An Adventure 6

Cassandra had never done this before. She had heard a few friends describe their adventures when they were able to leave their small town and visit a large city. However, Cassandra was always a little reluctant for fear her father or one of her brothers would hear of her activities and decide she really wasn't old enough to live on her own. In less than ten days she was moving from her parental home into her first apartment.

The move to be independent still might not help. She feared the men in her family would increase their level of attention to her activities. The few eligible men in town rarely called back for the second or third date. There weren't that many places to go on a date anyway, one movie theatre, one diner and a family style restaurant.

The small home town did not provide the same anonymity a large city would. As for finding a bar, club, or a lounge—-that really was a joke. About the only places to sit in a bar and have a drink were the country club and a beer joint on the edge of town.

The original idea had been to invite a friend to join her on a weekend trip to a large city for some fun and shopping. However, before she could execute her plan, her father had asked her to deliver some paperwork he needed signed and returned immediately. This trip gave her the best opportunity she might ever have. It was a risk, but a risk she was willing to take, just this one time. She only hoped she had planned well enough that she didn't place herself in any real danger, but she did want an adventure.

The hotel was magnificent, not one she would normally select, but so elegant it made Cassandra feel more than comfortable as she started to unpack her bag. Before calling home to let them know she was safely in her hotel room, she read the instructions on the telephone. Tempted to pump her fist in the air, she muttered a breathless, "Yes-s-s."

The convenience of having a telephone number directly to her room removed another obstacle she had been concerned about.

"Hello, Mother."

"Oh, I'm so glad you called Sandy. Your father just asked me if you had reported in."

Cassandra winced at her step-mother's use of the childish name, but kept her tone of voice from changing. She was trying so hard to stop people from calling her Sandy. She wanted to be known by her proper name, Cassandra. It sounded more professional and mature.

"Yes ma'am. Look at the caller ID and tell me if you see the telephone number to my room."

The woman Cassandra called Mother replied, "It says "Unknown" but there is a number displayed."

"Read it to me so I can make sure it's correct."

Her mother read off the numbers for Cassandra to check against the information on her telephone.

"That's correct.

"Oh, before I forget, tell Daddy that when I delivered the documents I was told I should check back about mid-morning tomorrow to see if they are ready for me to pick up the signed copies."

Cassandra looked at the double-size, folded business card in her hand, the one the receptionist had given her. She opened it looking at the list of names, and almost said something to her step-mother, but withheld her comment for fear it would start a discussion she could not handle.

"You didn't have any trouble on the way up there did you?"

"No, ma'am. I found their office right away. Golly, this is a big city."

Her mother chuckled, "Yes, honey, it sure is. It gives you a good idea why we stay in this small town. What are you doing for supper?"

Cassandra paused for a moment, "Oh, I don't know yet, but I looked out the window and saw the signs of a couple of restaurants and some fast-food places. I'll get something quick and come back to my room. I brought a book with me. I'll probably read until I get sleepy. Driving this far made me feel tired."

"Okay, call me before you leave there tomorrow. Or, call me if you need to stay a second night."

"Yes, ma'am. Bye-bye."

Cassandra truly didn't dislike her step-mother and only remembered about half the time that she wasn't her real mother. The woman was only a few years older than men her father's generation might call a trophy wife. She had taken the place of her father's first wife who had not survived the birth of their sixth child. Nor did the woman provide a substitute for the fifth son her father had also lost.

Cassandra had looked forward to being replaced as the baby of the family. Her father finally admitted that four sons and one daughter was enough assurance there would be a continuation of the family business.

Cassandra took a couple of deep breaths and finished pulling her clothes from her bag. She put the skirt, blouse, and blazer she would wear tomorrow on a hanger in the closet along with the low heel shoes. She left her daytime underwear and casual clothes in the bag.

The next item she pulled from the bag was THE DRESS. It had taken her almost a month to find the dress she wanted. Because she came from a small town, there were only a few stores that sold cocktail dresses. Although most were rather conservative, a few had held possibilities. The one she selected would shock her mother, but it was exactly what Cassandra wanted, revealing in a subtle way, but sexy, too.

