Taco Bell! Motel! LOL, I'm in Hell!

The following is an actual email from a prospective client.

Well, I would like us to meet at the taco bell...if you want to go further
then we go to the cheap motel room that is close by....we go in the room and
you drop to your knees and service my cock for awhile or till I blow my load
on you somewhere....and or we go into the room, you get on the bed, spread
those legs and let me at it! lol....either way I leave you with some
funds...
sound like what you thought?
if so when would you be free?
how much funding are you in need of? if we do this semi regularly it would
be nice....
reminder that I am paying for the room and I am not rich...lol
-James

Nice, right?

Gentlemen, please. His previous suggestion was that we meet at "a designated place near the baseball stadium," to which my response was "that sounds like a nice invitation from an axe murderer. I will only agree to meet you at a hotel, but if you'd like to meet at a restaurant for an introductory lunch, that's a possibility."

Apparently, he'd meant the taco bell across from the stadium was the "designated place" and I could look forward to a cheesy gordita experience of the highest caliber before sucking cock in a cheap motel, "lol."

Here is the part when I say to you, dear readers and friends, puhlease.

I understand the turn-on of a seedy motel room for some. I know a married couple who spends the night every Valentine's Day at the cheapest motel out by the airport they can find, because it's fun and also hilarious and it's become a tradition. But as a proposed regular thing? Because some poor schmuck can't actually afford to live his fantasy?

Nope, sorry, "James."
I am not the girl who blows you twice a month in a no-tell.

I am the girl who is looking at an empty bottle of Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin champagne which The CEO brought when we met last Friday. I drank this bottle with him, naked, as we leisurely enjoyed each other's company in stellar accommodations. I taught him about my g-spot, he clued me in on some of his favorite techniques, which I put to use, making him cum three times in as many hours. We compared Blackberry features and he suggested that I join him on an upcoming business trip.

He is fun and hot and knows how to do this right.
And he is also paying for the room.
Because he is rich.
"lol."

Panty Ho

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find true sheer-to-waist pantyhose?

Pantyhose. As in the kind which start at the toes and magically, seamlessly go all the way up past one's belly button.

Last week The CEO suggested that I might wear pantyhose for our date. I liked his explanation of his fascination with stockinged legs: "...it seems like women don't wear hose to the office anymore." Sweet, right?

My poor CEO had spent so many years NOT looking at women's legs for fear of being thought of as lewd and now female employees don't sheath their legs in nylon or silk the way he likes. I could do that. I love to do that. Even if his real reason for loving hose was that he spent his youth watching his mother dress for Bridge Club, waiting until she'd left, trying on her pantyhose and rubbing his feet and legs together. Whatever the reason, I was happy to acquiesce to his request.

My mistake was in assuming that he, like most men I am acquainted with, uses the terms "stockings" and "hose" interchangeably.

I had arrived at the hotel half an hour before him, stripped and changed into my garter belt and silk stockings. We had a great time, despite the business traveler hotel accommodations, and spent two hours naked but for my stockings and garter belt.

As hot as I looked, and as appreciative as he was, when he emailed me last weekend to set our next date, he reiterated: "maybe you could wear actual pantyhose? not that the stockings weren't awesome, because they were, but maybe sheer pantyhose in a lighter color?" He also suggested I dress as if I were going on a job interview.

"Ah," I responded, "so now it comes out. What are you, some kind of perverse degenerate, man? Pantyhose? Pantyhose? Interview? Sheesh. Okay, but I'd better get the job."

Getting dressed was almost ritualistic. I don't wear pantyhose as a general rule because I am short waisted and pantyhose waists always roll down and annoy the hell out of me. If I cover my legs it is usually with garters and stockings or thigh highs. Today, as I pulled the waistband up to my hips and stepped into the crepe skirt I thought about what The CEO had said last week: that my body was perfectly suited for the 1950s. That I'd look great in a clingy off-shoulder gown and pumps. I had to agree, and as I smoothed my palms up my calves and thighs, I was kind of turned on by the pantyhose thing.

I was waiting when he knocked at the door. I closed it and spun to face him, striking a pose and swishing my hips a few times. I had dressed for an interview, in a tailored black skirt, white blouse, nude pantyhose and red slingbacks. The skirt was slightly flared at the hem, hence the swishing of the hips.

He was pleased with my outfit, and I began to see what he found so exciting about ladies in business skirts and hose. I tucked my feet underneath myself on the sofa and unconsciously tugged down on the hem, modestly covering my knees.

Well, that was hot.

We sat and talked while he stroked my legs and my feet made their way to his hardening dick. Since he had a dinner meeting later, I took his pants and shirt and hung them neatly over the chair. My skirt and blouse and shoes got tossed into the chair, but my pantyhose stayed on.

Through a lengthy blowjob, a move onto the bed, a through-the-pantyhose dry hump and a kissing lesson, my legs, stomach and ass were tightly encased in the surprisingly strong nylon. Eventually the hose came off, which gave me a fleeting feeling of vulnerability. I was in bed with this successful, driven businessman, who meets me to escape being powerful and who has a terrific time hanging out and always tells me, then and also in phone calls afterwards.

The vulnerability and uncertainty passed, and The CEO and I ignored the vibrating alerts from my phone.

We showered together, each one rushing off to the next thing, and as I towelled and shook out my hair he said, "It's so awesome that you look perfect just after a shower. No makeup, no hairdryer, just you. Do you have free time on Friday afternoon?"

"Friday, like, three days from now?"

"Yeah, I know it's short notice, but my assistant is out of the office that day."

I grinned and kissed him, "I think I'm seeing you?"

"Awesome."

Man, I totally aced that interview.