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lowblow emma
Star
- Joined
- Sep 21, 2013
- Location
- London
I recently started some rp along the theme of a girl who is waiting in a bar. My idea was based on a story I wrote. It is on the web, but I'm not going to tell you where to find it. This is it. See if you can work out what is happening. Be warned, there are some twists.
Samantha gave herself a final check as she left the washroom. Yes, perfect, just the right image. A dark blue suit, white blouse with black stockings and high heels. Every inch the professional woman in town on business or for a conference. Except. Yes, except. The skirt was maybe a little bit too short. And perhaps one too many of the buttons on her blouse were undone. And those heels, weren’t they just a little too high? Those exceptions were important. They sent a message, to anyone who could read it.
She went to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. The bartender asked if she wanted to charge it to her room. She ignored the implied question and smiled. “I always pay cash, it’s so much easier to tip that way.” He took the note she laid on the counter and didn’t offer her the change.
As she poured the tonic into her gin, she selected her seat. There by the window. From there she could see everyone coming into the bar. And where everyone would see her. She unbuttoned her jacket, crossed her legs and took the first slow sip of her drink.
A few guys came in and drifted past, treating her as what she appeared to me. Then came the crumpled suit. He wandered, apparently casually, to the table next to hers.
“They’ve done it up nicely, haven’t they?” She’d forgotten he was there. “The bar”, he explained, “they’ve done it up nicely.” Samantha took a few moments to look around. “Have they?” she asked, “I’ve not been here before.” Then he was off, explaining why he always stayed here and how it had changed out of recognition under new management.
As she listening with half an ear, a short skirt arrived. Electric blue and barely covering her cooch. She checked out the room as she waited for a drink, leaning on the bar and favouring anyone who cared to look with a view of her ass. Most of the customers looked. The crumpled suit didn’t stop talking, but he looked. Samantha looked too. And she noticed that when she paid, the bartender didn’t offer her change either. The skirt moved to a table further along. Was that a look of disapproval as she passed?
“Are you here for the conference?” The sudden change of tack by the suit took her by surprise. “No, I’m not. You?” That set him off again. She stole a quick glance at the bar clock and turned slightly to give him her full attention.
She was so engrossed in listening that she missed the arrival of the polished shoes. The first she knew of his arrival was his deep baritone asking for a beer. She looked appreciatively at the high polish on his shoes, the light grey suit over a pale blue shirt, and the neatly trimmed curly black hair. He surveyed the bar and moved towards the short skirt, passing close to Samantha’s table. “Excuse me” Her soft voice arrested his progress. He turned and smiled. “Can you tell me if that clock is right?” He looked at the clock behind the bar and checked his watch. She took his hand and turned it slightly to see the dial. “Nice watch”, she said, her hand lingering on his. She made no attempt to check the watch on her own wrist. She released his hand and the polish shoes started to move away. “Isn’t she just a bit obvious?” He paused and followed her eyes to the short skirt. She was pulling at her hem as she crossed her legs and just failed to prevent a flash of magenta panties. He smiled. “Yes, perhaps she is a bit. Are you waiting for someone?” “Not any more” she said and he sat down.
The crumpled suit moved away, drifting in the direction of the short skirt, who crossed and recrossed her legs in welcome.
They sat talking quietly and slowly finished their drinks. “Would you like another?” the shoes asked. “Not here” she said and stood up.
They didn’t speak as they rode to his floor. Once in his room, Samantha told him to open the champagne while she freshened up. She rinsed her mouth to sweeten her breath and touched up her lip gloss. As she was spraying some perfume on the tops of her thighs, she heard the champagne cork pop. He had just filled her glass as she came back into the room. “How did you know there was champagne in the fridge?” She took the glass he offered her and put it on the table by the armchair. “There’s always champagne” she explained, as she took off her jacket and folded it over a chair. He moved behind her and slipped his arms round her waist. She twisted to face him. Her slap wiped the grin off his face. “Payment up front, those are the terms.” He pulled his money clip out of his pocket and counted out some notes. Samantha took the clip and counted out some more. As he put out his arms towards her, she slapped him again, harder. “Isn’t that what I paid for?” he asked curtly. “No”, Samantha explained patiently, “you paid for an adventure.” “When does my adventure start?” She shook her head in dismay. “This is my adventure, not yours, and it started when I spoke to you in the bar.” She picked up her glass and settled into the armchair, crossing her legs slowly. “I can see you need to be told the rules. You will not touch. You may look as much as you want. Smell too if you want. But you do not touch. Is that clear?” The shoes rubbed his cheek and nodded.
