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Silk Scarf Ch. 1

By: Datadr



This is one hotel that you have never been to. The letter you received was hand written, and the script unrecognizable. Why you are here you still don't know. The lobby is huge and full of people. You feel as if everyone knows why you're there. Why are you here?

The elevator elegant and all glass, moves up slowly and silently. The open glass back was providing an expansive view of the old hotel. The quiet little beep repeats as each floor is passed. Why are you doing this? This is not your style.

The note, along with a single red rose, delivered by hand to your office. Embossed in gold on the envelope was your name. A wax seal closed the flap. The writing on the seal to difficult to read. You turned and flipped it several times, trying to figure out its contents. Once open, inside was an invitation. You remember your hands trembling as you read the card. Where had this come from?

What was it that had made you come so far, drop your defenses to this level? Looking back the card was more of a summons than an invitation. You had even thrown it away, then retrieved it. Something about it commanded your response. And you had complied.

The elevator door opening signaled the 19th floor. Your finger reached for the first floor button. Instead your hand dropped to your side, you exited. Legs wobbly in the high heels that you never wore anymore, but were requested in the note. Each step down the long hall reminded you of the underwear, still lying on your bed, again by request. Your nipples strained at the silk blouse, breasts swaying slightly with each step. The silk of the blouse soft and smooth. Feeling so good.

A turn to the left, room numbers 1926, 1927, the numbers rising. Breathing coming quicker. Rooms passing slowly. 1928, 1929,1930, two more to go. You stopped at the door 1932. A note in the same script attached to the door. Telling, no imploring you to enter. You knock. Looking up and down the hall for some excuse to leave. No one answered. Your hand quivers as you reach for the brass knob. Quietly the door swings open. The entire room surrounded by glass. The view of the city breathe taking. Deeper you move into the room.

The champagne bucket standing there, alone in the center of the room. Single glass alongside. Another note the same handwriting. You reach for the bottle and pour a full glass. Sipping you read the next note. You know inside that you can't do this. You turn to leave. Another sip of the cool bubbly wine tasting sweet and tingly. You hesitate, reread the note. Another drink long and hard, draining the glass.

There is a scarf on the couch, per the note. Folded, length wise, a long thin line. You touch the scarf, fingers moving slowly over the fabric. Silk you would guess. Taking it into your hands, you turn it over and over. Laying it back on the couch you turn again to leave. Then back, and then to leave. What's happening to you? Breathing rapid, heart pounding you return to the couch and the scarf. Retrieving it, holding the length in both hands, you raise it up. You feel the fabric on the bridge of your nose. Your fingers tremble as the knot pulls tight behind your head. Your view obscured. Vision lost. You stand hands at your side. Knees shaking mind running wild. Hearing acute. You stand per the note. Clearing your throat, your speak, voice quaking. "I am here."

Fear running rampant in your mind. Head turning, trying to hear. No sound, how long had you been standing there? Your hear the soft breathing of another. Your hands start to rise. Your need to see greater than ever.

A male voice "Please leave it, or I will have to leave. You are free, you came here on your own, and may leave at anytime."

Your hands gradually moving back to your side. That voice, a strange one, one that you had never heard before. Soft, gentle, commanding. You want to move toward it. But you stand. A warm breath on your bare neck. Your skin trembles body tingling. Your head turns, exposing more of the soft pale flesh of your neck. Your breathing faster knees shaking as you stand, inwardly proud that you are there.

A whisper in your ear soft and commanding. You remove the coat as requested. You feel him moving around you. You feel his eyes upon you. Your nipples press hard against the fabric. You know he is standing there before you. Watching you. Your back arches. Pressing the fabric of the blouse tighter against your body. Why?

Something soft, slick moves across your neck. It feels so good. You skin calling out for more. A stronger touch. It moves away. Then again across the exposed flesh above your breasts. Your body moves into the touch. Breasts swelling, trying to grasp more of the touch. Your head falls back, the caresses continue. Your hands move out to grasp.

"No," whispered. 

A murmured command soft and demanding. You feel the distance from him now. Your hands move to the top button on the blouse. You hesitate again. Fear and longing. The button opens. The cool air across the newly exposed flesh. Nipples growing. Mind flooded with thoughts. The next button and the taught fabric opens across your body. Two more buttons and you stand blouse open before the unseen. You pull the blouse pulled from the waist of the skirt. A shrug and you feel it pass your legs on the way to the floor.

Standing there. Not a sound, save for your own breathing and pounding of your heart. The object moving across you again. Your neck craving more and more. Another command and your hands move to your breasts. You feel their familiar weight. You caress yourself gently. You enjoy the growing heat within. Fingers twisting nipples. Your own touch so soft. Your hands move over your upper body. Slowly, savoring the silky smoothness. 

You know you are being watched and you don't care. You need this, a deep need. Your hands are moving constantly more bold. Caresses firmer. You lean forward to feel the full import of the soft flesh in your hands. More and more you stroke the fullness. The sides the underneath, the hardness of the nipple. Never have you felt this. Never has your own touch been so electric. Never have you been this way in front of another. You feel his stare. 

Hands moving lower. You press the skirt against you. Touching the material against the full flowering of your sex. You rock gently against your probing fingers. The skirt soft and cool against you feels wonderful. The touch of your fingers stronger more intense. Your hips undulating. A moan escapes your lips. Hands, not yours, slide the side zipper of the skirt gently down. Inch by inch, slowly you feel the waistband open. You no longer care your desire too great.

Body covered only by the wobbling heels. Hands again at your side as requested. Your feel, no sense him moving around you, circling. Legs parted slightly, you detect the scent of you in the air. Again you sense the circling movement. Another slight breathe near your ear, and another command. Legs parting, opening more. Your body completely exposed. Your hands moving again over your body. Your fingers are drawn to your need. You move to touch, but are stopped. Your wetness is felt at the top of your warm thighs. Your hips moving to their own rhythm. Your body is performing an ancient dance. Your hands again to your breasts. Needing, squeezing, stroking, touching you harder firmer.

A Warm breath between your legs. Your scent now fills the air. Your hands working faster. Your heat and desire growing without limits. Your leg jumps at the gentle touch upon your calf, imploring movement. You open more. The caress gentle, from behind, moves slowly upward. A hand firmly between your shoulders bids you to lean forward. You feel his presence behind you. His breath upon your thighs. His hand moves higher.

You bend slightly at the knee. Moving down toward the touch. Hips rocking, your body is longing, for the touch upon you. His breath closer, higher. Your wetness flowing. His fingers moving in the moisture. Completely bare, your lust demanding release. His hands upon you, another moan escapes. How could he know the way to touch? Your senses concentrated on your need.

His fingers moving slowly, your hips pressing against them. Need like fire building. Your hands moving on your breasts, his between your legs. You bend more, offering more. The touch bolder, probing. Fingers moving over your lips. Clit trembling. Another stroke, and a firmer touch. Clit surrounded by fingers. Stroking gently. Fingers penetrating deeper driving your too new levels. Hips pressing back harder. Fingers pulling and twisting nipples. The flame was burning higher. 

Your hands captured in his, pulling down. Your fingers replacing his, your touch stronger. His hands upon your shoulders, gently forcing you down. You kneel still touching. Back arched against your fingers. The familiar sound, a belt opening. Movement of a zipper captured in your ear. You feel the heat of him on your lips. Fingers clutching at yourself. He moves closer and you open to accept. Your lips close tightly around him. His fingers on your nipples. The swollen ridge of him passes your wet lips. Your tongue plays with the intruder. You hear a new sound, the sound of his pleasure.

You lean into him further. The taste driving your fingers faster, deeper you probe your own depths. Deeper he passes into you. Your tongue swirling around him. He is deep now, your not sure if you can take all of him. He moves away. Slowly moving from your mouth. In again, the fullness in your mouth greater, deeper. You want this like never before.

Your hips grinding against your fingers. He, another stroke into your wanton mouth. How much can you take? You want more. Another stroke, your finger upon your clit, a moan escapes from you, driving him deeper. His fingers locked in your hair. Pulling you closer. Your throat opens and you take him fully. Your fingers deep, you are ready. He pulls back you try to follow, but he holds you away.

The tip of him on your lips, down to your chin. His hands lifting you. Standing you are turned. Bending forward you feel the back of the couch at your waist. Fingers still move on yourself. Your flesh opening for him. Slowly he enters. A small shudder passes through your body. Building, building. You feel him moving into you. Your legs open wide to accept. Deeper he moves, faster your fingers move over your wet swollen clit. Deeper, he is filling you completely. The movement reversed. You feel the emptiness begin. Fully he withdraws. You cry out for more. "Oh GOD, fuck me."

Again he moves into you. Little by little you are filled again, this time you cannot control, you thrust back against him greedily taking all. Never so full you reach out and grasp the tight sack, and pull it against your clit. Your hips move against him. Rocking, pleading you call out. He withdraws, penetrates, withdraws, and penetrates. You call out with each stroke "fuck me." Your fingers helping, touching where you come together. Never faster, but each stroke firmer than the last, he moves in you.

