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Old 07-15-2008, 03:01 PM   #1
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This is a blackmail roleplay between myself and Sierra.

It took 4 months to complete and will be posted in 14 installments.

For those of you who usually don't read other people's RP's, if you are familiar with mine you will know that they are not the standard "action and reaction." They are detailed stories co-written with my partner, where both of us contribute something new in each post and both sides of the tale must be read to understand the entire events.

This was Sierra's first long term roleplay and she was excellent.

“Before you criticize a woman, you should walk a mile in her shoes. That way, when you criticize her, you are a mile away and you have her shoes.”

Last edited by Rogue; 07-15-2008 at 03:03 PM.
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Old 07-15-2008, 03:02 PM   #2
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Default Part 1

I trudge up the front walk. I am desperately tired and every inch of my body aches. As I reach the front door I hear people talking and laughing inside. I pause under the porch light, digging my compact out of my purse and checking my face. To my horror, mascara marks the tracks of tears down my face, which I hurriedly wipe off with the back of my hand. I try to smooth the wrinkles out of the pretty black dress. Straightening my shoulders and trying to keep my feelings off my face I open the front door.

My parents are sitting on the sofa watching television and chatting. They turn as I come in and smile. “How did it go?” my mother asks anxiously. “Fine,” I said. I pull a folded piece of paper out of my purse and hand it to my father. I see the tension drain out of their faces as they read it and sigh in relief. After a moment I see a cloud cross my Dad’s face as a thought occurs to him. “Was he a gentleman?”

I want achingly to tell him, to fall into his arms like I used to do when I was a little girl and have him make it all better. But if I told him, then what? There would be an investigation and by the time the trial was over my beloved Dad would be dead. “Yeah, it went fine.” I can’t hold it together much longer so I tell them, “I’m tired. I think I might be coming down with something, so I’m going to bed.”

Before they can say anything I run up the stairs and tear off the black dress. My anger and pain wells up and in a fury I cut the dress into pieces and throw it away. I can’t wait to get into a shower and I run the water as hot as I can stand, soaping myself all over. Wearing my fluffy robe I throw myself down on the bed and finally give way to my emotions. Over my muffled sobs, I hear a knock at the door and my boyfriend walks in. My parents hadn’t told me he was here. For the first time in our relationship I wish he would leave. He sits on the bed and asks me what’s wrong. “I’m just worried about my Dad”, I tell him. “Tessie….Your folks told me about the dinner.” His eyes go around the room and widen when he spots the shredded dress in the waste bin.

My robe slips open a little, revealing the hickey on my neck. I quickly pull the robe closed but his hand gently pushes my hand away. With hurt and confusion in his voice he asks, “Oh, God, Tess. Did you sleep with him?” I can’t lie to him, but I can’t find the strength to answer him, either. His face goes hard, and he gets up and without a word walks to the door.

My body racked with sobbing I yell, “Tommy! Wait!!”

I back the car into the driveway, careful to avoid my wife's plants on either side. I switch off the engine and grab the shoes with two fingers. The front and sliding doors are locked once I am inside, no one will be going out anymore tonight. Lisa is making herself some coffee in the kitchen. She hears my keys rattling and asks should she make another.

“I just need a glass of water actually”

She looks curiously at the footwear; they were placed on one of the stools. I get a glass from the press and fill it three quarters with the tap. She tells me Joey is still up and his little sister was just put to bed. He must be going for the high score in Guitar Hero again, I think to myself. The young boy himself runs in in his pajamas and I pick him up when he goes to hug me.

“Daddy, Mom threw away your dinner, I told her not to”, he says.

“Ah it’s ok, that’s because she was giving me brussels sprouts again…yuck!”

He puts his finger in his mouth at the same time as me to show his disgust. I tell him to get to bed, but he has to brush his teeth first. Lisa smiles at us as he waves goodnight. Once he is gone, she says I really need to give more notice next time and asks what the high heels are for.

“She gave them to me, I guess she noticed me checking them out so many times….”

“What are you talking about? You said you were meeting a client. An old guy or something”, she interrupts with.

“I guess he was under the weather, he sent his daughter in his place. Just some paperwork that needed to be done.”

She asks me why she would just give me her shoes, that it doesn’t make any sense, as I remove my suit jacket and throw it onto the sofa. I remove the knotted tie from my pocket and unbutton my white sleeve cuffs.

“When you do something selfless for someone, for a person’s family, they can be very grateful.”

My partner sits against the washing machine, not a sip of her drink taken since I arrived. She is looking down at the floor and silent. That is, until she asks if she was pretty. I say she was very attractive, but a bit young for me.

“So that wasn’t all you were looking at”, she says with an awkward chuckle. She can’t even look me in the eyes - she knows she will read me like a book. This is the moment a woman wants to be complimented and feel wanted. I lean in and hold her hips. She turns her cheek when I attempt to kiss her, choosing to pout instead. I notice the lipstick on my collar and lick my finger to try and get it off.

“Christian, I’m only going to ask this once….Did you fuck that girl?”




She slaps me firmly upon the second response and storms out, her cup smashing on the floor. I toss the rest of my water in the sink and hold my face. Lisa's footsteps pound up the stairs. Walking into the living room, I plug out the Playstation and find the largest cushion. I think I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.
“Before you criticize a woman, you should walk a mile in her shoes. That way, when you criticize her, you are a mile away and you have her shoes.”
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Old 07-17-2008, 02:31 PM   #3
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Default Part 2

Hours earlier

I’ve been dating Tom for about a year. We met at a party and had barely been apart since then. I dated a lot of guys in high school and college, but Tom is special, and I am having to face the fact that I have fallen hard for him.

Tom picked me up from work while my car was in the shop, and we sit in his car chatting and holding hands for a bit before I have to go inside. Suddenly Tom gets serious and looks me straight in the eye. “Tess, I want to take you someplace nice tonight. Why don’t you get dressed up and we’ll go to Tony’s for dinner. I have something important I want to talk to you about.” A thrill goes through me. Tony’s was the place he had taken me on our first date. Could he be taking me back there to ask me to marry him? I would be so happy and proud to be his wife! “That sounds wonderful, Tom. I’ll be looking forward to it!” I kiss him and almost skip up the walk, excited and happy.

Hours earlier

“Can I get you anything Dr. Miller? Some coffee?”

“No, thank you, I can’t stay long”, I respond.

They are eager to please, which is understandable. Harry and his adoring wife, her hands clutching his on his lap, have been sitting on their sofa for a few minutes now. He already made his case over the phone; I wouldn’t have lasted the hour’s drive without any details. I study the room. It is a warm, welcoming home, but a little on the dull side. The television is wide in build but not widescreen nor HD. I stand beside the mantelpiece, where family pictures are spread proudly across it. It intentionally demonstrates the lives this situation will touch. The couple wait patiently and nervously for even a hint of a decision.

“Dr...”, Harry interjects.

“Please, call me Christian”

“Christian….I know I wouldn’t call us good friends or anything, even back then, but you have to understand, I didn’t know where else to turn….”

“Is this your daughter?”, I ask, picking up one of the portraits.

“Em…yes that’s our Tess.”

“What's her size, Margaret? 8?” I put to the wife.

She looks curiously at me, then Harry, and comes back to me again. She confirms my guess, after Harry urged her to answer. The photo of young Tess with a gentleman gives me an idea of her height. I tell them I need to get going and walk to collect my coat on the rack. They jump up to their feet and look for answers. “Wait, I don’t understand? Does this mean you’ll do it?”

“I’ll put it all in writing tonight.…over dinner with your lovely daughter. My assistant will be in touch with the time and place.”

Tess’ father attempts to begin a mini celebration, but her mother wishes to update me on her eligibility first. “Dr…Christian, Tess isn’t, I mean, she’s not single…..” I smile and let myself out, wishing them both a good evening.

I went inside, dying to tell Mom about Tom and what I think might happen that night. Dad called out to me. “We’re in here, Honey.” I rush in to them, bursting with my news, but the look on their faces stops me in my tracks. Mom looked anxious and worried and Dad looked serious and sad. That wasn’t unusual lately. Dad had been having health problems the last couple of years. Dad’s health kept him from working and forced Mom back to work. I even had to quit school and get a job just to keep the mortgage paid and food on the table. Dad had become increasingly depressed, especially after the insurance ran out.

“We met with that friend of mine, and we think he will do the operation,” Dad says. “That’s GREAT!!” I said, daring to feel hope for the first time in a long time. “So why the long faces?” My folks looked at each other. “I have a favor to ask of you, honey,” he said. “He wants to have dinner with you, just this once. I hate to ask you to give up your Saturday, and I’m not sure why but he told us he’ll only sign the contract with you, alone.”

Mom says, “Harry, I’m not sure about this. Why would a man of his age want to have dinner alone with Tess?”

“Margaret, he’s a married man and is a respected doctor. He’s not going to do anything that’s not right. Besides – they’ll be in a public place.”

“Dad, you know I’d do anything to help,” I said, hugging him. “I’ll have dinner with him if you want me to. Just let me know when so I can plan.” I start to run up the stairs to get ready for my date with Tommy.

“He said tonight. He’s going to let us know where.”

“But Dad….I have a dinner date tonight! I can’t just cancel it this late.”

My folks are silent for a minute. “I’m sure Tom would understand if you change it, Tess.” “But…but…Mom…” I turn around to face my parents. They have identical looks of appeal and helplessness on their faces, weirdly giving them the aura of twins that many long-married people have.

“I guess so……” I say glumly. I trudge up the stairs and sit down to send Tom a text message. “Tom – I have to do something for my folks toni…..” No, that won’t work. “Tom – Dad asked me to……” No good. I sit on the edge of my bed trying to figure out what to tell him.

Fortunately the traffic isn’t as bad on the way home and I make it in just over 40 minutes. Knowing I’ll only be here a short time, I park the car on the footpath in front of our driveway; it'll be out of the way by the time Lisa is back from her shopping. Amy, the babysitter, lets me in and my daughter is playing with her toys in the sitting room. I kneel down and kiss her. She will be going to school this year; they grow up fast.

”Daddy’s going to fix a man’s heart this week baby, can he borrow yours until then?”

She shakes her head, still looking down at the dolls. “It’s just a loan, you won’t even miss it!” I insist, tickling her from behind.

“No!” she giggles. I see Amy smiling at us over my shoulder. She is an Asian woman in her 30’s.

“Tess is a pretty name, isn’t it?”

“Why? Are you starting to wish you named Katie that?” she wonders.

“No…maybe the next one”, I answer, rolling my eyes. I go upstairs to use the bathroom and then call my assistant. She doesn’t sound impressed with the distance she has to make by this evening but it is what she is paid to do. Well, mostly answering phone calls, but this is important too. She writes down the details, the address, the dress and the size. I stress that I want matching high heel pumps, about 4 inches.

“None of this open toe bullshit….you know, the ones you’ve seen Lisa wear….here I’ll just send a picture.”

After I hang up, I find the heels from my wife’s closet, propping them up on the floor. I crouch down to get the snapshot with my mobile, with the words “6:30!” attached to the text message.

I hear a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” I said. My mom came in with a puzzled look on her face. I held up my red dress in one hand and the blue flowered skirt and blouse in the other. “I’m glad you’re here, Mom. Which one should I wear?”

“Either one would be good, Honey, but someone’s at the door who wants to talk to you.”

I run down the stairs and see a pretty young woman standing there with a bag in her hand. “I’m sorry I’m late. Attila the Hun expected me to shop and make it over here in an hour, and the traffic sucked.” “Who’s Attila and what are you talking about?” She smiled and handed me the bag. It had Donna Karan printed on the side and a note pinned to it. “Joel’s. 8:00.”

The woman turns to leave. “Um…what’s he like? Does he like to come on to girls?” She looks back and says "I guess he does a little more since...." She pauses so long that I say, “Since what?” She gives me a long look. “Have a good time,” she says and walks away.

My parents come over and ask what I have. I opened the bag and pull out a black silk cocktail dress and a pair of black pumps. My parents exchange surprised and worried glances as I slowly climb the stairs to get ready.

Dressed and ready, I go down the stairs, where my dad is waiting in the entryway. “Honey, here’s some cash for a cab. If he tries to get fresh with you, just leave. You are the most important thing in the world to me and getting this guy to do the operation is not worth him trying to take advantage of you. We’ll figure something else out.”

As I stand there, I realize that the black shoes are not comfortable enough to wear all evening. I run up and change to my favorite black shoes – a pair of strappy evening sandals. Mom sees me changing and tucks the pumps in my large bag. “You never know,” she says.

The cabbie honks his horn, and I get in and tell the cabbie to go to Joel’s. I’ve never been there. It’s the most expensive restaurant in town – way too expensive for us.

When I get there, the doorman opens the heavy brass door. The thick carpeting and rich woods are impressive, and an even more impressive Maitre ‘D comes over and asks if I have a reservation. “I’m meeting someone here. My name is Tess Williams.” He consults his clipboard, but tells me I’m not on the list. "I’m meeting someone." “Would you like to wait?” I sit down in one of the plush chairs to wait.

While I'm sitting there trying not to be jittery, I start to look around and notice some of the patrons. There are a couple of tables where men are sitting alone, and I wonder if maybe one of these men might be my date for the evening. I wonder to myself what he looks like and how he will act. I try to calm my nerves as I wait to see what will happen next.
Although the most incisive judges of the witches and even the witches themselves
were convinced of the guilt of witchcraft, this guilt nevertheless did not exist.
Thus it is with all guilt.
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Old 07-20-2008, 10:41 PM   #4
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Default Part 3

I stay a little longer than expected in Lisa’s room. Our favourite photo of us together rests on the dresser, that day at the pier, with the wind blowing so strong our hair was a mess. We have certainly not been as happy as we were then, only 4 weeks prior to our wedding. Those huge smiles on our faces showed a belief that the perfect marriage was on the way. By now, as I stare at it, my assistant is surely rushing my requested shopping and hitting the road to Harry’s house. I sit up off the bed and the footwear is placed back in the closet. In my own, my best suit is picked out, with the loafers collected from the floor. Once I am dressed, I find everything else I need in the bathroom, deodorant, hair gel etc. I’ve already shaved this morning but some cream is required. I take care of myself. Women desire me as much as they did twenty years ago, my body is still in good shape while my ace of clubs gives me the confidence to get anyone I want. I say my goodbyes to Katie and the babysitter and return to my car. I only get as far as putting the keys in the ignition when I feel the urge to telephone my wife. With a press of the right speed dial, she’s soon on the other end, but I do not begin with a hello.

“I forgive you…..”

“Christian? What do you mean?”

“I just wanted to tell you, I’ve been doing some thinking and….I still love you, I think we can get past this together”

“Oh honey, that’s wonderful, do you want me to come home early and talk about it? I just have to pick up Joey from his friend’s house and….”

“No, we can’t see other yet, that would ruin it. I’ve to meet a client, the one I told you about this morning, might be a little late tonight."

“I don’t understand Christian, why does the meeting have to happen first? Will you be home for dinner?”

