As the car slowed, chugging over the rails, a garbled announcement came over the speakers notifying the passengers of the station they had just pulled into. I grabbed my tote from where it was sitting at my feet and stood, stumbling slightly in my heels as we abruptly stopped moving. I caught myself on a pole and looked up to see a man sitting across from me staring at my bare legs. He was hot and I definitely didn’t mind, so I blew him a saucy kiss. I saw his lips quirk up in the shadow of a smile as I slung my bag on my shoulder, pulled my coat tighter around me, and turned to follow the other passengers getting off. My heels clicked and echoed quietly in the underground Bart station, relatively empty at the moment. All the commuters had already made their way to their respective homes, and now only San Francisco natives and tourists were left in the station at 9pm on a Friday night. Well them and college kids out going bar hopping with their fake IDs.
I chuckled as I watched a particularly affectionate young couple groping each other as they made their way up to street level. Ah those had been the days...But this was supposed to be quite the promising night as well, and with that thought in mind I turned to survey my surroundings, looking for whoever was supposed to guide me to my next stop.
Here I was in San Francisco, a week after the mystery man had first messaged me. I feel a bit silly calling him mystery man, but that’s what his username had been and he made no effort to introduce himself when explaining the details later. I had been booked on a flight which landed at 7pm at SFO, been told that I needed to bring nothing other than a form of identification and my phone if I so desired. Then from the hotel I would take the Bart and get off at a station where someone would meet me and walk me to where the hotel the penthouse was located at. Mystery man was living up to his title.
I grinned as I remembered how I had tartly typed out the question of whether I should be wearing any clothes or not, or should I truly bring nothing. Of course punctuated with emojis. I loved to tease and mystery man had really just made it too easy. His response had been fun.
“You may dress comfortably for your flight. At arrivals someone will be waiting to drive you to your hotel where you can leave any personal items you bring with you. Clothes and beauty items suiting the event will be provided for you to wear and keep. If you have anything you would like to wear specifically, feel free to voice that request now.”
So proper and polite, always straight to the point. I could just imagine our mystery man sitting in an office somewhere, typing away intently, lining all the details to a sex event nicely while wholly ignoring my blatantly sexual flirting. A man like that, you just knew he always had to be in control. And a girl like me, well you just know I love making people lose control. Which was probably why I had..ahem..used the method I did to describe what clothing items I wanted to request.
Shaking my head, I smiled again and ran my hands down the length of my trench coat, smoothing it over my bare legs. I wasn’t naked underneath, no. In fact my attire was probably more indecent than just a plain old birthday suit. I was wearing a surprisingly sturdy fishnet bodysuit, that was cut high to showcase my slim stomach and thighs but still tight enough to provide support to my breasts which swayed with each step of my four-inch glossy black stilettos. And of course accessories! Silver nipple clamps connected with a delicate chain with a section of chain running down to attach to my belly piercing to form a Y. Steel armbands tightly encasing my biceps, and a floofy black garter on my left leg. My lips were a deep red, my lashes coated in water resistant mascara, and my eyelids a smokey brown. I looked hot, no scratch that -- I looked utterly fuckable.
In requesting the clothing I had a lot of fun….
I had dressed up in a get up very similar, down to the last detail, and posed for the camera in a variety of ways. Pressed up against a wall with my arms stretched above me. On all fours with my ass facing the camera, quarter sized holes in the netting perfectly showcasing my holes, and looking over my shoulder while I bit my lip. Legs spread over either arm of a chair and my hands in my hair, eyes closed and my head thrown back. On my knees but sitting back on my bum, sucking two fingers into my mouth as I looked directly into the camera. Oooh I had fun with my little photoshoot and I had certainly taken my time, to the point that mystery man had messaged me asking if I was still there. Little did he know….
I told him, “Sorry, stepped away for a second. Wanted to get pictures of what I want to request, and it’s pretty specific. Hope that’s okay?”