Your need is too strong. You call out. He strokes deeper and harder than before. Your hands clench your breasts. Your sounds fill the room. Your body inside clutches at the intruder. Your body trembles. Every muscle tightens. Your whole being is centered. The feelings continue. Your cries fill the air. The release is so tremendous. This is a new level. Your wetness flowing down your thighs. You feel him begin to swell more, deep within you. His explosion takes you even higher. He pulls back and then deep again. His hands pull your hips tight against him. He grinds hard, and is spent. You fall forward over the back of the couch. Expended, exhausted, thrilled. Desire and lust sated. You feel him changing within you. The fullness evaporating. His hands gone, he withdraws completely. 

Your breathing slows. Heart returns to almost normal. The flushes of pleasure still upon you. The room is quiet. Too quiet. Your hands move to the blindfold, and loosen the knot. The scarf falls on the floor and your vision returns slowly. You look around the room, standing fully. The chamber empty. Save for a single rose on the couch, and an empty second glass on the floor.

Dazed you dress. Searching the room you find nothing. Sitting on the couch you pour another glass of champagne. Your mind wanders back to the events of a few moments ago. Finally you rise. You move across the room, the sound of the door clicking closed behind you.

Silk Scarf Ch. 2



Steam from the nearly overflowing claw foot tub fills the room. Scent from the aromatic bath salts whispered to your senses. 

Placing the thick white robe on the hook and glancing in the mirror as you pass, you smile with pride at the body of a thirty-nine year old woman who could still pass for twenty-five. Twisting your long hair into a knot, and stepping into the almost too warm water. Easing down you feel the warmth engulf you, and your cares of the long day begin to fade.

Totally immersed, the water renewing your body, your mind drifts back, to, what, almost four weeks ago. The note, the hotel, and the stranger. You are still unable to believe your reactions. How could you ever do that? What was so wrong in your marriage that would possess you to go to someone like that? Sure you and Tim had a few problems, but you had been married for almost ten years. What couple didn't? Yet you had run off to this meeting like an enthralled schoolgirl.

Memories of opening the door to that room, the view, the fear, the tension flood your mind. And of course the ecstasy. The giving of yourself like that. Never before, and like you swore to yourself afterwards, never again. Not even a note from the stranger. Maybe it was for the better. Gone, hopefully for good. But not soon forgotten. Memories of the moments. The blue scarf. You close your eyes and let the water move gently over you.

A grin crosses your lips as you fall back into that night. Those few unforgettable hours. Your hands move tenderly over your nipples, still just above the water. Already swollen from the cooler air. Slowly you circle, your mind reliving those intense memories. Your hands become bolder. Kneading the flesh. You smile to yourself, enjoying what those thoughts still do to your body. Almost every night now you have turned to the bath for release. The warm water, the sweet aroma, the privacy. One hand moves slowly over your belly, appreciating the firmness. No kids was a big help.

If only Tim could be the one. The one to make you feel this way. How long had it been, three, four months? Too long, anyway. Why was he working so much? Sure you both enjoyed the lifestyle that your incomes provided, but is that all there is.

The tying of the knot behind your head moves through your thoughts. Your hand moves lower. The standing for who knows how long. Your legs open to your touch. The whispered request, and your compliance. The water warm and relaxing. Your fingers tracing slow circles around that place. Your mind travels back to that evening. You coat coming off. Fingers moving more firmly. Stroking. Your nipples hard with the memories. One hand delicately teasing the bud. Your legs part more. Knees bent, exposed to the cooler air. Your mind drifts with the flow of thoughts coming back. Scene by scene it is all replayed. Your fingers drawing your desire to a higher level. The bath oil making your skin smooth and slippery. Your shaving for the last few weeks had been an impulse at first, but now you noticed the increased sensitivity. Your are so smooth and soft. Swollen, wanton to the touch. Your fingers spread the flesh, letting the water pass over the hidden folds. A thrill passes through you. One finger slowly circling just inside, your other hand moving down strokes the hard bud. Together your fingers work their magic. Your hips begin to thrust against your clenching hands. You can feel your muscles deep inside drawing at your inserted finger. More and more firmly you move over yourself. Deeper your mind goes back to that series of events. You feel the heat of the moment. The waters ebb and flow matching your thrusts.

Close, so close. The release, eminent. Mind going blank. Need taking control. Body shifting to allow access to those most private places. The feel of him deep inside you again. The moment remembered. The heart pounding, breathing rapid. A long moan bursts forth. Your body stiffening, toes curling, inner muscles clenching. Hips moving on their own. The feeling continues, on and on, higher, deeper the physical release reaches. You sink back into the warm water, hands moving slowly over you. Breathing returning to normal. Head back, eyes closed.

You can't believe the need within you. Even after so long, so many moments passed and still these thoughts can take you to this place. Your foot reaches out, and toes curling around the brass faucet, the hot water flows, warming the now tepid liquid that covers you like a blanket. How can this be happening? Will I ever hear from him again? You vow not to do this again. Your marriage can be saved. You love Tim. This is not what you want. But Still...



Silk Scarf Ch. 3



The drive to work, always frustrating but never changing. Brief case rocking gently in the passenger seat. Today was another in a long string of days tied together with boredom. 

Over ten years with this company, and unable to move past middle level management. You know you are better prepared than most you work with, but still the upward movement never occurs. Wondering if the cause is your gender, you glide into your parking place, in the covered tower area.

Mick, the Landmark security guard near the elevator flags your attention as you approach. Turning in his direction, he reaches under the counter and passes forth a long slim white box tied with a white bow. The box reminds you of the ones that you see delivered occasionally through out the office. Usually carrying flowers, especially roses, to those around you. Never has Tim sent flowers before.

Riding the elevator to the third floor, you find yourself rushing to the little cubical they call an office, anxious to open the package from Tim. You're wondering what the motivation for flowers was, especially since you had hardly spoken in a few weeks. Perhaps he was trying to make amends. Your smiling, thrilled to have him re-opening that door. Now, maybe you can re-kindle that which brought you together once.

Placing the box on your desk, you glance around, checking to see if your co-workers are watching. All appear to be pre-occupied. Smoothing your skirt under you as you sit in the swivel back armless chair. Hands trembling with excitement, you untie the bow, wanting to save it along with the box to show Tim later. The bow spread around the box, the lid lifting. A quick peek inside, under the flap of the box, reveals that it is indeed not flowers. Lifting the lid completely you find a black silk and brocade evening gown. Lifting it from its container, holding it up you realize that it is floor length, possibly hand made, and very, very elegant.

Tim would never have picked out something like this. He is way too conservative. Backless with low cut front, and slit on the side, almost to the hip. Beautiful. You look back to the box. Searching for a note. You had not noticed one under the bow. No note. A quick call downstairs to Mick, confirms that there was no note attached upon delivery. Turning the dress over and over, caressing its smooth silky fabric, you wonder what had gotten into Tim. This was so fantastic, yet so unlike him. Maybe, just maybe.

A shadow crosses your desk. A glance up reveals another deliveryman, no more like a messenger. A white envelope sealed on the flap with wax is proffered. Taking it, the messenger turns and leaves. You turn the envelope over and over. The script on the outside is the same as before. Heart racing, hands trembling, you pry the wax off, and open the flap. Him. The note in the same format, beseeching yet commanding confirms that the gown is from him.

Well it can all just go back to where it came from. Your vow not to meet again will remain unbroken. Another call to Mick, followed by disappointment. Mick is unable to inform you where the package came from. You hadn't noticed a company name on the jacket of the messenger service. You replace the gown in the white box, re-tie the bow and place it on the credenza behind you. The note is still open on your desk. You notice that your fingers are gently tracing the edges. I can't do this. Can't do this to Tim, or even to myself. Yet something, something deep within, something yet not admitted to yourself confirms that you will again comply with the wishes of the note.

Thank GOD Tim works late most evenings. The meeting is set for six-fifteen. For the last two hours you have been making excuses up in your mind not to attend. Yet here you stand rather than sit, avoiding wrinkles in the gown, ready to go forth to you know not where. The limousine is due at any moment. This will be easy, you can just tell the driver no, that you are unable to go with him.

You jump at the sound of the knock on the door. Peeking out the bedroom window, you can see the long sleek black vehicle parked at the curb in front. Your view from the second story obscures the front door. Unable to see the cause of the knock you know it must be the driver. Building your courage, making your mind steadfast, you decide in fact to tell him that you cannot leave. Another knock, and you start for the stairs.

Hand closing around the familiar knob, the door opens. A driver standing there, saying nothing, points to the car. You look to him for information, look to the long black shining vehicle, feel the gown tightly hugging your body. You start to speak, but are unable. The door closes softly behind you, as you follow the driver to the open back door of the limousine. As you slide in, the slit in the gown opens, eliciting a glance from the driver as he notices the long lean leg and firm thigh. There on the seat is the scarf, and beside it another note in the same script. The door closes gently, the click of the lock like a gunshot in your ear. A moment of panic moves thru you. You tear the note open, and read the contents. Why, what is it with me you ponder. The car is not moving, it's still sitting at the curb. The driver is waiting. The familiar scarf, folded, now in your hands. Covering your eyes, and with resignation you pull the knot tight. You hear the window between you and the driver rise, the car in gear, and the sensation of movement.

What is this? Sitting in the soft leather seat of the moving vehicle, you wonder. Blindfolded, going who knows where, to meet who knows whom, for whatever reason. This is crazy. Your hands move up to the scarf, ready to remove it, but something stops you. You have a need for some remote reason to see this through. Hands again in your lap. The gentle rocking of the limo, you lean back and relax. Well more like controlled panic. Listening for familiar sounds, you realize that the limo is almost sound proof. You find your Heart racing, and your mind almost out of control. You notice your hands quivering in your lap.

