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Dear Reader – Please read the previous chapters of Fictional Fantasies first, to fully appreciate this story. Please do also provide your feedback which will encourage me to continue publishing subsequent chapters!
*****
The following evening, sprawled across the sofa, tucked under a blanket, with her laptop resting on her thighs, Meg signed into the writers’ chat room. Her heart leapt to see a little green light next to NimbleKimble, to show he was online. A private chat window immediately popped up.
[NimbleKimble]: Hey gorgeous girl.
[JMitchell]: Hey sexy boy.
[NimbleKimble]: Ha! You can’t say that. You have no idea what I look like, whereas I, on the other hand, know I speak the truth.
[JMitchell]: You could look like the back of a bus on a bad day for all I care. Every single thing I know about you confirms to me that you’re sexy.
[NimbleKimble]: Such as?
[JMitchell]: Well, you’re a tall, dark stranger. That’s a pretty good start!
[NimbleKimble]: Cliché!
[JMitchell]: Your body is to die for. And your voice…
[NimbleKimble]: Stop, stop!
[JMitchell]: Well, you’re the one that asked! Pity that in the bedroom department you’re a bit…
[NimbleKimble]:???
[JMitchell]: How can I put this nicely?
[NimbleKimble]: I’m on tenterhooks here! Do tell.
[JMitchell]: Ha ha. It’s no good. I can’t wind you up. You’re astonishing. I keep having very intense flashbacks from last night.
[NimbleKimble]: Not too conservative for you?
[JMitchell]: Conservative isn’t the first word that springs to mind, no.
[NimbleKimble]: I aim to please. I only have three rules…
[JMitchell]: Number one…not being seen?
[NimbleKimble]: Ha. I understand why you might think that, but no. That’s not traditionally one of them. I don’t do pain, fear or involve other people. I’m a one-woman guy. Other than that, I’ll do anything you want, to you and with you. So, get your imagination in gear.
[JMitchell]: Wow. I don’t get an offer like that every day…
[NimbleKimble]: I should bloody well hope not! I can still taste you from last night.
[JMitchell]: I can still feel you. I haven’t been able to sit down comfortably all day!
As Meg waited for his next message to appear, her body lurched forward unexpectedly. He had turned on the remote control clitoral vibrations to a low-level rumble. It made concentrating on their conversation suddenly very difficult. For a moment, she closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the sensations.
[NimbleKimble]: That’s the benchmark of a great night.
[NimbleKimble]: Are you still there? Is something distracting you from talking to me?
[JMitchell]: No, nothing’s distracting me at all, thank you.
[NimbleKimble]: Ah good. Because I wanted to ask you if you’re busy this weekend?
Meg closed her eyes momentarily. The pattern of vibrations kept altering making it near on impossible to concentrate. At length, she managed to type back a response.
[JMitchell]: No I’m not busy
[NimbleKimble]: I’ve booked a night in a hotel. Will you join me?
With only half her mind on their conversation, Meg struggled to understand what this would mean. Would she meet him properly at last? Meg watched as the name and address of a very expensive hotel about an hour’s drive away appeared on her screen. And then the vibrations ramped up and she was lost. Grabbing onto the sofa, Meg threw her head back as her body convulsed and she cried out, climaxing hard. The computer slipped off her lap and landed on the rug with a soft thud. Slowly, the vibrations reduced and then ceased. Dazed, Meg grappled herself back into a sitting position and reached for her laptop. Clearly aware of the reaction he was responsible for causing in her body, he was simply waiting for Meg to respond, once she’d recovered.
[JMitchell]: I’ll be there.
[NimbleKimble]: Check in from 4pm.
[JMitchell]: OK.
[NimbleKimble]: You’re still wearing it then? Despite the pickles I can only imagine you’ve got into by wearing it out in public.
[JMitchell]: I’m still wearing it. I want you again now.
[JMitchell]: Desperately.
[NimbleKimble]: I know. And I, you. Get some rest. Goodnight Meg.
— JMitchell has left the conversation —
*******
It was later that week that Meg found herself walking into an enormously grand hotel she had never previously visited, located in the neighbouring county. As she walked through the old-fashioned revolving doors, overnight bag in hand, her eyes darted quickly around the room in the hope of seeing a tall, dark stranger. Other than an elderly couple chatting on sofas near the fireplace, there wasn’t a sign of life. Sighing, Meg made her way up to the reception desk, trying to exude an air of calm, although she was far from convinced she was pulling it off. With no idea of his plan, or whether she would at last set eyes on him, Meg decided that all she could do was introduce herself to the receptionist and konuşanlar izle hope for the best.
