Two packages arrived for me today. One is a large but thin box, black with no markings. The other is smaller, about the size of a paperback. I lift the larger one to the table; despite its size it weighs almost nothing. 

Removing the lid, I carefully open the cocoon of black tissue paper it contains, to find a dress, the couture obvious. The black fabric seems to flow. I can tell instantly how sensual it will feel on my body. 

Not wanting to wait another moment, I run upstairs to try it on. Just lifting my arms allows it to flow down me and fall into place around my body. As I turn, I watch in the mirror as the fabric moves with me, a sense of playfulness in its flow. It needs a necklace to complete it and I know instantly what must be in the smaller box. There’s a card there written in a beautiful calligraphic hand.

Lynne - Forgive me for being a fool and spilling my coffee all over your lovely outfit this past Tuesday.

                       - Dimitri.

Tuesday was definitely a story for another day; his coffee had been hot and scalded my cleavage a bit but nothing lasting. The white blouse I had on was another story; its delicate material had been ruined by the dark brown liquid that had soaked in.

The thin clamshell case opens to reveal a collar of pearls nestled in its velvet interior. It looks small, too small as of it will strangle me. But I find as I press it around my neck, although snug, it fits perfectly. The opposite of the flowing gown and as I look in the mirror I see the combination is stunning.

It makes me think of Audrey Hepburn.

I put my hair up with one hand to see if I like it. Yes, that is how I will wear my hair on our date. Tumbling to the side I take a selfie and send it to my friend Nicolette for her thoughts. I should also send him one I think.

I say, “Thank you for the amazing gifts can’t wait for our date tomorrow night. “

His response almost immediately is “Wow! Me neither, you will definitely be the hit at the Christmas Gala!”

As I ponder my reflection in the mirror I wonder what sort of man would send a woman he just met a sexy dress in the perfect size, with a necklace to match? He seems thoughtful and caring with a sexual eye when it comes to the cut of clothing he has chosen for me to wear. Would he also have expectations for what he finds under this dress should he make it that far? I had to take off my bra when I put it on because of it being backless; and the smoothness of the silk tickles across my breasts. Even now as I stare at my reflection it evokes thoughts of sex, of seduction and power. I want him to take me and I hardly even know him. My mind racing, I think of his hands lightly brushing upon the bare skin of my back as we dance, his powerful frame pushed tightly against mine, our bodies swaying together.

Back to the present, I think again of what panties I should pair with this dress. I have a black lacy pair, they are see-through in the front and might fit the outfit, I pull off my current cotton pair and slide them on, feeling the coolness against the heat building between my thighs. As I bring the dress up with both hands to get a glimpse, I drag my fingers across them, smooth and silky with the bump of my labia in the midst of that. I draw my finger tips across them again and feel my eyes roll back in pleasure as my mouth comes open. My pulse and heartbeat quicken, my mind suddenly being overcome by desire, I know what I will do.

Moving the mirror slightly makes it so I can climb on the bed and still watch. Facing away from the mirror I turn back to see the gentle curve of my tan ass displayed, the small piece of dark fabric seen nestled between them, the dress pulled up so I can see it all.

My fingers find their way again to slide across my panties and lips. My breath catches in my throat as my desire builds. I want to be taken by him this way, I imagine feeling him thrust in me. My fingers again trace lines down my sex and reach through to be seen in the mirror. I push one inside the cool fabric, gathering the moisture beginning to build. I pull my panties to the side so my lips pop out, and they are engorged and tender, quite ticklish to my touch. I slide my pink fingernail across my opening and quiver in excitement. As I explore my slit and press harder into it, my thoughts return to him and what seems like moments later, as I watch in the mirror, I am juddering and shaking as I call out his name in desire…

The next night we are in the heart of the city, attending his companies Christmas Gala. I am utterly seduced from the moment he had me collected by his car, to entering the glittering ballroom, and the tantalizing conversation during dinner. The people around me are important to his career and life no doubt, but he cares not for their company and conversation. He greets them all quickly and returns his attention to me time and again. I have not experienced this level of focus from a man before and it captures me. I find I want to give more of myself because of it.

He looks at me appreciatively, “Has anyone told you you’re the most beautiful woman in the room?”

“Several people actually.” I am wearing the backless black dress he sent me after all, thigh length, cut loose behind so that it moves when I do, “Though not in so many words,” I add.

He laughs, “Come over here.”

Taking my arm he leads me behind a low wall, lights glittering along its length. He puts his champagne glass on it, and then runs his hand down my hip. “You’re wearing panties,” he observes.