The drive seems to last forever. You realize that you have moved out of the city. The limo moving faster and smoother. Probably traveling on the freeway. Soft music begins playing, the sound surrounding you, helping you relax. Breathing is easier and your heart slowing to almost normal. Still the vehicle moves on. On and on, steadily, very little change in direction. The sounds of the music lulling you into a very relaxed state. The constant click of the tires on the road is a most pleasant humming in your extra sensitive ears. 

Slowing now, and a slight turn to the right, confirming your exit from the freeway. Slowing more, a complete stop. A turn to the right, the road rougher than before. Many swerves, a few stops and a few tight turns in each direction. You sense a driveway. Ears detecting gates opening. The limo moving forward. A few more twists and a complete stop.

Hands shaking again, mouth dry, the side door that you entered, how long ago, opens. A cool draft moves across you. Your exposed thigh feels a slight breeze. A soft gentle hand taking you by the arm. Guiding you from the vehicle. Legs opening to move across the seat. Turning at the sill, knowing that the slit is open, hands trying to close the gap. Unable to see, makes you wobbly on the tall heels. Finally you are standing. Guided forward, you hear a female voice, " four steps". One, two, a wobble on three, assistance from the one at your side, four. Scuffling sound of your shoes on tile. A slight trip on a threshold. The feeling of big overwhelms you. A door latching behind you echoes off the interior walls.

The hand assisting you drops away, no sounds. Alone, or not, you have no idea. Your neck moves about seeking any sound, anything to help give you a bearing. Nothing.

You know that you have surrendered to this evening, but have no idea why. Pictures flash through your mind. Visions never really there, but perceived from the other night, how long ago? Standing, no vision, no sound, just you alone within your self. These images move through. The champagne, the couch, the fear, embarrassment, the wanton desire, how you must have looked over that couch. A strange heat moves through your body. Fear mixed with excitement, causes your skin to become chilled, and nipples hard against the gown. Standing you relive the other night, moment by moment. The desire growing, tempered only by the anxiety. 

Another's presence sensed. No a sound, just a feeling, something moving, circling quietly. Long moments pass, then a slight touch on the back of your arm, like a brush on a painting. Another soft touch followed by a gentle grasp. Pulling you to the left. You are lead, the blind following out of complete trust. Shoes clicking on tile, then soft, quiet on thick carpet. You feel yourself moving into another large room. Stopped by a slight tug on your arm, you freeze. Hearing acute, but there is no sound to rest upon. Hair lifted from your shoulders by unseen hands. A clip holding it in place. Warmth radiating from your left must be a window there, facing the setting sun. Hands, two, caressing the sides of your neck. The touch so wonderfully soft. The fingers so smooth on your almost bare shoulders. Down the exposed flesh of your back. A drink placed in your hand. Long cool glass, the stem short. You raise the glass to your nose, the scent of champagne.

The cool bubbles move through you, taking the edge from your panic. You are guided to a small straight back chair. Barely large enough to cover the firm tight hips, that you have worked so hard on. Lower than normal also, might be a child's chair. You hear the door close, alone again. This time only for a moment, the door opening and closing again. You feel someone close. A smile crosses your lips you recognize the cologne. It is he. You feel weak in the knees, so excited you almost blurt out in happiness, but you remember the note, and withhold.

Soft music playing in the background. A hand on your ankle, shoe being removed. Then the other. The glass taken from your fingers. A hand touching yours. Lifting, urging you upwards. You stand bare footed. Your arms raised level with shoulders, outstretched. Heart racing, where will this go, what is happening to me. Arms are encircling your body. Drawn close, you feel his body fully against yours. One arm behind you, the other softly held in his hand. He leads in the dance of two lovers. You pull him closer, feel him fuller. The cool glow in you is growing warmer. You dance as if you had always been partners. 

The melody ends. Still held tightly, another slow soft song starts. This one an old favorite of yours. Your heart lifts at the sounds, memories of an early love overwhelming you. Still you dance. He feels so grand pressed against you like this. Your arm around his neck, pulling him closer. Turning you rapidly, you feel the long skirt flair, and the brush of the wind reminding you of the garments not worn, but left in the drawer at home.

Song after song, spin, twirl, like Cinderella's ball you float in his arms. You want to laugh, call out let him know all that he has made you feel, but always the note.

Another twirl and the song ends. A slow classical piece begins. He moves from your clutch, and disappears in the soft music. You stand still concentrating looking for a sound that will give his presence away. A slight clink, as if two pieces of metal touched. A thumb on your chin, downward, opening, something smooth and hard inserted partway. Chocolate, and strawberry. Delicious the juices in your mouth flowing around the flavor. You suck gently, rather than chew, savoring the taste.

Another proffered and taken. Another, but this different. Not all the way in. You lean into take it, and brush against his lips, holding the berry. His hands curled in your hair, pulling the clip out, drawing you close for this first kiss. 

Lips soft, moist, yet firm. You accept this, and begin moving stronger against him. You can feel his steady breathing. He parts, leaving you the other half of the berry. Pulling you close, you surrender into his arms. Who is this person that can make me feel this way? My body out of control my need so strong, how can he make me feel this way? His lips nuzzling at your neck, his arms around you again. You gather him into you, and hold him close. Tears begin to flow under the blindfold.

His finger lightly daubing at the salty tears, wiping them from your face. You need to cry out, to tell him what you feel, but cannot. A single word could break the spell. His lips on your ear, behind your ear, down your neck. Hands behind your back, working at the zipper that held the gown closed. Stepping away, the gown loose, you cannot control the desire. Leaning slightly forward, you let the gown cascade down your body. A body, alive for only the second time in so long. So very alive. His breaths close. Another tug on your chin your mouth opens expecting another berry instead you feel his lips close on yours, his tongue searching. Your whole body collapsing against him. His support is all that keeps you from falling. Tongues intertwine his so strong, yours so mobile. Wrestling together, trying to let each know the hidden feelings.

His hands moving over your bare back, touching everywhere, searching but not finding, and searching again. Your breasts pressed against what must be a silk shirt. You can feel the warmth of his flesh in your swollen nipples. The kiss broken he steps back. His hand guides yours to a breast. Your fingers cupping the fullness from beneath, lifting slightly. Electric shocks travel through you from your nipple to your toes, his tongue lathering the engorged flesh. Head tilted, and, back arched you offer yourself more openly to his kiss. The whole nipple taken deeply into the warm mouth nursed as a child would. The light brown flesh growing to his touch, his tongue twirling, mouth sucking. Your hands grasp his head, pulling him closer, bidding him to take more, not to stop. Bolder, you move him to the other. He takes it deep, his hands on the first. You feel the wetness in you spread, like a long closed dam opening. Your legs part. They seem to have a will of their own. You can almost feel the heat from within you. Your whole body warming.

Shifting you try to maneuver your body closer to his. You need to feel him close now. He turns slightly, still his tongue on your breasts. First one breast then the other. You feel the fabric of his pants between your legs. Your body is on fire. He is still moving from breast one to the other. Your hands holding his head close. Your hips searching for the correct posture. Trying to move your body against his leg. You cannot control that which this man has opened. Desire is in control now. 

Anything, everything he wants, is his for the taking. If only he would help douse the flames growing inside you. Your legs straddling his, you find a purchase, and move slowly against him. The fabric against that most sensitive of sites. Like a bitch in heat. You are out of control, you need this, you justify this. Your hips grinding against him is making the fabric of his pants moist slippery, and smooth against you. His manipulations on your breasts is continuing to brighten the fire within you. Your hips a rhythm found. Steady, steady the flame grows. Harder and harder you pull on the head at your chest. Desire grows, demanding release. Almost begging, your hips continue the dance. Close, so close. His hand drops from your breast. Inserted between you and his fabric-covered leg, you grind onto him, calling out in pleasure. His fingers moving deep within you. Your lips opening wide, insides clutching wildly at the foreign objects. The palm of his hand in precisely the right place, you rock slow and hard against this touch. Building, building, the dampness felt on your thighs. The explosion came so quickly, the racing heart, the heaving chest,the loud moans overtaking you. You collapse into his arms. His hand wet from you, his fingers inserted into your mouth, his tongue following. Your tongues battle for the taste of you. Knees weak, you settle gently to the floor.

Softness surrounds you, the warmest, coziest most comfortable place you have ever been. Soft breathing next to you. You feel the weight of him upon the bed. The scent of champagne in the air. The almost painful sensation as the cold fluid splashes across your breasts, down to your flat hard stomach, trickling between your legs. Your hips jerk at the sensation between your sensitive thighs. His tongue lapping at the drink. Your body responding already, a groan escapes, followed by a whimper as his tongue caresses that crease at the top of your leg, and moves slowly toward the center. The bubbles from the drink, bursting, in the most unusual places. New sensations with each burst. Tongue closer now, closer to the heart of your body. The warm, wet, soft, rough, oh so fantastic, curling around your button. Your fingers curl into his hair, pulling his face into you. So quick you are ready for this, so quick your need has been re-kindled.

