Stuart stood in the queue in the coffee shop scanning for a glimpse of the redhead. He saw her notice him and then quickly drop her head to put the lid on the coffee cup. Stuart was sure he saw a smirk on her face.
“Your Americano,” she glanced at the cup. “Stuart.”
“Thank you,” he glanced at her chest looking for a name badge.
“Ashley,” she giggled.
“Nice to put a name to the face.” He paused and glanced around but before he could speak, she stopped him.
“I can’t talk now. Why don’t you text me.”
She turned to serve the next customer and Stuart reluctantly headed out.
During the team meeting, he found his thoughts wandering back to last night and Ashley’s voyeuristic performance for him when he’d watched her strip and masturbate in her bedroom with the curtains open. She’d put the hundred pounds he’d given her to good use. The green silk lingerie had looked so good against her pale skin and red hair.
He knew he wanted her again. But he also knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with a repeat performance from across the street. He’d seen her up close in the coffee shop and he knew he wouldn’t be content to watch her through a pair of binoculars again.
Back at his desk, he took his phone out and composed a text. He drafted it a few times, trying not to sound too needy or desperate.
“I’d like a repeat performance but would like it to be up close and personal. Interested?”
For the rest of the day, the phone sat silent. He checked it every so often but there was never a message notification. He even asked his friend to text him as he began to become convinced his phone was broken. Finally, just as he was heading out the revolving door of the office, his phone pinged.
“It’ll cost a lot more than a set of lingerie. You’ll have to book a hotel room too. How up close did you have in mind? Another striptease and watch me play with myself or were you thinking more of a lapdance?”
Stuart felt a blush coming over him as he read and reread the words. He angled the laptop bag to hide his growing erection as he waited in the queue for the bus. All the way home, he played and replayed her text in his mind.
He sat in his study with the lights out, watching her bedroom across the street. He saw the lights flick on and there she was, in her white blouse and black skirt. He licked his lips in anticipation until he saw her cross the room and pull the curtains closed.
His phone pinged.
“No more free previews lol”
“Bitch,” he thought as he stood up and went into the kitchen where his wife was cooking pasta for dinner.
“Listen, love. Gerry is asking if I can go out for a few drinks with him some night next week. Is there any night that doesn’t suit?”
“Ach, no, love. You go ahead. It’s been ages since you had a good night out.”
She kissed him on the cheek before turning back to stir the tomato sauce. He picked up his phone and texted Ashley back.
“What night next week suits you? I’ll book the hotel and text you the room number. 8 pm suit?”
The phone pinged back almost instantaneously.
“Tuesday.”
Stuart didn’t know how he got through the weekend. He kept finding excuses to walk into the rooms on one side of the flat so he could look across the street. The bedroom remained either empty or the curtains were closed the whole time.
On Tuesday morning he had a panic attack about how much cash he should bring. He considered asking her when she served him his morning coffee but he hated the idea of discussing money with her. He felt it cheapened her somehow. He decided to withdraw the £500 daily maximum figuring that would be way more than enough. He could lodge the money he didn’t spend back in his account on Wednesday. While his wife didn’t demand bank balance statements, she did like to know how much money they had in savings and might question why they seemed to be a few hundred pounds short.
He’d made a reservation at the Crown Plaza hotel under a false name, figuring it was suitably anonymous looking and if he did run into someone he knew, he’d just say he was meeting a friend there.
Tuesday evening, after work, he checked into the hotel.
“Here you go, Mr Jones. Room 317. Third floor, lifts are over there.”
He took his key card and picked up his briefcase and headed to the lifts. Once in the room, having texted Ashley the room number, he got the bottle of champagne from his briefcase and searched for glasses. The only ones there were plastic toothbrush glasses so he headed back down to the bar on the ground floor to procure a bucket of ice and two glasses.
In the shower, his thoughts went immediately to Ashley. Reminding himself how she’d stripped for him, exposing her tight teenage body to him before masturbating, knowing he was watching. And now, here he was, waiting for a repeat performance. He thought about the offer in her text. “Do you want a lapdance?”
He’d never had a lapdance. He’d never summoned up the courage to slip into one of the numerous lap dancing bars that dotted the city centre. He was too scared of being seen going into or coming out of one. A few of the guys from work had gone once and had described to him afterwards how they’d paid for women to strip and grind themselves against their cocks. How John had broken the no-touching rule by running his fingers up one girl’s thigh and getting slapped down and threatened with being thrown out if he did it again.
