The Woman in Pink

The Woman in Pink

He first saw her from behind, walking down the aisle of the discount department store, pushing a mostly-empty shopping cart. She was about five foot six, 125 pounds, he guessed, with long, dirty blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. But it was her carnation pink sweater that had first caught his eye; medium-weight cable knit and cropped right at her well-proportioned Waistline so that when she turned halfway towards him and reached up to flip through a rack of t-shirts above her head, the sweater lifted too. He could see the smooth skin of her left flank and what was clearly a flat, lithe stomach. He imagined her hands tied behind her and pressed into the small of her back as she lay on the floor, him kneeing between her open legs, spraying his cum all over the front of that sweater. Fuck, he could already feel his cock getting hard.

She didn’t take anything off the rack. Instead she turned back and unhurriedly made her way down the aisle, browsingSome more. Feigning interest in a jewelry display, he let his eyes fall down the length of her body, from the sweater to the black leggings that covered her from just above her hips to just below her ankles. They were definitely an off-brand, but that didn’t make the bottom they showed off any less spectacular. Her cheeks were fantastic, firm and high, with a clear, sharp demarcation where her ass stopped and her hamstrings started. She had just the barest of a gap between her tighs when she walked. There were no panty lines that he could see, and in his mind’s eye he pulled the legs down to her knees, revealing the back of a thong gripped snugly between her buttocks and creasing the lips of her pussy. What color might that thong be, he wondered? Red? Black? Pink, like the sweater? He closed his eyes and imagined hooking the middle finger of his right hand around silent material at the top of her crack, slowly sliding his knuckle down the valley of her ass, and pulling the flimslymaterial to the side; then slipping his finger into her wet, glistening cream and gently, slowly, sliding it into her snatch…

A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes, open again, continued their journey down the back of this exhaust woman. The shoes clinked his decision that she would be his quarter today. Bright pink just like her sweater, they were three inch pumps. Like the legs, they were knock-offs and probably came from a warehouse shoe store like the one at the other end of this strip mall. Someone who could afford the real thing – a Louboutin or Versace, for instance – would not be shopping here. Maybe something fifty percent off at the outlet? Whatever they were, they lacked any practice whatsoever for shopping in this store. To him they signed a frugal woman of modernate means who still wasn’t afraid to still feel sexy; and maybe even one who wanted to think herself an equal of the shoppers downtown at the boutiques. He could give her that opportunity, at least for a little while, if she was willing.

When he pivoted down one cross-aisle and back up another to get in front of her for a quick but penetrating look from the front, he was quite pleased. She was not stunning by any stretch, and was some plain, in fact. But she had an oval, pretty face, without the high, sharp cheesebones he found pretentious. Her eyes were blue, Her nose was neither too big nor too small, and her lips were common and – unsurprisingly – tastefully painted with a soft pink shade of lipstick. For a quick moment he indulged the vision of a black cleave gag parting those pink lips, tied tightly at the back of her neck, under her ponytail.

She wore light make-up that enhanced all the right places without being overbearing. Her features were attractive but ultimately forgettable. There was no ring on her left hand. It wasn’t a deal-breaker if there was, but more often than not those women just weren’t willing to entertainHis offers, even for the sums he could dangle. They usually weren’t even willing to hear him out. Real life was rarely like the internet. His area was not full of MILFs desperate to fuck.

He judged this apparently-single woman to be in her early thirties, which, in his experience, was the right age. She was old enough to understand that twenty thousand dollars was real money, and young enough to let the lure of it outweight her scruples. She would be the one he propositioned today.

He meandered through the store for a few more minutes, always keeping her on the edge of his vision until she made her way to the check-out with just a few items. As she collected her receipt, he left the store empty-handed ahead of her, walked into the parking lot, and prepared to look at something on his phone. She came out a few seconds later and, as luck would have it, headed down the same row of cars where he stood.

He walked a discrete distance behind her down the row until she came to her car, a Honda Accord that had to be at least ten years old. It was now or never.