‘Hello,’ she said to the lady on reception. ‘My name’s Meg Oakley and…’
‘Ah yes, Ms Oakley. The honeymoon suite is ready for you. It’s a delightful room which I’m sure you’ll be very comfortable in,’ she smiled, unfolding a piece of paper and handing Meg a key to the room.
‘Um, can I confirm the payment situation?’ enquired Meg.
‘Of course,’ replied the receptionist, scrolling down her screen. ‘Paid for in full by cash.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Meg, wryly considering how well he seemed to be covering his tracks. ‘And the room is booked in my name?’
‘Yes,’ replied the receptionist a little confused. ‘Here’s Tim to show you to your room.’
Meg nodded in thanks to the receptionist as she followed the porter into the lift. He pressed the button to the top floor and they smiled awkwardly at each other. As seemed to happen with all men these days, Meg considered and quickly rejected the possibility that Tim the porter could be NimbleKimble. He was far too short and lean, as well as being blond. One of the very few things she did know about him was that NimbleKimble had dark hair. Apparently. Of course, Meg only had his word and he might have lied. How had she ever managed to get herself into such an impossible situation?
Inside the suite, Meg was astounded. She’d never seen a hotel room like it. For a start it was huge, with a massive balcony window that looked down over the hotel’s extensive gardens. Everything within the room was equally super-sized, especially the four-poster bed which was certainly the centrepiece of the room, as well as a Jacuzzi sunken into the floor of the luxurious bathroom. Putting down her bag, Meg’s attention was caught by a note on the coffee table, alongside which lay a blindfold.
Dear Meg. Please can you be wearing this (and ideally not too much else) at 7pm? Thanks gorgeous girl x
Smiling at the endearment, Meg glanced at her watch. She had several hours to herself in this amazing hotel so first things first; that Jacuzzi was getting a run for its money.
***********
Two hours later, Meg was stretched out on the enormous bed wearing a soft white dressing gown supplied by the hotel. The Jacuzzi had been wonderfully relaxing and she’d had no inclination to leave the suite afterwards. Meg was just contemplating whether she ought to sort out something to eat, when there was a loud knock at the door. She gathered the dressing gown around her body in surprise, slid off the bed and made her way to the door. Was this him? Was she at last going to meet the man who until now she had only seen in her imagination? With a frantically beating pulse, Meg slowly twisted the door knob and glanced into the corridor.
‘Room service ma’am,’ said the tall, dark haired man outside her door.
‘Thank you,’ replied a confused Meg, stepping back to allow him access into the room. ‘How much do I owe you?’ His voice wasn’t that of Nimble Kimble, although he’d shown himself quite capable of changing his accent before.
‘It’s all paid for, ma’am,’ he replied. Was his hair much shorter also? But then he could have had a hair cut since their last meeting. Oh, this was impossible!
‘Are you Kimble?’ asked an exasperated Meg. He shook his head and smiled.
‘No, I’m Pete,’ he replied, pointing at his name badge.
‘Thank you, Pete,’ sighed Meg with frustration, as he made his way back out of the room and down the corridor.
The room service Meg consumed was divine. A bottle of champagne on ice, delectable prawns in a rich butter sauce, exquisite hand-cut chips and miniature beef burgers that melted in the mouth, followed by a crème brûlée. Meg had only drunk one glass of champagne but her head was swimming, whether with desire or the effects of the alcohol, she wasn’t sure. As the seconds crept towards seven o’clock, aware of a strong pulse beating through her entire body, she sat back against the squishy sofa, slipped the blindfold over her eyes and waited.
She hadn’t sat there for very long before hearing the click of a key card, followed by the opening, closing and double-locking of the door. Meg could sense him in the room and found herself holding a long breath. Soft footsteps padded towards her and then stopped. He was standing in front of her and she was trying not to grin too widely, such was her delight at being with this man once again.
‘Good evening, Megan,’ spoke a clear, deep voice above her. Meg recognised that she seemed to have developed a Pavlovian-type response to hearing that voice; already blood was pumping to her pussy lips and she could feel her juices flowing.
‘Good evening, Kimble,’ she replied confidently. A pause. She heard him suck breath into his mouth in reaction to her words. Had she gone too far by using that name and said something wrong? ‘Thank you for my dinner. It was delicious,’ she continued, in an attempt to break the silence.
‘You’re kulüp izle very welcome.’ Another silence. And then he seemed to gain control of himself. ‘Are you any good at quizzes?’
‘It depends,’ replied Meg, somewhat wrong-footed. ‘Not too bad usually.’