He hoped Ashley wouldn’t have a no-touching rule. The thought of wrapping his hands around her substantial tits made his cock twitch. Deciding not to masturbate then and there but to wait for Ashley, he got out of the shower and towelled off.
He got dressed. Then thought maybe it’d be better if he was in the white towelling robe provided by the hotel. That way, she’d know he was clean. He got undressed again and sat in just the robe while he waited for the clock to crawl slowly towards 8 o’clock.
At one minute past eight, there was a soft knock on the door. He got up and peered through the peephole. There she was, wearing a knee-length black coat and glancing nervously up and down the hallway.
He opened the door and stepped aside to let her enter. She took the three or four steps necessary then turned to him as he closed the door behind her.
“Nice place you’ve got,” she giggled as she looked around the drab anonymous hotel room. She saw the champagne in the ice bucket with the two glasses and smiled.
“I like your style. Do you have any music?”
Stuart blushed. Fuck, he’d forgotten about music. She saw his reaction and laughed.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got something here.”
She reached into her pocket for her phone and selected the Spotify playlist she’s compiled earlier. As the seductive tones of the French band Nouvele Vague filled the room, she unbuttoned her coat and let it fall from her shoulders.
Stuart had been unwrapping the foil of the champagne bottle but paused and gave a low whistle as he stared at her outfit. The black blouse was held closed by the two middle buttons with the bottom tied in a bow showing her stomach. The plunging neckline exposed the generous cleavage her breasts produced and the cream pencil skirt was short enough to display a lot of leg, encased in sheer black stockings.
She smiled at the sound of the champagne cork and waited for him to pour and hand her a glass. When he had filled his own glass, he raised it.
“Here’s to an entertaining evening,” and chinked her glass with his.
“Here’s the deal,” she whispered in his ear as she leant in close. “Every time you slip me a note, more clothes come off.”
He swallowed and nodded.
“And,” she continued, “you keep your hands to yourself.”
He could smell the perfume dabbed behind her ears. The heady sultry undertones caused his cock to twitch.
“Must I?”
He’d wanted it to sound jokey, like he didn’t care one way or the other but it came out sounding more like a needy plea. She giggled.
“Well, maybe that’s up for negotiation.”
She stepped back, took a swig of champagne, and then slowly danced around the room, singing along in her soft Scottish lilt to the French girl singing about teenage kicks.
She danced like no one was watching, as if she’d come into her bedroom after a party and was reminiscing about something.
Then, turning, she danced closer to him. He was perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, the wallet clasped in his hand. She lowered her gaze to the wallet, then looked up, straight into his eyes.
Stuart, flustered, remembered and scrabbled to open the wallet and extract a twenty-pound note.
As Ashley leant down, he folded the note in half and slid it into the left bra strap visible through the gap in her blouse.
She straightened, biting her bottom lip, she swayed slowly as the remaining buttons were undone. Taking Stuart’s hand, she guided him to tug on the bow holding the blouse closed. It opened and the blouse parted, revealing the same green silk bra she’d bought for her last striptease.
Stuart licked his lips, hardly daring to breathe as he watched Ashley sway, teasing him with tantalising glimpses of her breasts as she moved away from him, the blouse slipped off her shoulders and dropped on the floor.
He was faster on the uptake the next time and had another note out of his wallet and folded in two by the time Ashley danced her way back to him. He tucked the note into the same strap as the first. The two purple notes contrasted with the green strap and the pale freckled skin.
She turned and wriggled her ass in front of him. Stuart reached out, wanting to grab her hips and pull her towards him, but instead, managed to restrain himself and instead, gently tugged on the zipper.
The two sides of the cream material parted, revealing the matching green lace and silk knickers as she gave her hips a wriggle and the skirt fell to pool around her ankles. Stuart gazed at her ass as she bent over in front of him to pick up her skirt. The two full globes were so close. He wanted to squeeze them and paw them, feel their firmness. Instead, he slipped another twenty into the back of her knickers.
Once Ashley had picked up, folded and laid her skirt on a chair, she turned and sashayed her way back to Stuart. He didn’t know where to look; Her boobs, her curves, the triangle of green silk covering her mound, those two legs encased in black stockings, the black garter belt. It was like Christmas morning and his birthday rolled into one. His cock throbbed in agreement. Fuck, she looked hot.
