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Fantasy: Beep

May 19, 2007

I drive up in front of the airport hotel, take a deep breath, and get out of the car. As I hand my keys to the valet, I notice him look me up and down. Appreciatively, I hope.

What he’s looking at are the 4-inch micro stiletto black patent heels, seamed stockings, short black skirt, and tight red blouse that you’ve told me to wear when I meet you today. I try to look confident and sexy as I walk down the ramp then ride the escalator down to the hotel lobby, but I know that every man I pass is checking out my legs, my ass. Heck, probably half the women are too, at least the ones who aren’t busy trying to avert their husband’s wandering eyes from looking at me. With every glance, every sweep of the eyes down, then up, then down again, my face gets a little bit more red.

I’m relieved to sit down in the lobby, where – although I might still be on display – at least I’m no longer a moving target. You’ve already texted me to say you’re off the plane, so I wait where I can see the security gate, expecting to meet you on the way down.

And I wait. And wait some more. Eventually my cell phone beeps with an SMS.

> You’d look sexier if you’d stop slouching.

I look around, trying to spot you, but you’re nowhere to be found. Clearly you’d gotten there before I did, or come around the other way, or something. I sit up straighter, breasts out, tummy in, putting on a show for you.

Beep.

> That’s better. But I want to see your legs. Get up and walk over to the gift shop, do some browsing. Leave your suitcase behind.

I stand up, tugging down that short skirt, and walk over to the gift shop. I’m still trying to figure out where you are, and not paying attention to what I’m doing, and my heel pops out of one of the shoes. I stop, readjust, and hope you didn’t see me.

The gift shop is filled with the usual airport reading material, and I pick up a copy of Cosmo, lured in by the promise of “20 Ways to Make Your Man Take Charge in the Bedroom.” Although this is clearly not an area where I need tips.

Beep.

> You haven’t been practicing in your shoes, have you? You’ll be punished for that later. Go sit back down.

I put the magazine back in the rack and walk back across the lobby, with – fortunately – no missteps this time. Sitting there, I look around again – over to the restaurant, up to the balconies, but still I don’t see you. It’s at once maddening and arousing. I love knowing you’re watching me, and I feel your eyes on my body like a caress.

Beep.

> Okay, let’s try this again. Back to the gift shop, and this time, do it right.

I wonder what the front desk staff are thinking of my little parade route, but I don’t hesitate, and head across the lobby to the gift shop again. My heels click as I walk across the hard floor. Each click reminds me that I’m your slut. With each step, I feel my pussy get wetter, with the anticipation of seeing you, being used by you, serving you.

Safely in the gift shop, I pick up another women’s magazine, this one promising “10 Secrets to Pleasing Your Man.”

Beep.

> Much better. That’s a good little slut.

Beep.

> There’s a key in your name at the desk. Meet me in room 866.

Beep.

> Be ready to be fucked.

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