On the fourth day of the seminar, I no longer had any doubts about the lady with the frosted silver hair in the French twist: she was flashing me when I was at the podium. It wasn't accidental, like when a woman struggles with a short skirt; this was intentional and it was meant for me alone, she never did it when anyone else could see.
She was very attractive with high cheekbones, wide set dark eyes, a slight, very sexy overbite and a full lower lip. She was in her mid thirties, with slim, well-shaped legs. She dressed well and looked like a woman accustomed to weekly manicures and pedicures. Her nametag read: "Clarice."
I was one of three speakers lecturing on the scintillating subject of "Recent changes in International Banking Law." On each of the four days she sat on the side of one of the round tables at the front of the room, and slowly and deliberately crossed and uncrossed her legs when I was an the podium, making sure I could look directly up her short skirt. She was obviously not wearing panties.
Over the first couple of days I thought it was accidental and tried not to stare, but by the third day, it was obvious something was going on. She raised her hand when I was speaking, asked a very insightful question and slowly uncrossed and re-crossed her legs again, looking me directly in the eye, making sure I saw what she wanted me to see. I stumbled a little during the answer but covered it up by taking a sip of water.
During a break I joined the other two speakers, Jerry and Susan, behind the podium to discuss how we thought the seminar was going. I asked Jerry if he had noticed anything special about the woman with the frosted hair -- had she shown him a lot of leg for example?
"Anything special? You mean other than the fact that she's drop dead gorgeous and wears skirts shorter than some of my belts? No, I'm afraid not. If she had, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I would be talking to her quietly in the corner and slipping her my room key. If she's a nuisance, let me know and I'll certainly have a private word with her; we can't have attendees distracting the speakers." He leered like Groucho Marx.
Susan, our other speaker said, "Jerry, you are a sexist pig who thinks any beautiful woman is good for only one thing. Jack, I sat at her table for lunch yesterday. Her name is Clarice Phillips and she is one sharp cookie, very impressive, who works for a private Wall Street fund managing large private endowments; probably makes in the high six figures every year. My take was that she could be up here lecturing. And anyway, you guys should wear one of those micro skirts and try to keep your private parts covered; it's just about impossible, that's why I always wear slacks. Jerry, you say one thing about my legs being chubby and I'll clobber you."
He snickered, holding his hands up, "Not I, friend and colleague Susan. Wouldn't be a bit professional," he said in his best W.C. Fields voice. "No sir. Not a bit professional."
Susan shook her head at him in disgust, "To be so smart, you sure are an asshole."
I nodded, a little embarrassed. "It must have been my imagination," I mumbled.
On the fourth and last day Clarice was wearing a pale, salmon-colored Jacket and stylishly short skirt that probably cost a month's worth of my income. At the continental breakfast, before the session started, she was very social, smiling and talking to the other attendees. But when I tried to maneuver close to her during breaks, she disappeared like smoke.
During the afternoon session, she flashed me again, this time a smile flirting at the corners of her mouth. After the session was over, I tried to catch her, but I got trapped by a loud, opinionated West Coast investor named E. Grady something or other. He had been a pain in the ass throughout the conference, arguing about miniscule points with all of the speakers, showing off his vast knowledge to the other attendees. There is one in every seminar and I just let him rant; he did pay a lot of money to attend the seminar even if he was a boor and an idiot. Besides, he'd be the one going to jail if he didn't follow our advice.
When I finally extricated myself from E. Grady, he condescendingly slapped me on the back, gave me his business card and said if I ever needed another speaker for a seminar on the West Coast to give him a call; he had real world experience that could improve the seminar content. By now, the hotel staff, in preparation for the last mixer of the seminar, was clearing the room.
I hurried to my room and flopped on the bed, meaning to just rest my eyes. I awoke with a start and checked the clock. 7:45. The mixer started at 7:00 and this would be my last chance to talk to the woman named Clarice. I jumped in the shower, pulled on some khaki slacks, a knit shirt, loafers, and hurried out of my room with my hair still wet.