“Bye, I love you”, I finish.

I hang up the mobile and watch her name vanish on its screen. It is folded over and stuffed back in my jacket pocket. I’ve spent so long here the sitter is pulling back the curtains, wondering what I’m up to. She receives a little wave for her troubles, as I steer the car off the path and head for town. It was a good idea to leave early with traffic bringing me to a standstill on a main road. Later, a damaged vehicle accompanied by a toe truck on the side is revealed as the culprit. I reach the restaurant and give my keys to one of the monkeys outside. It is not quite 8:00 yet so the newsagents across the street can kill some time. As I scan the paper headlines, and pick one up, a taxi pulls up to the curb in front of the store. Though it is dark and difficult to see from here, the woman stepping out at least resembles Harry’s daughter from the photo. She looks both ways, and even with the passing cars, I expected to hear the clicking of those stiletto’s in the ground. I take a moment to text Lisa a question, and in that time, my assumption is that young Tess will have been asked to take a seat.

“Dr. Miller, how are you sir?” Gabriel asks as I stroll through the doors. He has already reserved two seats for me, even though I didn’t specify over the phone, and he asks if it is a “Ms. Williams” I’ll be dining with this evening. I look over my shoulder to see the lady herself waiting nervously, playing with her hands a little. It seems she overheard and has already sat up, cautiously stepping towards us.

“Hi, I’m…..”

“It’s wrong…..fix it”, I interrupt, privately, leaning in a little to do so. She is taken aback, examining her body and dress to find the problem. I rest my chin in my palm impatiently.

“Look, maybe this was a bad idea….”

A lean, dark-haired man who looks to be in his late 30’s or early 40’s comes into the restaurant. After a brief discussion with the maitre‘d, he turns to look at me. My heart in my throat, I put on a smile and rise to introduce myself. “Hi, I’m…”

His look freezes me in my tracks. “It’s wrong. Fix it,” he says, glancing down with icy disapproval from my head to my feet. Bewildered, I look down at myself. The dress he sent had been neatly pressed, there were no runs in my stockings, my hair and makeup were perfect. I look at him, confused. He was leaning on the small entry table, resting his chin in his hands. “Look, maybe this is a bad idea.” Panicked, I remember that glance at my feet.

“No, please……I’ll make it right.” I ask a passing waiter where the ladies’ room is and once there I put my black sandals in my bag and put on the pumps. Thank God my mother had insisted I bring them!! After a glance in the mirror to make sure my lipstick hadn’t smeared, I rush out to rejoin my “date” for the evening.

His face instantly relaxed when he saw me, and his face was transformed by a boyish smile. “You must be Tess,” he said. I extended my hand for a handshake, but he flustered me by raising it to his lips. “I’m Christian Miller. Thank you for meeting me, my dear.” We waited only a few minutes. Dr. Miller, perhaps realizing I needed a few minutes to gather my scattered wits, chatted and smiled until we were led to our table. He waved the waiter away and held my chair himself, making sure I was comfortable before taking his own seat. The busboy pours water for us, while Dr. Miller continues to chat.

“Thank you again for agreeing to have dinner with me. May I call you Tess?”

“If you want to. You certainly seem to be a man who knows what he wants,” I say. I’m still stung by his peremptory orders when we met and I give the vague compliment reluctantly.

The man gives me a wry smile, leans over to point at my bag, and says, "Somebody must have known that already." I realize that he is helping himself to a good look at my legs while he does so, and I become even more uncomfortable. This charming and powerful personality has taken the upper hand from the moment of our meeting - and he knows it.

The waiter comes and hands us our menus. I open mine and the prices take my breath away. Our family could eat for a week for what it cost for one simple dinner! “I think I’ll have the pork chop,” I say faintly, picking the least expensive entry on the menu. “Tess, I’m paying for this. Please order what you want - don’t look at the prices." I look over the menu in some confusion. It's written mostly in French. "Would you like me to order for you? I eat here frequently.” I nod my head and Dr. Miller orders the recommended special and a bottle of wine that cost more than I make in a week. While he orders our dinner and discusses options with the waiter I look at the man across from me. He is strikingly good looking, with his dark hair well cut and short, piercing blue eyes, a strong jaw and a slightly cruel twist to his lips. He has a tall and slender but powerful body and is wearing a well-tailored suit of rich material. His hands are well kept with strength in them, befitting a surgeon.

He turns to look at me, recalling me from my musings.

Harry’s daughter, not far off her 21st birthday, is unnerved by my complaint and struggles to find the reasoning behind it, even touching her lipstick at one point. One could say it is right under her nose, being the strappy sandals she has incorrectly chosen for our date. By now, Gabriel has left us to ourselves, but finally something clicks in her mind as a waiter walks by with some champagne.

“Excuse me, could you tell me where the restroom is?”

I know ladies think make up and a bathroom mirror can solve everything, but I’m not sure about this one. I wait for her in the same place, signaling to the Maitre ‘D that things are still up in the air when he checks on me again. A couple of minutes later, I see the ladies’ door swing open and Tess’ patent leather heels stepping out. She has returned in the complete outfit provided to her and is just as stunning in it as I imagined. My look of discontent is replaced by one of satisfaction and I acknowledge her name for the first time. I surprise her by taking her outstretched hand to gently kiss instead of shake. I introduce myself and thank her for joining me.

First impressions of people are made in the first few minutes, and I make a decision to have this take place alone, to an extent, rather than among the routine of conversing with busboys. We discuss the little things, such as her transport to the restaurant, and are eventually guided to our table. I step in front of the waiter and pull the lady’s seat out for her. She allows me to call her by her lovely first name and adds that I “seem to be a man that knows what he wants.” Don’t I know it; the remainder of this evening will prove no different. I lean down to tap her handbag, surely containing the ugly sandals, and give a disguised thank you to whichever parent put the pumps inside before she left. With a view under the table, I take the opportunity to stare at her gorgeous legs a moment. She awkwardly brushes back her curly hair until our face to face stance is restored.

One of the staff hands us two tall red coloured menus. I watch Tess above the edge of mine, not paying much attention to the selection at all. She has slate-blue eyes, framed by blonde ringlets, with a hint of baby-doll pink colour on her lips. Her face is smooth and innocent, and the dress hugs her petite figure. She has silky legs which are accentuated by the four inch shoes on her size three feet. When she chooses one of the cheaper meals in pork, I remind her that I am paying for this bill in its entirety. Suspecting that she is finding difficulty with the language, I order the special that the waiter mentioned and a $490 bottle of wine.

“And your Chateau d'yquem, 1995 please, thank you.”

Once he is gone, I notice Tess studying me and I turn to her. She is obviously preparing to say something that has probably been on her mind since she found out about this arrangement.

“Dr. Miller…..”, she begins.


“I just want to make sure we’re clear, nothing is going to happen here, Christian.”

“Tess, I’m married. Married 13 years.”


We’ve had our ups and downs, like most couples, I explain. Reaching for the wallet in my back pocket, I take out a picture of the family four, Lisa, Joey and Katie with me at a holiday resort last year. She leans across to view it as I tell her that the kids are by far our greatest accomplishment. I didn’t think I’d make a good father, but I’m now glad I am because I love them more than anything. She searches my eyes, perhaps for sincerity. Just then, my phone beeps, and I put the photo back inside its compartment. She wonders if that could be my wife, and what she would think of me dining with another woman instead of being at home. “See for yourself”, I answer, with so much confidence, that I let her read the text message before I do. I turn the phone around and place it between the many knifes and forks surrounding her.

“My wife knows I enjoy the company of beautiful women.”

He looks at me appraisingly, and I realize that I need to let him know that I’m not interested in more than dinner. I take a deep breath and start in.

“Dr. Miller…”

He interrupts me. “Christian.”

I hesitate, but then go on. “I just want to make sure we’re clear. Nothing is going to happen here, Christian.”

He looks me straight in the eye and says, “Tess, I’m married. Married 13 years.”

Worse and worse! Does he think I’m just an easy conquest?

“Happily?” I ask him in a challenging tone.

He explains that like most couples, they have had good and bad times. He pulls out his wallet. He takes out a picture of a smiling family – himself with a pretty woman on his arm and two excited young children. There is water in the background and they are obviously on vacation. He talks easily and with great affection about his children, saying they are his greatest accomplishment, how he didn’t think he’d be a good father and how much he loves them. His face softens as he talks about his children and I watch a transformation in this man. His cold blue eyes warm as he expresses his love for them, and he becomes less imposing and more human. I can’t help but like him at that moment.

I hear beeping coming from his pocket, startling in the hushed atmosphere of the restaurant.

“Is that your wife?” I ask.

“Yes, it is.”

I feel compassion for the pretty woman in the photograph. What does she feel? What does she think he is doing?

“What would she say if she saw us right now? Would she mind that you are here having dinner with me instead of spending time with her at home?”

He turns the phone around immediately and sets the phone down for me to read the text message written on it. “See for yourself.”

I lean over to read the message, from “Lisa”, which said "Joel's, 8 o' clock! "

“My wife knows I enjoy the company of beautiful women.”

I stare at him in amazement. I wonder if his relationship with “Lisa” could possibly involve that much trust or if she is just blind. Could any woman be content to allow her husband to wine and dine other women?

“Christian, even if you weren’t married, I wouldn’t and couldn’t get involved with you. I have a boyfriend.”

"Oh yes, this boyfriend of yours. What is his name?"

“Tom. We were supposed to be having dinner tonight.”

He makes an unconvincing apology for asking me to change my plans and asks how long we’ve been together.

“About a year.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s starting out in a law firm.” I’m starting to get uncomfortable. Why does he want to know all this?

“Were you two celebrating some particular occasion?” The last thing I want to do is to tell this man my hopes and dreams of a possible engagement. I mumble a vague negative and start fussing with my silverware.

"So what did you tell him you were doing tonight?"

I pull out my cellphone, open it and turn it around, in conscious imitation of what he had done earlier.

“I told him the truth. See for yourself.”
“Before you criticize a woman, you should walk a mile in her shoes. That way, when you criticize her, you are a mile away and you have her shoes.”
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Old 07-23-2008, 03:20 PM   #5
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Default Part 4

She lowers her head to read Lisa’s text, and I gauge from her reaction that she sent exactly what I wanted. I rotate the phone again to look at it myself; it says the name of this restaurant, the time we scheduled to meet up here – and a smiley face no less. Tess’ eyes glance up at me, astonished that my wife can be fully aware and comfortable with her spending the evening with me. As I snap the phone closed, it’s explained that my commitment to family isn’t the only factor. Margaret hinted this earlier, she has a boyfriend. His name is Tommy and he was originally her date this Saturday night.

“Oh, my apologies for the inconvenience, Tess, I didn’t know you had plans. How long have you two been together?”

A year, she says. I continue to ask personal questions about this man and the more they come the more uneasy she appears to feel. Our good friend Tommy is an upcoming lawyer. When I ask if their planned dinner was a special occasion, all I get is a mumble of “no”, and she begins to retreat into herself. I’m not finished yet. She knows the reaction to this meeting from my side, but now the lie she surely told her boyfriend has me very curious. She reaches into her handbag and takes out her own mobile. “See for yourself,” mimicking my previous line.

“It’s ok babe, do what you have to do, my surprise can wait until tomorrow!”

I smirk at the text, snatching the phone from her fingertips without permission. I scroll down to read more of the details and notice that it was sent only ten minutes before 8:00. Tess is stretching her hand towards me, politely asking me to return it to her. I say that I noticed the couple side by side in a framed picture in her living room. Thinking back to it, he has a long, layered hairstyle, some facial hair and is probably in his early twenties.

“Really Tess, you can do better”, is my honest opinion. I finally hand back the mobile, slipping it underneath her hand and forcing the young girl to flip it over to retrieve it. Our hands clasp, and I squeeze her gently with my thumb until I finish speaking.

“I do hope you take his advice, though.”

She promptly pulls away, ensuring that we maintain eye contact in the process. We are in our own little world for a short time, with the voice of the waiter bringing this awkward moment to an end. Those glaring blue eyes are re-directed to the sight of her plate landing on her side of the table. This is the amuse bouche (“amusement for the mouth”), the introduction to our dinner. We have a trio on one plate, consisting of Hamuchi on toasted garlic brioche, goat cheese in a tomato gelée, and a glass of basil soup with shrimp fondue.

“The chef recommends we eat from right to left”, I enlighten Tess.

She doesn’t respond, trying to decide on the correct spoon instead. I watch her eat, rarely attending to my own food. She sips her soup and waits for it to cool. The silence between us has lasted a few minutes now. I bend down to collect a black folder I brought to the restaurant, which had been resting against the table leg. Some paper clipped sheets are the contents, removed and carefully placed to the side of my dish.

He starts to read the text from Tom, but snatches the phone from my hand. My indignation rises as he scrolls down the screen.

It had taken me almost two hours to try to come up with an excuse that I thought Tom would accept. I really hated to break our date and I am feeling guilty about it.

“May I please have my phone back?”

Instead, he says softly, "I saw him. He's the guy next to you in that photograph on your mantlepiece."

My mind drifts back to when I first realized how I felt about Tom. It was New Year’s Eve and we went to a fancy party at the Hilton in town. There was a photographer there and on a whim we had our picture taken. At midnight, he had kissed me and told me he thought I might be the girl for him. I floated on cloud nine for the rest of the night! When the picture arrived in the mail a few days later, my mother had it framed and put it on the mantelpiece.

Christian closes my phone and hands it back to me. He holds my hand for a minute, saying, “You can do better, Tess.”

Do better? What does he mean I can do better? Tom comes from a good family, has a promising career and, most importantly, he is nice to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with him…..don’t I?

My thoughts are interrupted when the waiter brings a plate with a small cup of soup, some little bread things and some cheese with a red sauce. I’m not sure how I should eat them, so I sit and wait to watch what Christian does. To my embarrassment, he notices my confusion and says that the chef suggests starting on the right and working left.

While we’re nibbling, he pulls some papers out of a folder. I spot the words “Open Heart Surgery” at the top of the page and realize that we are about to get down to real discussion.

I’m a little worried about costs and expenses that might not be included. We don't have the money to pay for a hospital stay or expensive tests. “What does that contract say?”

Christian replies that the contract says he’ll cover all the expenses related to the procedure. He also brought up an issue I really didn’t want to have to think about. Included in the contract is a waiver and a place for instructions on what to do if there are complications. He explained each of the choices and what each one meant. I pull all those ideas from my mind.

He puts the contract aside and says, “You know, your father and I barely spoke two words to each other in college. And it’s not like I’ve received a Christmas card in the 15 years since, either.”

I could feel my eyes widen. “Really? I thought you and my dad were friends! I guess he didn’t want to worry me.” I’m shocked that he would even consider doing such an expensive operation for just an acquaintance from his long-ago college days. Maybe I was wrong about Christian.

We finish our soup, he tells me with a wry smile that he understands what it’s like to want to protect a daughter.

