Manhattan Man Hunt Pt 9 ~ A romance sex story from sex story sites.
"It's easy for you dogs. You can just come right out and say what you want and nobody gives a hoot. Human beings are different though - we're not supposed to sit up and beg because we've got something called pride. The problem is that the more pride we have the more we usually need what we can't ask for. Does that make a lot of sense to you?"
Beech broke wind - a deep rumble that died away into a strange sounding whistle. Anita looked at him with dawning respect and a flapping hand.
"You're right, Beech, you're right. I never understood that philosphical point before - maybe I should have got a dog myself. Or maybe I should drink vodka more often."
Her fingers flicked playfully at one of his outsized auricles. "Whaddya say, boy, shall we both sit up and beg for a bone?"
Beech grunted with seeming approval.
"Well, OK, but I have to tell you that this isn't going to come easy. When I was a student I could get all the guys I wanted just by going to the beach at Coney Island. Now I have to go to the goddamned Orkney islands for sex."
She re-filled her glass and took it into the bathroom. By the time it was dry she was as well, having showered, powdered, and perfumed a body which now contained an unusually high alcohol content in its blood stream. A blood stream which was beginning to pound against her ears like Niagra Falls.
Anita looked dubiously at her naked relection in the full length mirror. "If I'm a lot younger than Goldie Hawn, how come I don't look as good as she does?"
It was no use worrying about that, nor about the extra pounds which had somehow crept through her defenses and hunkered down around her hips. At least she was still a long way from living in a total ruin of a body.
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"So why don't I put on a glamorous dress and let Tristan take me to a restaurant and just see what happens from there?"
'Because . . . because I'm not interested any any of that stale old routine. Because when he walked through my door the first time I took one look at him and wanted him to grab me. Maybe it's because there's something about him that stirs my German genes - maybe a Norseman looking just like him screwed one of my Rhine Maiden ancestors. Toni says that if I'm wearing that chocker he'll just grab me - OK, let's see if he's as good as he looks and to hell with all the usual courtship rituals.'
Answering her own question made Anita shiver. She went into the bedroom and opened the parcel, carefully lifted out the garment inside and slipped it on over her head. Then she returned to the mirror.
It looked good - really good, she thought. The Stage Door web page had described it as a stretch cotton/spandex split side mini-dress. The sort of little black number that any lady lawyer would wear to an fashion conscious orgy - sexy without being vulgar. A haltered top, a low cut bodice, a hemline that stopped three quarters of the way up her thighs and splits on both sides of the skirt which went up to her waist. With nothing worn underneath it she was ready for anything that came her way.
'Hey, lady, are you putting out the welcome mat or what?'
If this didn't bring Tristan into the breech then nothing would - not unless she coated herself in porridge. She giggled and twirled around on her toes.
"Hey, Beech, whaddya think?"
Beech did not strain like a greyhound at the slip. He looked at her, yawned and lowered his head onto his crossed front legs.
"Alright, that's it, buddy. Tomorrow I'm going to bring home the biggest stapler in the office and I'm going to clip those big lugs of yours together over your head. See how you like that."
Anita poured another shot of Smirnoff, a generous one, and then went into her bedroom, opened a drawer and took out the choker. She seemed to have grown an extra set of fingers on each hand because there was no way she could clip it together behind her neck. Her brain was all skewed as well because it seemed to take forever before she realised it was a lot easier to secure the clips in front and then rotate the choker around her throat.
Back to the mirror and looking at her slightly swaying image again. "Please, God, let anything happen as long as he doesn't start laughing."
'Do I put on a robe to open the door in? Or just like this? Kiss him or stand back and smile? Make the first move or let him start, like Toni said?'
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