A cash bar and buffet were setup in the conference room. I estimated about thirty percent of the people were there; obviously a lot had already caught their flights home. I talked briefly to Jerry and Susan who were schmoozing with the attendees, and then circulated around the room, chatting with various people. There was no sign of Clarice so I had a couple of drinks and decided to go back to my room and pack.
I finally spotted her in the hotel bar that was across the hall from the conference room, and she was sitting at a tiny bar table with E. Grady Loudmouth. Her shoulder length hair was down, giving her face a softer feel. For the first time she was wearing slacks, chocolate with matching, low heels and a tan, patterned blouse. She looked desperate.
As I stepped into the bar she stood up and waved me over. "Hi Jack," she said as if we were old friends rather than the first time she had spoken to me. "Grady has been filling me in on a lot of the real-world stuff we didn't cover in the seminar. Grady, I promised Jack I would have a bite to eat with him, but I've got your business card; it's been a pleasure, and maybe we'll meet again sometime." She picked up her purse, smiled brilliantly, stepped to my side and said, "Where was it you wanted to eat?"
I shook hands with a chagrined Grady, and Clarice and I left the hotel bar, walking across the marble lobby toward the revolving front doors of the hotel.
"Thank god you came along when you did," she said. "Five more minutes and I'd have screamed and torn my hair out."
"Yeah, he cornered me after this afternoon's session," I said.
Outside the hotel, I smiled at her, "You don't mind using people, do you Clarice?"
She smiled back, "You do what you have to do. Where would you like to eat?"
"I don't know," I replied, "This is your town, you tell me what's good."
She suggested a steakhouse a couple of blocks from the hotel. Fortunately, we immediately got a booth along with an obsequious waiter named Jerome, eager to take care of our every need and assure that we had an excellent dining experience. As he walked away, she leaned across the table, shielding her mouth with the menu and said, "You can tell he's new to New York; two weeks tops and he'll be as surly as every other waiter and waitress."
She ordered a cabernet from the drink waiter; I ordered a double Scotch, straight up, figuring I was going to need it.
Up close, Clarice was very beautiful. I liked the tiny wrinkles around her obsidian eyes when she smiled; they gave her character. Her diamond necklace and matching earrings must have cost multiple thousands of dollars; the ring on her ring finger was rubies and diamonds. She was wearing several thousands of dollars between her jewelry and her suit.
I leaned across the table. "What exactly is your game? Why did you pick me?"
She looked surprised. "I was so desperate to get away from that boor I just flagged down the first friendly face that I knew. I saw you wander around the mixer and not eat anything so I figured you would be hungry by now. I certainly am, and you seem like a nice person. If I offended you, I'm very sorry and we can leave right now."
She looked directly across the table at me, putting it all on me.
"No," I replied, "I just want to know what's going on. I'll buy the story about Grady, but I didn't see you in the mixer. How do you know I didn't eat anything?"
"I could see you through the barroom door when you were in the conference room." She sipped her cabernet and I saw a smile crinkling around her eyes. "I was waiting for you to show up when Grady did.
"Why did you flash me?" I asked.
"Excuse me?"
"Don't play dumb," I said evenly, "For four days you sat in the front row crossing and uncrossing your legs so I could look up your skirt."
She opened her mouth to protest but the look on my face persuaded her otherwise.
"Why did you look?" she retorted.
"How could I not look?' I replied, exasperated, "You were right in front of me and you made sure I was looking out at the audience before you caught my eye, and then you flashed me: you didn't do it once, you did it many times. You didn't flash Jerry, so why me?"
"You look interesting," she smiled over her wine.
"What does that mean, 'interesting?'" I asked.
Suddenly, her face became flushed and she tensed, grabbing the table tightly with her hands. "Please give me a minute. Order me a salad." She seemed to go into a trance. I thought I heard a low hum.