“I understand about protecting people too," I tell him. "I had to leave school to get a job. We needed the money.”

Tess recognizes what can only be the contract in my hand and asks what it says in it.

“It states that all medical expenses for your father’s surgery will be paid for. It’s also a waiver indicating whether to resuscitate him in the event of complications.”

Of course I am aware that it is not a pleasant discussion for a family to have, but something that must be done. Her reaction is typical of a patient, suggesting she had yet to properly consider that the procedure is not 100% certain to be a success. Tess would be well advised to ensure my own signature before thinking this far ahead anyway. The sheets are again left down on the table. I inform Harry’s daughter that in truth, we hardly had one conversation in medical school before he dropped out. I don’t even have a letter, phone call or Christmas card since then to inspire this act of kindness. She is surprised by this – she actually thought we were buddies back then.

“He probably didn’t want to worry your little head”, I say. I see another change in her attitude towards me, similar to when I displayed my love for my children, almost like she is fighting the first impression she got from me when she arrived at the restaurant.

“I understand about protecting a daughter,” I add, relating to my former colleague somewhat. I certainly would not have let her dine with me tonight, though. She explains her own familiarity of protecting family; she was forced to leave school and work to help pay the bills at home. Our soup is finished; I had let mine get too cold so I leave some of it behind. A different waiter collects our plates.

“We’ve been talking about family, friends”, I begin, leaning back with my arms folded. “You are neither. Yet I look through this, and I see nothing but loss on my side. Sacrifice – for you people. I’m a surgeon, a God damn successful and respected one. I’m paid for my skills and that is my living. There is a colossal imbalance in everything this sheet of paper says.”

“Why are you saying these things now? Why would you bring me here to tell me that you don’t want to do the operation!” she interrupts, becoming emotional.

“You are here, Tess, for balance. You’re here to tell me what I’m getting out of this”, I reveal, leaning on the table with both palms.

The defiant blonde immediately reaches for her handbag and the legs of her chair push back against the thick carpet. She stands up and seems to be facing in the direction of the exits. I get to my feet and position myself in her path. Her nearest wrist is grabbed so that she cannot go anywhere. Tess murmurs for me to release her, as some of the customers look on. We continue to talk quietly and not make a scene.

“Here’s my summation. Your father is 56 years old. He’s had two heart attacks in the past 6 months. He’s weak and you’re almost afraid to hug him incase it kills him. He has no insurance, no savings. He has no job or way of getting a loan. We’re fuckin’ talking last resort here. I mean, let’s call a spade a spade, Tess. You’re desperate.”

Her lips had parted briefly but now she just turns her head in embarrassment. Perhaps she cannot face the harsh reality of these circumstances. I lean in so close to her ear that my breathing is a bother, and my cruel whisper through the strands of her hair makes her shudder.
Although the most incisive judges of the witches and even the witches themselves
were convinced of the guilt of witchcraft, this guilt nevertheless did not exist.
Thus it is with all guilt.

Last edited by Sierra; 08-06-2008 at 02:51 PM.
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Old 07-26-2008, 02:05 AM   #6
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Default Part 5

The waiter takes our plates, and then Christian turns to me and his words make my blood run cold. He reminds me that he’s a successful surgeon and expects to be paid for his work. I can’t believe he would put me through this charade just to tell me he won’t do the operation!!! To my intense frustration, I feel my eyes start to sting with tears.

“You are here, Tess, for balance. You’re here to tell me what I’m getting out of this.”

I stare at him in utter amazement. I remember his comment about Tom telling me to “do what I have to do.” Am I to be the “balance” that tips the scales in my father’s favor? Well, he’d better think again, because he’s got the wrong idea!!

I grab my bag and get up to leave, but he blocks my path, grabbing my wrist.

“Let me go,” I hissed at him, trying to pull away.

Christian’s cruel words cut me like knives. “Here’s my summation. Your father is fifty-six years old. He’s had two heart attacks in the past 6 months. He’s weak and you’re almost afraid to hug him in case it kills him. He has no insurance, no savings. He has no job or way of getting a loan. We’re fuckin’ talking last resort here. I mean, let’s call a spade a spade, Tess. You’re desperate.”

He leans in to me and whispers, “I will never sign that paper until I get what I want.”

He releases my wrist and sits back down. I remain standing, frozen. The waiter, seeing us standing, has come running. Christian tells him that he regrets, but one meal may be wasted. The waiter looks at me and asks, “I’m sorry, Miss. Are you leaving?” Christian’s commanding voice says peremptorily, “Are you?”

Numb, I sit down, avoiding his eyes. Christian is right - I have no choice. I pick up my fork but can do no more than slide the food around on my plate. Christian reaches over and cuts a piece off the duck breast on my plate, blows on it to cool it, and puts it in front of me. My mind rebels at the thought of submitting to this intimate gesture, but I allow him to feed me.

Christian starts to eat his own food. “Mmmm, this is the most delicious duck I’ve ever had”

My voice sounds strange even to myself. “What’s really going on with your wife? Why would you show me those family pictures if you are here to betray them?”

Tess’ head turns slightly away from my harsh breath as I clarify that the ink of my pen will never touch that contract until she does everything I want tonight. I free her arm and she is rooted to the spot. When the waiter comes back with our dinner, he finds me in my seat and my stunned date still standing beside the table.

“I’m afraid one of these delicious meals may be wasted, my friend.”

Holding two trays, he asks her if she will be leaving us already, which has no response, so I promptly repeat the question with my voice raised. There is no choice in the matter and my time is being wasted. She inevitably takes her seat again, barely aware that she is being assisted. The main course is a perfect medium rare duck breast topped with cracked Jordan almonds, mildly sweetened with a honey wine jus. This is accompanied by a rich, flavorful duck leg confit. Her eyes are hiding from mine while she picks up her cutlery. I had looked forward to watching her eat but the directionless scraping against the plate soon becomes tiresome.

I lean over with my own knife and cut the first piece for her, nudging her hands out of the way. After a little blow it is held in front of her. She looks my way for the first time since our tiff and hesitates as expected. Tess opens her mouth and I guide the food in, letting her lips close before slowly sliding the fork out again. Some romance has crept into our arrangement. This seems to persuade her to be more active so I decide to leave her be for now. I finally have the opportunity to begin my meal and savour the taste of this scrumptious breast; I can’t believe I hadn’t tried it here before. Tess wants the truth about Lisa and I, and demands to know why I would openly discuss my family if I had always intended to betray them.

“I could ask you the same thing about young Tommy. Tell me what you said to him and I’ll gladly do the same regarding Lisa.” This is met with silence. I've challenged her hypocrisy in questioning my relationship when she obviously doesn’t have a solid enough one to tell him where she really is – or at least prove otherwise.

“The reason I showed you the pictures and the text message, was for neither a guilt trip nor to put our minds at ease. It was to get it out of the way – because it’s all irrelevant. Tomorrow morning Katie will play with her toys and Joey with his friends, as normal. Their lives will be completely unchanged. This is a private arrangement between the two of us.”

I feel I am being rational but Tess’ reaction continues to suggest my comments are absurd. She says it sounds like I’ve done this before, and asks if all the women I commit adultery with are half my age. I twist my wedding ring around my finger and laugh to myself. She is trying to talk me out of this based on uninformed assumptions. My warning about persisting with the topic of my wife has not been heeded and there will be consequences.

“I want your panties on the table”

“I could ask you the same thing about young Tommy. Tell me what you said to him and I’ll gladly do the same regarding Lisa.”

I can’t answer him. I remember my text message to Tom guiltily. I feel Christian’s eyes on me. He tells me in a monotone that both his wife and Tom are irrelevant. That their lives will go on starting tomorrow morning. What could he mean by that? I can feel my temper rising to the surface.

“I take it you’ve done this before,” I say bitterly. “Are all the women you commit adultery with half your age?”

He looks down at his hands and twists his wedding ring. His blue eyes raise to mine and narrow.

“I want your panties on the table.”

“What?” My eyes widen and my jaw drops.

“Your underwear, Tess. Take it off.”

“Go to hell.”

His commanding voice explains, “We've been through this already. You wear what I want, when I tell you to wear it. Or I could just tear up this contract right now.”

His hand rests on the contract. I realize numbly that I have only two choices – do as he says or let my father die. This man is in complete control. I look around the restaurant, trying to figure out how to take my panties off without being seen. I see a couple to my left, feeding and gazing at each other, making me think with a pang of Tom and me. To my right an elderly woman is eating with a younger man; the familial resemblance is obvious, so I guess they are mother and son.

I slip my hands under my dress, and lean forward. I keep my head down and try to cover what I’m doing with my arms. The man to my left looks over and I freeze, but I realize that he is trying to catch the waiter’s eye – he’s not looking at me. I try to move casually and act like I’m picking something up off the floor as I slide my panties off my feet and crumple them into a ball in my hand, putting them on the table. My face burning, I see the older woman looking at me oddly. I am intensely aware of my nakedness under the black dress.

Christian reaches over and lifts my hand off the crumpled cloth. People are walking near us and I’m intensely uncomfortable leaving that small piece of cloth on the table.

Christian slides the panties to him and spread them out on the contract in front of him, a clear reminder of who is in charge now. My face is so hot with embarrassment that it feels like I’m about to burst into flame.

Christian tells me to turn in the chair and sit with my legs apart, facing the elderly woman to my right.

“What? Oh, God. Why?”

In answer, Christian takes the contract by the edge as if to rip it up.
“Before you criticize a woman, you should walk a mile in her shoes. That way, when you criticize her, you are a mile away and you have her shoes.”
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Old 07-28-2008, 11:53 AM   #7
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Default The Signature, Part 6

Failing to comprehend me the first time, I repeat for Tess to remove her underwear immediately, but she refuses. I remind her of the shoes incident from earlier, where she should have learned that I shall dress her the way I feel like tonight – and the alternative is ripping up this contract right here and now. I relax one hand on the sheets and wait. My date takes in her surroundings, looking nervously to the tables closest to ours. To the right is a young couple, very much in love, and the man has been fidgeting with a little black box underneath the table for a few minutes now. On the opposite side, an old woman is eating with a man in his 40’s, who I presume is her son.

Tess slides her hands off the table and down to her lap, leaning slightly into the edge. Her head is down in embarrassment. I calmly continue eating my food like nothing is happening, I’m sure she wouldn’t want me to draw attention to what she is doing, after all. She stops suddenly and turns her cheek, as if someone is watching, but then proceeds to shift in her chair and bend down to the floor in one swift motion. The scrunched up panties are finally on the table, but hidden under both of her hands. She goes through that awkward moment where you have to know, did anyone see me? She glances over at the mother/son and it doesn’t help her to stop obsessively playing with her hair.

I pull her hands away from the white clothing, they are lace boy shorts. With my thumb and index finger, they’re slowly dragged to my half of the table, I’m in no hurry. I take the time to neatly unfurl them on the contract in a symbolic nature.

“Now, turn your body to the right, with your legs open.”

Her jaw drops again upon this new demand, and she wants to know why. At the moment, her thighs are shut tight, and it’s spoiling the fun. I catch the edge of the contract and threaten to split it in two. She subtlety signals for me to stop and that she will do it. Tess reluctantly shifts in her chair and faces the elderly lady – but she is not the one I want her exposed to. A couple of guests have walked around in the last few moments, but it is one of those very polite waiters I’m delaying for. Fortuitously, it is our regular one this evening, James, or would that be Jacques here. I look over my shoulder and anticipate when he will reach our area. There has been a small spoon in my hand all this time, hanging over the edge of the table cloth. I toss it to the carpeted floor and it bounces exactly where it’s supposed to.

I excuse myself and ask him if he would mind retrieving it for me. He kneels down to grab the spoon and hesitates a moment. His reaction is hidden from me, but I have to cover my mouth to conceal my laughter, knowing he had a look up the pretty girl’s dress. He hands the utensil back to me and I thank him. Tess wastes no time in turning back to face me once he has left, including a quick stretch of the black dress over her knees.

“I’m jealous. He got to see you before me", I say with my tongue in my cheek.

We return to our meal but she only has one more bite and seems to have had enough. Perhaps it is cruel given how self-conscious she must be right now, but I pretend that she has some food on her mouth, pointing to the side of mine. She is fast to wipe around both lips, and when the imaginary sauce is still there, I lean over and swab it myself. I add more fingers to the job, eventually slowing down, and then using my palm to caress her entire cheek. She rejects my touch until she has freed herself. After the moment passes, I notice the smitten man to my right has finally worked up the courage to open that velvet box and get down on one knee.

“Tess, look.”

I hold up my hand to stop him ripping up the contract, and turn to my right, opening my legs, my face on fire. I can’t believe he is displaying me like this! I put my head down, and watch with amazement as he slides a spoon onto the floor in front of the waiter. Christian asks the waiter if he could get the spoon for him. I am paralyzed with shock as the waiter bends over to pick up the spoon. The waiter raises his head, freezes for a moment - nearly falling – and continues the motion, his face a blank. I am mortified as I realize what he has seen, and Christian seems to be choking with laughter. Furious, I turn back to face Christian and pull my skirt down over my knee!

Christian makes a comment about the waiter seeing me before him, but I am too humiliated to pay attention. I try to finish my meal, but I am far too aware of my nakedness and what the waiter saw. Christian points out some food on my face, and I hurriedly wipe it off, but he indicates that I haven’t finished the job and reaches over the table. I am repelled by his touch and sit frozen as he rubs my cheek.

Christian points out the couple to my left. The young man is down on one knee, asking the pretty girl to marry him. She starts to cry and says, “Oh, yes!!” He smiles a mile wide and kisses her. I can help but smile, reminded of Tom and what I should have been doing that night instead of living this nightmare.

“Do you know what Tommy’s surprise was going to be tonight?”

“No. How would I know?” I’m not about to give this man any information about me or Tom.

A waiter collects our plates and asks if we want dessert. Christian wants to share rhubarb, which I have never heard of, but when I refuse he starts to reel off all the menu items in an endless mode – all while the waiter keeps glancing at my white panties on the table. The waiter says he’ll give us a little time to decide. Christian keeps listing off dessert items from the menu until I think I am going to scream. I see a small group of waiters at the back near the kitchen, looking at us and laughing, including the one who had seen up my skirt. I can’t stand it any more!

“I’m full. Can we leave, please?”

"You read my mind."

Tess turns her head to see this young gentleman kneel down and propose to his girl. She can’t hold back the tears as she says yes to him. Almost the entire restaurant gives them applause, so we join in, and they make the most of their 15 seconds of fame with a kiss. I see Tess smiling at their happiness, despite the humiliation she undoubtedly feels. I ask if she knows what Tommy’s surprise is. She says no, I suppose it wouldn’t be a surprise if she did. I’ve already picked up the menu in anticipation of the waiter inquiring if we would like some dessert. Sure enough, he arrives moments later to take our plates, where Tess has left far more food behind than I. I am in the mood for some rhubarb, and I try to tempt her into sharing it with me. She can’t look either of us in the eyes with those panties still in plain sight.