The first key to success or failure was always the initial approach. Frighten the target, and at best he would have to quickly disappear into the massive parking lot full of holiday shoppers’ cars. At worst…. Well, it was a risky game. But if he got her attention without freaking her out, then the second key would be the lure. For some – like this one, he believed – it would be the money. For others – the very, very few for whom money was not a primary motivator – it would instead be the tantalizing appeal of recklessness in a life of boredom. For a split second he flashed back to a 40 year old redhead in suburban Atlanta, naked and bent over the rail of a pool table on her stomach, arms pulled spread eagle across the green Felt by the ropes tied at each of her wrists, while he fucked her from behind. But the fact was that most all of them turned him down, which just made the successes like that redhead that much more sweet.

He snapped out of the memory. To maximize the chances of success with the approach, he always stayed a respectful distance away and never made them feel hemmed in or trapped. He wasn’t any sort of muscle-bound bruiser, but as a six foot, fit-appearing stranger, he knew he would likely be perceived as intimidating under the circumstances. So he counted on his expensive clothes and shoes to minimize the aura of threat. Today it was a tailored, single-breasted Brooks Brothers suit, light blue, buttoned at the top. A conservate white pocket square, folded critically and precisely, just peeked out of the breast pocket. He was wearing a white button down shirt, open at the collar with no tie. He liked a little extra length in the hem of his pants – couldn’t at all understand how ‘floods’ seemed to be in right now – under which he wore simple dark brown Berluti Oxfords. A matching belt completed the look. His own strawberry blonde hair was cut short and hewas clean-shaven, appearing for all the world like what he considered himself to be – an upstanding middle-aged businessman doing some holiday shopping of his own, unusual as that shopping may be.

For the lure, there was something much more straightforward – two plain, white envelopes, one in each of his inside jacket pockets, and with each containing precisely ten thousand dollars in new, crisp, hundreds dollar bills.

There was no one else in earshot and she had just slammed shut the trunk of her car when he spoke.

“Excuse me.” This part always scared him and he felt his heart accelerate with anticipation. There were so many ways things could go wrong from here.

She started just a little as she turned towards his voice, but broad daylight, the suit and the shoes, and the disarming, clean-shaven smile did exactly what he needed them to. She smiled right back at him, if a little quizically.

“This is going to sound crazy,” he said with a small laugh, “but I am one-hundred percent serious and I’ll get straight to the point.” He stopped smiling. She was suddenly and clearly now on edge, but she hadn’t screamed or jumped in her car – at least not yet.

“I have twenty thousand dollars cash in my pocket.” He reached in and with his right hand pulled the envelope out of his left inside jacket pocket. She wasn’t sure what was happening and had flinched minutely When his hand came up, but now she was looking at the envelope. Excellent. He pulled the money out about halfway, where she could see it. He was still standing right where he had started, but she had instinctively leaned forward just a touch to better see the green bills. So he took one small, slow step closer to her. He fanned the bills towards her with his thumb and index finger.

“You are exhaust and I will give you every penny of this money if you will spend the night with me,” he said.

Now she really didn’t know what was happening. “I – I’m sorry? What?” She was flustered, looking around, and cocked her head to the side. “Is this some kind of joke?” She held the strap of her small white purse hard against her body and fell back a little towards her car.

“I assure you, this is no joke.” He took another small, barely noticeable step in her direction. “I will pay you twenty thousand dollars in exchange for free use of your body, for one night. I’ll give you five thousands dollars right now, five thousand when you arrive at my suite at the Cutlass Hotel, and ten thousand when you leave in the morning. You’ll never see me or hear from me again after that.”

He knew from the look on her face that he hadn’t scared her off; she was still mightily confused, but the money had her interested.

“What…” She paused, trying to process it. “What do you mean, ‘free use?’”

That was it. Asking the question means she would not be running away, would not be screaming for help, would not be pulling any pepper spray out of her pursuit. It wasn’t a done deal in her mind, not yet, but she was willing to hear him out. He had, once again, judged correctly.

