Satin Slippers and Cowboy Boots
D. Musgrave

Two cups of coffee didn't begin to clear the cobwebs from his head. He'd ordered the obligatory bagel, but had only picked at it, tearing off small bite-size pieces, too tired to bother eating. His eyes focused on the cup of steaming black starter fluid. The haggard reflection staring back at him in the surface tension of the liquid looked much older than he thought it should.

Jet lag, the malady of the business traveler, and although the clock on the wall read 7:00 a.m., his body told him it was much earlier. Three connecting flights, two layovers, and a four-hour delay added up to a total of 28 hours since he'd stretched out flat on a mattress. He was in a mood. His patience had worn tissue thin from the airline's lack of customer service. Ironic, due to the fact he'd made the trip to give a presentation on customer service policies at corporate headquarters.

Holding the cup closer to his face, he stared at the wavering likeness. The miles seemed to appear on his face like a map. A shadow blocked his sight and he looked up to see his server holding a pot of coffee. Somehow, she'd mistaken his investigation into the reflection as a signal that he needed a refill. Forcing a smile, he thanked Denise for her attention.

He noticed movement in the corner of his eye as a woman sat down at the next table. Before he could turn to look at her, she barked at Denise. "Can I get some service here?"

Unlike the rest of the patrons, she hadn't waited for a waitress to seat her; she'd gone straight to a table and expected immediate service. Denise responded as if it were normal and promptly filled her coffee cup.

As he turned to see what type of person would demand such special treatment, he saw a raven-haired beauty peeling a cashmere wrap off her thin, muscular frame. The well-developed shape of her arms and shoulders struck him with the thought that she could be a dancer.

His thoughts were quickly confirmed when she draped a pair of well-worn, satin, ballet slippers over the back of the chair between the tables. Her slate gray eyes met his with an intensity he'd seldom seen. Though she tried to look at him disdainfully, he saw the fire of passion she hid. She curled her upper lip into a sneer and rolled her beautiful eyes. She was stunning without a doubt, but the cold, bitter impression killed any romantic thoughts that may have stirred.

Denise returned and served a scone to the ballet dancer. As she bounced away, he summoned her with a slight wave. "Can I ask you a question?"

Her bubble gum popped with each enthusiastic bite, she answered, "Okay."

"What's the deal with her?" he asked, tipping his head in the dancer's direction.

Denise turned her back to the dancer and whispered, "You don't know? That's Anya Powers; she's the Prima-Ballerina from New York Ballet Company."

"Why does she have to act like such a bitch?"

"Oh my God, that's so funny." She unconsciously rested her hand on his shoulder.

He wondered if Denise had any idea how much of a tease she could be. All the prerequisite tools were there, youth, a curvaceous body, long flowing strawberry blond hair, and an outgoing personality. Denise trailed her fingers down his shoulder and said, "Thanks for the smile, I needed that." Then she bounced away, her shapely buns swaying seductively.

He flinched as he heard the loud scraping of a chair sliding across the tile floor. He turned to see Anya slide her chair closer next to his. Her locked on his, holding his attention.

"You like that do you?" She proclaimed matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?"

"That little tart. You'd like to fuck that wouldn't you?"

He was stunned by her remark, but recovered quickly, "What business is it of yours?"

She sipped her coffee slowly, measuring her response. "It most certainly is my business. Denise is my bitch and no damn cowboy is going to contaminate my bitch unless I say so."

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to abate the stirring in his slacks. Swallowing hard, he tried to sound calm. "She's your bitch you say? And what makes you think I'm a cowboy?"

Again, she patiently sipped her coffee. "Let's just say I'm good at reading people. Those boots you've got on aren't common around here. And yes Denise is as much mine, as I'm hers."

Shifting in his chair did little to ease the growing tension between his thighs, he replied, "So my boots gave me away?"

"It wasn't your accent. You've hidden that well, you sound like you're from Anyplace America."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

From across the cafe, Denise noticed the couple and cautiously approached with a pot of coffee. Anya turned to the younger woman and nodded slightly. The unspoken command was received by the young vivacious Denise, who carefully refilled Anya's cup. Denise quietly asked, "Would sir like a scone?"

As he opened my mouth to answer, Anya replied, "Yes he would." Anya turned to him and asked. "What shall we call you?"

"Alex would be fine," he nervously replied.

"I presume you know who I am. If not, call me Anya."

He graciously accepted the scone although he wasn’t hungry. Glancing at his watch, Alex noticed that time had gotten away from him and he had just a few minutes to make it to the corporate headquarters. Reluctantly he said, "I'm afraid I must leave."

