Nina's Cover Story, Part One
by Nina Russo (onlyninar@yahoo.com)
My suitcase tips precariously on one wheel as I struggle with my purse, my cellphone and an overstuffed black hobo bag full of high heels that hangs from the Pullman handle of my suitcase.
I silently curse and set the suitcase back on its base, taking a moment to look around the cavernous concrete garage of Reagan National Airport.
I hear a car approaching, its headlights catching me as I try to balance the hobo bag on top of the now stationary suitcase.
The car slows and, as the window slides down, your eyes take me in and you kindly ask if I need a hand.
I demur, but you get out of the car and ask earnestly if I need help getting my luggage to my car.
I grudgingly admit that I don't have a car -- I just arrived from out of town and ventured into the garage to meet a friend.
You look around the garage and ask, and is this friend coming soon?
Well, I don't know. I just got a voicemail explaining that her Mom took ill suddenly and that she won't be able to pick me up as planned. So until I can get a hold of her, I don't see that I have much choice but to return to the terminal and wait until she calls back.
Nonsense, you say. I live only a few minutes away from here with comfortable couches and all the modern amenities. Let me drive you there while you try to get a hold of her. An uncomfortable plastic seat is no place for such a beautiful lady to spend the night.
I blush and say, no really, it's okay.
You walk over, open the passenger side door and tell me that you insist. You couldn't live with yourself if I was stuck for the night in an airport as awful as National.
Offhandedly I counter with, well, I couldn't just drive off with a perfect stranger, now could I?
You put our your hand and introduce yourself. I reach out hesitantly and respond that my name is Nina, Nina Russo.
You gently kiss my hand and add, see Nina Russo, we're not strangers anymore. The kiss is unexpected but takes my breath away.
You beckon towards the door, your chariot awaits, my lady.
I giggle despite my best efforts and add, without thinking, well, I guess I could for a little bit.
At that you help me into the passenger seat, close the door and put my baggage in the trunk.
When you return to the driver's seat and start up the car, you ask me what brings me to the Nation's capital with so many high heels.
I blush again and explain that my friend is an amateur photographer, and that I traveled here with a bunch of sexy shoes and alluring outfits to be silly and pose for some fashion-type photos.
No kidding, I'm a part-time photographer myself! What's her name? Maybe I know her.
Really? Erika Wylde... with a 'y'.
You think for a moment and say, I think I know her. Very sexy photos, right?
That's her, as I blush again.
Little bit of bondage?
I blush even more, look down and say in a very small voice, yes.
She's really good. I can't blame her for wanting to take your picture.
Why is that?
Because you would be a perfect subject for those sexy photos.
I blush furiously, but you pretend not to notice, pulling into your garage. As you park the car, I check my phone and realize just how late it is, prompting you to ask if Erika has called back yet. I shake my head no and get out of the car, giving the garage a once over. You walk around the car and ask if I would like my luggage brought up to the apartment, but I decline, telling you that I'm sure Erika will call me back soon.
As we enter the elevator, it dawns on me that I have absolutely no idea where am and that I am about to enter the apartment of a man who I hardly know!
I glance down and further realize just how inappropriate my outfit is for the situation that I find myself in since I genuinely am a shy girl at heart.
I am wearing 5" black leather boots that come to just below the knee with black nylons and garters, a tight leather pencil skirt, a sexy black turtleneck with a lattice front that shows off more cleavage than I had intended and a tight leather jacket. My long nails are painted a dark red to match my lipstick, complementing my sultry eye makeup and shoulder length brunette hair.
I sniff the air and wonder if the mixture of my Victoria's Secret Sexy perfume with the scent of my the Victoria's Secret Sexy shampoo are putting naughty ideas inside you head. Just before the elevator doors open, I remember that I used, for the first time, a new Victoria's Secret cream doused with a powerful pheromone that allegedly make me irresistible to the opposite sex!
I try to take a few deep breaths to calm down the sudden panic building inside me just as the elevator doors open, but I find myself a little dizzy from hyperventilation.
Are you okay, you ask?
I shake my head to come back to reality and blurt out, sorry, just feeling a little light-headed.