“No, thank you.”

“Nougat Glacé, Bitter Chocolate, Candied Almond. Red Wine Poached Rhubarb Consommé, Passion Seeds, Chamomile….”, I continue.

“I will leave you some time to decide”, the waiter suggests, seeing my company’s uninterested posture. I glance up at him as he leaves; it was not James this time. Pity, I was hoping he could give me some sort of preview of tonight’s proceedings. I sip some of my wine and read the remainder of the list aloud but Tess waves me away a second time. She seems preoccupied with something else behind me and then suddenly asks if we may go now. My thoughts exactly.

“Check, please”

Our new waiter had only wandered off to a nearby table, so he responds in quick time. When he returns with the bill, I swipe my credit card into the wireless processor, signing the receipt that pops out. We thank each other and I tell Tess to bring the wine bottle with her, which has plenty left inside. She places her handbag on her shoulder and finds her free hand taken by mine. Seeing the underwear left behind, she reaches for it, but I joke that it is the tip, though I had already given mine. She scowls at the idea, pleading with me to take them away. Once I've had my fun teasing her, I pocket them, with the contract tucked under my arm, and we make our way out of the place. One of the staff pleasantly holds the door for us and we are met with the stuffy night outside. I lead the way, hearing Tess’ heels click on the footpath of this busy street.

“Christian, where are we going?”

Without replying, we continue walking past the parked cars and shops, many of which are closed. We swing around the corner into the first gap between the buildings, a small lane, about 50 feet from the nearest traffic lights. She stumbles and almost leaves a shoe behind, but suffers an even worse shock when I catch underneath both knees, carrying her towards the wall. She loses her breath, anxiously looking either side of us. We are alone in this long alley but pedestrians’ footsteps repeatedly become louder when they pass by.

“You accused me of me sleeping with other women, young women. 13 years I’ve been faithful. I’ve never cheated on my wife.”

“Christian, let me go…”

Her back is against the wall, in more ways than one. Her legs wrap around my hips for security, and barely gripping the expensive wine, she clutches my shoulders too. I breathe heavily on her, slightly leaning my face into her long hair where it hangs by her neck. She constantly looks back from me to the street in fear that we will be seen. It excites me to be fitted between her thighs, knowing she is naked underneath. I take a few steps back to the other side so that she now faces the wall. My right hand stops supporting the leg on the same side and slides down her lower back.

“I thought we had overcome your PDA issues in the restaurant.”

Christian pays the bill and asks me to bring the wine bottle. He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. My white panties are still on the table and I reach over to pick them up, but he blocks my hand, saying the panties are a “tip”. I think about what I paid for them and I also remember the waiters laughing and pointing and can’t handle the idea of leaving them behind. Christian finally puts them in his pocket, grabs the contract, and leads me out of the restaurant.

I ask Christian where we are going, but he doesn’t answer. We walk quickly down the street, and when we come to an alleyway, he swings me around, put his hands under my knees and lifts me off the ground so that I am facing him. I am keenly away of my nakedness, and of the people who could walk by and see me. He backs me up against the wall, looks me in the face, and I hear his hoarse whisper.

“You accused me of me sleeping with other women, young women. For thirteen years I’ve been faithful. I’ve never cheated on my wife.”

“Christian, let me go…” I feel myself slipping and I’m forced to wrap my legs around him and hold his shoulders to keep from ending up on the filthy ground. I’m trying not to drop the wine bottle, and I feel his breath in my face. He turns slightly and drops one leg. I feel his hand fit into the small of my back. He whispers softly that he had thought the public display issues had already been solved.

“Christian, if you don’t let me go, I’ll scream. I swear to God I will scream.”

That evil whisper tells me he could be inside me in seconds. It takes me a minute to realize what he means, and when I do my blood runs cold.

He starts to lift my dress until I feel the cool evening air on my bottom. In a panic, I slap his hand away. The leg he has dropped scrapes against the wall, and my shoe comes off a little and dangles from my toes. I can imagine what we must look like to passersby. He had talked of being private, but here we are making a spectacle for all to see!

“Please…I’ll do anything…anything you like…but not here. Please…not here.” Holding me up, he tells me to take a drink of the wine. When I do, he lets me down, takes my arm, and we continue walking. We come to a large hotel, a very famous landmark in the city. We walk right past the reception desk to the elevator. He pulls out a room key and pushes the button for the 15th floor. He looks at me with a small grin and says, “How about going down while we go up?”

The elevator doors start to close, and I start to panic. A man’s hand appears between the two doors and stops them closing. Perhaps what appears to be inevitable will be delayed….?
Although the most incisive judges of the witches and even the witches themselves
were convinced of the guilt of witchcraft, this guilt nevertheless did not exist.
Thus it is with all guilt.
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Old 07-29-2008, 05:04 AM   #8
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Old 07-30-2008, 11:48 AM   #9
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Default Part 7

She promises to scream, but we both know she can’t afford to. Why not do it right now? With her undergarments in my pocket, I need only unzip my fly and we can complete our arrangement early.

“I could be inside you in seconds”, I whisper.

Once my comment sinks in she is repulsed by it. My hand continues down to the edge of the dress and begins to raise it, exposing her behind. Tess instinctively slaps my arm to stop me. Her free leg struggles around the corner of the wall, and I hear the stiletto of the leather shoe scratching against it. The thought of the numerous passers-by seeing only a bare leg sticking out of this lane amuses me, and her fear that one of them will stop to watch is evident. Whether she means it or not, she tells me she will do anything I want – just not here in this dirty alley.

“Have some more wine”

I smile as she carefully switches hands and tilts the bottle towards her, taking a small swig. My point is made that I could have made this much worse for her so far, but I didn’t. She looks down at her legs straightening and her feet finally reaching the ground. I catch her arm again and we return to the footpath. Another couple of minutes walk from the traffic lights is The Orchid, the renowned hotel in the centre of the city. It consists of 144 rooms spread over 18 floors, with each containing eight rooms. We climb the steps and push open another pair of heavy brass doors. The receptionist looks our way but I received my key earlier; I think the young female said my room was on the fifteenth floor, and a glance at my key and a calculation shows that it is right. Still feeling spontaneous, I want Tess to go down on me. There is a smirk on my face but I can’t say the same for her, as she watches me reach for the button in the elevator.

The doors fail to close fully when someone lodges their hand between them. A brunette in a business suit enters and I promptly take my hand away from my zipper. Tess appears to breathe a sigh of relief, that is until I wrap my arm around her hips. I lean in close and tell her to caress her lips against my neck. I feel her soft cheek brushing past mine as I watch the woman beside us press number thirteen on the list. Tired of my girl’s hesitation and poor show of affection, I slide in behind her with my back against the elevator wall. I brush her hair back and rest my chin at the back of her neck, whispering things I want her to say to this lady.

“I love your shoes….are they….Stuart Weitzman?”

“Oh, thank you, and yes you’re right”, she answers pleasantly.

“Our...our room number is 127”, Tess is then forced to add.

The stranger doesn’t respond this time and in her view, the conversation is over. I begin kissing Tess on the shoulder, enjoying her smooth skin. When I hook one finger underneath the dress strap and slowly pull it down, she shakes her head, immediately replacing it. Our bodies are close together, my groin pressing into her backside. Both women stare at the red number at the top, the humming of the lift the only sound, it seems it can’t reach our respective destinations soon enough. The woman in the suit gets a glimpse of my wedding ring with those judgmental eyes, since my hands are hugging Tess’ stomach. Eventually, the 2 in the twelve becomes a 3 and the doors part. I reach into my pocket for the lace panties and throw them at the woman as she is stepping out. She is startled and actually manages to catch them, before brushing them onto the floor in disgust. I hide behind Tess’ curly hair and laugh quietly. She stutters and tries to explain, but there is nothing she can do or say.

“You two should be ashamed of yourselves”, our victim snarls, before walking away.

With the underwear on the carpet of that floor, Tess tries to release herself before the elevator moves again, but she is too late. She begs me not to leave them there, and when I don’t offer any help, she becomes awkward. I paid for her dress and high heels, but that really isn’t my problem. I let her go and she sulks at the opposite side to me. When we reach our floor, Tess is taken by the arm and led through the hallway. The room is at the far end, and after putting the key in the keyhole, I allow the lady in first.

I thought I might get a reprieve when the woman got in the elevator, but Christian puts his arm around me and tells me to kiss his neck. I only brush my lips against his white shirt, failing to reach his skin, and leaving lipstick on his collar. The woman pushes a button and turns to face the door. Christian leans against the elevator wall, touches my hair and puts his head on my shoulder. He starts whispering the small talk he wants me to make with the other woman. He guesses the brand of her court shoes correctly but I get the credit.

Then, Christian makes me tell her “our” room number, to my intense embarrassment. The business woman’s impression of me has completely changed as she watches a married man old enough to be my father fooling around with me in public. Christian begins kissing my neck, then starts to slide the strap of my dress down my shoulder. I yank it back up. He starts to press against my bottom with his body, his hands on my belly. I want to sink through the floor, but stand frozen. Watching the ascending floor numbers is the only thing that allows me to endure it; and I hope the doors open before 15.

As the woman starts to leave the elevator, she turns to glance at us, disapproving. To my horror, Christian reaches in to his pocket and throws my panties to the woman, who drops them to the floor. I hear Christian laughing softly as I try to say something, but I can only stutter.

“You two should be ashamed of yourselves.”

I try to go and get my panties, but Christian won’t let me go until the elevator is in motion again. I lean against the wall and shudder at the thought of the cleaning lady or even one of the hundreds of guests finding it. We get to our floor and he takes me by the arm. Still upset at losing my underwear, I follow him stiffly.

The room is lovely, with a double bed. He throws the contract on the dresser, looking in the mirror quickly. He puts the wine I’ve been carrying on the bedside table along with his mobile phone. I don’t want to go in the room, so I stay near the door, my purse clasped to my body. Christian sits down on the bed and pats it, wanting me to come over there.

“Please. I don’t want to do this. Do we have to?”

“You’re the one who wanted to leave the restaurant, and the alley. You can go whenever you like.”

I know full well that I am being manipulated, but I trudge over to sit next to him. Christian caresses my arm and asks me how it feels to have the best food, drink and clothes. How it feels to have women envy me because of my youth and expensive clothing, and men envy him because he’s with me. Maybe if I can keep him talking ….

“It’s strange.”

He takes my chin in his hand and looks into my eyes. “I’m used to it by now, but, it has been some time since I took home the best piece of ass in the room.”

With a flick of the light switch we are met with a beautiful, spacious room with a bed for two. I fling the contract onto the wooden dresser and check my hair in the mirror sitting on top of it, undoing my top button and sleeve cuffs. I take the wine bottle from Tess, who is still by the door, and place it on the cabinet by the bed. Then, my phone is put next to it. The light on the cover which shows the time and date fades away after a few seconds. She remains distant with her hands crossed over her handbag, so I sit on the edge of the bed and signal for her to join me. She makes one last feeble attempt to get out of this but I remind her that it was she who wanted to leave the restaurant before dessert, and then the lane, where she wanted to go anywhere but there, as I recall. Well, here we are in a 5 star hotel, a huge contrast, and she knows where the door is. The bed gently creaks as she unenthusiastically walks over and puts her weight on it. I start running my fingers up and down her bare arm closest to me.

“How did it feel to wear the most expensive clothes, eat the most expensive food, and be the envy of the room, from women because of your youth, and men because you were mine?”

She says it was strange. A good looking girl like Tess will turn men’s heads nonetheless, but today she was among a different class. I catch her chin and look intently into her eyes like an investment that is about to pay off. I tell her that it has been a long time since I brought home the best piece of ass in that room. My wife is a beautiful woman, but the years have been much harder on her than me. I instruct her to get onto the bed, which she lowers her head to, and uses the tip of her shoe to attempt to remove the other one.

“Did I ask you to take them off?”

This stops her in her tracks and she climbs onto the white quilt fully clothed. She is unsure how to lie or where to put her hands, so I use her arm to nudge her onto her back. I slip off my own shoes and kneel onto the bed. Tess has one knee up but her other leg is as close by as it can be. My hand starts at the leather of her high heel, the stiletto of which digs into the sheets, and then slides up her foot. Becoming more aggressive, I grasp her calf, taking pleasure in the skin of her long legs, which are startled briefly. I raise my head to give her a smile, moving up and over her knee, and groping her inner thigh excitedly. She instinctively blocks my hand with hers before her dress is reached. There have been certain times this evening where I have been aroused, seeing her return from the bathroom in the matching dress and shoes for the first time, that look on her face as she removed her panties, and practically grinding against her in the elevator – but now that we are alone I no longer have to control myself. I clutch my privates through my trousers suggestively, loosen my tie and begin unbuttoning my shirt.

“Tess, it doesn’t benefit either of us for you to fight me. We can’t have Daddy or Tommy finding you with bruises, and a girl like you, I bet you bruise easily. I can’t operate from jail now can I?”

Christian tells me to get on the bed. It’s the moment of truth, and shame washes over me but I decide to just get it over with for my father's sake. I start to kick off the black heels, but he stops me, so I force myself to get on the bed fully clothed. I don’t know what to do with my body, but Christian pulls me onto my back.

It’s impossible to relax as I watch him take his shoes off and kneel beside me. I feel his hands on my shoes. I think he means to take my shoes off, but instead his hands slide up my leg and grab my leg. I stiffen as his hands slide up past my knee, and try to stop him from going up any further. I am incredibly relieved as he takes his hand away, but I realize my relief will be short-lived as he grabs his crotch lewdly and takes his tie off.

Unbuttoning his shirt, he says, “Tess, it doesn’t benefit either of us for you to fight me. We can’t have Daddy or Tommy finding you with bruises, and a girl like you, I bet you bruise easily. I can’t operate from jail now can I?”

He drops his shirt of the floor and throws himself on top of me. As he starts kissing my neck I can’t help but try to push him off. His hand goes under my dress when a horrible thought hits my mind. Oh, my God I could get pregnant!!!!

“Christian wait….what about a…..” I can’t bring myself to say the word, but he seems to understand all too well what I mean.

"I’m shooting blanks tonight. For every date, in college at least, I sit in a 116 degree bath. Excessive testicular heat shuts down spermatogenesis.”

Oh... I’m far too confused and humiliated for my mind to grasp what he’s saying. I feel his hand go up my thigh and I instinctively close my legs to prevent the intrusion. I hear him growl my name in warning and I reluctantly allow my legs to relax and allow him to continue up my leg to my most private part…..Oh, my God….this can’t be happening….

It was important to advise Tess to co-operate. I see no need to hurt her, and I could do so unintentionally if she leaves me no choice but to use force. I undo the last button and throw my top on the ground. Crawling towards her on my knuckles, my body falls on hers, leaning more to one side. Her sensitive neck is the first thing I see. I begin kissing the base and impatiently move around both sides, which she turns the opposite way to. My positioning allows me to maneuver my busy hand which is placed on her left thigh once again. It slithers past the silky fabric and I see the bulk underneath it in the corner of my eye.

