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Elizabeth Part 2

Louis Sir and I had been to dinner, shot sporting clays and attended some concerts with friends from our single lives; gradually creating shared experiences and friends. Eventually, a small few also became lovers. Louis was the first, and still best. Louis came into my life on a Friday night. Sir had phoned me at work and asked if I would stay the weekend and share dinner that evening with him and his oldest friend, Louis. This was not an uncomplicated request. First, please understand it was a request. One of this man’s qualities is his unfailing politeness…to everyone. When he wants to give a command, he does so. The most menial worker or self-important executive gets the same courtesy. So, I knew this was a request I could always decline, with nothing at risk. Second, I had regularly stayed over at his home in the past; and had agreed to be nude at all times. He adores my body and I enjoy showing it off. In retrospect, I realize this was part of his training program and Louis was part of the plan. So, this introduced a bit of a conundrum; how to honor my commitment and not die of embarrassment with his friend. Foolish me. Third, I had met his acquaintances, but never anyone he referred to as “Friend”. Especially “Oldest Friend”. A little pressure, maybe? Maybe I should get my hair and nails done…and a wax. My sweet Sir solved the first part of my dilemma by offering to pick me up at my condo. I relaxed, knowing that I could always return home after dinner if I could not find a way out of my predicament. I asked what I should wear. He responded that he had taken the liberty of having something nice delivered that afternoon, but I was under no obligation if it did not suit me. This was interesting. Sir loves my taste in clothes and has never made any suggestion to the contrary. His taste in his own clothes is subtle, perfectly fitted and always appropriate. So, I was sure it would not be a cheerleader costume. We agreed on a pickup at 7:00 PM. I arrived home at 5:00, to find a box at my front door from a very expensive dressmaker. Once inside, I quickly stripped and opened the box. Inside was an amazing garment that was clearly way out of my price range. A calf-length black silk dress with a backless fitted top that covered my entire torso and hid nothing. Perfectly fitted? It would seem to be painted on. It perfectly set off my muscles through its fit and my eyes because of the subtle handwork in blue and purple. Absolutely the most beautiful dress I could imagine. Putting it (briefly) on, I felt gorgeous, strong and desirable. With tears in my eyes, I immediately phoned him with a stammered yes and thank you. He apologized for the any misgivings he had created in me; he had simply wanted to give me something I would not give myself. Oh, sweet Sir. He had already given me 1000+ orgasms. Apparently, a special night deserved a special ride. At exactly 7:00 PM, a black limo smoothly purred up in front of my door. Through my window, I saw Sir immediately get out, open the back door and stand in readiness for my grand entrance. To this day, I will not forget the expression on his face as I appeared in my doorway. He gaped, absolutely gaped with his mouth opening and closing like a guppy while he struggled for words. I had never felt so beautiful and desirable in my life; a feeling he made permanent with his next words, “My beautiful Princess, you have my heart and any other parts of my body you desire.” Oh, sweet Sir. On to dinner… We arrived at a wonderful restaurant in the financial district. One of those places that is so exclusive that you don’t get a reservation unless you can wait a year or own the place. Years later, I found that he did own a share of the place…and had given his equity to the chef. That feeling of magical beauty continued with the many admiring glances that came my way as we walked to our table in the corner. One geezer actually missed his mouth with his fork and stabbed himself in the ear. My breasts moved under the fabric and my nipples became rock hard and swollen...as did my clit. By now, through repetition and training, I had become completely comfortable showing off my body. We were brought to a table in a private area where an extremely good-looking black man was seated with a wine list open in front of him. He immediately rose to his feet (geez this guy is tall) and exclaimed: “My Lady, is this man bothering you? If so, I will have him immediately removed. Nothing should detract from your perfection this evening. I am at your service.” Oh, be still, my pulsing vagina. This man was great looking, as well dressed as Sir, four inches taller, thirty pounds heavier, sculpted like a god and had the most piercing blue eyes I had ever seen. I went along with the joke… “No, I think you two are clearly the most interesting men in the room and I want to get to know you both better. And there is no better way to get to know a man than by experiencing him with his oldest friend.” Oh, I could think of a few ways I would like to experience these two men together. Yum. Details to follow. What I experienced over the next three hours was some of the best food I had ever tasted, non-stop laughter and the kind of completely unguarded conversation that