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Mood Ring Chpt.2 (revised)
I triggered my remote and my little red Tiburon happily beeped and flashed its blinkers at me as if winking at me and wishing me luck.
I turned to my escort and said, “Ready now. I just wanted to be sure my car would be here when I came back for it.”
The tall blonde woman wove her arm into mine, smiled at me, and guided me to the far end of the Mexican restaurant’s parking lot. I had drunk a little more than I had intended to that evening and it was nice to have someone stable to hold on to.
Next to a huge mud covered pick-up truck was the most beautiful sports car I have seen. I liked sports cars. I liked my little car, but this was obviously something most people couldn’t afford. I certainly couldn’t even think about it with my nurse’s salary. It was totally drool-worthy. I looked down the row and saw the Mercedes that I expected Dr. Beauchamp to drive.
“I didn’t know you drove a truck.” I casually remarked to see how she would react.
She threw her head back and barked out a quick laugh. “Actually I do have a truck, but it isn’t nearly as big as that one. I don’t have to buy an automobile to compensate for my lack of a penis. Besides, why do you think I would let my vehicle stay so dirty?” She playfully swatted my arm. “I take great care of things that have value to me!”
Her French accent even made “penis” sound delightful and I was enchanted by the sound of her voice.
We stopped in front of the pretty sports car and she said, “Hold on a second while I get my remote.” She disengaged her arm from mine and started to root around in her purse
I took the opportunity to take a closer look at the sleek looking sex machine in front of us. The owner had backed into the spot and I could see a trident mounted on the grill. Maserati! I had never seen one up close. It was the color of the night and drank in the parking lot lights.
I said, “Wow, this is sex on four wheels. I bet the owner gets a lot of action because this is a pussy magnet for sure. Its owner already has me hot and bothered!” I looked over at Anya to see her looking at me quizzically.
OH GOD! Did I really just say that? Why did it sound so clever in my head, but so stupid out-loud?
She quirked her head and said, “I am not familiar with that expression but I guess it is self-explanatory.” (I wanted to die for the umpteenth time that night.)
“Sorry, I guess my tongue is loose because of the alcohol.” She chuckled as she withdrew her hand from her purse and triggered the remote. I was halfway on a turn to walk to the Mercedes when I heard the car beside us chirp twice and flash the fourways as the bi-xenon looking headlights warmed up.
“This is your car? I get to ride in it? Goody!” My excitement was palpable and she smiled warmly at me.
“It was my ex-husband’s and you are right, it is a ‘pussy magnet.’ One of the many reasons I divorced him was his inability to keep his penis in his pants. I am sure he replaced it with a more expensive vehicle, but this was one of his favorite seduction tools and I decided to deprive him of it.
But that is all in the past and although I no longer love him, I love this car!”
I couldn’t read her tone, but it didn’t sound bitter. I didn’t know what to say so I just kept quiet.
She placed a hand at the small of my back and guided me to the passenger door and opened it for me. I got in and was immediately caressed by the leather seats. The cool leather was firm and smooth next to my skin. It felt like snuggling into new clean bed-sheets with freshly shaven legs after taking a long hot bath. I looked at the dash and read “Granturismo MC.”
Anya opened her door and settled into her seat. She put the key in the ignition and the car started with a purr. She looked over at me and placed her hand lightly on my arm asking as the interior light faded, “It is still early. Have you eaten anything? Because, I am starving. But I can take you home if you are feeling tired.”
“I am famished!” I said.
“Good, I have a place in mind that I think you will like. We meet the dress code. Let me see if they have an available table.” She gently squeezed my arm before letting go. She put on her seatbelt, grabbed her phone and I heard her dialing.
I resumed my inspection of the car’s interior. I looked at the window post and reached a finger to stroke it. My finger left a pattern on the rough material. Wow, even the car post was detailed in suede. This car was a sensual delight. I idly wondered how many panties this car had helped to remove. Not a list I would be joining ha-ha. (In one of my decidedly less than wise moves of the evening, I had elected to not wear any underwear because I didn’t want any panty-lines to show.)
“Hello, Ivan? Yes it is Anya. Do you have a table available? You do? Super!” Then she started to talk in Russian. How many languages did she know?
