Toys PART 2

I should have known better than to open a photo sent from Bernard during a string of sexts… I almost dropped my phone when the file opened up and I was graced with the image of Bernard’s rock hard cock, his hand wrapped casually around the base… I could almost taste the velvety flesh on my tongue.

I quietly gather my things and duck out of the lecture as politely as possible.  I don’t think anyone gave a shit.  If they did, I didn’t notice… As soon as I get out the doors, I hit “send” on Bernard’s phone number.  He picks up so quickly, it didn’t even ring on my end.  

His voice is graveled and stern, “About fucking time, Princess…”  I wonder if I could come from just listening to his voice…  

“Oh my god that was unfair!”  I hear a low chuckle.  “Just you wait until the next time you’re in the middle of a quiet meeting with a group of yourpeers…”  

“I look forward to it.”  I roll my eyes.  “Where are you right now, Princess?”

“Waiting on the elevator so I can go up to my room.  I bolted out of that session as soon as I opened that picture.”

“Picture?”  His voice is coy… “Tell me about it.  What did it make you feel?  What did you think of?”

I mumble, “Bell, I’m about to get into a public fucking elevator.”

“Are there kids around?”  I check around.  

“Uh, no.  No kids.  Why?”  Oh, I know where he’s going with this…

“Because you’re going to prove to me just how dirty your mind is.  And I don’t give a fuck who is around to hear it.”  The unspoken exception is if there are children in the vicinity, and thankfully we both know it.  

I groan.  There’s nobody in my immediate vicinity, but I may have accidentally caught the attention of a guy at the bar… “When I opened the picture…”

“Go on.  Tell me.”  I pause because a pair of old ladies is walking by.  “That’s an order, Princess.  Now be a good girl for me and obey…”

This time my groan definitely gets a few people’s attention.  I lean against the far wall of the elevator bay, hoping the marble floors don’t echo too much.  I close my eyes as I start to speak softly. He, claims my voice takes on a specific timbre when I talk him off.  I didn’t realize it, and I can’t really reproduce it on command.  It just happens when I’m horny and talking to Bernard (so, often…).

“Fuck, Princess… you know I could come just listening to your voice.  Your fuck-me voice.”  

“I was sitting in the main ballroom listening to a god-awful speaker, texting all those dirty things to you…”

“Like that, Emmae – that’s it.  Like smooth gravel.  That voice is the embodiment of sex, Princess.  Keep talking.”

“When the picture of your beautiful cock opened up onto my screen, the first thing I wanted to do was lick it.”  

“The screen?”

“Well, physically, yes.  That’s what I almost licked… But I know that cock so well…  So, so well...  I saw it and instantly I could taste you in my mouth… My tongue started fluttering automatically.  On its own.  It’s like my tongue knows exactly what it’s supposed to do… Like muscle memory its favorite thing… your gorgeous cock, babe.”

“Fucking hell, Princess… I wonder how many people just heard that?”  My eyes shoot open and I feel myself blush as I take a look around.  I completely fucking forgot where I was.  If the people on the other side of the elevator bay heard anything, they’re making no indication of it.  Two successive “Ding” sounds go off.  

“Did two elevators just show up?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.  Get into the one with fewer people.”  

“Yes, Sir.”  I get a little thrill out of hearing him groan with satisfaction at hearing me call him by his title.

“Are you wearing one of your skirts?

“Of course.  The dress code is Business-Professional.”

“Perfect.”  Fuck, I already know what he’s going to make me do…    

The elevator car I enter has one other person.  “How many people are with you?”

“Just one.”

“What floor is your room on?”

“28th.” 

He continues his line of questioning.  “What floor is the other person going to?”

“Fourth.”

“Lucky for you, you’ll have 24 floors to take your panties off.”

“Fuck! These are glass elevators.  They overlook the atrium!”

“Uh oh… I guess you shouldn’t draw too much attention to yourself, then…”

“Yes, Sir.”  The other passenger exits the elevator when we get to the fourth floor.  Relieved, I start to quickly but casually slip my panties down my hips.  