The waiter came. I ordered her a Cesar salad and a small rib eye for myself, medium rare; keeping an eye on the strange scene across the table. After the waiter left I asked her if she was okay, her knuckles were white against the tablecloth. She nodded.
"Yes," she said. A moment later, she said in a low voice, "I have a little problem. Please, just give me moment." Her eyes were unfocused as if she were looking in the distance; her mouth was a tight line as she continued to grip the table. I sipped my scotch and looked around, but no one was paying any attention to her. Another minute and she relaxed, exhaled and slumped back in the booth.
"Are you sick," I asked.
"No, I have a vibrator in my vagina that is programmed to turn on randomly," she whispered. "It brings me just to the point of orgasm and then shuts off. It's very intense when it's on. That's one of the main reasons I wanted to get away from Grady. I can't imagine what would have happened if it had gone off while I was sitting with him."
Well, that was more information than I had asked for.
Up close, I noticed now she wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples, camouflaged by the coloring of the fabric, were hard under the gauzy material of her blouse. She was still flushed, but her coloring and breathing were returning to normal.
"Thank you for your patience, that's very intense," she said as she sipped her wine, the flush slowly leaving her face.
I leaned forward, speaking low: "Who put the vibrator in?"
She leaned across the table and I could smell her perfume, something very familiar, but I couldn't recall the name.
"I did," she replied. "When I went back to my room after today's session there was a Fed Ex package waiting for me with the vibrator in it. It had directions on how to use it, what it would do and how long it would last."
I sat back, incredulous. "Who sent the package and why?"
"I don't know the answer to either of those questions; it came from some Internet company."
"If it's uncomfortable, why not take it out."
She shook her head. "It has elastic belts that hold it in and once I clicked the buckle in back, I couldn't get it loose."
"Is this the first time it's gone off?"
"No, the first time I was on the elevator coming down to the bar. It wasn't too bad then, just sort of tingly and not unpleasant, lasted maybe ten seconds. But each time it has gotten stronger and lasted longer. I had no idea it would be so intense. Who ever designed it knew female anatomy and sexuality."
"Do things like this happen to you often?" I asked as our food arrived.
She was silent as we were served. I cut into my steak, verified it was medium-rare, and the waiter finally went away, satisfied we were happy with our food.
"No, well, not too often anyway." She picked at her salad.
I shook my head; "Clarice, this is too weird for me. I'm a married attorney from Dallas and I have no experience with something like this. What is that you want from me?"
"Please stay with me until the battery's run out. The directions said they will last four hours. I've had it in a little over an hour. I feel very vulnerable and I need someone I can trust."
"How do you know you can trust me? I'm some guy you flashed in a seminar; you don't know me from Adam. Why not go back to your room and wait it out," I replied.
"I know you're a smart guy because I heard you lecture, and you must be responsible or these seminars wouldn't be highly recommended in the trade magazines. That seems to indicate you are a smart, dependable guy who would probably know what to do in a crises. I've gotten myself into something here and I feel out of control and that scares me. I need some help. I do intend to go back to my room and ride it out, no pun intended, but I need a favor. Will you come back to my room with me? You can just sit on the couch, but I don't want to be alone just in case something happens."
I snorted, "Something happen? Oh like what? You have an orgasm?"
"Oh, if only I could," she replied eating her salad.
I tried another tactic. "You live in New York, why don't you go home to your apartment? Why did you stay in a hotel anyway?"
"Oh sure, Jack! I'm going to get packed, check out, get a taxi and get home with this thing going off every few minutes," she said sarcastically. "I stayed in the hotel because I didn't want to fight cross-town traffic; I wanted to wake up, go down stairs, have breakfast and go to the seminar like everyone else. I just need someone to sit with me a couple of hours, call 911 if something happens."
"Like if you stroke out or something? Look Clarice, I'm happily married and I don't want to explain to my wife I was in a strange woman's room watching her have orgasms when she had a stroke. As attractive as you are, I'm not looking for any extra marital sex. If I wasn't married, probably, but I'm just not interested under the circumstances," I said with more conviction than I felt.