“OK Lynne. It is arranged. You are in for demetevler escort a treat. Ready?”
I nodded and she revved the engine which responded with a throaty roar. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and said, “Put your seatbelt on ma Cherie.”
I giggled and as soon as I clicked in, she pulled smoothly out from the parking space and we drove off.
She said, “Before René allowed me to drive his car, I had to take the driving course. It was a really fun experience and I fell in love with this car at that moment. You truly find out about yourself when you are in motion.”
She then told me about driving around Italy and la dolce vita. How she loved the old villas and bucolic pastureland. It sounded so nice and I relaxed as she chattered on giving me a sense of her love for life.
I looked down at my ring and saw that it had turned a tranquil blue green. (I was wearing my childhood mood ring jewelry set that I had had remounted so I could wear it as an adult. There are parts of you that you should never let grow up.)
I was relaxed and I thought to myself that the combination of the car ride, the company and the alcohol was giving me something that I had long needed but had proven elusive for at least the last three years. I had thrown myself into work and socially isolated myself from all but my family. I had been truly wound-up tightly and stressed out. Geez, I had even been too busy to take care of my sexual needs and tried to think back to the last time I had masturbated and came up blank. No wonder my body was going haywire at the slightest sensation. This evening was just what the doctor ordered.
With that thought, I just started to giggle and realized that Anya had stopped talking and was again looking at me with a perplexed, almost worried look.
I tried to cover my mouth with my hand and it only made me giggle harder.
When I had run the course, I looked over at her and said, “Sorry, but I have been so stressed for so long I guess my body just needed release. I had a thought which was an embarrassingly bad pun and that was that.
I know you must think I am a silly girl.”
She reached over and patted my knee and said, “I know how hard you have been working. I am proud of you. The body craves balance and if you have been too serious for too long, it will seek a correction. You are not a silly girl. A silly woman maybe, but you are no girl!” And she stuck her tongue out at me.
We pulled up to the Crowne Plaza Hotel and I remarked, “Awesome, I haven’t been to Ruth’s Chris yet. This will be fun.”
She pulled up to the valet station and we both got out after the valets opened the doors for us. I hesitated because I belatedly realized that I wasn’t wearing any panties. (This maneuver seemed a little more conscious than when I had exited my car sober earlier in the evening. Then I hadn’t had to think about what I was doing. Normally my modesty was instinctive. Now, I am afraid my inner slut was in charge and she didn’t care so much for modesty or virtue.)
As soon as the door opened, I pivoted on my seat, keeping my knees together and proffered my hand to the attendant. He took it and assisted me to stand. (I am 99 percent sure nobody saw anything and I was quite proud of myself.)
She handed her key to the valet and joined me again linking her arm in mine as we entered the hotel. She told me, “We aren’t eating here; we are just meeting our escorts. I like the steakhouse here, but I have something a little more exclusive in mind. You will absolutely love the food and I hope the atmosphere.”
We walked to the lounge and stopped once we passed through the doors. Anya was searching the room when she evidently found what she was looking for.
“There we go, follow me.”
We walked over to the bar and she got the attention of the barkeeper.
“Two whiskeys; three fingers and neat please.”
I looked at her. What was she doing, I was already two sheets to the proverbial wind. What was she thinking?
She regarded me and realized that I was a little bit confused by her behavior and said, “No dear, you do not have to drink the whiskey. But our dates will be looking for the blonde and redhead holding whiskey glasses. Very cloak and dagger, non? It is all for fun.” And she winked at me.
I had heard her say escorts earlier, but now she called them dates. I was intrigued. Surely she didn’t mean male prostitutes! I mean I was still drunk and a little worked up, but my giggle fit and the relaxation of the car ride has eased some of the evening’s sexual tension from my body. But I don’t think I could go through with having sex with a professional.
I guess morality is different for the super-rich, but who am I to judge. I did have a one-night stand with a cowboy named Jess and all he had to do was buy me some drinks. Did the fact that no money directly passed hands make a difference? I was otele gelen escort a little surprised that she would run the risk of compromising her reputation with me as a witness though. I decided that I would just wait and see where this went.