Within seconds he responded with a “Yes that is fine. Send the pictures here, and I will do my best to get all the items.” Hook, line, and sinker! I then grinned shakily as I uploaded my pictures to my laptop, and started sending pose after pose to him. Each picture steamier than the last, but I gave him no time to respond in between them. And hell yea I was turned on. Fun clothes and a camera always did that to me.
But the minutes stretched out and mystery man didn’t respond, and I started to doubt myself. Had I gone too far? And then finally he messaged back.
“I appreciate you going above and beyond for your request. All items will be waiting for you in your room. But I am going to have to ask you to send in your measurements for the following:”
And then he sent a detailed list of everything from bust size to bicep width and the length from my waist to crotch. Well not necessarily the response I was expecting...maybe he was gay? Or asexual? Well that didn’t make much sense for a guy running a pleasure penthouse. The asexual part I mean. Guess he just wasn’t into me.
Glum, I got up to dig out my measuring tape from my laundry room. When I returned to my room, to my surprise there was a message notification waiting for me. Was he already getting impatient?
I clicked open our chat and read, “Feel free to continue being creative with your measurements.” Smiling, I quickly shed my thin attire, unwound the measuring tape, and positioned myself in front of the camera again. Maybe he wasn’t completely immune to me after all.
Before I could take the first measurement, my computer pinged that someone had PMed me. I turned to see a new message in the chat box I still had open.
“Don’t take so long this time.”
Unable to resist, I typed out, “If you’re so impatient why don’t you come and measure me yourself?”
His response was instantaneous. “I can think of other uses for a ruler when I see you next week.” My body hummed. He was going to be at the event? And other uses for a ruler...my arousal came rushing back, leaving me tingling and a little breathless. All of a sudden I was even more eager for Friday to roll around.
The sound of the next Bart train screeching into the station pulled me out of my memories. A quick glance at the scrolling text on the platform screens showed that it was the 9:13 train. The event was supposed to start at 10pm, and I still had no idea which hotel I was supposed to go to. I had been waiting here for ten minutes, and the schmuck that was supposed to be my guide was starting to look like a no-show.
I crossed my arms and tapped one foot, thinking about my situation. I knew the way back to my hotel, and the key card was in the pocket of my trench coat. I could get back on another train going in the opposite direction. No, that’s not what I wanted though. I dropped my arms in frustration and looked around as a few individuals trickled out of the still train behind me. Maybe he was late?
Or...maybe he was already here, and didn’t know what I looked like. I slowly looked around the station. There were some people at the ticket machine, others in front of the map of the Bart system. A few moving slowly in and out of the exits and stairwells to the street above. And some waiting for the next train to come in. But no one waiting for a someone.
Or so I thought. I honestly missed him in my first and second pass of the people around me. It was only the flickering of the shadows from the departing train that caught my attention. There, at the end of the platform next to one of the brick columns was a man standing with a briefcase in hand. Not a strange thing on its own, considering that others were also standing still, presumably waiting for the next train. But unlike the others, this man wasn’t leaning against the column tired after a long day. He wasn’t staring at his phone or the dark tunnel in anticipation of the next train. His body was half turned towards the platform but his face was angled toward me. At this distance and with the lack of light, I couldn’t make out his exact expression but I knew he was looking at me.
The second I realized that this man was the schmuck I was waiting for was the second he started moving toward me. He was wearing a well cut suit that framed his body, and his long legs were steadily decreasing the distance between us. But he wasn’t in a hurry. So I made no move to go towards him. As he got closer to me I realized that he was the guy from earlier, the one who had been looking at my legs and the one I blew a kiss to. The same shadow of some sort of expression was on his face — not quite amusement, not wholly serious, but something in between and far more intense. I continued checking him out as he grew to a close and stopped next to me. With a briefcase in one hand and an expensive watch on the other, he looked every bit of the business man he probably was. Tall, dark, handsome, and used to being in charge. And suddenly I knew who he was.