She had already put her makeup bag and bath items in the bathroom. The only thing left was the secret bag in the front zipper compartment. She had worried that her mother would find the bag so she'd put it in her suitcase as soon as it arrived. It was a thong. Cassandra had never owned a thong and was almost frightened at how revealing the delicate item of lingerie would be when she put it on. The small bag also contained the thigh high stockings she still couldn't believe would stay up for the few hours she would wear them.

Cassandra removed the clothing she was wearing and hung everything, checked the clock then pulled on her favorite long sleep shirt. Although she wasn't really hungry, she needed to eat something. The few snacks and a bottle of water she'd purchased when she stopped to fill her car were still in her oversized handbag, the same bag she had used to carry her father's paperwork.

With nothing left on her list of pre-preparations, Cassandra crawled to the middle of the bed. As an afterthought, she set the small clock on the bedside table to allow for a three-hour nap. She passed on the temptation to look at the business card again. She had finally gotten over the surprise he lived here. She thought he had moved much farther away after he left his job with her father's company. The city was so large it was virtually impossible she would see him.

* * * *

Even though she was awake before the alarm, Cassandra remained in bed, thinking about what she was going to do that evening. Giggling, she finally walked into the bathroom. She had three hours to make herself into the person she wanted to be for the evening. She had practiced, she had planned, and now it was time to execute the first steps of her adventure.

"Bubble bath," Cassandra muttered, finally accepting the planned Brazilian wax treatment part of her original plan needed to be abandoned. She didn't really want to be hairless "down there" but she did place her rounded point scissors on the edge of the bathtub.

* * * *

Two and one-half hours later, Cassandra stood in front of the wide mirror at the foot of her bed, looking at her reflection and at the bed.

Cassandra steeled her resolve. She was not going to allow a moment of caution cause her to abandon her plans. She went through her mental checklist:

Room – Check. Everything was put away and neat.

Bathroom – Check. All of the items she had used to make herself into a mature Cassandra were gone, too.

Hair – Check. Her normally straight hair showed her efforts with the curling iron to add body and some gentle waves. Plus the combs at the sides revealed the dangling earrings she'd received as her most recent birthday present from her parents. Diamonds on her twenty-first birthday were some kind of family tradition, or so her mother had told her.

Makeup – Check. All of the practice she had done in the last few weeks, and immediately washed off before anyone saw it, was worth the effort. The result made her eyes look larger and a much deeper blue. The subtle shading on her cheeks gave definition to her bone structure and the slightly darker shade under her jaw lengthened her neck.

Perfume – Check and double-check. She inhaled while holding her wrist near her face. Ah, Joy and nothing but Joy. Finding unscented soaps and shampoos was a challenge, but Sandy had been particular since she was sixteen and received a small emerald-cut bottle, one-half ounce, of the expensive perfume from her Grandmother. Few people recognized the scent, but many complimented Sandy on her "new" perfume, allowing her a secret little smile that she was wearing a fragrance almost 100 years old, once touted as "The most costly perfume in the world." She wasn't sure about the twenty-eight dozen roses per ounce, but she had never lost her feeling it was exactly right for her.

Ass – Check. She grinned when she turned around and lifted her dress to look at the faint line of the thong as it went up to join the one around her waist.

Front – Check. She almost groaned when she turned around to check the trimming she had done "down there." The faintly pink, flesh-colored front of the thong was so sheer she could see much more than she expected.

Legs – Check. Sitting on the bed, on the chair, crossing her legs, and leaning against the dresser had revealed only a small amount of the lace at the top of her thigh high stockings. Bending over more than she would expect to do, even squatting to pick up something she had dropped had been no worse.

Shoes – Check. Three-inch black heels, whose straps across her toes and cups cradling her heels allowed her to walk without slapping her foot with each step. She had practiced in the store, at home, and had worn them for hours when there was no one but her at home. She had even walked up and down the stairs and felt comfortable that she was moving with as much grace as possible. That had been one of her two most important criteria when planning the evening.