Fingers parting you spreading open that hidden area. Tongue swirling at the outer edges. Spreading wider, opening totally, you give in to the sensation. Tongue moving deeper, filling you. Your muscles clenching down. His finger swirling lower, his tongue deeper, your own fingers assisting. Hips undulating, your need rising, body on fire, screaming for release. Knees bent, legs open the giving complete. A low growl and then a cry into the air escapes. The flood of your essence is coating his tongue. Legs straight out, hips thrust upwards, body tense, then darkness.

Awakened by a tender shaking, again a female voice, you can leave now. You remove the scarf to find the room empty, save for another empty glass, and a single red rose on the edge of the bed.



Silk Scarf Ch. 4



At first, those couple of months ago, you started shaving as a lark. An impulse that ultimately led to the total enjoyment of the feel of silk against your mound. You found yourself shopping for just the right cut, one that would move against you as you went through the day. Almost constant thoughts of your liaisons were running through your mind. Everyday the images were growing stronger, not fading like most. Memories awakening desires imbedded deeply within you.

Your changes have been subtle, but effective. Your hair is a little better kept, you have returned to working out everyday. He must be watching me, from somewhere. You need to look good for him. Dresses a little shorter, blouses slightly tighter, heels mildly taller. Your step has a new bounce to it. As strange as it seems to you, you feel happy inside again. For the first time in a long time and it shows. Even those around you have begun to notice. Frequently you are asked at work, about the new look, the new attitude. Even work is less frustrating. The days seem to fly by, except for those moments of fear that you might be caught.

Sitting at your desk trying to compose a letter to a disgruntled customer, your mind wanders. After the last encounter you have spent many hours trying to figure out whom your secret, love, or is it just lust, might be. Is it someone you work with? You have gone over in your mind every possible individual that you know, or have even seen in the building. No one seems to fit you know so little. He seems to be fairly well built, suggesting youth, but this is the nineties, and a lot of older men stay in shape. He must be fairly well off, judging by the interiors that you have managed to see. Thinking over all the prospects, nobody seems to fit the equation.

Strange though, its been over a month now, and no more contact. Maybe he's gone, gone for good. Would that be best, you ponder. Yes, best, but not what you want. This man, this invisible ghost has awakened you, brought you forth into the world of pleasure. Perhaps even the world of love. Can you love someone you've never even spoken with, someone that you are with only like you have been? Where does love begin and lust end, can they be the same, co-existing. This is a new thought. Would love be possible?

Perplexed, you rise, and make your way down the hall to the water fountain. The stroll, moving your mind from the complexities of this relationship, to the movement of the silk against the bare skin between your legs. You smile to yourself, enjoying knowing that the fabric is having its sought after effect, and those around you are none the wiser. If they only knew. The slipping over your hidden body takes you back, back to that magic moment, and that magic tongue. You moisten at the thoughts, a small burning starting deep within. You blush slightly at the thought that you are going to do again that which you swore never to do. A small sip at the fountain and a furtive glance around as you enter the ladies room. At least this company had a little taste here. In stead of the tile floors, surrounded by sinks, mirrors, and stalls, the room has been well done. 

Individual private toilets each with its own small door, runs down one wall. The opposite wall completely covered with mirrors. A small shower at one end is provided for those who like to work out at lunch. Hair dryers, hair spray, are all available. More like a locker room than most corporate bathrooms.

You glance around as you enter, checking to see if the private rooms are empty. You are alone, like before. Standing before the floor to ceiling mirror, you examine yourself closely. You look closely to the sheepish grin that passes your lips. You know, and your body knows what you are about to do, again. A finger nail traces lightly across the black body hugging dress flared at the waist into a full short skirt. You watch as your nipples arise to the tender touch. Another more strong crossing of your finger, and you savor the growing heat deep within. Your hands close full over you, your back arching into the clutch. You can detect the full hardness of the flesh underneath. Another squeeze, slow but firm, then with hands at your sides you admire the shape showing through the top of the dress.

Another glance around the room, still empty, must be the time of day, same as last time. You turn in the mirror, watching the skirt open with the movement. Enjoying the view from behind as you are given a glimpse of the red thong moving between your thighs. Hands press the material firm against you. Hips thrust to the contact. Second room to the right, you move in that direction. The little almost full door closes. Thank GOD it has a lock.

Quickly now, lest someone enter you reach under the skirt. This is not like the tub at home, this is hurried, a need to be fulfilled. Panties moving quickly down your bare legs. You step from them. Not wanting to let them rest on the floor. You seek a perch for the panty, none to be found. The material damp from you, carries the scent that you recognize so well. Resting them on your shoulder, you raise the skirt. Your hand slides across the full already moist mound. Then again, fully caressing that which has become so controlling in your life now. Another pass, and you smile with satisfaction at the wetness.

The room area too small to open fully you place one leg upon the commode, the other wobbly in the heel. Hand moving again back and forth, the motion repeated over and over. The sensations growing. You clasp the full of you in your hand. You feel how the lips have engorged, and spread themselves slightly. Slick and smooth like a newborn baby. The dampness covering you completely. Never until the last few months have you gotten this wet. Hand releasing and clutching again. A fingertip barely inserted. Hips out thrust, lust growing. One finger curled to reach in, hips moving you against the touch that you crave so much now.

Two voices, heard, women talking at the running sink. You hadn't heard them come in. Listening closely for signs of discovery you return to inward thoughts. Hips moving slower now, but the excitement is still there. Finger going deeper, lips clenched against the sounds. Giggling in the background. Two fingers moving deep. The other hand moving to that special spot. Circles slow and firm. Strokes from top to tip, and back to circles.

Two fingers moving out, the wetness following. Lips parting, wanting growing. Fingers move in slowly, strokes firmer. You feel the warm wetness within you. The soft hidden flesh surrounds your deep touch. Muscles inside crying out, fingers withdrawn. Three taken in, you open wider, savoring the intense pleasure. Stroking from the other finger faster, your hear the noises, from your body, seeming to echo off the walls. Still you climb. Fingers thrusting, again and again. Stretching you, that full feeling so needed. Your clit surrounded by your thumb and fore finger, stroked as if a man.

A door closing, silence again. Hands moving faster, fingers probing, and stoking, the top is there. Your muscles deep inside grab at your fingers, your hips move on their own. The stroking faster, more deliberate. The wetness, that is you, running over your palm and down to your wrist. One more deep push, fingers moving wildly within, your whole body coming together in that one place, a muffled scream, a flood of release. Still your hands touch, slower now, riding the wave back down. Gently you continue to stroke, body so sensitive now, too hard would make you scream. Heart slowing, eyes opening again, you flush with excitement and embarrassment.

Your scent fills the air musky, sexy. Your immediate need dissipates. The desire momentarily under control. Still, after the other night, not put to sleep. Seeking something to clean up with you realize that the roll is empty. Remembering the last taste, you bring your fingers to your mouth, enjoying the taste and the texture of yourself. Panties used to finish cleaning you straighten the rumpled dress, and open the door.

Two hands full of water splashed on your face, a paper towel or two later, you stop at the fountain again, on the way back to your desk. Flushed at what you have gotten away with again, you realize that this has to stop. But it feels so damn good. Now you know, feel, the constant need that has befallen you. Where has this come from? All you know is it comes from deep within and the need is great.



Silk Scarf Ch. 5



You hate Saturdays, always alone while Tim puts in the extra time he feels necessary to promote his career. Luckily you have learned to sleep late, letting half the day pass before awakening. Add to that the long hot bath, which you enjoy so much. Time spent preparing to meet the day, selecting the right look. It's usually after two before you leave the house. Seems like the errands grow every week. Cleaners, groceries, birthday presents, all roll into a long day fighting traffic out by the mall.

Still you do enjoy the shopping more now. Seeking out the finer lingerie departments, and the specialty shops. Everywhere you look now, you see outlets that before had gone unnoticed. Wisps of fabric clinging to anorexic mannequins placed with out regard to passersby, everywhere in the mall. Still they did prompt ideas in your new mind. Ideas that included play for a change. Ok, sexual play but at least play. Well almost.

It's been several weeks, and despite your manipulation you have been unable to elicit a response from Tim. Every night lying so close to that, which you desire so strongly, had left you almost empty inside. Even his gentle breathing in slumber irritates you. You two have talked less and less. You feel the doors of communication closing, perhaps for good. Still the love is there, but that is not enough.

"Ma'a" the sales girl startles you, "the gentleman asked me to pass this to you."

Another note the same as before. "Where, which one" you query, searching out the small shop.

You can tell from her perplexed look as she too scans the now empty shop.

"Well he was here just a second ago."

You turn to leave, to try to chase him down, and spy a single red rose wrapped in a very light blue pair of thong back panties setting on the counter.

Making your way out of the store you search both ways in the mall. No one looking back everyone normal, no one is moving swiftly away.

Back to the counter, you touch the rose and the panties. A smile crosses your lips. Purchasing them right then and there, you leave with the small bag, panties and the note tucked inside. A single red rose carried proudly before you, as if saying, see I am loved. Quickly you move to your parked car buried deep in the bowels of the mall. Heels clicking loudly as you rush over the concrete. Hand trembling as you try to get the key into the lock. Fumbling the door finally gives way. Collapsing into the seat you tear at the note. Eyes devouring every word on the page, as if it were your last meal.

Heart racing, you tell yourself you cannot comply. Yet deep within you know that you will. Already you are figuring out how to make it all happen. The way to get out alone, the excuses necessary. The embarrassment of going into that kind of store alone. All this floods over you, you reject it, and then sigh. You will comply. But tonight?