“What I mean is,” he explained, “I will fuck you over and over again until eight o’clock tomorrow morning. I will be perfectly clear about what will happen. At times you will be bound. At times there will be a gag in your mouth. At times you will be blindfolded.” She was still with him, nodding along, if barely perceptibly. She still wasn’t sure it was really happening, but she was listening.

He was separating half of the bills from the envelope while he spoke. “I will not hit you or choke you – unless you ask me to. I will not put anything in your anus, again, unless you ask me to. I will use your vagina and your mouth however I wish. I will use your clip and your nipples as I please.” He had learned it was important to be authoritative and direct here, to set expectations so she would clearly understand the transaction. His dick was rock hard now.

“I will cum inside you, but I assure you there is no risk to you from that. At times I will focus on your pleasure, because that will give me pleasure. I don’t want to know your name and I won’t give you mine. I don’t want to know what you do, or where you live, or anything about you. I just want you to do what I tell you to do for thirteen hours.”

The envelope was back in his pocket now, but he held the five thousand in his hand, the bills folded over into an impressive wad of cash. He slowly moved the remaining few steps to stand at arms length from her, and held out the bills. Other shoppers moved through the parking lot, but they appeared to be no more than a couple having a conversation.

“This is the first five thousand dollars. Take it if you agree to what I’m asking.” She hesitated for a second, then another. But then her hand reached towards him and he pressed the cash into it. “It’s two o’clock right now. Go and make any arrangements that you need to so you can be gone all night. Pick a few hundred dollars at random and go deposit them in your bank; they’ll verify it’s not counterfeit. But do not change your clothes; I want you wearing exactly what you have on right now, nothing more, nothing less. Then drive to the Cutlass Hotel downtown at the Riverfront Landing. Pull in and use the valet. Then go into the lobby and sit on the couch nearest the main bank of elevators. I’ll meet you there at exactly seven p.m.”

She looked at the fifty crisp bills in her hand, then back to him. “How do you know I won’t just take this and never show up?” It wasn’t a threat – he could tell she was generally curious why he would just give her that much money.

“Because then you’ll never see the other fifteen thousand. And I think you would very much like to have twenty thousand thousands dollars in cash in your pursuit at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

* * *

At exactly seven o’clock that evening he stepped off the elevator at the Cutlass, wearing the same light blue suit and brown Oxfords. He always used a fancy, expensive hotel because women of little and average means saw it as inherently trustworthy and safe. He surveyed the lobby and there she was, sitting by herself with her pink sweater seriously contrasting against the cream-white couch. She looked nervous, holding her pursuit in her lap, crossing and re-crossing her legs. She was still in the same black legs and the same pink pumps. She hadn’t even taken down her ponytail. She was exactly how and where he had told her to be. Good girl, he thought. First instructions followed to a tee.

He walked over to her and held out a hand to help her up off the couch. “Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” she replied quietly, taking his offer hand as she stood. He felt a jolt of electricity when their skin touched this first time. He let his hand linger and rubbed a small circle around her knuckle with his thumb.

He let go of her hand and with a subtle turn of his arm pointed her to the elevator. They walked together to the doors and he pressed the call button. He studied her in the mirrored door and felt his cock rising. He had dispensed with his own underwear – it would just get in the way later – so he ensured his buttoned jacketed covered the pointed rising of fabric in his pants. Other than a demure hand in the small of her back to guide her, he would not touch her until they reached his suite. But even that slight contact with the fabric of her sweater against his fingers was intotoxicating.

The elevator arrived and they stepped aboard. He held a key card against the sensor, unlocking access to an ultraprivate floor, and he pressed the button for twenty-three. No one else got on. As the car ascended, neither said a word. Standing beside her, he imagined his finger again, sliding between her legs and into her creamy sex, prowling inside her. God, she was sexy. It was all he could do not to push her against the wall right there and take her for the first time of thenight. But the elevators had cameras and, despite the fact that men such as he, staying on the twenty-third floor of hotels such as this, were afforded the benefit of most discretionary doubts, unwanted attention was still unwanted attention. He had the next third hours to experience every inch of her. He could wait five more minutes.

