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Title : Templo De Talaria Sitting in the moving taxi she fingered the well-worn business card out of nervousness. The inside of the cab was too dark to read by, but she knew the words by heart anyway. Templo De Talaria When she had mentioned to a long time confidant that she was off to New York for three days to a conference, he had smiled and dug into his wallet, handing her the card. All he would tell her was that it was an interesting place to dine and he thought she'd enjoy the experience and then gave her his most lecherous smile. If she didn't like and trust him so well. She would have flipped the
card right back. Their relationship was strictly a strategic work partnership. Both were respected managers of non competing divisions, a cordial alliance of mutual benefit. He was 10 years her senior in age and understood her unspoken motive to cultivate the friendship. She had made it clear to him, however, she was not interested in a sexual relationship. She was divorced, and after that messy business, had devoted herself to her son and her career. She definitely did not wish to get involved with a co-worker. She had heard he had lost his wife in an accident, years before, and was warned that he had a reputation as a bit of a flirt. Still, as long as he stayed professional that didn't concern her. Friendship was as far as their relationship would ever go. They had both agreed on that. Well actually, she had laid down the rules and he had smiled, agreeding to abide by them. Not that her rules stopped him from noticing and complementing her, each and every time she sported a new dress, or had her hair done or wore new shoes. Not that they stopped him from giving her a small thoughtful gift, every now and then, for no apparent reason. And especially, nothing ever stopped his face from lighting up each and every time he saw her. During seven years of friendship, he had kept his hands to himself but his discrete courting of her remained constant, comradely, and covert. Their relationship evolved into long intimate lunches where they mutually poured out their hearts to each other. Followed by longer droughts, of him not being around at all. When she had asked him, where he had been? He had told her frankly. He was staying well away from her to try and keep his mind from constantly, fantasizing about her. She was puzzled, flattered and stirred, both emotionally and sexually,
in spite of her resolve. She asked him once what he liked about her, that way, and he told her straight out. Her regal air, assertive personality and killer legs were a major turnon for him. She was stunned! Well, she knew about the legs, they were her best asset. Often, she wore daringly short skirts to work. She liked getting looks from all the guys. It was coy, harmless flirting, but not so around him. He never failed to look and darn well made sure she knew, he was looking. She felt he could see straight though her clothes. It embarrassed her and thrilled her at the same time, but she couldn't understand how he equated , regal and assertive with being sexy? One day for lunch, she met him wearing a short skirt combined with new
pair of sandals. He would gladly be her slave, for life. She was stunned, but his words had heated her as well. She never mentioned the message, nor did he. So here she was heading off to a restaurant he had recommended. She was a touch nervous but much too curious, not to. Stepping out of the cab, the restaurant had an Italian look about it. The menu, displayed under glass, was comprehensive but fairly normal. Only unusual in that it made it clear, No drop in Diners allowed. Reservations Only. The uniformed doorman nodded politely as he opened the door. The desk clerk confirmed her reservation, asking if she preferred an lower or upper deck. At her puzzled look the girl glanced at her and advised upper. Then ushered her into a little side room with the comment that Ma'am, may wish to freshen up and left her. The room was an exquisitely decorated powder room. It featured the normal appliances but there was also a cute little footbath in front of a rack labeled "for our guests." The rack contained open toed evening slippers of all sizes and colors. Each pair individually wrapped in cellophane. A sign explained all . . . No shoes, No socks, No hose OR No Service. Taking her time, she finally settled on a pair of slippers she liked. The style she chose had a one and one half inch heel and matched her summer dress perfectly. She wondered if she would have to give them back, she hoped not. The slippers did not look cheaply made. They not Italian leather, but they were not dime store quality, either. They also felt heavenly and she twirled, posing on a toe, as she admired herself in the mirror. She thought she looked really sexy in them and that made her feel sexy. As she exited from the powder room, the clerk discretely took her coat and shoes, handing her a check tag. A waiter stood by and offered his arm, taking it, she was escorted into the restaurant's interior. Thinking to herself, Wow! She hadn't had royal treatment like this
since her highschool prom! The waiter pulled aside curtains for her and she stepped ahead of him. The dark interior of the room had a smokey tint without smelling of stale cigarettes. Soft spotlights played over small tables set in the room's center. No couples sat together rather, men and women, shadowed forms, sat sipping on drinks. She paused, allowing her eyes to accustom to the light. Other eyes turned toward her, music started, Enrique Iglesias's . . . Bailamos. As the waiter escorted her across the room, she found her step quickening, her hips moving, swaying, as her body matched the sensuous latin beat. "Tonight we dance, I leave my life in your hands, We'll take the floor, nothing is forbidden anymore . . ." My God!, she thought, "I'm strutting" and unconsciously, she was too! The spot lights had homed in on her as she walked, not on her face, instead concentrating, lighting up her form, playing over her thighs, legs, body. She felt like a stripper on stage, her heart racing, her legs so weak she could barely stand. Up a small stair, she was gently shown into an intimate dining booth over looking the main floor. The escort handed her a menu and asked her drink preference. She didn't say no, she ordered a double rum and coke. After that unintended display . . . She needed one. The thrill of all those eyes watching her and the music kept pounding in her head. The DJ switched to Cry Baby . . . She wanted to, she was so embarrassed and so excited. She was wet! Her drink arrived and as she sat sipping it as she slowly regained her poise. Her booth and all the others were secluded, she could see no other diners, except those sitting below her. The booths at this level were set above the lower tables in a semi circle and she could just dimly see the occupants beneath her as the spot lights played over them, the beams never pausing, just flitting from table to table. The music stopped as entrance curtain opened. A tall raven haired beauty, stepped into the homing spotlights and actually posed. Santana's. "Black Magic Woman" started playing. No new comer to this place . . . Not this confident queenly woman. Oh
