Play! Part 1

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Play! Part 1You walk through the airport having just arrived on a pleasantly humid, late spring night. You have no bags to pick up because you were told not to bring anything with you, so you are just walking in what you think is the direction out of the airport, not knowing what else to do. You have defied the man you are meeting, though, because you have a packet of nuts that you got on the plane in the pocket of your coat; you clutch them with defiance. The coat doesn’t quite feel like your coat yet since it is so new and a bit stiff. A plain trench coat. All the way on that plane trip and you might as well have been naked under the coat. It was a little embarrassing as you avoided the gazes of your fellow passengers. They could see your bare chest and your bare legs and you knew they were wondering if you naked underneath. You tried to get on the plane as discreetly as possible, holding the neck of the coat closed. But you could tell by the way the stewardess’ eyes roamed down the front of your coat that she was wondering too. As she left, you were sure you caught her looking down at your crossed legs where the coat had fallen away. Stewardesses in first class are the models of discretion. She brought you your glass of wine and you thought by the way she smiled at you and held your eyes with hers for a second, that there was a little deviousness there. That she knew you were up to something sexy. You looked away from her, worried she would read what was going to happen in your eyes. You looked away even before you realized that you didn’t even know yourself what was going to happen. When you got off the plane, you could hardly look at her when she smiled and said, “Have a great evening.” A güvenilir bahis şirketleri trench coat. A black silk teddy. A pair of high-heeled shoes. And a first class plane ticket. That’s what came for you this afternoon in a box. There was no return address. There was a small note that had been typed on a computer so you couldn’t even see his handwriting; it said, “This is all you need.” He didn’t even put a name down. Paper-clipped to the back of the note was a $50 bill. The man you had chatted with on the computer–he said his name was Michael– had promised a surprise the previous night, so you figured the box was it. You couldn’t believe that you were actually going through with it, though. You barely knew the guy and who knew if anything he told you in the previous three weeks was true? For all you know, he could be some sick pervert, but still you went. As if compelled by something more than curiosity and your desire. As you sat there, toying with the idea of going, running the black teddy through your fingers, you actually felt that you would regret not going. So, you put on the teddy and the high-heeled shoes and the trench coat and looked at yourself in the mirror. The teddy barely got to the top of your thighs. You thought about putting on a black thong, even if just for the trip on the plane, but decided against it. If you were not going to get into the spirit of the evening, you might as well not go at all, you thought. And so out the door you went, welcomed by a pleasant little gust of air that went up the coat all the way up your thigh to the bottom of your stomach. Goose bumps came up on your arms as you locked the door behind you, not sure if it was the gust bets10 of air or the intrigue of it all.You are the first passenger out of baggage claim and you are surprised to see a man there in a tuxedo holding a sign with your name on it. It wasn’t Michael, though, holding the sign. You had watched him enough on his Web cam to know that it wasn’t Michael, despite how he appeared in shadows all the time. You watched him while you chatted with him from 9 p.m. until 11 p.m. exactly, Sunday to Thursday night, hoping to make him smile with a funny joke. A few times you saw him turn and look into the camera and smile, but you were never sure if it was something you said or someone else that he smiled at. He was always lit by a single red light from his right. Every night, at a quarter to eleven, he would move off camera, strip down to his boxer shorts as if getting ready for bed, and come back on cam for the last fifteen minutes. As he sat down, you always tried to get a glimpse of what was in his boxers but never could. He was well-built but not too muscular, and before he sat down, you could always steal a glimpse of his flat, hairless, muscled stomach. He never appeared on camera on the weekends, no matter how much you wanted him to. The driver was good-looking, too, built almost the same as Michael but blonde. He seems to know you as if he had seen one of the pictures you had sent Michael. He doesn’t say a word, just turns and begins walking, with only a glimpse over his shoulder to make sure that you were following.“Where are we going?” you ask, trying to sound jovial. The driver just turns his head slightly and smiles but does not respond otherwise. You are pretty sure it bets10 giriş was a friendly smile and not a threatening smile, but not absolutely sure.You walk out the airport door, outside. The air caresses you with its humidity but feels neither hot nor cold. The driver leads you to the backdoor of a limousine parked near the door. He turns to face you, smiles his good-natured smile, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a two-inch wide dog collar, studded all the way around with a metal loop hanging off a metal triangle in the middle. He stretches the collar out in front of you as if asking permission to put it on you.“Sure,” you say, feeling a tingling in the pit of your stomach, as you lift your hair. He walks behind you and straps the collar around your neck. You get the faint whiff of leather from the collar while you try to see through the tinted window of the limousine, feeling the pressure around your neck, as if the collar is almost choking you. The driver wedges a fingertip under the collar to make sure it isn’t cutting off your air then steps out from behind you just far enough to show you the black, leather blindfold he is going to put on you.“I guess I don’t have a choice, eh?” you say, and he smiles what you take to be his reassuring smile. He runs his fingers up through your hair along your skull and pulls half of your hair up. You take your hair from his hands and he slips the blindfold over your eyes. He ties it firmly in the back of your head and gently pulls the hair from your hand so it falls over the ties. You feel him in front of you again. He pulls at the bottom of the blindfold even though the padded leather has pinned your eyes shut. The driver begins to unbutton your coat and your heart begins to beat faster; you stifle a protest. Your coat falls open. Then, you hear the driver quickly take a step and open the limousine door.“Glad you could make it,” a voice says from inside the limousine. You hope the voice belongs to Michael.

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