The elevator doors opened. Walking out of the vestibule and into the hall, he led her to one of the only two rooms on the floor. Using the keycard again, he opened it and ushered her into a large entry foyer with a waist-high table just inside the door. On it sat the half-full envelope from earlier. The door closed quietly behind them. He picked up the envelope and handed it to her. “The second five thousand, as promised,” he said, pulling the bills a little way out to show her. She took it and put it in her purse.

They walked into the main living room of the suite. The lights were slightly dimmed, and the expensive couches and chairs, in the same cream color as the lobby, were arranged as a rectangular seating area, with a huge glass coffee table in the middle. A small, slate gray suitcase lay on its side, on the coffee table, still closed.

To the left was a large kitchen, its black marble island counter top flecked with gold, and with high backed stools arranged around it. He looked forwarding to laying her on that counter later tonight and exploring her pussy with his tongue. A fully stocked wet bar was next to the kitchen.

Straight ahead the entire thirty-foot length of wall was covered by curtains. There was a remote control on one of the side tables, which he picked up and on which he pressed a button. A low hum, barely noticeable, hung in the air and the curtains parted to reveal nothing but glass, with a wide sliding door in the middle that led to a large balcony, twenty-three floors above the river and overlooking the downtown skyline on the other side of the water. Barely quarter after seven, it wasnonetheless dark out this time of year, and the drawbridge over the river was lit with red and green neon lights for the season.

The master bedroom was directly across from the kitchen, separated from the main room by wide French doors. They were swung open and in the bedroom was an enormous four poster king-sized bed. She couldn’t see it yet from her vantage, but inside the bedroom was a huge bathroom with a luxurious walk-in shower, jacuzzi tub and more black marble everywhere. He already had wrist and ankle restrains attached to the bedposts. Artwork adorned most walls throughout the suite, with no piece less than four feet tall and all in a modern abstract style of dark reds, blues and purples. The woman’s bright pink sweater was a burst of color in the room, and its starkness excited him.

She was taking in the space, curiously exploring the room. It was clear that a suite at the Cutlass was new territory for her. But this was not his concern. As she reached the entrance to the bedroom, he turned her and pressed her backward against the wall. His eyes and his hands were hungry for her, and now in the privacy of the suite they took her in. He took her by the wrists and brought her arms up, crossing her wrists together above her head with one of his hands and pressing them into the wall. She inhaled sharply at the sudden movement but did not resist, and in a second his mouth was on hers. This was the point where there would be no going back, her last chance to back out of the deal without having given anything of herself. She was caught off guard for a second, but then seemed to release herself to the deal she’d made and kissed him back just as hard. This was going even better than he had hoped. Their tongues circled and darted against each other while his free hand roamed over her sweater, squeezing one breast and then the other. Then he slid his hand underneath her sweater and found the cup of a lace bra over her left breast. He pulled down the soft material and found the hard contour of her nipple waiting for him. It was wonderfully erect. What a very good girl, indeed.

Releasing her wrists, he brought his other hand underneath her sweater too and pulled the other cup of her bra down. He rolled his thumbs over her stiff nipples while he kneaded her tits with his palms. Pushing her sweater up underneath her chin and holding it there with his left hand, he took his mouth off of hers and took her left nipple in his teeth, biting just hard enough to elicit a sharp “oh!” from the woman in pink. He sucked one nipple, then the other, alternatively rolling it between his teeth and licking in circles around it. Like her sweater and her shoes, her areola and nipples were a glorious shade of pink.

His cock was throbbing now, and he stepped back from her, breathing hard. Her Sweater slide back down, perching for a split second on her erect nipples before falling to cover her stomach. He slowly took off his suit jacket and tossed it behind him across the back of one of the couches. He moved against her again, this time taking her by the elbows and spinning her around to face the wall. She stumbled slightly in her heels, but his grip was sure and he pressed her tits and stomach against the wall. “Don’t move,” he grew into her ear as he let go of her arms and gropeed her ass. She had her palms against the wall, just below and beside her tits.