You race through town, completing the rest of your errands. Here and there the traffic always slowing you down. Finally home you carry in the groceries, go back for the cleaning, and the small bag, the rose, and the note. Now finally everything is put away. You find yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, re-reading the note. Can you do this? You check your watch, if you really hurry you can make it. Ok, the time is good, but can you actually do it.

You hustle into the shower, still not sure, but you are going to try. Quick shower, not much time for playing around. A grab at the razor, praying for no nicks or cuts, those hurt. The lather spread slowly. The blade against sensitive skin. This is so erotic.

The short hair filling the blade. Another few draws with the razor, and again smooth and clean. A quick rinse, and the same to both legs. Lucky this time, no injuries. You smile to yourself thinking back to high school, and all the nicks that you carried while learning to groom. You have become very proficient now, and the time necessary to get your legs smooth and soft is only a couple of moments. And even less for the more private areas, but a little extra time can be nice too.

The smooth silk of the panties moving over your newly shaven legs sends shivers through your body. Cheeks separated slightly to allow the thin band to rest itself against that most sensitive flesh. Quick trip to the mirror, a brush, and very little makeup. Heading down the stairs, you reach into the hall closet and extract the short thin beige coat with the belt. Standing before the hall mirror you watch in awe of yourself as the coat closes over nothing but the very thin light blue panties. The coat feels cool on the rest of your naked body.

Keys locking the door, and purse over your shoulder, you glance at your watch. Hoping the traffic is light, or there is no way you will make it. Naked body shivering in the cold coat, bare flesh felt against the cold car seat. A quick look around, the car into reverse, and out onto the tree-lined street in front of your house. Mind racing, for some unexplained reason you remember the first time you saw this avenue, and fell in love with the neighborhood.

You and Tim had been married almost a year. You were both growing tired of the little apartment that you had shared since marriage. Really it was Tim's "bachelor pad," but you had agreed to moving in there after your honeymoon, rather than looking for a new place right away. The space finally became too cramped, and you both agreed to look for another place. Strange though, Tim never seemed to have the time, and you had to do all the looking. Finally after six months you found the perfect home. One that you have lived in ever since. You are comfortable there. It feels like home.

One more right turn, and there it is. A large building almost blue in color with a flashing "adult" sign in front. This is one place you had never been to before. You caught yourself looking around the parking lot, checking to see if you recognized any of the cars. Or maybe worrying about your safety. The feel of the cold leather against your bare skin reminds you with a sudden start of how your dressed for this strange evening. Door open, legs pressed together, both moving as one, as you turn to step out of the little car. So far so good, nobody around, and no flashing on your part.

The heels a little wobbly as you move up the short flight of three stairs. You hands holding the long coat closed over your upper thighs. The cool evening breeze moving across your bare legs. "If nudity offends you" "adults only" signs blasts your senses. The words tacky and creepy come to mind as you reach for the handle.

You jump back as the door explodes open toward you. A stifled scream barely passes your lips. You stand in awe as perhaps the biggest man you have ever seen blocks out the doorway light and moves past you. A knowing smile, a curt nod, a whispered howdy "mam," as he moves to the side holding the door for you.

Video jackets everywhere, magazines piled on top of piles. Toys, dildos, vibrators, even handcuffs hanging on the walls. You move down one crowded aisle after another senses assailed by the various positions and contraptions, all captured on film. Looks range from boredom to ecstasy, captured on the faces on the actors. There are only a few people in the aisles besides you. At first you feel as though you are on display here, then you realize that each person is trying to ignore the other. Everyone there wants to be there, yet desire privacy and anonymity. Moving past a smallish man, thick glasses, and a runny nose, you make your way to the front counter. 

The till is managed by a man with longish blonde hair good looking of sorts, but barely old enough to even be in the store. You approach as the note said, and announce slightly, "I'm Stacey."

The young man looks at you, "so" he queries?

"I was told to check at the counter," you reply, the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Oh, its you, thought you would have been here already" he stated while reaching down behind the counter.

The bag was fairly large. It appeared to weigh several pounds, and was confirmed when passed to you. "Room 9, around the corner," he pointed. You followed his directions and moved off down the hall. Room 1, then two, some with green lights above some red, 6, 7,8, 9, last one. 

The knob doesn't even turn, a slight push and the door opens. The light coming on as the door swing approaches half way. Thank God it's not too bright. Just enough to light the worn brown love seat, a large TV across from the love seat, a control box on a small table. A waste basket a box of tissue, and one dim lamp. The door slams shut startling you. Your heart racing you reach for the lamp, the one weak bulb barely lights your hand turning the switch. You glance around and find the dead bolt on the door. Turning it, a reassuring click, and the light through the top of the door turns red.

Looking around again you realize that the little space is even tackier than you first realized. Stuffing coming out of several small holes in the loveseat. Table chipped badly on almost all corners. Carpet, what there is of it, seems to move of its own accord. Still the television looks fairly new, and the small control box on the table is definitely high tech.

Moving to the little sofa, you tuck the coat firmly under you as you sit on the very edge. Your skin crawls at the thought of contact with the stiff fabric. Legs clenched tightly together, heels touching you perch there, examining the large plastic bag. You reach out to open it, and a light knock comes from the door. Knock knock.. You hesitate, confused, then it returns, knock knock, softly.

Nervous, a little scared, you move to the dead bolt, the knob cold to the touch. Clutching it, you jump as the knock returns. Click, the bolt releases. Easing the door open, slowly, peeking past the edge, ladies shoes.

Black high heels, not to high, but enough to accent the shape of the perfect calves. Eyes moving up past the knee to the hem of the short black evening dress. Slowly upward your eyes drift. The contours of that before you perfect. Long black hair, covering partly bare shoulders. Deep tan, long thin neck. Oval face, almond eyes, beautiful smile. Gorgeous lady. Asian, at least partly.

You look into each others eyes, you questioning, and embarrassed, she confident, relaxed, knowing. The smile moving through her face, "I need to come in," lilted off her tongue as the long gloved hand reached around the door casing. Sliding past you with little effort, the next thing you realize, is the clicking of the deadbolt, and the light overhead going red.

Starting to speak, her finger moving to your lips in a silencing gesture. The warmth of the touch passing from the gloved hand. Tender and electric, the caress, as you look into her eyes. Body shivering from the moment, you remain silent.

Stepping back from you, to the side of the large television. You look closely at this beautiful creature. Head to toe, perfect. All your life you have wished to be able to look like that. Fingers sliding into the top of the glove, a long blue silk scarf retrieved. Floating, it lands on the table top in front of you. You know whom it is from, but do not yet understand what it means.

The large bag rustling, as she reaches inside. Videotape, no cover, inserted into the player. Her loveliness echoed on the screen. Dressed as before you now, you watch as she moves about the screen. Thin spaghetti straps moving off of small tanned shoulders, both on screen and before you. Her moves mirror the video. She can't be more than twenty. But she is so beautiful. Yet you are not gay or even bi. Even so you find this moment extremely erotic. Arms moving from the straps, music heard from the television. Her hips swaying in a seductive dance, you sit and watch mesmerized.

Dress riding up, exposing firm tanned thighs. You sit perched on the edge of the loveseat. Coat feeling warm in the heat of the room. Black satin bra exposed as the dress moves down. As in the video, nothing left to hold it up, it flutters to the floor, puddling at her feet. Still the body swaying, her gloved hands moving over her curves. You can just detect her nipples through the fabric, straining.

Your breathing coming faster, you can feel your heart beating, pace quickening. How can this be happening to you. You have never been interested in anything like this. Bra, panties, heels and gloves. All black, all satin. Her hands to the front clasp. The release. Her back arched, body thrusting toward you, the bra joins the dress. Hands covering no more, you stair unabashedly at the perfection. Full, firm, small tight swollen nipples. Her gloved hands moving over the swollen buds. Two fingers twisting. Your body awakening, a fire growing, you do not understand, but cannot ignore.

Tan lines dark, meeting light. Flesh tight, muscles moving, the dance continues. Your legs parting, moisture felt, heat coursing through you. Your eyes locked on her movements. Your eyes following her hands. Her hands moving to her neck. Hair brushed back, your eyes meet. You cannot look away, yet, her hands moving down. A knowing look from her as you give in and follow the movement. Gloved fingers under the thin band. Panties moving lower again light meets dark, her gloved hand covering the center of her. Panties falling to the floor. Television moving to the same tempo. She points to the television, and your attention is riveted. She stands still beside the set, as you watch.

On the screen, she has taken a chair. Sitting, hands moving over her own body, a long thin vibrator appears. No sound save for the light music from the set. Shinny pink plastic, moves over her. She standing beside the television, watching you as you watch her performance. Plastic moving across her lips, tongue wetting the tip, no, loving the tip. Hand on breast holding the weight, gently caressing as vibrator, reaches the nipple. Her head back now in pleasure. Vibrator moves lower. A rustle of the bag, and pulling yourself away from the vision produced by the set, you notice that she has the same tool in her covered hand. A sly smile crosses her lips, as she again points you back to the TV. 

Legs opening slowly, vibe moving across that which at one time had been covered. Now smooth. Completely bare, not a trace, looking so young, so beautiful. You gaze at the set, devouring the visions, as her legs part with desire for the moment. Her hips move forward, sitting on the edge of the chair, staring straight at you, as the vibrator moves between her legs. The shot is so close that you can see the moisture forming on the outside of her, the swollen evidence of arousal. The pink instrument glistening with her dampness as it travels over her. Legs open further, vibrator moving more boldly, you glance over to her, in real life, she is standing, holding a match for the toy, watching you. 