She leaned across the table. "I didn't ask you to fuck me, you jerk" she hissed, "I just don't want to be alone. I'm sorry I bothered you." She started to get up and I put my hand on her wrist and pulled her back down, just like she knew I would.
The waiter picked that moment to ask if we would like desert, I declined and handed him my credit card.
"Wait," Clarice said, "Do you have crème Brule`?"
"Yes, madam, we do and it's excellent," Jerome replied.
"Please bring me some, and a coffee with Baileys on the side." She smiled brilliantly at the guy and he almost melted.
"Sir?" he looked at me.
"I'll have a coffee with Baileys" I answered reluctantly.
"Very good, I'll return promptly with your dessert and coffee."
"You're trying my patience," I said to her as Jerome strode off, "And he's not getting a tip!"
"Look, Jack Crane, you can just get the hell up and walk out of here anytime you want to," she spat the words at me. "I'll take care of...Oh lord!"
I could hear a distinct humming as Clarice bit her lip, sitting bolt upright as she had before. She inhaled, taking shallow breaths, her knuckles again white on the table edge. This time the vibrator ran for a minute and eight seconds by my watch, considerably longer than before. This was nuts.
She sat back against the booth, evidently exhausted by the ordeal as the waiter brought her crème Brule` and our coffees.
"Why can't you cut the straps? Get that thing off you, or out of you, as the case may be?" I suggested.
"The directions said to let the batteries run down before disconnecting the strap or I could get a bad shock."
"That sounds like bullshit to me."
"Fuck off Jack! That's what the instructions said and I don't intend to get electrocuted."
"You're not going to get electrocuted from DC voltage batteries," I said sarcastically.
"I'm not a damn engineer! I don't know anything about electricity except that I have a very healthy respect for it and I'm not willing to risk barbecuing some very tender parts of my anatomy."
I drank my coffee and looked around the room. Most of the men in the room would have rushed to Clarice's aid if they could overhear us. I made a decision, probably a stupid one, and said, "Okay, finish your coffee and we'll go to your room. But first, before I do, tell me the real reason you flashed me."
She sighed, "Look Jack, I work my ass off on my job, 12, 16 hours a day. It's very high pressure and I'm always looking over my shoulder because you're only as good as your last deal. When I get out of the office, away from all that pressure, I like to relax. You're a good-looking guy and I thought a little harmless flashing would be fun. I didn't realize I was going to upset you so much. I had no idea the vibrator was going to arrive and I would get into this fix; I thought it would harmless fun."
She gathered up her purse and we walked out of the restaurant. I hailed a cab, unwilling to chance the vibrator going off as we walked down a busy New York street.
At the hotel, I steered her into a side entrance to get to the elevators as quickly as possible. It wasn't quick enough; halfway down the service hall, it went off again. Clarice grabbed my arm and sagged against the wall, the buzz loud in the empty hall. A maid walked by and gave us a strange look. "Just a little too much to drink," I said to the maid's retreating back. This time the attack lasted almost two minutes, leaving Clarice shaky and breathless, and me nervous as a snake on train track. I hurried her onto the elevator, she gave me her card key and we got to her room without another incident.
She lay down on the big, double bed and I went for ice and Cokes. When I got back, it had turned on again, less than five minutes since the last session. She was on her back with her legs bent, hands tightly clasped on her crotch. Her hips lifted involuntarily off the bed, a grimace on her face. It ran for the better part of three minutes and then it shut off as abruptly as it started. She collapsed in a heap. "This is torture," she groaned, gasping for breath. "It seems to know just when I am about to orgasm and it shuts off. I don't think I can take much more of this. It's exhausting."
I looked at the clock, one hour and fifteen minutes to go.
"Tell me about your wife," she said.
"Why?"
"I want to know what kind of woman it takes to get a nice guy like you."
"I might be a wife-beater for all you know."
"Are you?"
"No, I'm not."
"See there, now tell me about wifey."