can only happen between two men who have nothing but admiration and love for each. That Sir brought me into this was a gift I treasure to this day. It was his way of letting me know how much I mattered to him and how much I was a part of his life. His whole life: even the parts I was not ready for. I discovered: ? They had met in a college dance class (really). Louis’ football coach and Sir’s boxing coach both had the same solution for their sloppy footwork. What began as a joke became serious when they discovered they liked to dance. ? Louis tutored Sir in physics, Sir tutored Louis in finance. Both aced Art History after seducing the professor. ? They had been roommates after college as they made and lost and made a million dollars in a tech start-up. ? Both had advanced black belts in aikido and had a years-long competition in pistol shooting. ? They had once loved the same woman, who broke both their hearts (the bitch). ? Louis now ran a hedge fund and lived in Europe and the United States. ? Both spoke French, occasionally to each other. Too bad they didn’t know I also speak French. Details to follow. ? Each was the other’s emergency contact on all forms. Good to know. ? Since college, they had never gone more than three weeks without talking. Sometimes for just five minutes. ? You’ve heard the song about sending lawyers, guns and money? Sir had done it for Louis. Twice. ? These two can drink anyone under the table, especially at $150 per bottle. Good thing we had the limo. ? Yes, Louis knew my back story and appreciated it. I blushed from head to toe when he asked if he could attend a performance. Watching Sir, I told him I would be honored; as long as he tipped well. Sir laughed till he cried. It was about 10:30 and dinner was clearly drawing to a close. I had arranged for a friend to text me as a getaway option. No need: there was no way I would let this evening end. But I did quickly read the text as a pretext. “Well, Louis, it seems that you might get your wish sooner than I thought, if Sir agrees.” Sir cocked his head to the side, knowing I was about to throw a curve into the evening. A curve that I hoped would result in a home run. “That was a text from the club where I dance. A dancer just called in sick and can’t make the midnight show. It’s a big deal for the club and frankly, a big deal for the dancer. She’s a friend and I owe her. Would you gentlemen be willing to drop me off at the club and go do men things while I help my friend?” Their eyes met and Sir answered, “No.” My heart skipped, because I hoped this was the successful first part of my idea. He continued, “If you think that Louis and I are going to give up your company so early in the evening, you are wrong.” Fingers crossed under the table… “We’ll go with you. Think of us as…patrons. Louis, you actually have cash for that big tip, right?” Louis nodded. “Do you have a costume or something to wear, Elizabeth?” Sometimes Sir is a bit dense. “Sir, it is a strip club. A very nice one, but still a strip club. I already have on a g-string and if you two kind men would donate your ties…I think I will be just fine.” Within thirty seconds I had two very expensive Hermes ties in hand. We left the restaurant and got back into our waiting car. During the drive I promised that I would protect my incredible dress with my life and that I would be leaving with them, no matter what. They agreed. Game on. We arrived at the club and left the car at the curb. My two knights (as I thought of them this night) made sure I got to the employee entrance, then walked through the patron door just like all the other high rollers. I went to the manager, who is a friend, and asked to take Donna’s place…promising Donna she would get all my tips. Each figured it was a win/win, she got to go home early, and the manager got a fresh dancer. Donna promised to guard my dress. Midnight hit and the lights went down. I was led to the darkened stage by the manager. When the lights came back up, I was lit by a single spotlight that kept the rest of the stage dark and focused all attention on me. Gasps from the audience. I had on my g-string, pearls and heels; blindfolded with one Hermes tie, while the other bound my hands to the pole above my head. I heard Louis say, “Holy shit” and turned in that direction. I was now dancing for an audience of two, and I wanted to please them. Only them. No turns, no working the stage. I like techno music to dance, work out and fuck. On that stage I was doing all three. I writhed and flexed, becoming a captured princess/warrior/whore. I slid into a full split, cunt leaving a wet spot on the floor. I used the stripper pole as a vaulting pole and levered myself full vertical, head down and breasts dripping with sweat. The first bills started hitting the floor around me and I smiled to an audience I could not see. Twisting as I came down to my feet, I was now facing the pole, hands crossed above me, still in bondage to my audience of two. The pole was a cock and I used it as my pleasure toy…for thirty amazing minutes…bills raining around me. My set ended to loud standing applause and more bills in my honor. As the lights clicked off, I heard Sir’s voice cut through the noise:“Now!”. I orgasmed in the dark; tied to the pole, protected and honored by my knights.