“Which pair are you wearing?”

“Black lace… They made me think of you.”

“Are you taking them off for me?”

“Yes.”

“You get extra points if you send me a picture of you completing your task like a good girl.  Describe what is happening while you take the picture.”  

“Yes, Sir.  I have my black lace panties a little more halfway down my legs, just below my knees and I’m snapping a photo right now.”  I hear a shutter sound.  “I’m loving the multitasking abilities of this phone…”

“Keep going.  Tell me about the photo you just took.”  

“In the background, you can see that I’m wearing my black pumps.  They add four inches of height while still looking professional.  And my legs look fucking amazing in them.”  

“Tell me about your panties, Princess.”

I clear my throat.  “They’re very wet, sir.”  

“Good girl.”

My own voice sounds like something between a grumble and a sigh… “Fuck, and now my thighs are all wet.”

He laughs.  “This could get embarrassing for you, Princess…”  I’m cursing Bernard right now, as I feel the elevator start to slow down around the 19th floor.  Fuck.  I make a split second decision.  I could hurry to pull my underwear back up, but somehow I feel like it would disappoint Bernard, and myself.  Instead I quickly kick them the rest of the way off.  Before I can bend down to pick them up, the doors start to open, so I drop my handbag on top of them instead.

The gentleman entering the elevator looks concerned that I so abruptly dropped my handbag and starts to bend down to pick it up for me, thinking the drop was accidental (it was abrupt…).  I shriek, “No!”  He jumps backward, alarmed by my outburst.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to snap at you.  I wasn’t sure what you were doing, that’s all.”  He’s still looking at me like I’m on drugs, so I figure it can’t get any worse.  As he leans back down to offer to pick it up again, I blurt out, “Oh, god – no! don’t touch that, there are… bodily fluids on the handles.”  His face is branded with a unique strain of horrified.  “It’s the Obstetrics medical conference downstairs – there was an accident during a demonstration.”  

Bernard fucking howls with laughter in my ear and I could kill him right now… The gentleman hastily exits the elevator on the next floor.  I can’t help but laugh with Bernard at the absolute absurdity of the scene.  “Bell, you are a goddamn shit heel, you know that?”  He can hear the lack of heat behind my voice, and we’re laughing so hard my sides are hurting.  

Then as quickly as it was lost, the mood is back.  “Okay, Princess. Enough fun.  Time to focus again.”

“Yes, Sir.”  After I pick up the lacy garment and stash it in my bag (which technically does have traces of my own juices on the handles now), I straighten up my spine and imagine Bernard’s palms rubbing briskly up and down my arms.  His way of bringing me into the moment.  “Okay, sir.  I’m focused.  What next?”  

“How long until you get to your floor?”  The elevator bell dings.

“I just arrived.”

“Good.  Start walking to your room.  You’re wearing one of your button-downs, right?”  I know why he’s asking that… Shit.

“Yes, Sir I am.”

“Do you have a camisole on underneath?”

“Not this time.  The material was too thick so a cami would have been too stifling.”  

“Princess, tell me the color of your bra?”

“Want to guess?”

“I already know.  The black lace that matches your wet panties.”

A moan escapes me… “That’s the one.”

“Can you guess what my next order is?”

“I need to unbutton my top?”  Before he even answers,  I’ve unbuttoned and un-tucked my blouse in record time.  I casually let it slip open, waiting for the elevator doors to finish closing before letting it fall down my back.  I catch it by the sleeve, then toss it onto a narrow accent table against the wall across from the elevators.  I take a look in the mirror above said table, and I’m so incredibly turned on by my reflection.

“Good girl.  You can read my goddamn mind…”  I pull my phone away from my ear just briefly so I can snap another picture.  In the frame, I see my bra–covered tits (which look magnificent in this bra), and my top haphazardly and precariously dangling from the accent table.  To top it off are some serious fuck-me eyes.  To the point where I want to fuck the slut in that reflection.  

