It's 6:55 in the evening and I'm sitting on a marble bench in the atrium of the Chicago Stock exchange. In five minutes you will walk through the sculptured glass double doors that lead into this magnificent lobby. You insisted on meeting me here rather than picking you up at your hotel. You mentioned something about a "grand entrance". I have been here since 6:30 (a lady should never have to wait on her e****t.) I look at myself in one of the many mirrors that line the hall. I cannot see that I am shaking but I feel as though I am absolutely vibrating with anticipation. I straighten my silver tie, and adjust the starched collar that rises from my black suit. First impressions are everything I think to myself. It is just turning seven and I walk to within twenty feet the doors, full of expectation. I hold in my hand, a single red rose, our agreed upon sign so you would be absolutely sure of who I was. The doorman opens one of the glass doors and you walk in. I cannot take my eyes off of you, but I must concentrate on keeping my knees from buckling under. You are absolutely breathtaking. The light of the room reflects a golden aura around your flaxen tresses as they curly frame your face, tickling past your silken shoulders, Your eyes, a beautiful shade of almond, draw me in, ominous yet inviting, dark yet shinning above a coy smile, framed by lips that pale the color of the rose in my hand. Your shoulders support the thin "spaghetti " straps that hold a black silk dress that hugs every curve of your incredible body. The front is cut just low enough to introduce the mesmerized onlooker to the magnificent breasts hidden behind the thin wisps of silk that d**** them, allowing one to know what is there, hidden temptingly just out of view. The back plunges to just above that wonderful valley at the small of your back. The dress is short, and flows with your every movement. I am glad of that, your legs are nothing that deserves to be hidden. Your black open shoes with the three-inch heel showcase a pair of legs that rise to an ass that could not have been molded any more perfect than if the master sculptor Michelangelo had done it himself. As you walk, the bottom of you skirt waifs up under the cup of your perfect behind. My God I think to myself this creature will have nothing to do with the likes of me. But you are a class act, you walk straight toward me never taking you eyes off of mine. No smile on you face, just a straight intense gaze. You are now two feet away and I catch your scent. This, added to your dazzling appearance is almost overwhelming. You walk right up to me. Take my hand, and give me a gentle kiss on the cheek and say with a coy smile "PJ I presume" and then, lightly peck my other cheek. I am immediately at ease. This is one elegant woman, I think to myself. I finally regain enough composure to give you the rose. As you lift it to your nose to smell, you toyfully nip at one of the pedals and wink at me with laughter in your eyes.
You take my arm and we walk through the lobby to the elevators. Our destination is a restaurant called Everest, so aptly named because it is on the fortieth (top) floor of this building. We take the marble-paneled elevator to the 39th floor, then a tiny private elevator to the 40th. The elevator opens to the restaurant, the décor is a very elegant white on white, illuminated almost exclusively by candles, with only a hint of soft indirect accent lighting. We are seated immediately. Our secluded table is positioned next to a window giving us the view of the Chicago evening skyline. The chef of this fine establishment is world renowned Jean Joho, who always makes a point to individually greeting all of his guests. He seems to linger at our table longer, exchanging pleasantries with you. I have to hold back a grin, I know where his eyes are wandering.
The sommelier arrives and I order the wine. The waiter stops to see if we are ready to start. We begin with something light to tempt the pallet. A silver iced-tea spoon, bearing a cauliflower fondant topped with caviar and a sprig of dill. A pheasant-filled beignet kissed with delicate vegetable vinaigrette. A tempura baby smelt with red-pepper sauce. And an inordinately clever miniature hamburger of wild hare, sandwiched between a disk of fried potato and a barely cooked quail egg.
The soup, a roasted chestnut with a distinctly sweet undercurrent nicely bolstered by pieces of duck confit, is to die for. Pheasant breast arrives pink and moist within a wrapping of savory cabbage, Pristine halibut roasted in a potato crust and aggressively seasoned with thyme, is pure pleasure. Filet-tender venison is next, matched with wild huckleberries, with a touch of cheese. To round off the main course beautifully rare slices of wild hare arrive at the table topped with slices of sautéed young g****s, providing a tart highlight to the dish. For desert there is a marvelous pear charlotte in a crust of sourdough brioche with cinnamon, and a passion fruit mousse topped with caramelized bananas. I feel your toe rub up inside my pant leg as you coyly nibble and tongue the end of your banana.
