It happened in a dive bar outside of town, just off the highway. I was heading back in after a day trip up north and thought some food might be a good move. I'd been to this place before with friends; a little dirty, a little rough but the food and drinks were always on point. I come in out of the late-summer heat just as the sun dipped below the horizon.
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Standing alone in my room, in front of a full length mirror, I was busy admiring myself standing fully nude except for a pair of black thigh high stockings. I was fresh out of the shower, completely freshly shaven and my dark, shoulder length hair still warm from the hair dryer. My slender body was highlighted by my full C cups. They were perky as ever and my nipples had begun to harden just by standing there in the cool air with my thoughts.
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The crowd in the hotel bar were engaged in friendly chatter. The small tables, each surrounded by horseshoe shaped red leather chairs, were all full as were the ten or so stools at the bar. People talked in couples or groups. Everyone seemed to be relaxed and at ease with their surroundings.
Yanik closed the black leather folder he had in front of him and loosened his tie.
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Sitting in the airport is never much fun, regardless of the reason behind traveling. I'm a seasoned traveler though and even despite all of the new security measures and increasing delays, it seems that I'm at the airport more often now than not. In fact, with my relatively new job, I'm traveling more now than ever. But who's complaining, right? After all, it's putting food on the table. I've never been one to complain too much anyway.
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It was nearly pitch dark in the bar, and an air of excitement was palpable in the quiet murmurs of the crowd. Frantic whispers broke out as the emcee stepped to the microphone and the house lights came up. Now you could see the large screens hanging from the ceiling in strategic spots along the room. Now you could see the pommel horse onstage, the examination table with stirrups, the loops and bars and stocks that permitted a variety of bound positions.
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It was tough getting up so early, but the bar had changed hands again and the new owner wanted to meet everyone this morning. Reets hadn't seen a 9AM in a month of Sundays, but she dragged herself up anyway. Caryn, her lover, said, "Come on, break that law of physics!"
The not-nearly-awake Reets could only reply, "Huh?"
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My heart seems to falter when she walks in the bar. I vaguely hear my friend Samantha, who reluctantly dragged me out tonight, yell at me from a few feet away. I don't make any movement though. I am staring at what, until this moment, was only a dream. My friend finally fights her way over to me, muttering something about me being deaf and all I do is nod forward.
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Trillions is where you go to get laid. It's not a private club, but you do have to look a certain way to get through the door. Well-groomed, is perhaps the most polite way to phrase it. I flatter myself that I do try and take care of my looks. While photographing models I've picked up a few hints and tips, and I'm not too modest to say that I've been mistaken for one of them on occasion. For your benefit, I'm five-seven tall in bare feet, trim figure, 34C bust, with shortish blonde hair. My eyes are clear blue, and I have very full, soft lips, or so I've been told.
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Sharon was beginning to think her friend wasn't going to meet her. She had been sitting at the bar for over an hour, having gotten there more than 30 minutes early. While she was waiting, she had a couple of drinks and had been flirting a little with some of the guys in the bar. Not really flirting so much as striking a pose now and then to make sure they could get a peek of a nipple here and her ass there.
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