You get a look of concern on your face, taking my head shake as my answer, firmly put your arm around my waist, tenderly grab my hand and escort me to your apartment.
I'm too surprised to say anything, but find that the touch of your hand and the grip on my waist send a shiver through my body.
You walk me to your couch and gently help me take a seat.
Can I get you anything?
I'm fine thanks.
You sure? Wine? Something stronger?
Well, I usually drink vodka on the rocks with a straw.
You laugh. Big drinker, are we?
I smile and blush a little. No! I like to sip through those little straws they have at bars. Otherwise my lipstick gets messed up.
You give me a quizzical look as you prepare the drinks.
Cocktail straws! That's what they are called.
What?
The clinking of ice cubes makes it hard to hear, and I find myself shouting just as silence returns, I LOVE COCK... tail straws.
I look down as you bring the drinks and quickly suck down the vodka in my embarrassment.
Unaware that you brought a chilled bottle of vodka with you, you instantly refill my glass without a word.
I mutter thanks, as I pick up the glass and sip in a more ladylike fashion. As I look up, I notice your gaze on me and I find that I cannot hold it, looking down and smiling bashfully.
After a pause, I say it's getting rather late and it looks like Erika is going to abandon me tonight, I think I need to find a hotel.
Well, you could stay here.
Excuse me? I ask indignantly.
I mean, I have a guest bedroom you could stay in.
Oh, is all I can muster as I find myself ashamed as my implied accusation. I finish my glass to hide my embarrassment and trying to make up for my impolitic reaction, add, well, I guess I could if it's not an imposition.
Not at all! You refill my glass again and, with a smile, add, let me get your bags.
With that you exit the apartment, leaving me to wander through your apartment with a drink in my hand. As I continue to sip away, I am impressed by the amazing view and slowly walk to the spare bedroom and your bedroom. Being the curious (and nosy) sort, I sit down on your four-poster bed, but hear the front door and and I quickly make my way to the hallway before you notice where I've been.
You take the bags into the guest bedroom and ask, in passing, if you might be able to set up a photo shoot with me some day.
I blush yet again and say I don't know, draining my glass to hide my embarrassment.
You smile and say that you would be honored to take my picture, maybe even in some of my sexy outfits that I brought.
Well, I'd have to think about that.
Really? I don't want to put you on the spot.
Really, perhaps as a thank you for all of your kindness tonight. It might even be fun, though I would definitely need a few more drinks in me before I agree to some of the pictures that Erika takes!
We both laugh as we return to the living room and you refill my empty glass.
I arch an eyebrow at you and ask, hoping I'll agree tonight, are you?
With a laugh, you say, absolutely! But I do realize that you barely know me, so I can't blame you for declining.
Well, a few pictures couldn't hurt.
In that case, you stand up and head for the door, I need to retrieve some lighting equipment I lent to a friend. I should be back in an hour.
I didn't mean... but before I can finish, you are out the door again.
I sigh, finish my drink and walk back to the guest room.
I guess I can always leave a note saying that I've gone to bed.
I put my bags on the bed, unzip my leather pencil skirt and step out if it. I then carefully remove my turtleneck sweater to not muss up my makeup, and fold both garments. I open my suitcase and pull out my only bedtime outfit, a rather tight and short black silk nightie. I put my skirt and turtleneck back into the suitcase and shrug into my nightgown. Looking down, I realize just how little it covers, seductively showing off the tops of my stockings and garters.
Well, I do have plenty of time before you return, so I sit down on the bed to unzip my boots, and realize just how wonderful your guest bed feels. I can't wait to get under the covers and get some sleep. I massage my feet for a few seconds and decide to remove my stockings when I hear my cellphone ringing in the other room!
Oh no! I left my purse and my phone in the living room!
I quickly grab the pair of heels on the top of the hobo bag, and slip them on, realizing by the time I get to the door that I am wearing my 6" heels, fetishly high black stiletto pumps that are not exactly appropriate to be strutting around a stranger's apartment in.
