I hope you are all still on a holiday high! I know I’m still waiting. Christmas is January 5ththis year. Many of you have asked it the renovations were done in time for Christmas as I was hoping. Come back Monday and I’ll give you a complete run down – pictures included!
But now it’s time to sneak away for a little Fantasy Friday. This story is from 2008. It’s long and involved and delicious! Hopefully you’re still on vacation time. If not, make time to come back and read it sometime. It’s in two parts and I’ll put the second part up tomorrow along with information about the author.
Now turn on your fan and enjoy...
The campaign party was in full swing. “These Johnson folks really know how to have a good time” Marc thought as he surveyed the room. Gearing up for the upcoming primary hundreds of Johnson supporters and staff poured into Richmond the final weekend before the primary. This party was a pep rally/ice breaker for out-of-state Johnson faithful; national and local campaign staff along with the, state-wide government execs who had thrown their support to Johnson’s’ campaign. Drinking, dancing and exchanging war stories, this was the last downtime any of them would see before the election.
Raucous laughter drew Marc’s attention back to his colleagues, Jake, Cole and Bobby. Damn, they were having a good time, the life of the party as usual, making everyone laugh over some joke at the expense of the Baker campaign. Joining in, Marc relaxed; everyone was having a good time, why shouldn’t he? That’s when he noticed them, can’t say he noticed her, he couldn’t see her but over Cole’s shoulder he watched as a pair of strappy black heels made their way along the perimeter of the upper ballroom. Elevated by five feet or so, the upper ballroom landing placed those shoes right in his line of site. Of course he couldn’t quite see the wearer as she moved in and out of the crowd along the railing but he sincerely admired her choice of shoes. With heels at least five inches high, it was the height of the shoes that originally caught his attention. “No one wears heels like that in VA, at least not on a regular basis ‘cept maybe the trannys and those feet don’t belong to a tranny.” He watched as she darted in and out sometimes still, sometimes turning around but always moving. He couldn’t see her face but the glimpses he did catch of her revealed an attractively built, fair-complexioned black woman. “Must be with the campaign” he thought,” No one dresses like that ‘round here either.” Straps wrapped across the arch of her foot, circling her ankles over and over again before being tied at the backs of her ankles. “Very nice,” Marc thought to himself as he watched her approach the end of the railing. “Maybe I can get a look at the complete package” he thought to himself, just before his heart gave a stuttering heave.
Shocked, no he wasn’t shocked, thunder-struck was more like it. Marc couldn’t believe she was here. He was positive he’d never seen the pretty, wide-eyed woman standing at the top of the stairs in the flesh before and was just as sure she’d never seen him either. But he loved her just the same and those brown-eyes had stared at him many a day from his computer screen. Jaye, it had to be. Prettier than her picture, she was just like he’d imagined; shoulder length, swingy hair; curvy flesh; soft skin covered in a long jersey gown. She glowed. The woman of his dreams – they’d connected almost two years ago and she had become his world. Marc felt a seismic shift, he needed to touch her, to hold, just once; and he grimaced, maybe wear out that ass while he was at it. Glancing around he saw more than one fellow noticed the woman on the stairs, even Henry poked up his nose, “Down boy,” Marc mused, “Knowing Miss Jaye, we’re probably walking into a fight.” Knocking back his drink, Marc started moving through the crowd.
Jaye’s eyes swept the ballroom. These folks came to boogie she thought. The party was in full swing and the good times were definitely rolling in Richmond tonight. Drafted by her family she joined her brother, John on his VA campaign junket. A Johnson bigwig he frequently traveled, with his wife and sister’s taking turns serving as his personal gofer, butler and assistant on the road. This time was Jaye’s turn. No problem, with their full schedule and the primaries in four days. They’d be on their way back to Chicago before she knew it. But she’d miss the one person she’d give the world to see.
Marc, her on-hiatus Big Daddy, on-line lover and deepest desire; they’d had a giant falling out months ago, severing communication between them. Not an official break-up; they just weren’t ‘communicating’ right now, going on five months. She hadn’t even called to say she was in Richmond, sheesh she hadn’t known she was going to be in Richmond until that morning when her youngest sister backed out and she was drafted. But now, here she was at the state party; harboring a secret hope that Marc would be there. Jaye wanted to see him for once, just once before her hidden dream died a quiet death. After all, this entire event was designed to rev up the state folks who would make this victory happen, and Marc definitely fell in that category. Surreptitious glances around the room had not revealed anyone who looked like him. She’d memorized his picture. The curve of his biceps, those long, muscular legs during the hours spent talking late into the night and chatting on-line. She’d met hundreds of people in the receiving line with her brother, but no Marc. She’d know him when she saw him; her body would know his that was for sure.