We had been sitting there for about 10 minutes, just chatting. You know girl-talk about work, fashion, and life in our city when two absolute stunners walked through the door. I think I stopped talking in midstream because Anya reached over and gently closed my gaping mouth with her fingertips on the underside of my chin saying, “Don’t drool on yourself.” Her tone sounded a little jealous and I looked over at her.
She smiled and said, “I think they are for whom we have been waiting.” We both stand over six feet tall in heels and must have stood out because the guys headed straight for us.
The two men were dressed in dark tailored suits. (A well-tailored suit on a well-proportioned guy is like man-lingerie to girls.) One was a blond and the other had jet black hair. We made our introductions and the blond appropriated Anya while the raven-haired gentleman neatly singled me with his attention. He ordered a whiskey to match mine and we made small-talk. He was polite, intelligent, and charming. He had a chin that could cut glass and a rich deep voice that had me hanging onto every word. His attention to me made me feel like I was the only woman in the room that mattered. I was rethinking my reluctance about the professional aspect and it wouldn’t take much for me to ditch my principles if he so much as crooked a finger.
“Ready to go?” Anya appeared at my elbow out of nowhere.
What? I looked down and realized that I had finished off my whiskey. (I was flushed from the attention, the alcohol, and my sexual repression. I’ll just put it all out there.)
I hope I wasn’t acting like a foolish schoolgirl out on her first date.
Robert took my elbow and we made our way to the hotel’s porte-cochere where a limousine was waiting.
“Is that for us?” I whispered to Robert.
He smiled and said “Yes, we travel in style.”
This time I had to stop slow down and consciously think through the steps of sitting down without showing off my goodies. I turned away from the vehicle and sat down on the seat. I pivoted and scooted over so Anya could enter after me. (I am 80 percent sure no one saw anything because I can’t remember if I kept my knees locked together.) I did sit properly during the ride. (I do have class and was brought up well. All joking aside I feel a woman should act the lady at all times when in public. The college days don’t count OK? It is harder when one is drunk, but accidents happen to the best of us and should not be the rule. Look, if I flashed anyone, I didn’t do it on purpose. But like I said my inner slut had the wheel and I didn’t much care about propriety at that point. I thought hopefully Robert caught a glimpse if there was anything to see and realized that it was an accidental flash. In the low odd chance that there was, that was. I also thought that I was properly drunk. I’ll shut up about it now.)
We drove around for… I am not sure really. The whiskey had settled warmly into my stomach and I was enjoying the intelligent conversation we were having about Art and Pretense. I had commented on the fountain in front of the hotel which was an abstract piece and how I really did not like modern art. I was enlightened that it was mostly the statement against convention that made certain pieces ground-breaking and therefore valuable. (I guess it is more akin to performance art than anything else I can relate to.)
Maybe we drove for five minutes, maybe ten; I could not tell where we were going because the limo tint was so dark. When the door opened, I saw that we had pulled up to a brick Victorian looking office-type building in an old industrial part of town that seemed kinda sketchy to me. I took the extended hand and smoothly stepped out of the limo (99 %) we walked up to the metal door and it swung open all spooky like. I began to wonder how when I realized that there were cameras in almost every establishment these days and CC/ TV is not a new invention anyway.
I think I was expecting a coded knock and a peephole sliding open with a gruff voice asking for the catch-phrase of the day; all “cloak and daggery.” Indeed, I was a little disappointed.
The door opened up into a nicely furnished waiting area. I felt like I had taken a step back into the 1800’s. I realized with a little shock that it must have been a bordello or at least had been furnished to imitate one.
“Good-bye boys and thank you for a lovely evening.” I heard Anya dismiss them. I was looking around in curiosity.
Robert came over and took my hand and actually kissed it. “Lynne, it was a pleasure.”
I could have swooned. I don’t remember having been treated with such complete courtesy. I watched him balgat escort pass through an elaborately carved wooden door and he was gone.
“Thanks for being such a good sport Lynne.” She said. “I wanted to surprise you and I just want to thank you for trusting me so far. Shall we dine?”