Mayhem and Carnage Forty-five minutes later, showered and fresh, I walked back out through the employee entrance. Sir and Louis were waiting for me, as were about ten other patrons, two holding flowers. It’s not unusual for a few patrons to wait, sometimes with flowers. The colloquial term is stage-door johnnies and they are usually well meaning and harmless. Not tonight. Taking the arms of Sir and Louis, after thanking two of my regulars holding flowers, we started walking back to our limo. Behind us we heard a shout and some shuffling. Immediately and without speaking, my knights simultaneously dropped my arms, and each took a step to the side before turning. Huh? Four guys, each dressed in polo shirts with hedge fund logos and khakis, confronted us. “Where the fuck you think you’re going?” one asked. “I musta thrown five hundred bucks at you tonight and you couldn’t even look my way. I want my money back.” Each of my knights took a step back and raised their hands to their waist, hands open. This made the asshole think they were afraid. Big mistake. “Sir, that is no way to talk to a lady” Louis said with a smile. I have seen wolves smile the same way, just before dinner. “I expect you to apologize, now.” “Fuck you, rich suit. We saw your fancy car. Who do you think you are? Where is your security now, pussies?” Famous last words. Without hesitating, Louis and Sir gestured to the other and simultaneously said, “He is.” To understand what happened next, let me explain a little bit. Just a bit…. Remember these two men are skilled in aikido? Aikido is different from other martial arts in that it is entirely defensive; there are no offensive moves. What that means in practice is that the more force is directed at an aikido master, the more force returns to the offending (pun intended) aggressor. The ready stance (you guessed it) is weight on both feet, arms at waist height. And here we had four forceful aggressors. Without taking his eyes off the assholes moving closer, Sir quietly said, “Elizabeth, please move behind us and to the left. I don’t want any blood on that fine dress. Oh, and please start filming with your phone. It will be fun to review.” In aikido there is a saying: In a fight, we have three choices; run, fight or do nothing. Doing nothing is by far the most devastating to the opponent because it provides the maximum energy when the aggressor makes first contact…and that is just what happened here. Assholes 1 and 2 ran straight at my men (when did I start thinking of them that way?). As asshole 1 reached Sir, Sir quietly said “Chicken Dance” at which Louis simply raised his left elbow perpendicular to the ground, allowing Sir to parry asshole 1’s rush so that he collided at sternum level with the point of the elbow. No fight left, he went down in a gasping pile. As asshole #2 ran forward, Louis grabbed his wrist with two fingers and directed it straight up while twisting. This resulted in #2 leaving his feet, moving straight up in the air, then crashing straight down onto #1 from a height of four feet. This had the intended effect of both further demolishing #1 and cushioning #2’s landing. Assholes numbers 3 and 4 hesitated, then got into some half-ass boxing positions. Louis and Sir started laughing until asshole three thought he would use the distraction to launch a front kick to Sir’s crotch. Moving an inch, Sir let the kick move past, then pushed the leg in the direction it was already going. The result was another airborne cowboy. Asshole 4 wisely walked away. And interestingly, none of the bad guys was unnecessarily injured. Second Aikido principle: no more damage than necessary. Louis looked at Sir and said, “We never answered their other question about who we are.” Sir replied, “As always, Mayhem and Carnage. Let’s leave and have some milk and cookies.” We got back into the limo, the men facing forward and I on the seat across from them, facing them. Speaking French, they immediately started discussing the confrontation and it immediately became clear that “milk and cookies” was their term for an immediate after-action review. What my old boyfriend used to call a “hot scrub”. It was clear that they feared for my after-dance safety in the past and future. After a bit, and a chuckle or two, the conversation (supposedly without my understanding) moved into other topics and I heard phrases such as “power exchange”, “submissive protocols”, “the three positions” and “safe word”. I finally lost my patience and said in perfect Parisian French: “I’m tired of hearing the two of you butchering the most beautiful language in the world, and even worse, treating me as if I wasn’t here, in deference to what you believe to be fragility and naivete. Let’s get a few things clear: First, you must think I’m an idiot. Of course, I was safe. Those two stage-door johnnies with the flowers are also off-duty cops with guns. If I had not made it clear you were with me, you would not have gotten two steps. I have represented them both at review boards when they were involved in weapons discharge inquiries. Remember, I am a fucking attorney, not just your toy (let’s plant that seed early). Second, just in case the assholes got too close, I have this:”: Reaching inside my skirt, I pulled out and flipped open the very sharp knife that is always secured in an elastic band high on my thigh when I leave the club. “Yes, gentlemen, this is an Emerson close-quarters fighting knife. 440 stainless, razor sharp with a tanto point. Did I ever mention my high school boyfriend became a navy SEAL? And I know how to use it.”

I took a deep breath and continued… “Now about the other stuff you were discussing supposedly over my head in your bad French. I may not have any formal sub training, but I do know how to read. More important, I am not a damsel in distress, and this is not a fairy tale or erotic novel. I am not Sleeping Beauty who is claimed by the Prince so he can work out his mommy issues; nor am I O, whose skanky boyfriend gives her to his uncle; and I certainly am not that Fifty Shades chick whose boyfriend would be arrested for stalking in the real world. I am a real woman who is not some character in a book. But I have learned a lot from reading them. Mostly a lot about myself, as Sir has discovered and enjoyed. Are we clear?” I said with a stern smile.

“Crystal.” They replied in unison, with mildly abashed faces.

“Now, my wonderful knights armored in great tailoring, let’s go home so I can reward you appropriately. The usual protocol, Sir?” He smiled in that wonderful way that I adore. “Absolutely…and more.”

Oh, be still, my pulsing vagina.

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