“Yes”

“I think you should take them off. They spoil the line.” He says strongly. As he watches me glance nervously around the room he adds, “Don’t worry no one will see.”

For a moment I freeze, then as I scan the room again, I note no one is looking in our direction and I want to please him. As unobtrusively as I can, I slip out of my panties. As they slide to the floor, I step out lifting one dainty stiletto at a time, I bend to pick up the black silky pile on the floor and he stops me with a hand on my arm.

“Wait,” he says, again with a low but strong voice. His right hand lifts the hem of my dress, “No one will see,” he repeats.

The hand slides up my thigh, and then reaches between my legs. I’m shocked, “I don’t think….”

“Don’t move,” he says softly commanding me his fingers slide back and forth, barely making contact; merely gliding across my flesh that is now filling with blood and with heat.

My breath catches and I go to say, “Stop” but can’t form the word, my mind failing me, as instead it fills of thoughts of him. His strong arms lifting me on the dance floor, pressing me into him, the feeling of domination clear. So instead I bite my lower lip and lean into him, letting him take my weight since my knees are failing me. 

As my mind leads me through the fantasy I have playing, it is just moments later that I feel my juices flowing down my thighs and squirting into his powerful hand.

“Let me take you back to your place,” he says softly in my ear.

My eyes still glazed from the pleasure, I barely register that he leans me against the wall, into the tinsel and glitter that is there, and bends to pick up my now unnecessary panties stuffing them into his pocket. As I manage a nod, he lifts me lightly and directs me through the crowd and out to his car, that somehow knows to be waiting and ready for us.

My head lulls from side to side with each turn, my state of pleasure complete, as I allow my eyes to look his way, I see a small grin pasted there as he watches me in obvious delight.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, suddenly a bit more alert.

“Oh, nothing good, not anything a lady of your beauty would want to hear.” Dimitri responds his grin widening.

“Mostly,” he continues, “I am thinking about what I intend to do with you tonight.”

With that he gathers my hand in his and brings it to his lips to lay a light kiss on the knuckle of my pointer finger. His lips follow the path up my arm and shoulder, finding my neck and finally my lips. The feeling of his full lips on me leaves me drunk with desire.

“We are here,” he announces as he notes the car pulling into my drive.

After helping me out he dismisses the driver, informing him he will not be needed for the rest of the night. 

I almost argue, saying ‘I am not that kind of girl’, but I know it is a waste and would be a lie. I am that kind of girl tonight, I will do whatever he asks, and willingly.

He takes my wrist and leads me to the door, I fumble with my keys. I am too wound up to get the key to slide in, my hand shaking slightly. I feel his reassuring presence slide up from my wrist and push firmly, the locks resistance crumbling and the key sliding in one tooth at a time, until firmly set in the lock. His hand turning mine as the deadbolt slides back withdrawing from the jam, to house again in the door.

Spinning me in the doorway he pulls me in and kisses me deeply, one hand still on my wrist, the other pressed firmly into my lower back. My keys and clutch fall to the floor with a clatter, at once forgotten. He pushes me backwards through the door not breaking the kiss; his hand only leaving my arm to push the door closed. Taking my wrist again he pushes me further in to the house, past the kitchen counter to where the rectangular dining table sets. In the middle of it is my tree, twinkling away, blissfully unaware of what is about to happen under it.

I feel my buttocks press against the thick wood table top. With a sudden spin I am facing the table, his hand now on my shoulder near the junction with my neck. I am pressed forward, bent slowly over the table, forcefully but not painfully my cheek is pressed into its cool surface. I feel his other hand lift my dress and the cool air dances across my bare ass. I hear his zipper being ripped down and a flutter as his pants fall. 

He presses against me, finding my heat and moisture he presses harder.

I feel him slide in a bit; he is thick and fills me, stretching me.

My mouth comes open as I feel him slide in deeper.

He is holding my neck and hair now as he takes me. I welcome him in without words, my eye he can see begging him to fuck me.

He does just that, my does he ever. 

The power in his thrusts increasing, the pressure on my neck growing, my thighs are being pressed into the table and will be bruised tomorrow. Despite this I don’t seem to care, I want him to use me, to fuck me until he cums. 

I feel this a moment later as he presses against me harder burying himself fully in me. He cries out and jets his load in, pulsing even deeper. For the second time that night I succumb to pleasure and in time with him I release my own cum to coat us both in its stickiness.

His grip on my neck slowly releases and I drink air heavily, fully satiated I may sleep right here under the tree…