“That’s good, Michael. Now I want you to strip.”
The shoes laughed and told her that wasn’t his name. “All my clients are called Michael,” she smiled. “And what do they call you?” he demanded. She sighed deeply, reached up and took a firm grip on his balls. He squealed, more in surprise than pain. “They don’t. They don’t speak. They listen and obey. Do you understand?” The shoes started to speak, but stopped as her grip tightened. He nodded slowly.
She leant back and sipped her champagne. “Now, where were we? Ah yes, strip, Michael.”
The shoes began to remove his shirt, but was stopped short by an abrupt command. “No, I said strip, not undress. You have seen a stripper, haven’t you?” The shoes affected an innocent look. “OK, but I’m sure your wife has stripped for you.” She smiled at the grin on his face as he remembered how she had stripped for him on their honeymoon. “Well then, you know how to do it. Excite me. Arouse me, if you can.” And so he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, turned his back and lowered it over his broad shoulders. Turning back, he let it fall slowly off his arms, revealing a tanned and muscular belly with a thatch of hair around his nipples, leading in a thin black line towards his waist. Samantha watched appreciatively and beckoned him forward. She meandered her long nails around and over each nipple, and traced that inviting line of hair. He was close enough for her warm breath to reach his flesh. At last she sat back and gestured for him to continue. It was difficult to make a show of taking of his shoes and socks, but he teasingly let his pants drop to the floor. Her eyes traced the lines of his slender legs. She smiled at the satisfying bulge in his Groovin’ low rise boxers and, as she shifted in her seat, felt a dampness between her thighs.
“That was good. You deserve a little encouragement.” She stood and removed her blouse and skirt. Not invitingly as he had done, but clinically and coldly, as if undressing for a doctor’s examination. The coolness of her performance nonetheless had a noticeable effect on the bulge in the boxers and a small damp patch appeared.
She took each of his nipples between a finger and thumb, and drew him towards her. As the nails of her left hand dug deep into his flesh, her right hand worked slowly towards the bulge, where it weighed his sac. She felt him tense, waiting for the grip that never came. Instead she dropped back onto her seat, flicking her leg and crashing her right foot hard into his balls. For a few seconds, he stood still with a startled expression, like an animal caught in a car’s headlights. Then he let out a long moan and sank to his knees.
“I didn’t tell you to kneel, Michael. Stand up again”, she commanded. Slowly he rose to his feet and began to straighten, only to double over as he was gripped again by a spasm of pain. Finally, he managed to stand more or less upright. “That’s better, Michael. Now you will remain on your feet and upright at all times unless and until I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?” He nodded in compliance and she kicked him again. This time the point of her toe connected with his left ball. Taken by surprise he only just managed to stay on his feet. She was pleased to notice that his bulge had not diminished despite his evident pain.
“Now, I don’t think you’ve quite finished stripping, have you?” He turned his back and moved away, out of range of a surprise foot, and eased his boxers over his tight ass. Taking the opportunity to bend forward as he did so to get some relief from the pain. He kicked them off his feet before turning slowly to show her his erection standing proud despite the punishment his balls had received.
Samantha clapped her hands. “Michael, that was good, but we don’t want just good do we, we want effective. I told you to arouse me. Let’s see if you have. She slipped her hand inside her panties and sighed as she rubbed a finger over her wet clit. She brought it out and slowly raised it to her nose, where she drew in a long breath to savour her juices. “You know, Michael, I think you have succeeded. Would you like to smell?” He smiled and nodded. Again she drew her finger along her slit, rose and held it under his nose before wiping it across his lips. While he was licking her juices from his lips, she drove her knee hard into his balls. As he grunted and fell against her, she stepped back and let him fall to the floor at her feet.