"If you must. It's your loss." Anya replied with an air of coolness in her voice.

He took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. "Would it be worth my while to stop by after my meetings today?"

Anya nearly smiled, "If that's a gamble you want to take then by all means, do as you wish."

Frozen with indecision, he looked deep into her slate eyes. He stared at her for several moments before Anya snapped her fingers, bringing him out of his trance. "Didn't you say you had to be going?"

He nodded and reached for his briefcase. "Later it is then." He walked unsteadily out of the café, hoping she wouldn't notice the prominent bulge in his pants. He glanced back for one last look only to see that Anya had already gathered her things and was heading out through the kitchen. 

The meetings were a blur; his attention wasn't on the presentations. Fortunately, he'd rehearsed the speeches and they went off without a hitch. The seminar adjourned early for an evening of carousing planned by his peers. Alex managed to beg off, claiming severe jet lag, which was partially true, and returned to his hotel room.

At approximately 8:00 p.m., Alex returned to the Mudhouse Cafe. The three-hour nap, hot shower, and a change of clothes made him feel somewhat human again. He didn't fully expect to see either Denise or Anya, but was still disappointed when they weren't waiting for him in the café.

A waiter seated him at a table near the back wall and Alex ordered coffee and a turkey sandwich. The sense of absolute hunger was soon sated and he wondered if they would show up. He'd remembered the non-committal way Anya had left their conversation.

His mind wandered to the possibilities of two vastly different women. In all his travels, he'd yet to encounter a threesome. He honestly hoped he could change that, but they had to show up first.

One hour passed, then two. Still no sign of Anya or Denise, and he wondered if he'd been stood up. He felt foolish as each lonely minute passed. Finally, after three hours, he left the café, angry with himself for being so gullible.

As he entered the hotel lobby, he decided a beer was in order to calm his mind. Stepping into the semi-dark hotel lounge, he heard a woman speak his name. He turned to see Anya and Denise in a corner booth. Both were dressed to the nines.

Dumbfounded, he stood staring at them, wondering how they knew where he was staying. Denise slid out of the booth and sauntered over to take his hand. She led him to the booth, her hips swaying exaggeratedly.

Anya looked up from her Chablis, "I guess you're wondering how we found you. It's all quite simple, Denise took your name from the credit card receipt and called hotels until she found yours."

"I'm impressed, but why the effort?" Alex asked cautiously.

Anya glanced at Denise, and as if silently commanded, she made her way to the bar. The moment she was out of earshot, Anya sighed. "It's not easy training someone so young." She took a sip from her Chablis. "Now to answer your question, I must allow Denise her dalliances from time to time, lest she grow bored and venture out on her own, getting into Lord knows what kind of trouble."

"What does this have to do with me?" he asked.

"She made it very clear to me that you got her juices flowing this morning. Denise has a weakness for tall lanky cowboys." She looked down at his crotch and said, "Although you're not my type, I do have to admit that I'm more than a little curious myself."

"I'm flattered, but isn't this risky? How do you know that I'm not some sort of wacko?"

"Remember when I said I can read people? You seem quite harmless, though maybe a bit on the kinky side."

"Kinky, me? Don't tell me that just because I prefer black, snake skin boots makes me a pervert."

Anya smiled the first true smile he'd seen on her face. He thought to himself that it was a shame she didn't smile more. It lit up her face.

Denise returned and handed Alex a tall mug of amber beer. He thanked her and watched as she slid into the booth on his right. On either side of him sat an attractive woman, Denise the picture of blonde exuberance, and Anya the dark exotic beauty of Eastern European ancestry.

Tipping back the mug of brew, he took a long satisfying drink. Alex toyed with the mug unsure of his next move. He could smell soap on Denise's skin as she leaned against his shoulder. He took another pull on his beer, nearly finishing the drink. It was his opportunity, and hoped theirs too. "Shall we retire to my room?" he said surprised with his own brazenness.

"Not yet, we have plenty of time." Anya calmly answered.

Alex sat back, watching them, contemplating his approach. He shouldn't have bothered wasting his time; the game was in their hands. The threesome sat and enjoyed a couple more rounds of drinks and conversation, tinged with sexual innuendo. The moment Alex completed his third brew, Denise got to her feet and offered her hand. He reached out and encircled her small fingers in his large hand. As he stood, Anya gracefully floated up from her side of the booth. The three of them made their way through the lobby arm in arm in arm. All the while, Alex felt the envious stares of all the men they passed.