‘I thought we might start the evening with one? General knowledge. Best of five rounds. We each ask a question. If we both get the right answer, or both get the wrong answer, it’s a tie and we move onto the next round. But if one person gets their question right and the other gets theirs wrong, that’s where the fun begins,’ he smiled.
‘Fun?’ asked Meg. She was struggling to see the fun element thus far.
‘Mmmm, the winner gets to choose what we both do for three minutes. And the loser must obey the winner’s instructions. Every time the loser fails to do as the winner instructs, the loser racks up a submission payment, to be relinquished at a future point in time.’
‘Why three minutes?’ queried Meg.
‘I thought three was your favourite number?’ Jack answered impishly. ‘After all, you did choose it the first time we played a little game.’ Meg gulped at the memory.
‘Well, your quiz sounds…’ Meg couldn’t think of the right words. She could imagine various situations where she was building up literally hundreds of submission payments. ‘Like an excellent icebreaker?’ she suggested. Jack laughed loudly.
‘Doesn’t it?’ he grinned, sitting down beside her, picking up Meg’s hand and gently bowing his head to kiss it. Meg felt her insides clench at the feeling of his moist lips on her skin, knowing full well where those lips were likely to be before the end of the night. ‘So, round one?’
Meg’s brain suddenly became very clear. Impressively, she was even able to block out the teasing sensations Jack was causing, by circling a damp fingertip incredibly gently around the sensitive palm of her hand, which he continued to hold. She had to play this game strategically if she was going to win. And there was no doubt she wanted to win; this man had dominated proceedings quite enough to date and even had the gall to try and turn her on now, in an attempt to prevent her from thinking up a good question. He was obviously intent on playing dirty.
It was clear to Meg that she was in the company of a very educated and highly intelligent man. From the few snippets of conversation they’d shared in the past, if she had to guess, she’d say he was probably good at the sciences, so she needed to avoid questions on those at all costs. Her strategy had to be popular culture questions and possibly literature. She’d try both. There was no doubt she was at an extreme disadvantage and she needed to get into a position where she knew more. His deep, sexy voice broke through her thoughts.
‘Shall I ask first?’ he murmured. ‘Give you a bit more thinking time. My question is what is the chemical symbol for Radon?’ Meg breathed out slowly. So, she was right; the sciences were probably a strong subject for him.
‘RD?’ guessed Meg.
‘Ah, bad luck,’ replied Jack smiling. ‘RN. I feel you should get half a point though.’
‘Thanks, but I don’t need your charity,’ smiled Meg and heard him chuckle.
‘You might be extremely grateful of my charity shortly, young lady,’ he teased. Meg purposefully didn’t respond.
‘My question is…name a top ten hit for One Direction,’ she said.
‘Impressive strategy,’ smiled Jack. ‘Unfortunately for you, my knowledge of teen pop bands is middling to good.’
‘Prove it,’ challenged Meg, hopeful that he was bluffing.
‘What makes you beautiful,’ replied Jack in a satisfied tone. ‘Which I think gives me the first round?’
Damn it, thought Meg. This wasn’t looking like a great start.
‘By the way,’ added Jack in an undertone. ‘What makes you beautiful, other than your exceptional looks, is your innocence, intelligence, daring and kindness, amongst other things.’
‘Oh,’ said a shocked Meg, with no idea how to respond. ‘Thank you. But I don’t consider myself very innocent.’
‘Compared with me,’ murmured Jack, ‘you’re incredibly innocent. So, my love,’ he continued gently. ‘Having won the first round, I get to choose our three-minute activity, which will involve you laying on the bed and I’ll be going down on you.’ Meg let out an involuntary sigh, knowing the undoubted pleasure his skilled tongue and hands would produce. ‘My instruction to you, which you must obey,’ he continued, ‘is that you mustn’t orgasm. Not once.’ A cold flush seemed to pass across Meg’s body and her mouth opened in shock. She knew he was asking the impossible. And she was sure he knew it too.
Assisting her gently across to the bed, Jack lay Meg down, rucked her dressing gown up to her waist, gently opened her knees and hovered over her, breathing gently on her delicate skin. Meg writhed on the bedsheets, waiting for the inevitable ecstasy his touch would inspire.
‘You’ve got three minutes,’ murmured Jack and Meg could hear some tapping taking place on his smartphone. lady voyeur izle ‘Good luck.’ His final words suddenly reminded Meg that she mustn’t orgasm. She must hold herself together and keep control. The seconds ticked by as she lay there, awaiting his eventual touch. She squirmed on the bedcovers in delightful anticipation of what was to follow; he never seemed to tire of teasing her and he was proving himself a master at it. Holding herself together was easier said than done, however, when the first touch she felt was his rigid, slippery tongue being pushed slowly through her velvety folds, breaking through the dam of her juices and slipping firmly inside her.