We leave the restaurant and return to the lobby. We decided earlier to forgo the theater so that we could spend more time alone with each other. You left the arrangements up to me. So far I wasn't doing too bad, "for an old fart" you say with a grin. We walk outside and the normally "windy city" is quite calm. It seems there was a thundershower while we were having our dinner, (somehow even sitting next to a window I missed it, you are that hypnotizing tonight) The air is cool and clean to the smell. A pleasant relief from the mid-summer heat of the day. You ask where we are bound and I point to our ride in the park. Your face alights when you see the white carriage and horse waiting to e****t us around Lincoln Park on Chicago's famous Lakeshore Drive. The coachman helps you into the carriage and we nestle together on the soft velvet cushions of our classic transportation. You comment on the feel of the velvet. Something about velvet, silk and no panties. We pass through the heavily treed park, the antique streetlights reflect off the wet street. You reach around to me and kiss me full on the lips. I wrap my arms around you and pull you tighter to me. Our tongues intermingle and seem to dance to some unknown music, but choreographing each movement together as if we have kissed a million times before. I run my hand down the small of your soft smooth back and you lean over to me granting my hand access to the breathtaking roundness of your ass. I begin to slip a finger between those two beautiful mounds when I feel your hand sliding up from my thigh. You reach my manhood and it begins to swell. All the while our tongues continue the dance. Your reach for my zipper and are about to pull it down to release my pent-up "excitement" when a loud cough from the driver snaps us back to reality with a start. We straighten up in our seat just in time to pass another carriage traveling the other way. Full of nuns. We look at each other and laugh. I tell the driver we need to go to Buckingham Fountain. As we approach, the fountain is as colorful as ever and with the reflection of the wet streets it only serves to enhance its intensity. We sit back and let the sound of the waters and the subtle brilliance of the colors along with the warm wet night lull us into a clam state of euphoria. (not to mention getting the bl**d pressure back down to a more manageable level *grin*) "Time to go" I say. I help you out of the carriage and bid the driver farewell. You mention to me the you are wearing three inch heels and that taking a hike in the park would not be the most pleasurable thing you could think of, at the moment. I smile and take your arm in mine and you walk with me around the fountain. Again your face lights up when around the other side of the fountain you see the white stretch limousine waiting for us. The driver sees us walking toward him and he opens the door and helps you in. The long leather seat extends the full length of one side. On the other is a completely stocked wet bar and refrigerator, TV, stereo, microwave and telephone. You immediately reach for the phone, I'm assuming you are about to call your s****r to tell her you were sitting in a limo, but to my amusement you pick it up and unplug the cord. "I'm not sharing you with any one tonight" followed by that same gorgeous grin. We settle back into to the supple custom deerskin leather seats and I call the driver on the intercom to tour the city, starting with a cruise up Michigan Avenue. There is a reason they call it Chicago's "magnificent mile", the most exclusive shops and hotels in the world are along this road, and the night is the perfect time to see it. As we travel past the lit up avenues I push a button on the console and the lights in the cabin turn down to a warm glow, turning our windows into virtual one way mirrors to the outside world. We have a breathtaking view out and no one can see in. Another push of a button and a lid slides back revealing the champagne on ice. I remove two flutes from the holder on the bar and offer you a drink. You accept. It is a light semi-sweet rose champagne that accentuates the red of your lips as your bring the crystal to you mouth. We pass the Art Institute with flags waving. I intercom the driver to tell him turn towards the lake. We are now on Lakeshore Drive, famous in song, and panoramic view of the city. We drive towards the Shed aquarium on a peninsula with a perfect view of the city. You don't believe me that nobody can see in so at stoplights you at first make faces and the people walking by and when they do not notice, you flash a breast at one man who happened to be looking directly at the window. He just looked on past the window. "Well he either can't see in or he's gay" you say with a smirk. I reach over to your face and cradle one of your cheeks in each hand and guide you face to mine. Our tongues seem to know the others moves before they happen, they meet, playfully "fingering" the tip of each others tongues as if they were separate beings all of their own. Our lips have not even touched yet and we are giggling like school k**s over the antics of our tongues. Our lips then meet and this starts a chain reaction of closure. My arm squeezes you to me, your breasts driving into my chest. I turn on the soft leather seat to allow your hips to move to mine, you bring your thigh up between my legs a put just enough pressure to feel the rise of my member just below my pants. I slide the straps from your shoulders and your dress glides off of your breasts like an artist's sheet being pulled from a masterpiece to reveal its astounding beauty for the first time. You are magnificent. Bathed in the incandescent light of the streets. The colors of the neon reflecting off you tan body prompting a surreal image of raw a****l passion. The fact that we are merely a couple of feet away from the unwary public walking outside only adds to the excitement. You reach down and in one deft movement my zipper is down and you have my organ in your hand, applying gentle strokes. You smile that smile, and start to lean over to my lap. I am about to cum just with anticipation, when the drivers voice comes over the intercom, "sir, we are at the aquarium as you requested". The shock of his voice literally throws us both back. We look at we other a laugh again. Nuns, drivers, how much bad timing can one couple survive