Whether it is an attempt at stalling or genuine concern I’m not sure, but Tess almost manages to stutter out the question of wearing a condom. I explain that basically, I teabag my testicles in a hot tub, but the medical lingo seems to go over her head. After Lisa and I didn’t want to have any more kids, it is something I started doing again, leaving me sterile and squeaky clean. A vasectomy is the most bullshit cure for depression I’ve ever heard. When my hand slithers between her legs, they react and shut instantly.


I glare at her and receive an ultimately submissive look back. She takes the pressure off my hand and lets me proceed. I feel her body tensing up in anticipation and it is even worse when I finally touch her privates. She gasps and shuts her eyes at sporadic moments, feeling the palm of my hand rest against her soft tissue, and my fingers running up the strip of pubic hair. I have stopped caressing her with my mouth momentarily to watch her endure it. Her legs twitch and her feet sometimes curl up against each other, the light in the centre of the room reflecting off the patent leather. When I pull out from under the outfit, she exhales as if she had been holding her breath for minutes. I use both hands to push the dress up further and give me the access needed.

She should be exposed at this point; however, she is clenching the end of her clothes and stretching it. I seize the offending arm and slam it down on the bed with a clear message. This time, she accepts the full weight of my body, fitted between her legs, with the top of my black trousers on her stomach. I feel her inviting chest underneath me as I pester her ear. I grind into her a little to help my erection along. Resting one elbow on the bed for balance, I reach between our bodies and unbuckle my belt. The button is opened, the fly unzipped, and I move my hips to allow my pants to slide down.

“I’ve been so fucking hard for you all night”
“Before you criticize a woman, you should walk a mile in her shoes. That way, when you criticize her, you are a mile away and you have her shoes.”
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Old 08-01-2008, 03:26 AM   #10
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Default The Signature, Part 8

He moves his hand up my leg and touches me. Every nerve in my body is protesting and it takes an act of iron will to hold still and not scream while he runs his fingers up and down, and my body twitches and trembles with the effort.

He removes his hand from between my legs, but my relief is short-lived as he starts to raise my skirt. I grab the hem of my dress to try to cover my nakedness, but he grabs my arm and growls in his throat as he smacks my arm down on the bed. He moves to top me, spreading my knees with his own. My panic is making my breathing hard and ragged, as he kisses my ear. I feel the bulge beneath his trousers as thrusts it against me and gasp at the cold buckle against my belly. My mind freezes again as he whispers hoarsely into my ear.

“I’ve been so fucking hard for you all night”

He unbuckles his belt, opens his zipper, and pushes his trousers down to his knees. I vainly try to keep from pushing him away, but my hands go to his chest seemingly of their own volition. His eyes bore holes in me as I feel him enter me with one thrust, tearing into my dry pussy. I feel the pain sharply between my legs, but I feel the shame even more keenly than the physical pain as the realization of what is happening washes over me.

I cry out and throw my head back against the pillow as my body is invaded. I finally open my eyes just a little and see his chin just above mine…

I grip my trousers at one of the sides to assist them down just short of my knees. The palms of her hands press into my chest as if they will try to push me off, but it never happens. The loose belt is squashed into the bed covers and it faintly rattles when I take the weight off my elbow and re-position my body a little. I feel and see her cleavage rising faster as Tess awaits the inevitable. My eyes stay fixed on hers as I guide myself to her entrance. There is no more foreplay or warning. With one strong thrust, her pussy lips separate and I am inside her. Her knees press into my hips and our bodies are fully together. She cries the moment I enter her, tears sneaking out from her closed eyes, but I feel no sympathy. She chose to sleep with me and no one put a gun to her head.

Her sobbing continues as she leans her head back over the pillow. I shut my own eyes momentarily in pleasure; she is as tight as the young women I remember all those years ago. I catch one of her legs and grope her silky skin. Her knee is then bent so the leather of her heels can be felt against my back. The same is done with the other, and the 4 inch stilettos bounce against me with my second thrust. She is reluctant to accept me like this and they eventually begin to slide off.

Tess’ fingernails touch my chest hair and her hands become a nuisance in general. I capture both wrists and plant them either side of the pillow she rests upon. We interlock fingers, sensing each other’s intensity. My chin is directly above hers, and having just recently opened her eyes, she turns her head to one side, remaining that way for the time being. Our faces rub closely together as I return to her ear, playfully kissing it. The excitement has me breathing heavily against her, moving my lips onto her soft cheek.

I can’t stop my tears as he begins to move in and out of me. I feel him push one leg, and then the other up toward my chest, opening me to him. I hate being exposed like this, but I dare not oppose him. I allow my legs to relax and slide down.

I want him off of me. I have to force myself not to push him away and my hands flutter near his chest. He grabs my arms, and puts my hands up level with my head, fingers laced together. I feel his eyes boring holes in me and reluctantly I open my eyes and turn to look at him. His head dips to kiss my ear and I hear his breath coming harder as he moves to kiss my cheek. I feel cold sweat on his cheek and brow.

He thrusts harder in to me, and my hands close around his in involuntary response. I clench my teeth against the pain and shame, and stare at the emergency instructions on the wall, trying not to think about what is happening. He is kissing my cheek over and over. He kisses me on the lips, but I turn away and won’t let him continue. I might have to submit to him to save my father, but a kiss is far too intimate and I do not owe him that.

One hand touches my chin, and he turns my face to his, to kiss me again. I push his lips away from me with my now-free hand and turn my head sharply away. His head drops behind mine in the pillow. He grabs one leg, raises it, and thrusts himself into me strongly, making me gasp for breath.

Through the fog of my pain and shame, I barely hear a familiar sound. It sounds like my phone is ringing from inside my purse. I try to think where my bag ended up, but can’t remember where I dropped it when we came in the door.

The fringe of my hair is wet from meeting both the sweat of my forehead and Tess’ tears. She tightly squeezes my hands when I push inside her again, still staring at one of the walls of the room. I repeatedly kiss her lovely cheek in quick succession, and then eventually reach her lips. They are her most attractive facial feature and I had briefly felt them with my fingertip in the restaurant. As soon as I press my mouth against hers, she turns her head the other way, surprising me given how long it had been motionless. She refuses to kiss back. I pull our fingers apart on the right side and take her chin, this time in aggression rather than admiration, and have her face me like she should. I force the second kiss on her but now she is able to lodge her hand between us and shun my advances. I give her this small victory, and instead catch one of her legs again, putting all my strength into this thrust. I lower my head beside hers and breathe heavily into the fresh pillow.

With the focus on our bodies and liaison, I ignored it at first, but there is a musical tune coming from somewhere in the room. I glance up at my own phone and confirm that it has not made a noise since it was rested there. Tess’ eyes meet mine almost simultaneously, as if we silently ask each other what it is. She shakes her head, and unsure what that means, we disconnect, with me sitting up and turning around. Her handbag has fallen on its side and the handles hang over the side of the quilt. It is second time lucky when I pick the correct compartment the mobile is inside. The basic ring tone becomes much clearer as I raise it to read the caller’s identity.

“Christian, wait….”

“Your boyfriend has impeccable timing”, I retort.

Her eyes widen as she curls up on the bed, one leg over the other and her arms folded below her chest. She whispers her objection so quietly one could barely hear it. I roughly clutch her arm and pull her to this side of the bed. She is popping out of one of her heels as it drags along the sheets but it soon flips into place again. I elevate my prize onto my lap and she nervously slips down my knees. My bottom is supported by the back of my feet. I catch and hold her against me, her breasts leaning into me, and hold the phone up to her ear. It is still ringing; our Tommy sure is persistent. She pushes the hand and phone away slightly to relieve her from the loud volume. I tell her that if she doesn’t talk to him – I will. With that said, I press ‘answer’, but there is such a delay that we hear the young man calling her name before Tess speaks for the first time.

“Hi Tom”

We both hear the phone now, and look into each other’s eyes. I know from the tone that it is my mobile phone. Christian looks at his own phone to confirm it. I shake my head, hoping he will just let me ignore it.

Christian sits up, pulling out of me. In one way I’m glad he is no longer inside me, but then I remember that it is only delaying the inevitable and I want to get this over with. I close my legs, overcome with shame and humiliation.

Christian starts rooting around in my purse and finally comes up with my mobile phone. The ringing becomes painfully loud as he pulls it out of my purse. He looks at the little screen to see who the caller is, and I can see from where I am that it’s Tom.

“Christian, wait….,” I say, praying that he won’t answer it.

“Your boyfriend has impeccable timing.”

Oh, God. I cross my legs and hug myself with my arms. “No…please…” I whisper.

He grabs one wrist and hauls me across the bed, and I feel the heel of my shoe digging into the bedclothes. He keeps pulling until I am on his lap, but I go limp and slip down his legs until he pulls me back up.

Holding me tightly against him, he holds the phone to my ear. It sounds ridiculous and shrill and I push his hand away. His face hardens.

“Answer it or I will.” He pushes the button to answer the phone.

I take a moment to quiet my breathing and try to still my pounding heart. I don’t want Tom to suspect what is going on.

“Are you okay, Tess?” Tom sounds anxious. Resisting the urge to scream at him to come get me, to save me, I tell him in a voice I hardly recognized that I’m fine – I just didn’t hear the phone.

“I find that hard to believe” he says.

Christian starts to rub my back over my dress. I am keenly aware that with one knee on either side of him I could be exposed with a simple movement of his hand. His hands wander to my hips and backside.

“Why?” I wonder if he knows somehow what is happening. I try to beg Christian with my eyes not to say anything.

Christian’s face and mouth caress my breasts while I fight to keep my composure and speak casually.

“You always have that thing up so loud!” he laughs. Whew! He doesn’t suspect anything. He has always teased me about how loud I have the ringer on my phone. Maybe I really can get through this conversation without him suspecting….

“I’m fine, just didn’t hear the phone….” Tess faintly responds in an unconvincing manner.

I watch her closely as she tries to collect herself and slow her breathing down. A moment ago it sounded like she had just finished a marathon. She glances back and forth at me, perhaps wondering if I will break my silence. Tommy’s voice is barely audible but whatever he said it is cause for concern. My hand that is supporting her moves to her hips, and then caresses her lower back through the dress. When she asks her boyfriend “Why?” - we hold eye contact for the longest time in this conversation so far. I see her fear of being caught; that maybe her excuse for canceling their plans won’t hold up, or that I will arouse suspicion that she is with another man.

I hold her body up, which leans slightly more towards me the further my hand travels. I ogle her cleavage and press my face against her. My mouth rubs into the clothing and feels her soft breasts behind it. Tess breaths a sigh of relief at Tommy’s response, that and her worrying heartbeat are so evident when I am this close to her. I heard laughter on the phone, but the only word I catch out of the next sentence is “Uncle.”

“He’s fine….we just finished our meal”

I look up at Tess curiously and also with a smirk of satisfaction. The reason she gave her man is becoming clear for the first time and it is as flimsy as I imagined. I catch under her backside again and suddenly shift her onto me. She is startled and struggles to keep calm.

“What?” she whispers in hesitation.

I slide my cock inside her again and let go of the phone, forcing a quick reaction for her to catch it. My palms lift her bottom and my hips swing to drive myself into her as far as I can. Her right arm is wrapped around my neck and squeezes it. Tommy is asking another question but there is a long pause as his girlfriend endures being with me. She mutters that she doesn’t know yet, and I neither know nor care what it means. My trousers are squashed underneath my weight and I hear them rattle with my next thrust. I enjoy caressing Tess’ ear, breathing into it and controlling her.

I demand that she ask Tommy what the surprise is. My hands slither under her dress and she is no longer relying on me to keep us together. My finger tips take in the flesh of her belly button and stomach. Again I order her to inquire about his secret plans, and with a vicious whisper, I tell her that I want to know if I’m fucking his fiancé. My final words coincide with a third and wild thrust in her pussy.

“Ask him!”
Although the most incisive judges of the witches and even the witches themselves
were convinced of the guilt of witchcraft, this guilt nevertheless did not exist.
Thus it is with all guilt.
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Old 08-01-2008, 05:36 AM   #11
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Very nicely done by both of you Rogue and Sierra.
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Old 08-03-2008, 10:06 PM   #12
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Default Part 9

“How is your uncle?” Tom asks.

My mind goes blank for just a minute, then I remember that I had told Tom in my text message that I was having dinner with my uncle and it's important to my father. I can’t look at Christian - I’m pretty sure he knows I lied about what I was doing. I tell Tom my “uncle” is fine and we’ve just finished our meal.

“Do you think he’ll help with the operation?”

Christian puts his hands under my bottom and shifts me on to him. Trying to carry on a conversation with Tom while sitting on Christian’s lap is almost impossible. I try not to cry out as Christian moves my body like a rag doll.


Christian enters me again and pushes me down until his full length is inside me. Can this really be happening? Can I really be having a conversation with the man I love with another man inside me? I’m struggling to keep my voice as normal as possible, and to calm my breathing while Tom repeats his question.

“I don’t know yet….” Tom says he hopes it works out and continues to chatter, but I don’t hear him.

Christian demands in a whisper that I ask Tom what the surprise was. I can’t speak. I pause for so long that Tom thinks the call might have been dropped. “Hello?”

The evil, insistent whisper continues.

"Ask him if I'm fucking his fiancee", he orders.

My eyes meet his in shocked surprise. How did he know? The shame of realizing exactly what it is that Christian wants to know washes over me as Christian slides his hands under my dress to my breasts. He is stabbing me over and over with his manhood. I can barely think, much less speak.

He becomes impatient and thrusts hard into me. Again he commands that I ask him.

“Tom what…what was the surprise?”

Christian’s hands take hold of my breasts and pushes at them, trying to move my body with his. His head falls to my chest and I feel it jerking in rhythm to his thrusts

“You know I can’t tell you that, Tess”, Tom answers in a teasing voice.

My composure cracks and I can barely contain my sobs as I beg him, “Please Tom…It’s important…just tell me…were you going to….propose?”

Christian’s hand pulls on my bra, nearly ripping it as his fingers touch my flesh. His fingers graze my nipple, making me gasp. The intensity of his thrusting increases as I try to focus on what Tom is saying.

“Why? Would you have said yes?” Tom asks in a serious tone.

I can no longer contain my sobbing as I abandon any pretense of composure and drop the phone on the bed.

Finally Tess stammers through the sobbing and asks Tommy what this special surprise was going to be tonight. I have put her through a challenging ordeal, but she doesn’t have to pretend to smile or conceal visual suffering, it is all about sound. The tone and volume of her voice are the clues he can pick up from the other end of the phone. She had paused to stare at me in disbelief that I had guessed he wants to marry her – and it was clearly her presumption too. My fingers rise from her torso and toward her lace bra. I grope her breasts through it and push into her to attempt to elevate her with my thrusts. My head rests at one side near her armpit and it nudges her to my rhythm. Her self-control is waning as she tells Tommy it is important, was he going to propose? He must think her tears are of joy and optimism and not the reality of his girlfriend submitting to another man.