Scanning the crowd, Jaye felt him more than saw him at first. Goose bubbles trickled down her arms, and a strange heat spread across her body. ‘Silly girl’, she was wearing a flowing jersey-knit dress and couldn’t possibly be cold, but there it was, that feeling again. Looking around Jaye finally saw him, off to her right, dark suit, tan hair and closing in. The glasses, Jaye she remembered the glasses as if she’d picked them herself; the thick hair falling across his forehead; his lips, the bottom one lushly full. And his hands – sweet mercy how she’d dreamed of those hands, on her, in her. Marc, her Marc was live and in-living color, coming her way.
Jaye changed her mind; she couldn’t see him, not today. Their last conversations had been a series of knock-down drag out battles. She didn’t want to fight, not here, not now. “I’ve got to move, I can pretend it’s not me. I can disappear into the party.” She thought. Jaye danced back and forth uncertainly before deciding to flee back into the crowd. And crowd it was, precious seconds elapsed as she tried to find an opening to scoot through. Then she felt him, a hand resting on her back and then another pressing against the bodies in front of her. “Now come on here folks, we don’t want our company to think we don’t know how to act at a party” Marc’s booming voice swung out over the bodies in front of them. The baritone vibrated through him and into her. Laughing people began moving apart, good naturedly greeting him, then her. And he seemed to know everyone, smiling broadly as he inexorably pushed her forward. They were headed for the exit, No! No! No! She couldn’t leave with him, they needed to stay in the party, mix and mingle with everyone else, not leave. But she found herself being swept with the crowd that surged toward the lobby.
She planted her feet; she was not going, no way. Their last conversation included ‘fuck yous,’ ‘go to hells’ and ‘hang ups,’ not the kind of words that lead to warm happy reunions. Jaye found her voice, “Marc, where are we going,”
He laughed, “Oh, so you do recognize me,”
“Yes, of course I recognize you, just like you recognize me, but I can’t leave the party, I have to stay in case my brother needs help.”
Marc stopped, “So you’re here with him?” Hooded eyes swept the ballroom seeking the VIP platform. Spotting her brother he said, “Don’t worry he’s partying over there with the big wigs; he’ll be fine. You, on the other hand I’d like to speak with in private.” He gazed down at her. Jaye’s stomach flipped. Deep in that gaze were a dozen promises, but also simmering anger, waiting to ripple across to her. He had nerve, anger was a two way street, and if he thought he was provoked, guess what, she was provoked too and she still had her own anger, passion and all the rest to deal with, she just didn’t want to do it in private, not with Marc.
Despite her feeble efforts at resistance, she was maneuvered into the corner of the elevator lobby where Marc took advantage of the chaos surrounding them to speak privately. Bending down he whispered as the crowd surged around them. “You’re here all the way in Richmond darlin’, why didn’t you call? I know things are bad between us but still, you could have called.” His hand moved in lazy circles over her stomach, her body surging, nipples stiffening through her dress.
Looking down at her arousal, Marc laughed, “Well someone’s glad to see me”. Mortified, Jaye felt very small, she looked up at him and down again, He felt good, he smelled good and he was so damn close. She couldn’t think, she was angry but then again she wasn’t. She looked up again; with his back to the surging crowd they were in their own private cocoon. His mouth was so close. She leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers, her body warmed at the sensation of his mouth.
Breaking off, “Bad girl,” he laughed, “You didn’t ask,”
Her inner coquette emerged, “Oh, I need to ask” she flirted.
Pinning her with his gaze, leaning closer, “Yes”, he whispered, “When you’ve been a bad girl you ask for everything and I either allow or not as I see fit, remember?”
Her brown eyes cut. Flicking back and forth, hot anger surged through her “Hmm, we’ll just have to see about that”
Marc cocked his head, his eyes sweeping down her petite frame; taking in her full breasts, ample hips. His gaze coming to rest on her face, Marc’s mouth hovered close to Jaye’s. “We’ll see, huh,” he leaned even closer, she had nowhere to go, “Who’s the man here darlin’? Who’s the boss of you?” Jaye looked away, pointedly ignoring his question; she’d always said he was the boss of her but now, she wasn’t so sure.