"Don't get sarcastic about my wife," I said, "Linda and I have been married twelve years, since right after college. I had some classes with her crazy-ass sister who got us together on a blind date. We dated for three months and both of us knew we'd found the right one. She worked for five years, in marketing, until she had our first child, Leona, who is now seven years old and in the first grade. Zach is three and our last. We have a great relationship and I don't intend to screw it up with you tonight."
"That sounds so normal, so middle class. I was married once, but he couldn't stand me earning more money than he did, so it didn't last. I date a couple of guys off and on but...oh shit! Here we go again!"
The attacks, as I now thought of them in my mind, were getting closer together and more intense; the batteries couldn't last long at this rate, but she was increasingly affected by them and getting worn out. I was really concerned she might have a stroke or heart attack.
Clarice tore at her blouse, rubbing her breasts. "Unbutton it please!" I unbuttoned her blouse and her hand went to her nipples, squeezing them. Moisture had seeped through the crotch of her slacks and I unbuttoned the single button at the waistband and pulled them down slightly.
She was moaning and gritting her teeth, "Please" she implored, cupping her breast and offering it to me. I lowered my head and took her erect nipple into my mouth, sucking on it, biting it and rolling it around on my tongue, knowing I had slipped effortlessly past the point of no return. She moved my head to her other breast and I did the same with it, feeling my erection growing.
When the vibrator shut off, she tried to kick her pants off but they were too tight. I went to the end of the bed, told her to raise her ass, and pulled them off. The crotch of her low cut, pink panties was soaked. Her pubic area was shaved except for a small vertical strip above her mound that looked like an exclamation point. The vibrator was shaped like a toy bear; the nose of the bear was centered on her clitoris, a dildo protruded out of the bottom of the bear into her vagina, her internal lubrication dripping off it. Sturdy nylon straps went around her thighs and waist, holding it securely in place. It began buzzing again and she thrust her hips upward, "Oh please," she begged, "Let me cum! I think I'm going to die if I don't!"
I rolled her onto her side and tried the metal buckle in back; it gave me a small shock so I pulled out my pocketknife and sawed through the straps, pulling at the dildo. "Oh go slow, please!" she cried, grabbing my hands. I found the batteries in a plastic pouch on the strap and popped them out, stopping the vibration. I slowly eased the dildo out of her, noticing it also had a smaller appendage that had gone into her ass.
"Please fuck me," she reached for me and I stripped out of my clothes, hard as I could get. She was wet and I slipped full length into her as she moaned, raising her legs so I could go deeper. She climaxed quickly and loudly, thrusting back at me, but we kept going until I could hold off no more, pumping into her.
We collapsed on the bed and, after a while, kissed, and started all over again. She was very skilled sexually and we had sex several times during the night until I roused myself in the gray dawn and got dressed.
Clarice, laying in the darkness said, "Your wife is a lucky woman, Jack."
I kissed her. "Goodbye Clarice."
"Goodbye Jack."
I went back to my room, showered, packed and just made it to the airport in time for my flight. Jerry wanted to talk like he always does. but I put him off and slept all the way back to Dallas.
Linda met me at the airport with a big hug and kiss and my heart leaped at the sight of her; she was the absolute light of my life.
"The kids are over at moms, they think you're coming back tomorrow." She smiled, "I thought we needed some time for ourselves."
"Boy, that sounds great, babe." I kissed her passionately, so glad to be home. I picked her up off the ground and swung her around until she pulled away laughing, "Down boy! Heel! Sit! Stay! Let's get home first."
As we approached the car, Linda asked, "Did you see my sister?"
"Oh yeah, I saw Clarice," I laughed, "The games she plays."
"You should have grown up with her as your big sister; she could be a trial. She called me about an hour ago, told me how much she enjoyed everything and to give you a big hug from her."
"I guess you sent her the Fed Ex package," I said.
Linda smiled, "I also sent one to our house. Maybe you better drive."
I heard the buzz and her quick intake of breath as I started the car.