Her forearm remains tightly pressed into my neck as I pump into her harder and harder. Her walls stretch to fit around my meat and I faintly grunt in pleasure, my lower lip dragging on her warm skin. Our bodies only become sweatier the longer we are together. The sounds of the bed squeaking, the sex we have and the awkward phone call occupy this large hotel room. This emotional triangle is all that matters and the hundreds of other guests are irrelevant. I tug on her bra strap and almost tear it as I force my hand underneath the left cup. I roughly capture her bare tits for the first time and brush over her sensitive nipple, feeling her gasp for air in response. I hear the phone crash against her shoulder and fall to the bed below. Tess’ would be husband is no doubt desperately calling out for her as I near climax.

I don’t know what Tommy said but the true feelings she had blocked for these past few moments are now pouring out in the form of uncontrollable weeping. I free one hand and place it on her ankle, gripping underneath her shoe and against the stiletto. My thrusts strengthen and my grunts increase, my cum starting to spill inside her. My hips twitch and my face rests against her chest again, exhaling in relief. My throbbing cock dribbles the rest of the semen. The crying never ceased and I sense Tess waiting and enduring for it to be over. I smile to myself at how easily I manipulated and bedded this pretty girl and with her man practically in attendance. I breathe heavily against her upper half.

She releases her grip on me and pushes my chest, willing me away. I slowly remove my hand from her footwear and slide the other out from under the sexy dress. Before she becomes hysterical I decide to lean her body back and give her the space she wants to free herself. I pull out of her womanhood and she squirms in the opposite direction. She finds the pillow and cries into it, her body curling up and staying on one side of the bed. I wait a moment before joining her, putting my own pillow down and easing my exhaustion. With her back to me, I watch her, her shoulders trembling as she sobs. My pants are pushed past my feet and dropped to the floor, followed by both socks. I pick up the feminine mobile and find it on the main menu with the call disconnected. It is then tossed to the ground with little care. I attempt to console her, a desire for her to knock it off rather than a display of pity. My hand gently caresses her shoulder but it only receives a shudder. She yanks the black strap back up and wants to be alone.

Tom’s voice combines with the sensations in my body to bring my mind back to the time Tom and I made love. Although Tom was less practiced about his lovemaking, he was there with me in the moment. What was happening to me now was simply sex…humiliating sex forced upon me by a cruel man who was enjoying my pain.

I feel Christian take hold of my ankle and thrust harder and faster, and I feel him grow inside me until it feels like he will split me in two. I grimace in pain over his shoulder, refusing to allow him to see that he was hurting me. I just want this nightmare to be over. Finally he groans loudly and I feel his seed inside me as my grimace turns to a scowl of disgust.

I push him away and he withdraws from my body. I move to the opposite side of the bed, burying my head in the pillow and sobbing.

I hear him moving in the room, but can’t bring myself to care what he is doing. I feel the bed move behind me and feel his hand on my shoulder. My face contorts with repugnance and I can’t conceal my small shudder of disgust as I pull up the strap of my dress and bury myself further into the pillow away from him.

He is silent and still behind me for a while, leaving me to my misery. Suddenly he asks a question I had been avoiding in my own mind.

“Would he forgive you, Tommy I mean, if he found out?”

My sobbing grows louder. I know the answer to that question.

“Tess?” he prompts. I know I can’t avoid answering him.

“What do you think, Christian?” I snap at him. He must know the answer to that question without asking. My face contorts in pain as I am forced to face the truth.

He finally says thoughtfully, “I know from experience, it would take a long time. If ever.”

His wistful tone and the softness of his answer are in stark contrast to his usual commanding tones. Could he mean the pretty woman in the photograph? Lisa? I turn to look at him over my shoulder and see that he is lost in thought, staring into space. I turn back and see his phone on the bedside table and I open it without him seeing me, careful to keep it below the level of the bed. I scroll to look at the messages sent, and a chill runs through my body as I find one sent to Lisa shortly before 8:00pm.

“Do you remember our first date?”
“Before you criticize a woman, you should walk a mile in her shoes. That way, when you criticize her, you are a mile away and you have her shoes.”
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Old 08-04-2008, 08:43 PM   #13
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Excellent story! Excellent excellent!
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Old 08-06-2008, 02:50 PM   #14
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Default The Signature, Part 10

In the minute of silence that passes by, I catch my breath and rest, glancing over at Tess occasionally. She has shifted her body closer to the edge of the bed to avoid me and clutches the comforting pillow even tighter. I wonder to myself if Tommy admitted what the surprise was and whether or not he would go through with the wedding if he found out the lengths she had gone to to secure her father’s well being. I ask her about forgiveness, and when I call her name, I get a snarl suggesting we both know what would happen. I lean back on the pillow and make a comment about my experience of the subject – referring to my own marriage. Women are supposed to be the faithful ones. When Lisa had the affair, there didn’t seem to be any way back. If it wasn’t for the kids an immediate separation would have followed and as it turned out, time proved to be the greatest cure. It has allowed me to deal with this in my own way.

I feel a little movement in the bed but I am too caught up in my train of thought. My fingers are interlocked behind my head and I always have one foot on my knee when relaxing. When I hear another sound I briefly check on Tess and the familiar silky dress is still beside me.

“Your wife….she cheated on you….” she says.

I slowly sit up and push my hand into the bed near her back. She is still facing away from me and I don’t like that when she is talking about something so personal. I lean over her shoulder and she watches me in the corner of her eye; she has used the breathing space to collect herself, with only a hint of crying in her words. I have a quick peek at my phone and return to her again.

“You’re a smart girl. But I told you, this won’t have any affect on my family. They don't concern you.”

“Are you getting even? Is that what this is Christian?” she asks.

I neither confirm nor deny it. I believe in an eye for an eye, and as I told her in the restaurant, I don’t like imbalance, either. When an old man by the name of Harry picked up the phone yesterday evening this set the wheels in motion for the conclusion of an unpleasant chapter in my life.

Tess starts to put one leg on the floor but with a firm hand on her shoulder she is not permitted to go anywhere just yet. She is then told to stand by the wall, and at least she doesn’t waste time by questioning my demand. She rolls off the bed and walks toward the space between the cabinet and a chair in the corner. I get to my feet and wander over to the wooden dresser on the opposite side. Both my hands rest on the edge, I’m leaning forward slightly and looking at my naked body in the mirror. Over my shoulder is Tess in the reflection, stroking her arm nervously and unsure what to expect. The striking black outfit stands out among the room’s light colour surrounding her.

“Take off your clothes”

“Please, I did what you wanted”, the girl pleads.

Suddenly, I slam both hands into the table and the sound shakes the room with the force of a sledgehammer. She is frightened into action, instinctively catching the bottom of her dress. She pauses momentarily and turns to her side, knowing there is a voyeur. I study her exposed curves intently in the mirror as she raises her arms and undresses by the wall.

Now Lisa’s reply to the text message makes sense. Christian showed it to me without showing me the question to make me think Lisa knew about my date with him. Instead he took me to the same restaurant at the same time as the first date with his wife!! He was so smug and self-satisfied when he found out I had told Tom that I was meeting my uncle, when all the time he was lying to me about his wife trusting him. Numbly, I put the phone back on the nightstand.

I turn to him and blurt out my suspicions – that his wife cheated on him. I keep one eye on the phone, hoping the display would go off so he won’t know I’ve been snooping. I am relieved to see it go off as he steps over to me.

I ask him if he’s getting even with his wife. This is met with silence, affirming my suspicions. I feel my temper rising. I have every right to ask that question! After all, he brought Tommy in. I decide then and there to leave and not take part in this charade any more. I start to get up.

Christian grabs my shoulder. “Stand over by the wall”

He turns away from me and stares at himself in the mirror. Can the man actually be that vain? Then I see that he is looking at me in the mirror, staring intently and never taking his eyes off me. I see the contract besides his hands…maybe he will sign it now?

He orders me to take off my clothes. My mouth drops open. I can’t believe he wants more from me! I’ve done what he wanted!! I plead with him but he slams both hands on the dresser, and I realize I had better do what he says. I quickly pull the dress over my head and throw it on the chair, covering my naked womanhood with my hands. I know better than to try to take the shoes off.

“I want to see you. All of you,” Christian orders.

I turn around and take off my white bra, putting that on the chair atop the dress. I lean into the wall in shame. Christian saunters over to get the wine bottle from the cabinet. He bends down and helps me take one shoe off, then the other and puts them under the chair.

Christian stands up and leans against the wall, with one hand flat on the wall beside my head. His other hand, holding the wine, turns me towards him and pulls my hands away from my body one by one, letting them fall to my side. I can’t look at him as he takes a drink of the wine.

I feel the cool glass of the wine bottle against my thigh, sliding up my leg and following the curves of my pudenda, lingering there, and then tracing up my stomach and breasts. I feel my face burning in shame as I look away, summoning all my strength to keep from screaming and knocking his hand away. I feel my eyes start to sting with tears and one tear spills down my cheek, falling onto the wine bottle as it moves past my breast. He moves the bottle in front of my eyes and I watch in horror as he tilts it slowly until the wine pours down my chest.

The theme of the night continues – she does what she’s told. The last thing she’d want is for me to lose my temper. She lifts the dress over her head and tosses it across the nearby chair. Now only her chest is clothed and she has learned her lesson when to remove those high heels. Her hands cross each other and hide the view between her legs. I tell Tess I want to see her body – all of it. This time her back is fully turned to me as she unhooks her bra and pulls down each strap. My eyes wander to her shapely derriere but the reflection from this distance will not do it justice. She is nude for the first time and this prompts me to stroll over in no great hurry. I collect the wine, watching her body cower into the hotel room wall. I kneel down and catch under one shoe, waiting for her to step out of it. Her feet are dainty and a perfect size 4 like I predicted. I see Donna Karan's name on the heel’s silver inside and my assistant’s choice pleases me.

When the second is slipped off, both are placed underneath the same chair. I stand and face her, one palm firmly against the wall only inches from her cheeks. Using the tips of my fingers that are still clutching the bottle, I straighten her towards me. Her arms are gently pulled down by her sides. I have a drink as I admire her naked figure before me. Her eyes stare as far away from mine as possible, and this is unremitting while the wine bottle caresses a leg. The tip then glides along the outline of her vaginal lips, teasing a more brutal alternative. It passes her belly and bare breasts, and I always keep an eye on Tess’ reaction, now in the shape of a fallen tear. The opening is held in front of her face, gradually turning upside down until the red wine rapidly flows down her chest.

I hear the girl’s faint grumbling as the near $500 drink pours along her body and drips all the way to the carpet below. It is not quite wine therapy but this vintage soak may have exfoliating qualities. I lean into one of her tits and it is enclosed by my mouth. I suckle them and taste the sweet alcohol that sticks. My free hand squeezes her round flesh as my lips enjoy her sensitive nipple. She tries to step away but my grip is secure. I stop to see her stance, enduring what I’m doing with her toes in a puddle of wine. I look over my shoulder and see my neck tie on the floor beside the bed. My tongue suggestively slips out before the tie is retrieved and carried back to the wall. I put the bottle back on the cabinet and turn Tess 180°. She anxiously awaits my actions as her face is pressed into the wallpaper. I grasp both wrists and join them together behind her back. Already there are protests as she feels restrained.

“No, I can’t….not that”, she whispers.

I wrap the black tie around her hands and knot it efficiently. Her arms struggle and her watery eyes plead with me to free her. I’m not interested in her preferences, we’ll finish when I say. After everything I’m doing for her tonight, I at least expect the time I’m owed - the time I’ve earned. I grab her shoulder and nudge her in the direction of the dresser. My hands support her arms as she is positioned in front of the mirror, the accurate reflection forcing this helpless situation to sink in. My mouth rests on her neck, her hair pulled back as we continue to watch ourselves. I take one hand and softly circle her eye. Then, I draw around her breasts with my finger tip – a substitute for my permanent marker. Imperfections of a stunning girl like Tess are unlikely to bother Tommy or her loving parents, but I like to fix things. It is the nature of my work and it can’t be switched off.

“Look at your symmetry. Your right eye is half a milimeter higher than your left. You could fix that with some cheekbone enhancement. Your breasts could be a size bigger, low C.”
Although the most incisive judges of the witches and even the witches themselves
were convinced of the guilt of witchcraft, this guilt nevertheless did not exist.
Thus it is with all guilt.
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Old 08-09-2008, 02:43 PM   #15
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Default Part 11

He’s pouring this expensive wine all over me and I watch as it drips down my naked body and makes an ugly stain on the carpet. He leans forward and begins to lick and suck the wine off my breasts, squeezing the tips. I pull away instinctively but he has a firm grip on my nipple, and my hands clench into fists as I endure his attentions.

He gets his necktie off the bed and puts the wine bottle down. He turns me to face the wall and pushes my head into the corner. He pulls my arms behind me and I feel him start to tie them together. I do not want to be helpless with this man!

“No, I can’t….not that.”

My eyes fill with tears as I feel him make tight knots in the silk. I struggle to get away but the silk is too strong and all my struggles only serve to tighten the knots. He pushes me over to the dresser and I see my reflection. I see a girl I hardly recognize – tearstained and winestained and completely at the mercy of the man standing behind me. He gathers my hair in his hand and his mouth drops to my shoulder and neck. His finger softly goes around my eye, then around each breast. I can’t think what his motions mean until his words freeze my soul.

“Look at your symmetry. Your right eye is half a milometer higher than your left. You could fix that with some cheekbone enhancement. Your breasts could be a size bigger, low C.”

This is a man who controls everything. He controlled how I dressed, what I ate and certainly controlled what happened to my body that night. Now he wants to change that body with a knife! I can’t blame his wife for straying. I wonder if his need for control will get worse tonight and how far he’ll go.

He points to my belly but I can’t bear another comment on my imperfections. “Christian, I’d like to go home.”

He stops a moment and looks at our reflections in the mirror. His face hardens and he drags me toward the door and opens it.

“Who’s stopping you?”

He shoves me out the door and closes it behind me! There I am in the hall, bound and naked and covered with wine. The door to the next suite opens a bit, but thank God nobody comes out. I lean against the door and try to open it with my hands behind me, but the door is locked. “Christian!! Please let me in!!” Please, God, let nobody see me like this.

The wait seemed interminable until the door finally opens and I rush back inside. Christian is grinning at me. I feel my temper rise again as I realize this was a ploy to let me know that I need him and am at his mercy. I am forced to admit defeat as I walk over and take my place by the mirror, head down.

“Lie on your side, and push your knees into your chest.”

I stare at him for a minute, then do as he asks, kneeling on the carpet and trying not to land hard on my face as I lay down.

“Have you ever been to hospital? I mean, had to stay overnight?” I can’t think why he would want to know this information and my mind struggles to form an answer.

“Um….I broke my arm, when I was a child. There was swelling or something.”

He asks me how it happened, and I hear the jingle of his belt buckle as he roots around in the pockets of his trousers. I hear the sound of rubber gloves stretching over his hands – an unmistakable and chilling sound that for some reason fills me with panic and a sense of dread.