The change in the music on the set draws you back. The toy moving against her swollen clit, the pleasure evident. Lower the toy moves, inserted slowly. Your body moving against the feeling. You legs opening to accept. Your heat growing. Nipples enlarged, pressing against the rough fabric of the coat. You look back to the beauty standing before you. Pink toy at her lips, tongue moving over it. Music louder, her climax evident on the set, toy almost disappeared. The set grows dim, the sound fades.

She moves back to the center of the room, reaches down to the table top. Lifting the scarf, holding it out to you. Can you take it, can you not take it? You have never felt like this before. All so forbidden, yet so demanding. Head swirling, hands trembling. She moves closer, you detect her scent in the air, feel the heat from her unclothed body. You accept the scarf.

The last vision you have is of her smiling, toy buzzing, as she draws it across her own swollen tight nipple. Her thigh brushes against your own as she reaches behind you to make the knot firm. The soft silky graze sending shivers through your own body.

Darkness, silence. Time passing, you sit, wait, you feel her presence in the room and that is all. How long, doesn't matter. You are here, and have chosen to stay. Your entire being focused on this moment. Your desire evident, heart racing, you feel a gloved hand, then another on your thighs. Legs parted, you taste your own fragrance in the air. Embarrassed that you have felt this way in front of a woman, a beautiful sexy woman. The distance between your hot thighs increased, the pressure stronger. Hand on your shoulder, tilting you back on the loveseat. Your hands at your side, the belt of the coat falling away, buttons unclosed, folds of fabric opening, a coolness over your exposed flesh. You sit open before this beautiful woman. Need obvious by the wetness displayed in the thin silk of the panties. Body flushed with desire, nipples hard, aroused maybe more than ever. Is this what you have longed for, another woman. You have never felt desire like this. 

Pulled forward by gloved hands, so the coat may slide off bare shoulders. Leaning back, resting, breathing rapidly. Eyes covered, you know what she sees, you want this, but are in fear of the changes coursing through you. You could leave now, just stand and go. A tongue, rough, yet smooth, wet, moves lightly over your nipple. A quick suck of air at the contact, it feels so exquisite. You surrender. Whatever, wherever this goes you cannot turn away. Head lolling to one side, the breath escapes you as your surrender is completed by the full covering of your nipple and the gentle suckle.

Gloved hands moving over your body, touch soft, smooth. Caressing every exposed, bare inch of you. Like electricity moving over you small shocks at each halt of movement. Your hips moving on their own, inch further out over the edge of the loveseat. Legs brazenly open, gloved hands moving over your lower abdomen. Tongue moving over the opposite nipple, mouth taking it all. The draw harder. Your hips rising from the couch. Desire totally encompassing you. Your orgasm close. Gloved hand moving over the fabric between your legs. Body thrusting against the touch, the touch firmer, covering all that is you at this moment. The pressure enough. A long low groan, the panties wetter, your body quaking, your fingers digging into the dingy covering on the sofa. Hips driving against the touch of the gloved hand. Is it the climax, or those first moments afterwards, the beginning of the recovery that is so wonderful.

The room quiet again, her location unknown. Sitting there you feel your body, relaxing. Then you realize the sight you must be. All sprawled out like that. Your fingers close around the edges of the coat, moving to cover your exposure. As the coat comes off the couch, gloved hands stop you. Your arms are placed again at your side. The roaming on you begins again. Covered hands on your hips. Silky fingers in the waist band of the moist thin silk covering you. Can you let her see that which you prepared for a man just a short while ago?

Fingers, tugging gently at the waist band. Not wanting this you try to resist, but your body, and its need overcomes you. Hips rising slightly, you feel the panties moving down your thighs, over your bare knees and then the damp fabric at your ankles. Each ankle lifted one at a time. Panties over each high heel in turn. Gloved hand at your knees, slowly spreading them. Soft kisses on the inside of each thigh. Slowly moving upward. Trails made by the tender touch of her tongue.

Her still gloved hands moving over your breasts, tweaking the nipples, your desire flooding through you again. Kisses moving higher, tweaking firmer. Your legs open wantonly. Begging for more of that which you just received. Never have you recovered so quickly, never has the need grown so rapidly. Am I truly gay you wonder? Am I a lesbian?

Soft lips moving at the crease between lip and leg. Entire breast covered by a gloved hand and pressure increased. Tongue on the outer fold, hot and wet. Moving slowly, taking all of you. Near the top, a hesitation. Over to the opposite, tongue, moving again. The sensation almost more than you can stand. Hips moving against the caress, broadcasting your desire. Touch now gone, your need unsatisfied. Your hands lifted by the gloves. Fingers caressed, and stroked by her tongue. Wetness covers them. The toy pressed into your palm. The buzzing started. Hands guided to that which is in such need.




Silk Scarf Ch. 6



It's been over two months. Two long, drawn out months. Everything you do has been done with a mechanical edge. Memories, of that night flowing over you, unbidden.

The sensations, the visual, the physical, and of course the attached doubts. Why had you done that? What was it about you that came flooding out that night? She was so beautiful. So sexy, yet you had never imagined yourself with another woman like that. Oh sure, you had heard all the talk, the acceptability, but with you? Still even after so long the doubts lingered. What's become of you?

Now you can go nowhere, your appreciation for femininity, becoming fully developed. Noticing the youth, the way their hair drifts in the breeze as they walk. The spring in the step, the movement of unrestrained breasts, swollen nipples reacting to a chill. The curve of the waist, followed to the round hips. Long legs, tan in their short skirts. The eyes the all knowing eyes. You have been caught looking more than once. Even the young girl at the lingerie store seems to act differently toward you now.

Has there always been this undercurrent, this just hidden world? Your appearance always important to you has become paramount. You watch, not as closely, the men who pass, knowing that your look still has the effect, that makes you so confident around them. Now you watch their eyes. The ladies, the petite soft eyes moving over your passing frame. New clothes cover you now. More modern. The classic look tossed aside. Heels adorn you constantly now. The walk steady. Skirts and dresses only. Long thin legs flaunted at others. Sweaters and blouses a little tighter, bras seldom worn. Even the thought that another woman might notice you passing brings a thrill that moves over your skin and settles, tightening the light brown flesh of your chest.

Nipples constantly erect, soft fabric constantly moving intensifies the fantastic feelings that even now grow more and more within you.

The breeze across exposed thighs, why had you ever covered your legs. Short skirts hem brushing as material moves with your long confident stride. Looks from men and women, all noticed, seem to force you to stand a little taller. You have found yourself spending more time around groups of people.

Shopping more and more, but noticing the wares less and less. It is the desire to be seen that drives you. To know that the effect that the young ladies has on you, is shared by them. The knowing looks, the electricity passing between you and them. The sly smile, the tilt of the head.

Twice now you have found yourself parked just down the street from the little bar. Sure everyone knows about it, the town is not that big. You have sat and watched the door open and close many times. Day and night the gorgeous and even not so gorgeous women going in and out. No men, they are not welcome here. Once you had even gotten out of the car, thoughts screaming in your head, as you approached the large oak door. But at the last moment just passing by.

This morning as you went through your daily preparations, you caught yourself in the full-length mirror, on the bath door. Naked save for a towel wound in your wet hair. Standing there frozen, seeing all of you in a new light. Comparisons with the young Asian impossible not to make, yet satisfaction that you are still very attractive. Your movements, hesitant, slow and awkward at first. Duplicating the dance that was performed for you. Your eyes trying to see if you measure up. Watching yourself as another might. Hands grazing, hips moving, your eyes taking you in. Your feeling of watching another. Body reacting quickly. Legs opening, cool air passing between. Fingers traveling down. The soft smooth flesh already reacting to your thoughts. Fingers stroking, knees bending slightly, opening fully. You stand and tease the one watching, eyes moving over you like warm honey. Finger moving inside, the warm moistness felt, as if by another. Finger drawn slowly across the engorged bud. A tremble in your legs, an electric shock. Another passing and penetration. The stranger in you tweaking at your nipple. Your thoughts running. 

Your desire smoking within you. You watch as you move over the curves. Eyes open only enough to see. Hands and fingers exploring. Lips parted. Bud seen. Swollen pink, as your finger strokes. Hips assisting, movement required. Your assault slow and gentle as was the ladies the other night. You see as she did. You feel what she felt.

There watching you know deep inside that you must know the feeling of the return. The knowing that you can make a woman feel as one did you. Are you gay? The feeling this morning of Tim's sleeping erection pressed against you. The silky smoothness of that totally male flesh, the feeling of its hardness, against you, made you want that too. Gay doubtful, but still desires for a soft touch linger. You bring your wet finger to your lips.

In the mirror you watch as the stranger first passes the moisture over her lips. Smooth, not thick. Tongue moving out to taste edge of lip. Taste wonderful. Finger licked and stroked. The scent soft sexy. Do all women taste the same? Should you even be thinking these thoughts? Your finger moves deep within you again. The digit offered to the stranger in the mirror again. This time taken in as if a man. Sucked gently, tongue moving over the contours. Taste still new, but enjoyed.