When the elevator doors closed, Denise fell heavily against him, sliding her arm around my waist and pushing him against the back of the metal box. As her hot breath tickled his neck, she ran her right-handed up and down his back, each time probing lower and lower, into his pants. Shocked by the sudden intensity of her passion, Alex heard his pulse pounding in his ears.

When she pulled his shirt out of his waistband and put her hand next to his skin, Alex forgot his fears and felt his cock swell. At the same moment, Anya leaned into his other side and laced his neck with her hot breath, whispering hotly into his other ear, "Cowboy, why don't you show us big city girls how you can ride?" Her hand danced up his thigh, moving towards the growing bulge in his pants.

He wrapped his arms around them, encircling them, and pulling each closer to his chest. They worked his shirt buttons free and undid his belt. Anya whispered something to Denise that Alex didn't hear and before he knew it, they crouched by his feet, tugging at his pant legs. His inhibitions faded and he looked down at the beautiful women undressing him.

With each tug, they ran their hands over his legs, Denise occasionally brushing his balls with the back of her hand. Anya pushed him into a corner of the elevator and pulled his pants down to his ankles. Alex tried to help them, but Anya stopped him with a head-shake. She cupped his balls through his underwear and licked her lips. Denise grabbed his shaft and raked her tongue across her teeth.

Before they could go any further, the elevator bell rang. Alex barely had time to yank his pants up and pull his sport coat closed to cover his naked chest as the doors slid open. Good thing, as there, waiting for the elevator, was one of his colleagues. Alex made a quick cursory greeting and bade him a good evening. Luckily, Anya and Denise walked down the hall, giving the illusion that the three of them weren't together.

Finally, they reached his room, and Alex fumbled with the room key. No sooner, had the door shut behind him, than the women had his coat and shirt off, Denise pushed him onto the bed.

While Denise worked on his pants, Anya disappeared into the bathroom. In no time, Alex was completely naked, his cock obscenely bobbing as it throbbed against his stomach. Denise stood at the foot of the bed, still dressed. It then occurred to him that he was the only one naked. This should've unnerved him, but it only added to his excitement.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom swung open and Anya emerged dressed in a ballet outfit. Her alabaster skin added to the overall effect of her as a beautiful swan matched the pure white color of the outfit right down to her well-worn ballet slippers. The only part of her costume that seemed incongruent was the open crotch panties.

Upon Anya's entrance, Denise moved to one side of the room and dropped to her knees. Anya took one graceful step and leaped into the air, floating down on top of Alex, who still lay prone on the mattress. She bent forward and put her lips to his, moving her hips and exciting herself with the friction of her crotch against his body. He tried to put his arms around Anya and pull her closer but suddenly, he heard the clicking of handcuffs as his wrists were secured to the headboard. He looked up to see Denise twirling the key ring in her finger and a devilish grin on her face.

Alex helplessly watched Denise strip to matching bra and panties. She calmly walked to the foot of the bed and finished securing him by tying his ankles with silk scarves to the footboard.

He returned his attention to Anya. Through the thin veil of her costume, he could make out the true shape of her breasts; small, with areolas that covered half of their surface. They sat high and the nipples pointed straight towards him. She lowered them within mere inches of his mouth and began to shake them from side to side. Alex raised his head and tried to catch one between my teeth, but she pulled away.

Alex felt Denise grip his cock in her hand. Her hot breath caressed his thigh as she lowered her face to his crotch. She fondled his shaft and raked her thumb across his sensitive glans. His eyes clamped shut and he involuntarily flexed as she dragged her tongue up his length as though it was some treasured delicacy.

Before Denise could capture his cock head in her mouth, Anya slid down flat on top of him, and ground her pelvis against his. He felt the bed shift as Denise moved down between his legs, her hair tickling across his thighs.

"Do it, Denise, do it," Anya murmured, her forehead dropping to his chest. As she said it, Alex realized what was happening. Denise was licking Anya's very wet pussy. Anya squirmed and moaned, clawing at him, and licking his nipples.

Just when Denise knew Anya was ready; she grasped Alex's cock and held it straight up, and with her free hand, pulled Anya onto the raging hardon. She groaned when it sank into her, wadding the sheets in her fists.

Denise removed her remaining clothes, her large breasts and ample bottom gleamed in the half-light of the motel room. She took Anya's place on Alex's chest, half-straddling him and sitting up on her knees. He wanted to wrap his hands around her ripe behind, to run his hand over her soft, fleshy cheeks, open her up to receive him. He strained against the handcuffs to no avail.