Undaunted, I sprint as fast as I can in 6" heels to pick up the phone. Unfortunately, I'm too late and the phone stops ringing. I wait to see if a voicemail will appear, but to no avail.
Great.
I see my empty vodka glass sitting there and pour myself another glass.
This has not been my day.
I then remember that I should leave you a note and grab a stray sheet of paper from the living room and start to write you a note.
With a drunken giggle, I start with, "I adore your wonderful bed. I believe it is calling out to me."
I think for a moment to see if anything else witty will come to me, but to no avail.
Realizing I should address the potential photo shoot, I decide to give myself an out. "Since I may be tied up later, I want to repay your kindness with a sexy photo session. You will be the first to know when I am ready! Love, Nina."
With a sense of relief that I bought myself some time and leeway, I slowly walk back to my room with my purse over my shoulder and a glass and bottle in each hand.
On the way, I pass by your room and decide to look around since I still have a good 45 minutes before you return.
I finish the vodka to bolster my courage, pour myself another glass and walk over to your bed and open the drawer of the nightstand next to the bed. To my surprise, I find a mouth gag with an O-ring!
I pick it up and wonder drunkenly what it would feel like on.
But my better judgment wins out over the alcohol and I put it back. I sit down on the edge of the bed, stare at my glass again, take another sip and think for a moment.
In a burst, I down the glass, take a deep breath and pull out the gag again.
I try it on, tightening the strap in the back. I find it's oddly erotic since I can't close my mouth, and any sound I try to make ends up sounding like a moan!
Unfortunately at that moment, all six glasses of vodka hit me like a ton of bricks, just as I belatedly remember that I never had a chance to eat dinner!
I try to stand, but the alcohol and the 6" heels are not a good combination and stumble back onto the bed. Realizing I need a minute, I scoot up and place my head on one of your pillows. I stretch out my arms as I try to regain my bearings and notice that my right hand has struck something unusual. I roll over and realize it's a wrist restraint!
I pull myself close and examine what seems to be one with a buckle. Fascinated, I put my right wrist through and fumblingly fasten it tight with my left hand. I pull hard with my right arm and the complete lack of give sends a surprisingly erotic chill through my body.
Intrigued and aroused, I roll back over and reach out with my left hand to see what surprise you have in store over there. Since my bound right arm prevents me from seeing the corner of bed, I feel around blindly until I find something. I drunkenly explore with my fingers, and without fully comprehending what I am doing, I slip my wrist through a leather loop. As I pull my wrist back, I realize something is wrong, horribly wrong.
My wrist is stuck!
I pull feverishly, but it only serves to tighten the loop around my wrist more! It must be a self-tightening restraint!!
Oh my god -- what have I done!?!
I look down, and realize to my horror that I am bound and very drunk in a stranger's bedroom, wearing nothing but a skimpy black silk nightie, six-inch black stiletto heels with black nylons and garters!
At that moment, the note I just wrote runs through my head...
"I adore your wonderful bed. I believe it is calling out to me. Since I may be tied up later, I want to repay your kindness with a sexy photo session. You will be the first to know when I am ready! Love, Nina."
OH MY GOD!!
When you return, there will be little doubt but that I eagerly bound myself to your bed as proof that I want you to take erotic bondage pictures of me in return for all your kindness!
To make matters works, if that is possible, I've seemingly chosen to strap an o-ring gag in my mouth!! An oral sex toy that I can't remove because I have bound myself, irrevocably, to your bed!
And since the only sound I can make at the moment is what can only be described as a moan of pleasure, my choices are to moan, an unmistakable invitation to you to take sexual advantage of the situation, or to stay silent, an unspoken acknowledgment that I did this intentionally, again solely for your enjoyment.
My only chance is to try and get out of this predicament on my own, but as I continue to struggle and thrash about, my nightie rides up and one of the pillows creeps under my shoulders. I shift myself up to get closer to the restraints, but the pillow slides under my back, forcing me to arch up and thrust my breasts out.
Oh no! Now there is no way for you to view this an anything but an open invitation to take me!
I continue to wiggle, but come to a complete stop as I hear a sound, a sound that I am dreading.
It's the front door opening...