Again, and again you repeat, bold now that the barrier has been broken. Eyes watching the stranger perform. All senses assailed. You watch as the lady before you exposes her desires. Treats you to that which is usually not shared. Both hands between your legs. Opening. Dampness on upper thighs. Colors never before noticed. Scent strong, driving you on. Unfolded before you the exposure complete. Finger tracing in small circles. Pleasure moving to a new level. Focused now. Strangers eyes watching. Circles moving never faster. A tempo established. A circle a stroke a circle a stroke. Eyes barely open, hardly able to see the stranger before you. Two fingers going deep, the circling never ending. Stretched taught. Feeling of fullness. Passion growing. You watch as the stranger performs. Your desire moving to the same level as hers. Fingers inside, an internal dance playing out. Movement felt within, constantly changing. Finger still circling and stroking the swollen pink bud. Wetness everywhere. Three fingers moving deep. Still the circling. Almost squatting now, the stranger in the mirror watches. Her movements fluid. Hips against buried fingers. Searching inside.

Hips rising, wet fingers exposed. Hips slowly settling. All watched. Stretched and full, the desire increasing. Closer the salvation comes. Faster the stranger moves. You are so wet, so full, your need so strong. The dance continues. Sweat begins to form on the brow of the stranger. Arms flexed, muscles defined. Legs aching with need. Still she performs. Her sex changing. Her swollen lips taught around the intruders. Still the circling, firmer now. Close, very close. A grind against the fingers, muscles pulling drawing clamping. Clit fully engorged. Finger now stroking. Sensations beginning to explode. You watch ever so close as the stranger, the woman before you, calls out, a long moan, a flood over your contained fingers, a release, an explosion. You watch you absorb, you enjoy. The peak reached. You let your hands drop. Exhausted you fall to the floor.

Eyes closed, laying there, awaiting the return of steady breathing. Heart pounding. Skin, alive on its own. Hips still rocking gently. Languishing in the time after. Leaning up on your elbows, eyes locked in the mirror. The stranger smiling back. Eyes moving over the body echoed by the reflection. Legs open, knees slightly bent. The vision enjoyed. The swollen pink flesh, the light dancing off the wetness. Still partly open, the sensations moving through you. Head back, you start to giggle, the giggle becoming a laugh, the laughter moving to tears. The momentary satisfaction complete.

Another bath soothing. The shower not even a consideration. Skin too sensitive. Scented oils moving over you. Coming down still, slowly from the plateau that you had so recently risen to. Mind wandering. Water warm and comforting. Realizations of buried emotions and desires flooding over you. Acceptance of new thoughts, the release of guilt. Slowly all that had been tied in knots within, washes away with the steam rising in the air. Acceptance brings understanding, understanding confidence. You are beginning to find your way now. Beginning to realize maybe for the first time, a total person within. Sleep overcomes, sleep of contentment.

Arousing slowly,the water cold. Quickly jumping out. A light headednessness felt throughout you. Urgently wrapping in a towel. The towel thick and large almost blanket, surrounding you. Tucked in at the top between your breasts. You move about primping, teeth clean, hair blown dry and simply pulled back. The coolness of opening the door and entering the bedroom again surprises you. Moving to the closet you set about selecting the proper attire for yet another lonely Saturday afternoon. Heels, only about three inches, black. Short black skirt, very short. Silk blouse, white, maybe just a little too thin, but that's ok. A mischievous grin passes. You find yourself enjoying this a little more each time. A conscious decision, black thong panties.

Two young men standing talking in the parking lot. You park near them. Door opening you watch them as they watch you exit the car. Legs opening a little more than necessary, to exit, you notice the appreciative glances. Turning your back, feigning oblivion, you bend at the waist to reach in and retrieve your purse. One more quick look at the two men as you move past. Knowing that they had enjoyed your little dance, put on for their benefit, heightens your spirits. An older gentleman holds the door for you as you enter the mall, a gracious smile, a beam from him in return.



Silk Scarf Ch. 7: The End



It came as always, unexpected, just as you had thought he was gone. Spirits lifted, hands trembling, fighting with the seal. Sitting at your desk, glancing around to see if anyone is taking notice of your behavior. Like a child on Christmas you tear at the wax held linen paper. The script the same, the thrill of reading still there. Turning away from the openness of the room you devour the words. The note short, the time even shorter. Glancing at your watch, you know you will comply. By now, with the experiences that you have shared compliance is not a question.

Changing the voice mail message on your phone, explaining that you will be out for the rest of the day. Drawers closing after replacing files that you have been working on. The sounds making you wonder if everyone around is watching you. Purse in hand, you rise to leave.

The elevator is slow, but this time only going up. Four floors to be exact. The floor that was once occupied by an up and coming internet based computer company, now vacant. Door opening stepping out. Room numbers, hall dimly lit. Walking slowly in the quiet empty hall, you find yourself a little apprehensive. Memories of that first corridor in that hotel, so long ago, yet so recent, assail you. A timidity that you thought had passed causes a tremble in your hand as you reach for the knob on the door of the room number you had been given. The door opening, the squeak echoing in the large open room. Empty save for a few dozen chairs strewn about in roughly a circle.

This room must be thirty to forty feet in all directions you realize. Ceilings at least twelve feet high. Placed in the middle of the sloppy circle, a small silver pedestal. Another note laying atop a bed of roses. A blue silk scarf adorning the silver stand as would a doily at Grandma's house. The blue so well known to you.

Winding slowly through the jumbled chairs, you make your way to the note. Again, the same script, the same paper. Looking around you hold the note close, as if trying to hide it from some unseen observer. Reading carefully, not fully understanding, you re-read. This cannot be. Now he has gone too far. To this you cannot comply. Heart racing, cheeks blushing at the thoughts running rampant in your mind. Searching for the shortest way back to the door. The chairs a maze are blocking your path. Senses reeling, have I really come this far? Note replaced on the bed of roses. Slow steps through the maze. Each one in turn harder than the last. 

What can he be thinking? How could he even suggest? Yet a yearning from deep within. Taking its time to surface. Each step away from the pedestal the request less foreboding. Others have done that. You wouldn't be the first. Another step toward the door. Slower than even before the hesitation evident. Could you? Really could you? Cheeks flushing again, embarrassment washing over you. Movement stopped. Mind going blank. Senses being drawn inward. Body responding surprisingly to the thoughts. Is this something that I can give? After being given so much how can I deny? Turning back, looking at the so well remembered blue scarf, the roses laid upon the silver stand. Mind screaming no, heart screaming yes. This gift you can give. This moment, this small window, repayment for so much. A step back. Another, and mind blanking again. Senses return as you realize you are holding one of the many roses in your hand.

Roses placed gently aside. Fumbling, fear, embarrassment, submission, moving through you. One fold, then another. Your thinking that this is the first time that you have had to fold the scarf. Is that part of this. Did he want me to know that? Another fold, the fabric cool against your fumbling fingers. A last look around as the scarf returns to its place so well known.

Standing still, statue like. Ears working overtime. Head turning at each creak in the building. Listening, absorbing sound, like sand does water. A click of the door latch like a gun shot in your ear. Body stiffening. Shoes shuffling. Chairs moving. Another click more shoes, more chairs. What was going on? Body trembling. Nerves on edge. More sounds, surrounding you. Head swiveling at each new one. Trying to discern location. More sounds, more sounds, senses overwhelmed. 

Not knowing how long, finally silence falls. Not a sound anywhere. Fading into your senses a soft compelling music. Barely there but growing. Now just heard for sure. A little more, the volume increased. The signal spoke of in the note. Still you stand. Who what surrounds you. The music re-starting a signal? Unable to move you realize tears are flowing. Body frozen time standing, waiting. Again, re-started.

A sigh, resignation, relief, a giving in. You concentrate on the music. Nothing but the music. Slowly you turn inward, finding yourself alone in there. The room fades from your mind. The dance begins.

You wonder from that place you have gone to, why all dancing seems to emanate from the hips. Jerky, no fluidity to your movements you try to find the tempo. Praying that your racing heart will calm enough so that you may really be able to hear the soft mutterings of the recorded sounds. Slowly over time, you find yourself less tense. The music becoming a handle that you can hang on to. Letting it envelop you, moving through you as if searching for that center that will calm you. Movement easier now, the feeling of the hem of the flared skirt that you wore today bouncing on bare thighs. Hips moving slow fear of the effect of the blouse moving across unbridled breasts, and the exposure it would cause.

The music becomes more sensuous. Hips moving in more animated ways. Focusing on your dance, you have always been proud of. Turning completely. Flared skirt blossoming cool soft breezes on your thighs. Blouse moving now, causing the effect that no longer concerned you. Music slipping in deeper. Taking control. The turns more frequent, the language of the dance more erotic. Hands and arms added to the skimpy repertoire. Hands outlining the contours of your body. Music settling in, the center of you coming alive. The thoughts contained now, only the dance perceived.

How long had this been going on, you knew not. Fingers reaching for the top button. Hesitant but excited. Never had a button been so difficult. The fabric opening releasing your heat, the coolness felt on the tops of your barely exposed breasts. Turning, become bolder, if it's a show that they want then it's a show they will get.

Another button a little more exposed. Your inhabitation's melting away. A thrill coursing through you. The dance continues, you moving in small circles, occasionally bumping gently against the silver pedestal, giving you a location to guide yourself by.