Their arms were around each other and they were kissing each other and toying with each other's breasts. At one point, Anya bent her head down and took one of Denise's nipples between her teeth. She gasped and sank onto his face. Alex took aim, drove his tongue into Denise's wet cunt, and drank in her moist sweetness. The dew flowed down his face as he swallowed.

He craned his neck and screwed his tongue against Denise's rosebud. She humped back on his face and groaned. "Fuck me with your tongue." At the same time, Anya bounced on his hips. She growled and threw her arms around Denise and worked out a rhythm between them.

Up and down they went; his cock and tongue charging up to meet them. With each second, Alex rushed nearer to shooting and they answered his urges with their cries of ecstasy. His head whirled and his shaft swelled. He redoubled my efforts and Anya stiffened and moaned, "I'm coming!" which was followed by Denise's cry of, "Yes!"

They were uncontrollable. The moment their orgasms subsided, they freed Alex of his bonds, and he took control, flinging Denise over on her back. Her face etched with ecstatic desire, she pulled at his neck, and whispered. "Fuck me Cowboy."

Alex spread her legs with his knees thighs and bent over her. He dove into her breasts, sucking at her big nipples, biting her tender flesh, and suckling the cleavage. "Oh fuck me. C'mon, fuck me," she cried, but he continued to tease her, excite her, arouse her.

Anya slid down beside Denise and rubbed her ballet slipper-clad foot over Denise's labia, driving her into a fury. "Fuck me, please fuck me," Denise cried. Anya's ballet slipper plunged into her and Denise's body shuddered.

Alex moved back, freeing himself from Anya's hand. Rolling Denise onto her side, he plugged his mouth onto her juicy, come soaked ass. His tongue drove into her dark flower and she reached back, pulling wildly at his hair. Guiding Anya into position between Denise's legs, he eased her ballet slipper back into the clutching folds of Denise's inflamed cunt. Anya's foot slipped in past the arch and Denise whimpered, grinding her hips against the impromptu penis, covering it with her juices.

Alex reached for the inconspicuous jar of Albolene on the night table. He lubricated his hard shaft and moved in behind Denise. He took aim and pushed his fiery member against Denise's rosebud. Slowly increasing the pressure, his swollen head popped in past her outer ring.

"Oh yeah," Denise gasped. "Push it in my ass. Fill me up."

He did as requested and slid his slick cock deep into her rectum. Denise moaned loudly and threw her head back. His back muscles flexed as he pushed again and slipped completely into her gripping anus.

Being the patient lover, he waited for her to adjust to the fullness of his cock in her ass. Denise turned her head to look back at Alex and he could see the hunger in her eyes. She was totally immersed in the heady double penetration. A smile curled the corners of her lips and she hissed, "Fuck my ass, baby."

Needing no further encouragement, Alex pulled out, leaving just the head of his cock nestled in her gripping tunnel. Pausing for effect, he pushed forward. Each thrust became faster and harder, high on themselves, they moaned and bit and clawed at each other, a frenzy of cock, ass, pussy, and ballet slipper.

Denise screamed into the pillow, her ass charging out to meet his cock and Anya's foot, driving both deeper into her with a wet slapping sound. "Fuck me," cried Denise.

Alex looked over to find that Anya had worked four fingers into her pussy and ass, simulating the double penetration. She was staring at the dual penetration and contorting her wrists as she worked herself to oblivion. Their eyes met and she sighed as her body shook in the clutches of orgasm.

Alex ravished Denise's butt, slamming into her, searching out her innermost depths. Her responses became fiercer as she neared climax. All at once, her body jerked convulsively and she tensed. "Oh fuck I'm coming," she exclaimed. He pushed hard into her as his climax washed over him. Alex pumped his seed into her bowels, growls escaping from his throat.

Anya yelled, "Do it, I'm there too, I can feel you coming on my foot."

On and on they went, going up and over the crest. When they finally came down from the plateau, they curled up together and slowly drifted into a deep sleep.

Alex awoke several hours later, alone in the dark. Reaching for the light switch, he felt something on the pillow. As the yellow light bathed the room, he found the ballet slippers were what he'd brushed against. Tucked neatly into one of them was a small note that read.

"Cowboy,

Thanks for the ride. Next time you're in town look us up.

P. S. I now know what all the fuss is about.

A.P."

All rights reserved. Reproduction in any form is prohibited without written approval of the author.

End