I stutter, “A slide….I fell.”

I enjoy the sweet smell of the back of Tess’ neck as I continue to use her like a drawing board. I notice her discomfort at my suggestions for plastic surgery but her response still surprises me. My finger moves down to her belly button, but before I can add that I would finish off with abdominal lipo – she says she’d like to go home. We share a stare in the mirror’s glass. She has come this far and slept with me, I don’t understand how improving her appearance and making her more beautiful is crossing the line. Her arms may be tied but she has never been kept here against her will. The door is not locked and that is exactly where I take her. I open it and tug her through the doorway. Once it is slammed, she is left vulnerable and nude in the corridor of our floor.

I rest my ear against the wood and imagine the astonishment on her face right now. I think I hear the click of a door lock in the room next to ours and my hand instinctively catches the handle, tempted to end her distress quickly. She still seems to be by herself, now calling my name and trying to force the door open. I loosen my grip; it obviously can’t be opened from the outside. The young woman begs me. The thought of someone catching her makes me smile as both our bodies are pressed against the door, waiting to hear movement but for different reasons.

After a minute I finally let her back inside, my grin even wider as she scurries into the centre of the room in relief. I was under the impression she wanted to leave – I guess she missed me already. She resumes her position by the mirror, lowering her head in anticipation of further analysis. I instruct her to lie on her side and she gives me a piteous look before getting down to her knees. She finds the best way to land with her awkward restriction and rolls away from the bottom drawer handle that her head was touching. Then, I enquire as to whether she has spent the night in a hospital bed. When she was little, the poor thing broke her arm, with swelling the cause of the extended stay. I look for my trousers on the floor and fish out two surgical gloves and a blue biro.

“How did it happen?” I ask.

I stretch the gloves until they are properly fitted on my fingers. I am almost in her line of sight as her eyes are just above the carpet, but she appears to be staring into space. That is the way I wanted her to face because I am right handed and her knees are up like I asked. The pen is placed beside the contract before I kneel down - the closest Tess has come to achieving her goal so far tonight. She seems nervous and she trips over her tongue; so much for my bedside manner I’ve heard great things about.

“A slide….I fell.”

Just as that last syllable is spoken, I have already begun to slide two fingers into her most intimate place. She loses her breath but I continue to talk casually, roaming her vaginal canal with the index and middle fingers side by side.

“Even before you’re taken to a physician, you should keep the injured arm above heart level as much as possible. It keeps swelling to a minimum.”

I reach the tip of her cervix and feel her lubrication soaking into the rubber glove. The knuckles of my other two fingers rest against her opening and her arms are moving around her back in uneasiness. Gravity was not kind to the semen that did not go through. I collect her juices and my excess cum, a small amount that spilled onto the vulva and also some pre-ejaculatory fluid. I hear her moans at my unwelcome invasion; her eyes closed and face against the ground.

“Did you cry when it happened? Were you a brave girl?”

“Yes,” she murmurs.

Is that a yes to both? Nevertheless, I eventually pull out and upon examination, I’m satisfied with my wet fingers. I switch my attention to her backside and judging by her reaction, or lack of, she did not see this coming. Tess is twenty years of age, and it is alone in this hotel room that she will undergo the first form of surgery in her life. She needn’t worry though, unlike her father’s, this is only exploratory.
“Before you criticize a woman, you should walk a mile in her shoes. That way, when you criticize her, you are a mile away and you have her shoes.”
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Old 08-13-2008, 03:05 PM   #16
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Christian continues his humiliation by putting two gloved fingers inside me. Through the fog that clouds my mind, I wonder why he had put gloves on when he had put his bare fingers there before. The thought is fleeting, however, as the sensation of him fingering my secret parts takes over my consciousness. I hear him prattling on about the treatment for broken arms, but it just washes over me like waves of sound, without meaning. I wonder briefly if he’s trying to take my mind off what he is doing to me.

I feel his fingers going deeper and I try to keep myself from writhing in discomfort. His insistent fingers move inside and outside my vagina, and I can’t suppress a moan as I turn my face to the floor and close my eyes tightly.

I realize suddenly that he is asking me questions. I force my mind to focus on what he is saying. “Did you cry when it happened? Were you a brave girl?”

Why is he asking me this? I manage to stammer out “yes,” hoping that will satisfy him.

I feel Christian fingers slip out of me and I breathe a short-lived sigh of relief. I hear his gloved hand go between the cheeks of my backside, and to my horror I feel him pushing against my most hidden entrance. I start to struggle, but his fingers push past the ring of flesh, with a flash of pain. I try to pull away from his torturing fingers.

“Tess, I need you to relax now. You’re only hurting yourself by fighting it,” Christian says. His manner is that of a doctor and the words pierce my brain and compel me to try to obey.

I try to relax my muscles but can’t sustain it. I start to sob, “Oh, please…please…why are you doing this? No, Christian, I can’t do this!” Christian shushes my whimpers and moans and pushes strands of hair back from my face. His fingers are sliding in and out of me until I nearly scream from pain and shame.

I feel my toes curl painfully. Just when I think I can no longer endure it he stops moving until I catch my breath and calm down. When my breathing slows, he starts moving his fingers again and my sobs grow louder. I start to straighten my legs, but Christian puts his knee behind mine to keep me bent and open to him.

Suddenly he pulls his fingers out of me and while I lay sobbing on the floor I hear the sound of rubber as he takes off the gloves and tosses them in the small bin near the bed. I feel his hands on my hips pulling me to my knees. I don’t resist him as he pushes my knees apart. His left arm crosses my neck, taking hold of my shoulder on the other side and pulling me to him. I feel his manhood pressing insistently against my backside and to my horror he slowly pushes himself into my ass.

My hand fits between her cheeks and the same fingers look to slide inside her. The protection of the gloves mean I don’t have to worry about trimmed or clean fingernails. Now Tess is squirming, her hole is tensing up and her knees move when they shouldn’t. I advise her to relax, reminding her of what I had said earlier as we first slipped into bed. Resisting me will only lead to pain on her part, especially in this instance with a highly sensitive area. She is stunned by my actions and can only be at ease for a brief moment. She implores me to stop and to tell her why this must be done. There is one consolation, thanks to doctor-patient confidentiality, no one outside these walls will ever know of her humiliation.

“Shhh….”, I whisper, gently catching the strands of hair across her face and caressing it.

The rubber kills the softness I would normally feel with my hand’s touch. My fingers push further between her anal walls, but I am not searching for a fissure. Her own moisture and my semen begin to make moving in and out of her a simpler task. I give her a moment to breathe, allowing the internal sphincter to relax. I watch her closely, her panting gradually slowing down. I think about how she genuinely does not know why I am doing this – she is that naive. Her crying and moans return even stronger as my fingers repeat their motion again. As unprofessional as it sounds, it is turning me on. I press my knee onto hers to hold her legs in place until I finish the procedure.

I take my hand away from her bottom and peel the gloves off, throwing them into the waste basket. I catch her torso with my bare hands and her body is loose. She is then propped up with her back straight to me. I separate her knees and grind my already growing member against her smooth skin to increase my excitement. My arm is wrapped across her neck as I point into her back passage and slowly push into it. At first she appears to freeze, allowing another inch at a time to enter her and failing to oppose me until it is too late. Her arms start to twitch and fight the restraints. My hand is firmly gripping her right shoulder, pulling her body towards me. I feel her tightening around me, making the lubrication all the more important. A second thrust comes with more urgency, Tess’ mouth hanging open in disbelief. Her protests are released in quick gasps and sobs. I brush her hair away from one ear and lean my face against it. I remember Tommy’s text message, the one that believed her lies about meeting her uncle tonight. Do what you have to do, indeed.

“Do you like it when he calls you babe? I could call you that, too”, I tell her, still speaking softly.

I snigger to myself and pester her neck, a rough kiss turning into a light bite. She winces at pain that in truth must pale in comparison to the anal pressure she endures. Her head lowers and I loosen the grip above her chest, allowing her body to fall to the floor once again. Her tied wrists take the weight of my upper half, which in turn press into her back. Her breasts are squashed into the carpeted floor. I grit my teeth to accompany another drive into Tess’ rectum, as she screams in agony.

The pain goes through me like a white-hot flash and I freeze in shock as he pushes his way into me slowly. As the shock wears off and the pain makes its way into my consciousness, I start to struggle in earnest against the bonds. He pulls me to him, burying his entire length in my backside. He thrusts again, harder this time, and the pain takes my breath away. My mouth falls open to gasp for air and I start to sob and moan.

He leans into me and pushes the hair away from my sweaty face.

“Do you like it when he calls you Babe? I could call you that, too?” My mind rebels against him using the endearment that Tom uses on the phone and in texts for me. It's special to us, and it's HIS word for me, just as "Honey" is my word for him. Christian is making that dirty and I hate him for it.

He leans down further and bites me on the neck. I pull away in disgust at the intimate gesture. I drop my head and he bends me at the waist, pressing my face and upper body into the floor. He pulls almost out of me, then drives into my ass again. I can no longer contain my scream into the carpet. I cannot breathe and turn my face to the side, again crying out from the terrible pain. I kick back at him, and some of those kicks land on his leg but to no avail. My fingers try to grab at him and I feel my nail scrape against his skin. I hear a sharp intake of his breath and he moves away from my hands. He grabs a handful of my hair and thrusts into me again, making my scream die in my throat. I hear his mocking voice in my ear through the pain.

“How does it feel to be fucked in the ass….Babe?”

He lets go of my hair and starts thrusting again, with long painful strokes. My screams get louder and louder until he covers my mouth to muffle them.

The carpet is suitable for our bare feet but not Tess’ face, pressing into it because she cannot elevate herself. My hands rest beside her naked body and her first scream is lost in the ground’s covering. My teeth grind as I breathe heavily through my mouth. She manages to shift her face on its side and she wails for all to hear. I feel her heels desperately kicking back at my legs, but it is her fingernails that irritate me, scratching at my chest and forcing me to lift off her back. I catch her curly hair and with another stroke I’m fully inside her again. While her head leans back, this scream becomes nothing more than a worthless whine. The inserted vaginal juices and cum is assisting me between my skin and her tissue. I may no longer be in my desired position, but she can hear my cruel whispers clearly from here. I remind her of what is happening to her, that she actually has someone’s cock in her ass, using Tommy’s cute little word to accompany it.

I release her hair and push hard into her bowels, her head dropping and her screams of pain increasing in volume. I grope the soft flesh of her backside in rhythm with my repeated thrusts and keep myself steady, while my other hand covers her mouth. It becomes incessant sobbing, muffled in my sweaty palm. There are no shouts of “no” or “stop”, because they would not have any purpose. She is my investment and her body is my property until the completion of our arrangement. My grunting gradually becomes louder as I near climax and my manhood is throbbing; my head tilts back and I briefly take in the room’s light on the ceiling. I wrap my hand around her bound arms, seeing her fingers wriggle and wishing for escape. I savour the sensations against her walls, knowing full well I will never experience this with my wife again. My arm falls inwards and my gagging hand looses its grip.

Her insides take my second load, my chest hugging her lower back where the wrists are tied behind. The remainder of my sticky semen trickles into her anal canal. Our panting contradicts one another, mine of pleasure and exhaustion, hers of hurt and revulsion. A strand of her sweaty blonde hair sticks to my lip. I raise my head to check on her, her crying quieter but evident by her head’s minor movement. I slowly pull my length from her body and my closed fists press into the floor to help me to my feet. The knots in the tie are tight and would need a small object to fit between them, so I slide my fingers underneath the material and suddenly stretch it, uncomfortably rolling it off Tess’ sore wrists.

I see the contract on the dresser, collecting both that and the pen along side it. The wrinkles are smoothed out before it is placed on the sensitive back of Harry’s daughter for support. I sign my name in blue on the first page and then the second, which my assistant had typed up the previous night. With a cross of the T and the dots of the I’s, our transaction has concluded; her family has secured my services to save a worthless old man. The sheet awaits his signature below mine.

Finding a box of tissues on the dresser, I snatch two to wipe my brow and they join the surgical gloves in the bin. The damaged neck tie is stuffed in my pants pocket before I put on my boxer shorts. I look over at her as I collect my shirt, clasping each button with no hesitation. The young woman lays there with her hands by her sides for a few moments, perhaps not realizing they are free. Finally she brings her palms to her tearstained face, absorbing what has taken place. I’m not happy about the fact that I am half ready but she has yet to make a move, only delaying the long drive home.

“Get dressed. We’re leaving.”
Although the most incisive judges of the witches and even the witches themselves
were convinced of the guilt of witchcraft, this guilt nevertheless did not exist.
Thus it is with all guilt.
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Old 08-15-2008, 02:03 PM   #17
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Default Part 13

My mind has no room for anything except for the searing pain he is inflicting upon my virgin backside. He thrusts into my body for what seems an endless time, over and over, and I am unable to do anything but sob helplessly into his hand.

“Ohh, God, you’re going to split me in two!!” I try to tell him that he is rending my body, but his hand muffles the sound. Nobody has ever entered me there, not even Tom, and the passage is too narrow to accept him.

I feel his hands grasp my wrist and pull me back against him, while his hand falls away from my mouth. His ragged panting mocks my gasps of pain as he grows larger and harder and finally erupts into me. He falls across my back, finally exhausted.

After a moment he gets to his feet. I feel him yank the tie from my hands, bruising me as it scrapes across my skin. I am too tired and too empty inside to move.
I hear him moving around, and the rustle of paper. He lays the paper on my back and signs it. Dimly I realize that it must be the contract, but I cannot feel any elation or even satisfaction. I have paid dearly for that signature.

As the reality of my situation hits me, I bury my face in my hands and curl into a ball on the floor. I know that I can never tell anyone what just happened, never get comfort from the people I depend on most for support.

Paralyzed with shock and pain, I can’t move. He grabs my arm and roughly pulls me up until I am sitting, dazed and crying, on the bed. With the precision of a surgeon, he puts on my bra and lowers the dress over my head, impatient at my slow response. He rolls up the contract and puts it in one of my shoes. He picks me up, puts the shoes on my stomach, and puts my hand on the shoes so that I will keep them from falling.

He carries me out the door and with the strength of a devil, carries me down two flights of stairs to the 13th floor. Unlucky 13, where the ordeal started. I see with a shock that my panties are still beside the elevator where Christian had thrown them not even two hours ago. It seems a lifetime has passed since then. The sight of my own panties still there on the floor brings me out of my daze.

His lips twist into a wry grin. “There isn’t exactly 5 star cleaning,” he quips.

Christian lowers me to the floor and pushes the elevator button. I grab my panties and put them on as we wait. As we enter the elevator, I retreat to the far corner, as far away from my tormenter as I can get.

I look around to see him holding the shoes with the contract in one of them. I can hardly believe my eyes as I watch him straighten his hair, relaxed and confident, his ankles crossed casually as if nothing had happened. Could any human inflict such pain on someone and be so cold inside?