Trust her? I guess you could say I trusted her with my life. I was a little disappointed to see Robert leave, but let’s put it in perspective. I had a nice time for about an hour. It looked like I was going to be able to spend the evening with Anya and she was no less wonderful. Plus I knew more about her. It was what I didn’t know about her that made the night intriguing.
She walked over to a davenport and picked up an antique looking phone and spoke into it. “Lady Beecham for two, I am here,” and hung up the phone.
The other door in the room swung open and she looked at me with a smile, “Looks like we are ready.”
She took my arm and we walked down a narrow hallway to a wrought iron circular stairway. “After you my dear,” she said and motioned towards the stairway. I looked at the steps and steadied myself against Anya, reached down and took my slingback heels off.
“Don’t want to chance it,” I said because I wasn’t so sure about trying to negotiate a tricky set of stairs with my four inchers and not-so-recent departure from sobriety. My feet felt so good without those heels. They weren’t the tallest set I have worn, but it is not every day that I wear heels so my feet are not used to them.
We ascended the stairway and she kept up close to me in case I lost my balance. I toyed with the idea of stumbling to see if she would catch me, but decided against it. I already had flirted shamelessly with her and I did not want to overdo it.
At the top of the stairway was an opening and I looked around and saw a hallway that terminated in another open doorway. The carpet was luxurious against my stockinged feet and I felt like I was being massaged into a mental state of comfort with every step.
Walking down to it I looked in and saw a cozy little room with rich mahogany wood paneling and heavily threaded tapestries. Amber glass accent lighting gave the room a warm subdued atmosphere and there was a table with two sumptuous chairs. The wood was dark, deeply carved, and gave the feeling of stability. The chairs had rich red velvet fabric panels and the tablecloth itself was an intricate pattern of gold and crimson thread. It looked Indian; rich and sumptuous. The paintings on the carved wooden walls were nothing short of fabulous. I recognized the so-called Pre-Raphaelite style. There was an Odalisque on one wall and a depiction of Hercules with the Lion of Nemea on the other.
I stopped short in the doorway and exclaimed, “Wow: sensory overload!”
Anya smiled and gently pushed me on into the room. “This is our room let’s get comfortable.”
She shut the door and turned to me with a grin. “Is this what you were expecting?” The door shut with a satisfying clunk.
I was dumbfounded. It was so much more than anything I had seen, or dreamt was possible outside of a movie set.
“It is so much more than I could have imagined. This is awesome.”
The room was styled in the 1800’s, but it had many modern amenities as I found out when Anya reached into a drawer of the sideboard and found a remote control device. She chose something and a soundtrack of classical music began to play. It was at just the right volume and non-intrusive and the violins set a wonderful mood.
She glanced at me as I took a seat and asked, “How do you feel, can I order a bottle of wine or have you had too much?”
I replied, “I have had more to drink tonight than I have had in a long time, but I think wine sounds very nice. I want you to know though that I don’t usually drink so much. I had only planned on having two margaritas, but circumstances …”
She said, “I understand, Tonight has taken unpredictable turns for you, but do not worry. I understand and I will take personal charge of your safety. Besides tonight is a celebration!”
I looked into her eyes and said, “Thank you. Some wine would sound divine.” And immediately started to giggle.
She skewed her eyebrows at me.
“Sorry, I am a little giggly. It sounded like ‘candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker’ in my mind and please ignore my silliness.” I fluttered my hand in a dismissive gesture.
Dammit. Why do I have to always sound so stupid when I say something to her?
“No Lynne, I actually value your ability to play. You are not frivolous all of the time and your rich sense of humor brings some needed vitality into everyday situations. I am so hungry, do you mind if I order for us both?”
Not at all, you know better than I what is good here.”
She asked, “Is there anything that you know you just cannot eat or are allergic to?
“Nothing I can think of. I am ready to try anything new.”
She smiled at me at that and then she grabbed a leather folder from the sideboard, perused it for a short few minutes and then picked up an old timey looking mouthpiece and said, “l’edizione speciale.” Or was it “la selezione seduzione.” I do not speak Italian and it sounded similar enough I could not tell a difference. And then “E un vino di corrispondenza. Mi rimetto al sommelier.”
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