‘Oh my God,’ she breathed as he moved rhythmically inside her, quickly ramping up the amazing sensations which were swirling around her clenched, unsatisfied body. Lazily, seemingly with all the time in the world, Jack migrated his mouth northwards. Initially, he lapped his tongue slowly but firmly alongside her clit, enjoying the desperate gasps and groans his actions were causing. Ideally, he would have carried on in this vein for much, much longer, building Meg up deliberately slowly into an overwhelmingly powerful orgasm. But Jack was more than aware that he only had three minutes during which time he must uphold his reputation and win the round. So instead, Jack wrapped his lips around Meg’s clit and suckled gently.
‘No!’ cried Meg. She could feel her orgasm stampeding towards her and she tried desperately to fight it away.
‘Yes’ smiled Jack to himself, as he witnessed her internal struggle; one that his tongue would never allow her to win. In one swift movement, Jack grabbed Meg’s hips and rolled both of them over so that he was laying face up on the bed with her astride him. Still sucking firmly on Meg’s clit, he pulled her body down onto his mouth, his facial stubble digging sharply into her soft inner thighs, as he sucked more firmly. Meg’s cries filled the room as she orgasmed hard against his face. She had no idea how long the gentle alarm music had been playing by the time she eventually recovered her senses.
‘It was very well fought, but I’m afraid you owe me another submission,’ whispered Jack against her delicate skin. She suddenly realised her position and, breathing heavily, eased her body away from his face. Meg had no answer to Jack’s comment, as she was helped back to the sofa. ‘How about a sip of champagne before the next round?’ asked Jack, pouring the bubbly into two glasses and placing the stem of one glass into her hand. Meg took a long sip of the cold liquid and it seemed to give her strength.
‘OK. Round two. Shall I ask first this time?’ asked Meg, revelling in her fighting spirit.
‘Of course,’ replied Jack, slightly surprised, removing her glass and placing it back on the table.
‘Name Santa’s nine reindeer.’
‘Rudolph.’ There followed a long pause, during which Meg could hear sounds of frustration. Plenty of sighing and changing of seating position. ‘Comet? Ooh, Donna and Blitzen? Vixen? Ummm, Dasher and Dancer,’ continued Jack. ‘I don’t know any more,’ he admitted at length. ‘Bugger it! Go on then, what did I miss out?’
‘Prancer and Cupid,’ replied Meg grinning.
‘Damn!’ said Jack. ‘Right, my question. In which year was the storming of the Bastille?’
‘Well that was the start of the French Revolution,’ replied Meg. ‘So, I’d have to say 1789.’ There was silence and Meg didn’t need to be told she’d got the answer right and won the round. Meg felt a thrill pass through her body. For the first time since she’d met him, she had it in her power to turn the tables and take control.
‘When I came up with this idea, I really didn’t expect to lose a round,’ said Jack honestly.
‘But surely an even contest makes it more fun, doesn’t it?’ grinned Meg.
‘If you say so,’ sighed Jack in frustration, clearly not used to losing. ‘So, what is your request of me?’
‘I’d like us to sit here on this sofa and I’m going to ask you questions,’ explained Meg. ‘My request of you is that you answer truthfully and succinctly. For each question you refuse to answer, you owe me a submission.’
‘Clever girl,’ breathed Jack, clearly impressed by her cunning.
‘So, start the clock?’ asked Meg. ‘First off, I’m dying to know. How do you know the hits of One Direction?’ smiled Meg.
‘I’ve got a young relative who’s a bit of a fan,’ replied Jack.
‘Have you got your own kids?’ asked Meg.
‘No.’
‘Are you, or have you ever been, married?’
‘No,’ replied Jack, not elaborating further.
‘Do you like pigeons?’ grinned Meg. Despite himself, Jack laughed.
‘Not much.’
‘What colour are your eyes?’ said Meg, on safer ground.
‘Blue.’ Meg’s heart momentarily skipped a beat. Black hair and blue eyes had to be the sexiest combination.
‘Height?’
‘Six three,’ said Jack.
‘Any siblings?’ asked Meg, revelling at the amount of information she was suddenly receiving, after weeks of very little. It felt like the floodgates had been unexpectedly opened, following a long, hard drought.
‘Yeah, one of each.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Within a fifteen mile radius of you.’
‘What’s your profession?’
‘Not willing to answer that,’ replied Jack in a tone that suggested he would not be swayed.