Once dressed he goes to the lounge and, glancing around and not seeing her anywhere, gets coffee and a newspaper to wait for his first assignment. He hears her unmistakable, full bodied laugh and looks around for her. His gaze falls on an exquisite pair of Jimmy Choo Leopard skin spike heels. Following the line of her curvy legs up to the just too short mini, he recognizes the now-familiar hips. Her business jacket completes the look of a fashionable, sexy yet professional woman. The tight bun of her hair gives her a naughty school marmish look.

Throughout the day one would have to have expert powers of observation to discern any familiarity between them beyond that of two casual, professional acquaintances. For example, one might notice that no matter how many admirers surround her, her eyes search the room until they receive a rewarding wink from his. Perhaps someone may see that when they stand in line together, to turn in paper work, get coffee, or in the lunch buffet, he stands a little too close, rubs himself against her thigh and leans in slightly too far as he whispers to her. All through the day their studied, casual nonchalance belies the fire growing in their bellies.

As they turn in the day's final set of interview records and say goodbye to other participants, they feel an odd mix of relief and eager anticipation for the rest of the night. They decide to visit the 5 star restaurant in the hotel and, walking in, get ushered into the "reservations" side of the silk rope separating them from those destined to wait. After taking their seats at an out-of-the-way table, she excuses herself to freshen up and smiles as she returns to see a bowl of meatballs, one of sliced fruit and cheeses and a bottle of Rias Baixas Albarino. On the other hand, he smiles as she approaches, hair let down and a sensual glow about her that fuels his hunger.

She sits and they exchange small talk as wine is poured and toasts made. She watches with a strange sense of slow motion reserved for car wrecks as he drops his napkin and, when bending down to retrieve it, slides from his chair and disappears under the table cloth. Still in a stupor, her mind automatically identifies the divider rope from the reservations area as it tightens around her ankle and twists around her leg, crosses over and down the other leg, and is finally secured around the second ankle. Snapping out of the momentary delirium, she tries to stand in protest only to discover that she is bound to the chair and cannot move. Smiling lasciviously, she pours a fresh glass, slides slightly forward in her chair and leans back to enjoy.

Breathing hard, he sees only the Jimmy Choos as he begins to massage her legs. His hands play over her soft flesh, working their way up to her thighs. She recognizes the smell of the warm cranberry oil that lubricates his palms as they slide across her leg, thumbs and fingers squeezing gently, and come to rest in her damp moistness. Back and forth they pulse, staying in time with her ever quickening heart beat. Suddenly she feels his cheek against her inner thigh. Brushing against her, he leads with his tongue and swoons with the salty, sweet taste. She fights to keep a sober face as her cheeks and the tops of her breasts flush with excitement. Her legs stiffen, she braces and, finally, achieves release.

When she recovers, he is sitting next to her and leans over for a kiss. She ponders the exotic blend of the Albarino mixed with her own taste on his lips. They finish the bottle and stand to adjourn to more comfortable quarters when she notices the silk rope coiled on the seat of his chair.

Your turn.

Mike