in a night! I call back up to the driver to park on the point and "take an hour". "I'll be in the aquarium, when you need me just push the pager button" he replies. We hear the front door shut and we are alone. The driver has parked the limo out on a promontory that is directly across a harbor from the main heart of the city. The clouds have broken up and the full summer moon illuminates each wave as it gently caresses the black velvet of the waters edge, and rising above that, the city, in all of is nightly splendor. We settle back into the sensuous leather and listen for a moment to the sound of the waves. It almost faintly sounds like a jazz quartet. It turns out it is, the driver turned on the stereo before he left. (mental note; good tip for the driver) We open another bottle of champagne as you tuck your feet up under you on the seat. I open the frig, and pull out a crystal bowl of perfect strawberries. I reach over and start the microwave and 30 seconds later I have in my hand another crystal bowl of freshly warmed chocolate. There's that smile again. I dip a strawberry into the chocolate and offer it to you. Naturally, you don't just take a bite. The tip of you tongue reaches out to be the first to explore this delicacy. You then wrap your warm alluring lips around the fruit and only when they were completely surrounding the prize, do you ever so gently bite off the end. You throw your head back giggling, a bit of chocolate is nestled in the corner of your mouth. You sip a bit of champagne and a small trickle runs out the same corner past the brown treat and lights on the soft tanned breast below. You pick up your linen napkin but I am already there to help. I bend over and lick the sweet elixir of chocolate and champagne off the captivating mound of sensuous flesh before me. I am at once trapped as if caught is some unseen "f***e field" my nostrils are afire with the sent of you perfume. I should have known that this sensual nirvana would be waiting for me in this cleavage between Edens. I can't stop. I again slide your silk dress away from your incredible breasts, was it me or the feel of the sliding silk that made your nipples rise so erect? No mater, it's the message they silently scream. I obey. I take one into my mouth and with my lips over my teeth gently squeeze and rotate it while licking the tip with my tongue the other will not be ignored, I slide my hand up the soft mound of flesh to its waiting erection. I roll this one also between my thumb and forefinger while I continue tonguing the other. Your chest heaves toward me and you softly cry out with delight. As much as I hate to spend one second away from this sensual garden of delights I must reach down and slip the silk that adorns your body up over your beautiful face past those alluring flaxen locks. You smile at me and lay back on the warm leather. "Sip some champagne?" You ask. With that you tip your crystal flute and allow a stream to flow into your belly button. I am glad to oblige. (anything for a lady). I probe the unseen tender recesses with the lucky tip of my tongue, which generously transmits its findings coursing back throughout my body. I again feel you arch your back with full compliance to my inquisitive tongue. I sit up from between you legs "That only wetted my appetite" I say and take my glass and pour a fine stream of champagne on the fine hair that leads to your delightful chasm of delight. The hairs seem to channel the fluids down the folds of your womanhood, you squirm with pleasure as the effervescent nectar flows past your clit tickling it in places only the small bubbles can reach. "I did say appetite didn't I" I say with "your grin", and I reach for a small strawberry, dip it into the still warm chocolate, and slip it between the now edible folds of heaven. I bury my head between your legs, the smell, taste, and touch of your glorious burrow rich with chocolate, wine and fruit is almost too much to contain. The strawberry is quickly dispatched and my tongue darts feverously over that hard mound of clit standing up for the taking. You thrash back and forth in ecstasy knowing that as good as this feels, it is only going to get better. Just as that thought goes through you mind I thrust two fingers into your wet, warm, lair. You shriek in ecstasy. I work my fingers, one on the top sensitive patch of nerves and the other probing deeper searching out that "G" spot, as I continue to both lick and nibble on you clit. You are now rocking almost to the point of tossing us both off of the seat. Your legs wrapped tightly around my head. I can taste the wonderful juices of your pussy as they flow at an ever-higher rate out of this irresistible slice of paradise. I feel you tighten and again you arch and squeal with pleasure. I continue to thrust my fingers deep into you. Another arch, and one more. You collapse back into the warm folds of leather. Relaxing your grip on my head. I hear a sigh escape you lips….. "uncle". You are looking up at the mirror on the roof with a grin of satisfaction on you flushed face. I rise up, still positioned between you legs, your grin becomes a smile as you see my silhouette reflected in the mirror and anticipate my next move. I pounce over you like a leopard in the wild not ready to quite let his quarry go. My manhood plunges into your soaked sensitive pussy. Another cry of joy. You wrap your legs up over my shoulders to allow me the deepest penetration possible. I comply with your silent wishes thrusting harder as if I was trying to move my whole self inside. As I propel my shaft inside of you I rotate my hips to titillate all walls of your glorious cavern. I can feel the vibrations of your belly and I know that you are about to cum again. Your pussy tightens around my prick as you reach your ecstasy and that is the final sensation for me. I f***e myself as deep as I can one last time and explode with a f***e that sends our intertwined fluids cascading out of your garden of delight. Two more times I thrust, and each time is as explosive as the other. I finally collapse next to you on the seat. You wrap your arms around my neck and gently nibble on my lip. We unwind, dress and page the chauffeur, (did I mention a big tip) He starts our drive back to the hotel. You look over to me (with that grin) and say, "so exactly what is it you guys do for fun around this city any how?"