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Later in bed, we checked her email. Not surprisingly, there was one from Kurt. He included a photo of himself, a confession that he was older, in case that was an issue for Chloe, and an expression of desire to meet her.
‘I very much want to meet you,’ he wrote. ‘That is if you’re still interested?’
I wrote the reply on Chloe’s behalf, while she giggled and then gasped beside me.
‘Of course I’m still interested…
That is if you promise to use that knout.’
Chloe’s View:
Is there anything sweeter than coming home after work, and bumping into your partner in the lobby? I threw my arms around Jack’s neck, leaned up on my tippy toes and kissed him. He had a big smile on his face, which warmed my heart. My husband loved me, and I loved him in return.
He followed me into the mailroom so that we could ride the elevator together. While I grabbed it, he scanned the over-size packages in case there was anything there for us. In fact, a week earlier we’d received a belated wedding gift from my Aunt in Canada, which had been sitting on the counter for days waiting for us to discover it. Not the best system, but then again, that’s the U.S. Postal Service.
Something caught Jack’s eye, and he picked up a package to take a closer look. He told me he was certain it was from a kink store, and by the shape of the box, some sort of whip, probably. We smiled at the knowledge there were likely other lifestylers living in our building.
In the elevator, I flipped through today’s stack: bill, another bill, another bill, junk mail, more junk mail. We were still paying for a lot of the miscellaneous wedding expenses, but it was all good, nothing unexpected.
Finally, up in our condo, I sat on the couch in order to remove my high heels. It always felt so good to remove them after a long day. I heard that familiar tone of voice that gave me the chills, and also made my pussy tingle: Jack’s Dom voice. One word spoken in that tone, and we were immediately in a power exchange. And I fucking loved it. I was now really looking forward to our evening.
He told me to get the post-it notes. The post-it notes? What post-it notes? Oh yeah, the post-it notes from the move. Where the fuck did we put them? I scurried to the bedroom, looked in my top drawer, and then in a flash remembered – the kitchen! I remembered seeing them in the junk drawer. Off to the kitchen I went. As I walked them back to my Master, I wondered if perhaps he was going to write on a bunch of them, and then stick them onto parts of my body. That might be fun!
Instead he asked for my extra email address, the silly one I use when I want to be anonymous on the internet. I sat beside him and watched intently as he wrote on the pad. At first, I thought he was kidding…but I soon realized: oh fuuuucccckk, he’s serious. That package down in the mailroom would soon have a yellow post-it note stuck on the side of it, with my email address.
I was a bit stunned while taking the elevator, as if on autopilot. Don’t think too hard about it, Chloe…or you’ll chicken out. When I got down there, the package hadn’t been picked up yet. With no one in the mail room at that moment, I affixed the post-it note on the side of the package, toward the back where it was less visible. I giggled at myself, feeling like a thief or a CIA agent. Once stuck on, I practically ran back to the elevator, eager to get back upstairs.
I was giddy for the remainder of the evening and checked my email a million times. I was also wet. Embarrassingly wet. Funny how the oddest things turn me on. The uncertainty of this situation was arousing me.
Why not check one last time, I thought, just as we were turning in. It paid off. A response!
The email came from ‘Kurt Wilkins’ and he questioned who the fuck I was. You can’t blame the guy. It was an invasion of his privacy, to leave the note. Not easily deterred, Jack said he’d reply on my behalf come morning.
Jack did all of the replies that day, under the guise of being me. I was glad he did. It took the pressure off. I took a selfie and sent it along, which gained us some credibility and trust. The whole exercise was surreal. I felt even more like a CIA Agent playing some sort of cat and mouse game. Was I the mouse?
Then Kurt emailed a photo in return. It was the whip that was in the package. I shuddered when I saw the photo. Jack noticed, and questioned my reaction. I had to confess the image of the whip excited me.
I stood up, and with his fingers, he brought me off. I can’t believe how pathetic a slut I am. I was pushing my open cleft toward his fingers, wishing and wanting him to fuck my pussy with his digits. The orgasm was intense. Every orgasm with Jack is intense.