Her body curls up on the lonely floor as I put my trousers on, followed by my socks and shoes of matching colour. When my shirt is tucked in and its collar straightened, yet she is still lying there motionless, I rush over and catch her by the arm, taking her to the bed. There she is propped up, a blubbering mess, requiring me to dress her. I take the bra from the chair and place the cups across her breasts, clasping it at the back. Her arms barely lift for me in robotic co-operation for her dress to slip over her head, waiting until the brief opportunity to stand to let it even out. I pick up her high heels and stick the all important sheets of paper inside one of them.

Tess is then scooped up, the shoes placed on her belly with one arm holding onto them. Her handbag is around my neck, having dropped her phone back into it a few moments ago. I turn the handle with my right hand supporting her legs and hold the door open with my foot. I take in the hotel room one last time before I manage to press a finger against the light switch. Besides the waste and the unmade bed, a carpet stain and an empty wine bottle in the darkness is all that remains of our time here.

I carry her through the doorway and then down two flights of stairs from our floor fifteen. Her smooth legs hang over my arm but her head is more curious and aware of where she is going, as her curly hair swings back and forth. I watch my step but her light body is unproblematic for me and we reach the area where the business woman left off in a short time. It’s a pity she was so disgusted by Tess or we could have really had a party. We both notice her white panties on the ground and are surprised that although perhaps tampered with, they’re actually still here. This seems to inject some life in the young woman so I let her down.

I joke that The Orchid’s 5-star classification may in fact be puffery and summon the elevator. As she slips her underwear back on, eventually we get the ding of the opening doors and we step inside. I press the button for the ground floor and she has taken a position in the corner. We have come full circle since last here; over an hour ago she took the awkward lift with me in nervous anticipation, now she is broken – and the wait is just as long.

I lean back against the wall and fix my hair in the reflection, pushing back my sweaty fringe. I remove the strap of her handbag and fling it over; I’m not carrying everything for her. She fumbles it and it falls to the floor, a lipstick rolling away. The amusement of her scrambling for it at least passes some time as I watch the numbers come down to zero. Again she keeps her distance and looks at me like she has a monster for company. Does she seek my remorse? That cosmetic product she used was one of many voluntary efforts to appeal to me at our dinner. She should only feel sorry for herself. We reach reception and hurriedly walk towards the exit, but Tess asks if she can take a taxi home, which the receptionist overhears.

“I can phone a taxi for you if you’d like, Miss”, we hear behind us.

“No thank you, I’m driving her home myself”

I force a smile and tug the barefoot beauty with me, holding the door for her. She fidgets with her dress straps and meets a gently blowing wind, but enough to fill the air with a chill at this time of night. It’s threatening to rain for the first time. Almost forgetting my chivalry, I remove my suit jacket and drape it across her shoulders. She reaches for her heels but they are staying with me, hooked by two fingers. She rejected them at the restaurant in favour of her sandals, paid for with my own money - I don’t see why I should return them now. We cross the street holding hands and she attempts to run along the dirty pavement on her toes.

It is the same few minute walk from here to Joel’s as earlier, and though I don’t remember which monkey parked my car, I see one of them in uniform up ahead. I tell him to fetch my Lamborghini. When he returns he hands me the keys and raises the door for my date, not before curiously looking at her feet. I place the shoes along with the contract on her floor space so they are not in my way, and waste no time in starting the engine. I tell her to put on her seatbelt and do a u-turn at the first junction, since Harry’s lovely home is in the opposite direction. We enter minutes of silence as Tess hugs the edge of her seat by the door and whimpers.

Just as I start to wonder where my handbag is, he throws it at me contemptuously. I barely catch it and have to chase after the lipstick that falls out. I can hardly stand to be so close to him. I look into his face, looking for some sign that he feels something, but his face is composed and calm.

We finally get out of the elevator and I have to force myself not to break into a run at reception. I just want to be as far away from him as quickly as I can.

“Can…can I call a taxi, please….?”

The receptionist overhears and offers to call a taxi for me. I turn to her eagerly, but Christian says, “No, thank you. I’m driving her home myself.”

He is still carrying my shoes, but drags me out into the street. It’s cold and he puts his jacket around my shoulder and I shudder at the overly familiar touch. I reach for my shoes, wanting to put them on, but he pulls them back out of my reach so I raise up on my tiptoes, trying not to get my feet any dirtier than I have to on the way back to restaurant.

It doesn’t take long to get back to Joel’s. He hands the parking lot attendant his keys and brings a long, low sports car. The attendant opens the door for me, looking at my bare feet. I still don’t want to sit next to Christian, and go automatically for a back seat…but realize the sports car doesn’t have one. Christian climbs in beside me and his presence scrambles my thought processes. I can’t think with his shoulder and mine nearly touching.

He puts my shoes on the floor beside me. The contract – the prize for all this pain – is carelessly rolled up in one of them. He starts the engine, tells me to fasten my seatbelt, and then throws the car into a fast turn. I cling to the seat and can’t restrain a little cry of fear.

For ten minutes I sit in misery, not able to summon the strength to move or talk. At a stoplight, I ask the question that has been burning in my brain all this time. I am mortified to hear my voice catch as I ask him,

“Why did you do that? …. Why me?”

He pauses a minute, then his face hardens.

“I thought you knew Tess, it had to be you. Secrets always come out in the end. But you, you won’t tell a soul what happened tonight. Not after the operation, and certainly not before it, because either way you will lose someone you love. You just go home and lie to your boyfriend, like on the phone, and he’ll never know the truth. Lisa will figure out what I’ve done, but there is no proof without your story. Balance is restored but as far as everyone knows, I am still the faithful husband.”

Faithful husband? I think to myself that he will keep doing this. He’s got the flashy and expensive yellow car, the well-tailored clothes. I suddenly remember what his assistant said just that afternoon about him flirting more. It seems so long ago….

With a sinking feeling I realize that he is right. I can’t tell anyone until my father’s procedure is done. If I wait that long and don’t say anything, all the physical signs will be gone and nobody will believe me when I accuse a prominent surgeon of raping me. I am alone in this, and I can never tell anyone. Ever.

He is driving fast, and the car’s engine races. He swerves around traffic, missing it by inches, and becomes impatient when an ambulance races past us and we have to pull over for it to pass. My heart leaps into my throat when a group of college kids – drunk after a careless night on the town – step into the street and he is forced to wrench the wheel violently to one side.

I lean my head against the window, watching the raindrops moving across the glass. Christian looks over at me.

“You should go back to your education, you know, get qualified. You don’t want to be a drop out like your old man.”
“Before you criticize a woman, you should walk a mile in her shoes. That way, when you criticize her, you are a mile away and you have her shoes.”
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Old 08-18-2008, 09:46 PM   #18
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For the first third of this thirty minute drive, she does not speak a word to me, squeezing the belt strap in sadness. I had been making good time until now, when we get stuck at a red light notorious for being slow to change green. Tess’ head remains motionless against the window, but suddenly she is asking questions through an escaped tear – why I did it to her, and why her and not someone else. I assume she means when I sodomized her, where the aggression of the night took off. I explain that it is obvious why she was chosen for my adultery. Another woman, even with the privacy of a prostitute, and the secret is likely to come out eventually, one way or the other. Tess has no reason to tell anyone about this, it’s perfect. She cannot afford to wait until after the operation to accuse me of rape, with my testimony about the contract and without any physical evidence of force. Even her future fiancé would be suspicious as to why she delayed pressing charges, the reality of the consensual one night stand enough to drive a wedge between them.

Telling her mother and father the truth tonight, whichever version of events, is simply not an option if she wants both of them to witness her wedding. She has already proven this evening that she can lie with the best of them, and that’s what will be required when she and Tommy follow up on that emotional phone call. My wife, on the other hand, will not be as easy. She kept her affair from me for weeks, and although I wasn’t with young Tess as long, she will smell her on me. Dining with a client’s pretty daughter and only getting a pair of shoes for my trouble isn’t a believable story either – but it doesn’t matter. Without Tess’ confirmation, Lisa will never discuss her speculation with anybody either. Those two will be the only people in the world that do not see me as the victim, the reliable husband and father.

Eager to get home, and bring Harry’s daughter back to him at a reasonable hour, I often overtake the slower cars and ignore the amber sequence at traffic on a couple of occasions. I make an exception for an ambulance, the emergency siren blaring past us. I have been getting both looks of jealousy and peculiarity since purchasing my expensive car, but when I have the money, I spend it. I’m hardly drinking and driving; most of that French wine went on my date’s breasts and the hotel room floor. Another delay almost comes in the form of drunken students, four girls stumbling out onto the road and forcing me to narrowly avoid them.

I smile at Tess when she gasps. That should be her, in a way. I feel like I have taken her from rags to riches and back to rags. If she says the word, I will gladly swap this contract for the patronage of college fees, but I know she’s going to choose her family. Raindrops trickle onto the windscreen as we get a good run on the motorway. I advise her to return to school and complete her education. Her father dropped out in his first year and even at that stage he was over ten years my senior.

“Don’t talk about him like that…”, she says.

“He’s a loser, Tess. That’s why I’m where I am today, and why you find yourselves in this mess. Anyway, tell him to see me at 9 on Monday morning for a consult.”

She sulks at my comments for the remainder of the journey, watching through the side window as we enter her neighborhood. Her knees are close together, with the handbag on top of them, leaving all the leg room for the high heels. I turn the corner of her street but ultimately park by the curb several houses short of her driveway. She begins to point in that direction but I know full well where we are – out of her parents’ sight where we won’t attract their attention. I leave the husky engine running and switch off the lights temporarily. She has one hand on the door handle now, awaiting my instructions with the corner of her eye. Her toes twitch on the mat. I see a minor hematoma on the skin of her neck, and the doctor in me feels an urge to suggest holding a frozen spoon to the site of infliction – but I say nothing. My hand finds its way to a strand of hair by her ear, playing with it and caressing her cheek with my thumb. Her eyes close at my familiar touch and the words that follow.

“So you laid on your back for a man’s money. You’re not the first to do it, and you certainly won’t be the last. And who knows what the future holds, maybe Tommy will have debts to pay off one day”, I add with a distasteful grin.

Tess slaps me, with enough potency to catch me off guard. I keep my head turned and hold my palm by the side of my face. Perhaps I should have taken a whore; she would have been less expensive, troublesome and more active between the sheets.

“I hate you…”, she snarls with clear sincerity, looking into my eyes for the first time since we have been on the road.

She protects herself when I suddenly lean across her but it is only to undo her seat belt and yank my own jacket away from her shoulders. I tell her to get out, pushing against her arm until she manages to lift the car door open. They pull out vertically by 60°, and when she steps under it and onto the pavement, I toss the contract outside before it closes electronically. The twenty year old collects it by a road grate, briefly staring back at her transport – and the man that blackmailed her. She turns on her bare feet in the dark and the light rain that falls. Feeling thirsty, I reach for my bottle of water in the glove department, but there is only a minuscule amount left. The pumps are taken from the floor and placed on their sides on the passenger seat, good as new. I take the photos out of my wallet once again and smile at Joey standing next to me. I bet the little rogue has yet to go to bed. Lisa causes a different reaction, imagining her waiting by my cold dinner. I think I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.

This man…this evil man…has the nerve to call my father a dropout? A loser? My father is twice the man Christian will ever be!! I want to tell him off but I know that I need him to save my father’s life so I bite my tongue, seething with anger. He tells me he will see my father on Monday.

I stare out the side window for the rest of the ride home, my knees pressed together and clutching my purse. I stare down at my hands, picturing a ring on the third finger of my left hand. Would Tom still go through with it if he knew what I was doing when we were talking on the phone?

He stops short of our house by a half block. I start to point out our house, but he turns off the headlights and looks at me. My eyes lowered, I wait for him to say something…do something – afraid of what might be coming. He reaches out his hand to my face, and I recoil from his touch. I refuse to look at him. What he says next freezes my soul.

“So you laid on your back for a man’s money. You’re not the first to do it, and you certainly won’t be the last. And who knows what the future holds, maybe Tommy will have debts to pay off one day.”

Without thinking I slap him across the face, all the strength of my anger and frustration unleashed on his cheek. His hand goes to his face. I hiss out my hatred of him, finally looking at him in the amber glow of the streetlight. I see that he has lipstick on his collar. Good. Maybe now Lisa will finally leave him.

He leans across the seat, and I cringe away from him, thinking he intends to reciprocate. Instead, he unfastens my seat belt and pulls his jacket away from me.

“Get the fuck out.”

I struggle with the car door, but finally get it open and scramble out of the car. He throws the contract out after me and it lands in the gutter. I look back at him briefly, turn on my heel and step away from the car, walking toward home. I get the evening sandals out of my purse and put them on, holding on to someone’s mailbox to steady myself. I put my foot on the ground, but have to take one of the sandals off again. A pebble falls out onto the ground.

I hear the roar of the engine as Christian drives past me, and I walk up the block to my family’s home. My legs feel like they have weights attached to them. While I move along the street, I brush some mud and dirty water off the contract, and fold it into my purse. I long to be clean and for a hot shower. I fumble in my bag for my housekey.

I pause at the bottom of the path, trying to compose myself. I see the light coming from the window and know my folks are waiting for me to come home. I feel as though it has been a year since I last saw this comforting place. I am numb, and can’t accept what has happened to me tonight. I feel that I have aged twenty years in just a few hours.

I trudge up the front walk. I am desperately tired and every inch of my body aches.

Although the most incisive judges of the witches and even the witches themselves
were convinced of the guilt of witchcraft, this guilt nevertheless did not exist.
Thus it is with all guilt.
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Old 01-07-2009, 02:33 PM   #19
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I never get tired of reading The Signature. I enjoyed it when I first read it and then re-read for the review club and finally again now. I have never had an experience with rp where my character was blackmailed and I found this kind of rp very arousing. Of course the authors have a lot to do with it as they wrote it excellently.

Now dont go and get a big head on me, you too, but it the truth. It is an excellent written rp.

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Old 01-20-2009, 02:45 PM   #20
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Originally Posted by prisonerslave View Post
i am very excited for the next post. I am a huge fan!
Originally Posted by RLA68 View Post
Very nicely done by both of you Rogue and Sierra.
Originally Posted by NastyJack View Post
Excellent story! Excellent excellent!
Originally Posted by rvplymates View Post
I never get tired of reading The Signature. I enjoyed it when I first read it and then re-read for the review club and finally again now. I have never had an experience with rp where my character was blackmailed and I found this kind of rp very arousing. Of course the authors have a lot to do with it as they wrote it excellently.

Now dont go and get a big head on me, you too, but it the truth. It is an excellent written rp.

Thank you all of you for your feedback, and nice rep comments too. It's very much appreciated to see that others enjoyed this roleplay nearly as much I did writing it with Sierra.

You're getting blackmailed now yourself RV
“Before you criticize a woman, you should walk a mile in her shoes. That way, when you criticize her, you are a mile away and you have her shoes.”
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