When he finally was able to sit upright, she was dressed and holding her bag. “Are you going?” he asked as he propped himself against the bed. “Yes, I’d better get back right away or that baby sitter will want overtime. You did tell her I’d be back by 11 didn’t you?” He nodded. “That was good, wasn’t it, Sam? Our best yet. You could be a real hooker, you’re so good.” She smiled and bent to rub his head. “How do you feel, love”? “It’s strange”, he winced again, “I’m in pain but I’m aroused too. I’m desperate for a fuck.” He looked at her pleadingly, but she shook her head. “We’ve not got time now. Wait till you get home. You’ll be feeling stronger by then. And you know I like you to be strong.” She left him rubbing his belly gently as the pain began to subside.
It had been his idea. A way of keeping their marriage alive after the children were born. Pretend to meet as strangers. In a restaurant, on a train or a plane. In a hotel like tonight. And then play it out.
The elevator stopped on the way down and the short skirt got in. “What the fuck are you doing here, Samantha? I thought we had an agreement. You don’t work my hotels and I don’t work yours.” Samantha adopted a soothing tone. “Don’t get your panties damp, Carol. This was just a one off. OK?” Carol didn’t seem convinced, so Samantha continued to reason with her. “Come on Carol, you didn’t miss out, you got that businessman.” Carol grimaced. “He’s a slob. Tips well though.” Samantha laughed. “Does he know how well he tipped?” Carol opened her bag and took out a packet of tablets. “He wouldn’t wake up for hours and when he does he wouldn’t remember what happened.” Samantha rested her hand lightly on Carol’s arm. “Look, just to show there are no hard feelings, my trick is in room 2020.” Carol grinned. “You’re a real pal, Samantha. He looked real cute.” “Don’t keep him long”, Samantha warned, “he has to get home to his wife. Leave something for her.” When they reached the lobby, Carol’s hand jabbed the button for the 20th floor. As she walked away, Samantha shouted over her shoulder “By the way, he hasn’t got much cash left.” The last thing she heard as the elevator doors closed was Carol calling after her “Don’t worry, I’ll give him a discount.”
Samantha gave herself a final check as she left the washroom. Yes, perfect, just the right image. A dark blue suit, white blouse with black stockings and high heels. Every inch the professional woman in town on business or for a conference. Except. Yes, except. The skirt was maybe a little bit too short. And perhaps one too many of the buttons on her blouse were undone. And those heels, weren’t they just a little too high? Those exceptions were important. They sent a message, to anyone who could read it.
She went to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. The bartender asked if she wanted to charge it to her room. She ignored the implied question and smiled. “I always pay cash, it’s so much easier to tip that way.” He took the note she laid on the counter and didn’t offer her the change.
As she poured the tonic into her gin, she selected her seat. There by the window. From there she could see everyone coming into the bar. And where everyone would see her. She unbuttoned her jacket, crossed her legs and took the first slow sip of her drink.
A few guys came in and drifted past, treating her as what she appeared to me. Then came the crumpled suit. He wandered, apparently casually, to the table next to hers.
“They’ve done it up nicely, haven’t they?” She’d forgotten he was there. “The bar”, he explained, “they’ve done it up nicely.” Samantha took a few moments to look around. “Have they?” she asked, “I’ve not been here before.” Then he was off, explaining why he always stayed here and how it had changed out of recognition under new management.
As she listening with half an ear, a short skirt arrived. Electric blue and barely covering her cooch. She checked out the room as she waited for a drink, leaning on the bar and favouring anyone who cared to look with a view of her ass. Most of the customers looked. The crumpled suit didn’t stop talking, but he looked. Samantha looked too. And she noticed that when she paid, the bartender didn’t offer her change either. The skirt moved to a table further along. Was that a look of disapproval as she passed?
“Are you here for the conference?” The sudden change of tack by the suit took her by surprise. “No, I’m not. You?” That set him off again. She stole a quick glance at the bar clock and turned slightly to give him her full attention.
