This is a story about, Elizabeth, Chairman of the Board and President of a large company. She hasn't had sex in three years and tonight's the night she will break her abstinence with a young male escort.
She is forty-two, fit and attractive in a New York way. Her trainer keeps her body trim and her yoga guru it flexible. She divorced over ten years ago, with no children, and dated casually for years with a bachelorette, city, sex life. Then her father died suddenly and assuming the leadership role of the family business consumed her every waking moment. Pleasures with the opposite sex were out.
She's worried her libido has died because she hasn't felt horny since forever. Now, that the family business is settling down, it's time to test her female equipment. A fellow female exec and university sorority alumnus told her about a super exclusive escort service for women. It's so exclusive that only top female business executives are allowed. They even forbid movie stars due to prying media eyes on the stars every move. The cost of an escort was extravagant but worth it according to her confidant. 'The Best for the Best' is the escort agencies motto.
As part of the service, she got to pick her date from about thirty young men of all types, bearded, clean shaven, dark hair, blonde, Asian, black or Caucasian. Of courses for those clients so inclined, there were lesbian choices from dainty, sweet young girlie, girls to tough looking bull dykes. The photos were both dressed and undressed. The male nude ones were very tastefully full frontal plus a backside standing pose. Brad, the blonde one she chose, has a swimmer's streamlined fit body with a muscular chest, thin waist and a tight, attractive ass. His manhood even limp was above average, not "Mr. Big" size, but one that would surely please his partners.
Brad is a university postgraduate student from New Hampshire with a small city good nature and a pile of student debt he is working off. He was a top student and champion high-school athlete but couldn't make any university team. His extracurricular passion is the debate club. It's sharpened his conversation skills and going on escort dates with top level business women helps too.
As part of the service, Elizabeth was instructed to write a few paragraphs about her perfect romantic partner and evening. She wanted a romantic dinner with intelligent but flirty conversation followed by a slow passionate buildup to raunchy sex. She wrote that the man should be masculine but not brutish. She wanted to be the feminine half of the Yin, Yang.
Reader, I hope you enjoy Elizabeth's evening adventure.
Dammit, why am I so nervous? I'm the client of this elite escort dating site. I'm likely more frazzled than nervous since my gold Rolex says my gorgeous hunk is waiting at the Manhatten bar while my company limo is fighting traffic. My dear father, who passed the family business to me, was a stickler for punctuality. Being late, makes me nervous. But even he would have forgiven me on this occasion when I squeezed an extra three million dollars from the other company. Father always threw in some extra demand once opponents had given in to the main things. Amazing how that worked again.
I had wanted to rest and get ready leisurely for my big, erotic date but the business meeting went on and on. Who would have expected the deal to close today?
So here I am in business attire, a pant suit and comfortable shoes. Dammit, I wanted to wear a sexy dress and heels. Best I can do now is undo a few buttons on my blouse to show some cleavage. Thankfully, I got my hair done yesterday and mani-pedi the day before.
Since I booked Brad last week, his sweet, handsome face keeps popping into my mind and I get a surge of adrenaline every time. The image of his substantial uncut penis bubbled into my primal brain very often too, taking my breath away every time.
Oh fuck, I forgot to shave my pussy. It's quite the overgrown garden down there. Might scare the young man's erection away. Ha. Ha. What the hell? I bet he hasn't seen a real beaver now that bald is the universal in thing. Might get him hard. Fortunately, I always wear sexy, expensive matching bra and panties.
I reach down and grab my crotch with a full hand. I whisper, "Please wake up tonight, pussy. I have a big friend for you to play with."
My driver, Gilmore, on the limo intercom says, "Did you say something ma'am?"
"No, no, I was just talking to myself."
Fuck, Elizabeth, get a hold of yourself. When the limo stops at the next red light, I'll put on some lipstick. Powder I can do while driving. We're are almost there. I need this play date so badly.
Okay, lipstick is on, relax, relax. Close your eyes. Go inward, like your psychologist says. Inward, inward. Breathe slowly.
A voice over the limo intercom, "We're here ma'am."
I open my eyes more serene than before and say, "Thanks Gilmore. I won't be needing you anymore tonight,"
The bar is in the hotel where my company keeps a suite for business. This is the first time I've used it for pleasure. Here goes.
I see him at the bar, tall and perfectly beautiful, no other word for it. For a second, I can't breathe. My legs aren't working. The long week of anticipation freezes my brain. A wave of sensuality pulsates in my chest like the start of a roller-coaster ride. Wow. A silly grin breaks out on my face. He spots me and rushes over with a welcoming smile on his handsome face.
"Elizabeth, it's such a pleasure to meet you."
He bends his over-six-foot height to my much shorter size. We do a New York air kiss. My hand is on the bicep of his sports jacket. It's rock hard inside. My feminine nature spikes higher and I'm sure a look of awe must be on my face. Oh my god, I believe that is the heat of a blush on my cheeks when his full-frontal pose flashed in my brain. Do these beautiful people know how they affect us?
He says, "The Maître 'd has a private booth for us as you requested.
I say, "Nice to meet you too." That's lame but at least my mouth is attached to my brain. My mind is in a tizzy. My god, I'm going to be with this gorgeous young man. He's mine for the evening. A surge of adrenaline hits my torso.
The Maître 'd leads us with Brad behind. God, I hope my bum looks attractive in this pantsuit. I want to be attractive for him. My cocktail dress would have been better.
We are seated. I know the menu by heart and order for both of us. I need a crantini and Brad orders a beer. No sooner is the waiter gone that Brad says, "Elizabeth, you are so beautiful. I'm the luckiest guy in New York."