Over the next couple of days, we continued the correspondence, leading up to Saturday. When Jack told me to put on loose fitting track pants, I had no idea what he had in mind. Go and sit on a park bench? When he told me to take my cell, I assumed he’d give me further instructions once there.
When I got down to the bench he described, I looked up at our building. I was on display. Oh fuck, I was on display! Anybody in the building who knew where to look could spot me. I looked up. Who was looking down on me? Jack? Kurt?
I looked down at my phone, and with my browser open I could see the initial email transmitted from my hotmail. It told Kurt exactly where I was sitting. He was surely looking down at me. At least I was a good distance away. Maybe, if I was lucky, he couldn’t see me all that clearly.
‘You look amazing through these binoculars,’ he wrote in his next reply. Nooo...
I shouldn’t have been surprised. With a view of the bay, everyone had binoculars. Jack had recently bought a pair himself. It enhanced my uneasy feeling of being under observation. I knew what I had to do. I knew why Jack wanted me to wear loose fitting track pants. I slipped my fingers inside the cotton, glancing around me to ensure no one was too close. I was soaked. Thank God they couldn’t see that! Jack could probably guess it, but Kurt would have no inkling how aroused this whole thing made me. Or maybe he did know?
I began to rub my squishy fingers all around my swollen clit. I kept looking up at the building. If I had been paying attention when I went to affix the post it note, I would have noticed the floor, but at the time I wasn’t thinking about it. Now, looking up at the building, the reflection making it impossible for me to see inside any of the windows, was quite likely a man watching me masturbate. Worse, I liked it.
I came for my audience. I came for Kurt, and I was certain Jack was watching too. Face flushed, I lapped up my mess. If I was going to do this, I might as well do it right. With my job done, I walked back.
Opening our door, Jack stood there with his arms folded. He motioned for me to come to him with his eyes alone. I walked over and he grabbed my ass through my track pants, digging his fingers into my flesh. The next thing I knew, I was laying on our carpet with my track pants removed. My pussy still warm and wet, Jack fucked me right on the living room floor. He pounded my ass into that floor.
It was only later, lying in bed that we
heard from Kurt. Funny, if he wasn’t convinced about meeting me before, he sure seemed convinced now. Jack was manning the keyboard. There was no doubt in my mind, that at some point this mysterious Kurt would have his hands on my body.
Jack made me appear willing and interested in Kurt. I could handle that. Until I realized he was also making me appear interested in the knout!
Chapter 9. Mirror, Mirror
Jack’s View:
Whichever of us woke up first made the coffee. This morning, it was me. Chloe snoozed while I tidied up a few glasses from the night before and brewed a pot. I put the music on, but kept the volume low. After my coffee, I showered and then checked my stock portfolio on the internet. The day before had been another volatile one, with the Dow dropping triple digits.
I peeked into the bedroom, and there was Chloe still snoozing away. I smiled. You know you found the right partner, when you miss the person simply because they are sleeping in.
All of the sudden, I could hear drills and hammers coming from out in the hallway. One of the only condominiums on our floor that was not completed was the one right next door to ours. It was a small one-bedroom. The workers had framed it all in, but had not completed the flooring, drywall or electrical. The noise must have stirred Chloe awake, as right afterward I could hear the water running: she was either in the shower or brushing her teeth.
While Chloe had her coffee and checked her email, I started some laundry. Both of us realized we had the entire afternoon free which was a rare treat. Chloe started to giggle and called me over to look at one of her emails. It was an invitation from a college friend, who we had last seen at Sarah’s housewarming party. The invitation was for one of those sex-toy parties, similar to a Tupperware party, but where sex toys are sold. A link was provided which Chloe clicked on to show me.
A website opened for ‘Timmy & Jimmy’s Sex-Toy Shimmy’. Timmy and Jimmy were identical twins, shown shirtless, of course, with bodies that looked like they worked at Abercrombie & Fitch. As long as the hostess could guarantee a minimum of twenty of her friends, the twins would come over to display and describe the very latest in vibrators, wands, and everything sex-toy related. It was a good hook. The hostess would get 10% of sales and an $80 gift. It was a smart business idea on the part of the brothers. Their looks, charisma and personalities would surely charm and lure the women into spending large.