“No answer? Really now?” Marc drawled. Jaye studiously avoid his gaze; finally relaxing when she thought he moved away, then a sharp pain shot through her nipples. Her eyes flew to his laughing face. “Oh I see I have your attention now.” Whatever he’d done made her nips even harder than before and now, damn it, she was hotter than ever. “Answer me woman, who’s the boss of you?”
Petulant but not foolish, she pouted, “You Damnit! You!”
Dropping his forehead to hers he said “Well, well, well cussin’ too darlin’. What am I gonna do with you?”
Jaye pointedly looked away. It was all too much to comprehend, she needed a moment to think.
The drawl rolled back into her ear, “So tell me woman, are you wearing panties?”
Jaye’s eyes flew open in shock, “Wh,,wh,,what??” she stammered.
Sliding his hand across her stomach, his destination concealed by two walls and the crowd, Marc cupped her ass before responding, “Panties, are their panties between me and my pussy?” he whispered.
Jaye, pressed back harder into the wall “Now Marc, I don’t think,,,?”
His voice deepened with the intensity of his gaze “Panties woman, you know the rules. When we go out – no panties unless you get permission in advance”
Jaye was mortified. The rules, of course she remembered the rules, the Gosh Darn Rules of Conduct and Decorum. How could she forget? No simply rules and guidelines for them, noooo they had a book. Marc always said he was planning on spending the rest of his life with her so he wanted her to take her time, learn his rules, negotiate what she wanted and then memorize them. They were in effect for the rest of their lives so she needed to get used to them.
At one time it seemed like the rules covered everything in life and Jaye chafed at the very idea. Over a period of time though and with intense negotiation they eventually broke down into broad basic categories’, with some detailed around her dress and body. Case in point – unlike some of her friends in DD relationships, Jaye had no driving rules except one. Never let the cops call Marc over something she’d done wrong and never, ever bring him a moving violation. This rule covered speeding, her seat belt, her inability to keep up with her license, her lapsed insurance and on and on. Whenever Jaye pressed for detail, Marc would only make one comment.
“You do not want to know what the penalty is for doing something stupid in your car woman, so don’t” He’d growl.
Jaye never sped after that conversation – well just once when she was late for her workout class but her piteous pleas caused the officer to let her off with a warning. She really didn’t want to know what would happen for a speeding ticket.
Damn him, ten seconds with this man and she was ready to collapse like Scarlett O’Hara, She’d remembered the rule. “No panties Marc, no panties,” she whispered in response. She hadn’t worn panties tonight because she did remember the rule and after all – she was in Virginia.
Words rumbled out of him, “You sure darlin’?” He was gathering her skirt in his hand as he talked, slowly pulling it up her side. Jaye wanted to scream but that would draw immediate attention. He felt her panic rising, “You are completely shielded as long as you don’t move, it’s up to you.” Watching him, she felt cool air rising across her legs, followed by his fingers on her skin, thighs first, sliding around to her ass he grabbed a handful and squeezed.
Marc flexed his fingers again and again as she tried to steady her breathing, and not think about fucking him right then and there. Smoothing his hand around to the front of her thighs he pushed his fingers between her legs, sliding across her soaking, eager cunt. Squeezing his other arm for support, Jaye tried to distract herself by calculating square roots. Too bad she barely passed algebra.
“Good girl,” he smiled as he skimming her clit and swelling lips, “I had to check.”
“Of course Marc, sure you did” Jaye’s voice was cutting as she flicked her eyes at him, struggling for control.
Slowly lowering her skirt, Marc kissed her flushing face, “Let’s go somewhere private. We can speak in your room unless you think your roommates will protest.” They needed to move or he would take her right there in the hall politics be damned.
“I don’t have roommates,” she gasped, struggling to retain control. Marc had always brought her crazy passion, even from a distance, turning her inside out with a long-distance growl; he’d commanded orgasms across the phone and damn if her body didn’t give them to him every time. Now with him face-to-face, what chance did she have?
Smiling Marc nodded, “Good, we’ll go there,” Wrapping his arm around her, he easily propelled her forward into the next available elevator. Once on board, Jaye’s ass rested between his legs, giving them both something to enjoy; her gently rolling cheeks nestled on his rigidity as the elevator gently bounced from its large load and continual stops before reaching her tower floor.
Bitch, that’s the last thing he’d called her; and it wasn’t in that happy-fucking sort of way. He’d said that and tossed in a few fuck-yous for good measure. Not to be outdone she’d called him a few colorful things as well, very colorful, 64 Crayola box colorful. Yet here they were on the way to her hotel room. She didn’t trust him and claimed she never would. He didn’t trust her either so they were even there. He’d accused her of being a pampered, spoiled Daddy’s girl? She’d called him a knuckle-draggin’ hillbilly. Not exactly terms of endearment.
