Meeting the party planner

“Oh, Mr. Stevens, I know just the person! My cousin Zama is such a great party planner. Can I introduce you?”

“Umm, sure, Rose, why not.”

Now, ordinarily, I would have said no to such a meeting. It didn’t exactly seem like the best use of my time. I was in such a good mood, though. This had been a great year. My business had been struggling along in “start-up” phase for about 6 years now, but this year we had finally had a breakthrough. Two different major telecom companies had adopted our payment platform, and our revenue had increased by 4x. We had brought in new staff, and everyone would get bonuses. People sure like their boss when they are getting bonuses!

Also, for the first time in several years, we were going to have a big holiday party for the company. It was sure to be a great time, and a deserved celebration after a year of such hard work.

So when my assistant, Rose, mentioned that her cousin was a party planner, I figured, why not meet her? I was about to ask Rose to handle the whole thing anyway. Still, if I let her just hire her cousin without meeting her, I might not be doing my fiduciary duty.

Also, I’ll admit: I like seeing Rose’s smile. She is such a sweet, nice girl, and so beautiful, that it is great to do things that make her happy, when I can. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to meet her cousin, “Zama.” Maybe the good looks ran in the family.

I asked Rose to set up the meeting.

The next week, I found myself at a cafe near the office at 8:48 a.m., a few minutes early for my 9:00 am with Zama. I like to do casual meetings like this in cafes sometimes, and this was nice because it was a particularly warm day-it felt like spring-time, not late-fall!

I had just ordered my coffee, when I noticed a woman walk slowly through the doorway-well, to be more accurate, the entire cafe noticed her. A striking, tall black woman with smooth, dark skin, she probably stood 5-9 or so, with high-heeled sandals that took her just above 6 feet.

She wore short, frayed demin shorts so small that you could see the bottom of her pockets beneath the bottom, over legs that seemed never to end. She wore a stylish, black tank top that stopped just before her navel, revealing a washboard stomach and a small, silver belly-button ring. She was probably a C-cup, but her breasts looked large on her slim body, and so perky that they would stand up on their own, rendering a bra entirely unnecessary.

She wore large, dark sunglasses and an expression that projected complete comfort and authority, like she knew all eyes were on her, and she was used to it. She reminded me a bit of a young Naomi Campbell.

She took off her shades and scanned the room. I wondered what she was looking for. Then she took out her phone, and pressed a few buttons.

Suddenly my phone rang. No…this couldn’t be.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Stevens…oh, I see you!” She smiled and waved, and hung up the phone. Her smile lit up the room. As she walked over, I suddenly started getting nervous. Me! I wasn’t supposed to be nervous! I was the one interviewing her, after all. Still, I couldn’t help it.

I stood up out of my chair to shake her hand. Indeed, I am about 5-8, so I found myself looking up at her beautiful face as she introduced herself.

“Hi, I’m Zama.” She spoke almost in a purr.

“Huh…Hi Zama. It-nice to meet you.” I found myself stammering a bit.

She stuck out her hand, but instead of placing in to the side as with a normal handshake, she presented it with her palm facing down. Somehow, without thinking, I found myself bending forward slightly and kissing her hand. Perhaps that looked chivalrous?

We sat down, and I tried to get my wits about me. She didn’t make it easy. She immediately crossed one leg over the other, and began dangling her sandal off of her foot as she spoke. Ordinarily, I don’t have much of a foot fetish, but for some reason I couldn’t help continually stealing glances at her legs and feet. They were just so beautiful!

She thanked me for meeting her, and I asked about her experience. She began telling me about the various functions she had planned, and how successfully they had gone. She had started planning parties in high school, and had turned it into a career after a brief stint in college. She told me she had recently turned 21.

“Congratulations,” I said. “That must have been a fun party.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she said with a knowing laugh. “I planned it, so it went exactly as I wanted it to go!”

“Sounds like you have found your calling,” I said, and she agreed with a grin. “Still,” I added, “have you ever thought of modelling? You seem like you would be a natural.”

“Aww, aren’t you sweet!” she replied, placing her hand on mine. Her soft touch sent a bolt of electricity down my spine. I hoped she hadn’t noticed.

“I modeled a bit,” she said, “but I didn’t really like it. Too much traveling, too much prancing around, and the people are pretty annoying. In this job, my clients tend to be much more fun.”

The way she slowed down her speech, looked me directly in the eye, and emphasized the word “much” seemed to imply something…or did it? Perhaps I was reading too much into this. She was just being friendly, I assured myself.

Somehow intimidated, I found myself lowering my eyes from her piercing gaze, which sent them back down to her smooth legs and perfect feet. Her sandal was still dangling.

“Do you like my shoes?” she asked. With a jolt, I looked back up at her.

“What?”

“Well, it’s just that you have looked at them a few times, so I wonder if you like them. I just bought them this weekend; I haven’t worn them before.” She lifted her foot up and rolled her ankle around, inviting me to stare at it. I did, and to my dismay, I started getting hard.