Evening Bag – Check. Cash and her identification, plus lipstick and a cotton handkerchief was everything she needed. She finally added her room keycard and snapped the closure.

Dress – Check. The second most important criterion was slinky, elegant, and long. The color closely matched the dark blue of her eyes. When she put her head down to see her feet, only her toes showed. When she took a longer than usual step, the side slit parted to show the lower half of her thigh. No panty line showed at her waist, not even from the rear. The top fit her shape but wasn't tight, not even snug. The deep plunging neckline in front was moderately hidden by draped, shawl-like folds, yet a deep cleavage was revealed to anyone standing near her. The same kinds of folds, seen from the rear, flowed halfway down her back. She wiggled her upper body just to see how much her unfettered breast moved and smiled at what she saw.

Cassandra – Check. It was her reminder to herself that for the remainder of the evening, she was an elegant woman, Cassandra. She was not the childish Sandy, nor was she the Little Sister her four older brothers continued to tease.

Perfect.

Let Cassandra's adventure begin.

* * * *

* * * *

When Cassandra stood at the entrance to the hotel's Midnight Lounge she forced herself not to tremble. She had needed the same willpower when she pushed the top-floor elevator button after she left her room. From the elevator she had taken slow, careful steps. Now, standing at the entrance to the lounge, she felt nervous and excited, yet she remained until her eyes adjusted to the subdued lighting inside the club.

On her left was a long, semi-oval bar, showing dark panels of wood and polished brass fittings. The smoky mirror behind the bar reflected the lights shining on the shelves of displayed liquor bottles. A short, stocky bartender in a white waistcoat and neat bow tie was placing a short glass in front of a patron, the ice clinking against the thick glass when his hand moved. There were only a few men sitting on the upholstered, high-backed, bar stools. Each of them was separated by at least one empty stool.

It was a little early, but Cassandra hadn't been able to wait one more minute. She had learned from the bellman that the bar opened shortly after lunch and had a fairly moderate after-work accumulation of patrons. However, late evening hours were better, with a fairly elegant style of dress expected. Another bar in the hotel was available for those who preferred a more casual style.

The right side of the room had several booths with half-circle tables in front of wrap-around bench seating. One of the booths had a couple snuggling close to each other. Between the booths and the bar sat several small tables with deep cushioned club chairs. Three of the tables held people. She didn't give much attention to the far tables in the back since that part of the club wasn't being used this evening. The Midnight Lounge was designed for comfort and intimacy, exactly what Cassandra wanted.

Maintaining her slow, even pace, Cassandra walked to the middle of the bar where there were several empty seats. She selected a stool with at least two empty places on each side, raised her hip and sat on the front of the seat. Placing her feet on the rung, she lifted, shifting back to be more comfortable. She placed her small evening bag on the bar near her left hand.

"Good evening, ma'am. I'm Harvey. And what will you have this evening?"

Cassandra paused for a moment, looked behind the bartender and quietly said, "Grey Goose, please, Harvey."

"Straight, with a twist, or on ice?"

Cassandra looked at the middle-aged man as if she were thinking for a moment then said, "On ice, with a twist of lime if you have it. If not, lemon is fine."

"Grey Goose with a lime twist it is," the bartender educated her how to ask for the drink next time.

Cassandra reached for her bag, but her fingers stilled on the clasp when Harvey patted the back of her hand.

"For a beautiful woman, the first drink is on the house."

Cassandra nodded her head at the man's compliment and smiled slowly, then whispered, "Thank you."

Harvey returned a few moments later to place a coaster in front of Cassandra and a napkin beside it. The ice in the thick glass tinkled as he placed her drink before her, then stood for a moment as if he were waiting for something.

Cassandra lifted the glass and took a tiny sip. She nodded, tasting only the mild sting of the lime in her drink. "Very good, Harvey. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Miss ... ah," Harvey said quietly after dropping his eyes to Cassandra's left hand.

"Cassandra," she breathed her name quietly, but not so quietly that the two men nearest her couldn't hear.