no, a regular . . . The music switched to TLC - Red Light Special, as she softly sashayed across the room and up the stairs into another upper booth, very close by. Shaking her head at the lady's performance, at the explicit words of the music and at the whole scene. She tried to make sense of it all. This obviously was a make out bar, but nothing like back home. She was used to guys hitting on her in crowded smelly bars. Here, she could see plenty of good-looking guys down below, but just barely, and what the heck was this on the table, some kind of keypad made up of lit numbered buttons . . . Most were lit up. Her waiter asked if she wished to order now or just relax for a while. He was the same one who had escorted her to the table. She wanted to ask him about the keypad but didn't want to appear too naive and was too shy to ask. So said nothing, just ordered another double. She didn't have to ask. The waiter pointed out a button marked, service and advised her to press it when she wished to place her order. She wasn't even too sure if she even wanted to stay. Still . . . she thought it'd be fun to sit and watch the action for a while. So she sipped her drink and just watched and was soon rewarded. One of the lights on the keypad went out and at the same time. She watched a form get up from a table and move across the room and disappear, seemingly into the wall next to where she was sitting. No! , Not disappear. The person had slid aside a curtain and entered a small room underneath one of the booths The heck he had? She peeked under the table and could just make out a little open space with a seat just below her feet! "Good God" she thought. "Surely they don't expect me to! To what?" She sat and mused , on the what of what, pressed the service button and ordered her third double. The DJ was playing MMM MMM MMM MMM by the Crash Test Dummies. She looked at the lit buttons, her heart poised in her mouth. "My God" she thought, "they do!" The tables were in a diamond pattern, the buttons on the keypad in a matching pattern. The spot light continued to play over men and women's forms. The song's MMM droned on. She was panting, breathless, dripping. Should she, dare she, would she, could she? She could and did. Taking a gulp of the almost raw liquor she summoned up her courage and hit a lit button. Immediately the light went out and she could see a form rise from a table. The music switched to Angels Would Fall. Melissa told the world of sin while she committed one. She felt a touch of breeze beneath her as the curtain briefly opened. She wondered what he looked like, what he would do. What could he do? Gripping her drink firmly in both hands. She waited. Froze, as warm lips touched lightly on the top of her right foot then the left. Shivered, as a hot wet tongue, sliddered, between her toes. Swooned, as gentle hands removed her slippers, stroked, caressed her. Wiggled, as her toes were sucked into a hot mouth , a tongue bathed her feet, played between each tiny digit. Wondered, as she was worshiped like a goddess by this stranger this wonderful sexy stranger and as a fingernail lightly scrapped over her foot realized. OH God, a women! It was a women down there!? She drew her feet away, shocked not scarred just not sure how she felt
about all this, and the soft lips, sought her out and found her again.
Little pecks rained on her toes and again she drew away but once again,
they were found caressed and worshiped. The little game continuing until
she was smiling, feeling wicked, feeling playful. She allowed her foot to
be kissed then gently batted the woman's face away. It returned and she
playfully batted it again and still the woman accepted the humiliation and
resumed her attentive devotion. Her hand slid down between her thighs. She was hot, so hot , she
touched herself, she had to, it felt, so fucking good and she was so
horny, so fucking close. She barely made out the whispered words as a hand slid up her leg, her thigh ,pushed her skirt back, groping then gripping her panty band . . . "Permisso?" Giving silent approval, she raised her hips and allowed, her panties to
be pulled from her thighs. Allowed herself to be stripped, exposed, naked,
for this stranger, this unknown women. Lifted her ankles, as her damp
panties were dragged down and off her feet. To an unknown other's, touch. She felt the woman's hair tickle her legs as lips nibbled , tentatively lapped at her, in her. Hot warmth of another's breath increasing her own warmth. All the while, she kept hearing, "permissio? permisso?" OH GOD YES! Permissio anything, fucking anything , just do it, DO IT, DO IT! She reached down, seeking, found hair, gripped and dragged the woman's head firmly between her legs into place, her space, her opening . . . Forced the lips she wanted to her slit, her source, her box. Forced the licking machine, to lick, demanded it lick, HER! . Holding, gripping the women's hair with both hands now, she controlled, used, moved the women's lips and tongue over her folds, to exactly where she wanted the most attention No worshiping now, no softness, she wanted action, demanded fast action "Lick, there, yes that's it! Right there, common you little bitch, faster, lick me!" And she spasmed . . .and again, again, and again . . . She enjoyed it for a while then pushed the head down away and off her. Lips moved to her feet but she used her foot and weakly kicked, nudged the face away. . Her slippers were placed back unto her feet and with one last lingering kiss, she felt a cool breeze as the curtain was opened and she was once again alone. She barely heard the parting, whispered "gracias senora,
gracias" After waiting for what she considered a respectable, space of time, she pressed the button for thewaiter and asked for the check. He advised her that her "Guest" had taken care of her bill and offered his arm. As they walked back across the floor, the spot lights once again found her, and the DJ played You Sexy Thing by Hot Chocolate. She stopped in the limelight and deliberately adjusted a slipper that needed no adjustment andsmiled as someone knocked their drink to the floor. Then head high; She sashayed out of the room. As she climbed into the waiting cab, she fingered the business card and thought of herfriend back home. That smug, wonderful bastard's little joke, had lit fire in her, that
until now she hadn't known She damn well knew, how she was going to make him, put that fire out. She tapped her little foot in pleasure, just thinking on that! As the cab sped away into the night. Copywrite: SafeWord : All rights reserved. Enrique Iglesias's - Bailamos |