Waiting for you - Sex Stories

Waiting for you

... Breath deeply Samantha; calm down and think. As I gradually calmed my mind, so his instructions came back to me. 'I expect my slut to trust me and to embrace life.' *** The night before... I had agreed to meet him at his place. When I had called he had been courteous but firm; calm and imbued with confidence as he gave me the address and time. I was informed to dress up for him. He wanted me to go and buy new expensive underwear, make sure that any hair that a slut should remove, was immaculately done so, and to buy a new dress of my choice. His final request was more unexpected; he asked me to bring a tracksuit in a bag. Finally, he stated that if I was late then the meeting would never happen. I arrived twenty minutes early and paced up and down outside his building. My stomach was a bundle of nerves and on more than one occasion I started to walk away. If I hadn't heard it all from Annabelle then I wouldn't have even been here in the first place. If he was surveying me out of his window, which I suspect he might be, then he would see a woman looking chic in a virginal white, minimalist dress, pacing up and down. I hoped that he'd like what I'd chosen to wear. It was crazy, I didn't know him and yet felt that I should please him. I did look good though. The dress hugged my figure perfectly, showing my body off to it's full advantage. It had been made to measure and left a sizable dent in my husband's credit card. For the heels I had chosen some swanky Jimmy Choos, beige ...

... with black dentelle, delicately positioned around the heel. The underwear I had chosen was purely decorative and didn't actually cover anything. It was rimmed with sheer white lace but the rest of the fabric was wispy and transparent. I was heavily made up around the eyes, in an attempt to conceal the evidence of my previous evening's almost sleepless night. Matching burgundy lipstick and nail varnish decorated my mouth, hands and feet so that they were flouting themselves in elegant harmony. At two minutes past the hour, I walked up to the door and thought that maybe I'd just stand there and wait for him to open it. As a worldly woman, I knew that I should always arrive a little late just to peak a man's interest, and I had really wanted to peak his. Five minutes later though and the door still hadn't opened and I started to shuffle my feet and doubt myself. Slightly irritated, I finished by rapping the knocker against the cold metal of the door. I stood back and touched my hair to make sure it was as it should be. I heard a deep voice and looked up to notice a microphone and a camera set up above the door. The voice that was let out into the night was harsh and intransigent, with none of the softness of our previous contact. "You're late Samantha. I told you about not being late." At that point I started to realize that my regular reflexes were all wrong; he wasn't a regular guy. "Shit," I cursed under my voice. "What was that? Have you got something to say in your defense?" I ...