“They’re beautiful,” I said, perhaps a bit too lovingly.

“Aww, thank you!” she replied. “I’m so glad you like them. I think they’re so pretty…but they do hurt my feet a bit. Umm…I hope this isn’t too forward. Can I ask you a favor?”

I looked her in the eyes again, skeptically. “Sure, yes, what is it?”

“Well, it’s just that these new shoes are hurting my feet a bit, and I was just wondering if you would like to give me a foot massage.” With that, she let her sandal fall to the floor, and placed her foot on my thigh, inches from my now raging boner.

“Right here in the restaurant?” I asked. “I’m not sure if this is really the right-“

“Ohh, that’s good, thank you!” she said. I realized that, despite my protestations, I had already begun massaging her foot. I looked down to see her arch in my hands. God, it really was beautiful. And, I couldn’t believe I was touching this angel anywhere, so I would take what I could get.

I looked back up at her lovely face. Her eyes were closed, and she let out a soft moan. “Yes, that’s it,” she purred. I throbbed in my pants.

I looked back at her foot, and her leg, as I massaged them. They were so erotic. I was in heaven, but in hell also. I longed to move her foot just an inch or two to the side, so that it would touch my aching cock. But I knew that would be incredibly inappropriate. Not only would she probably rush out of the room, she would tell Rose, and soon I would lose the respect of the entire company.

So I kept her foot where it was. I massaged it, and I let my hands slide up to her ankles and calves.

“It looks like you’re enjoying this more than I am,” she said.

I looked up and met her eyes, which were (obviously) no longer closed. She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Oh, yea, I umm…am I doing a good job?” I didn’t really know what else to say. Had she noticed the tent in my pants? She must have.

“You know,” she said, “once I had a very rich client who was arranging his daughter’s 15th birthday party. It went well, but he was inappropriate towards me. He kept coming up behind me, touching me in the wrong places while pretending to “squeeze” through the kitchen, and generally making me uncomfortable.”

“Sorry to hear that,” I chimed in.

“Anyway, I told him afterwards that I wouldn’t work with him again. He apologized, and said he understood. The next year, though, for his daughter’s sweet 16, he asked me to take him on as a client again. I said no. He went to my school (I was still in school at the time), and asked me again. I said no. He doubled his price. I said no. He tripled his price. I still said no.”

(I didn’t know where this was going, but it didn’t seem anywhere good. Had she noticed my boner, and now she was going to extort me?)

“Eventually, he dropped to his knees and began begging me, pleading with me to plan his daughters Sweet 16. He said no one else would do. He apologized and told me he would pay whatever I asked. He was so cute, down there on the ground begging, that I eventually said…well, I said I’d think about it.”

“Okay…” I was nervous.

“And he was so grateful, he started kissing my feet, right there in the parking lot. It was very, very funny.”

She flexed her foot again. I found myself staring at it again. I accidentally licked my lips.

“I mention that story, because, to my surprise, I enjoyed it. I liked having a grown man kiss my feet. And I mention it to you, Mr. Stevens, because it looks like you want to kiss my foot.”

She paused. My heart was beating a mile-a-minute, and I could feel the blood coursing through my cock. Suddenly, I did want to kiss her beautiful, glorious foot.

I looked up at her. She wore a look of calm bemusement.

“Well,” she said. “Go ahead.”

Looking around the café to see if anyone was looking, I bent my head down and kissed her foot. Then I kissed it again. And again.

She moaned. “Yes, that’s a good boy,” she said.

She moved her foot away from my mouth, and I followed it. Then she moved it all the way away, grazing my cock in the process. Now it was my turn to let out an involuntary moan.

I watched as she re-crossed her legs, than looked back at her.

“I didn’t say to stop,” she said calmly, then moved her gaze from my face to her manicured nails. The implication was clear: she expected me to obey, and was uninterested in any personal struggle I might have before I did so.

I looked back down at her gorgeous foot, then sank to my knees and began kissing it. I knew I looked ridiculous. I knew the other diners were probably staring at me now. But I couldn’t help it. This woman had me transfixed. I kissed and worshiped her feet and legs like my life depended on it. Every once in a while, she moved her leg and brushed her foot across the front of my pants, and I whimpered.

“You know,” she said after one of these brushes. “Rose tells me you have over $300 000 set aside for employee bonuses this year. I think that, instead of giving them bonuses, you’ll spend all of that money on this party, and on my services. It will be a great party, and I will take home a fee commensurate with the value I provide. What do you think.”

“Yes ma’am,” I said, between kisses. How was I supposed to say no to this woman?

“Good boy. You’re very horny right now, aren’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“The waiters are looking at us right now, but-ahh, don’t stop. I didn’t tell you to stop…you won’t stop even though they are looking at us, because you are so incredibly turned on right now, you will do whatever I say. Won’t you?”

Kiss “Yes ma’am” Kiss

“Good boy.”

Finally, she stood up. Still kneeling on the ground, I looked up at her. She looked so regal.