She was so engrossed in listening that she missed the arrival of the polished shoes. The first she knew of his arrival was his deep baritone asking for a beer. She looked appreciatively at the high polish on his shoes, the light grey suit over a pale blue shirt, and the neatly trimmed curly black hair. He surveyed the bar and moved towards the short skirt, passing close to Samantha’s table. “Excuse me” Her soft voice arrested his progress. He turned and smiled. “Can you tell me if that clock is right?” He looked at the clock behind the bar and checked his watch. She took his hand and turned it slightly to see the dial. “Nice watch”, she said, her hand lingering on his. She made no attempt to check the watch on her own wrist. She released his hand and the polish shoes started to move away. “Isn’t she just a bit obvious?” He paused and followed her eyes to the short skirt. She was pulling at her hem as she crossed her legs and just failed to prevent a flash of magenta panties. He smiled. “Yes, perhaps she is a bit. Are you waiting for someone?” “Not any more” she said and he sat down.
The crumpled suit moved away, drifting in the direction of the short skirt, who crossed and recrossed her legs in welcome.
They sat talking quietly and slowly finished their drinks. “Would you like another?” the shoes asked. “Not here” she said and stood up.
They didn’t speak as they rode to his floor. Once in his room, Samantha told him to open the champagne while she freshened up. She rinsed her mouth to sweeten her breath and touched up her lip gloss. As she was spraying some perfume on the tops of her thighs, she heard the champagne cork pop. He had just filled her glass as she came back into the room. “How did you know there was champagne in the fridge?” She took the glass he offered her and put it on the table by the armchair. “There’s always champagne” she explained, as she took off her jacket and folded it over a chair. He moved behind her and slipped his arms round her waist. She twisted to face him. Her slap wiped the grin off his face. “Payment up front, those are the terms.” He pulled his money clip out of his pocket and counted out some notes. Samantha took the clip and counted out some more. As he put out his arms towards her, she slapped him again, harder. “Isn’t that what I paid for?” he asked curtly. “No”, Samantha explained patiently, “you paid for an adventure.” “When does my adventure start?” She shook her head in dismay. “This is my adventure, not yours, and it started when I spoke to you in the bar.” She picked up her glass and settled into the armchair, crossing her legs slowly. “I can see you need to be told the rules. You will not touch. You may look as much as you want. Smell too if you want. But you do not touch. Is that clear?” The shoes rubbed his cheek and nodded.
“That’s good, Michael. Now I want you to strip.”
The shoes laughed and told her that wasn’t his name. “All my clients are called Michael,” she smiled. “And what do they call you?” he demanded. She sighed deeply, reached up and took a firm grip on his balls. He squealed, more in surprise than pain. “They don’t. They don’t speak. They listen and obey. Do you understand?” The shoes started to speak, but stopped as her grip tightened. He nodded slowly.
She leant back and sipped her champagne. “Now, where were we? Ah yes, strip, Michael.”
The shoes began to remove his shirt, but was stopped short by an abrupt command. “No, I said strip, not undress. You have seen a stripper, haven’t you?” The shoes affected an innocent look. “OK, but I’m sure your wife has stripped for you.” She smiled at the grin on his face as he remembered how she had stripped for him on their honeymoon. “Well then, you know how to do it. Excite me. Arouse me, if you can.” And so he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, turned his back and lowered it over his broad shoulders. Turning back, he let it fall slowly off his arms, revealing a tanned and muscular belly with a thatch of hair around his nipples, leading in a thin black line towards his waist. Samantha watched appreciatively and beckoned him forward. She meandered her long nails around and over each nipple, and traced that inviting line of hair. He was close enough for her warm breath to reach his flesh. At last she sat back and gestured for him to continue. It was difficult to make a show of taking of his shoes and socks, but he teasingly let his pants drop to the floor. Her eyes traced the lines of his slender legs. She smiled at the satisfying bulge in his Groovin’ low rise boxers and, as she shifted in her seat, felt a dampness between her thighs.
“That was good. You deserve a little encouragement.” She stood and removed her blouse and skirt. Not invitingly as he had done, but clinically and coldly, as if undressing for a doctor’s examination. The coolness of her performance nonetheless had a noticeable effect on the bulge in the boxers and a small damp patch appeared.