I’m sounding pretty pathetically breathless now.  “Baby, we just happen to be the same breed of depraved…”

“Fucking right we are.”

“Are you still hard, Sir?”

“What do you think, Princess?”

“I know you are.”

“Goddamn right.  Is your shirt unbuttoned?”  He tries to conceal his excitement, but the facade crumbles as this little game goes on.  I’ve upped the ante already and I’m about to let him know.

“It’s been unbuttoned and open since before I stepped off the elevator.” 

That must have stunned him because he’s silent for a moment.  I continue, knowing exactly what will send him over the edge.  My voice is a fine mix of ‘fuck me’ and breathless.  “It was getting really warm, so I went ahead and took my top off and left it on the little table next to the elevators.  Maybe some other girl will want it.  I kind of hated the thing anyway.”  

I hear him sigh, but he doesn’t say anything, which momentarily freaks me out a bit.  “Bell? Is everything okay?”

He clears his throat, “Fuck, Princess… Yeah.  Everything is really, really good.”  I feel a satisfied smirk grace my features… I have no fucking idea what has taken me over, but I’m getting an unbelievable rush from this little activity.  

“Is it okay if I unhook my bra before I get to the door?”

“Goddammit, Princess.  I’m about to come and I’m not even touching myself.”  

I’m at the door when he says that, and I have to take a moment to straighten my thoughts before I can retrieve the key card to open the damn thing.  I lean my forehead against the cool surface of the door, letting the pads of my fingers lightly caress the shiny lacquer-like finish.  Man, they went all out for the doors on this floor…  

“Bernard?”  

He takes a breath, “Yeah, Princess?”

“I’m going to let my bra fall down my arms before I walk in my door.”

He groans.  “Fuck, Emmae.  Holy fuck.”

Where the hell did this exhibitionist streak come from?  I mean, it’s not like I’m fucking someone onstage or anything, but this is so out of character for me… I think.

As I retrieve the key card out of my purse, I feel my bra straps fall down my shoulders, and as the lacy fabric brushes my arms, goosebumps break out all over my body.  I feel a surge of wetness between my thighs when I see my lace bra nonchalantly piled in front of my pumps.  My nipples are hard like pebbles by a frozen lake, which is the image that floods my mind when I gently press them to the cold, hard surface of the door.  My breath hitches and a shiver runs down my spine while I slip the key card into the slot.  I turn the handle and push a little bit, but I’m not ready to let go just yet.

I think this warrants another picture.  I hold it up for a selfie, but I don’t angle my head to look at the camera.  Instead, I gently lean my forehead against the door and close my eyes.  I’m hoping the image captures how “in the moment” I really am.  Sure, I have the presence of mind to snap a photo, but it’s part of the game.  I snap it and review it quickly so I can get through the door and into the safety of my locked-up room.  I suddenly realize that a 30-something-year old man, standing about 15 feet away with his luggage in hand (I assume he’s checking out) is staring at me, gaping at the sight in front of him.  I see his massive erection, but I honestly couldn’t give two fucks, well, except for the fact that it’s pretty fucking flattering.  To make sure he realizes I’m not available, I make sure to talk very obviously to Bernard, patiently waiting for me to continue.  

“Baby, I’ve got my tits out and I’m in the hallway.  I can’t wait til you get here to fuck my brains out…”  No, Bell doesn’t have plans to come here, but I don’t want this guy thinking I’ll be here alone.  “Oh, thank god.  I can hold out a few minutes until you get up here…”  I sigh and give the guy behind me a slight but dismissive smile.  He looks slightly terrified at the possibility of being caught ogling a guy’s girlfriend…  I groan shamelessly, “Oh my fucking god, Bernard.  Someone just saw me…” Bernard groans but doesn’t verbalize anything.  “No, baby… don’t worry.  He knows better than to do more than just look…”  The guy nods, slack-jawed.  “Yeah, I’ll see you in a minute.”  Mr. Voyeur bolts to the elevators at the speed of light and within seconds he’s gone.