"Are you a guest in our hotel this evening?"

Cassandra nodded once, just barely moving her chin downward, not interested in anyone hearing her response.

Harvey nodded too, accepting her desire for privacy. He tapped his fingers twice on his edge of the bar, sort of a shorthand message that he would check back with her in a little while. Cassandra took another small sip of her drink and looked straight ahead examining the part of the room she could see reflected in the mirror behind the bar.

Now that Cassandra was sitting on a barstool and had a drink in front of her, she began to relax. The stiffness of her posture softened and the fabric of her dress over her shoulders wasn't quite as tight as it had felt before. She did not look down as front of her dress slipped an inch, displaying more cleavage.

For the first time, she noticed the faint sound of music coming from some hidden speakers. Perhaps this particular piece was a little louder than the previous ones, or maybe she had been so tense she hadn't paid attention. She recognized the instrumental and silently thought about the words that matched it.

Cassandra looked in the bar mirror watching the man and woman in the booth directly behind her. They were talking quietly. His body was turned toward hers while his arm rested on the table in front of them. He appeared to whisper something in her ear then gently kissed her cheek. She turned her head as if to respond, and his lips touched hers for a moment. It was a gentle, pleasant demonstration of affection, mesmerizing with its ease.

From behind one end of the wall at the back of the bar, a young lady appeared and began to set up the server station, checking the supplies of coasters, napkins, and drink garnishes she would need. Her costume was similar to Harvey's, except her white waistcoat was sleeveless. She wore no shirt and her pants were short, black shorts. She, too, was wearing a black bowtie.

The waitress's movements seemed to attract the attention of most of the men around the bar. It was a good opportunity for Cassandra to give each of them a careful look. She might not have the opportunity to meet each of them before one decided to get a little friendlier and occupy her attention. She didn't want to make a wrong choice.

The unknown men presented her greatest risk, but they were also the reason for the whole adventure. The few men she knew in her small town were nothing compared to a man who lived in a large city, one who matched himself against others. She was looking for a man of substance, not a lazy, small town hick.

* * * *

Had Cassandra been paying attention to the lounge's entry, she would have seen a tall man, perhaps in his late thirties or early forties, examine the room while his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. His shoulders were slightly broader than most, which emphasized the neat cut of his suit. She might have noticed his dark charcoal, custom made suit; either that or it had been skillfully altered for him.

She missed his glance at her as he noted the color of her dress. He confirmed that it closely matched the dark blue of his own shirt before returning his eyes to her.

He looked around the interior of the lounge, recognizing a few people he had seen before. He knew the names of several of the women, but wasn't interested in their kind of action for the evening.

He could not stand being at home alone for another hour so he had dressed and left, at the last minute deciding to visit the lounge in the hotel. It would be quiet. He could have a few drinks and perhaps spend an hour or two with a woman who didn't mind having a good conversation and nothing more.

The man relaxed one leg as if he would take a step forward then locked his knee again, supporting his weight on both legs.

"No!" he whispered. He didn't realize the faint sound of his word could be heard by someone standing beside him. His other thoughts were silent. 'It can't be her. She doesn't live in this city. But – damn, the resemblance is remarkable.'

It had been six years since he'd last seen the real Sandy. His first impression of the woman at the bar may have been a bit of wishful thinking. A thirty-two year old man did not lust after his employer's teenage daughter. And ... he certainly didn't stick around to see if what he felt was deeper than infatuation.

He almost took a step but decided to watch the woman for a moment longer. He shook his head from side to side, just the barest movement, finally accepting he was mistaken. The woman in front of him was a few years older, more elegant, her movements were more sensual and easier than the young woman, actually a girl, he had known.

Sandy may not have been the primary reason he had moved to a big city, but she was certainly one of them. He had seen her often, too often. He worked closely with her father. He had introduced his sister to Sandy's father. After they married, he had been around when Sandy was six years old. He was there when she turned ten, he recalled her birthday party that year. He watched her budding into a true beauty when she was fifteen. He fled before she turned sixteen.