“You know, Rose told me such nice things about you. She said you were strong, and attractive, and kind. I was expecting to be impressed. I also thought that I would have to really sell myself to make sure I got this business. But then I walked in here, and as soon as we greeted each other, I knew that I had nothing to worry about it. You were smitten, and you would do whatever it took to work with me.”

As I looked up at her, the accuracy of her words was unmistakable.

“Now you’re so far gone, you’re hoping that I make you cum right here in this coffee shop, aren’t you?”

I nodded. She laughed.

“Of course I’m not going to do that. I have left my card on the counter. Rose will give you my bank details. Once you have transferred the money into my account, you can call me. Understood?”

I nodded again. She began walking away…looking incredible (of course) as she did so. Still on the ground, I stared.

Abruptly, she turned around. “Oh, and Mr. Stevens,” she said. “Don’t cum until I tell you to. Since I know you’ll be thinking about me when you cum, I think that’s a fair condition, don’t you?”

“Yes ma’am,” I said. And she walked away.

Now, I dusted myself off, paid the bill, tucked my boner into my waistband, and began walking back to the office. What the hell just happened, I wondered. I could never go back to that café again, that’s for sure.

And could I really do what she said? Could I send her $300,000 for the party? That was more than 10x what I had budgeted! No way. By the time I got back to the office, I had decided I was just going to have to tell Rose that it didn’t work out.

I was already feeling a bit better when I opened my office door, to be greeted by Rose. She sported a huge, beautiful smile.

“Hi Mr. Stevens! I just got off the phone with Zama. She said the meeting went great, and that she will be planning the party. That’s great!”

“Umm…yes, Rose, it was a good meeting.” I’d let her down gently, later.

“Anyway, she left me her bank details so you can pay the deposit. Here they are.” And she handed me a piece of paper.

I walked into my office and looked at the paper. Just looking at the name, “Zama,” made my cock twitch slightly. I had never heard that name before, and I could practically hear the way she said it to me when she introduced herself, with a voice that oozed eroticism. I found myself rock-hard again.

I took out her business card. Looking at her phone number made it worse. The fact that her number was there, and I could call it and hear her voice…I was sweating.

I started to dial, then stopped. Did I dare? What would I even say? She told me to pay before I called. Did I dare call first?

Maybe I should just cum first. I would feel better. I started touching myself. I pictured Zama, with her beautiful feet and legs and her irresistible allure.

I stopped myself. I had promised her. For some reason, I really didn’t want to disappoint this woman.

It was almost an out of body experience as I opened up our online banking page, added a user, and sent out a $300,000 transfer. I had the only account that could do that unilaterally…and I couldn’t believe I was doing it.

My heart pounded as I dialed Zama’s number.

“Well hello, Mr. Johnny Stevens,” came the voice at the other side. As earlier, the sound of her voice sent me into a swirl of arousal.

“I uhh…Hi Zama. I go by Jack. Umm…I sent the money.”

“I know you did Johnny, I got the SMS notification. That’s a good boy. Have you been a good boy for me?”

“Yes ma’am. I have.”

“You’re rock hard right now, aren’t you Johnny.”

“Yes ma’am. Yes I am.”

“Sitting in your office?”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to tell you to take your cute little cock out and stroke yourself till you cum. Is that was you want.”

“Yes ma’am. You are so incredibly sexy. I can’t resist you. Just the sound of your voice…I’m on the verge of cumming.”

She laughed. “I always think it’s so funny when I have this effect on guys. It happens sometimes, don’t worry. You know what, since you’ve been such a good boy, go ahead and lock your door, take off your pants, and sit back down.”

“Yes ma’am.” I did what she said.

“Now, I just sent you an email. Go to your email and open it up.”

I did. On it were two pictures, side by side. One picture was Zama’s beautiful face, with a superior, knowing smirk. The other was her foot.

“Oh my god you are perfection!” I practically screamed into the phone as I stared at the pictures. “I think I’m gonna cum.”

“Did I give you permission?”

“No…please Zama…please may I cum?”

“Hmm…no.”

“No?? What do I have to do? I sent you so much money already??”

She laughed. “I know sweetie. I’m just playing with you. Okay, after I count down from three you can cum.

“3…2…ooh this is fun isn’t it. I’m really enjoying this! Thinking about you sitting there, in your big office, with your dick in your-“

“Zama, please! I’m begging you!”

“Hmm…I think I like it better when you call me ma’am…or Goddess.”

“Goddess, please! I’m so close, I’m so horny, please may I cum?”

“3…2…well, since you’ve been such a good boy…1…CUM.”

And I exploded. The blast got all over my desk my screen, my floor. It was better than any sex I’d ever had. I tried to catch my breath.

“Did you enjoy that?” she asked.

“Unghh huh mmmm…” I was incoherent. She laughed again.

“I thought so. Well, I will call Rose to set up some time to discuss the details of the event. It will be fun!”

She hung up the phone, and I collapsed in my chair.

This was not how I expected this meeting to go.