In all honesty she could be terribly absent-minded and yes her friends and family occasionally pointed out that her naiveté would be funny if it weren’t so frightening. Marc affectionately called them her blonde moments but what he found charming also enraged him. He insisted she broke the cardinal rule about taking care of herself by willfully not paying careful attention, not listening and expecting things to just ‘work out’. A talented professional, she excelled at her work, but outside of the office it was as if she lived on auto-pilot. What she didn’t care about, she didn’t think about. He’d raise more than a little hell over her behavior and promised to raise cane over her bum if she didn’t do better.
Marc could feel her heat along with his own. He wanted to crush her to him and say over and over again, “You are mine, you are mine and I protect what’s mine” until it sank into that pretty little head. He promised her that and more but in the end she’d defied him repeatedly. All he wanted was for her to be more careful, more thoughtful. While he wasn’t there to watch over her and protect her – he needed her to submit and follow the rules, just take care of herself, but not his Jaye.
Opening the hotel room door, Jaye stepped into the room, backing away from Marc, pausing at the foot of the bed. An executive hotel room, the king-sized bed was complemented by a separate desk, sofa and television area for added comfort. Watching him step into the room, Marc bulk filled the doorway and foyer, closing the door behind him. Jaye didn’t know what to do, part of her wanted to slug him as hard as she could, part of her wanted him to pull her to the bed and fuck like there was no tomorrow; conversation be damned.
Dang, one word, curled through her body like aromatic pipe smoke.
They’d argued viciously, regrettably; yet she missed him desperately. The simple fact of the matter was that he was right. She didn’t pay close enough attention and created tiny gaffes that sometimes exploded into bigger issues. Most, if not all of these challenges would have been avoidable if she’d just been paying attention. Transposing two numbers on a magazine order form had sent the elderly widower down the block her Vanity Fair subscription for six months. A minor faux pas – however dropping a word when reading her insurance papers made her rates triple when she signed for whole life instead of term.
Marc had been apoplectic.
She didn’t know what to do next, her body froze with uncertainty.
Marc quickly solved that dilemma. “You didn’t greet Henry,” he said.
Chastened Jaye quickly reached for his cock. One of the detailed rules found under sex, it came right after clothing selections. Rule number 4a: Greet Big Daddy, greet Big Daddy’s cock, the dear Henry. Smoothing her hands across the top of him, she stroked his length while reaching for the full sack below. As she stroked him, she watched his eyes, confident and unblinking. She felt her fears and panic drift away, Daddy’s home.
Jaye manipulated his cock, softly tugging, squeezing and pulling. Her hands warmed his balls, causing Henry to swell even more, filling her hands with his weight. Then her eyes fell, “It’s now or never,” she thought, so stepping back, she sank to the floor. Kneeling before him, she pressed her face to his legs wrapping her arms around his calves. Lowering her body until she was prone to the floor, Jaye embraced his left ankle, kissing the arch of his foot. Then, reaching for his right leg, she repeated the same, hugging his ankle, pressing her face against him; tears began to choke her throat. Eventually, she slid her hands up his thighs to find his swollen, throbbing cock. Taking him in her hands, she stroked him from her knees, weirdly relieved, she felt safe. He was his, and he was hers.
“I’m sorry Marc, I’m sorry. You were right; I was wrong and I’m sorry – please forgive me”
Jaye was shocked, she had never intended on being nice to him much less submissive, but here she was on her knees before the one man who made her blindingly angry yet loved her more than anyone alive. She didn’t want to fight not tonight; this evening was about new beginnings, a chance to start over.
Marc was dumbfounded, he thought she might curse him or hit him or possibly try to call hotel security but definitely not this, Jaye? on her knees? At his feet? Looking down he knew one thing, he wanted to see her naked - now. Oh yes, she would learn from him this night. She would understand their roles, his responsibility and her submission before the night was over. But first things first – naked.
“Stop baby,” he commanded, “stand up, and take off your dress.” Releasing him, Jaye stood, her dress coming off easily, she laid it across the back of the chair before turning towards him. In her high-heels, designer lace-covered corset and silk stockings she was breath-taking. More beautiful than he’d ever imagined.
To be continued...
Now don't shoot the messenger. The rest will be up tomorrow along with some information about this wonderful author.