Blouse tugged gently from the hem of the skirt, tails hanging down. Thinking gladly that you hadn't worn the tight fitting crotch snap blouse today. Turning again, you open another button, and then immediately the last. There its done. The currents of air passing over exposed flesh, the thrill of being here doing this, combines to make your flesh seem alive. Blouse billowing out with each turn, surely they must see. Nipples almost painful so taunt. Full and erect. Proudly displayed here. First one shoulder then another, the blouse flutters to the floor. Stomach unconsciously drawn in. Hands locked behind head, back arched. The display proud and total. Body quivering with excitement. How can I do this? How can this feel so exquisite?

Your hands move, down your sides, then across the lean flat stomach. Hands searching upwards, warm flesh felt. The full weight carried in your palms. Breasts held out, hands massaging. Fingers moving to the tips. A small tweak, a groan escapes your lips. Still touching, still turning. The thoughts of the audience overpowering. The self milking, twisting, touching, caressing. Hips locked in the beat of the sounds. Fully involved now you realize what this has done to your body. Still caressing, turning again and again, fingers plying the soft warm flesh. You feel the sensations wash over you. You realize that you are there. Both hands full, thumbs and forefingers rolling, hips jutting, another firm pull, and you feel the release inside. The wetness the warm wetness between your thighs. A moan escapes, the sound awaking you to the visions the audience must be witnessing.

Embarrassment washes through you. Never before have you reached that place this way. What is happening to you? Never mind, another calling, your body in control now. Hips gyrating hands fumbling with the small tab on the back zipper. Not wanting to go further, unable to stop, the tab moves down. The skirt travels down, slowing at your hips. Another turn affords it movement and gravity wins out. Skirt on floor, hands covering breasts you realize how wet you really are. You can feel the fabric of the panties clinging to the folds of your body. Your cheeks turn red as you realize the light blue panties show your excitement to all. Still your hips move, your body enjoying the release.

Bold now, overcoming hesitation fingers moving over the band. Hands clenching the fabric at the sides. Thumbs in waist band, fingers curled through the leg opening, you pull them tighter. Teasing now, playing with the moment. Higher your hands travel following the shape of the material. Hands together, in front, fabric pulled firmly against you. The material outlining all that you have held most secret. The hips moving, fabric sliding over you. Another level reached. The need calling out to you. The desire overpowering. You rock slowly to the beat against the material. The silk pulled into a thin band, and held tight. Each movement another assault on you. The sensations growing, the music thumping deep within. Orgasm close, audience forgotten.

Waves falling, warm trembles throughout. Hips moving. Your entire being focused on the feeling of silk against you like that.

Head thrown back in abandon, another washes over you as you call out unintelligible words. Passion overcomes and the muscles inside scream. The total relief as you open the gates. The level new never experienced before. Silk, and thighs, wet. Hips slowing, to sensitive to move. Heart racing, music barely heard. And then you realize that you are not alone. Cheeks turning crimson. Hands releasing fabric. Palms covering nipples, the touch electric. Breathing begins to return. What have you done here? How has this happened?

No where to go, nowhere to turn. Exposed unable to run. Hands felt on your wrists. Pulling them away from their protective position. Releasing responsibility, your body relaxes. Giving control to whomever. You do know that there is a trust, a bond developed.

Hands gently moved behind your back. Cuffs placed on wrists. Cuffs joined together by something stretchy. You move against it and find it quite easy to get free from, should you so decide. Hands, not yours this time, caressing your back. Your body's immediate reaction surprising, heat welling up from inside. Same hands, moving lower on your back. You arch your butt up, the feeling so needed right now. What is going on with you?

An arm around your waist hand moving up your back, bending you forward. Only a little bit. Back still arched butt held high and proud. Panties slowly passing over flesh bare cheeks exposed. Guiding you in a slow turn, your ass flaming with the embarrassment. Smooth hands kneading the exposed flesh. The touch cool and exciting. Bent further forward, turned again as if on display, You know what all are seeing. Breasts, their own weight pulling them from your body. Nipples hard erect even still. Panties rolled down further, now you are sure it is plain to all that you have shaven. Panties falling past thighs, over calves. You make no struggle. One foot then the other removed, the panties grazing your body as they are lifted. Hands guiding, feet, separated until almost uncomfortable. You stand before all, naked, shaved, your mind screaming to run, your body winning, you succumb.

Hands strong and smooth inside of thighs, moving up. Your legs part more on their own. A tickling at the uppermost thigh, fingers gliding through the wetness you left. Circling in the moisture, covering your thigh, then the other. Your heat rising, betraying you again. Knees bending slightly. Your most wanton self displayed. The touch firm, lips parted. The scent of you in the air. One finger playing, just barely in and out, a rhythm created. Your need a focal point.

Now one hand in the front, another reaching in from behind. Finger still just barely popping in and out, but the other, the one in front, fully stroking you. Your clit too sensitive to touch too sensitive not too. Your hips thrust against the frontal intruder, you try to change the pace. But the tempo is established. You stand bare to the world no longer caring of witnesses. To move now would be torture to yourself. Another crescendo building. You hear your self, chanting to the touch "Don't stop" "Don't stop", nothing more than a whisper.

Building climbing, almost there. It stops, frontal assault denied. Hips crying out, moving on their own. Finger still popping in and out slower, penetrating deeper. Still you climb. Aware of others and not caring. Maybe even enjoying it. Body tensed, muscles trembling. Climbing. The ladder unending. Band in cuffs removed, hands free, you assail the area left alone. Fingers moving, climbing even more. Knees crouching in rhythm to the digits movement. 

Hands, bending you forward further. Butt fully in the air now. Your own finger stroking wildly. Soft kisses, tongue trailing across uplifted flesh. Gentle tickling between the two entrances. What a site you must be. One hand on your breast, another between your open legs. Another finger barely penetrating. Blindfolded, wet, hot and in need. The popping stops. Upraised cheeks separated. The removed finger tracing firm circles there. Oh God that feels good. Never before that entrance toyed. Its pleasure silent. Wet tracings evaporating slowly, the sensations new, forbidden, fantastic.

Finger probing deeper, you push against it. Your own finger never hesitating. Let them see me this way, anyway, just don't stop. The first joint felt. Muscle closing tightly. Finger withdrawn, and re-inserted. You try to resist. The sensations too strong. Your desire reaching new peaks. The sounds emanating from you low and continuous.

A zipper overheard. The sound penetrating your senses. The male hardness felt between your legs. Sliding in the damp. Soft hard silky, throbbing against you. Maneuvering the head parting your swollen lips. You feel the entrance. Cannot wait, finding a balance, you thrust hard on it. Deep deepe, all the way in. The thrill the feeling of fullness. Something for your crying muscles to clasp. The explosion, the relief, another thrust, another explosion. Your own wetness felt moving down your thighs. Hands holding hips from behind, a withdrawl a long slow every inch felt thrust. The grinding deep, your own finger clawing madly at your clit. Calling out, the waves wash over you unending. Another thrust, and another. The head felt as it burrows in, opening you, spreading you wide with its onslaught.

You scream within, a match for your own quivering voice, as the penetrator explodes within you. Hot inside, the pulsing bringing you finally to the top of the ladder. No more, you bend forward at the waist totally spent. Your own hands clasping your ankles attempting to find balance and strength. Your senses slowing, breathing rapid, but returning, heart still racing. Bent there your thoughts return. The fullness within you passing, slow withdrawal. 

Guiding yourself, you move to the floor. The fetal position the only comfort sought. Silence, how long asleep. Memories, ecstasy, joy, pleasure, sensations, all wash over you. Your movement slow limbs stiff, and sluggish. How long had it been? Your travels through this maze of pleasure, a few short months, a lifetime. Chilled, you try to focus. Blindfold still in place.

Fingers stiff, sticky, the scent of you still there fumble with the knot. Giving up, the scarf simply lifted from your eyes. The glare harsh eyes in pain. Closed you open them slowly, easing into the light. At your feet, clothes, yours, and a single red rose atop.

Dressing, you move toward the door, finding a path somehow through the chairs. The knob in hand a turn to examine the room. Disbelief making this all seem as a dream. Hand turning the knob. A lone figure in the corner shadows. Sitting quietly. Turning away from the unopened door you approach. Slowly, timidly, closer yet still unable to make out the features. Closer, still hidden by the shadow.

"Grandma"

Closer, the face just out of view.

"Grandma" the voice soft feminine.

The scene before you fading. "Grandma" more imploring than requesting.

"Grandma, are you all right?" The query.

Eyes opening, recognition. Young and beautiful beside you, your granddaughter. Twenty two, no twenty three now. 

"What is it"?

"Grandma, I was so sacred. You wouldn't wake up. Where did you go."

"Just a dream sweet one, a memory of a gift your Grandfather gave me one time. A long time ago."

"Tell me!"

"No, this is something that I cannot share with you. Stacey, my time to leave you is now. I am happy, content, and ready to be with your grandfather again. "

Tears forming in the young ones eyes lower lip trembling.

"Please don't cry, it is my time. I love you sweet one with all my heart. Remember this. Your father and mother gave you my name. I pray they have also given you my heart. Follow it where it leads you. Enjoy all that passes take nothing for granted. Cherish those around you, and remember I loved you." 

The young girl, tears flowing watched silently, a glaze passed over her Grandmothers eyes, a gentle smile came to her lips, and her Grandmother's clutch to her hand softened.