She took each of his nipples between a finger and thumb, and drew him towards her. As the nails of her left hand dug deep into his flesh, her right hand worked slowly towards the bulge, where it weighed his sac. She felt him tense, waiting for the grip that never came. Instead she dropped back onto her seat, flicking her leg and crashing her right foot hard into his balls. For a few seconds, he stood still with a startled expression, like an animal caught in a car’s headlights. Then he let out a long moan and sank to his knees.
“I didn’t tell you to kneel, Michael. Stand up again”, she commanded. Slowly he rose to his feet and began to straighten, only to double over as he was gripped again by a spasm of pain. Finally, he managed to stand more or less upright. “That’s better, Michael. Now you will remain on your feet and upright at all times unless and until I tell you otherwise. Is that clear?” He nodded in compliance and she kicked him again. This time the point of her toe connected with his left ball. Taken by surprise he only just managed to stay on his feet. She was pleased to notice that his bulge had not diminished despite his evident pain.
“Now, I don’t think you’ve quite finished stripping, have you?” He turned his back and moved away, out of range of a surprise foot, and eased his boxers over his tight ass. Taking the opportunity to bend forward as he did so to get some relief from the pain. He kicked them off his feet before turning slowly to show her his erection standing proud despite the punishment his balls had received.
Samantha clapped her hands. “Michael, that was good, but we don’t want just good do we, we want effective. I told you to arouse me. Let’s see if you have. She slipped her hand inside her panties and sighed as she rubbed a finger over her wet clit. She brought it out and slowly raised it to her nose, where she drew in a long breath to savour her juices. “You know, Michael, I think you have succeeded. Would you like to smell?” He smiled and nodded. Again she drew her finger along her slit, rose and held it under his nose before wiping it across his lips. While he was licking her juices from his lips, she drove her knee hard into his balls. As he grunted and fell against her, she stepped back and let him fall to the floor at her feet.
When he finally was able to sit upright, she was dressed and holding her bag. “Are you going?” he asked as he propped himself against the bed. “Yes, I’d better get back right away or that baby sitter will want overtime. You did tell her I’d be back by 11 didn’t you?” He nodded. “That was good, wasn’t it, Sam? Our best yet. You could be a real hooker, you’re so good.” She smiled and bent to rub his head. “How do you feel, love”? “It’s strange”, he winced again, “I’m in pain but I’m aroused too. I’m desperate for a fuck.” He looked at her pleadingly, but she shook her head. “We’ve not got time now. Wait till you get home. You’ll be feeling stronger by then. And you know I like you to be strong.” She left him rubbing his belly gently as the pain began to subside.
It had been his idea. A way of keeping their marriage alive after the children were born. Pretend to meet as strangers. In a restaurant, on a train or a plane. In a hotel like tonight. And then play it out.
The elevator stopped on the way down and the short skirt got in. “What the fuck are you doing here, Samantha? I thought we had an agreement. You don’t work my hotels and I don’t work yours.” Samantha adopted a soothing tone. “Don’t get your panties damp, Carol. This was just a one off. OK?” Carol didn’t seem convinced, so Samantha continued to reason with her. “Come on Carol, you didn’t miss out, you got that businessman.” Carol grimaced. “He’s a slob. Tips well though.” Samantha laughed. “Does he know how well he tipped?” Carol opened her bag and took out a packet of tablets. “He wouldn’t wake up for hours and when he does he wouldn’t remember what happened.” Samantha rested her hand lightly on Carol’s arm. “Look, just to show there are no hard feelings, my trick is in room 2020.” Carol grinned. “You’re a real pal, Samantha. He looked real cute.” “Don’t keep him long”, Samantha warned, “he has to get home to his wife. Leave something for her.” When they reached the lobby, Carol’s hand jabbed the button for the 20th floor. As she walked away, Samantha shouted over her shoulder “By the way, he hasn’t got much cash left.” The last thing she heard as the elevator doors closed was Carol calling after her “Don’t worry, I’ll give him a discount.”